“Hi,” he said, his voice croaky. He shifted over to the edge of the bed. He’d actually have to get up now, which just made the whole hangover even worse.
Becky snuggled closer, and Charlie found the strength to hop out of bed before his head started throbbing again.
“Well, another busy day,” he hinted, shuffling toward his chest of drawers. His flat above the restaurant had never been large, but today it felt positively miniscule. It certainly wasn’t the home he’d imagined having when he moved to Aberarian. No, that was the cottage. With Becky. Charlie considered. All things being equal, even if Becky wasn’t in the flat, he’d still rather be in his kitchen right now. Maybe Magda knew some miracle Polish hangover cure. They drank a lot of vodka over there, didn’t they?
The chest of drawers yielded up some clean underwear, but Charlie suspected his favorite jeans, the ones he’d put on for the pub the night before, were in the lounge. He had a vague recollection of Becky stripping them off him the moment they made it through the door. More worryingly, he suspected his top had been gone before that. What had he been thinking? This, Charlie was certain, was not the best way to persuade an ex-girlfriend it was over. With a small shudder, he made his way through to the lounge.
As he stepped into his jeans, Charlie looked back and saw Becky had followed him. She was lounging in the doorway to the bedroom, draped only in the thin blanket he kept at the end of his bed for colder nights. This was not going to go well.
“Um, Becky. About last night…”
But Becky surprised him. Slinking closer, she pressed a finger to his lips and said, “It was what it was. We don’t need to talk about it now.”
Charlie stepped out of her reach. “Uh, that’s good.” He struggled into a clean t-shirt and considered risking returning to the bedroom for socks, but decided it was too dangerous. “Because, um, I’ve got work to do. Lots of work. Breakfasts, probably.” What time was it anyway? Would Magda and Kevin already be hard at work downstairs, ready to glare at him when he appeared?
“That’s fine,” Becky said, her voice calm and serene. “I should get back to the hotel myself, actually.” She dropped the blanket, and even Charlie couldn’t help but watch her magnificent naked form as she sashayed through the door and bent to gather up her clothes.
Then he blinked and shoved his bare feet into his trainers. This was his chance to get away, while everything was still nice and only slightly disturbing.
“Besides,” Becky went on, straightening up and turning to face him again. “I’ll see you tomorrow night for dinner with Mia and Tony, anyway.”
And there it was. With mounting horror, Charlie remembered the previous night’s arrangement. He still didn’t remember agreeing to it, but that didn’t really matter. He’d slept with Becky last night, and however stupid it might have been, he couldn’t now stand her up in front of their friends. Especially since the meal was at his restaurant.
Oh God, what am I going to cook?
“That’s right,” he said, edging in the direction of the door. “And I’d better go and decide what to feed you all.”
Becky smiled at him, her clothes piled in her arms. “Lovely. And I’ll just…get myself cleaned up before I go.”
Charlie was nodding manically now, but he did have the door open, which was something. “Absolutely. Make yourself at home. You know where everything is…” She had, after all, lived there for three months.
And then he was out the door and on his way to freedom. But his relief was short lived. As Charlie closed the door behind him, he saw Becky reach into her handbag and pull out a toothbrush. Why did she pack a toothbrush for a night at the pub?
Heading down the stairs to the restaurant, he figured out it. She’d planned this all along. And the worst part was, he wasn’t even very surprised.
The thing to remember about Becky, he told himself sternly, is that she’s manipulative, confident, and very determined to get what’s hers.
Which led him to the question: what did she want this time? And how could he convince her it wasn’t him?
* * * *
It seemed monumentally wrong to be wandering around a junior school with a hangover. Still, Mia sat outside Miss Leonora Evans’s Year Six classroom, waiting for the teacher to finish explaining to the kids who their visitor was, hoping against hope she wasn’t using the phrase crazy lady.
The classroom door opened, and Leonora’s pretty blond bob appeared, topping a patently false smile. “The children are ready for you now, Mia.”
