Thinking of You

by Jill Mansell

  “If I asked my mother to iron anything for me,” Lucy said cheerfully, “she’d call me a lazy toad and tell me to do it myself.”

  Jem’s room was untidy but clean. Ginny’s heart expanded as she drank in every familiar detail, the happy family photos on the cork board up on the wall, the clothes, books and CDs littering every surface, the empty Coke cans and crisp packets spilling out of the wastepaper bin. Unable to help herself, she quickly made the bed and hung all the scattered clothes in the wardrobe. This must be the new top Jem had bought in Oasis. Oops, and there was an oily mark on the leg of her favorite jeans; they needed to be soaked if that was going to come out. And was that nail polish on—

  The front door slammed and Ginny froze, realizing that she was clutching her daughter’s jeans like a stalker. Hastily flinging them back onto the bed, she burst out of the bedroom just as Bellamy began to bark. A split second later she reached the living room in time to see Jem and Bellamy greeting each other in a frenzy of ecstasy.

  “I don’t believe this! Mum, what are you doing here?” Jem looked up as Bellamy joyfully licked her face.

  “Your mother’s come all this way to see you,” Rupert drawled and Ginny intercepted the look he gave Jem, clearly indicating how he felt about mad mothers who drove hundreds of miles to see their daughters on a whim.

  Shocked, Jem said, “Oh, Mum.”

  “No, I haven’t,” Ginny blurted out. “Crikey, of course I haven’t! We’re on our way to Bath and I just thought it’d be fun to pop in and say hello.”

  “Really? Well, that’s great!” Letting go of Bellamy at last, Jem gave her mother a hug. Ginny in turn stroked her daughter’s blond, pink-streaked hair. It wasn’t quite the reunion she had envisaged what with Rupert, Caro, and Lucy looking on and her brain struggling to come up with an answer to the question Jem was about to ask, but at least she was here. It was better than nothing.

  Oh, she’d missed her so much.

  “Bath?” Jem stepped back, holding her at arm’s length and looking baffled. “What are you doing going to Bath?”

  Aaargh, I haven’t the foggiest!

  “Visiting a friend,” said Ginny. Quick, think.

  “But you don’t know anyone in Bath.”

  I know, I know!

  “Ah, that’s where you’re wrong,” Ginny said gaily. “Ever heard me talking about Theresa Trott?”

  Jem shook her head. “No. Who’s she?”

  “We were at school together, darling. I got onto that Friends Reunited website, left my email address, and in no time at all Theresa had emailed me. She’s living in Bath now. When she invited me up to stay with her, I thought I couldn’t drive past and not stop off here en route, that would be rude. So here we are!”

  “I’m so glad.” Jem gave her another hug. “It’s lovely to see you again. Both of you.”

  “Your mother was about to start ironing your clothes,” said Rupert, his mouth twitching with amusement.

  Jem laughed. “Oh, Mum.”

  Deciding she hated him and feeling relaxed enough to retaliate now, Ginny looked Rupert in the eye and said, “Hasn’t your mum ever ironed anything for you?”

  “No.” He shrugged. “But that could be because she’s dead.”

  Damn, damn.

  Dddddrrrringgg went the doorbell.

  “You may as well get that, Jem,” Rupert drawled. “It’s probably your father.”

  Jem grinned and pulled a face at Rupert, then skipped downstairs to answer the door. She returned with a thin, dark-eyed boy in tow.

  “Lucy, it’s Davy Stokes.”

  Lucy was in the process of pulling her gray sweater up over her head. Tugging down the green T-shirt beneath, she said, “Hi, Davy. All right? I was just about to jump in the shower.”

  Ginny heard Rupert whisper to Caro, “I expect he’d like to jump in with her.”

  “Sorry.” Davy, who had long dark hair, was clutching a book. “It’s just that I promised to lend you this so I thought I’d drop it round.”

  “What is it? Oh right, John Donne’s poems. Great, thanks.” Lucy took the book and flashed him a smile. “That’s really kind of you.”

  Blushing, Davy said, “You’ll enjoy them. Um… I was wondering. There’s a pub quiz on at the Bear this afternoon. I wondered if maybe you’d like to, um, come along with me.”

  Rupert was smirking openly now. Ginny longed to throw something heavy at him.

