‘OK whatever, so I had someone do it for me, but I paid. Anyway come on, sit, eat and shut up. Rachel was telling me about some model girl that OD’d on drugs.’ He pushed Ash down on to a high-backed glass chair in the dining room.
‘Hi, Rach,’ she said, straightening her chair. ‘So who are we talking about?’
‘One of Jules’s models—’
‘So anyway, tell me who did it,’ Leon cut Rachel off.
‘With the candlestick in the drawing room,’ Ash smiled sarcastically.
‘Funny Ash—for you anyway.’ Leon returned the same smile.
‘So . . .’ Rachel intervened, ‘I called Jules today to see what time her flight was due in etcetera, etcetera, and she was at the hospital. She told me she had just finished some big advertising campaign for something to do with the magazine and had gone to an after party and one of her models had put too much white stuff up her nose and collapsed in the club,’ Rachel took a breath.
‘No way that happened.’ Ash looked generally concerned.
‘Did she die?’
‘Leon!’
‘What, you asked what happened. I want to know if she died or not.’ He rolled his eyes and turned to Rachel for the answer.
‘Don’t know. Jules had to go. Some nurse told her to get off the phone. Well, that’s what Jules said as I can’t understand Spanish. Anyway she said she would call me when she’s landed.’ Rachel took a sip of wine, looking back at Leon.
‘Rach, that is as big an anticlimax as the fifty-six-year-old woman I shagged last week after discovering her plastic surgery was face only.’
‘Leon, you’re a sick man,’ Rachel laughed.
Rachel had grown up with Ash, and gone to the same independent, prestigious private school, but left with better grades and went on to pursue a career in London for a leading retail company. She was now a buyer in children’s clothing for the well-known high street brand Hop Scotch. Ironically Rachel was probably the least maternal woman on earth, with no serious relationships and no desire to find one either.
‘So did she tell you anything else—any big gossip? I’m talking tabloid press gossip,’ Leon continued.
‘Nope, I don’t think gossip was big in her mind at that point somehow, do you?’
‘Guess not.’ Leon dropped his shoulders.
They sat eating the carefully prepared Italian pasta with plum tomatoes and mozzarella then moved into the lounge so the caterer could clear the plates, then they all binged out with a tub of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream, watching the music channel and talking. After the ice cream was gone and it had been washed down with two bottles of red wine followed by two of white, they decided to call it a night and rang for a cab. Air kisses were exchanged at the front door and Ash shared a cab with Rachel, who had to be helped in as she wobbled off balance, sending Leon into fits of laughter.
‘Leon, you’re not helping here.’
‘Sorry Ash.’ Leon rushed to help Ash put Rachel into the front seat and fasten her seatbelt.
‘You’re both stinking drunks,’ Ash laughed, ‘you know that, don’t you.’
Ash raised herself to kiss him on the cheek. ‘Thanks for having us over.’
‘Any time, babe—and maybe if you ate less ice cream and drank more, you too could get strapped into a cab drunk.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind Leon.’
* * *
By the time Ash had closed her front door it was one in the morning. She was content that she had had another good night with friends, doing what she wanted to do as a single woman, making her own happiness, and also still getting to bed at a decent hour which she usually tried to do. Ash signed as she thought about her brief encounter with Lee, she hadn’t bothered to bring it up at diner and would try to forget it happened. She had also kept her date to herself as well. It would keep she thought as a smile brightened her face.
She pulled back the duvet and climbed into bed, sliding down into the cool, crisp sheets. Although Ash was only twenty-six and now single, all-night parties and staying out till the early hours didn’t appeal to her. She liked to have fun but didn’t like to have to endure the next morning’s hangover. That didn’t mean that Ash never over-indulged with alcohol—just not all the time like the others tended to do.
Chapter 2
‘Ouch!’ Dave gritted his teeth in pain.
‘What d’you do?’ shouted Peter from his room up the hall.
