Thinking of You (16 page)

It was ten past eight on Saturday evening. Ginny was out at work. Carla was standing in her kitchen determinedly not looking at her switched-off phone.

If she owned a pair of handcuffs she'd chain herself to the stove and swallow the key.

Oh God, this was unbearable. She was wavering badly. Last night she'd barely slept at all, her mind frenziedly replaying every second of the brief and fateful encounter with Perry Kennedy. And every minute of today had been filled with more of the same, because she couldn't stop thinking about him. If there was a switch to turn off, she would.

But there wasn't.

Twelve minutes past eight. She was winning so far. Meeting Perry mustn't happen, it just
mustn't
. He wasn't single; he was taken. More to the point, taken by Ginny. And Ginny was besotted with him, which made him so completely off limits it just didn't bear thinking about.

Dry-mouthed, Carla looked again at her watch. Twelve and a half minutes past now. He was there, waiting for her. And she was here. Which was the
right
place to be. And OK, maybe it was killing her but she only had another fifteen or twenty minutes to endure because surely if she hadn't turned up to meet him by eight thirty he would realize she wasn't coming and would go out.

Thirty minutes passed.

Forty minutes, then fifty. She was still here; she hadn't gone to Perry's flat. So why wasn't she feeling more relaxed?

At nine fifteen the doorbell shrilled and every nerve in Carla's body went into overdrive. This was why she hadn't felt more relaxed.

She opened the front door an inch, keeping the chain on, and hissed, “Go away. I'm not going to do this.”

“At least let me in.” Perry was wearing a hat as an attempt at a disguise and spoke in an anguished whisper. “I can't believe you made me come here. Laurel's just across the road; she could look out of the window at any moment and see me.”

Oh God, oh God. “I can't let you in. I just can't.”

“Carla, I'm not leaving.” He clearly meant business. “This is too important. We need to talk, you know we do.”

Carla trembled; she knew it too. But not here in her house, across the road from Ginny's.

“I'll come to your flat. You leave now. I'll follow in ten minutes.” Would she? Wouldn't she? She didn't even know herself.

“Promise,” Perry whispered.

“I promise.” Was that another lie? Maybe, maybe not.

“Ten minutes,” said Perry. “I'll be waiting.”

“OK. Bye.” Carla closed the door and saw his shadow recede through the hall window as he slipped away down the path to wherever he'd left his car.

She mustn't go,
she
mustn't
.

***

She parked her car haphazardly at nine forty, too agitated and filled with self-loathing to even check her reflection in the rearview mirror because that would mean having to look into her guilt-riddled eyes.

The car park was two hundred yards from his flat. Hurrying along the narrow, darkened street, Carla reminded herself that she knew barely anything about Perry Kennedy. When you met someone for the first time, you could be wildly attracted by their outward appearance, but that didn't tell you what they were like beneath the surface—they could have any number of wildly unattractive character traits that you had yet to discover.

OK, here it was, Perry's shop with its window full of printed T-shirts, and next to it the door leading up to his flat. Just an ordinary dark blue door with the 25B picked out in brass lettering that could do with a polish. See? She really didn't know him at all. Maybe a quick glance around Perry's flat would be enough to magically decimate any feelings she might have had for him, in less time than it took to squash a cockroach. He might live in utter squalor, for instance. That would be enough to turn her stomach. Or cat food bowls left soaking in the sink along with the rest of the washing-up—perfect. Or he might harbor a secret passion for train-spotting complete with model railway occupying pride of place in his living room. Or he could have the walls plastered with posters of topless girls reclining on motorbikes. Or maybe he liked to save all his toenail clippings and keep them in a glass jar in the kitchen.

Or better still,
other
people's
toenail clippings.

Sick with excitement and shame, lust and fear, and hoping against hope that there would be
something
up there to put her off him, Carla rang the bell and prepared herself for Perry to answer the door.

She took a deep breath and waited. And waited.

Rang the bell again.

