Never Saw You Coming

by Hayley Doyle

  In fact, I can feel myself nodding off.

  Ah. This is nice. A little kip’s just what I need. Then I can say adios to this maniac and drive to Griffo’s dad’s, a bit more perky, head a bit clearer to explain why I’m so late. I know I won’t be getting fifty gr—

  Stop.

  I’m not ready to acknowledge this yet.

  I’m swaying. My eyes are closed, my body still, my head against the seat. And yet, I’m swaying. My whole everything sways, it swarms, it’s drowning in a black ocean of giant waves and I’ve forgotten how to swim. Or, no. I’m just too weak to survive it. I’m going to be sick. Oh God, if I keep my eyes closed, I will, I’ll vomit. Breathe. Just breathe, fella. Focus. I’m going to have to open my eyes and stop this merry-go-round spinning. But, I want some time, I want some sleep. It’ll help me out when I finally get the chance to see Griffo’s dad, especially since my phone’s dead and I can’t ring him. If I can just get some kip, I can apologise without yawning.

  Apologise?

  Griffo’s dad isn’t the sort of fella you want to apologise to.

  Oh, fuck this day. Fuck. It. All.

  17

  Zara

  I hadn’t planned on inviting him back to my papa’s villa.

  Plenty of taxis were waiting outside the hotel and Nick still had his arm around my shoulders. I didn’t want to break free from his safe hold, to sit alone in the back of a car with a strange man driving me home who would simply see me as a drunk girl leaving a bar. And I know, Nick Gregory was a strange man, too. But Nick had witnessed the whole incident. Even if he wasn’t the only person to see what had happened, he was the only one who acted upon it.

  We talked the whole way, just like two regular people who had hooked up, and his cute accent and bad jokes made the ache in my cheek somehow ease.

  It felt natural to invite Nick in for a drink.

  He told me to find a first aid kit and helped to clean then fix a Band-Aid over my injury.

  Nobody was home. My papa had taken Marina with him on a business trip to Singapore, plus Sammy was away at school. I opened a bottle of wine, grabbed two glasses and took them into the garden where Nick was already making himself comfortable on the hammock.

  ‘I can’t believe you live in a house with a swimming pool,’ Nick said.

  ‘It’s hardly a swimming pool. More of a pond without fish.’

  ‘Beats the puddles in me garden at home. This is boss.’

  ‘Boss?’

  ‘Oh, I mean good, great, amazing. Liverpool slang.’

  We chatted for a while, small talk and more bad jokes. We came up with a feast of insults that would suit that vile bastard George. I was amazed at how much I could laugh about somebody who was so awful to me just hours ago. As I was about to get a second bottle of wine, Nick attempted to get out of the hammock.

  ‘Can we go inside, sweetheart?’ he asked, failing to sit up with any hint of elegance.

  ‘Struggling with the heat?’ I smiled.

  ‘Amateur.’

  He held out his hands for help and I was more than happy to assist. I’d kicked my high heels off and he was much taller beside me now as he came to standing. He lowered his head and cupped my face in his hands, then gave me a soft kiss on my sore cheek, below the Band-Aid.

  I pulled away.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

  But, what did Nick have to be sorry for? He’d been nothing short of wonderful since George had attacked me. Nobody could have made me feel more cared for. What’s more, he had cut his night out in Dubai short to take me home and make sure I was completely fine. Nick had treated me with respect, something I hadn’t experienced for the longest time.

  I tilted my head away, exposing my left cheek, the one that was untouched, unscarred.

  Nick bent over and kissed that side instead.

  ‘We should go inside,’ I said.

  ‘That would be more comfortable,’ he smiled, relieved.

  Over plenty more wine, we sat in the kitchen and talked until the sun started to make an appearance. We both agreed that Reese Witherspoon was the sweetest person on the planet. We didn’t understand why people chose to have a dog, but totally got the need for a cat. Nick took great interest in the brightly coloured sketches pinned onto the fridge of various animals surfing, and chuckled, asking where they came from. He wanted to get some for himself.

  ‘They’re mine,’ I admitted. ‘Well, I drew them. For my little brother, Sammy.’

  ‘Impressive,’ Nick said. ‘Talented as well as beautiful.’

