Crazy, Undercover, Love

by Nikki Moore

  It gets worse the next day.

  Instead of the phone call I dread from Alex, saying he’s spoken to Tony and never wants to see me again, a harried looking delivery driver arrives at my door carrying a fantastical, gobsmacking, massive bunch of flowers. Red, yellow, green, bright pink, they remind me of the sound and colours of the market in Barcelona the morning we played hooky.

  Jess strolls out of the kitchen carrying a plate of sandwiches as I place my signature on the electronic gizmo for the delivery man. ‘Woah!’ she says, coming to a standstill. ‘Look at those. Are they for me?’

  I frown as I close the door behind the man, my stomach dropping. Maybe I’ve assumed wrong, they could be from Jake, though I’m not sure he’s the flowers type from what she’s told me.

  Plucking a card out of the foliage, my stomach lifts again.

  Charley

  ‘Nope, sorry. Me,’ I grin.

  ‘Come on then, give up the goods,’ she smiles. ‘I’ve got to get back to school in time for afternoon registration.’

  Tearing the tiny envelope open with indecent haste, I cut my finger, sticking it in my mouth to suck up the blood. Jess rolls her eyes. Will this girl ever grow out of her clumsiness? I can practically read the words in large scroll above her head. Dropping my hand, I stick my tongue out at her and read Alex’s card aloud.

  Flowers from my new favourite place, for my new favourite girl.

  See you soon.

  A x

  His new favourite girl. ‘Oh, no,’ I moan. ‘Is he trying to kill me? I thought I was in trouble but … now what am I supposed to do?’

  ‘Don’t worry, it won’t last for long,’ she says. ‘They all get bored with the fancy stuff after a while,’ she frowns. ‘Saying that, they’re very nice and erm, bright, but I kind of expected something a bit more posh and expensive from a billionaire.’

  ‘They’re perfect,’ I scowl, walking into the kitchen to start rooting around in the cupboards for something to put them in. ‘They’re to remind me of the great time we had together in Barcelona.’

  ‘Oops, my mistake!’ she smiles, producing a vase from under the sink and filling it with water for me as I find the scissors and start cutting open the cellophane to get to the flowers. ‘I stand corrected. Just promise me you’ll be careful,’ her tone changes, ‘I don’t want to see you hurt again.’ She passes me the vase. ‘I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll see you this evening.’

  After I’ve arranged the flowers and put them in the middle of the lounge coffee table with a satisfied smile, I go back to my chaotic room to box up books and CDs. Jess’s words keep spinning through my mind. I don’t want to get hurt either, but every time I think about Alex’s flowers I feel warm. It’s thoughtful, it’s romantic and it’s a positive thing to focus on against the discomfort of packing up my things to leave the home I love.

  Over the course of the afternoon I keep realising I’m staring into space with a soppy grin on my face. Boy, I really am a goner.

  Once Jess gets home from work we start fixing dinner together whilst she chatters about what happened at work and the funny thing a year nine pupil told her. She trails off, glancing into the lounge. ‘They are nice flowers,’ she says grudgingly.

  ‘Thanks very much,’ I tease, putting a pan on the hob to boil water for rice.

  ‘Charley.’ Her voice is serious.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘About you moving home—’

  ‘There’s no other choice. We’ve talked this to death. We can’t afford it and I won’t let you lose this place.’

  ‘But I’ve been thinking. We could sell up and rent another place together or we could rent this place out and—’

  ‘Stop it,’ I say briskly, adding salt to the water. I can’t look at her or I’ll cave, and that wouldn’t be fair to her. ‘I appreciate it, you know I do, but we’d still need money, which I haven’t got, and there isn’t time for what you’re talking about. You’re a great friend, but this is my problem not yours. You’ve got your job, and I know you love the rat-bags you teach, and,’ I inject breeziness into my voice, ‘you’ve got Jake. For as long as you want him.’ Going over to the corner unit, I hunt for the chilli sauce. ‘And living together could never have been forever. At some point we’re going to find guys we want to settle down with, so—’

  Making an exasperated sound, she pushes past me and pulls the jar from the unit. ‘You’ve changed your tune.’ Setting out an onion, minced beef, plump red peppers and a bottle of Worcestershire sauce: ‘Before Barcelona it was all, I’m a career girl, I’ve got other things to focus on at the moment, the last thing I need is a man mucking things up.’

