by Alice Ross
*
It seemed to James that he’d spent every spare minute of the last few days preparing for what would, under normal circumstances, have been a relaxed and informal evening with friends. He’d even asked Brenda, his cleaner, to come in and do a couple of extra hours, much to her delight.
‘I think I’ll bring my Bissell and do the rugs,’ she said.
‘Bring whatever you like,’ replied James, who wouldn’t know a Bissell if one bit him on the bum.
Anyway, Brenda’s Bissell had obviously done the trick because, by Saturday, the house gleamed, leaving him free to focus on the food – and himself.
The curry bubbling away nicely, he showered and shaved then, for the first time in an age, stared at the contents of his wardrobe wondering what to wear.
This is ridiculous, he chided himself, yanking out yet another shirt and immediately tossing it back in again. One of the reasons he enjoyed spending time with Mandy and Eric was because it was all so relaxed. “Relaxed” though, was a million miles from where he’d been the last few days: he’d barely sat down. After five more minutes deliberating, he opted for his usual attire of jeans and rugby top – although one of his better ones. With some trepidation, he sneaked a look in the mirror. The reflection staring back was marginally better than last time he’d looked. At least he’d had his hair cut, even if it had been another week before he’d plucked up the courage to face Janine again following his unceremonious exit from the salon. He’d muttered a pathetic excuse about remembering a relative’s birthday and having to dash off to buy a card. He cringed as he recalled his behaviour. God alone knew what Alex must’ve thought. And God could gladly keep that knowledge to himself. He only hoped he’d redeemed some credibility when they’d had supper together.
Recalling that evening he was still astounded by his own audacity and by how relaxed he’d – eventually – felt in her company. Maybe that was because it’d been so spontaneous. Not like this evening when he’d wound himself up like a coiled spring. He should calm down. What, after all, was the worst that could happen? The doorbell rang. He jumped out of his skin.
A huge sigh of relief ensued upon discovering it was Mandy and Eric.
‘Wow, something smells good,’ said Eric, thrusting two bottles of Pinot Noir into his hands.
‘Alex not here yet?’ asked Mandy.
The doorbell rang again.
‘Oo. That must be her.’
James froze.
‘Don’t you think you’d better let her in?’
He nodded.
Taking the wine, Mandy manoeuvred him around to face the door. ‘Off you go then.’
James sucked in a deep breath. He could do this. Of course he could. Hadn’t he already spent an evening alone with her? This time, with Mandy and Eric here, it could only be easier.
He pulled open the door.
Alex stood on the step in black leggings and a pink-and-black striped halter-neck top. Her hair was loosely pinned up, blonde tendrils framing her face. She looked, he thought, absolutely-
‘Hi,’ she said. ‘Can I, um, come in?’
‘Oh, God. Sorry,’ he mumbled, shaking himself out of his trance and stepping aside. ‘Please. Come in.’
No sooner had she stepped inside than Mandy swept her away, insisting she must see the house.
‘Oh, it’s gorgeous,’ James heard her enthusing from the living room.
Seizing his chance, he headed to the kitchen where he poured two large glasses of wine - one for him and one for Eric. Ten seconds later, his was empty.
‘How are you at Trivial Pursuit, Alex?’ enquired Eric, when they were all in the kitchen.
‘Rubbish.’
‘Well, that makes four of us,’ giggled Mandy. ‘How about me and you against Eric and James later? Boys versus girls?’
‘You’ve no chance,’ warned Eric.
‘A fiver says we have,’ countered Mandy. ‘Especially as I happen to know that Alex has a first-class degree in history.’
Alex grimaced. ‘It was a few years ago now.’
‘Impressive nonetheless,’ said Eric. ‘However, I think it only fair to warn you that James and I are not easily intimidated by such academic achievements. Anyway, enough of Trivial Pursuit for now. I’m starving. That curry ready yet?’
Much to James’ relief, the curry went down a storm, along with several poppadoms, a couple of naan breads and several bottles of Pinot Noir.
