The Great Escape (18 page)

‘Ghost cello?’ Felix repeats, raising his brows.

‘It feels like it’s still there sometimes,’ Hannah declares, her cheeks flushing.

Felix frowns. ‘Only if you
let
it be there,’ he suggests gently.

‘Well, it’s kind of hard not to …’

‘But you
do
still want to get married?’ Lou cuts in. ‘I mean, you’re not having second thoughts, are you?’

‘Am I?’ Hannah drains her cup. ‘I really don’t know.’

‘You’re having doubts?’ Sadie asks, frowning. ‘Seriously?’

Hannah pauses. ‘I … I just can’t figure out how I’m ever going to fit into that family.’ Lou studies her friend, and although she wants to say it’ll be okay, she doesn’t know how to make it sound convincing. She sees a flicker of fear cross her face, and for a moment she sees the eighteen-year-old Hannah again, fresh from her village in Fife in her checked shirt and dungarees, stepping into the grown-up world, trying to look as if she knew what she was doing. As their eyes meet, Hannah holds Lou’s gaze for a moment. Then Hannah grins broadly and says, ‘God these truffles are moreish, Felix, I’ll have to have my wedding dress expanded at this rate.’ And she pops another one into her mouth.

TWENTY-FOUR

Spike has been in bed with Astrid for less than an hour and already it appears that she wants him to leave. ‘I’ve just got things on later,’ she says, sitting up and peering at the old-fashioned alarm clock on her bedside table, as if she’s suddenly become incredibly short-sighted.

He gazes forlornly at the most beautiful back he’s ever laid eyes on, resisting the urge to reach out and touch it. All that time wasted before he’d been able to get hold of her; then she’d insisted on knocking together a late lunch (it was hungry work, browsing books in the library, Spike thought dryly) before making umpteen calls, checking her emails and putting on a
wash
, for God’s sake. He was honoured that she hadn’t decided to clean the kitchen floor.

‘What kind of things?’ he asks in what he hopes is a tone of mild interest.

Astrid swings out of bed, pulls on plain white knickers and jeans and does up the clasp on her bra. ‘Just … a meeting. A work thing,’ she replies with her back to him.

Another ‘work thing’, right at the end of the afternoon? Astrid’s job has started to seriously impinge on their time together.

‘D’you really have to go?’ he asks lightly.

‘Yeah. Sorry, babe.’ Well, that’s just great. Spike has started to obsess over the measly £160 Rick paid him for the guitar; and now, with Astrid clearly on the verge of kicking him out, he feels even more ripped off. The sex was okay, although not quite up to their usual enthusiastic standard. Astrid is almost fully dressed, as if she’d just wanted to get it over and done with, like having her teeth scaled and polished.

Spike feels used. Now he knows how women feel when they complain about men being cold and uncommunicative after sex.

‘Damn,’ Astrid mutters, checking the clock again. ‘I’ve really got to go, Spike.’

‘Well … couldn’t you cancel it, just this once?’

‘What are you, hairy boy? My keeper?’ Astrid laughs, turning to face him as she sweeps back her honey-coloured hair with her fingers, then bends to pick up one of his socks from the floor and drops it onto his bare chest. She has yet to put on her top. The sight of her standing there, all slender in that rather sensible white bra sets something stirring in him again. Yet he’s being kicked out, discarded without a second thought, like a takeaway carton.

‘No, I don’t mean that, I just mean …’ He shrugs, affecting nonchalance. ‘I just thought you might have a bit more time to … y’know. Hang out.’

‘Well, I don’t,’ Astrid says briskly. She plucks her lilac top from the back of a chair, and disappointment pools in Spike’s stomach as she slips it on.

‘Maybe I could just hang around here, watch a bit of telly until you come back?’ he asks hopefully.

She shakes her head firmly. ‘Sorry, babe. C’mon.’

With a petulant sigh, Spike climbs out of bed and strides brazenly across her bedroom, gathering up his clothes from her oatmeal rug. At least she called him babe just then, not hairy boy. Where had that come from? The ‘boy’ part was fine, the ‘hairy’ part less so; Spike has always assumed she
likes
his manly chest. She’s always stroking and kissing and pressing her cheek against it, as if it were a much-loved pet. He frowns down at it now and quickly pulls on the fresh white T-shirt which he’d laundered specially on a hot wash while Lou was packing for Glasgow.

‘Ready?’ Astrid asks impatiently.

‘Yeah. Just got to find my shoes.’ He glances around her bedroom.

‘Did you leave them in the bathroom?’ Christ, she’s like an over-zealous chambermaid, pressurising him to leave the room so she can get on with servicing it.