  ‘Yeah, well … ’ I traipse over to stand next to her, watching as she deftly peels the onion under cold running water.

  ‘I know what you’re doing, Charley.’ She lifts one eyebrow and slides a sideways look at me through her shiny blonde hair, ‘and I understand. I just wish—’ She sighs.

  ‘I know.’ I squeeze her shoulder.

  The doorbell rings. Glancing at Jess's onion-juice-covered hands, I wipe my hands on a tea towel. ‘I’ll get it.’

  ‘Okay. More flowers?’

  ‘I doubt it!’

  Shrugging, I pad along the hallway carpet. ‘Hello—’ My intended greeting dies on my lips when I swing the door open to find Alex’s driver on my doorstep.

  ‘Good evening, Miss Caswell.’

  ‘Hi Evan. Is everything all right? I’m not supposed to be somewhere am I? Is Alex okay?’ I say anxiously, peering over his shoulder into the communal corridor.

  ‘Everything is fine. Mr Demetrio sent this over for you.’ Bending over, he picks up a wrapped package leaning against the wall and holds it towards me.

  ‘Oh. Thank you.’ What now? Is he going to keep showering me with presents? And is it guilt or apology, or something else? ‘Do you want to come in? For tea or something? We’re just making dinner but—’

  ‘I’m fine, Miss. My wife is expecting me home.’ He smiles, ‘But thank you for the offer.’

  ‘It’s Charley, remember?’ I smile back. ‘I’ll let you go then.’

  ‘Goodnight, Charley.’

  ‘Thanks. Night.’

  Shutting the door, I kneel down on the carpet and peel open the layers of classy, embossed white and navy wrapping paper, biting the inside of my cheeks. He doesn’t need to keep spending money on me, I hope he knows that. Still, I can’t deny I’m enjoying it. Though it’s not the price tag I’m interested in, it’s the fact he’s thinking about me.

  ‘Are you coming to finish making dinner or what?’ Jess charges into the hallway. ‘Oh. Alex again?’

  ‘Yes.’ I lift the lid. ‘Oh, wow!’ I breathe reverently.

  ‘What—’ Jess comes over and looks down into the box. ‘Nice,’ she says, appreciatively.

  ‘Gorgeous,’ I sigh. ‘Heavenly.’ Pulling out the blue, purple and white swirly mega-high heels I admired so much in Barcelona and letting them dangle from my fingers. ‘He remembered.’ He bought me shoes.

  A scrawled note attached to the inside of the box lid catches my eye.

  Wear them, enjoy them. A x

  ‘Well I’m guessing they’re going to be painful rather than enjoyable at first,’ I comment. ‘But they really are beautiful.’

  ‘Okay. I’m not a shoe kind of girl.’ Jess is more into biker boots than stilettos. ‘And I know I was a bit underwhelmed by the flowers to start with.’ Jess leans over me to study Alex’s note. ‘But I’ve got to say I’m starting to think you’re really lucky. This guy knows what you like. It’s sort of sweet. He’s courting you.’

  ‘He is not!’ I laugh. ‘And if he was, it’d be totally arse about face because we’ve already spent a whole weekend together and—’

  ‘Had amazing sex?’ she finishes, grey eyes shining. ‘Uh-huh. Still. Just saying. Sweet. Now come on Cee, I’m starving, let’s go sort out dinner.’ She tuts when I stand up and gaze longingly at the shoes. ‘Ok–ay,�
�� she sighs good-naturedly, ‘You can go and try them on.’

  ‘Thanks!’ Without giving her a chance to change her mind, I go into my room and pull on the shoes, admiring them in the full-length mirror. They’re stunning and sexy and Jess has to call me three times for dinner before I take them off and join her.

  Two days later Alex calls. We’ve talked in the meantime, when I called to thank him for the gifts, managing with a big effort to speak like a grown up and not squeal like a little girl, but when he asks me to go and see him at his flat my stomach does a mini-flip.

  ‘Okay,’ I murmur. ‘What’s your address?’

  ‘I’ll send Evan for you.’

  ‘No, I’ll tube it, thanks.’ I’d rather leave on my terms if it all goes wrong.

  Thankfully the underground station is only five minutes away from his place because I’m wearing the shoes he bought me and they are really high. I’m stupidly nervous as I meander towards his posh apartment block by the flowing Thames, getting slower and slower the closer I get. As I hover by the building entrance trying to figure out the security panel, a heavily muscled guy comes pounding down the stairs in tight blue and white running gear. After giving me the once over, he flashes me a cheeky smile and holds the door open. A detached part of me realises he’s pretty fit, but there’s only one guy who matters.