Mia returned an equally fake grin. Leonora Evans had never liked her, ever since she’d dated Daniel Price in sixth form, when he was new in town and before he learned that if he wanted any other friends he’d better stay away from Mia Page. Mia was pretty sure Leonora had been the one to explain it to him. She’d started dating him a week or so later, but apparently never got over the fact Mia’d had him first.
Mia gathered her papers and got to her feet. “Excellent,” she said, following the schoolteacher into the classroom.
It went about as badly as she’d expected, to start with. The moment Leonora said, “Children, this is Miss Mia Page,” a snotty nosed boy at the back of the class asked, “Wasn’t your dad...”
“Yes,” Mia interrupted, hoping to head that particular line of enquiry off at the pass. “Now, I’m here today to talk to you about how you can get involved in helping save the Coliseum Cinema by taking part in this year’s Fish and Film Festival.”
“Never go to it anyway,” the boy at the back said. “Coliseum’s rubbish. We go to the Odeon over in Coed-y-Capel.”
A girl in one of the front rows turned round to ask, “Do they do nachos there? My brother says...” and then the room descended into an ice cream and hot dogs debate while Mia looked desperately at Leonora for help.
Miss Evans shrugged, a very sweet smile on her face.
Right. Time for Plan B.
Ditsy hadn’t had anything on Leonora Evans. “Wrong generation,” she’d said, her voice glum, when Mia had asked. “I just can’t keep up any more.”
Jacques hadn’t been any more forthcoming. “Subscribes to all those celebrity mags. Other than that...” He shrugged. “Just the usual bills and flyers.”
But it was enough to get Mia thinking, so she’d switched on her computer and checked and, after some creative searching, she’d confirmed that, sure enough, in a bid to win the popularity contest of the internet, Leonora had her own webpage and blog. AppleForTheTeacher.co.uk was full of interesting tidbits about the school, the pupils and local goings-on. There were even some fascinating photos from the staff Christmas night out.
Mia sidled up to Leonora’s desk and, perching on the edge, said, “You know, I’ve been meaning to tell you how much I enjoy your blog. You really should promote it more. I think the kids would find it so helpful to know their teacher is only human.”
Leonora stiffened and got to her feet, clapping her hands together loudly. “All right now, that’s enough. Now we’re going to listen to Miss Page and then we’re going to talk about how we want to help at the festival.”
Mia smiled as the classroom quieted down. All back on track.
* * * *
Having spent the past two days alternatively fretting about the dinner that night and cursing himself for sleeping with Becky again, actually cooking the meal itself was surprisingly restful. He’d gone for comfort food in the end. God knew he needed it.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and serve?” Magda asked, her coat already half on.
Charlie shook his head. “I wouldn’t subject anybody else to this misery.”
Magda gave him an amused smile, which turned sympathetic as she opened the kitchen doors. Abandoning his starter prep, Charlie peered out to see Becky approaching, slipping her black velvet coat off her shoulders.
“Who wears velvet in June?” Magda murmured. “Are you sure?”
“Go,” Charlie said, and she went, taking and hanging Becky’s c
oat on her way.
Becky leaned against the kitchen doors. “Something smells delicious.”
“Fish pie,” Charlie said. “It’s already in the oven. I’m just...”
“Oh good.” Becky grabbed his arm. “Then you can come and have a drink with me while we wait for the others.”
Charlie was already into the main restaurant before he could think his way through the menu. The calamari starter couldn’t be cooked until everyone was there, anyway. And he did deserve a gin and tonic.
As he poured, Charlie considered the best way to say what he knew he had to. On the one hand, if he got it wrong, Becky would sulk all night and make dinner a misery for everyone. But too far the other way and Becky might get an erroneous idea about their future.
Becky settled her hand on his thigh the moment he sat down on the bar stool next to her, and Charlie decided to go with the tried and tested.
“Look, Bex. About the other night.”
A secretive smile began to spread across her face, and she splayed her fingers against his leg, reaching higher. “Fun, wasn’t it.”
