Michelle Vernal Box Set

by Michelle Vernal

  Jennifer raised a weary smile. “You’re welcome.”

  “The next day, for the first time in my secondary school career, I couldn’t wait to get to school.”

  “Everyone was talking about her.” Melissa leaned towards Jennifer conspiratorially.

  “To this day, I don’t know what happened.” She shrugged. “Who knows—maybe he got a hard time from his friends because he dumped me—just like that, over by the cricket field.”

  “The bastard! No wonder you’ve always had self-esteem issues!” Jennifer was aghast. “I don’t know about John Taylor—he’d have looked like that Shane wot-sit from the Pogues by the time I got through with him. That’s if I’d known anything about it. Why didn’t you talk to me about it?”

  Rebecca didn’t get a chance to explain that she’d felt too embarrassed to admit to her older and popular sister that she had been given the heave-ho.

  Melissa, quick as flash, butted in. “Well, you didn’t know anything about it but she had me, Jennifer. To be honest, she’d never have gotten through it, either, if she hadn’t.” Leaning over, she patted Rebecca proprietarily on her shoulder.

  “I wouldn’t go that far.” Rebecca shrugged her off, feeling a bit annoyed that both her sister and best friend seemed to view her as incapable of fighting her own battles. “As I recall, you were in a snit with me for weeks afterwards because you fancied Jeremy’s best mate. Simon Freeman, remember? You reckoned there was no way he’d go near you after I got dumped so publicly. Do you know, Jen, I had to buy two tickets to the Police. Want to know what she said to me when I gave Melissa her ticket?”

  Jennifer nodded, even though she was well able to imagine.

  “She said, and I quote, ‘Alright, I’ll let you off the hook, but Sting’s mine.’”

  “Melissa! That’s awful.”

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

  “Oh well, Rebecca,” Jennifer said, “it sounds like he’s tied to a right old ball and chain these days.”

  “Yeah.” She sighed. “And I’m still single twenty years later.”

  “Twenty-one years, actually.”

  “Melissa!” the two sisters chorused, their eyes meeting in a mutual solidarity for the first time in a long time, and Melissa had the grace to disappear upstairs.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “SO HOW ARE YOU FEELING?” Rebecca asked, poking her head round the living room door later that afternoon to check up on her sister. She was still curled up on the couch, a throw rug pulled over her legs like an old lady in a rest home. It shocked Rebecca seeing Jennifer, who never sat still for longer than it took to knock a latte back, like this.

  “Not desperate like I was but not quite up to the Boston Marathon yet either.”

  Rebecca smiled. At least she still had her sense of humour; surely that was a good sign?

  “What about you though? How are you feeling? Melissa told me about your boss and the receptionist.”

  Trust Melissa to blab her private business, she thought, pursing her lips. “What did she tell you?”

  “Everything but it’s not Melissa’s fault. I made her fess up as to what was going on when I heard you stomping about last night.”

  “Sorry. It must be a bit close to home.”

  Jennifer waved her hand dismissively. “We’re not talking about Mark.”

  “No, you are right—we’re not—and Ciaran’s a complete shit, but then we weren’t a couple. So I don’t suppose I have any right to be so angry about his choice in women. I just thought—” Rebecca shook her head. “Oh, I don’t know what I thought.”

  “That perhaps something might happen between the two of you?”

  Rebecca decided she needed to tell someone. “That’s the thing, Jen. It already did, but afterwards we both acted like it never happened. I didn’t know how to go back and let him know I was interested after that. I suppose I was frightened of getting knocked back.” She shrugged. “There’s always been this feeling, though, that what was between us was unfinished except now he’s gone and made sure it’s bloody well finished.”

  “If you ask me, it sounds like you’ve had a wake-up call and that you are better off without him. Don’t waste your energy thinking about him,” Jennifer said in that no-nonsense manner of hers. “Maybe what you should consider, though, is how you are going to feel going back to work for him now after what happened.” She looked hard at her sister. They were both going to make some big decisions in the very near future.

