Year of Being Single (31 page)

‘I’m glad you got to experience how mind-numbing all that stuff is. I saw your Monica cupboard, by the way.’

‘Did you? Oh God! I wanted to create a good impression. I’m afraid it did involve shoving a load of junk in there ten minutes before you turned up!’

‘Don’t beat yourself up. I do the same, in a multitude of cupboards, before mum and dad come over. You just never noticed. You didn’t have to.’

‘I’ll change,’ he repeated. ‘And I want to help the kids to change, too. To be
better
– we don’t want them growing up to be like me.’

‘No, we don’t,’ said Frankie. ‘Or to be too soft, like me. I’ve been thinking about this a lot. How they got so bad. You’ve been lazy and I think my own parents were so strict with me that I’ve completely gone the other way with the children. Over-compensated. Tried to be their friend, the best, most brilliant mum in the world. It’s back-fired, hasn’t it?’

‘It may have done. I think if we put in more rules and boundaries then we’ll all have a better time. Kids love boundaries; I heard it on the news the other day.’

‘Who knew?’ She laughed, but she felt hopeful. It sounded like Rob was finally ready to be a help not a hindrance. They could work on things
together.

‘And I’ll get rid of the kit car.’

‘Really? You love Kit!’

‘Where can we go in it, unless we get a sidecar? It was a selfish pursuit, with a selfish end – me going off on my own. I don’t want to be on my own. I want to be with you.’ He locked eyes with her. She remembered the green fleck he had in his left eye. She hadn’t noticed it for a very long time. ‘Remember that day you came over here? I really wanted to ask you to come with us, to the museum. But I couldn’t, I wanted to make you see I could do it on my own.’ He ran a hand through his hair. He looked knackered. ‘You did look lovely that day, though.’

‘Did I?’

‘You always look lovely, Frankie. I should really have told you more often.’

‘You never told me at all, Rob.’

‘I know. I’m sorry.’ He looked her right in the eye. ‘I promise I’ll bring some romance back into our lives. You deserve it. You’re still lovely, Frankie.’

Frankie gulped. She knew she looked terrible after all that crying earlier, but it obviously wasn’t bothering Rob. Blimey, this
was
bordering on romantic. There’d been no romantic moments with Rob for about fifteen years. She’d love romantic moments in her life again.

‘I love you,’ said Rob.

She got a funny feeling in her stomach. A feeling Rob hadn’t generated for aeons. She could see in his face that lad she’d met in The Ram, all those years before. He looked handsome, tender, earnest, and utterly delighted with her. Could they get it back, what they’d had before life got in the way?

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, I’m bloody sure. I want to be with you.’ His face took on a hurt puppy look. ‘Frankie? Help me out here, for God’s sake!’

She’d enjoyed her time on her own, going it alone. She’d proved she could do it. She’d rediscovered her sense of fun and adventure. She’d even kissed another man.

It was now time to be part of a team again. On better terms.

‘And I want to be with you, Rob.’

His face relaxed; his eyes lit up. ‘You do? Really? Do you mean it?’

‘Yes, I mean it.’

‘So we can get back together? Can I come home?’

She’d loved being single. She was sorry she hadn’t managed it for a whole year. But she’d made her decision.

‘As long as you bring your new laundry skills with you, yes, you can come home.’

‘Thank God for that!’ said Rob and he sat, with his head down, and exhaled for what seemed like for ever. When he looked up he had tears in his eyes. ‘Come here.’ And he bundled her into a massive bear hug and held her so tightly stuffed into his neck she could hardly breathe. When he released her, he put his face close to hers and kissed her, in a way he’d done once upon a time. Way back when. It felt lovely. It felt like coming home. Then he put his arm round her and she nuzzled into his warm, familiar shoulder.

‘Were you on a date with that woman, that Jen?’ she suddenly said, pulling away from him slightly.

‘No, we’re just friends. But I like that you think I was.’ He grinned.

‘I don’t actually,’ she lied, sticking her tongue out. ‘Why would you be? She’s nowhere near as attractive as me.’

‘No, she’s not.’

‘And you’ve always hated Breton tops.’

He laughed. That way he laughed by throwing his head back and showing all his teeth. She’d missed that. ‘You’re terrible…’

‘
Mariel
,’ she added.

And he pulled her close to him again and they sat like that, in each other’s arms, for ages, and watched
The Love Boat
, which somebody had decided was just right for putting on telly at one in the morning.

