Stockings and Cellulite (28 page)

As the start of a new week got underway, whilst on the school run Toby gleefully informed me that Charlotte and Stevie had rowed over the weekend. My ears instantly pricked up.

‘Dad told Charlotte off for exposing her boobies,’ confided Toby.

Huh! So Stevie was getting all possessive about his young girlfriend was he? Presumably he didn’t approve of the plunging low tops she wore. Surely he should be more concerned about the virtually crotchless and bumless jeans she favoured wearing?

‘And Charlotte yelled that if she wanted to be photographed in the noddy then it was her business,’ added Toby, ‘and that she was seriously considering a new career as a prawn star.’

‘What?’ I gasped.

Liv chimed in. ‘Then Charlotte burst into tears and confessed she’d only been glamour photographed to make Daddy jealous. And guess what else Mum? She accused Daddy of still being in love with you.’

‘How utterly absurd,’ I dropped the car into second gear and pulled up smartly outside the school gates. ‘See you later kids. We’re going to start packing for our holiday this afternoon.’

‘But we’re not going until the weekend.’

‘Never leave things to the last minute,’ I warned.

‘Cool Mum. See ya.’

As my working day progressed, I offered up a silent prayer of thanks that very soon I would be shot of the irascible and ill-tempered Martin Henniker before the start of the long summer holiday. With a bit of luck, by the time I returned in September he would have successfully secured a permanent secretary.

The minute I was back home I set about locating three rather battered suitcases. However, I’d barely got as far as tossing sun creams into their depths when Nell turned up on the doorstep seeking coffee and gossip.

‘What’s that dog doing with you?’ I frowned as Rocket goosed me, clearly hoping walkies or a jog might be on the agenda.

‘Don’t be like that Cass,’ Nell shot me an injured look before settling herself down at the kitchen table.

‘Sorry, sorry,’ I sighed as Rocket sank mournfully to the floor.

‘I simply wouldn’t be without her you know,’ Nell patted the dog’s head.

‘Me neither,’ I lied.

My neighbour instantly brightened. ‘And I can’t thank you enough for suggesting I get a dog in the first place. Rocket’s arrival ended all my broodiness.’

‘Excellent.’

I placed the coffees on the table and sat down opposite Nell. By our feet Rocket gently snored and broke wind.

‘Phew,’ I flapped my hand about in a futile attempt to disperse the smell. ‘Does she do that at home?’

‘Yes,’ Nell smiled fondly. ‘She’s just like a real baby – full of wind but thankfully without the colic.’

‘And is Ben as captivated by Rocket as you are?’

Nell’s brow puckered. ‘Actually no. She’s a bit of a sore point if you must know.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘He’s accused me of loving the dog more than him. Can you believe it? I mean what sort of a ridiculous claim is that! If anybody was going to feel jealous then I would have thought it would have been Dylan. Sibling rivalry and all that.’

‘Hardly!’ I spluttered. ‘Rocket is the family dog Nell, not Dylan’s sister.’

‘She’s like a daughter to me,’ Nell said defensively.

‘Well, sure, I know there are loads of pet owners who would agree with you to a certain degree, but don’t prioritise her over your husband and son.’

‘Oh for goodness sake Cass, you sound like Ben. Now get the biscuit barrel out and let’s change the subject.’

I tipped some biscuits onto a plate. ‘Everything is all right between you and Ben isn’t it?’

‘I’m not answering that question,’ she snapped and promptly crammed an entire custard cream in her mouth.

The clothing level in the suitcases slowly rose. In due course Livvy and Toby broke up from school for the long summer break. Suddenly it was the morning of our Spanish holiday.

We crept out of the house just as the sparrows were stirring. A burly taxi driver hauled the luggage into his boot, huffing and puffing a great deal.

‘Gawd blimey luv, wot you got in this one then? A dead body?’

Arriving at Gatwick, we trollied the cases to a bank of check-in desks. A bleary eyed female greeted us, snatching sticky labels that spewed from a machine.

‘Each case should weigh no more than twenty three kilos. This one weighs thirty two.’

‘Is that a problem?’

‘It is if you want to take this particular suitcase on holiday.’

‘Well of course I do. But I haven’t got time to go home and repack.’

The woman shot me a withering look. ‘You do it here.’

‘
Right
here?’

‘Right here.’

