It’s Now or Never

by Carole Matthews

  ‘Good enough to eat?’ I tease.

  He laughs at that, and I realise that I haven’t heard the sound of my husband’s laughter for some time – and I also realise that it’s all my fault. How bad does that make me feel?

  ‘Help yourself. You can do a consumer road-test for me.’ I hand him a chocolate chip muffin. ‘I’m making sandwiches and cakes to sell to my colleagues – Chelsea’s idea.’

  ‘I might have guessed,’ Greg says.

  I find myself gripping the sides of my bowl more tightly. ‘I don’t want to argue about this.’

  ‘Me neither.’

  I notice that my husband looks very miserable. I’d like to put my arms round him and give him a hug, but we’re too far apart for that.

  ‘It wasn’t meant as a criticism, just an observation,’ Greg says. Then, as he tries the cake, he tentatively asks, ‘What happened to the car wash?’

  ‘I dropped that idea,’ I shrug. ‘It was too difficult on crutches.’ Frankly, the excuse of my broken foot gives us both an out, and my husband is wise enough not to say anything further.

  He nods at the muffin in his hand. ‘This is wonderful.’

  ‘Thanks. I’m a bit out of practice. You think I’ll sell out?’

  Greg nods, his mouth full. ‘I’d make another batch.’

  ‘Perhaps I will.’

  My husband sighs at me. ‘You’re still intent on going to Peru?’

  ‘Of course.’ I fail to meet his eyes. ‘If I can raise enough money.’

  ‘I wish you wouldn’t go.’

  ‘And I wish you’d be happy for me.’ I tip another load of flour into my mixing bowl and splash in some milk. ‘Better still, I wish you’d come with me.’

  ‘I’m worried about you,’ Greg says. ‘What if your foot isn’t right? Who’ll look after you?’

  He regards me with an expression that might or might not be loaded.

  ‘I’ll have to look after myself,’ I say firmly. ‘I know that you’re against this and that it’s going to cost a fortune and I’m not fit enough. But I want to get there by hook or by crook.’

  My husband sighs again. He’s doing a lot of it recently. ‘Then I should probably help you.’ We exchange a wary glance. Is this what’s called a truce? Greg risks a smile. ‘Give me that mixing bowl.’

  Is this mixing bowl our equivalent of a white flag? In case it is, I release my death grip and hand it to Greg. ‘Thank you,’ I say.

  As my husband stirs the mixture thoughtfully, my heart softens towards him. He’s not a bad man. He could be a lot worse. What if I had a husband like Jude? Greg has always been steady, faithful and I could trust him with my life. It’s so easy to overlook these qualities when you live with them every day.

  ‘This doesn’t mean I approve,’ Greg goes on. ‘Or even that I understand. But it means that I will support you.’

  I come and wrap my arms round his waist. He puts down the bowl and I lay my head on his chest. And we don’t speak, because we don’t need to.

  Chapter 83

  An hour later and Lauren was still lying in bed, mind whirling. She wanted to phone Zak but she couldn’t. It was like an itch prickling at her skin. He’d know what to say, what to do.

  Then she heard a knock at the door and she let out a groan. It couldn’t be Jude, surely. He’d not long gone and there was very little left to say between them.

  A voice shouted out her name.

  It wasn’t Jude. It was Zak Reynolds, who must have added mindreading to his seemingly endless list of skills.

  ‘Lauren,’ he shouted as he rapped again. ‘Let me in. I’m going to camp on your doorstep until you open up.’

  Groaning once more, Lauren dragged herself out of bed and went to the door. She leaned against it. Not a lot of imagination was required to picture Zak leaning on the other side – his untamed hair, his winning boyish smile.

  ‘Lauren!’ Zak shouted.

  ‘Ssh,’ she said. ‘I’m here. Be quiet or you’ll annoy the neighbours.’

  ‘She lives!’ Zak whispered back through the door.

  It was a close-run thing, Lauren thought. ‘I can’t open the door,’ she said, ‘because I’m a complete mess.’

  ‘I like a skanky bird,’ Zak assured her. ‘I’m Amy Winehouse’s biggest fan, and you can’t get much skankier than that.’