‘Right. Time for Trivial Pursuit,’ announced Eric, when they’d finished eating. ‘And I warn you, girls, we take no prisoners.’
They’d been playing for over an hour when Eric’s mobile beeped.
‘Bummer,’ he exclaimed reading the text. ‘We’re needed back at the farm, Mand. Hilda the cow is on the wander - again.’
Mandy groaned. ‘Oh, no. She picks her moments that cow. Typical when Alex and I were well and truly hammering you. I vote we carry the score over to next time.’
‘Not sure that’s allowed,’ mused Eric, thrusting to his feet. ‘I think we’ll have to refer to the rule book on that one.’
‘Well, I vote that whoever is winning can make up the rules,’ giggled Mandy. ‘Really sorry we have to go, though, James. It’s been a great night. The curry was superb – your best yet, I’d say.’
James grinned. ‘Thanks. Pleased you enjoyed it. It’s a real shame you’re going, though. Eric and I were just warming up. Another half an hour and I think you might have found the positions reversed.’
‘Dream on,’ chuckled Mandy, rising to her feet. ‘Anyway, as Hilda has stopped play, we’ll just have to have a re-match.’
‘You’re on.’
Alex came to the door with James to see the pair off. After much hugging and kissing, followed by a great deal of waving, Mandy and Eric scuttled down the street.
‘Well,’ she sighed, as he closed the door. ‘I guess I’d better be going as well.’
His spirits plummeted. ‘You don’t have to.’
She looked at him for a few seconds before suggesting, ‘How about I help you clear up and then I’ll go?’
‘Great idea,’ he said, beaming at her.
‘I meant to ask,’ she said, as she loaded the dishwasher. ‘Who took the photographs on the landing?’
James grimaced. ‘I did. Last year. With my new camera that hasn’t been out the box since. Bit of a passing phase, I’m afraid, but I really enjoyed it while it lasted.’
‘They’re good. I’m impressed.’
‘Now why don’t I believe that?’ he chuckled, wiping down a bench. ‘They’re rubbish but I like them. Plus it was cheaper than buying a load of pictures. Now, can I get you another drink? Or a coffee?’
‘No thanks.’ She closed the dishwasher door. ‘I think I’ll head off, if you don’t mind. I’m a bit knackered.’
Disappointment washed over him. ‘Of course, I don’t mind,’ he lied. ‘But let me walk you home.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘There’s no need.’
‘I know. But I’d like to. Besides, I could do with the fresh air.’
Two sapphire eyes regarded him for what seemed like an eternity before she said, ‘Okay. I’ll just grab my bag.’
Unlike their walk to the surgery a few evenings before, this time there was no recounting of humorous tales, or any easy banter. The atmosphere was almost as tense as James, who’d become acutely aware of the faint smell of her perfume. Alex, conversely, hardly seemed to register his presence, so absorbed did she appear to be in her own thoughts.
Finally, they reached her cottage.
She turned to him. ‘Thanks for a lovely night. I had a great time.’
James’ insides melted as her startling blue gaze fused with his. ‘Me too.’
‘Right then.’
‘Right.’
‘I’d better be going in.’
‘Of course.’
Several seconds past with them staring at one another. Before James lowered his head and gently brushed his lips against
hers.
A second later, he’d turned on his heel and was haring down the street.
Chapter 12
It occurred to Matt over the next few days that he and Francesca had never actually spent much time together. And the circumstances forcing this current proximity were not helping matters. She’d been horrified when he’d informed her of his jobless situation.
‘What are you going to do?’ she demanded.
Matt didn’t have a clue. Pride hadn’t allowed him to phone Geoff and explain about Julia Hindmarch. He’d probably just come out of it looking even more of a prat and, if word spread round the office, any scrap of credibility he might have left – which, he conceded, was doubtful - would be well and truly blown out of the water.
He shrugged. ‘Take a bit of time out before the wedding, then regroup.’
