Hens Reunited (32 page)

Two other nurses were sat either side of Michelle, each making noises of comfort. ‘Leopards don’t change their spots, Shelley,’ the blonde one with lots of make-up said, rubbing Michelle’s back with long pink nails.

‘You’ve got to walk away this time,’ the other friend advised sagely, ripping open two sachets of demerara and pouring them into Michelle’s mug. ‘Here – have some of that for your shock. And one of my shortbreads too, if you want.’

‘He’s a bastard,’ the blonde nurse said, shaking her head and tutting. ‘A cheating bastard. You’ve got to tell him – enough’s enough.’

Whew. Sounded nasty. Georgia edged away, not needing to hear any more. She was surprised at how hollow she felt, seeing her old enemy so miserable and beaten down. Shouldn’t she be jeering, cheering, sticking the Vs up at Michelle, calling her a loser? She’d often imagined herself hearing of horrible things that had befallen Michelle and being filled with victorious joy. Ha! See how
you
like being a victim, love! Not much fun, is it?

Instead, she felt nothing. No triumph. Not even a twist of curiosity about what this so-called bastard bloke had done to Michelle, or who he was in the first place.

Blimey, you
are
going soft, Georgia Knight
, a voice said in her head. Fancy passing up an opportunity to gloat over the old school bully.

Was that going soft, though, or just growing up?

She sat on the front wall of the hospital to write her note to Owen.

Dear Owen
,

Sorry not to see you here – I popped in to surprise my nan. I was hoping you’d be around so that we could clear the air.

I just wanted to say, I made a mistake that day. I’ve become a bit desensitized, working as a gossip columnist for so long. I’m thinking of packing it all in
—

She stopped writing, not sure how she felt, seeing the words in black and white. Where had they come from?

She ripped the page up and started again.

Dear Owen
,

I’m sorry we fell out. My fault. But I’m not the bitch you think I am, honest. I’ve been seeing things differently lately and know that I was out of order that day.

If you’re ever in London
—

She sighed. What was she thinking? What was the point? He wasn’t going to be in London, was he? So why bother?

She stuffed her notepad in her bag. Suddenly she needed a good cup of tea and a hug from her mum.

Chapter Eighteen

Once You’ve Tasted Love

Friday, 20 June 2008

The phone hadn’t stopped ringing. Alice had felt harassed at first, but now that she’d polished off the last of Dom’s wine, she was starting to be able to tune out the calls as they flooded in.

The
Mirror
, the
Sun
, the
Mail
, the
Express
, the
Telegraph
, the BBC, ITV West . . . they all wanted a piece of her, they all wanted answers. ‘It’ll blow over,’ she assured Iris, who looked startled each time the phone rang. ‘They’ll get bored and leave us alone soon.’

Jen had popped by. ‘Any news?’ she’d asked, and Alice had shaken her head. ‘Not from him, no,’ she’d replied. ‘Jen – I really don’t want anyone else to know about this, so—’

‘Don’t worry, I haven’t said anything,’ Jen replied. ‘I know I might seem like I’ve got a big gob, but I can keep a secret.’ Then she handed over a bag of groceries. ‘Here,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t sure if you’d been up to finishing your shopping. Must have been a right shock.’

Alice peered into the bag. It contained milk, bread, Haribo Starmix, tea bags, three bottles of wine, a slab of Dairy Milk and
Heat
magazine. ‘Th-thank you,’ she said, almost lost for words. ‘Oh – thank you.’

Jen shrugged. ‘A girl needs her essentials when she’s had a trauma,’ she said. ‘I’ve been there myself. Well – you know. Not with the celebrity high-stakes hiding-out thing, but . . .’ She rolled her eyes comically. ‘Anyway, if there’s anything else you want, you just give me a shout. I wrote my number down for you, it’s in the bag somewhere.’

‘Thanks, Jen,’ Alice said faintly, still rather taken aback. ‘That’s really kind of you.’

‘No worries,’ Jen replied. ‘That’s what friends are for, right? Me and Mags will get you through this.’ She patted Alice’s arm. ‘Better get back to my rabble. But remember what I said – call me if you need me, okay?’

‘Thanks, Jen,’ Alice said again. ‘Really – thanks.’ She shut the door feeling touched.
That’s what friends are for
, Jen had said. And all those goodies she’d brought round! How sweet was that? How thoughtful!