  ‘I’m very skanky,’ she told him. ‘But you’ve been warned.’ Then she opened the door.

  ‘Whoa,’ Zak said as he came into her flat. ‘You’re right. On the skanky scale you’re way up there.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Fortunately, I come bearing lovely things to remedy that.’ Lauren had already noticed the box of groceries in his hands. ‘When did you last eat?’ He clocked the half-empty bottle of vodka on the table. ‘I bet there are plenty more where that came from.’

  ‘One or two,’ she admitted.

  ‘Go and have a shower,’ Zak instructed. ‘Your hair smells like chip fat.’

  Lauren laughed at that. ‘It so does not.’

  ‘No,’ he agreed, ‘but it will do if you don’t wash it immediately.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Uncle Zak has brought chicken soup from the deli to set you back on the road to recovery.’

  Tears welled in Lauren’s eyes. ‘You heard then?’

  Zak stopped and smiled sympathetically at her. ‘You know what office gossip is like.’

  ‘Only too well.’

  ‘Plus Jude is stomping around the office like a bear with a sore head and you’re inexplicably not there. It’s not that hard to put two and two together.’

  ‘He’s left his wife.’

  Zak purses his lips. ‘I thought that was the plan.’

  ‘It’s a long story.’ Lauren hugged herself. Involving a pineapple suit and too much drink, she recalled miserably. ‘I’m trying to stay away from him, Zak, but it’s not easy. He’s ringing me constantly.’

  ‘Hence the reason you’ve unplugged your phone.’ He strolled over to the phone and plugged it back in. It rang immediately.

  ‘Shall I answer?’

  Lauren shrugged.

  Her friend picked up the receiver. ‘Hi, Lauren’s unavailable at the moment.’ He spoke in the style of an answerphone message. An American one. ‘This is Zak, her virtual message-taker. Please speak after the tone.’

  He made a tone.

  ‘You’re a very silly person,’ Lauren said.

  Zak turned to her. ‘Whoever it was hung up.’

  Straight away, the phone rang again. Zak pulled the plug out of the wall. ‘Now I can see why you did that.’

  ‘Jude doesn’t want it to end, but I do,’ Lauren said, a mixture of desperation and determination in her voice. ‘I want it to end now. I just pray that I’m strong enough, because right now it really hurts.’

  ‘Just as well I’m here,’ Zak said chirpily. ‘In addition to nourishing food, I’ve brought you a ghastly tasting herbal tonic to set you on your feet again and a book – Detoxifying Your Relationships. That should help with your emotional pain.’

  ‘What would I do without you?’

  ‘I don’t ever want you to find out,’ he said.

  ‘Friends again?’

  ‘A friend in need,’ Zak said in a wise manner, ‘is a friend indeed.’

  ‘Who said something like “a woman can only become a man’s friend in three stages – first an acquaintance, next a mistress and only then a friend”?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ Zak admitted.

  ‘It might have been Chekhov.’

  ‘I loved Star Trek,’ he joked, ‘but I don’t remember Mr Chekov saying that.’

  ‘I was thinking more of Anton Chekhov,’ she said, ‘rather than the Starship Enterprise.’

  ‘Ah, then that’s way out of my league,’ Zak said. ‘But I think the concept would work for me.’

  She was laughing again. Years and years of crying with Jude and, despite feeling wretched, within minutes Zak was making he
r giggle. There was probably a wise proverb in that too.

  Chapter 84

  Lauren showered, washed her hair, slipped on clean jeans and a T-shirt, pulled back the curtains, opened the windows, stripped the bed, put the vodka bottle back in the cupboard and began to feel human once more.

  While she had been busy, so had Zak. There were baguettes warming in the oven and the scent of fresh bread made the small kitchen feel homely. Her friend was stirring the chicken soup on the hob.

  ‘That smells delicious.’

  ‘When did you last use your oven?’

  Lauren looked sheepish. ‘I don’t think I ever have.’

  ‘You don’t look after yourself properly, woman,’ Zak scolded.

  ‘I know.’ She was embarrassed to admit it, but her friend was right. ‘But I will do from now on, I promise.’

  She risked turning on her mobile phone. It rang immediately. Lauren clicked it off. ‘Jude,’ she said.

