by Nikki Ashton
“Whatever,” she said, as she picked up her bag and followed the rest of her happy little party.
When she got into the car, Niall had already squeezed himself into the back. Charlotte climbed into the front seat as daintily as possible, all the time looking ahead, aware that Niall’s face behind her was frozen into a frown.
“Nice meal wasn’t it?” she said, trying to make conversation, as Paul sent pebbles flying.
“I don’t know, I feel a little sick myself.” Responded the passenger in the rear of the car.
Chapter 17
Bets decided that she needed cheering up, so picked up the telephone and dialled Charlotte’s work number. She hadn’t been able to get hold of her the previous evening, and she desperately wanted to know how Charlotte’s lunch had gone. When Charlotte answered it, rather grumpily, Bets gathered that all was not well, but gossip was gossip, and it had to be gleaned.
“So I guess that yesterday was crap.” Bets went straight in for the kill.
“Oh, God Bets it was awful. I’m sorry I ignored your call last night. I didn’t answer because basically, I was trying to become invisible.” Charlotte went on to tell Bets the whole regretful tale, aware that Bets was trying not to laugh too loudly. “And when Tom told him we were related, well I thought that he was going to be sick, I just wanted to die.”
“Never mind,” soothed Bets. “You don’t like him anyway, or do you?” she asked, playing devil’s advocate.
“NO, I do not; he's rude; he's obnoxious; he's…"
“Very sexy,” Bets giggled.
“How do you know; you've never even seen him,” retorted Charlotte in a slightly strangulated voice.
“I’m just going by your reaction my dear. Anyway, aside from your nightmare lunch, have you heard from Kerry? I tried last night but got no reply.” Bets suddenly felt in the doldrums again after the initial hilarity.
“Yes, a couple of days ago. I meant to tell you yesterday, but what with “the lunch” and everything I cleanly forgot, which makes me feel a real shit. Apparently, Kelvin is going out on a date, but before you blow off the handle, I’ve spoken to him. It seems that it’s not really a date, just his work crowd, but he will be arriving with one of the girls he works with.”
“So why tell Kerry at all, or can I guess; to make her jealous?”
“Hmm, I think so, plus it’s the pub where her auntie Irene works, so I can see why he wanted her to know.”
“I don’t know what we are going to do with those two. How about we have a girly night at my place, try to persuade her to come round tomorrow night, what do you think?”
“Yeah okay,” said Charlotte. “You ring Kerry, for about seven o’clock.”
“Great, I’ll ring her now, see you tomorrow.”
Once Bets had returned the receiver, she felt her mood lift slightly. Hopefully, they would have a good old gossip tomorrow night, and they could all shake off their mournfulness, depression and, in Charlotte’s case, feeling like a prat. She called Kerry’s mobile with no response so left a voice message and then called her home number and did the same, hoping that she would at least listen to one of them. As Bets thought about Kerry, she suddenly felt sad again, what was Kerry doing with her life? Jane then broke her reverie.
“Bets, sorry but there is someone here to see you.” She stepped aside to reveal a young woman, who Bets recognised as Stuart’s sister.
“Oh, hello.” Bets walked towards her, smiling kindly at her sad, dark-brown eyes.
“Hello, I hope you don’t mind me calling, but I felt I should, seeing that we practically ignored you at the funeral.” A shadow passed over both their faces. “Kelvin told me where to find you; I’m Emma by the way.” She held out her hand to Bets, who ignored it and hugged her instead.
“Bets, obviously. Pleased to meet you,” she said into Emma’s shoulder.
Bets pulled away and they stood in awkward silence, until Bets nodded towards the staff room at the back of the salon.
“Come on, we’ll get a coffee.”
Emma nodded nervously and slowly followed Bets to the light, airy room. She watched as Bets began to spoon coffee into two cups. When she had finished Bets placed them on the table and sat down, Emma pulled out a chair and joined her.
“So what made you come and visit me? I don’t want to appear ungrateful or anything, but I wasn’t aware that you knew I even existed. Stuart and I were only together a short time.