  ‘He likes to surf.’

  Things became a bit silly and we danced on the white-tiled floor to a string of cheesy eighties songs blaring from my laptop. Nick grabbed a mop and displayed some bizarre moves that had me aching with laughter. We playfully touched each other’s fingers. I sat on his knee and cuddled into his chest. It didn’t occur to me that this time with Nick would ever come to an end.

  ‘I need to go,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t want you to go,’ I said, panic rising.

  ‘Me flight’s in a few hours, sweetheart.’

  Nick had built a wall around me, one that was made of silk pillows, twinkling with blue lights. He had wrapped me up and protected me from the pain, and now he was leaving. That wall was already beginning to fall down.

  ‘If it makes you feel better, I don’t want to go either,’ he said.

  ‘Then stay!’

  ‘I can’t. I’ve got to get back.’

  ‘Why? You told me you mainly work from home. Work from here.’

  I know I sounded desperate, but he was leaving, and without him, I was exposed. I had nothing to lose.

  ‘Fine. I’ll come to England,’ I said.

  ‘You’re welcome any time.’

  ‘I will. I’ll come … today! I can fly out today. Why the hell not?’

  ‘Yeah, why the hell not? But, sweetheart, you won’t see me in England.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Once I get back, I’ve got a lot of work to do and then I’m on a few more business trips. It’s a crazy time of year. Honestly, just relax. Let’s keep in touch.’

  ‘Yeah, I know what that means.’

  ‘We can Skype.’

  ‘Sure. Because that always ends well,’ I said, then bit my lip. ‘I’m being ridiculous.’

  Nick laughed and tickled me under the chin.

  ‘I get it,’ he said. ‘You were attacked tonight; you’re not okay. But you will be.’

  ‘What if I won’t? What if I see him again? What if I meet another guy and he …’ I couldn’t fight the tears and my loud sobs revealed that I was actually pretty drunk. We’d knocked back a lot of wine and I hadn’t eaten dinner. ‘I’ve just really enjoyed talking to you.’

  ‘So let’s keep talking. Technology is a magical thing.’

  ‘Ha. When it works.’

  ‘It will work. Please don’t cry. I’ve done such a good job of making you feel better and now I’m gonna leave and me last memory will be of your beautiful little face like this.’ Nick scrunched up his face and pretended to cry like a baby, which did make me chuckle. ‘Yes! Still got it. Actually, I’ve got an idea.’

  Nick picked up the mop, his former dancing partner, and grabbed a pair of broken sunglasses that happened to be lying in the empty fruit bowl on the table. I watched, confused, as Nick stood the mop upright. He slipped the sunglasses into the mop’s head, which was level with mine.

  ‘Ta-da!’ he sang.

  I swayed, attempted to steady myself.

  ‘This is Nick,’ he said, as if he were introducing a friend, an actual human being.

  ‘That’s a mop.’

  ‘No, when you take the sunnies off, it’s just a mop. But shh. The mop is very sensitive, he gets sad when he’s just a mop. Because when you put the sunnies on … ta-da! He becomes Nick. And anytime you wanna talk to Nick, he’s here for you. You can tell him anything, everything, nothing. He’ll listen to you.’

  ‘You�
��ve actually gone mad.’

  ‘Come on. Play along with me.’

  ‘Okay … erm. Hi Nick.’ I waved at the mop.

  ‘Hullo,’ Nick said, shaking the mop’s head. ‘And now, I’m gonna hide behind the fridge and you’re gonna hold the mop … Okay. Can you see me?’

  ‘No, you’re behind the fridge.’

  ‘Wrong. I’m with you.’

  ‘Oops. Silly me. I forgot you can magically transform into cleaning equipment.’

  ‘If you put a bow tie around Nick’s neck, he can take you to the ball.’

  ‘And on the stroke of midnight, I’m guessing Nick turns back into being just a mop again?’

  Nick came out of hiding and took me – and the mop – in his arms.

  ‘I know it’s not ideal,’ he said. ‘We met under strange circumstances, and although what happened to you tonight was horrible, you are possibly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. Ever. And you like Wham! And A-ha. And you live in a house with a swimming pool! But the reality is, I don’t live here. I have to go home. So, if you need me, call me. And if you can’t reach me, talk to our shaggy friend Nick here.’