They were back together, and everything was perfect.

Chapter Thirty: Grace

I need to see you. This morning. Will NOT be paying you. 11am at Luigi’s

That’s me told, lol! OK. See you there.

Inappropriately flippant, but what did he know?

On Monday morning, after she’d taken Daniel to school, Grace walked into Luigi’s. She’d taken the morning off work. Pretended she was unwell. Gideon had not been happy, but when was he ever? And she
did
feel unwell. After she’d witnessed Greg and his client at the hotel, she’d spent the rest of Sunday staring at the television, seeing nothing. She knew she had to talk to Greg. She knew she wouldn’t rest until she had.

Greg was sitting at the same table, although he was dressed a lot more casually this time. T-shirt and jeans instead of shirt and trousers. He still looked completely gorgeous. He was a very attractive man. But he was a man who last night had been paid for sex. And he would continue to be paid for sex. He would not give up his job for her so. He was not the
man
for her.

He smiled that slow, sexy smile as she walked over to the table. Damn! She had a fleeting hope – and she knew it was just a hope – that he hadn’t done anything last night. That Leopard Print Lady had just wanted some company. She’d wanted to talk, to hold his hand and pour out all her troubles as she drank cheap house white from the mini-bar…

‘Hi,’ Greg said, cheerfully, ‘to what do I owe the pleasure, on a Monday morning?’

‘Less of the charm speak,’ she snapped. ‘We can dispense with all that now. I’m taking you off the payroll.’

Greg looked shocked but slightly amused. ‘Taking me off the payroll? What do you mean? You don’t want to see me any more?’

She sat down, with a bit of a bump. Banged her bag down on the table. It made quite a loud noise. No one else was in there. It didn’t matter. Nothing really mattered.

‘The pleasure was all someone else’s, last night, wasn’t it?’

He looked uncomfortable. ‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning, I saw you and Mrs Leopard Print come out of The Pacific Hotel yesterday morning. Looking quite happy. Quite
satisfied
, in fact. I was on my way to try and find you. I wanted to talk to you.’

‘Ah.’

‘Ah, indeed. And lots of other noises, no doubt.’

‘You saw me with Gill.’

‘Gill.’
Thanks for that. I’m not sure I wanted to know her name
. She felt so flat. Gill. Just a name. Just a woman. It could have been anyone. Anyone with some cash in her bag and a little free time she wanted filling.
He
certainly didn’t care. It was money. ‘What happened?’ she said, sadly, although she was trying to add a cutting edge to her voice. She doubted it was working. She expected she just sounded pathetic. ‘After we left each other on Saturday night? How did your night end with a paid booty call from
Gill
?’

‘She texted me when I was on the train.’

‘Oh.’ When was that, then? When he was reading her horoscope? Was
that
why he went so quiet afterwards?

‘She wanted to meet me for a nightcap. I went to the hotel.’

A
nightcap
. That old, rotten chestnut.

‘How nice. Why did you kiss me, Greg?’ Grace’s voice was rising. She felt sick. ‘You shouldn’t have kissed me like that, then slept with that woman. It’s disgusting!’

She hated this. This loss of control and power. She’d gone back exactly to how she felt when James had cheated. James had all the power, now Greg had it. She hated them both. She pushed back her chair with a harsh, metallic scrape and rose from the table.

‘Please don’t go, Grace,’ pleaded Greg. ‘Let me explain. I liked you. I really, really liked you. I meant all those things I said to you. Every word.’ She sat down again, deflated, but kept her chair where it was, away from the table. ‘I couldn’t resist kissing you. You’re gorgeous, you’re a lovely person. I think you’re amazing. You deserve someone amazing. But I
can’t
give up the escorting. I need the money. I’d never be able to make it another way…’

She cut him off. ‘No, Greg, this is the way you
want
to make money. You’ve chosen this. You
want
to do everything you’ve done, including sleeping with that woman.’ She knew she was sneering when she said
that woman
, but she couldn’t help herself. ‘You lied to me. You said to forget I was paying you and to see how things went. Those were your actual words, Greg.’

‘I’m sorry.’

Grace’s anger was escalating, but she knew she was most angry with herself – she’d gone into this with her eyes wide open. How could she have been so stupid, so naive?

‘You’re a prostitute now, Greg. That’s what you are. You’ve crossed that line and there’s no going back. Welcome to your new career; I hope it’s a great success.’