  Rebecca shifted uncomfortably because going back to Ireland was something she’d been trying not to think about. Deciding not to go down that track, she put on her happy face. “I know, and you are probably right about my having had a wake-up call. Men, aye?” Realising what she’d said, her hand flew to her mouth. “Sorry, Jen! I wasn’t thinking. What a stupid thing to say. I’m such an idiot.”

  Jennifer raised a weary smile. “No, no, you’re not and believe me, I know exactly where you are coming from.”

  Leaning over, Rebecca patted her sister’s hand. “You’ll get there, sis. You know, when things look at their grimmest, I always try to imagine my life in a year’s time when the problems of today are all resolved and seem trivial in relation to the here and now.”

  “Is that what you are doing now—imagining yourself in a year’s time?”

  “Kind of.”

  “And what do you see?”

  She frowned. “That’s the thing—I just don’t know.”

  Not wanting her sister to delve any further, Rebecca changed the subject. “Do you feel up to a walk around the garden? Some fresh air might do you good.” Crumbs, now she even sounded like she was visiting her nan at the retirement home.

  “No thanks. I’m saving my energy for when the kids get home and don’t think that I don’t know what you are doing, Rebecca.”

  “What am I doing?” She was genuinely bewildered.

  “Changing the subject. That’s what you always do when you don’t want to face up to something. The thing is, sis, if you run away from your problems, they will catch up with you eventually and when they do, they’ll bite you hard in the bum.”

  Rebecca unconsciously clenched her bum-cheeks. “Charming.” She knew Jen was right, though, but she just wasn’t ready to go there yet. Her thoughts were still too jumbled. “I have another week to clear my head and think things through.”

  “Promise me you will think about where you are headed, though, Becs—properly.”

  “I promise.” Then, deciding it was Jen’s turn to be put on the spot, she asked, “So have you heard from Mark?”

  She licked her lips that felt suddenly dry. “He phoned my mobile this morning to say hi to Jack and Hannah.” She frowned. “Jack was quite chirpy on the phone to his father; it’s obviously just me he has the problem with.”

  “He’ll get over it, whatever it is. You just get yourself better before you think about tackling him. While we are on the subject of the kids, I’ll go outside and check on what they’re up to. You rest up.”

  “Becs?”

  “Yeah?” Rebecca turned in the doorway.

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?

  “Being here.”

  “It’s no biggie. That’s what family is for.”

  The children, thanks to the weather, were entertaining themselves quite nicely for once—Hannah in the sandpit and Jack playing with his remote control Moto-X out the back. Leaving them both to it, she came back inside to make herself a cup of tea just as Melissa—with her seemingly psychic ability to know when a cuppa was being made—appeared.

  “I forgot to mention it before.” She flopped into a chair. “Betty’s hanging out with Jennifer tonight and she suggested that seeing as it is Saturday and with us being two single girls, we should head out on the town. Are you up for it?”

  “I’m up for it,” Rebecca decided, knowing the change of scenery would do her good and help take her mind off things where a certain boss of hers who obviously couldn’t ke
ep it in his pants was concerned. Melissa didn’t hear her; she was too busy mentally dressing herself for the occasion.

  A few hours later, Rebecca was perched on a bar stool, sucking on the straw of what was left of her bourbon and lemonade. The pub was quintessentially Kiwi, she thought, casting her gaze over the stained, navy carpet flanked by tall, lean-to tables designed for drinking. It was fairly obvious it hadn’t had a magic makeover fairy wave her wand over it in the past thirty years. The two friends were propped up at opposite ends of one of these tables and, leaning across it to make herself heard, Rebecca told Melissa, “Betty’s got the magic touch with the kids. Did you see how they just took themselves off to bed when she told them to?”

  “Yeah, well, someone has to—Jennifer’s not exactly much help, is she? You wouldn’t even think they were her children the way she had everybody else running around after them.”

  “She’s not in a good space, Melissa; you know that. Leave her alone.”

  Melissa pulled a face and began scanning the room while Rebecca climbed down from the stool and went in search of more drinks.