‘Er, yeah, I might have.’ He stomps out and finds them kicked off by the loo, feeling foolish now as he returns to her boudoir, naked from the waist down and clutching them. Wordlessly, he pulls on his boxers and jeans, retrieves one sock from the bed and looks around for the other one. No sign of it, and Spike isn’t prepared to humiliate himself by trying to find it with Astrid watching, virtually drumming her nails on the bedside table. Who needs socks anyway? he thinks rashly, pulling on the one he’s managed to find, then lacing up his shoes. ‘Right, I’ll be off then,’ he announces, striding out of her bedroom and marching downstairs.

‘Oh, Spike …’ Astrid hurries after him. ‘I’m sorry about this. It’s just not the best time, okay?’

He shrugs. ‘It’s
fine
. It’s just different for me, you see. You’re single, you can do what you like. My life’s more …
complicated,
so I guess I build up these opportunities in my mind, and they mean a lot to me …’ That’s good. He can see Astrid’s expression softening, like ice cream.

‘Look, babe,’ she starts. He catches his breath, waiting for her to say
sorry for being so cold with you, darling, sorry for the library, the meeting and calling you hairy boy, let’s go back to bed and start all over again
…

‘I feel a bit weird, Spike,’ she adds, biting her lip.

‘What about?’ For a terrible moment, he thinks she’s going to tell him she’s pregnant.

‘I …’ Astrid clears her throat. ‘I wasn’t going to mention it but … I ran into Lou yesterday.’

‘Did you?’ He’d been hoping she wouldn’t bring this up, and feels the blood drain from his face.

‘She was heading home and I’d just been to the gym … I didn’t want to stop and chat but I saw her checking me out and it turned out she remembered me from your gig, the one before Christmas …’

Spike nods slowly. His lips have completely dried out, and his tongue feels as if it might be permanently gummed to the roof of his mouth.

‘So we stopped and chatted,’ Astrid continues, ‘and she was so friendly and nice, it made me think, is this right? Sleeping with you when you’ve got this lovely, sweet girlfriend at home, who obviously adores you …’

‘I … I don’t understand why you’re saying this,’ Spike blusters. ‘Yeah, Lou’s great, she’s loyal and faithful, but you and me – well, it’s really nothing to do with her …’

‘Loyal and faithful!’ Astrid cries, pink patches springing up on her cheeks. ‘You make her sound like a puppy. You’ll be praising her for peeing on newspaper next.’

‘Well, I didn’t mean …’

‘
And
you’ve been with her for about a hundred years. Of course it’s to do with her. And I just felt, I don’t know … such a hypocrite, kind of small and pathetic, being all friendly with her in the street.’

‘Listen,’ Spike insists, his sockless foot starting to feel clammy already, ‘with me and Lou it’s just … just
stale
, that’s all.’ He shrugs helplessly, trying to evoke sympathy. ‘We’re like flatmates, okay? There’s no spark.’

‘You mean,’ Astrid says carefully, ‘you don’t sleep with her anymore?’

‘Well, uh …’ Spike can sense himself flushing. ‘We do share a bed, yeah …’

‘No sex though?’ Astrid’s finely-arched brows shoot up.

‘Well
yeah
, once in a blue moon, but it’s quite an empty experience, to be honest.’

‘Oh, poor baby. How awful for you.’ Astrid smiles tersely. Five minutes ago, she’d been desperate to kick him out so she could rush off to her precious meeting. Now, when it comes to grilling him on the state of his relationship, it seems she has all the time in the world.

Astrid is focusing hard on his face. Spike is finding the intensity of her blue-eyed gaze a little unnerving. ‘Would you consider leaving Lou?’ she asks in an eerily calm voice.

‘Huh? You want me to leave Lou?’ He’s completely confused now. He’s crazy about Astrid – loves her even – and he’s certainly never met anyone he’s desired more. And he’d assumed she was happy with their arrangement – that she preferred it that way, in fact.

‘It’s not about what I want,’ she says sharply. ‘It’s about you, Spike. What
you
want. D’you want to leave Lou?’

He exhales loudly, wanting to leave now and hurry home to the sanctuary of his woman-free flat. Christ – he’s spent all week fantasising about the various scenarios he and a naked Astrid could possibly find themselves in. He hadn’t imagined being made to feel like ten tons of crap in her hallway. ‘I … I don’t know really,’ he mumbles.

‘Don’t you?’ Her nostrils flare a little. ‘It’s a simple enough question.’