  ‘You’re going to have to face him,’ Zak pointed out as he poured the soup into two bowls. ‘Be firm with him.’

  ‘I have,’ she said. ‘He’s trying to wear me down. Whenever I’ve tried to break away from him in the past, he just keeps pursuing me until I give in.’

  ‘Except this time his wife knows about it.’

  Lauren nodded.

  There was a small bistro-style table in the kitchen with two chairs opposite each other. She sat down and Zak put a bowl of soup in front of her. Lauren’s taste buds tingled for the first time in as long as she could remember.

  He then took the bread out of the oven and laid that before her too. ‘There is butter,’ he said, getting it out of the fridge. ‘It looks like it’s been there a while, but I think it’s one step short of botulism.’

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ Lauren said, waving away his concerns. ‘I’ve eaten a lot worse.’

  The soup was delicious and she ate ravenously, like a woman who hadn’t seen food for days. Which, come to think of it, she hadn’t.

  ‘Good?’ Zak wanted to know.

  ‘Delicious.’ She put her hand on his arm and their eyes met. ‘Thanks. Thanks for this.’

  ‘It’s what friends are for.’

  She wondered why Jude hadn’t turned up with groceries or trashy self-help books or some hideous vitamin concoction. She wondered why he hadn’t bullied her into the shower or cajoled her to eat.

  ‘I need to get away from here,’ Lauren said. ‘For a few days, at least. I want it to be over this time, and I want to be strong enough to stick to my resolution. I’m sure Annie would be glad to have me.’

  Zak looked bashful. ‘I’ve got a place in the Cotswolds. It’s small, nothing fancy. I could take you up there for a long weekend?’

  Lauren looked up from her soup, spoon paused. ‘Why don’t I know about this?’

  ‘I bought it with my last long-term girlfriend,’ he confessed. ‘She was a real country freak. We both loved the area, going for bracing walks in the winter, having candlelit dinners, the whole log-fire thing. When we split, I bought her out of the cottage. I thought it would work as a bachelor bolt-hole. But then it just didn’t have the same appeal. Trekking up there to spend the weekend on my own seemed just too much of a sad bastard thing to do. Now all I do is go to check on it every few months. I’m even thinking of getting rid when the market picks up.’

  ‘I didn’t know that.’

  ‘You don’t know everything about me, Lauren Osbourne,’ he said with a laugh.

  She wondered what else she didn’t know about Zak. ‘Do you have any other dark secrets, Zakary Reynolds?’

  ‘Oh, I have lots of skeletons in my closet,’ he said with an air of the macabre. ‘But I’ll clear them all out so that you can hang your clothes in there if you insist.’

  Suddenly, Lauren realised that she would like to know a lot more about this man. She drummed her fingers on the table. ‘How would you get away from work?’

  ‘I’ll take some leave.’

  ‘Jude will know,’ she said. ‘He’ll sack you.’

  ‘What will be, will be.’

  ‘Is that Chekhov too?’ she teased.

  ‘No. I think that was Doris Day.’

  ‘Could we really just disappear?’ A thrill of excitement ran through her exhausted body.

  Her friend shrugged. ‘I don’t see why not. We could be there in a few hours. Far from the madding crowd.’

  And persistent ex-lovers. Lauren grinned at him. ‘Then let’s do it.’

  Chapter 85

  Every day I sell out of my sandwiches and cakes. Every day I take more in. I never realised how hungry these people were. That’s the youth of today for you – no thought of their middle-aged waistlines.

  By today, Friday, at close of business I should have made the grand sum of two hundred and ninety-five pounds and I’m almost delirious with joy. I’ve around five hundred pounds to raise now and, if I can avoid giving my colleagues food poisoning, it should take me just a few weeks more. In fact, this is such a lucrative side-line that I’m thinking of carrying on so that I can raise my spending money too. Even when I’m back from Peru, the extra cash would certainly come in handy at home.

  It does mean that I’m spending two or three hours every night making sandwiches and baking cakes – Chelsea, of course, never pointed out the downside to me. But what else would I be doing but watching mindless television and letting my brain turn to mush. By the time I’ve finished though, all I can do is fall into bed in an exhausted heap. Which is not a problem as Greg and I are hardly swinging from the chandeliers at the moment. Despite a distinct thawing in our frosty relations, we are still doing non-contact sleeping. No bouncy cuddles for me yet.