  And that’s when our lips met and I let him kiss me.

  The desert sun rose high and fast, making it clear that last night was history: a memory. Its rays fired down onto the tired, dusty pathway that led from the villa to a taxi that would take Nick on his journey back to England. I watched him drive away, the sun burning my bare feet. At my side was the mop, tight within my grip. And I held on tighter. Tighter. For as soon as I let go of that mop, I’d be all alone again.

  ‘I’m ready,’ I say.

  Jim’s eyes are still closed.

  ‘So am I,’ he says.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘You to get out.’

  ‘But, you’ll wait here, with my things, yeah?’

  ‘Do I have a choice?’

  ‘I’m leaving the mop,’ I decide. ‘I can do this alone.’

  As expected, Jim opens his eyes, but only to shoot me a glance that confirms I sound completely crazy. I throw a quick smile his way, straighten my pinafore and my army jacket, smooth down the frizz of my hair one more time. I’m doing this.

  ‘Welcome to the Mad House,’ I mumble as I ring the doorbell.

  Its chime hangs in my ears. My gaze goes up towards the front bedroom where I had – without doubt – seen Nick looking down on me yesterday.

  Nick doesn’t live here.

  Footsteps sound from afar, and then closer, closer, coming down the stairs. The door opens. It’s him.

  ‘Nick!’

  ‘Oh, sweetheart,’ he sighs.

  My feet, so cold inside my suede sneakers, feel light. I bounce up onto my toes. Nick seems tired, older than he looked on my laptop screen, as if six years have passed rather than six months. Apology is written all over his face, his dimples present, but not from his regular smiles.

  ‘I told you I would come,’ I say.

  ‘I didn’t think you actually would, though,’ he says.

  ‘Why? I did everything else I promised. I went to my friend’s wedding, remember? Even though I heard that George might be there? I promised you I would go, you made me believe I’d be okay, and I am. I’m okay. Why did you think I wouldn’t come?’

  ‘You didn’t tell me you were coming yesterday.’

  ‘Because it was supposed to be a surprise. For your birthday!’

  ‘Come inside,’ Nick says, opening the door wider.

  I practically leap through the front porch and skip into the hallway. Falling into his arms, I expect Nick to catch me, to return the embrace. He takes hold of my hands instead, removes them from around his neck, squeezes them and lets go. I’ve never noticed a ring on his left hand before, and thank God, there isn’t one today either.

  I want to ask what’s wrong, but I’m afraid.

  ‘I’m in shock, sweetheart.’

  ‘Good shock or bad shock? Actually, don’t answer that.’

  Framed photographs of the two little girls are arranged across all of the walls: small cherubs sitting on furry white rugs; toothless smiles in green school uniforms. There isn’t a single picture of Nick to be seen. Certainly no wedding photograph; not within my view. Perhaps the little girls are his nieces and this isn’t his house. Except it is.

  I’m willing my instincts to be wrong. Please, please, be wrong. Let the children be his nieces, his cousins, his best friend’s kids, anything but his own. Please. I can feel tears waiting in my eyes.

  ‘Tell me I was mistaken, Nick. Tell me I jumped to conclusions yesterday. And if you tried to call me, I’m sorry, my Dubai number isn’t working here in the UK. I bought a new SIM, but—’

  ‘Zara, stop. How did you find out where I live?’

  ‘Easy. Your emails.’

  Nick’s face is so blank that I hardly recognise him. His regular laughter lines are invisible, his expressions dull instead of bright. I take my phone out of my army jacket pocket, show him the screenshot of his address printed in small letters below the company logo for Nicholas Consultancy. My eyes catch his and I never thought it possible to witness the blood drain from somebody’s face, but it does, and he gulps, as if he’s swallowing a hard, dry rock.

  ‘And I knew you worked from home,’ I say. ‘Is this your home?’

  He nods.

  ‘Do you want to show me around?’ I try, my voice quivering.

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘What?’

  Instead, Nick cups my face, pulling me close, and kisses me. His hands move to the back of my neck, down my back, and I throw my arms around his waist naturally, although more on instinct than with passion. Moving me towards the stairs, I fall back and Nick kneels, his hard crotch pushing against me. He kisses my neck, my chest, nuzzling his head across my stripy top.

