Trish's Story

by Georgia Hill

  Tash laughed and raised her glass. ‘It will. I know, I’ve tasted it and it’s my favourite.’ She groaned. ‘Not allowed it at the moment. On a diet.’

  ‘You? On a diet?’ Millie was incredulous. ‘There’s nothing of you at the moment. Won’t the training for the fun run help?’

  Tash glanced over to where Adrian was talking to Barry. Patrick Carroll had joined them and looked bored. ‘It would if I didn’t keep missing sessions.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘You know what it’s like. Work.’

  ‘I do but I’ve learned the hard way to step back every now and again.’ Millie raised her eyebrows. ‘And with the wedding planning business, the café and now this place, I have to delegate. Still love it all though.’

  Tash looked around at the shelves groaning with books. ‘Do you think you’ll turn over a profit with this place?’ She’d just ordered thirty pounds worth of paperbacks from Amazon and felt guilty. It was all too quick and convenient to buy books online. She wondered if Millie was doing the right thing.

  ‘Yes. Yes, I do.’ Millie sounded determined. ‘I still think there’s a place in the world for a well-stocked, old-fashioned bookshop and Amy is working so hard. As well as the book group, we’re going to run children’s events, readathons, puppet shows, that sort of thing. The organisers of the literary festival want to use us as a base too. And it’s great to have more covers for the café. We’re so busy and popular these days we’ve had to turn custom away.’ Millie looked so horrified Tash laughed again. ‘Books and cake,’ Millie went on. ‘Two of my very favourite things.’

  ‘And at least books don’t have calories,’ Tash observed.

  ‘That’s true. How are you getting on with Wuthering Heights?’

  Tash pulled a face. ‘Not very well. Only got as far as Lockwood seeing the ghost.’ Tash shivered. ‘I’d forgotten how bleak that book is. I started reading it while sitting in the garden on my day off and it still puts the wind up me.’

  ‘Talking Wuthering Heights?’ A booming voice sounded as Biddy joined them, Elvis, her deaf assistance poodle, loyally trotting behind. ‘Could never abide Heathcliff the first time I read it and I haven’t changed my mind. Cruel man.’

  ‘I remember completely falling for him when I read the book at school,’ Tash put in. ‘I loved his wildness. His passion. The way he dominated the book.’

  ‘Well, reckon when you’re seventeen that’s what takes your fancy.’ Biddy slugged down her drink. ‘Too controlling by half, in my opinion. I’ll just go and get another cosmopolitan. Excellent cocktails, Millie. Excellent.’ She strode off.

  ‘She might have a point,’ Millie said. ‘About Heathcliff I mean. I’d never thought of him that way.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Have to confess I haven’t even started the book yet. The spirit is willing but the work schedule isn’t. I may have to cheat and do the SparkNotes.’ Someone called to her and she excused herself, squeezing through the crowds.

  Chapter 12

  Tash picked up another cocktail and wandered outside. She left the crowds behind and went to sit on the café’s terrace. Millie had been clever. She’d made the most of the café’s best asset by joining it up with the open space outside the bookshop. Now there was one large terrace lit by pretty fairy lights and fragranced by bedding plants. It would be the perfect spot to idle away a few hours with a good book and a pot of Millie’s famously excellent coffee. Maybe she was right about the bookshop being a success. It had all the right ingredients.

  It was a balmy evening – one of those rare English summer nights when it was comfortably warm enough to linger outside. The murmuring sea shifted gently under a fingernail moon and one or two people had drifted onto the beach. Tash could hear shushed giggles and the occasional chink of glasses. She perched on the low wall which separated the terrace from the beach and breathed in the sweet-scented heliotropes. Millie loved her potted plants. She and her husband Jed radiated happiness. Tash had seen him earlier whispering jokes into Millie’s ear when she’d looked a little flustered at the volume of people who had turned up. He was supportive. Her rock. It was lovely seeing Millie blossom in the way she had since marrying Jed. Tash knew she hadn’t had an easy time of it after her parents died. She’d never complained, had made the best with what she had, drove a rusty old car and lived in the flat above the café. She and Jed still lived there. No five-bedroom detached on an executive housing development and a top of the range Porsche for them. They seemed happy without the trappings of the life that she and Adrian had so carefully carved out for themselves. Tash sipped her cocktail. Did it make her happy? She’d thought at one point a big house and a flash car would be all that it took. But she wasn’t so sure lately. The more she grasped at material things the more happiness sidled out of reach.

