‘Can men and women be friends?’ Channy asks.
‘Of course they can,’ I reply.
‘But can they?’ she persists. ‘Doesn’t someone always want to bang someone?’
‘I have plenty of male friends I don’t want to bang,’ I tell her, borrowing her phrase.
‘Ah, but do they feel the same?’ Dean asks. ‘Or do they want to bang you?’
‘OK, we all need to stop saying “bang”,’ I insist uncomfortably. Having Doris in the room sometimes feels like hanging out with my gran and I’m not sure we should be saying ‘bang’ in front of her. Then again, she has been on Tinder.
‘I do love the movie but the question of whether men and woman can be friends is a pointless one,’ I start. ‘If a woman wants to be friends and a man wants more, that still equals friendship. If a man wants to be friends with a woman who wants to be more than friends, that still doesn’t equal anything more than friendship. It’s all about being what you are comfortable being. Perhaps it is harder, to be friends with someone who you fancy, but that’s on you. Don’t punish your friend for not being sexually attracted to you.’
‘Yeah, that’s fair enough,’ Dean agrees.
‘I always seem to develop crushes on my female friends,’ Toby says. ‘But sometimes I think it’s just because they talk to me. They never fancy me though.’
‘You could still have already met the person who is right for you,’ I tell him. ‘You keep your eyes open; they could be right under your nose.’
I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. I take it out and see that I have a message from Will saying that it had slipped his mind when we spoke earlier, but that he said he’d go visit his auntie tonight. He needs to take a rain check on our dinner date.
I glare at my phone suspiciously, as though it were the phone that just bailed on me.
‘Can I borrow you?’ Dean asks me. ‘Just for a few minutes. I have a personal question.’
‘Oh, OK, sure,’ I say.
Dean wheels me away from the group and into the small storage room attached to the function room. The door has been left open, since someone set our chairs out for us.
‘What’s wrong?’ I ask.
‘What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?’ he replies.
Oh, for God’s sake, I’d forgotten about his sixth sense.
‘What?’
‘You saw something on your phone and your brow furrowed, your face fell, and I can tell by your body language you wanted to throw your phone across the room,’ he says. ‘Now, I’ve wanted to throw a few phones in my time, but only when something has been up.’
I let out the breath I’ve been holding in for God knows how long.
‘I called Will, asked him to dinner … He said yes on the phone but now that I think about it, he didn’t sound all that enthusiastic. Now he’s texted back and given me some excuse about seeing his auntie tonight.’
‘Do you believe him?’ Dean asks.
‘I would be inclined to say no but … is this just because my ex cheated on me? Am I being overly sensitive?’
‘You could ask him.’
‘Ah, but if he’s telling the truth I’ll think he’s lying, and if he’s lying he’ll be, well, y’know, lying, so …’
‘OK, there’s only one thing for it,’ Dean says. ‘Stakeout. Tonight.’
‘What?’
‘We’ll watch him, follow him, see if he goes to see his auntie. If he does then you’ve got to stop worrying about it and get on with your life. If he doesn’t, well, at least you’ll know.’
‘You’d do that for me?’ I ask.
‘What, sort out your love life? It’s only what you’re doing for me,’ he replies. ‘Someone has to sort out of the love life of the person who sorts out people’s love lives.’
I laugh.
‘Anyway, you were right with what you said before. Men and women can be friends.’
‘Thank you,’ I reply.
I feel like a crazy person, needing to know the answer, but my trust has been knocked and I don’t know how to fix it. I just need to learn to trust people, but I need people to be trustworthy too, and that’s on them.
If Will doesn’t go to see his auntie then at least I’ll know and I can stop wasting my time on him. Either way, I’m sort of looking forward to going on a stakeout with a real policeman, even if it’s just to catch a cheater rather than a serial killer.
