The Mini-Break

by Maddie Please

  ‘Much as I don’t want to leave, I really must get going,’ Joe said at last. ‘It’s nearly nine o’clock. Ivy will be up and about and she’ll wonder where I am. And I need to see Ken. I can’t just leave everything to him.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I said.

  He looked at me. ‘Are you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘A bit sorry?’ He grinned.

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘That’s good. Because I’m not either.’

  ‘Did you enjoy Cornwall?’ I said.

  ‘I did. I thought Ivy deserved to do something different. She’s had a rough few weeks but she’s getting stronger all the time. We went to a fantastic little cottage on the north coast, near Padstow. Do you know it?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘It was wonderful. You’d have loved it.’

  Would I? Probably. Perhaps this was the time to ask about Ivy’s mother?

  Joe kissed my forehead. ‘I must go, have things to do. I need to write a thousand words on something rural and fascinating for Devon magazine by the end of next week. And you have a book to edit I think you said?’

  ‘I have a book I need to pull to pieces and stick together with Gorilla Tape if I’m honest,’ I said ruefully.

  He got out of bed and found his clothes while I lay back against the pillows and watched him. He was nothing like any man I’d ever known. He was muscular and broad and, well, masculine. There was something quite wonderful about watching the muscles in his arms and back moving under his smooth skin. Something that almost made me want to bite him.

  At last he was sitting on the edge of the bed pulling his socks on. I was feeling quite panicky inside. I wanted to be like all the women I have ever despised, clingy and needy and begging him not to go. Or at least get some sort of commitment from him as to when I was going to see him again. Quite pathetic. Any minute now I’d be asking him what he was thinking.

  I drew breath to try and say something casual, like doing anything this evening? Or we must do this again sometime soon. Instead I said nothing and watched him running his hands through his hair, trying and failing to get it into some sort of order. Even that was adorable.

  ‘Right, I’ll be off.’ He leaned over and kissed the end of my nose.

  ‘Okay,’ I said.

  ‘I’ll be seeing you.’

  That ranked alongside I’ll pop back as far as I was concerned.

  For heaven’s sake, woman. Stop being quite so pitiful.

  I pulled on a dressing gown and went downstairs to see him off. I felt quite silly. Almost as though I was his wife and I was seeing him off to work. I wondered if he would kiss me goodbye at the front door.

  He didn’t, he put one hand on my shoulder and winked at me.

  ‘I’ll be seeing you,’ he said.

  You’ve said that already. When?

  ‘Yes fine,’ I replied, pulling my dressing gown around myself a bit tighter.

  He paused as he got to his car and looked across at me. He opened the front door and slung his coat into the back seat and then he paused for a moment and came back across the drive towards me. Fast and purposeful. He pulled me into his arms. He bent his head down and kissed me. I mean this was kissing at its best. Not just a farewell peck, this was a lot of kissing packed into a few seconds. His arms were hard and strong around me and the cold air seeped under my dressing gown, making me shiver.

  At last he let me go and I had to grab hold of the doorframe to stop myself sinking to the floor.

  I went upstairs and stood on the landing to watch his car driving away down the lane. Then I let out a triumphant yodel that echoed around the house. I closed my eyes and tried to get my head into some sort of order.

  *

  I was crazy. I was thinking more and more about him and when I might see him again and sex and snogging and, well, mostly about him. But at the same time I didn’t have the wit to ask the questions I wanted answered. How did he feel about me? Apart from anything else I really liked him. I was making a basic assumption that he found me sexually attractive. What happened to Ivy’s mother and was she around?

  I went to have a shower and tried on some clothes, wondering for a while why everything seemed to have shrunk. I turned my back on the biscuit tin I could see out of the corner of my eye and went outside to have a calorie-free cigarette. There was no doubt about it; I was going to develop into a lardy, chain-smoking sex obsessive. Not an attractive look at all.