‘Regroup? What the hell does that mean?’
Matt didn’t know. He just thought it sounded good. He only knew that, in the last week, three scarily large credit card bills had arrived in the post and between them they didn’t have the funds to cover the minimum payments.
‘Well obviously I’ll have to find another job,’ had been his retort. ‘Although I don’t see you doing anything to help. Haven’t you found another agent yet?’
She glared at him through narrowed eyes. ‘How can you be so heartless? You know I have to lose at least a stone before I can approach another agent.’
Matt scratched his head. There wasn’t a scrap of spare flesh on her body. ‘A stone? Don’t you think you’re being a bit OTT? Why don’t you approach them now and see what they say?’
‘Don’t dump all the pressure on me. You’re the man. You’re supposed to be the bloody provider.’
‘And you’re the woman and you’re supposed to have bloody babies. If only you’d have a bloody baby, then we could see some way out of this mess. One million quid would be winging its way to us. One million quid and all you have to do is have a kid.’
She ground her teeth. ‘Not that will business again. If you bring that up one more time, I’ll-’
But before he could discover what she’d do, her mobile had rung. In a flash she’d snatched it up and whisked out of the room.
*
Following his “kiss” with Alex – although so fleeting had it been he wasn’t even sure it warranted the title - James was in what could only be described as a state of turmoil. He couldn’t sleep or eat. And he barely functioned at work.
‘You okay?’ Mandy asked.
‘Fine,’ he snapped back.
But fine was as far away from how he felt as Bratislava was from Brixton. How could he have been so weak as to let his defences slip? Okay, so he found Alex attractive. But that didn’t mean he had to do anything about it. He’d found plenty of women attractive since Olivia but he’d never been tempted like that before. Not that Alex had done anything to tempt him. Far from it. She’d looked as surprised as him when he’d “kissed” her. And she certainly hadn’t reciprocated - which made the whole thing worse. So, what was he supposed to do now? He’d considered talking to her about it. But what would he say? The very idea of broaching the subject, if indeed she was still speaking to him, caused his guts to churn. He’d also considered discussing it with Mandy but somehow it didn’t seem appropriate. He only wished Great Aunt Milly was still around. But she wasn’t. And neither was Olivia. And that was the crux of the whole bloody problem.
*
Anya von Hutterhausen stared at the brown envelope adorned with typed address label, propped up on her mantelpiece. Excitement skittered down her spine. For all its innocuous exterior, the envelope harboured contents which would cause utter chaos. And the power to cause such disruption was all hers. A fact she found more potent than any aphrodisiac. Thank God it was Thursday. She glanced at the clock. Only another hour and Jakov would be here. And what an evening she had planned for him.
She hadn’t mentioned anything to Jakov about seeing him in town with Imogen. And he hadn’t broached the matter either. She assumed he hadn’t seen her. Not that she cared if he had. It made no difference to their arrangement what he did with Imogen. For Anya, Jakov merely served a purpose. Other than that, he meant nothing to her at all.
*
‘Oh, darling, you don’t look at all well.’
James sighed. The last thing he needed at the moment was his parents fussing. He really wasn’t in the mood for their visit but, having received the call two nights before, his mother had sounded so excited that he’d had neither the heart nor the imagination to try and dissuade them.
‘Are you sure you’re eating properly?’
‘Yes, Mum.’
Marjorie Pinkerton eyed him suspiciously. ‘I don’t think he is, Bernard. He looks terribly thin.’
James’ father rolled his eyes. ‘He looks fine. Now do stop fussing. He’s a grown man.’
‘Grown man or not, he’s still my son and he needs feeding up. Get in the car, James. We’re taking you to the pub for dinner.’
‘I’m sorry, James,’ explained Enid, the barmaid, when they arrived at the pub ten minutes later. ‘The Bowls Club have a visiting party so you’ll have to wait a while for a table. Would you like a drink in the meantime?’
‘I certainly would. I’ll have a pint of Guinness, please. What would you like, Mum?’
