‘I don’t mind.’ I really want to watch The Voice but it is his television so I feel I should let him choose.
‘The Voice?’ he says, reading my mind.
I smile and flick around the channels until I find it and put it on. We watch and argue over who is the best singer but gradually lapse into a comfortable silence as tiredness overtakes us both. I never get to see the end of The Voice because the combination of a hot bath, a big meal and a hard day’s work means that I fall into a deep sleep.
‘Hey, sleepy head.’
I slowly open my eyes and stare into the eyes of Flynn who is gently shaking my shoulder. I stare at him in confusion, my brain still half asleep as I wonder who this gorgeous man is when he smiles and breaks the spell.
‘You’ve been asleep for the last hour. You probably ought to go to bed.’
‘Oh God, yeah, I was lost to the world there.’
‘it’s all that fresh air, I’m knackered, too.’
I haul myself out of the sofa and up the stairs, hoping that I wasn’t sleeping with my mouth hanging open and drooling.
Why? demands the Beccabird. Why would it matter?
It wouldn’t matter, I tell her, it’s just about standards.
I ignore her guffawing and after a pathetic attempt at brushing my teeth I fall contentedly into bed and have the best night’s sleep that I’ve had in a long time. As I drift off, I can’t help thinking that it was also the best evening that I’ve had in a long, long time.
I was going to pretend to be ill on Sunday so I didn’t have to go back to that house but Flynn said he could manage on his own if I didn’t want to go as we’d done so well with the pond. So I did lie a little bit and say I had a few things I had to do and if he was sure he was fine then I wouldn’t come.
So apart from the knickers it all worked out very well.
I keep thinking about those knickers – what will that woman think of me? Obviously she’ll think I’m disgusting but will she say anything to Flynn? If I was her I wouldn’t – but on the other hand I did make a hole in her wall.
What if she puts it on Facebook? I can imagine it – a photo of a wet pair of knickers with #dirtycow next to it. God, it doesn’t bear thinking about. Although I wouldn’t see it and there’s no way it could be connected to me. Unless Flynn’s a friend of hers on Facebook. I hope she doesn’t put it on his business Facebook page. Oh God.
She seemed quite posh and well to do so I’m just praying that she’s far too well bred to mention it to Flynn or put it on social media. I should have owned up straightaway and avoided all this but it’s too late
✽✽✽
Flynn didn’t come home on Sunday night so I guess he stayed at Steve’s. Or maybe he’s heard about the knickers and is avoiding me.
I’m so annoyed with myself, I seem to attract minor disasters and embarrassments although I try so hard not to. I do have more than my fair share of bad luck though, I mean, okay I lied to Em about not wanting her flat but people tell far worse lies than that all the time and get away with it. And the knickers – what’s the odds of forgetting them? Slim, I should think but somehow I managed it. Anyway, I can’t do anything about it now so I might as well just forget about it and put it out of my mind and hope for the best.
I’m hoping that my second week at Atkinsons is going to be better than the first. I feel a bit more settled in and have even chatted to some of the youngsters in the tea room when I’ve been making my morning coffee. They seem nice enough although not much interested in me, of course, due to my advanced age, but I think it’ll be okay working here.
As long as I keep out of Em’s way .
In a way I feel as if I’ve been here for years because the work is just the same, different people, same job. It’s not exactly taxing, either, I’m sure that I worked harder at Westchester but I’m not complaining.
When I arrived in the office this morning, I felt a bit more comfortable and not so standout new. Everyone seemed to spend the first half an hour chatting about their weekends and didn’t seem in any hurry to start work so Trina and I made ourselves a coffee and had a good catch up.
Just before lunchtime an email pops into my inbox; an essential office socialising event has been scheduled for Friday night and we’re all being encouraged to attend. It’s a ‘relaxed opportunity to meet your fellow Sales and Marketing colleagues to build a better relationship.’ We used to have these when I first started at Westchester but Atkinsons gave up after a while because no one could ever be bothered to go.