  I went in and settled down at the dining room table with my laptop. Then I went to get coffee and a piece of toast. I opened Choose Yes and scrolled back a few pages to read a particularly excruciating scene of sex and seduction where my description implied the two participants had five legs and superhuman stamina. I hadn’t quite thought it through.

  I drank my coffee and riffled through a few sheets of the hard copy. I did a bit of crossing out and dramatic asterisk placing with a pink highlighter to make me feel I was achieving something. Then I went to make another piece of toast and spent a few minutes hunting for the Marmite. Then I sat and looked at the screen.

  Get on with your bloody book, woman!

  There was something I needed to do with the blasted thing. I needed to stop tinkering about with it and rewrite it. Either that or start something else, something completely new and fresh. The idea was infinitely more appealing than trying to breathe life into Choose Yes.

  Slowly and with great care I put the hard copy of the book back into its cardboard box and closed the lid. Then I saved the changes I had made to the laptop version and closed the whole thing down with a ceremonial spin of one index finger. I opened up a new page and typed.

  Chapter One

  Of course life isn’t quite that simple. I’m a plotter not a pantser after all. I need a plot in the same way I need a route map or an instruction book. I reached for a new notebook and a new pencil.

  The Man Who Knew Her.

  That was the title that lurched out of my subconscious. There was going to be a man. A man with sparkling eyes and a sexy grin. He would be kind and thoughtful. He would think about life and the planet without being an environmental bore. He would never eat kale. He wouldn’t own a bicycle. He would know how to live and care for people without being a do-gooder. He would love my main character despite her flaws and faults because she would be funny and feisty; he would make her laugh. Together they would somehow make up more than just two people. They would be friends and passionate lovers. She wouldn’t know it but he was the man she needed in her life. And he would wait for her to realise it.

  I sat staring into space for a few minutes and read through the notes I had scribbled. For the first time in ages I felt excited about writing, I had shivers down my spine at the thought of these people, this story. This man.

  *

  Before I knew it a week had passed. I only went out to stock up with milk and essentials. I even tried to cut back on the amount of junk food I was getting through. I didn’t try terribly hard but I did start to buy fruit instead of biscuits occasionally.

  Sometimes the words flowed out of the ends of my fingers like magic. Sometimes I looked up to find a whole morning had gone past. The next day the seconds dragged as slow as a snail on tranquillisers. I didn’t seem able to concentrate, to think clearly. Then one morning when I was sitting in the supermarket café with my laptop, an email arrived from my estate agent asking me to ring her urgently. Realising it had been sent two days previously I rang.

  I got straight through to the nicotine-laden tones of Christy Church who was handling the sale. She’s not a woman to waste time with pleasantries.

  ‘It’s been going well, the flat is in a very desirable area with all the good access to amenities one would hope for. There’s been good take-up,’ she said.

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘It means people are clicking into the link on Rightmove in order to read the details. There have been several brochure requests and seven viewings. I did try and contact you first bu
t you never answer your mobile and my colleague told me you were out of the country.’

  ‘I’m not actually out of the country,’ I said.

  ‘Then where are you?’

  ‘I’m in Devon.’

  ‘Well that’s practically the same thing,’ she snorted. I heard her gulping at her coffee. ‘We had an offer through a week ago. It was a naughty chancer, several thousand behind the askers anyway.’

  ‘Right. So?’

  ‘So nothing. I know them. I’ve rejected it on your behalf. The reason I wanted to talk to you was this. Rosie was doing a viewing on Monday and she met up with your husband. He said you weren’t sure about selling anyway, which isn’t what I understood. Could you clarify?’

  I bit down my fury. ‘What husband? I don’t have a husband. I’ve told you this before. My ex-partner is supposed to be moving out as soon as possible. I gave him a month’s notice.’

  ‘Fine, so is he looking to purchase in this area? It’s a pity he doesn’t want to buy you out. Still, I might have something that would suit him.’

  ‘Christy never mind about him, I’m employing you. Can we just concentrate on selling my flat?’

  ‘Sure, sure. So I’ll be in touch and make some notes on your file when I get a moment. How soon will he be leaving?’