  “Thanks for the offer, Davy, but I can’t make it. Me and Jem are off to a party. In fact we need to get our skates on or we’re going to be late. We’re all meeting up at three.”

  Three o’clock? It was half-past two already. Ginny wondered if Lucy was lying in order to spare Davy’s feelings.

  “OK. Well, maybe another time. Bye.” Davy glanced shyly around the room while simultaneously backing toward the door.

  “Let me show you out,” said Rupert.

  He returned moments later, grinning broadly. “You’ve made a conquest there.”

  “Don’t make fun of him,” Lucy protested. “Davy’s all right.”

  “Apart from the fact that he has no friends and still lives at home with his mum.”

  “So, what’s this party you’ve been invited to?” Ginny put on her bright and cheerful voice and looked at Jem, whom she’d driven for three and a half hours to see.

  “It’s Zelda’s birthday. She’s on our course,” Jem explained. “We’re starting off at this new cocktail bar on Park Street. I’d better get ready. What time do you have to be in Bath?”

  “Oh, not right this minute. I can drop you off at the cocktail bar if you like.”

  “Thanks, Mum, but there’s no need. Lucy’s driving and we’re picking up a couple more friends on the way.”

  “Jem?” Lucy’s disembodied voice drifted through from Jem’s bedroom. “That black top you said I could borrow isn’t here.”

  “It is! It’s on the floor next to the CD player.”

  “The only thing on the floor is carpet.” Popping her head round the door, Lucy said, “In fact all your clothes are missing.”

  “They’re in the wardrobe,” Ginny said apologetically. “I hung them up.”

  Rupert was highly entertained by this.

  “Oh, Mum.” Jem shook her head. “You’ll be making my bed next.”

  Lucy grinned. “She’s done that too.”

  “Checking the sheets,” Rupert murmured audibly into Caro’s ear.

  “Well, I think we’d better leave you to it.” Realizing that the girls had less than ten minutes in which to get ready and she was only in their way, Ginny clicked her fingers at Bellamy. She enveloped Jem in a hug and made sure it wasn’t a needy one. “And you,” she added, waggling her fingers in a friendly fashion at Rupert and Caro because, like it or not, they were a part of Jem’s new life.

  “What rotten timing,” said Jem. “I’ve only seen you for two minutes and now you’re rushing off again.”

  Ginny managed a carefree smile. So much for her wonderful plan to spend the weekend with the person she loved more than anyone else in the world. “I’ll give you a ring in a few days. Bye, darling. Come on, Bellamy, say good-bye to Jem.”

  ***

  Outside it was starting to rain. As she drove off, waving gaily at Jem on the doorstep, Ginny felt her throat begin to tighten. By the time she’d reached Whiteladies Road the sense of disappointment and desolation was all-encompassing and she no longer trusted herself to drive. Abruptly pulling over, willing the tears not to well up, Ginny took several deep breaths and gripped the steering wheel so hard it was a wonder it didn’t snap in two. It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s just not—

  With a jolt she became aware that she was being watched. She turned and met the quizzical gaze of Davy Stokes. In the split second that followed, Ginny realized she’d pulled up at a bus stop, it was a bitterly cold, rainy afternoon and from the expression on Davy’s face he thought she’d stopped to offer him a lift.

  Oh, brillian
t.

  But it was too late to drive off. And at least she wasn’t in floods of tears. Buzzing down the passenger window and reaching over, Ginny dredged that voice up again and said chirpily, “Hello! You’re getting terribly wet out there! Won’t you let me give you a lift?”

  He was a kind-of-friend of her daughter. She was the mother of a girl he was kind-of-friendly with. Just as she’d felt obliged to make the offer, Ginny realized, so Davy now felt compelled to accept it. Looking embarrassed, he said, “Is Henbury out of your way?”

  Ginny had never heard of Henbury but after having driven two hundred miles up here and with the same again to look forward to on the return journey, what were a few more?

  “No problem. You’ll have to direct me, though. And don’t worry if Bellamy licks your ear, he’s just being friendly.”

  “I like dogs. Hello, boy.” Having climbed into the car and fastened his seat belt, Davy flicked his long dark hair out of his eyes and said, “Can I ask you something?”

  “Anything you like.” Yerk, so long as it’s nothing to do with contraception.

