by Adele Parks
‘Who?’ asked Julian, trying not to show his panic.
‘That woman who heads up the HR team. Can’t remember her name. Something creepy-crawlie. Terrible suits, huge backside.’
‘Lyn Fly?’
‘That’s it.’
‘Oh shit.’
Kirsten giggled. ‘What will she think if she sees the two of us together?’
Julian scowled at Kirsten. Was she being deliberately thick? It was obvious what anyone would think if they saw the two of them together, in a bar, after hours, they were so clearly here to discuss quantum physics. Some colleagues might be inclined to turn a blind eye, most would feel the need to spread a bit of gossip and the head of HR would have him out on his ear before he could say P45.
‘We can’t be seen together,’ he snapped. ‘You better go home. I’ll nip to the gents and leave ten minutes after you.’
‘I don’t want to go home!’ Kirsten said in a loud and indignant voice. Julian was pretty sure that the trendy, ambient background music had just screeched to a poignant silence and every eye in the bar was turned on them, just as though Clint Eastwood had walked into the saloon at noon to break up a gang of poker cheats.
‘Shush,’ he said urgently.
‘I’ve brought Daddy’s car. I was going to surprise you by driving you to Highview. Are you saying we’re not going?’ asked Kirsten crossly.
There was something steely and determined in the way she asked this that terrified Julian. He was pretty certain that if he didn’t agree to go to Highview in Kirsten’s daddy’s car then she might scream and scream and scream until she was ill, or at least until she’d well and truly secured the attention of Lyn Fly. He couldn’t risk it. He would go to Highview. Once there, he’d tell her that it was over between them. If she made a scene, at least they’d be in a private hotel room and no one would witness it. And surely she wouldn’t make a scene, would she? She was a good-time girl. She’d know he was talking sense when he told her all good things had to come to an end. He’d let her have the room for the night, he’d even throw in a manicure or whatever she wanted at the spa if it made her happy. She loved that spa. It would be OK. The lid didn’t have to blow on this.
‘OK. Where are you parked?’ he asked.
‘Just round the corner, in the NCP.’
‘I’ll go and say hello to Lyn and while I’m talking to her and have her attention, you slip away. I’ll see you at the NCP in ten. OK?’
‘Maybe I should keep her talking and you slip out,’ offered Kirsten.
‘No, Kirsten, she’ll notice me. She won’t notice you,’ pointed out Julian gruffly.
Kirsten thought Jules was wrong about that actually. She wasn’t invisible. She was just the sort of girl that women with big asses always noticed. But whatever, she would follow his plan if it made him happy, as long as he paid for the car park she didn’t really care.
19
‘I never imagined you’d ever call.’ He could not disguise the mystification and the pleasure in his voice although he wished he could as he knew both emotions were unwieldy and that Stephanie might find them slightly oppressive. He was so incredibly happy to see her and, for the moment, that was enough – that was everything, although he was no fool, one glance at her confirmed that she did not feel at all happy. Her face was ashen and her eyes – normally wide and beautiful – were tiny slits that just pushed through her red puffy lids. It was obvious that she’d been crying hard. ‘Are the boys OK?’ Although he’d never met the children he’d seen plenty of photos of them and had a genuine interest, not least because he knew those small boys held their mother’s heart. She nodded. So not the boys. Then it had to be her husband.
‘I never planned on calling,’ she confessed.
‘But you have.’ Subhash treaded carefully. He knew from past experiences that Stephanie would only surrender as much as she wanted to. If he hurried her, she might vanish. She was always disappearing from his life. She would argue that she wasn’t ever really in his life and therefore, technically, she couldn’t disappear from it. He didn’t agree. She was very much part of his life.