Waited some more.

Nothing, oh God, he wasn't even here. Carla's heart began to clamor as panic rose; how could he not be here now?

Still no sign of life. She couldn't ring the bell again—he wasn't in the flat and that was that. Or he was there and was determined not to come to the door. Or he was there but he'd slipped in the shower, knocked himself unconscious, and was at this moment bleeding tragically to death on the bathroom floor…

OK, so he'd deliberately gone out.

Carla turned to leave. That was that then, over before it had begun. Well, she should be glad that at least one of them had come to their senses and—

“Carla.”

She spun round, saw him standing there in the doorway and let out a strangled cry of relief. The next moment Perry, now minus his absurd hat, was wrapping her in his arms, frenziedly kissing her face and squeezing the air from her lungs.

“I thought you'd changed your mind,” Carla babbled helplessly.

“Never.”

“You didn't answer the door!”

“I was up there.” He pointed to the curtained first-floor window. “I wanted to see how long you'd keep trying.”

“
Sadist
.”

“I needed to know if this means as much to you as it means to me.” He paused, gazing deep into her eyes. “Does it?”

“You bastard, you know it does. Otherwise I wouldn't be here, would I? Ginny's my best friend, I
hate
myself
…”

“Shhh, come on, let's get you inside.” He bundled her through the doorway and led her upstairs, and Carla knew that nothing about his flat, not even toenail clippings in the kitchen sink, could put her off him now.

But it was still a relief to see that there weren't any. Perry, watching her swiftly explore his domain, said, “What are you doing?”

“Checking you out. Don't interrupt. This wallpaper is hideous, by the way.”

“I know. I don't care. It's only a rented flat.”

“Your pillowcases don't match the duvet cover.”

“I'm anti-coordination.”

Carla swept past him out of the only bedroom and into the living room. “How charming, a surfboard propped against the wall.”

“Glad you like it.”

“And a banana skin in the wastepaper basket. Banana skins should go straight into the
kitchen
bin,” said Carla. “I
hate
the smell of bananas.”

“Ginny did mention you were freakishly tidy.”

“I am.” She was investigating the bathroom now. “And proud of it. The blade in your razor is blunt, by the way.”

“When it's time to slash my wrists I'll buy a new one. Shampoo meet with your approval?”

“It's all right I suppose.” Carla smelled the contents of the shampoo bottle. “I'm not wild about hair smelling of coconut.”

“Fine. I'll shave it all off.”

“And blue loo roll is just tacky.”

Perry had his hands on his hips, his head tilted to one side. “You're criticizing everything.”

“This lot needs to be criticized.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“You kept me waiting,” said Carla, “standing outside like an idiot.” She gestured briskly. “Well, this is me, getting my own back.”

Perry half smiled. “That's the other thing Ginny told me about you. She said you gave your men a hard time.”

“Could we please not talk about Ginny? I feel bad enough as it is.”

“OK. In fact I've got a better idea. Why don't we not talk at all?”

Adrenaline whooshed through Carla's body as she moved toward him. In her whole life she'd never felt like this before. And she was here now; they'd kept each other waiting long enough.

Clasping Perry's face between her hands and gazing hungrily at his thin, beautifully carved mouth, she said, “Fine by me.”

Their lovemaking was frantic, frenzied, and heightened by guilt. Carla had never known sex like it—and in her time she'd known a lot of sex. But now, instead of a purely physical connection, her emotions were involved too. For the first time, Carla belatedly realized. The connection between Perry and herself was
there
, inescapable and so overwhelming she wanted to cry.

This was what she'd been waiting for all her life and she hadn't even known it.

It didn't matter that the pillowcases didn't match the duvet. Where were the pillows anyway? Carla leaned up on one elbow and peered over the side of the bed. There they were, scattered on the floor along with the clothes she and Perry had torn off each other. Her dress was linen and would look like a dishrag unless it was hung up.

Who cared?