  ‘Wait … Nick …’ I say. ‘Let’s talk.’

  ‘All we’ve done for six months is talk.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t just come here for sex!’

  ‘So why did you come?’

  His words stab me like an ice-cold dagger.

  ‘To start our life together,’ I say, instantly ashamed at how that sounds in the still air of this beige hallway. All this time, I thought I was seizing a wonderful opportunity, but in reality I was just taking a risky gamble. ‘You know how much I want to complete my degree and you told me that Liverpool has a great university—’

  ‘You say you want to do a lot of things, sweetheart. Last week you told me you wanted to climb Machu Picchu.’

  ‘And you said you wanted to climb it with me!’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I could’ve booked us a nice hotel in town, had the champagne on ice.’

  ‘I don’t want a nice hotel, I just want to be here, like we’d talked about.’

  He covers his face with his hands and murmurs okay over and over to himself.

  ‘You want to be here,’ he says, quietly, ‘and you are. So, please, let’s stop talking.’

  He moves closer and presses his lips against mine once more. Lifting up the skirt of my denim pinafore, he runs his hand inside my thighs. This should be a fabulous moment – it’s all I’ve spent many nights thinking about as I’ve tried to fall asleep over the past months. Except, in my mind, Nick wasn’t so rough.

  ‘Stop,’ I say, trying to push him away.

  ‘Come on …’ he mumbles, his face heavy against mine.

  ‘No.’

  Placing my hand on the banister, I haul myself up to standing. I fix my army jacket, which has fallen off my shoulders, and straighten my haphazard pinafore. But Nick’s closing in on me again, his scent wildly different from the one I remember. I don’t like how he’s breathing, panting.

  ‘Nick, stop. Please.’

  ‘Agh,’ he says, gasping from arousal, pushing me away. ‘Look what you’re doing to me.’

  This isn’t how it was supposed to be. But, then again, Nick has a point. We haven’t seen each other in the
flesh for six months, we’ve only spoken about what it would feel like to touch one another, and God! How we’ve spoken about that. For hours upon hours. We have been gentle to each other with words, and then gentle on our own bodies with our own fingertips, watching one another caress ourselves across a screen. Nick has seen every inch of my skin – not only have I opened my heart but also my legs to his view, my confidence soaring at how fucking sexy he’s made me feel from four thousand miles away. I’ve watched his cock grow hard in his hands, talked him into a climax, and listened as he brought me to multiple orgasms before the camera.

  ‘Tell me I got it wrong,’ I whisper, desperately.

  The innocent faces from the photographs on the walls are closing in on me, their sweet round eyes all too similar to Nick’s. Yesterday, I was convinced the girls looked like their mother, but now, the truth is too difficult to ignore. As much as I want him – of course, I want him, I love him – this doesn’t feel right at all.

  ‘You got it wrong,’ Nick says, coming close to me again.

  Surely I’m about to have everything I’ve ever wanted. A partner. Someone to brunch with, to watch movies with, to sleep with. What’s more, he isn’t looking at me down the lens of a camera: he’s right here, right now, needing me, wanting me. He begins to unzip his jeans, teasing me by pulling on my denim strap.

  I think of Jim, waiting for me in his car. What would he make of me lingering in this strange house, my long-distance lover trying to fuck me without as much as a proper hello? But, why am I thinking of him? Some guy with a BMW and a bad attitude?

  So I close my eyes tight. Lean in. I want everything to be okay, to be what I’ve been led to believe. I’m not feeling it, but I want to. The disappointment is overwhelming, so I try to ignore my gut, tell myself I’m tired. I move closer and allow my lips to meet Nick’s again.

  ‘Greg?’ says a calm, female voice.

  Nick pulls away from me and stumbles into the banister as he reaches for his low zip. The name, ‘Abi,’ trickles out of his already drooling mouth as my attention flies in the direction of the doorway where a woman stands smiling at me. We’ve met before. Yesterday. When she politely, but firmly, told me that Nick does not live here. She’s wearing a baby pink tracksuit today, her black bob still shiny.