He thought about her all the time. He ran through the conversations they had had and he imagined those he’d like to have. If he tasted something new he wondered whether she might like it, when he was listening to Bach or Vivaldi he wondered whether she’d be moved by it. Subhash was a fan of classical music although he was rather self-conscious about admitting as much because people thought it meant more than it did. They thought it meant he might not enjoy watching Little Britain or that he was above grabbing the occasional burger from McDonald’s if he was starving and in a hurry, both of which Subhash did. But since he’d met Stephanie, Subhash had started to see what people liked about pop songs. They spoke to him. They were all about him. Songs, poems and literature, the same! Alicia Keyes really knew a thing or two about love, as did those boys in that band Scouting For Girls. They knew about loss and women who wouldn’t pick the guy who most deserved her. Not that it would be something he’d rush to admit to either but he’d got into the habit of staging what amounted to private mini karaoke sessions. First, he’d check the windows were shut (so as not to disturb the neighbours) and then he liked to play these songs at full blast. I’m not over you and I know that I should be. He’d sing along until he was practically hoarse, it was some sort of relief. And he’d bought himself a copy of Carol Ann Duffy’s love poems. Now, she’d nailed it.
For all these reasons Subhash couldn’t resist repeating, ‘But you did call me.’
‘It seems that way,’ said Stephanie.
She probably didn’t appreciate him making her spell it out but she must understand why he needed to. She’d refused him often enough. Pushed him away. Knocked him back. Again and again. She used to react so angrily when he called her and she’d insisted that he leave her alone because she’d always firmly believed that was the right thing to do, but if it was so bloody right, why did it feel so awful? he’d asked. By way of an answer she’d repeat the facts. She was married. He was married. Yes, technically, he was. But Paadini spent nine months of the year in India with her family. She only came back to England from time to time for appearances’ sake, to pretend to the world they had a marriage, when in fact they had a son, a history and a respectful partnership. He’d thought that was enough, he knew it was quite a lot more than many couples enjoyed. He’d imagined he’d be with his wife until his dying day. That was, until he’d met Stephanie.
It didn’t make any sense on any level. He had never been unfaithful to Paadini in all their years together and, normally, he didn’t even find western women particularly attractive. In comparison to Indian women, westerners could sometimes seem brash and clumsy, or even needy and irrational but Steph was none of those things. She was kind, warm and angelic. She was dignified and intelligent and, he’d long since suspected, she was more than a little bit undervalued by her own husband. Against his better judgement Subhash had pursued her. Gently, with little kindnesses. Softly, with thoughtful words. Stephanie had said he had no business being kind, no business calling her. Wanting her. That’s what she’d said, many, many times. Oddly, while her morals certainly stood in the way of what he wanted, he couldn’t help but admire her for them. Without them she wouldn’t have been a woman he could love. So, logically, he had to respect her wishes and eventually he had stopped calling her. He’d hoped that she’d miss him then, he dreamt that she’d be desolate once he’d done as she’d demanded. Maybe she was. That would explain why they were here, back where it started.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her. He drank her in. What was it that was making her so sad? How could he help? Always, that was his first thought. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to become invaluable to her. Indispensable. She wouldn’t meet his eye. Instead she glanced around the steaming, bustling coffee shop. It was packed full of teenagers, the pleasant sort, who were too young and innocent to be in a pub. She watched as they flirted with one another –
laughing and teasing – then eventually she was moved to comment.
‘Life is so uncomplicated when you’re their age.’ She sounded weary. He wanted to lift her spirits but it was hard without knowing exactly what was wrong. He could guess, he wasn’t an idiot. He knew what made women cry – their men. It was probable Julian was having an affair. The idiot. The blind idiot. How could he fail to value what he had, when what he had was so extraordinary? Subhash had never believed that the man worked the hours he claimed to. Subhash ran a very successful business and he knew what it was to work hard and he also knew that some men hung around their offices if their assistants were pretty and their wives no longer held an allure. It was extraordinarily commonplace. Still, Julian was a fool not to appreciate Stephanie, thought Subhash, he must be certifiable.
‘I think that might be a nostalgic, rose-coloured-glasses opinion,’ he said gently. ‘Life is complicated for everyone.’
‘Yes, maybe,’ she sighed and he got the feeling he hadn’t cheered her up. ‘I’m not used to being in the coffee shop at this time of evening, normally I pop in just after drop-off or before pick-up.’