“I know,” replied Emma before sipping her coffee, “but you were all Stuart talked about for the whole of the summer.” She smiled at Bets, who now had tears in her eyes thinking about all those wasted months.
“Bit of a silly cow where men are concerned, I’m afraid,” said Bets in explanation.
“Aren’t we all? It doesn’t matter now anyway. He knew how you felt.” Bets looked surprised. “He rang me on the day it happened,” explained Emma, her voice faltering slightly. “He said that you’d finally made it, and that he was really happy.”
“He was?” Bets asked, running a finger along the rim of her cup. “I hope he knew how I felt about him. It was quite intense even after two weeks.
Emma nodded. “He knew. He was like a kid at Christmas, all excited.” She smiled wistfully, remembering their telephone conversation.
They both sat in silence, gazing at the murky brown coffee in their cups, neither daring to speak in case they upset the other one. Bets broke the silence.
“I don’t know what to say really, you must be devastated by it all,” she sighed.
“You take each day as it comes. Mum and Dad aren’t coping very well. I have to keep my eye on them, make sure that they are eating and everything. That’s why I didn’t get chance to speak to you at the funeral, I was a little preoccupied with them, which is what I meant by ignoring you; it wasn’t on purpose.” Emma smiled apologetically.
“Oh God, please don’t worry about that, no one would have expected you to have been anywhere else but by your parent's side,” said Bets, placing a hand on Emma’s.
“Well some people thought that it was all about them, not Stuart. One old girlfriend of his, from college, was hysterical outside the church. She kept coming over to us and talking about when they were together. She was talking about being in the lead car; it was pathetic really. I think he only went out with her for a couple of months.” Emma put a hand to her mouth, as Bets smiled at her words. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, I mean you and him were different.”
“Emma, it doesn’t matter. I know what you meant.”
“I’m so sorry, me and my big mouth.” Emma smiled at Bets and sighed deeply. “How are you anyway?” she asked.
Bets now also sighed, thinking about how she was; she couldn’t really answer. “I don’t know is the truth. This may sound strange and callous, but it’s not meant to, but I feel really sad, but I don’t really miss him. I know we saw each other nearly every day in two weeks, but I’ve forgotten that routine and gone back to my old one. Do you understand?”
Emma nodded. “I understand. I suppose it’s like going on holiday, for two weeks you have a daily routine, then you come home, and it’s all forgotten after a few days. I miss him though, like mad. He was a pain, like most big brothers are, but I really, really miss him. Still I suppose that life must go on.”
“I know,” Bets sighed. “But it must be hard for you.” Her gaze wandered over Emma’s tired face. “I’ve lost both my parents, so I can sort of understand what you are going through. You try and kid yourself that life has to go on, but really all you want to do is curl up in a ball and scream blue murder.”
“Hmm, something like that. Look I’d better go; I must be keeping you from your work.” Emma laid a hand on top of Bets'. “I just wanted to see you that’s all and well, let you know I’m thinking of you.” Emma stood up and buttoned her coat. “Oh before I forget, this was in Stuart’s things left in the hotel.” She fished about inside her bag and produced a long thin object w
rapped in Union Jack paper. “It’s for you.” Emma passed the parcel to Bets. “I won’t say that we will keep in touch, because that would be a lie.”
Bets smiled and nodded, clasping the parcel tightly in her hand. “You’re right, but if you are ever in town and fancy a massage or a facial, you know where I am.”
“I do and thank you Bets.”
“What for, I haven’t done anything?”
“You made my brother happy for the last few days of his life, so you definitely did something.”
Emma’s words brought tears to Bets' eyes, as she followed her back through the salon. Emma stopped in the doorway and turned to face her.
“Well bye Bets, and take care.”
“You too, and look after yourself as well as your mum and dad.”
“I will,” she said, and disappeared into the drizzle outside.
“Are you okay Bets?” Cheryl asked, standing at the reception desk, a handful of tissues at the ready.
“I’m fine,” she replied, looking down at the parcel still tightly clenched in her hand. “It’s been worse for her, much worse,” she whispered as she made her way back to the staff room.
Once she was sat at the table, Bets allowed herself to look at the label on the parcel.