  “Did they talk about me after I’d gone?”

  Ginny paused. “No.”

  He smiled briefly. “Shouldn’t pause. That means yes. Do they think I’ve got a crush on Lucy?”

  “Um, possibly,” Ginny conceded with reluctance. “Why? Don’t you?”

  “Of course I do. She’s gorgeous. But I kind of realize nothing’s ever going to come of it. I know I’m not her type.” Wistfully, Davy said, “I had hoped to win her over with my deadpan wit, kind of like Paul Merton, y’know? Trouble is, every time I see Lucy my wit goes out of the window. I turn into a gormless dork instead.”

  Bless him. Ginny was touched by his frankness. “Give yourself time,” she said soothingly. “Everyone gets a bit tongue-tied at first.”

  “To be honest, she’s out of my league anyway. You won’t mention any of this, will you? Can it be just between us?” asked Davy. “I’ve made enough of a fool of myself as it is.”

  “I won’t breathe a word.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise. Shall I tell you something in return? I wasn’t that taken with Rupert.”

  Davy’s upper lip curled with derision. “Rupert’s a prat and a dickhead. Sorry, but he is. He looks down his nose at everyone. Carry straight on over this roundabout.”

  “And you’re still living at home, did somebody mention?” Lucky parents, thought Ginny as she followed the sign to Henbury.

  “With my mother. Dad took off years ago. Mum didn’t want me to move out,” said Davy, “so I only applied to Bristol. Just as well I got a place really; otherwise I’d have been stuck.”

  Lucky, lucky mother. She’d asked her son not to move out so he hadn’t. So simple, thought Ginny. Now why didn’t I think of that?

  “She might change her mind. Maybe Rupert will move out and you could take his place.” Ginny was only joking but wouldn’t it be great if that happened?

  “Except Rupert’s hardly likely to move out,” said Davy, “seeing as it’s his flat.”

  “Is it?” She hadn’t realized that. “I thought they were all tenants.”

  Davy shook his head. “Rupert’s father bought the place for him to live in while he’s here at university.”

  “Oh. Well, that makes sense, I suppose. If you can afford it.”

  “From what I hear, Rupert’s father can afford anything he wants.”

  “So the others are just there to help with the mortgage and keep Rupert company.”

  “Turn right here. And they just happen to be taking the same course.” Davy’s tone was dry. “He’ll probably have them writing his essays for him before long. Now take the next left. That’s it, and ours is the one there with the blue door. That’s brilliant. Thanks so much; maybe we’ll see each other again sometime.” Twisting round in the passenger seat, he said, “Bye, Bellamy. Give me five.”

  He waited until Bellamy had raised a paw, then solemnly shook it.

  “Good luck,” said Ginny. “And you never know, things might work out better than you expect.”

  Davy climbed out of the car. “You mean tongue-tied good guy gets the girl in the end? Maybe if this was a Richard Curtis film I’d stand a chance.” With a good-natured shrug, he added, “But I can’t see it happening in real life. Oh well, at least it’s character-forming. Everyone needs to have their heart broken some time.”

  Ginny watched him head into the house, the kind of modest, everyday, three-bed end terrace that Rupert would undoubtedly sneer at. Never mind other people having their hearts broken; hers was a bit cracked right now.

  “Time to go home, boy.” Patting Bellamy’s rough head, Ginny said, “All the way back to Portsilver. So much for our weekend with Jem, eh? Sorry about that.”

  Bellamy licked her hand as if to let her know that he didn’t mind and had already forgiven her. Ginny gazed lovingly at him. “Oh, sweetheart, thank goodness I’ve got you to keep me company. Whatever would I do without you?”

  ***

  Bellamy died three weeks later. The cancer that had spread so rapidly throughout his body proved to be untreatable. He was unable to walk, unable to eat, clearly in pain. The vet assured Ginny that putting Bellamy to sleep, letting him go peacefully, was the kindest thing she could do.

  So she did it and felt more grief and anguish than she’d ever known before. Bellamy had been with them ever since Gavin had moved out. Someone had suggested getting a dog to cheer them up and that was it, a fortnight later Bellamy had arrived in their lives, so much better company than Gavin that Ginny wished she’d thought of it years ago. Gavin was unfaithful, a gifted liar, and emotionally untrustworthy in every way. Bellamy wasn’t; he was gentle, affectionate, and utterly dependable. He never fibbed to her about where he’d been. His needs were simple and his adoration unconditional.