  Tash sighed. Maybe she should leave Adrian. Start over again. But the voice of the chubby, bespectacled teenager, the girl who all the boys overlooked, wheedled in her subconscious. You’ll be on your own again. Adrian is the only man who has ever really loved you. Look how kind and generous he is.

  ‘That’s a heartfelt sigh.’ It was Kit. ‘I seem to make a habit of coming across you in moments of introspection. I called your name but you were miles away.’

  Tash forced a smile. ‘Hi.’

  ‘May I join you? If you’d like to be on your own I understand.’

  She gestured to the space on the wall beside her. ‘Do you know, I’d really like some company. I was in danger of getting maudlin and it’s too beautiful a night for that.’

  ‘It is.’ Kit straddled the wall and put his beer down in the space in between them. He stared into the night and at the distant lights of West Bay.

  Tash took the opportunity to study him in the dim light given off by the fairy lights. Tonight he had forsaken the beanie hat. His hair had been shaved into a buzzcut and, with his collarless shirt straining over hulking shoulders, he looked the sort of man she’d cross the road at night to avoid. But Tash had seen how tenderly he’d treated Merlin, had witnessed his self-deprecating humour. She was beginning to appreciate that, under the muscles, lurked a gentle, caring man. And a very sexy one. A year ago she wouldn’t have looked at him twice. Too scruffy. Too many He-Man muscles. Not slick enough. But now? Now she could sense her skin prickling in his presence, feel the beat of her heart skipping out a little dance. She sighed again. The last complication she needed at the moment was to fall for a man like Kit.

  ‘Lot of sighing going on,’ he said mildly.

  ‘Just mulling over a few things.’ She expected him to ask what those things were, but he just lifted a leg onto the wall and rested his arm on his knee. No questions. No interrogation as Adrian would have done. No fussing over her. He simply let her be, in her own space. It was curiously soothing.

  They sat in silence for a while enjoying the night and the sounds of the party in the background.

  Kit picked up his glass and drained it. It broke the mood.

  ‘Not tempted by one of Millie’s cocktails?’ she asked. ‘My mojito is good.’

  ‘Not really a cocktail sort of a bloke. More of a real ale guy.’

  ‘Figures,’ Tash said and saw one brow rise.

  ‘And you,’ he pointed with his empty glass. ‘Are very much a mojito sort of a girl.’

  ‘Guilty as charged, m’Lud. I can’t help it.’

  ‘Goes with the outfit.’

  Tash looked down at her silk jumpsuit. She’d thrown it on at the last minute. It was vividly patterned in oranges and pinks and showed off her black hair and summer tan. Adrian hated it which was probably why she’d worn it. ‘One of my favourites.’ She held up a foot to display the hot pink stilettos. ‘Goes with my fave shoes.’

  Kit grinned. ‘So I see. You look very beautiful tonight, Tash.’

  If she leaned forward, she could kiss him. Her eyes dropped to his lips. Kit had a generous bottom lip and a moody upper one. How could she have not seen what Emma and the others saw? He was drop dead gorgeous. She found herself inchin
g closer, wondering if his stubble would scratch when their lips locked.

  ‘Can never fathom how women walk in heels like that.’

  The comment threw cold water over her lustful thoughts. Just as well. She was getting a bit carried away there. ‘Practice,’ she said, airily. ‘Lots of practice.’ Tash was vaguely aware of the alcohol seeping into her bloodstream. The evening was getting fuzzy around the edges. Although Adrian had heated up a frozen pizza before they’d left, she’d only had a slice. Too churned up to eat. ‘And they add inches.’ She jumped off the wall and demonstrated with only a very slight wobble. ‘See. Bet I’m nearly as tall as you.’

  ‘Doubt it.’

  ‘Stand up then and we’ll see.’ Tash could never resist a challenge.

  ‘Tash, I’m six foot three.’

  ‘And these are five-inch heels. Come on, real ale man, show me your credentials.’ She giggled. She hadn’t had this much fun in ages.

  Reluctantly, Kit stood up. Placing his beer glass on the wall next to Tash’s cocktail glass, he stood next to her. ‘See? Much taller.’