To Bets,
I told you that I would buy you something nice,
Stuart xx
Bets ripped open the wrapping paper, inside was a long thin box, with a picture of Big Ben on the front. She carefully opened it up and pulled out a garish plastic model, with a sticky label clock face. Her face broke into a huge smile and then her quite laughter got louder and louder.
“Oh Stuart,” she sighed. “You do make me laugh.” Then as she wiped away the stray tears falling down her cheeks, she placed the plastic model on top of the filing cabinet where she could see it every day.
Across town, in one of the local pubs, Kerry was enjoying a lunchtime drink, at least she was having a drink. Although, enjoying it perhaps wasn't the correct phrase. She looked across at Caroline, flirting with a man old enough to be her grandfather, never mind her father. The table was full of empty glasses, proof that Caroline had what it took to con an old man out of a few quid. Kerry felt a hot sticky breath on her neck; she turned to the slightly younger, slightly drunker friend of Caroline’s benefactor, leering ominously over her shoulder at her cleavage.
“Yes, what do you want?” she demanded.
“Cracking set you’ve have there, perhaps I could buy you a couple of drinks in exchange for an introduction.” His brown, cracked teeth flashed in front of Kerry’s face as he moved closer.
She stopped him with the palm of her hand against his chest. “I don’t think so.” Kerry turned slowly away, her face contorted with disgust.
“Go on Kerry,” was the shout from across the sticky, red patterned carpet. “Barry isn’t that bad, is he Eric?” Caroline turned toward her companion and ruffled his greasy, grey hair.
“Nah,” he barely uttered, as he lolled drunkenly against her.
“No thanks, I do have some pride,” Kerry muttered. She pushed away her glass. Something had clicked inside her head, and Kerry realised what she had subconsciously known for days; this was not where she wanted to be, or what she wanted to do.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Caroline demanded, now sounding fairly sober.
“What?” Kerry asked, reaching behind for her jacket.
“You heard, what was that supposed to mean, you having some pride?”
“Oh shut up Caroline, just drink the free drinks and enjoy yourself, I’m off home.” Kerry began to walk toward the door. As she passed Caroline, Kerry felt an iron grip upon her arm, she turned slowly, and Caroline’s red, sweaty, face full of spite stared up at her. Her yellow, nicotine stained teeth were pressed together, beneath thin, mean lips.
“Take it back, bitch,” she hissed.
Kerry knew that this was a way of life for Caroline, chatting up old blokes for drinks and spending all day in the pub, smoking and guzzling, and she had criticised it. Kerry could guarantee that in two, three or even thirty years’ time, Caroline would still be here; however, Kerry knew that she couldn’t and wouldn’t be.
“Look Caroline, I didn’t mean anything by it, if you took offence, I’m sorry, but he seriously isn’t my type. Now if you don’t mind letting go of my arm, I honestly would like to go home.”
Reluctantly, Caroline let go, and tutting loudly turned her attention back to Eric, who was swaying precariously as he reached inside his pocket for more money.
“Come on Eric, let’s get another drink, she’s been boring for the last couple of weeks anyway.
As she turned to leave Kerry shook her head, wondering and worrying where the young girl was going to end up in life, but hopefully, if it wasn’t too late, Kerry wouldn’t be joining her.
Charlotte had dreaded the office door opening all day, fearful that Niall would come in with some smart remark, but it was nearly time to go home, and he hadn’t made an appearance; hopefully, she was safe now until after the Christmas holidays. As she thought about the previous day’s debacle, Charlotte coloured up involuntarily, how could she have been so stupid to try and kid him? In fact, why had she been so stupid? It had all started because of Grant, not wanting him to know that she was still single, but it really didn’t matter anymore. She didn’t care what that Capri driving idiot thought. Charlotte was wondering how she got herself into such messes when Gwen came in, singing her own peculiar rendition, of ‘I Don’t Like Mondays.
“Oooh, tell me why, tell me why?” she screeched.
“Please, Gwen, do tell me why you are singing like that, and by the way, it’s Thursday?” Charlotte asked, a smile creeping across her face as she looked at Gwen.