There then followed a very sweaty ten minutes rearranging and distributing the contents of the suitcases whilst holding up a disgruntled queue. Finally the hateful luggage whirred off through a synthetic flap curtain just as my stomach growled in hunger.

‘Come on kids, let’s grab some breakfast. Livvy? Earth to Planet Livvy?’

‘Sorry Mum,’ my daughter tore her eyes away from the milling crowd and gave me a distracted look.

‘What’s up?’

‘Nothing. There was a girl. I dunno, for a moment I thought she was Petra.’

‘Hardly. Come on. Let’s go and attack some sausage and bacon.’

In no time at all we were forming a straggly line to board the plane. It was usually at this point that cold fingers of fear descended regarding the whole flying experience. As a familiar sensation of dread curdled within my bowels, I firmly told myself to keep chipper in front of the twins.

Squeezing myself into a bucket seat, I foraged in my hand luggage for the latest
Hello!
and quickly got stuck in. Anything to distract myself as the plane slowly trundled off to the runway.

All was going swimmingly well until I tuned in to the Captain introducing
her
self.

‘Oh my God. A woman is flying this aircraft.’

‘Mum! How could you be so sexist?’ hissed Livvy in outrage. ‘You’re female yourself.’

‘It’s because I’m female that I’m worried,’ I informed my daughter. Livvy had yet to get acquainted with the evils of PMT.

But the flight went without incident. As we stepped off the aircraft we were flattened by invisible fists of heat beating down upon us. An eager taxi driver ushered us into the depths of his air-conditioned cab delivering us to our modest but charming apartment around midday.

Swapping our hot jeans for cotton shorts and tops, we set off to investigate the whereabouts of the local supermarket.

‘After we’ve stocked up on basic provisions we’ll suss out restaurants for our first evening meal,’ I chattered happily. ‘Who fancies pizza?’

‘Sounds good,’ Livvy enthused.

‘Toby? What about you? Toby I’m talking to you!’

‘Sorry Mum,’ my son replied, his eyes scanning the sidewalk opposite. ‘I could have sworn I just saw – oh never mind.’

After putting the essentials away in the tiny kitchenette, we enjoyed a leisurely supper at a pavement café and watched the world go by. Across the road the ocean relentlessly swished, emerald green waves tumbling over sapphire blue before bursting into frothy foam on the shell strewn sand. Holiday makers thronged the pavements wafting the bitter citrus scent of insect repellent.

I gave a contented sigh. Divorce, disastrous dates, the ex-husband’s conquests, work and the hateful Martin Henniker suddenly seemed remote and faraway. Plunging into the holiday mood I ordered a jug of fruity sangria for myself and monster cokes for the twins.

‘Cheers,’ I toasted. ‘Here’s to a happy holiday.’

The following morning, armed with rubber rings and sunbathing paraphernalia, the three of us traipsed off to the beach, pale limbs conspicuous. Sand the colour of antique gold stretched out before us, dotted with sunbeds and bleached straw parasols.

Spotting three empty sunloungers grouped together, I frogmarched towards them dumping everything with a sigh of relief on the nearest mattress. Five minutes later the twins were splashing in the sea and I was sprawled on my tummy, firmly clutching a jumbo blockbuster. Two lines into the first chapter I paused and glanced around. There seemed to be an awful lot of boobs on display. Wherever I looked there they were – wobbling about in the waves, flopping sideways on sunloungers or simply bobbing up and down as their owners strolled along the shore. In fact, I appeared to be the only female wearing a bikini top. After the tiniest of hesitations, I curled a hand behind my back and unravelled the shoestring ties.

Liv and Toby splashed, swam, jumped waves and built sandcastles with moats and elaborate turrets while I simply turned one page after another, occasionally shifting position. Bliss.

Several chapters later, a shadow fell across my page blotting out the sun. I squinted through the black and white dots of light that danced across my vision. A man stood before me. An awfully familiar man. I slammed the blockbuster against my chest.

‘Hello Cassie,’ said Jamie.

‘What are you doing here?’ I squeaked, hastily rearranging my blockbuster.

‘I thought we had a date?’

‘We did?’

‘Yes. To take the kids out all together and make a day of it.’

I stared at him in confusion. ‘In Spain?’

‘Well, why not?’ Jamie hunkered down next to me. I clasped the blockbuster tightly. ‘Confession time Cassie. I knew you were holidaying in Spain – you told me at Matt’s barbecue, remember? You even regaled how lucky you were to achieve a booking because there were only two apartments left. The very next day I booked the remaining apartment.’