  Up at the bar, Rebecca shouted out her order, “Two double bourbons and lemonade—could you make that diet, please? Thanks.”

  “I’ll get these,” a masculine voice informed the bartender while simultaneously handing over a fifty-dollar note. She swung round to see who her mysterious benefactor was and there, with his palm outstretched in readiness for his change, was the one and only Jeremy Thompson.

  “Oh no, there’s no need; it’s fine.” She snatched the fifty back out of the startled bartender’s hand and thrust it at Jeremy. He put both his hands up as though to ward her off.

  “No, no, please, Rebecca. I’d like to get them. Okay?”

  Against her better judgement, she nodded. She watched as he handed the note back to the bartender, who quickly stuffed it in the till, throwing a quick wink Rebecca’s way as he counted the change back to Jeremy. Wrapping her hands around the drinks, she muttered an insincere thanks, determined not to look into those deep brown eyes of his.

  As she took a step to walk away, she felt his hand on her arm gently stop her. Her gut reaction was to shake him off, but common sense told her that would be a waste of good bourbon. So instead, she found herself asking tightly, “Where’s your wife, Veronica, is it?”

  His hand shot back down to his side as though scalded. “It’s Vanessa and she’s back at the motel unit with the kids.”

  That confirms it then; he’s still an asshole, Rebecca decided. Taking his family away for the weekend and then leaving them to it while he blows the household budget buying other women drinks. “That’s a shame. Well, um, thanks again, Jeremy. It was good to see you again, but I’d better get back to Melissa.”

  She hotfooted it back to their table, not caring anymore that she was slopping the drinks in her haste. If Jeremy bloody Thompson thought standing a round of drinks gave him an automatic invitation to join them, he had another think coming.

  “What an asshole!” Melissa agreed as Rebecca finished telling her about her little rendezvous up at the bar. “Still, good on you I say, Becs, for cadging a free round. Cheers.”

  Rebecca refused to clink her glass, protesting, “But I didn’t. He insisted on paying. Probably his way of trying to ease his conscience. If he even had a conscience after what he did.”

  Two rounds later, they’d forgotten all about Jeremy Thompson as the lights dimmed and the motley band, calling themselves Cruise Control, sprang into life with a Doors cover.

  “Oh, I love this song!” Melissa exclaimed, hopping off her stool and proving her point by doing a little shimmy. “Come on, Becs!” She clapped her hands, singing along to the old “Roadhouse Blues” hit.

  Rebecca joined in singing along. Clutching their drinks, they jostled their way onto the dance floor. Tossing their handbags on top of one another, they began dancing their way around them to “Sweet Caroline.” It was followed by a scary version of Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here,” at the end of which Rebecca held up her hand and gasped, “Enough, enough! I need water, and these bloody shoes are killing me. I’m going to sit the next couple out.”

  Leaving Melissa, who had hooked on to a leering admirer, to it, she picked her way through the crowd to the bar and ordered water. The bartender winked at her again and this time she managed a small smile as, taking the glass from him, she cast her eyes around for an empty table. Making a beeline for one over by the back exit, she plonked herself down at it gratefully. Raising her legs one at a time, she rotated her ankles in semicircles in an attempt to get the circulation going in her ridiculously high-heeled feet again. If the stupid things didn’t make her legs look so much longer, she’d have whipped them off and tossed them out that exit behind her.

  “No gain without pain,” she muttered.

  “Pardon me?” Startled, her left leg fell back to the ground with a hefty thud as she looked up into a pair of familiar brown eyes.

  “Um, nothing. I was talking to myself.”

  She quickly adjusted herself into a more ladylike position. Jeremy looked on with a Cheshire cat grin. “I saw you on the dance floor; you looked like you were having a good time, but then you always were right into dancing, weren’t you?”

  “Ballet, yes, and what can I say? Girls just wanna have fun,” she replied, echoing one of her sister’s all-time favourite songs.

  He laughed at that, a bit too loudly, and she realised he was nervous. Ha! It had taken nigh on twenty years, but the shoe was finally on the other foot, so to speak. Without waiting for an invitation, he parked himself in the chair opposite hers and placed his pint glass down on the table.