Chapter 26
Have you ever watched a slasher movie? Most often a beautiful, scantily clad, blonde bimbo will hear a bump in the night when she’s home alone and instead of doing the smart thing and calling the cops she will go downstairs in the dark to check it out, and it’s a movie, so it is almost certainly going to be something grisly. In situations like that the smart thing to do is stay where it’s safe rather than risk walking in on something nasty …
Well, I have called the cops, but rather than sit pretty and hope everything is OK, I’m out here in the dark, in Dean’s car, hoping there’s nothing grisly waiting for me around the corner.
‘We need to talk about what you think police stakeouts are like,’ Dean says.
‘Why?’ I ask curiously.
‘Let’s just say movies have a lot to answer for.’
OK, so maybe I had my mum make us up two thermos flasks of coffee, and I brought sandwiches and doughnuts, but it’s winter and I figured we’d be hungry.
‘Oh, the doughnuts aren’t a police-based dig,’ I point out. ‘They just go well with the coffee. And the sandwiches are from my mum. I told her we were going on an evening winter picnic. I made up something about how I was testing your endurance as a boyfriend.’
‘I think that would be a different test,’ he replies.
‘I do too, but my leg is broken,’ I joke.
The surgery is open until 7 p.m. today, for people who commute to jobs outside of the village and can’t make appointments during work hours. So we’re parked across the street from the car park, waiting for Dr Will to emerge so that we can follow him – hopefully to his auntie’s house, where I will kick myself (at least I would if I could) and remind myself to trust people. Just because a man hurt me, doesn’t mean all men are going to turn on me. Then again, if you’re always stubbing your toe on the bed, you’re going to be a little wary of beds.
‘Oh, damn, I meant to ask you to bring your Savage Garden for the trip,’ he says sarcastically.
‘Oh, you clocked that, did you?’
‘I did,’ he says. ‘I’m very observant.’
‘Not that I feel like I need to justify my taste to a man who is wearing double denim,’ I start. ‘But not only was that a CD I got when I was probably about twelve, they’re actually a decent pop band. One of the best.’
‘Doubling down, I like your confidence,’ he says. ‘What’s in that bag?’
‘Oh, just the twenty-seven bags of crisps my mum sent for our fake picnic,’ I reply.
‘Twenty-seven?’
‘There are actually five, I think. She sent flavour options.’
‘I love crisps,’ Dean says. ‘I bet you I can identify all five flavours.’
I laugh. ‘Really?’
‘Yeah, really,’ he says. ‘Come on, try me.’
I smile at him. I get the feeling he’s only doing this to distract me. It is torture, sitting here, waiting to see if the guy I like is lying to me. I might as well play his game.
‘OK, sure,’ I reply. ‘But they’re from my mum so they’re just going to be your standard flavours, no berry and Prosecco or lamb and mint sauce.’
‘Hit me,’ he demands.
I reach into the Bag for Life between my feet, carefully open a packet of crisps and remove just one. Dean opens his mouth and gestures for me to pop one in. I do, weird as it is to be feeding him.
‘Prawn cocktail,’ he says confidently.
‘I feel like this is too easy,’ I admit as I riffle through the bags. But then I see one that might just catch him out. ‘Ooh, OK,
try this one.’
‘I’m tasting onion,’ he says through a mouthful of crisps. ‘But not cheese and onion, not spring onion … pickled onion.’
‘My God,’ I blurt out in amazement. ‘You are actually good at this.’
‘I told you I was,’ he says. ‘I …’
As his voice trails off I follow his gaze through the windscreen that has steamed up a little. I can still see Will though, making his way from the surgery into his car.
‘What happens now?’ I ask.
‘We follow him,’ Dean says. ‘If you still want to … We could always just sit here and keep playing the crisp game.’
I appreciate him giving me the opportunity to bow out, but I have to know. I need to put my mind at rest or I’ll drive myself crazy.
‘Nah, let’s stick with the plan,’ I say. ‘When we realise that everything is fine, I’ll feed you every last crisp in this bag.’
‘As you wish,’ Dean says as he starts his engine.