  ‘Thanks,’ I murmur, pushing my way in, nerves flaring and sending tremors through me. I dimly notice black sparkly tiled floors and white walls and gold trimmings before I walk straight into a lift that seems like it was waiting just for me. Pressing P for the penthouse, I stare at my reflection in the mirrored walls. Pride has made me put battle gear on, the new shoes and a black woollen dress that shows off every curve of my body and clashes beautifully with my hair, or so Jess told me in slightly less wholesome words. The aim of the outfit is either Alex will appreciate it so much he’ll want to pull it off, or it will be forever etched in his memory as I walk out of his life. I bite my lip. Has he got his divorce? Has Tony admitted everything? Does Alex want to be friends with benefits or to really be with me? Is this where we properly begin?

  The plushness of the lift, including the underlying scent of lemon and classical music being piped in from somewhere, yells out the place belongs to the mega wealthy. It’s expected, given what Alex told me about his lifestyle. What’s unexpected, and rocks me back on my heels, is the woman who slams Alex’s front door as I step into the wide, carpeted receiving area.

  ‘I wouldn’t bother,’ she spits, lunging for the lift doors before they slide shut. Clipping into the lift, she turns and hits a button with a long immaculate nail, giving my tight dress a disdainful look whilst pulling her own unmistakable designer togs straight. ‘Whoever you are,’ she hisses, ‘he’s in a foul mood. As always. Bastard.’

  I stand open-mouthed as the doors swish the stranger away. Whoever I am? Who the heck is she? A friend? An acquaintance? It can’t be Louise, can it? Whatever the relationship, she’s everything I’m not, a classic petite green-eyed blonde beauty in designer gear. Much more Alex’s world than mine. She can’t be a girlfriend, Alex wouldn’t have lied, would he?

  I don’t think we have any more secrets. I hope not. We’ve had enough to feature in an episode of EastEnders.

  Then I wonder what he did to aggravate her so much. The Alex I know isn’t a bastard, though he was leaning that way a bit the day we met, with his stern glances and arrogance and orders. But that’s not who he is really.

  Whirling around as I hear his door open, I come face to face with Alex … holding a little girl with unmistakable blue eyes.

  ‘Charley!’

  What the– he has a daughter?

  He has a daughter and never told me.

  I slump back against the wall, sick, shocked, hit by a surge of anger and sharp disappointment.

  Looking at me and flushing, he puts her down and crouches to her level. ‘Layla, can you go inside please? I need to speak to this lady quickly.’ He runs a gentle hand over her dark blonde hair and something inside me tugs hard. ‘I’ll just be a minute. You go and watch some Dora.’

  The little girl nods obediently. ‘Yes, Daddy. Then Layla can have a dwink?’ Fingering the edge of his t-shirt sleeve, her plump fingers splay against his muscular bicep. She’s so tiny and he’s so big. I melt inside a little but harden myself to it. He lied to me. After the way he reacted to my dishonesty, he didn’t see fit to tell me the massive secret he was keeping.

  ‘Then can I have a drink please?’ he corrects. ‘And yes, I’ll get you one soon, okay?’

  She thinks about it for a few seconds very seriously and then nods. ‘Yes, Daddy, okay.’

  As she trots away, Alex whips back to me and I’m ready for him. ‘You’ve got a child?’ I explode.

  Waiting until his daughter’s out of earshot, ‘I was going to tell you,’ he says defensively.

  ‘Really?’ I chuckle, but there’s nothing funny about it. ‘I’m not the only one good at keeping secrets, am I Alex?’ Shaking my head, ‘I can’t believe it. All those conversations on the phone that weekend, the way you were so stressed out, it wasn’t about Louise, was it? It was about Layla. You’re such a hypocrite! You were so judgemental about me lying to you, but you had a child and didn’t tell me!’

  ‘We kept our marriage and child private and I wanted it to stay that way,’ he whispers furiously, ‘I wanted to protect Layla from the scrutiny of the press.’ He rubs a hand over his dark hair, blue gaze tormented. ‘Charley, I’ve been fighting Louise for regular access rights since we split, and in Barcelona she was making completely unreasonable demands. And she’s always been so impossible about me seeing anyone I couldn’t chance upsetting her when I was so close to getting a divorce and joint custody. I couldn’t risk telling you about my daughter that weekend,’ his voice rises, ‘you were a stranger.’