‘I know. I suppose I haven’t given it much thought …’

Astrid musters a smile, and Spike is relieved to see her face soften again. ‘I’m not saying this to make you feel awkward,’ she says in a gentler tone. ‘I just think Lou deserves some consideration, especially as she’s thoughtful enough to stock your fridge so you don’t go hungry while she’s away.’ Spike looks at her bleakly, feeling like a scolded schoolboy. ‘Want to think about what I’ve said?’ Astrid asks.

Spike nods again and turns for the door. ‘Yeah. I’ll call you, okay?’

Astrid steps forward and kisses him. Then, as if determined to thoroughly confuse him, she adds, ‘You do that. See you around, hairy boy.’

TWENTY-FIVE

‘God, Felix,’ Hannah says, ‘we’re all talking about our lives, guzzling your champagne and eating your truffles and we’ve hardly asked about you. You must think we’re so rude and self-obsessed.’ In truth, she wants to veer the conversation away from Daisy and Josh.

Felix chuckles and sips from his cup. ‘Oh, you don’t want to know about my sad little life.’

‘Come on,’ Lou exclaims. ‘It’s hardly sad – you’ve got bars dotted all over the country – and you can’t tease all this information out of us and tell us nothing.’

‘I didn’t tease it out,’ he says in a mock-hurt voice. ‘You just told me.’

‘I suppose we did,’ Sadie laughs. ‘But what about you? Are you married, Felix?’

He pauses, and for the first time, seems to lose his composure a little. ‘I was almost married,’ he says carefully.

‘Almost?’ Hannah repeats gently, noticing with alarm that his grey eyes have misted over and his pale lashes are fluttering as if to bat away sudden tears. Hell, now she wishes they’d stuck to the topic of
her
marriage.

‘What happened, Felix?’ Lou asks kindly.

‘My intended …’ He presses his lips together, as if mustering strength. ‘Well, let’s just say she had it off with my best friend Rashley – my best man, in fact – and chose the night before our wedding to make the big confession.’

Hannah, Sadie and Lou fall silent. Felix rolls a stray truffle across the table with a finger. ‘That’s terrible,’ Hannah breathes.

‘God, how awful for you,’ Lou exclaims. Felix sniffs loudly and the girls glance at each other, wondering what to do next.

‘At least you knew,’ Hannah offers, ‘before you went through with it.’

Felix nods and offers them a wobbly smile. His eyes aren’t just moist now; they are filling with tears, threatening to spill over any moment. ‘Bet you wanted to kill him,’ Sadie offers.

‘Well, yes, but I’m just a big old coward really, so I just …’ He shrugs. ‘I just retreated from the scene.’

‘And the wedding was cancelled?’ Hannah asks.

‘Absolutely, leaving a whopping three-tier cake with mine and Amanda’s name on it in rather tacky gold icing.’ He forces a laugh, and Hannah touches his arm.

‘Oh, Felix. And here I am, moaning about Ryan’s kids … it makes my worries seem pretty pathetic.’

‘Mine too,’ Sadie adds. ‘I mean, however tough it is at the moment, at least I
trust
Barney …’

‘Me too,’ Lou adds. ‘Spike wouldn’t have the energy to get up to anything anyway.’ Everyone sniggers, lightening the mood.

‘Right,’ Felix declares, wiping his eyes with the back of his large, fleshy hand as he stands up unsteadily. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me, girls, this business has made me quite upset, and I think we’re out of supplies so I’m going to get myself a little something from the bar.’

‘Of course,’ Hannah says, leaping up and quickly moving aside to let him pass.

‘Can I get you something?’ he asks.

Hannah shakes her head firmly. ‘No thanks …’

‘No, we’re fine,’ Lou adds as he totters along the aisle and disappears to the next carriage. Hannah, Sadie and Lou stare at each other. ‘Jesus,’ murmurs Sadie.

‘Poor man,’ Hannah adds, and Lou nods in agreement. ‘Imagine his girlfriend doing that.’

‘And imagine having a friend called Rashley,’ Sadie jokes, ‘and using phrases like “had it off”.’

‘At least he didn’t marry her,’ Hannah adds, feeling strangely loyal to this drunk, jilted man, and unwilling to discuss him with other passengers in earshot – passengers who’ve been throwing each other amused and exasperated glances as Felix’s voice boomed through the carriage.

‘He seems heartbroken,’ Lou adds. ‘I wonder how long ago it happened?’

‘Must be pretty recent,’ Sadie observes, ‘to make him well up like that.’

Hannah nods, and the girls contemplate the awfulness of such deceit, until Felix reappears, looking a little more together now, clutching a coffee.

They finish the truffles, the conversation switching to lighter matters such as where they might go tonight. Twenty-five minutes later, as their train approaches Glasgow Central station, it would appear that Hannah, Sadie and Lou have made a new friend.