‘Stubbed toe,’ was all Dave could say through the pain as he clutched his foot.
Dave had been living with his twin brother Peter ever since their parents had split up three months after their eighteenth birthday. Dave and Peter decided that rather than choose who to live with, it would be kinder to move out with each other. They had the same view of life and by the time they were twenty they had gone into business together as window glazers. It was always clear from a young age that Dave had the brains and Peter the gift of the gab. Their parents still both lived in Cornwall in the same village and had learnt to become friends. Both had married again but never had any more children.
Dave and Peter now lived south of the river in Wandsworth, overlooking the Common. They had moved to London at twenty-one when Dave found a yard for their business. They both jumped at the chance to set up in London and turned profit within the first year. They had bought their first flat by the age of twenty-three and sold it for a profit three years later in order to buy another larger flat somewhat closer to the yard.
They now owned a top-floor three-bedroomed flat in an old Victorian converted house, with sweeping views of the common but unfortunately the mortgage was proving to be a strain, so they were now on the lookout for a flatmate to rent the third bedroom to help ease the pressure. Peter had put forward the idea of a female roomy on the pretext that she could cook, drink beer and like football; also she would have to be reasonably hot. Obviously both brothers were in favour—Peter more so than Dave, who suspected that women like that did not actually exist.
One week had passed and Dave had spoken to Ash every day on the phone since they had met. It was as if he couldn’t get enough of her; their conversations would last for hours; sometimes they would just talk total nonsense and she would laugh at all his sarcastic jokes that his brother teased him over for being too dry. But Ash got them; she had the same thought process as he did and so found his comments funny. Dave found her a breath of fresh air—she did not play games, there was no worrying about calling her too much, or worrying that he came across too keen and if he sent her a text she would reply straight back, none of this twenty minute rule some people did so that the other person might think they were busy or not being overly keen. Not Ash, she was different.
Peter came down the hall to help Dave get to his feet. He was still holding his toe in pain and rocking like a mental patient.
‘So where are you taking her?’ Peter heaved his brother to his feet as Dave hobbled into the lounge then dropped on to the sofa, ‘And don’t make her scream too loud later, I’ve got Sasha over tonight and she’s a bit prudish.’
‘Sasha hey, things must be bad on the lady front if you have to resort to lame Jane.’
‘She ain’t that bad. Anyway a shag’s a shag. So where are you going?’
‘Few ideas but ain’t sure yet,’ Dave sat back, thinking some more about where to take Ash. He liked this girl. She was sexy, elegant and confident and made him laugh—which in fairness was not the easiest thing to do: as Dave was the first to admit, he could be quite serious at times unless he was doing the joking.
Since they had met he had lain in bed most nights thinking of her—what she would be like to kiss; would she be wild in bed or at worst frigid? This behaviour on Dave’s part was quite out of character: after all she was just a nurse he had met for a few hours on a job—and not the first either. Why was he so bothered this time?
* * *
Ash was dressed with just her hair left to do. She sat in front of her dresser, pinning bits of her long dark ha
ir into an elegant style that would show off her pale slender neck. Just as she had finished tying back the last piece of hair there was a knock at the door. Hoping Dave was not this early, she rushed to answer it.
Standing there was Mr Schnitzer, one of her neighbours who held a box out in front of him. He was a nice man, with a thick German accent in his late fifties who kept himself to himself. They rarely crossed paths but if they did there was just a quick exchange of pleasantries, then on with their separate lives. Mr Schnitzer didn’t seem to have many visitors—just a young man whom Ash assumed to be his son. He also didn’t go out much so Ash assumed that he either worked from home or didn’t work at all. No lady friends ever visited—just this young man who looked like a younger Mr Schnitzer. Ash always felt sad that he didn’t have love in his life; he seemed like such a nice man.
‘Hello, Mr Schnitzer,’ she said looking at the box.
‘Evening, Ashleigh. Zis came for you today ven you vere out.’ He handed her the box.