“It was fun,” Charlie allowed. “I’m just not so sure it was a good idea.”
“Really?” Becky slid off her stool and rested between his legs, both palms now hot against his jeans. “I thought it was a very good idea.”
He was supposed to be confronting her, he knew. He was supposed to be asking her what she was planning. But her red dress was strapless, and oh God, she was going to kiss him again and he really didn’t want her to...
Just as Charlie put his hands to Becky’s shoulders to push her away, the restaurant door opened, and Mia stood in the doorway, her mouth ever so slightly open. Behind her, Tony was frowning.
“So sorry to interrupt,” Tony said. “Are we early?”
* * * *
Charlie left Becky to deal with her guests, muttering something about the starters, and hightailed it into the kitchen while he tried to remember what he was supposed to be cooking. He pulled out his favorite frying pan, grabbed a dish full of calamari and marinade from the fridge, and was halfway through heating the oil when the kitchen door creaked open just enough for Mia to slip through the gap.
“What’s going on here?” Mia asked without preamble, her tone more astonished than curious. “Really?”
Charlie shook his head as he dropped the rings of seafood into the hot oil. “Haven’t the foggiest,” he lied, hating himself. “She says she wants to spend time with me.”
Mia was quiet for a moment before saying, “You’re getting back together with her, aren’t you?”
Charlie turned to look at her, where she stood, door behind her, arms wrapped around his favorite of her tea dresses–pale pink roses blooming over a navy background. She looked as tired as he felt, and he wondered what would happen if he just kissed her. If he just told her how he felt.
She wasn’t ready. But he was sick of being patient. So what he actually said was, “What does it matter if I am?” Meaning, ‘what does it matter to you?’
Mia blinked. “What does it matter? Charlie, of course it matters! Don’t you remember...” She shook her head. “Of course you do. You know what she did to you. And you’re going to get together with her anyway, aren’t you?”
He wasn’t, Charlie was almost certain. Not while he had a say in the matter. Of course Becky wasn’t always the best at hearing the word no when she didn’t want to.
But, then, why shouldn’t he? Becky was making a real effort. She planned to stay in town. She seemed genuine this time. And he had loved her, hadn’t he? He’d been crazy about her, once. Was it so absurd to consider a second chance?
He shook his head. It was still pretty absurd.
Charlie realized he hadn’t given Mia an answer at the same time she decided he wasn’t going to. “Charlie...” She paused, apparently searching for just the right words to convince him. “I know you loved her. I just think you’d be making a terrible mistake if you get back together with her. And as your friend, I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”
It was perfectly reasonable. Hell, Charlie even agreed with her. But that didn’t stop the anger bubbling up inside him at her words. Because who was she to tell him what might hurt him when, it turned out, hearing her say she wasn’t ready was more painful than anything Becky had done lately?
Charlie gave the frying pan a vicious shake, knowing the calamari were beyond overcooked. He’d serve them to Tony anyway, to watch the other man try to chew the rubber bands, except he had too much professional pride. He’d have to start again. “My love life is none of your business.”
“I’m your best friend, and your happiness isn’t my business?” Mia asked.
Charlie tossed the pan into the sink, sending loops of squid flying across the surface. “These are ruined.” He moved to the fridge and yanked open the door, pulling out an emergency tray of calamari.
When he turned, Mia already had the kitchen door open. “I’ll stop disturbing you, then,” she said, and Charlie knew she was putting as much distance between them as she could. Knew that even if she was ever ready, she might not be ready for him.
He selected his second best frying pan with a sigh and wished like hell the night was over already.
* * * *
Back in the restaurant, Becky was behind the counter, just as if she’d never left, leafing through Charlie’s reservations book and tutting. Tony was at the bar, sipping on a gin and tonic. Mia headed straight for the chiller and poured herself a large glass of wine.
“Charlie’s just finishing off the starters,” she said, settling on her stool.