Gwen was wearing her usual man-made fibre ensemble, including the day’s speciality, a knitted, patchwork waistcoat, topped off with a red and white Santa hat, complete with flashing bobble.
She grinned back at Charlotte, stopping momentarily to fish the back of her skirt out of her knickers. She walked towards Charlotte. “I bet you’re pleased aren’t you?” She asked, as she plonked herself down on the vacant chair next to Charlotte’s desk.
“Sorry, what are you talking about Gwen?” Used to Gwen’s ramblings, Charlotte dropped her head and carried on working.
“The Irish bloke visiting again.”
Now her attention was well and truly grabbed. “What? When? I mean, so what, who cares?”
“Well I think you do.” Gwen smiled as she swung around on her chair.
“Oh please, for your information – AGAIN, I’m not interested.” Charlotte shook her head disdainfully, trying desperately not to look as though she was.
Gwen looked around to check that Bobby and Laura were busy, then leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially in Charlotte’s ear. “Charlotte, the cards do not lie. I have seen that there is a deep attraction there.”
“Yes Gwen, there is, he has a deep attraction for himself,” whispered Charlotte in turn.
Gwen shook her head. “No I’m sorry, but you cannot fight it. There will not be an easy ride, but your destiny does lie with each other, I’m afraid.” With that she gave a big stage wink and wandered off, shimmying to her version of The Boomtown Rats.
By six o'clock, everyone else had gone from the office, and Charlotte was now packing up, ready to leave. Since Gwen’s announcement, at ten minutes to five, there had been no sign of Niall Devine. Charlotte was beginning to wonder whether Gwen had, in fact, dreamt him being there, she smiled, considering whether she would be like that when she reached her fifties.
Charlotte was so busy planning her fifty plus wardrobe that she didn’t notice the figure stood next to her desk. As she leaned over to turn off her computer, Charlotte noticed a navy blue trouser leg, distinctly expensive and well cut. She almost threw up over it when she realised who it belonged to.
“Oh hello,” she whispered, the colour rising. “What can I do for you?�
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“Nothing as such, I’d like to ask you about yesterday.” Niall did not look happy.
“I’m sorry,” exclaimed Charlotte, her dander suddenly very up. “What is there to talk about?”
“I would have thought that was obvious, it was quite a scene.” Niall now had his arms folded firmly across his chest.
“Yes, a scene where I admit made a total fool of myself, but I’m not really sure why we need to discuss it.” Charlotte now stood up, but the effect was negligible; he was six feet at least, and she was only five feet six. Nevertheless, she carried on regardless. “I’m sorry but who do you think you are?” she asked, hands on hips.
“I happen to represent one of your biggest clients, and as such I feel I should receive a much more professional level of service,” he replied, calmly.
“Admittedly, but you are a client, if anyone should tell me how to behave, then it should be Paul. I certainly haven’t seen him in here giving me a roasting, so why should you?” Charlotte was now in full flow and had no intentions of stopping, even if her lungs depended on it. “What exactly are you annoyed about, the fact that I lied about having a fiancé, or that you fell for it. Maybe it’s because I don’t fawn all over you, like the rest of the people in this building.”
Niall shook his head disdainfully. “Finished? Only I have a few words for you too. Firstly, I do feel that I have a right to speak to you about your behaviour. If you knew anything about business, you would know that the client is king, and should be treated accordingly. Ever since I brought my business here you have thrown snide comments, ignored me whenever possible, embarrassed me in a restaurant that I use frequently for business lunches and, to top it all, I’ve seen your underwear twice, how professional do you think all that makes you? I have ploughed a lot of my boss’s money into this company, so if I don’t feel that the people responsible can hack it, then obviously I’m going to be worried. If you go down subsequently so do I.” Charlotte opened her mouth to speak, but Niall simply held up his hand in defiance. “Luckily Paul knows what is what, so I don’t really have to worry on that score, but if you really want to step into his shoes, then you have got a lot of growing up to do. How professional, and grown up is it to pretend that you have a fiancé. No least to try and rope your brother into it, were you worried that I would tell Grant, is that it?” He now hit a nerve, and Charlotte lowered her head in shame. “I thought so, very mature.”