‘How do you go about not being seen?’ I ask as I attempt to lower myself into my seat.
‘Well, normally when I’m following someone, I’ve learned a little of their routine, so I know if we’re heading to their home or their work,’ he explains. ‘You stay a few car distances away, avoid driving directly behind them, try not to copy their route exactly, change lanes if you can, give way to people. If people aren’t expecting to be followed, which I doubt your doctor will be, they’re not really looking for someone on their tail. I don’t drive a flash car; this one just kind of blends in. If it’s work, I’ll make use of the surveillance equipment, park in the opposite direction, use my mirrors – I don’t think any of that will be necessary tonight though. We’re just seeing where he’s going, right?’
‘Right,’ I say. ‘We’ll just see if he arrives at his auntie’s house and whether he does or he doesn’t, it will be easy to tell. I don’t exactly need to make a Kodak moment out of it.’
‘Right,’ Dean echoes. ‘And whatever we see, we’ll deal with.’
I bite my lip. He’s got me worried now. Does he think Will is lying to me? How could he know? He hasn’t met him, so it’s not like he’s done his creepy detective analysis of his body language and the tone of his voice.
‘Looks like he’s slowing down,’ Dean says. He pulls up across the road from the little cottage Will has stopped outside. ‘That’s Sunflower B & B.’
‘Chances his auntie lives in a B & B?’ I ask softly.
‘You do,’ he points out.
‘Hmm.’
He messes around in his car for a few seconds before getting out and approaching the door. He’s only halfway up the garden path when the door opens and a woman emerges. She hurries over to Will, wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him passionately. I want to look away; every fibre of my being wants to look away. I feel like I’m staring at an eclipse. I know I shouldn’t be looking. It’s detrimental to my health to be looking. Still, I can’t make myself look away.
‘So, chances that’s his auntie?’ I ask pointlessly.
‘It’s looking pretty slim,’ Dean replies.
As Will ushers the woman into his car I recognise her. It’s his ex-girlfriend. She just had to come back into his life right now, at the same time as me. I don’t suppose I stood a chance. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not blaming her at all. She probably doesn’t even remember me. Will should have been honest with me. I don’t know if he was ever going to have dinner with me but then got a better offer, or if he was always going to call and bail on me. I suppose either way, he would have broken it to me eventually.
‘You want me to follow them?’ Dean asks as they drive away, starting up his car and putting it into gear.
‘Nah,’ I reply. ‘I don’t really need to see any more. That was pretty clear.’
Dean shuffles in his seat. I don’t think it’s the chair that is uncomfortable though, I think it’s the situation.
‘Lola, I’m so sorry,’ he says placing a hand on my shoulder. He gives it a squeeze.
‘Meh,’ I reply. I don’t want to cry in front of him. ‘It’s just men, isn’t it? Well, some men. Always on the lookout for something better or unable to turn it down, blah blah blah.’
‘You’ve just got to know that we’re not all like that,’ he says. ‘I, for example, completely leave women alone.’
A half laugh slips out. ‘I should probably go home,’ I say. ‘We’ve got an early group meeting tomorrow.’
I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach. I somehow feel even worse than I did when I found out about Patrick … I suppose it’s because I told Will what I’d just been through and he was so sympathetic. Excellent bedside manner, but it was all an act. I just feel like such an idiot. I knew it was too soon to be moving on but I did it anyway. I suppose I thought it would distract me, and I had this stupid, romantic notion that we were meant to be together and, you know, in the words of When Harry Met Sally, when you find that person you want to spend the rest of your life with, you want the rest of your life to start straight away.
‘Yeah, of course,’ Dean says. ‘I’ll take you home now.’
‘Thanks.’
As we drive along the causeway in the pitch black, I look out to sea. There’s nothing there though, just dark, empty space. It doesn’t feel like a world to be explored or a dangerous freezing cold sea, it’s just black. The end of the movie.
‘I really am sorry,’ Dean says. ‘At least you have our group of misfits to keep you busy, eh?’