‘Thank you.’
‘You’re velcome. Have a lovely evening.’ Mr Schnitzer’s mouth curled into a stiff smile as he looked at her standing there so beautiful, and then retreated down the steps.
She closed the door behind her, placing the box on the hallway table. Stepping back, she stared at it with folded arms. Lee used to send her gifts in the post throughout their relationship. She pondered for a while then started to open the parcel. She quickly tore back the brown paper to reveal a cream-coloured box with black writing on it.
‘Links of London,’ she read out loud.
Opening the box she peered in, removing something contained in a black velvet dust bag; she reached inside, sliding out a beautiful silver picture frame. It held a black and white photo of Ash with her arm around Lee’s dog Max in the park.
Ash smiled. She loved that picture—she had always wanted to have it blown up and framed. She missed Max. A friendly bouncy blonde Labrador that wouldn’t leave her side, and cried each time she left the house.
Poor thing, she thought. How he must have missed me.
Ash went into the living room to place the picture on top of the fireplace, stepping back to reminisce about that summer’s day in the park which had only been last year. She sighed, putting it to the back of her mind and not wanting to spoil her night out with a new hunky guy, but still somewhat annoyed at Lee. He was clearly not going to give up without a fight.
Not too long after, Dave pulled up in a taxi outside Ash’s flat. He asked the driver to wait, took a deep breath and walked up the steps to the front door.
Ash jumped at the sound of the doorbell. By the time she got to the door Max and Lee had been forgotten. Dave was speechless for the first few seconds when she opened the door—Ash had that effect on most men. She had such beauty. He admired her long, slender, bare legs as she rushed back to pick up her handbag from the living room. She locked the front door then Dave gestured for her to walk down the steps before him.
The air was heavy and close, no breeze blowing to cool their clammy skin. Dave opened the car door for Ash to slide in. She looked up at him and he looked back at her for a moment with a stare that made her nervous. Smiling, he shut the door.
On the way to the restaurant Dave sat close to her and held her hand on his lap. She could feel his body warmth through his smooth trousers on the back of her hand. They drove through London to Richmond where the cab dropped them at a French restaurant opposite the river.
The evening was just perfect. They had so much in common; even before the wine went to their heads they couldn’t stop flirting. Ash couldn’t take her eyes off him and felt quick quivers every time he touched her, even small gestures like putting his hands on her waist to guide her to the table made her feel powerless with desire. Ash had frogs’ legs on Dave’s recommendation as the whole menu was written in French and she wanted to try something new. To her pleasant surprise Dave could read everything on the menu and order in what seemed a perfect accent. The waiter left them and Dave explained to Ash that he had learned French at school and was not fluent, just well practised at reading the menu he held as he and his brother enjoyed the food and dined at the restaurant regularly.
‘So you’re a fraud then. And I thought I may have found a nice Frenchman,’ she joked.
‘Oui, oui, mademoiselle.’
The waiter returned with a bottle of champagne and popped the cork into a towel. Dave asked Ash about her job and sat listening intently as she explained the exam process and the different areas of dentistry she had worked in. Ash had studied for two years while working for a small practice in the Downton, near Salisbury, Wiltshire where she had grown up with her parents and sister. She had left her private school with no real direction. Ash’s mother had told her of a vacancy in the dental surgery at the bottom of the lane and practically demanded that she apply—so she did, for a quiet life, and got the job.
She quickly learnt that there was a clear career path from a dental nurse to dental hygienist or even dentist if she wanted to go that far and so decided to pursue a career in dentistry. After two years of studying, Ash passed her exams then took a job in London where she lived with her oldest childhood friend Rachel, who too had followed a career to the big city. Dave didn’t divulge a huge amount about his childhood but from the fragments he let slip he seemed well loved and his academic schooling had actually been more successful than hers.