A small burst of optimism flared inside her again as she unpacked the bag of treats. She had Iris. She had friends. Whatever happened with Jake, she would be fine, she knew it . . .

The phone went quiet at around six, thankfully. Even journos stopped their pestering for Friday night drinks in the boozer, it seemed. She had stopped picking up the calls long ago anyway, was screening everything on the answerphone. The only time she’d answered had been to assure her mum that yes, she was still alive and fine, and that no, she wasn’t the cause of Jake’s split with Victoria. Not as far as she knew anyway, although she couldn’t help wondering and hoping. She’d found her mobile and had charged it up, trying not to jump every time the text-message alert sounded. But nothing from Jake either.

She’d just got Iris off to sleep and was trying to tear open the packet of Starmix when the ringing started up again. She knew the drill now. Six rings, then the answerphone would start. On came the automated voice
. There’s no one here to take your call, so leave a message after the tone.

BEEP!

‘Hi . . . Alice? Hi. Are you there? It’s me, Jake.’

The bag tore open and she dropped the sweets all over the kitchen floor with a start, then ran through to the living room. She stared at the phone as if it had just landed from Mars, not quite able to believe what she was hearing.

‘I’m just ringing to say—’

She couldn’t hold back. The one and only time he’d phoned in over a year. She couldn’t wait a second longer. He might change his mind and hang up, and then all would be lost again. She snatched up the receiver. ‘Hello? I’m here,’ she said, trying not to pant. Calm down, she instructed herself, but her head had turned to jelly.

‘Hi,’ he said, sounding slightly thrown at the interruption. ‘Um . . . hi. Georgia’s paid me a visit,’ he went on baldly. ‘Gave me a bit of a bollocking, actually. Told me I should call you.’

Alice was silent for a moment, digesting this. Georgia was involved? Then surely there would be a catch. ‘What – and that’s why you’re ringing? Because she told you to?’ she asked, unable to help a scornful note creeping in. ‘What
is
this, are you two cooking up some story for her paper together now?’

‘No! God, no,’ he said. To be fair, he sounded horrified. ‘Sorry. Don’t know why I mentioned her. Just . . . nervous.’

Nervous? Ha. That would be a first then. And was he drunk? He sounded all over the place. She bit her lip. This wasn’t quite the perfect make-up call she’d been hoping for.

‘I don’t know what to say,’ she said after a moment’s silence. She held herself very still, almost not able to breathe, trying to work out how she felt. Disappointed, partly. She had longed for him to make contact for so long, but now that he had, it was like talking to a stranger.

‘Yeah, it’s a bit weird, isn’t it?’ he said, and an ache started up inside her. She could picture him standing up with a phone to his ear – a flash new one, probably. His eyes would be soulful and melty, she guessed. His voice was as deep and rich as ever.

God, she had missed him.

‘Yeah,’ she said, a lump in her throat. She felt confused, torn in two. Part of her seemed to be dissolving to goo, a great thick slurry of emotion. Any second now she’d start begging him to come back. The other part still had a shred of dignity and managed to hold off. ‘So . . .’ she said, then stopped.
So what happens now?
she wanted to ask, but left it unsaid. It was not up to her to do all the legwork this time.

‘So . . . can we meet?’ he asked. ‘Can I meet her?’

Wham. There. The words she’d longed to hear. And yet . . .

‘Who, your daughter?’ She couldn’t help the jibe. ‘She does have a name you know.’

‘I know. And she looks beautiful from the photos you sent. Gorgeous.’ He sounded animated for the first time. ‘She’s got your eyes and chin, and oh,
definitely
your dad’s nose.’

Alice fell into a grudging silence. It was true, all of it. So he
had
looked at the photos. He must have studied them, even, to pick out all of the resemblances. She tried to play it cool but her heart was pounding. ‘Yes,’ she said lightly. ‘Unlucky for her.’

He laughed, and she felt weak at the sound. ‘So, where can I find you?’ he asked. ‘Georgia said you were hiding out in the West Country. Is it . . . is it all right if I come and hide out with you?’

They’d chatted for a while longer, and the whole time Alice felt as if she were filling up with air, floating almost. Jake . . . coming to see her! Coming to meet Iris! Oh, he would just fall in love with his little girl, she knew it. And hopefully . . . oh, she almost didn’t dare hope! – but maybe, just maybe, he’d fall in love with her, Alice, again, as well. And then they’d all live happily ever after. The End.