Becky shut the book and made her way over to Mia and Tony. Mia tried to ignore the way Becky’s scarlet dress swept across her perfect figure and wished she’d thought to dress up more than the clean tea dress and cardigan she’d thrown on at the last minute.
She’d been right, she knew now, not to take Charlie’s advances too seriously. He’d been drunk and upset and confused. And maybe Joe was right. Maybe she wasn’t ready.
God knew Charlie clearly wasn’t.
There was only one table laid in the place. It was about halfway down, quite near to the kitchen doors, and the crisp white linens and silver cutlery shone in the candlelight.
It was almost romantic. Mia bit back a laugh.
Finally the kitchen doors opened and Charlie appeared, a familiar figure in his jeans and soft cotton shirt, open at the neck, and an apron wrapped twice around his waist.
“Grub’s up.” He dumped the plates on the table. “Let’s get this over with.”
Mia winced, making her way to her seat, watching Charlie’s broad shoulders retreating into the kitchen for the other two plates. Tony and Becky, however, seemed to ignore his bad mood entirely and were still chattering while they settled at the table.
It should have been more comfortable, sitting at the table in the candlelight, with the usual trappings of napkins and cloths and a large glass of white wine. Still, Mia couldn’t help but feel the emptiness of the rest of the restaurant pressing in on them. Charlie appeared to have developed a permanent frown line across his forehead, ever since Becky reminded him to remove his apron before coming to the table. Mia almost felt sorry for him.
“The calamari was delicious,” she told him as they finished up the starters. Charlie looked up in surprise but not anger, and Mia felt something loosen inside her.
“It was surprisingly good,” Tony admitted.
“Didn’t I tell you?” Becky said, even though she’d barely touched her plate, and the table lapsed into silence again.
“Glad you liked it,” Charlie said, disappearing back to the kitchen for the main course. Mia watched him go and wished she could escape with him.
Tony leaned across the table and smiled at Mia. “So, how are the festival plans going?”
“Very well.” Mia reached for her wine glass. “The local school children are very enthusiastic.” Or they would be by the time Leonora Evans was
finished with them.
“It is really for the children, though, isn’t it,” Becky said, toying with her dessert spoon. “I mean, there isn’t anything there for the parents.” She looked up at Mia and smiled. “And only a child could think it’ll do enough to save this town.”
Before Mia could even formulate a reply, the kitchen doors banged open again and Charlie slapped another couple of plates down on the table.
“Fish pie!” Becky said with a small squeal of excitement. “My favorite.”
They ate mostly in silence again, which gave Mia time to consider her options. Did she want to lose Charlie as a friend, even if he was dating the bitch from hell? No. Did she really think Becky was going to stick around this time anyway? No.
She sighed, dropping her fork onto her empty plate, unable to even remember eating her meal. Charlie gave her a funny look from his side of the table.
Chances were, Becky was going to break his heart again. Which mean he would need Mia more than ever. Which meant...
Across the table, Charlie shoved his chair out and stood. “I’ll go and get the desserts...”
Mia grabbed her empty plate, and Tony’s, and made to follow. “I’ll help you,” she said, ignoring the bafflement on Charlie’s face. She wasn’t being left alone with Becky and Tony again.
* * * *
Charlie could feel the warmth of Mia’s skin behind him as she followed him into the kitchen, and it was a very welcome distraction from Becky secretive smiles and sideways glances at the dinner table. He just wished he knew where he stood now.
The door swung shut behind them, and Charlie headed straight for the fridge to retrieve the lemon mousse dessert. There wasn’t much to do except add berries, cream and icing sugar. Puddings weren’t really his thing; he’d rather an extra starter, most of the time. But Mia had a bit of a sweet tooth, and loved citrusy desserts, so of course he’d prepared one. This is getting a bit pathetic, Charlie boy.
“What do you think she was planning when she suggested this dinner?”
Charlie turned to see her perched up on the counter, swinging her legs, and he fell for her all over again. She belonged here, with him. And if he could only get rid of the two people sitting out in his restaurant...
An A to Z of Love Page 12