  My heart sank. I would have to go back to London and shunt Benedict forcefully towards his final exit from my life. It was the right thing to do for everyone concerned. I could see he would be in no hurry to leave. And let’s be fair, why should he? A great flat in a super location for free and just a short bike ride to work. Or whatever passed for work in the mysterious world of corporate law, mergers, and general pissing about with other people’s money.

  After I’d rung off, promising to ring back the following day, I realised every one else in the café was listening in to my conversation. So I went out to my car. As I got in, the phone rang again.

  ‘Jassy! Everything okay?’

  She didn’t waste time with pleasantries either.

  ‘Lulu, where the frig have you been, you silly cow? I’ve been trying to ring you God knows how many times. I have exciting news!’

  ‘Go on?’

  ‘I’m pregnant!’

  I let out a joyful scream and I think Jassy did the same thing.

  ‘Oh my God! When is it due? How do you feel? Are you okay?’ I said.

  ‘I’m due on the fifth of November. Ralphie says if it’s a boy he wants to call him Guy and if it’s a girl Sparkler. Sparkler Sutton – have you ever heard anything so daft? I’m fine. A bit sick you know and I’ve had to stop smoking and drinking so I’m a bit edgy. Although the very thought of gin makes me want to retch.’

  ‘Good heavens! The Plymouth Gin Distillery will go out of business!’

  ‘I know. Bit of a shock to the system, I can tell you. Ralphie is like a dog with twenty tails. He’s been on the phone telling as many people as he can. Probably random strangers for all I know. I’ve told him it’s early days yet but he won’t listen.’

  ‘Blimey! Pregnant!’

  ‘I know! I’m so excited. I wanted to celebrate with you, Auntie Lulu, but you’ve disappeared again.’

  ‘You know exactly where I am. I’m in Barracane House—’

  ‘Well okay. Look, I’ve been putting up with seven sorts of shit from Benedict. And I have Sally on my back night and day wanting my final edits. I’m nearly certifiable. I shouldn’t have to put up with that in my condition.’

  ‘No of course not. Look I’m sorry, I just needed to get away.’

  ‘You do know Benedict has moved back into the flat don’t you?’

  ‘No, I didn’t actually know that. But Christy—’

  ‘Well surprise, surprise. He has. In fact, I saw Toby the other day and he seemed to think Tess was living there too. Or that she’s certainly a regular visitor.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well what do you expect?’

  ‘I expected him to move out!’

  ‘Don’t be so naïve.’

  ‘I just assumed he would. I should have changed the locks,’ I said sadly.

  ‘You idiot, you mean you didn’t?’

  ‘No. Look, I don’t suppose you would—’

  ‘Organise it? No I bloody wouldn’t. I’ve got more than enough to deal with at the moment. I have to see my doctor every five minutes, make bookings for various things and decide where Sparkler is going to sleep. If I don’t get my act into gear she will be sleeping in a cardboard box under the bed. I’m joking. Anyway I think you need to come back here, make an enormous fuss of me and sort out this mess, not just rush off to some rural idyll. A few things have landed on Sally’s desk too; things that mean the Darling sisters need to shape up a bit. If we don’t we’re going to be yesterday’s news.’

  ‘What sort of thing?’

  ‘Those two aristo girls? Lady Fenella and the other one, Lady Nia thingy-whatsit. You know, the pair who are always lounging about on yachts, flashing their tits at the cameras. Wardrobe malfunction I don’t think so. Sally’s just got them a massive advance for their piffling ramblings on life and love and eyebrow threading. They are taking over. They are everywhere at the moment. Surely even down there in Nowheresville you’ve noticed them? If we don’t do something, our brand – you remember that? The one we went to a lot of trouble to make? – that will be down the tubes. Sally will be spending all her waking hours on them. I’ve just about finished the first draft. You have buggered off out of the public eye to do what? Doss around in the back of beyond with … with … hang on.’

  Mercifully she paused to draw breath but it just gave her time to think a bit more. ‘It’s that farmer chap isn’t it? I knew it! You’re shagging that farmer. You sly cow.’