‘Hmm. I don’t normally partake, but I’ll have a Cinzano and lemonade. With two ice cubes and a slice of lemon, please. And your father will have a lager and lime.’
The drinks duly served, they wandered into the beer garden, just as packed as the pub. James was about to suggest they finish their drinks and pick up some chips to take back to the house when his mother said, ‘Oh, look. Isn’t that Mandy over there?’
Shielding his eyes against the sun he discovered it was indeed Mandy. And with her was … Alex Corr.
His heart plummeted. He’d tried so hard to avoid her since the “kiss”, keeping away from the village store and even driving ten miles to another post office yesterday. But now … here she was. And if he didn’t act quickly he had a horrible feeling he might be forced into yet another compromising position. Before he could do anything though, his mother had waltzed over to the girls. As they all turned to look at him and his gaze fused with Alex’s, his heart skipped a beat.
‘Mandy and Alex have invited us to join them,’ his mother called over. ‘If we order now, we can all eat together.’
Great. Fan-bloody-tastic. Thanks a lot, Mum.
His father scurrying back to the bar to order their food, James weighed up his options. What options? He didn’t have any. He had to join them at the table. He forced his legs to move forward, dread increasing with every step, and almost shooting off the scale when he witnessed his mother squeezing onto the bench alongside Mandy, meaning he’d have to sit right next to Alex. How he was going to handle this, he had no idea. Not that Alex seemed remotely interested in his arrival. She was laughing and chatting with his mother, who’d evidently wasted no time introducing herself. He clambered over the bench, accidentally bumping his leg against hers, clad in the same denim shorts she’d worn the evening they’d had supper together.
‘Sorry,’ he muttered.
She ignored him.
He took a large slug of Guinness, followed swiftly by another.
The conversation, for some unfathomable reason, had turned to lipstick - a subject to which he could contribute nothing. He hoped things might improve with the arrival of his father.
They didn’t.
Bernard squeezed onto the bench next to him, forcing him to nudge up against Alex. He couldn’t move. Not only because he was frozen with embarrassment, but because he couldn’t, quite literally, move, or at least not without coming into contact with one of Alex’s bare limbs.
‘So, how are the wedding plans going, Mandy?’ his mother asked, the subject of lipstick evidently exhausted.
‘Great, thanks, Mrs P. Thankfully, we’re just having a small affair.’
&
nbsp; ‘Very sensible. It’s a sin the money people waste on weddings these days. I dread to think how much Matt and Francesca are spending. Such expensive tastes the two of them. Still, if that’s what they want and they can afford it, I suppose we should let them get on with it. Which we have. But what about you, Alex? Is there a young man in your life?’
James cringed. Of all the inappropriate-
‘No, Mrs Pinkerton. There isn’t.’
Marjorie tutted. ‘What a shame, a lovely girl like you. You youngsters. You’re all so independent these days. We do wish James could meet a nice girl, don’t we, Bernard? But he doesn’t seem the least bit-’
‘Mum!’
Just then the food arrived. James was glad of the distraction. Not that he could face eating a thing. Nor indeed, could move to eat a thing. He was consumed by a mixture of embarrassment and an overwhelming desire to be anywhere else. His arm contorted at a strange angle to his chest, he reached for the condiments - at exactly the same moment as Alex. Their hands collided.
‘Sorry,’ he muttered, noting the withering look she threw him.
Could the evening possibly get any worse?
It could.
‘Why aren’t you eating your meal?’ asked his mother a few minutes later.
‘I’m not very hungry.’
She eyed him through narrowed slits. ‘Between us girls,’ she began, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial tone. ‘I’m worried about him. Don’t you think he’s looking a little peaky, Alex?’
As if to prove his mother wrong, a surge of colour flooded James’ cheeks. He slanted a look at Alex and was mildly mollified to notice a slight flush settling over her face.
‘I, er, really can’t say I’ve noticed, Mrs Pinkerton,’ she muttered.