  “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

  “Yeah, it has.”

  “Those were the days, aye, Rebecca? High school.” His eyes glazed over nostalgically, but Rebecca’s nimble skip down memory lane only conjured up lots of pimples and angst. Seeing his faraway expression, she fancied he was wondering what might have been between them. Unbeknown to her, he was reliving the moment he’d kicked the rugby ball cleanly into touch, winning the game and thus gaining himself high school hero status.

  “So,” he drawled, having dragged himself back to the present, “you said you live in Ireland now. What is it you do there?” He held up his hand. “No, hang on—let me guess.” He looked pensive for a moment as he rubbed his chin before slapping his knee and declaring, “I know—you’re a dancer in Riverdance!” He quite liked the mental picture of Rebecca in a short green dress that statement conjured up.

  “I did ballet, not Irish dancing, and I’m a legal secretary, actually. I work for a partner in a Dublin firm. Ciaran—he’s a hard shot.”

  Jeremy frowned. “I always thought you’d go on to be a dancer. That’s all you talked about at the disco that night. What happened there?”

  “I wasn’t good enough,” she said flatly.

  Sensing this topic was not going to win him any brownie points, he decided to move on. “I’m an electrician. I finished up sixth form and did an apprenticeship. I always planned on doing the big OE but I never quite made it. I met Vanessa and got married instead.”

  “No regrets though,” Rebecca stated firmly for him.

  He didn’t reply, asking instead, “So you’re still single?”

  “Yes, I haven’t been in one place long enough to meet Mr Right,” she tinkled lightly, mentally adding, and I don’t do married men.

  “Must be great to be able to go where you want, when you want. No chance of that with children.”

  “It is.” No way was she going to admit that it could also be bloody lonely.

  “You’re looking great.”

  His gaze was unnerving. “Um, thanks.”

  He raised his glass and took a deep slug of it before reaching across and touching her hand lightly. “I’m sorry about what happened. You know, back when we were at school.”

  Rebecca was grateful to the dark for hiding her flush. “Don’t
give it a second thought; I haven’t. It was just dumb teenage stuff.” She wondered if her nose had just grown.

  Jeremy kept his eyes downcast and, as he toyed with the soggy beermat in front of him, she felt herself soften. Maybe he wasn’t such a wanker after all?

  He raised his eyes to zap her with his soulful expression. It was the one that usually worked a treat with the thirty-something, single babes grateful for the attention, any attention. He whispered huskily, “Look, I’m not one to beat around the bush. I think we both know that there’s unfinished business between us. So, how about it? We can’t go back to mine obviously, so why don’t we go back to your place and pick up where we left off all those years ago?”

  Rebecca, who’d just taken a sip of her water, felt it go down the wrong pipe as she swallowed in shock. Jeremy was lucky it didn’t come right back out in a spray all over his arrogant smirk. Once she’d finished coughing, and the water had stopped running out of her nose, she wiped her tears away and took a good, hard look at Jeremy Thompson. He wasn’t that hunky fifth former who’d broken her heart anymore. The only vaguely recognisable feature from those days was his eyes. She dragged her own away from his and registered the onset of belly overhang and a hairline that had receded enough to leave a shiny forehead in its wake. Oh yes, his glory days were long gone. She could see the stark white band where his wedding ring should be. He was gripping his pint glass tightly in anticipation, and she felt a moment’s sadness for the loss of the adolescent he’d once been. Then, glaring at him, she pushed her chair back and stood up, knocking his pint glass accidentally on purpose into his lap.

  “Whoops, how clumsy of me. Still, that should cool the old boy down.” Stalking off like a proud lioness after a kill, Rebecca left Jeremy and his sodden crotch back in the past where they belonged.

  She felt so empowered! Wow, she should stand up for herself more often because revenge was oh so sweet. The ghosts of school disco past were finally laid to rest. Rebecca realised what a lucky escape she’d had and from that moment forth, she knew that the song “Blue Monday” would never give her goosebumps again.