  ‘Jassy you’re not—’

  ‘I’m almost speechless!’ She seemed to have gone up several octaves. ‘All that rubbish about Benedict and it was you all the time wasn’t it? Do you realise what would happen if he found out? Does Sally know?’

  ‘Does Sally know what?’

  ‘Don’t give me that shit. You know perfectly well what I’m talking about. I’m married to Ralphie – the cutest and sexiest cricket commentator ever – not that there’s much competition, and you’re in a meaningful relationship with – and I quote – handsome, hotshot barrister Benedict. You’re not supposed to be screwing around with rustic louts the minute you are left on your own. And I’ve been giving Benedict earache about that Tess on your behalf, and he keeps droning on about how he didn’t do anything. What were you thinking?’

  ‘He’s not a rustic lout!’

  ‘So you are screwing him!’

  I didn’t answer and Jassy gave a strangled yelp of annoyance.

  ‘Honestly! Lulu! I wondered why you kept going down there for no good reason. Now of course it’s bloody obvious. You always told me you weren’t that bothered about sex anyway. Take it or leave it. That’s what you said only a few months ago.’

  ‘Jassy, will you please shut up for a second.’

  ‘Right, I’d love to hear this. I’d like to know why you are behaving like an irresponsible teenager.’

  ‘I think I’m in love with him,’ I blurted, my voice small and silly in the middle of the tirade of abuse from my sister.

  ‘What?’

  There was silence for a few blessed seconds.

  ‘What did you say?’ Jassy said at last.

  ‘I think I’m in love with him.’

  As I said it I could feel myself mentally curling up into a ball and cringing. But then as the silence wore on I realised it was probably true. It would explain a lot.

  Was this what love was? Not being able to concentrate on anything? Thinking of him? Remembering the shape of his hands? Wanting to be with him all the time? Feeling safe with him? Wanting to talk to him? Love wasn’t just mooning around feeling happy. It wasn’t just looking out of the window wondering what he was doing. It wasn’t just being pleased to see him. It was so much more. It was proba
bly an overload of some hormone making me behave like a fool but there it was.

  Jassy sighed. ‘Oh bugger.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  The following afternoon saw me back in Notting Hill and the fact I was there made me more bad-tempered than I had been for many years.

  I got to the flat just in time to see one of the estate agents closing the door behind her.

  ‘Hi, Rosie, have you been doing another viewing?’ I said hopefully.

  She looked more than a bit pissed off. ‘Well I would if they had turned up. That’s the fourth time I’ve arranged a viewing with them and they haven’t turned up or have called me with some stupid excuse. I’ve wasted most of the afternoon. Honestly I’ve never had such trouble selling a flat in this building. They usually go in no time. Six weeks max.’

  ‘Who was it?’ I said.

  ‘Mr and Mrs Delabole. Sold their flat already, apparently desperate to move. So much so that they don’t turn up.’

  A sudden suspicion struck me.

  ‘It’s not Benedict is it? Who by the way is not my husband and should be moving out very soon. Christy told me he had been messing about pretending I was thinking of taking the flat off the market and not moving at all. And that is not the case. She was supposed to be making a note on my file.’

  Rosie put her bag down on the floor and put the keys to my flat safely into a zipped pocket. ‘I don’t think this is him but how would I know?’

  ‘No. Well do you have their number to call them?’

  ‘Of course but they never answer.’

  I pulled my phone out. ‘Tell me what it is?’

  ‘I can’t do that! That’s against company policy!’

  ‘Okay you ring it on my phone. I won’t look and you can delete the number afterwards.’

  After a bit of humming and hahing Rosie agreed and punched the number into my phone. Then she put it on speakerphone.

  After a few seconds we heard it ringing.

  And then someone answered. A familiar voice. Oleaginous. Very irritating.

  ‘Lulu! My darling! To what do I owe this honour?’

  I grabbed the phone. ‘Percy?’

  ‘Lulu? How nice to hear from you!’