  ‘Who you kissed and then slept with! You told me about Louise, Alex. You could have told me about Layla.’

  ‘Don’t throw accusations at me!’ he shoots back, eyes cooling, ‘I wasn’t even close to telling you. When I found out you lied to me and were after something, it didn’t help, did it? You more than anyone should understand why I’ve kept this quiet. I was doing my best for my daughter, trying to achieve something good for both of us, something fair. Similar to what you wanted in Barcelona from me.’ A bang sounds from the living room and he gives me a wild-eyed look. ‘Charley—’

  ‘You need to go, I get it, but…’ I run sweaty palms down the front of my tight dress. ‘Fine. You didn’t tell me in Barcelona for the reasons you’ve just explained, but were you going to tell me any time soon, Alex?’

  He pauses a fraction too long and I have my answer. ‘That's a no then,’ I say tightly.

  ‘I would have—’

  ‘When?’ I demand hotly. ‘When she started school, or turned sixteen?’

  ‘I was thinking a few months.’ The coolness in his eyes heats with anger. ‘But didn’t know if you’d be around for long enough.’

  That stings. My eyes go blurry. ‘Thanks,’ I gasp. ‘I guess I know where I stand now.’ A pretty clear indicator a long-term relationship wasn’t on the cards.

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. Argh.’ He tugs on his hair so it does that sexy standy-uppy thing. ‘A lot’s happened today and I’m still trying to deal with all the ramifications, and God knows you’ve had a shock—’ Another bang and his jaw clenches. ‘I’m sorry, but whatever else I feel, my daughter has to come first.’

  ‘But—’ I understand that.

  He cuts me off. ‘Please. Give me some space, Charley. Just leave me to it.’ All I hear is leave me alone. ‘I’ll call you.’

  Of course his child comes first. It’s what any halfway decent parent should do, but God does it hurt that he can set me aside so easily. He’s stressed and under pressure but he’s not inviting me in to be a part of it, to help him figure this out. I’m on the outside looking in. He doesn’t have faith in me, in us, to
protect his daughter. Which tells me everything I need to know.

  ‘Don’t bother,’ I choke, ‘There’s no trust, Alex. And without trust?’ I rake my eyes over him one last time, my chest aching. ‘There’s nothing.’ Lurching to the lift, embarrassingly the heel of my shoe catches on the carpet and I stumble, falling heavily against the wall, forehead striking the plaster. Ouch. Bloody typical.

  Alex springs out of the doorway and grabs me, eyes anxious. ‘Are you all right?’

  I rub my head, feeling the bump already swelling. His last sight of me is this irritating, DNA-imprinted clumsiness that’s a hundred times worse when I’m around him? Fantastic. ‘Yes,’ I bite, cheeks flaming, ‘I’m just great.’ Being held by him is bittersweet, his body through the t-shirt and jeans as warm as ever, muscles in his shoulders flexing. I quiver, knickers pinging. No. Hot sex and a gorgeous face and laughter do not equal lasting love. Commitment and honesty are more important.

  I look into his face as his arms squeeze me close. Tears clog my throat, thickening my voice. ‘I can’t do this. Let me go or don’t. Let me in or send me away. Pick one.’ A beat. I wait for his decision. There’s a cry from the apartment behind him. He drops his arms and my eyes fill up. ‘Bye Alex,’ I whisper.

  Turning my back, I punch the call button. I can’t speak. This is unholy agony. Alex doesn’t offer any comment, I simply hear a huge sigh and the door shuts with a click. When the lift arrives, I stumble into it, pressing the GF button and staring at my feet. I frown as I see the blue, white and purple swirls. I can’t stand it. Just before the lift doors slide shut, I kick them off and throw them onto the carpet by his door, where they lie lonely and discarded.

  I can’t have any reminders of him. It would hurt too much.

  As the lift goes down, I realise I didn’t ask what he decided about Tony. And I’m not sure I even care any more.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Sighing, I settle into the corner sofa of my local village pub after a windy and uncomfortable walk. The weather has chilled in the past few weeks, snow hitting the ground for the last three days in a row. Usually I love snow, but this year it’s plain irritating. It’s March, it should be starting to feel like Spring.