Greg shifted a little, in his seat.

‘Oh my God,’ whimpered Grace, feeling like she was going to faint. ‘I wasn’t your first client, was I?’

Greg had the audacity to actually blush a little.

‘You lied to me,’ she groaned. ‘Oh God, you say that to everyone don’t you, to make them feel special?
I bet you say that to all the girls
,’ she mocked. ‘How long have you
really
been an escort?’

‘Three years.’

‘Three years!’ Her stupidity and naivety knew no bounds. She’d been a blind, trusting idiot!

‘Grace, Grace, look, it’s all academic. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t be the man for you. But I never was. Perhaps in another life…’ He tried to smile.

‘I hate it when people say that,’ she barked. ‘We’re not in another life, we’re in
this
one.’ Her voice lowered to a whimper. ‘You’ve lied to me on every level.’

‘Why were you coming to find me, anyway?’ Oh, change the subject, why don’t you? He’s so bloody calm, she thought, while she was falling apart.

‘It doesn’t matter now.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated. ‘Look, before you go and I never see you again, can I say something? I think you need to grieve for your marriage. I don’t think you’ve given yourself time to get over it.’

‘Well, thank you, Dr Phil!’ she said. And then she really couldn’t stand it any more. She pushed back her chair further, with another terrible screech, and stood up. ‘I’ve got to go. This whole thing has been a mistake.’

‘Take the good things from it, not the bad,’ said Greg. He stood up, too. He tried to hold out his hand to her. His eyes seemed to be pleading with her.

‘Goodbye, Greg. Enjoy the money.’

She walked out of Luigi’s. She headed down the street. And she began to cry. Finally, the tears she’d refused to cry for James, for her marriage, came flooding out. It wasn’t the best place for it – in the middle of town in broad daylight – and she must have looked ridiculous, walking down the high street sobbing and with tears running down her cheeks, but for once she was beyond caring what she looked like. It all came out: the hurt, the betrayal, the lies, the grief. James and that woman. The loss of her marriage. She sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, at one point having to duck into a shop doorway for a particularly loud bawl.

Once she’d finished, and blown her nose on a whole pack of floral-printed tissues, she started thinking. She had to find a way forward. A way to live now.
Were
there any good things to be taken from Greg? She really wanted there to be something, so this whole episode was not a complete waste of time. All the wasted years with James, now a wasted few months with Greg. The bastard and the escort. It would make a good book title.

What on earth was she going to do now?

Her phone chimed with a text. She extracted it from the neat little pocket inside her bag. Who on earth was this? Oh, it wasn’t a text, it was a ‘Hook’ from Hook, Line and Sinker. A message. It was that Tim again. The one who climbed mountains.

Hey, Grace, me again. Hope you are well. Are you by any chance free for that date we never had? I’ve had some absolute shockers, I can tell you – you may be my only hope!

There was a new photo in a circle next to the message. She enlarged it. It was Tim in a dinner suit, laughing, and clearly cropped from a group picture. There was a hand on each of his shoulders. Tim. He looked nice. He
seemed
nice. He liked her. He wanted to go out with her. She could message him back, arrange to meet, start all over again.

She could do that, couldn’t she?

Chapter Thirty-one: Imogen

It was the night of Imogen’s forty-first birthday party and she was as miserable as hell. So much for her distant dream that she’d be married by thirty! She hadn’t been married by thirty, or forty, or forty-one. She wouldn’t ever be getting married.

On her fortieth birthday – a cruise up the Thames and a night dancing in Mahiki – she still had hope. Now, that was gone, along with any desire to date, hook up with, sleep with or have anything to do with
any man ever again
. Being single wasn’t the worst thing. Single she could live with, happily. Being utterly
heartbroken
was the worst thing. Richard had shone a brief and heavenly beam of light on her life and now it had been taken away. She was left in the dark, alone and devastated.

It was Saturday night, almost a week to the day since she’d discovered the truth about Richard. June the 27th. Happy bloody birthday. As she sat on the train opposite Frankie and Grace, all of them dressed up with somewhere special to go, she tried to muster up some – any – enthusiasm for tonight’s get-together. She couldn’t be doing with it. She couldn’t face going to The Summer Garden at London’s swanky, five star Residence Hotel with her two best friends, and Marcia, for a gorgeous dinner and some cocktails. She wanted to stay at home and sob under her duvet in despair because she’d lost the best man she’d ever known.