‘Isn’t it funny that I went to private school and left with only four decent grades and you went to a state school and left with ten A to B grades. My mum nearly killed me when she saw my grades.’
Ash cringed at the memory. ‘I wish in hindsight I had realised how lucky I was and had tried harder at school.’
‘Why didn’t you?’
‘Too busy having fun, I suppose. My mum and dad are fairly well off and I suppose I didn’t appreciate the value of money at the time.’
‘And now?’
‘Well, now I have to. My family live in America and I’m in England on my own. My dad helps me out with money a lot, but I tell him not to as I’m more than capable of supporting myself now.’
Dave was about to ask Ash why she hadn’t gone to America with them, when he was interrupted by the arrival of the waiter who placed a plate of what looked like tiny chicken wings down in front of her. Ash wondered if the frogs’ legs had been such a good choice after all. He tried to broach the subject of Ash’s family again but received the distinct impression that she didn’t want to talk about them and so moved on to lighter topics of conversation.
After dinner they took a walk along the river, talking about anything and everything, intoxicated with passion accelerated by copious glasses of champagne. They stood looking out at the water holding hands for a while. Slowly Dave moved in front of Ash then touched her face with the tips of his fingers.
‘I think you’re amazing, Ash,’ he said, looking her up and down in a way that made her feel vulnerable.
Ash smiled, putting her hands around his waist. He bent slightly to kiss her then moved in closer so that her breasts were pressed against his chest. She was lost as if she had stepped into a dream, shivering at the way his hand felt against her face, his tongue slipped around inside her mouth, time seemed to slow and the sound of her heart vibrated her body.
* * *
They arrived back at Ash’s flat at 1.00 am. Dave walked her up to her front door, half expecting an invite inside but too polite to make any advances unless Ash gave him a clear indication to do so.
‘I had a lovely night—thank you,’ she said, putting her arms around his body again.
‘So did I, Ash, I hope you will let me take you out again?’
‘Of course,’ she leaned up to kiss him, trying to suppress an excited smile, but she chose not to offer him a nightcap—not this time anyway. She was pleased that he did not ask to come in: a true gent and a shockingly sexy one at that, she thought, shutting the front door.
She lay in bed that night, head full
of conflicting emotions—excitement, worry, desire, fear, happiness all churning her up. She wriggled around beneath the sheets then kicked them off, lying exposed in her silk nightie, staring at the glow of the city emanating through the thin white curtains. She struggled with her feelings for Lee and anxiety twisted inside her as she remembered the picture and frame he had sent; surely he would now pay her another visit.
She pulled her thoughts back to the evening she had just had and smiled. Dave could not have given her a more perfect night. She admired his ambition for life and his obvious successes in business. From their conversation, it was clear to Ash that he was close to his brother but by the sound of things he’d probably had to be the responsible one too. Eventually, taking a hold over her thoughts, she slipped off into a deep, dreamy sleep.
* * *
Ash awoke the next morning on top of the world and pulled back the blinds in the living room then sat down to drink her tea curled up on the sofa just as the phone rang. It was Rachel.
‘Is he still there?’
‘No, I didn’t offer and he didn’t ask.’
‘Argh… is that a good sign?’ Rachel said inquisitively.
‘Yes. I think it is.’
‘Let’s meet up and you can tell all.’
‘OK lunch at the Harp at one pm? Ring the others.’
Ash sat back down and started watching TV for a while.
A while later there was a knock at the door. Still in her nightie Ash opened the door and to her horror, Lee was standing there in the brilliant sunshine holding a dozen red roses in one hand and one single white rose in his other hand. He extended the single white rose towards Ash and tilted his head like a Labrador.
‘Lee, what are you doing? This is exactly why I didn’t want you to know where I lived.’
What was Samantha thinking when she told him where I lived? she thought.
She had known Samantha was a troublemaker from the first day she started work at the dental practice nearly two years ago. Not to put too fine a point on it, Samantha was a callous bitch.
Gut Feeling Page 2