‘I see,’ I replied, not seeing at all. ‘Er, why?’

‘Because,’ Jamie momentarily faltered, ‘because at the risk of gate-crashing your private break Cassie, I wanted to see you.’

I clung to the blockbuster, aware that Jamie was probably seeing a great deal more of me than he’d actually bargained for.

‘You wanted to see me?’

‘Yes. Actually, I want to see you all the time.’

‘You mean,’ I stared at him uncertainly, ‘you like me?’

‘Yes. I’ve dropped enough hints and tried telling you so many times but there was always some interruption or another. So I’m telling you now. I like you. I like you very much.’

‘Do you?’

‘I do.’

‘You like me as in,’ I waved a hand about, ‘as in
fancy
me?’

‘As in fancy you.’

‘You
fancy
me?’ I shrieked causing several sweating torsos to shift with interest in our direction.

‘Cassie you’re not making this very easy for me. I want to
see
you. Go
out
with you.
Date
you.
Woo
you.’

‘You want to woo me?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you?’

Jamie threw up his hands. ‘Stop! Just. Stop. Right. There. Look, I need to get back to Petra and Jonas. I’ve left them in a souvenir shop armed with a wad of Euros eyeing up an assortment of hideously oversized inflatables.’

I giggled. ‘Sounds like Morag’s chest.’

He grinned, but the smile slowly faded as his eyes held mine.

‘So can I see you?’

‘Oh yes please,’ I reached out clumsily for him promptly dropping the blockbuster. As Jamie reached for the book, my arm whipped protectively across my bosoms and caught him a glancing blow on the chin.

‘Ouch!’

‘Omigod, I’m so sorry,’ I stretched my hand up to rub the reddening area around his mouth. Jamie caught hold of my trailing fingers and kissed them one by one. I nearly fainted.

‘I’ll only forgive you if you agree to have dinner with me tonight.’

Needless to say I spent absolutely ages tarting up.

When the twins discovered Petra and Jonas were in Spain too they were overjoyed. They shrieked ecstatic greetings to each other before clattering off down the apartments’ marble landing. Their voices echoed back up the stairwell where Jamie and I stood. Any moment now he would kiss me. I felt almost dizzy with anticipation.

‘Well come along then,’ he bounded energetically after the children, ‘I don’t know about you but I could eat a horse.’

‘Oh yes, me too.’ Actually I didn’t think I could swallow a fly. Wasn’t a failing appetite meant to be a pretty accurate measure of one’s lovesickness?

Puffing after everybody in crippling high heels – which had only been worn to lengthen my legs and wow the man who professed a desire to woo me – we headed off to the taxi rank. And completely bypassed the drivers.

‘Er, Jamie? Hello? EXCUSE ME!’ I bellowed at five retreating backs.

‘What’s the matter Cassie?’

‘Aren’t we taking a cab?’

‘Not on a beautiful evening like this.’

Marvellous. I click-clacked after everybody, my footwear reducing me to lots of tiny quick-steps. Five minutes later I ripped the offending heels off my feet and sprinted after the others.

We followed a meandering walkway that hugged the shoreline all the way to the marina. Jamie led the children into a white balconied restaurant. I rammed my feet back into the loathsome stilettos and plunged into the semi-lit room.

My goodness, this was nice. Very nice indeed. Cushioned seats complimented gingham tablecloths cloaked in flickering candlelight. I perked up a bit. Yes, this was the perfect place for a spot of flirty amour. At least it was until the children noisily appropriated tasselled menus, clamoured for Cokes and shrilly deliberated whether to eat pasta or test out one of the lobsters cowering in a nearby tank. A mournful looking waiter, who bore a striking resemblance to Bassett hound, patiently wrote down the children’s indecisive requests with an air of long-sufferance.

Eventually, orders complete, the children chatted excitedly amongst themselves.

‘Cassie,’ Jamie turned to face me, ‘I’m so sorry for gatecrashing your holiday but – no listen to me,’ he waved away my protests. ‘I was desperate to see you. I appreciate you came away to enjoy your own space and have time with Livvy and Toby – and I promise not to spoil that. So how about we do our own thing during the day but meet up in the evenings?’

But my concentration had momentarily lapsed as I caught the tail-end of Petra’s conversation. Something about Selina – Jamie’s stunning ex-girlfriend.