She closed her eyes. They had more important things to worry about than a crumpled dress.

“What are we going to do?”

“Hmm?” Perry was kissing her shoulder, snaking his hand along her thigh. “I'll give you a clue… I may need a few minutes before we try it again.”

“I mean about Ginny.”

The hand stopped snaking. “I don't know.”

“We have to tell her.”

“We can't.”

“We can. We have to. I'm an honest person,” said Carla. “I don't lie to my friends.”

“Did you tell her you were meeting me this evening?”

“No, because I haven't spoken to her all day. I've deliberately kept my phone switched off. But I won't deceive her. If you want to be with me, you have to tell Ginny it's over.”

“Oh God.” Perry rubbed his face in despair. “I
do
want to be with you. But… I just…”

More buts. Why was he hesitating? “OK,” said Carla, “which of us do you prefer?”

“You!”

“Because we're alike. You know it and I know it. I don't even really
know
you.” Her eyes filled with unexpected tears. “But I know we have to be together and I can't even believe I'm saying these things. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before, but it's happening now.”

Perry nodded, clearly torn. “You're right. It is. Bloody hell, this is difficult.” He turned his head to look at her. “Ginny's going to hate you.”

“I know, and I hate myself. She'll be distraught,” Carla said miserably. “And it's a double betrayal. Like being kicked in the teeth twice.”

“Does she really like me?”

“
Yes
.”

“How much?”

Carla rolled her eyes. “A
lot
. Plus, she thinks you like her too.”

“I do,” said Perry. “She's beautiful and funny and great company. I
do
like her. Just… not in
that
way.”

“Why not?”

“God, I don't know, do I? You can't help how you feel about people. Ginny's a lovely person. Maybe she's too nice for me. She's nicer than you,” he added with a brief smile. “But that's irrelevant. You're my type; you're the one I want. And she's not.”

They were going around in circles. Carla completely agreed with him that Ginny was a far nicer person than she was. She, Carla, was the focused successful saleswoman with the laser-sharp brain and body to match. Her wardrobe was super-chic, her life was just as she wanted it to be, and there was no aspect of it that she didn't like. Ginny, contrastingly, was warm and impulsive, disorganized and accident-prone. Clothes-wise, she was less than cutting edge. She was, as Perry had pointed out, beautiful and funny in a dizzy-blond kind of way, but she was also overwhelmingly maternal, cuddly, and nurturing, and with a capacity for forgiveness that Carla knew she could never hope to achieve.

Although she suspected even Ginny might find this a betrayal too far.

“We have to tell her,” Carla repeated.

“We can't.”

“But you said it yourself; Ginny's not your type! I don't know why you even
started
—”

“Look,” Perry interrupted, “there's Laurel to consider. I'm not proud of this, but I was pretty desperate. I charmed Ginny into taking my sister off my hands and the only way I could persuade her to let Laurel stay was by… well, I suppose you could call it emotional blackmail. But it worked. If I finish with Ginny, she'll chuck Laurel out; it's as simple as that.”

Carla recognized in a flash how alike she and Perry were; he had behaved ruthlessly toward Ginny and now she was equally prepared to be ruthless where Laurel was concerned.

“So? She's not five years old anymore. She's a
grown-up
.”

Perry heaved a sigh. “She's fragile. I know she's my big sister but she's always been the one who needs looking after. And since Kevin bailed out, she's been worse. She's depressed and clingy, and I know I shouldn't have to feel responsible for her, but I can't help myself. Going to live with Ginny was perfect, but if Ginny won't keep her anymore… well, I don't know what I'll do. Laurel will want to move back in here with me. God knows, it's not what I want to happen, but she'll beg and plead and I'll end up not being able to say no.” He turned his head and said bluntly, “Because she doesn't have anyone else or anywhere else to go.”

Oh God, this was turning into a nightmare. Carla couldn't bear to think about the trouble this thing with Perry was going to cause. Life would have been so much simpler if they'd never met.