She got the shivers just imagining. She actually felt sick with nerves. And then she looked at herself and the cottage and decided that if there was a chance for Happy-Ever-After, she had to pull out all the stops to get it. She had to give herself
and
her home a makeover to woo Jake into coming back to her. She had to give it everything she’d got.

No problem. She could do glam. She could do minxy. Hadn’t done it since Iris had been born, admittedly, but she could pull something off. She’d lost loads of weight since he’d last seen her – hadn’t Katie said how slim she was looking? – and she could slip into something tight that skimmed her flat belly. And she definitely had some sexy undies
somewhere
in one of her boxes – unless the moths had got to them first, of course.

Oh yes. Who needed Gok Wan anyway? Alice Johnson was going to make a big, big impression on Jake. He wouldn’t know what had hit him.

Seconds later, she’d launched Operation Foxy. She tied her hair off her face in an old paisley scarf and began on her eyebrows. Goodness, she’d neglected them! They were so bushy, straggling over her eyes like unkempt caterpillars. She bet Victoria had hers threaded, or waxed at one of the top salons. She couldn’t quite picture the leggy actress hunched over her own magnifying mirror, yelping and cringing like she was as she got to work with the tweezers.

But hey ho. Needs must. Next – a face pack. The tube of Clarins goo she’d always used back in the pre-Iris days, when she had still had longer than two minutes in the day to pamper herself, was crusty and slightly dried up, but she squidged the tube until it ran cleanly onto her palm. There. Dab, dab, dab. God, she’d forgotten how
nice
this was, applying unguents onto one’s own skin, rather than Sudocrem onto one’s infant’s bare bottom.

Just as she was sliding the grey goo up the bridge of her nose, there was a soft knocking at the door, and her heart almost stopped. Christ! Was he here already? Did Jake have his own private jet these days,
à la
Leo Stone, his character?

She went to the door. ‘Hello?’ she called through the keyhole.

‘It’s only me, Dom,’ came the reply.

She glanced at herself in the mirror – oh Gawd, what a sight! Her eyes looked big and frightened, circled as they were by the face pack. And it never really suited her, that hair-scraped-off-the-face look.

‘Um . . . I’m just in the middle of something, actually,’ she said cautiously.

He was jiggling the latch. ‘Mind if I come in? I won’t stop for long.’

She sighed. What the hell. Once he saw her, he’d probably run a mile anyway, and then she could start filling the bath and shaving her legs. And squeezing her blackheads and plucking her nose hair and all the rest of it.

She opened the door and he laughed. ‘Ahh. Okay. Fair enough,’ he said, his eyes crinkling at the edges. ‘You really are in the middle of something.’

She grinned. ‘Yeah – you’ll never guess what?’ she said, the words bubbling out in her excitement. ‘I’ve just had a call from Jake – you know, my ex? He’s coming to see me. And Iris too – he’s never even met her before!’

Dom’s face seemed to fall slightly at this news. Then he smiled. Well, kind of, anyway. His mouth tilted up at the corners, but his eyes seemed anxious. ‘Oh, right,’ he said, in a polite way. ‘And . . . and you’re pleased about this. Obviously.’

‘Obviously,’ she echoed, beaming again as she thought about it. ‘Hence the beautifying and the cleaning and the . . . everything else,’ she said, waving a hand behind her.

He looked sad, then. ‘Alice – you look beautiful in your jeans with baby sick down your top,’ he told her. ‘And raspberry juice all over your hands.’ He pressed his lips together as if trying to stop himself.

She flushed. Thank goodness he couldn’t see it through the face pack! ‘Oh Dom, you are nice,’ she told him. ‘Thank you. But really – I should get on with making myself look presentable. I mustn’t blow it tomorrow, it’s really important.’

He nodded. ‘I understand,’ he said. He hesitated as if he wanted to say something else, then forced a smile. ‘Well . . . good luck.’

It was only as he walked away that she noticed the bunch of white flowers in his hand. A strange feeling swirled up inside her at the sight. He’d brought flowers again? Did that mean . . . ?

She banished the thought at once, blocked the white flowers from her mind. Jake was what she had to think about now. Jake was coming back to her and Iris, and they were going to get their happy reunion at long last! Now . . . was a home bikini wax going to be too painful?