Subhash noticed that Stephanie structured her life in such a way that she used the terms ‘after drop-off’ and ‘before pick-up’ almost as an alternative to a.m. and p.m. She was a mother first and foremost. He realised this must be a great comfort to her children and a safeguard for her husband but it was a difficulty for him. He wanted the woman behind the mother. He was happy she was a mother, he saw a world where he would be a marvellous stepfather to her boys but he knew she could not see that world.
‘Throughout the day the café is always full of harassed mothers with buggies and one or two retired old guys, who nurse coffee cups and read newspapers that they don’t have to pay for,’ she mumbled.
It was so like Stephanie to try to fill their silences. He appreciated her manners and her efforts but his habit was different. He allowed silences to sit between them, he liked them. Silences were the stage for the really interesting acts. Still, while she took in the scene of youthful, hormonal activity and avoided his gaze, he could stare at her with an overwhelming longing.
He was used to openly acknowledging the fact that he wanted her and he was used to her denying that the feeling was reciprocated but he didn’t always believe her. Sometimes he thought that maybe she wanted it just as much. He had to have that hope or else it would be unbearable. Anyway, they’d constructed a fragile charade that allowed them both to appear to believe that what he was offering was friendship, what she was accepting was friendship; it had been that that allowed them to meet up on the few occasions they did, she could tell herself that it wasn’t threatening. He supposed she’d eventually stopped believing in the charade, that’s why she’d said they had to stop meeting. And now? Had the pretence – which sometimes suffocated her, terrified her – today, had it been the thought of him that had sustained her? Maybe. He took a punt.
‘My God, I’ve missed you,’ he muttered. ‘You know how I feel about you. You know I—’
‘Please, please don’t say that. Those are not the words I want to hear from you. Not right now,’ said Stephanie with surprising firmness. He had no way of knowing that she wanted to hear the rude words that had appeared on the texts. He would never imagine Stephanie had a need to hear words like licking, stroking, fucking. ‘It’s better if there are no words at all,’ she added. ‘I’ve heard the sweet words. Over the years they’ve been said. Love, forever, only you, until death do us part. Words mean nothing.’
Subhash understood this to mean that Julian’s words meant nothing. Poor Stephanie. She’d thought Julian’s words had meant something. She’d lived her life as though her vows had meant everything, even more than her happiness. Those words had had a dignity that sustained her and guided her. She must be devastated to see where that had landed her – disappointed, with puffy eyelids. Subhash wondered whether Steph had decided that two wrongs might make a right in this case.
‘It’s Julian,’ admitted Steph.
‘Yes.’ Subhash nodded to let her know he’d worked it out. He understood everything.
‘He’s having an affair.’ Steph shot Subhash a resentful look which he considered unjust. ‘Ironic, hey?’ she muttered bitterly.
‘A little. I’m sorry.’
‘You’ve nothing to be sorry for,’ she retorted sharply. ‘We haven’t had an affair!’
He couldn’t keep up. Her emotions were firing in every direction, he could practically feel the sparks coming off her. She put him in mind of one of those swirling fireworks you pinned to a fence. What were they called? A Catherine wheel, that was it. Dangerous-looking things that seemed to constantly threaten to come unstuck as they whizzed round and round, spitting out fizzling white embers.
‘Well, that must be some sort of comfort. At least you’ve always done the right thing,’ he murmured.
‘It’s no comfort, actually,’ she snapped. ‘In fact, that’s the worst of it.’ Stephanie took a moment to stare directly at Subhash. ‘It’s been hard, so hard to . . .’ She paused and grinned for the first time since she’d found Julian’s phone. ‘It’s been hard to resist you,’ she added finally. Subhash was gratified. ‘Do you know, there’ve been so many times when no matter how busy I made myself, the days still felt empty or tedious.’ Steph’s right hand fluttered to her other wrist and she played with her watch strap. This was a terrible thing to admit to him but she just couldn’t sum up the necessary strength to silence herself anymore. ‘There were so many days when I thought nothing would be nicer than spending time with you.’ She allowed herself to smile at him again. Greedily, he sponged it up. He’d thought, or rather hoped, this was the case and it was such a joy to finally hear her confirm it. ‘And only once or twice have I weakened and allowed myself the luxury of calling you. Only once or twice in all these months.’