  ‘No,’ she complained. ‘We’ve got to do it properly. Stand back to back like you used to do at school.’ She tripped to stand behind him and stood on tiptoe. The movement pressed her back against his and the heat from his hard muscles radiated through her silk jumpsuit. She wiggled a little, enjoying the seductive slip of the thin material against her over-heated body.

  ‘How do I know you’re not going to cheat?’ Kit laughed, a delightful low rumble beginning from somewhere deep inside. Tash felt the laugh vibrate through him and then through her. It was all becoming incredibly erotic.

  She giggled and wheeled round to face him. As she stumbled he caught her by the waist, pulling her against him. She felt his belt buckle push into the soft flesh of her stomach, felt his erection nudge her. The night fell away. All she could feel was Kit’s powerful arms around her waist, all she could see was him.

  Again, she realised that if she reached up, she could kiss him. ‘Me cheat?’ she breathed as she gazed up at him. ‘What sort of girl do you think I am?’

  ‘I don’t know, Natasha. What sort of girl are you?’

  It was Adrian.

  Chapter 13

  ‘I’m not sure I know you anymore.’ Adrian shoved the Porsche into third and accelerated loudly up the hill out of town.

  ‘Oh Ade, it was only a bit of fun.’

  After he’d sneaked up on them, Adrian had coldly introduced himself to Kit and had then grabbed Tash by the arm so tightly she knew she’d have bruises later. He’d marched her through the street to where he’d parked the car and ordered her to get in.

  ‘You’re drunk!’

  ‘I was at a party. I was having a good time. Or I was until you did your gorilla act.’ She rubbed her arm. ‘You hurt me, Adrian.’

  ‘That got through. I’m sorry.’ He turned into the entrance to the estate. ‘I am sorry, Natasha. You make me get jealous. You don’t laugh like that with me.’

  ‘Maybe it’s because you’re always banging on about babies and me giving up work,’ Tash grumbled.

  Adrian pulled onto the drive of their house and killed the engine. He eased round to face her, which was difficult in the confined space of the sports car. ‘I love you Natasha. I love you very much. Perhaps too much.’ He put a finger and thumb to the bridge of his nose and frowned. ‘When I saw you flirting with that hulk, the red mist descended. I’m sorry if you think I was heavy-handed but there were people at the party who are influential in this town. Dennis Hall and Arthur Roulestone to name but two. I couldn’t have you making a fool of yourself.’

  ‘Why? Because you’d lose a building contract? Come off it, Adrian.’

  ‘Because you have standing in this town, Natasha. I thought you said your career was everything to you? That you wanted your own agency? Do you think people are going to take you seriously as a businesswoman if they see you falling over drunk?’ He got out and slammed the car door.

  Tash stumbled after him. Had she really been that drunk? She hadn’t thought so. Just mildly tipsy, like most of the other guests. And did it even matter all that much? She followed Adrian into the hall. The bright light bouncing off the white walls and huge silver-framed mirror blinded her for a second and she staggered.

  ‘Some coffee, I think,’ Adrian said coldly.

  Tash went into the kitchen and perched on a bar stool. ‘You’ve been drunk lots of times at works dos. Who gives a shit?’

  ‘Language, Natasha,’ Adrian said automatically. ‘Who indeed? Probably the Morrisons who were staring at you with outright disapproval.’

  Tash hooted. ‘The Morrisons? Oh, come on Ade, they’re not serious about moving. They ask us in to value their grotty old bungalow out of habit.’

  Adrian paused in the act of filling the kettle. He turned to her. ‘Really? You hadn’t heard then, that their daughter is ill and they need to move to be nearer her?’

  Tash stared at him. She hadn’t heard that. As its only resident estate agent, she needed to be on top of Berecombe’s news and gossip and it wasn’t usually difficult. The town was a small place. Gossip quite often led to business and business meant commission. She usually knew who was getting married, who was getting divorced,, who had died, got a new job, was expecting another child. All triggers to putting a house on the market. Her mouth fell open. Had she slipped up? She’d sent Emma in to value the Morrisons’ home but she hadn’t checked to see if Em had bothered to follow up. And, as the manager, it was her responsibility.