‘Yeah,’ I reply. ‘Thanks.’
I suppose he’s right but the last thing I want to do is help other people find love now. Well, what’s the point? Doesn’t it always end in tears?
Chapter 27
I woke up feeling blissfully happy. It only lasted for a moment before reality kicked in, a matter of seconds, but it felt wonderful. For those first few seconds I was awake, I thought I was back in London and that nothing had changed. Then I tried to roll over and it felt like my leg was stuck in a bear trap. I’m not in my lovely flat, working my dream job, with my handsome boyfriend and army of fabulous friends. I’m here, in agony, with absolutely nothing going for me. My friends aren’t my friends anymore – if they ever even were. With my job and my money and my boyfriend, I just fit into the bullshit lifestyle they all live for. As soon as the things that made me fit in with their way of life started to vanish, no one wanted me around anymore. Patrick wanted someone on his arm (and absolutely not in a wheelchair). My friends wanted someone to look sexy in their Instagram snaps. I can see them all online, across various social media accounts, living their best lives, and it’s like they’ve forgotten I exist. No one has even sent me a message to see if I’m OK.
What a life I had. I thought I had everything but it was all superficial bullshit. And now, when I’m better, what do I do? Do I go back and resume my role? How can I? I want friends I can rely on, not friends who will drop me as soon as I can’t go clubbing anymore.
Everything is getting to me today. I appreciate my mum dressing me but, my God, today it felt even more demoralising than ever. I feel like such a stupid, pointless baby. How is this my life? How am I even an adult? People my age have houses and husbands and kids and pets and responsibilities and what do I have? My mum dressing me, my friends bailing on me, men treating my life like trash.
‘You OK?’ Kim asks me.
‘What?’ I reply, snapping out of my little bubble of doom.
‘Are you OK?’ she asks again. ‘You’ve just sat there in silence for about five minutes.’
I glance around the room dopily, taking in my surroundings. ‘Yes, sorry, I was just thinking …’
I fall silent again. How on earth am I supposed to find these people love when I’m questioning if it even exists right now. You think people feel something for you, whether it’s your partner or your friends, and then you realise it was nothing. A pure fabrication. Maybe even a projection on my part – I thought everyone loved me for me.
‘Do we think she needs to see a doctor?’ Doris asks.
‘Maybe,’ Channy replies. ‘Just make sure it’s not Will bloody Coleman.’
My eyes dart in Dean’s direction. I shoot him an angry look. I can’t believe he’s been gossiping about me. I’m about to say something when he gives me a subtle shrug, as if to tell me he hasn’t said a word.
‘Why wouldn’t we call Will?’ Kim asks. She works with him, after all. ‘Today is his day off, anyway.’
‘Because he’s a dick,’ Channy says. ‘I don’t want to ruin the good doctor for anyone, but he’s the older guy I was seeing. The one who was messing me around, cheating on me, treating me like crap. I’m so much happier for dumping him.’
‘Will was the guy you were with?’ I ask.
‘Yeah.’
‘Didn’t you only break up with him like two days ago?’
‘Yeah,’ she replies. ‘When I found a blonde hair in his bed, I knew he must still be at it.’
‘Probably just need a painkiller, don’t you?’ Dean suggests. ‘I’ll take you for one, and you’ll need to eat, right? I should make you a sandwich. Is everyone free for a while? Why don’t we reconvene in an hour? After lunch?’
I assume everyone is happy with this, but I don’t pay attention. The cogs are turning in my head and my mood is shifting from one of self-pity to something a little more vengeful.
‘Well, that’s a plot twist,’ Dean says once we’re in the privacy of the kitchen. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘I’m going to call Will,’ I say. ‘Invite him over, have a chat.’
‘I’m not telling you how to get away with murder,’ Deans insists.
‘You won’t need to,’ I reply. ‘I’ve got a much worse torture in mind for Dr Love.’
Make or Break at the Lighthouse B & B Page 15