He reached out to catch the hand that fiddled with her watch strap. As his fingers clasped around hers, his tips briefly brushed against her bare wrist. She shivered. He brought her hand to his lips and lightly kissed the tip of her middle finger. It was not normal behaviour for a couple their age, least not while they sat in the middle of a busy coffee shop.
‘So now you think it’s time to change tack?’ he asked carefully.
‘Yes.’
He understood. Now, she wanted action. Actions meant something. Actions could be depended on. It was what you did, not what you said, that counted. And it seemed that she knew what she wanted to do when she whispered, ‘We need to find somewhere we can be alone.’
‘Are you sure?’ he asked. Concern and delight battled in his heart.
‘Certain,’ she said and so they stood up and headed for the door, he following her, although neither of them really believed her.
20
Kirsten thought that, in retrospect, driving to the hotel had been a mistake. She had wanted to treat Julian, to take care of him, but it had backfired. He’d been really patronising about her driving skills. He’d actually asked her if she’d passed her test yet, just because she stalled at the lights and that arse in the white van had nearly shunted them! It was the white van man’s fault, he’d been driving too close and any decent boyfriend would have said as much, he would not have screamed out, ‘Jesus, Kirsten, look out! You nearly took out the guy on the bike.’ Everyone knew motorbikers were a nightmare! There were adverts telling drivers to look out for bikers, probably because they couldn’t look out for themselves, it wasn’t as if she was the first person in history to fail to spot one in her mirror. When Jules had snapped at her to, ‘just cut out the chattering and concentrate on what you’re doing or let me drive’, he’d reminded her of her father! Twat.
Maybe she should have let him take over the driving but she hadn’t and by the time they arrived at the hotel her nerves were in total shreds. She needed a drink. Julian did too by the look of him. He didn’t even crack a smile when the receptionist told them that they’d been upgraded to
a suite, free of charge! Before now, Kirsten had never really noticed what a miserable sod he could be. The moment they were in their room Kirsten opened the champagne and poured two glasses. She glugged hers back in seconds before Jules snapped, ‘I didn’t order champagne. That shouldn’t be here. It’s a mistake.’ He glared at the bottle as though it had just said something racist.
‘Why didn’t you order champagne?’ Kirsten demanded, quickly downing the second glass that she’d originally poured for him.
‘It’s overpriced here,’ muttered Jules, showing himself up to be a tight bastard as well as a grumpy one. Kirsten was furious. Wasn’t she worth it? She knew that when men started to question cost, they were questioning her value. For the second time in two days anger and disappointment threatened to overwhelm her. Why had Jules started to question her value? Fucking Brian Ford, was he gossiping? The problem was no man wanted something another man had passed over, it was a pride thing. What had Jules been going on about when he said they needed to talk? Men didn’t do talking. Not unless the thing they wanted to say was goodbye. Oh shit.
Kirsten decided she had no alternative but to rally. If she turned up the heat then she was certain that she could pull Jules back under her spell. There was no need to panic. He was probably just being testy because the journey here had been so frantic and hair-raising. Kirsten took some deep breaths, then plastered on a smile and turned to face her lover.
‘How about I run a deep, deep bubble bath for us both to share?’ she suggested in a breathy, sexy voice that was usually extremely effective. She snaked her arms around his neck but Jules broke away from her and walked determinedly to the other side of the room. She noticed that he still had his laptop in his hand, was he planning on working tonight?
‘I think I’d prefer a shower,’ he replied.
‘OK.’ Kirsten started to unfasten her blouse. She managed to flash a bright, cheeky grin and a bright, cheeky cleavage at the same time. Jules put his hands on hers and stopped her.