  Still, I’m sure that me wearing a blue plastic boot isn’t a big turn-on anyway. And, if it was, I’d be worried.

  I give Blake Chadwick his cheese and chutney sandwich and try not to think about sex. He hands over his cash with a winning smile. ‘Keep the change,’ he says. ‘Put it towards the fighting fund.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Things are a bit awkward between us now. I think he feels bad about the whole pineapple thing and I feel bad that I witnessed him snogging Minny when I thought it might just have been me.

  ‘How’s the foot holding up?’

  I glance down at my attractive blue boot. ‘It’s okay. I have to make sure that I rest it at night.’

  And, of course, our cosy little running sessions have been curtailed. Which is perhaps just as well.

  ‘You’ll still make it,’ he says encouragingly.

  ‘That’s the plan.’

  But, to be honest, I’m not so sure. I have become a demon on my crutches, but as I lay in the bath last night, foot up on the side, reading my Peru guidebook, reality hit me. And it was a cold, hard slap. I’m never going to be fit enough to do this. My dream now seems so unreal, so unattainable. Sacsayhuamán, Tambomachay, Pikillacta, Rumicolca . . . will I ever see any of these places with my own eyes? Or has this trip just become a pipe dream? I may well manage to raise all my money in time, but can I possibly hop the entire length of the Inca Trail?

  My heart feels too heavy to think of that now. I just need to focus on raising the money and religiously doing my physiotherapy exercises.

  At five o’clock, Greg picks me up from work. He helps me to the car and I mutter about my day while he pretends to listen.

  Blake Chadwick comes out after us and shouts across, ‘Want a hand?’

  ‘No, thanks,’ Greg says back, more crisply than he needs to. ‘I can manage just fine.’

  Then instead of starting up the engine straight away, we sit in the car and my husband’s eyes narrow as he watches Blake get into his flash sporty number and drive off.

  ‘That’s Blake Chadwick,’ I offer. More to fill the silence than anything else. ‘One of the bosses.’

  ‘Yes – I saw him at the hospital,’ he says, and gives me a quizzical look.

  I often think that Greg notices nothing unless it inv
olves fish. Now I’m not so sure.

  Chapter 86

  Lauren threw a few things into a bag. She couldn’t really concentrate, so she’d probably packed all the wrong things. But, hey, they had shops in the Cotswolds, didn’t they?

  All she wanted to do was get away, flee this place. Be as far away from Jude as she could possibly manage. She realised that a small corner of the rolling English countryside might not count as ‘far away’, but it was certainly a great start and about all she could handle at the moment. The fact that Zak was coming along with her was adding to her feelings of comfort and joy. She’d spent too many days being alone.

  And her friend was wonderful company, relaxing to be with and funny in his own silly way. That was just what she needed now.

  Zak had gone home to get his own stuff together and then he was coming back to collect her. She’d switched on her phone again and had already ignored more than two dozen calls from Jude.

  She’d phoned Annie and told her that she was escaping London and Jude’s clutches for a few days until the heat died down, and her sister sounded relieved to hear that she was still alive, let alone anything else.

  An hour later, there was a knock on the door and, for a moment, Lauren held her breath. Then Zak shouted, ‘It’s only me!’

  Her body relaxed again as she opened the door. ‘I’m ready,’ she said. ‘I just need to get my bag.’

  ‘Let me,’ Zak said, and he swept through to her bedroom and hoisted up her bag. ‘This weighs a ton! How long do you think we’re going for, woman?’

  ‘Travelling light has never been my style.’

  ‘I can’t imagine what you’ve got in here. You are planning on coming back?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Lauren said. ‘I might not.’ And she wasn’t sure if she was joking.

  Zak dropped her bag on the floor and came and hugged her. ‘You’ll be fine,’ he said. ‘Absolutely fine.’

  She nodded. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

  Outside and the bright light hurt her eyes. Lauren put on her sunglasses. It looked like it was going to be a lovely weekend. A beam of lightness pushed into her bruised heart.