  Adrian clicked on the kettle. ‘I doubt very much if they’ll bother to give Hughes and Widrow their business having seen the exhibition you made of yourself tonight.’

  Tash screwed up her face with the effort of remembering what awful things she’d done. Had a giggle with Millie, drunk a few cocktails. Had a laugh with Kit. There was nothing else, was there?

  ‘You’re obviously having trouble remembering spilling your drink all over Marti Cavendish, knocking over a tray of glasses and reading aloud passages from the more erotic section of the bookshelves.’

  ‘I didn’t do any of that.’

  ‘I think you’ll find you did, Natasha.’

  She felt suddenly very sick. The cocktails had been strong and she’d drunk on a practically empty stomach but she was certain she hadn’t done any of those things. ‘Why are you making things up about me?’

  ‘I’m not, Natasha. And if you really can’t remember the evening you must be more inebriated than I thought. Perhaps you should go to bed. I’ll bring you up your coffee and some water.’ He turned his back to her and Tash could see rigid disapproval in every muscle. ‘I’ll sleep in the spare room tonight.’

  Tash fled. She staggered upstairs wondering what was going on in her head. Had she thrown her drink over Marti? The woman had bumped into her in the crush, that much was true. And a tray of glasses had been knocked over, that was why Millie had been called away but Tash had been nowhere near it. Or she didn’t think she had. Her memories of the night had been eclipsed by the joy she’d felt when flirting with Kit – and made fuzzy by the cocktails. She flopped down onto the bed. And she didn’t think she’d read any erotica out loud although, out of everything Adrian had mentioned, it was the one thing she would be most likely to do. She shook her head to clear it. Had she really behaved like that? She was pretty sure she hadn’t. But if she hadn’t, why would Adrian make it all up? Why would he want to lie?

  Chapter 14

  Tash woke up the following morning with a sore head and a gritty mouth. She couldn’t believe how hungover she felt after only a few cocktails. Staggering into the shower, she blasted herself with water as cold as she could stand. She regarded her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Even through the condensation she could see shadows under her eyes and a face that was too thin. Gripping the basin, she vomited suddenly and copiously. ‘Never again,’ she croaked. ‘I’m going teetotal.’ Leaning forward she wiped the mirror but she didn’t
look much better. Her reflection was still misty and hazy round the edges. It was a bit like her sense of herself; she felt the true Natasha Taylor was slipping away.

  ‘You look awful!’ was Emma’s greeting as Tash walked into the office.

  ‘Thanks, Em.’ Tash sank onto her chair.

  ‘Too many of Millie’s cocktails last night?’

  ‘I don’t think so. I didn’t drink that much.’

  ‘Might be the bug that’s doing the rounds. Stevie says half his friends have gone down with it.’

  Of course, that was why she was feeling so ill. Tash leaned back in relief. It explained why she felt so out of it. Maybe even explained why she had such a hazy memory of the party.

  ‘You enjoyed yourself last night then? Saw you talking to Kit. Really nice man.’

  ‘Yes, he is.’ Tash sat up slowly. ‘Em, was I out of order?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Did I seem too drunk?’

  Emma shook her head. ‘Nah, don’t think so. You seemed normal drunk. Bit tipsy. Having a good time.’

  Tash took a deep breath. This was mortifying. ‘I didn’t do anything too outrageous then?’

  ‘Not that I saw.’ Emma shrugged. ‘But I went to sit on the beach for a bit. I got hot – if you know what I mean.’ She winked. ‘Me and Ol have to make the most of any opportunity we can.’

  ‘I didn’t … I didn’t do anything like read the naughty bits out of books?’

  Emma hooted. ‘Wouldn’t put it past you but, like I said, I was otherwise occupied with erotic thoughts of my own. You just looked like you were having a good time, Tash. Why all the questions?’

  Tash didn’t reply. She was too embarrassed to press Emma on the matter. A wave of nausea overwhelmed her and she shot off to the bathroom.

  When she returned Emma insisted she go home, assuring her she would cope with any appointments booked and would cancel those she couldn’t cover. Steering Tash towards the door, she said, ‘And if management don’t like that, they can sodding well put in another person. We’ve been saying for months we can’t cope with just the two of us now Pete has been promoted. You alright to drive home? If not, I can drop you off on the way to the Smiths’ place.’