  “You love that dog more than you ever loved me,” Gavin had grumbled.

  And when Ginny had replied, “Wouldn’t anyone?” she had meant it.

  Chapter 3

  And now Bellamy was gone. Ginny still couldn’t take it in, found it impossible to believe she’d never see his dear whiskery face again. This morning they had buried him in the back garden beneath the cherry tree. Jem had caught the train down last night and together they had sobbed their way through the emotional ceremony.

  But Jem had lectures and tutorials back in Bristol that she couldn’t afford to miss. Staying down in Portsilver wasn’t an option. Red-eyed and blotchy, she had reluctantly caught the lunchtime train back to Bristol.

  Ginny was pretty blotchy herself, not helped by having managed to jab herself in the eye with a mascara wand while she was doing her makeup. She felt bruised, emotionally drained, and wrung out but at the same time far too jittery to sit alone in an empty house gazing out at Bellamy’s grave. Being miserable was alien to her character—she had always been the naturally cheerful type.

  Set on distraction, Ginny drove down into the center of Portsilver and parked the car. At least in November it was physically possible to park your car in Portsilver. Right, now what little thing could she treat herself to? A gorgeous new lipstick perhaps? A sequined scarf? Ooh, or how about a new squeaky toy for—

  No, Bellamy’s dead. Don’t think about it, don’t think about it.

  Don’t look at any other dogs as you walk down the street.

  And don’t cry.

  In a few weeks it would be Christmas, so how about making a start on some present buying instead?

  Miraculously, Ginny began to feel better. Picking out stocking fillers for Jem, she chose a pale pink tooled leather belt and a notebook whose cover was inlaid with mother-of-pearl. In another shop she found a pair of blue-and-green tartan tights, acrylic hair bobbles that flashed on and off when you tapped them, and a ballpoint pen with lilac marabou feathers exploding from the top.

  This was something she had always enjoyed, buying silly bits and pieces. Having paid for everything in her basket
, Ginny left and made her way on down the street. A painting in the window of one of the shops further along caught her eye and she moved toward it. No, maybe not; up close it wasn’t so great after all.

  The next moment, glancing across the road, Ginny saw a woman she knew only as Vera and her heart began to thud in a panicky way. They weren’t close friends but had got to know each other while taking their dogs for walks along Portsilver’s main beach. Vera owned an elegant Afghan hound called Marcus who was at this moment sitting patiently while his owner retied her headscarf. She was the chatty type. If Vera spotted her, she would be bound to ask where Bellamy was.

  Unable to face her today, Ginny ducked into the sanctuary of the shop. Inside, tables were decoratively strewn with china objets d’art, hand-crafted wooden animals, funky colored glass candelabra, and all manner of quirky gifts.

  Quirky expensive gifts, Ginny discovered, picking up a small pewter-colored peacock with a jeweled tail and turning it over in the palm of her hand. The price on the label gave her a bit of a shock—blimey, you’d want real jewels for thirty-eight pounds. Then again, it wasn’t her kind of thing but Jem might like it. Oh now, look at those cushions over there; she’d definitely love those.

  Except Jem wasn’t going to get the chance to love them because a surreptitious turning over of the price tags revealed the cushions to be seventy-five pounds each. Yeesh, this was a lovely shop but maybe not the place to come for cheap and cheerful stocking fillers.

  Lurking by the table nearest the door, Ginny peered out to see if Vera was still there. Not that she disliked Vera; it wasn’t that at all; she just knew that having to tell another dog lover that Bellamy was dead would be more than she could handle just now. And breaking down in public was the last thing she needed.

  No, thankfully, the coast appeared to be clear. Glancing around the shop to double-check that there was nothing else she wanted to look at and might be able to afford—shouldn’t think so for one second—Ginny became aware that she was the object of someone’s attention. A black-haired man with piercing dark eyes, wearing jeans and a battered brown leather jacket with the collar turned up, was watching her. For a second their eyes locked and Ginny saw something unreadable in his gaze. Heavens, he was good-looking, almost smolderingly intense.