I turn to Trina who is staring at her screen without moving so I know she’s probably internet shopping.
‘Have you seen the email about the office socialising?’
‘No, just doing my big shop, hang on and I’ll have a look.’ A few clicks of the mouse and she quickly reads it.
‘Are you going?’ I ask.
‘Definitely, wouldn’t want to miss a free night out. You’ll come, won’t you? We could share a cab because I don’t live far from you.’
I’m pleased she’s said that because I don’t fancy going on my own.
‘I’ll go if you’re going,’ I say. ‘What actually happens at an essential office socialising event?’
‘It’s basically a pub crawl and everyone will go because Atkinsons will stump up for most of the booze. ’
‘Sounds good to me.’
‘It is, and you never know who’s going to get absolutely ratted and make a big show of themselves. It’s usually one of the youngsters and they have no shame at all. At the last one, Leah,’ she nods in the direction of a heavily made up nineteen-year-old seated halfway down the office, ‘Made a big play for the one of the salesmen who’s at least twice her age. She wasn’t a bit embarrassed the next week at work. Thought it was hilarious.’
Free booze; that sounds dangerous. I will go, I decide, but I won’t drink. I don’t want to be the one making a big show of myself.
The Beccabird laughs mockingly.
‘It’ll be this office,’ Trina goes on, ‘All the salesmen, who by the way, fancy themselves something rotten, and the whole of Marketing. So a big, big crowd. It’ll be a good opportunity for you to meet more people.’
‘Sounds good, I’m definitely up for it.’
‘Good. We’ve got all week to get our outfits sorted.’
‘I thought you said it was a pub crawl?’
‘It is but don’t let that fool you, everyone will want to look better than everyone else and I can guarantee you that apart from some of the men no one will be turning up in jeans and old jumpers. I’m going to treat myself to a new outfit, might get my hair done as well.’
I look at Trina’s perfect blonde hair piled into a messy updo; she always looks so smart and trendy – I haven’t seen her wear the same outfit twice yet.
‘Your hair always looks lovely. I wish I could do mine like that,’ I say.
‘Oh, thank you,’ she says, pleased with the compliment. ‘But I’m not kidding when I say everyone makes an effort.’ She leans over towards me and lowers her voice, ‘One year, Em even had hair extensions put in.’
‘No!’
‘It’s true – and they looked great too. Must have cost her an absolute fortune. But you know what – by the Monday morning they were gone; like they’d never existed.’
‘Really?’
Trina nods, wide eyed and mouths, ‘not normal .’
I laugh but I can’t help agreeing, hair extensions, for one night ?
‘I can put your hair up for you if you like. Come to mine a bit earlier and we’ll have a little drinky and I’ll do your hair.’
‘Oh, that’d be great, I can’t do a thing with it myself.’
‘And we can go out on Thursday lunchtime to look for our outfits,’ she lowers her voice, ‘I happen to know that Ed and Em are at a meeting in Bristol all day so we can take a longer lunch.’
‘Great.’ Although I feel a bit worried getting caught. ‘What if someone dobs us in though?’
Trina laughs her donkey bray laugh. ‘Listen, most of them will be at least an hour late so there’s no chance of that. While the cat’s away...’
✽✽✽
The next couple of days passed uneventfully and I didn’t see Flynn again until Wednesday night. He seemed quite normal towards me and he didn’t even mention the gardening job so I’m hoping I’ve got away with the knickers thing. We were chatting about nothing in particular quite normally and I kept checking his expression and he didn’t seem to be laughing at me so I think everything will be okay as long as I never see posh blonde woman again.
On Thursday lunchtime Trina and I went into the town centre to buy an outfit for Friday night. Atkinsons is so close to the shops that we walked there in about ten minutes so in a way I can see what they mean about the parking permits. Almost.
I had Flynn’s cash from the gardening job and I’d decided that I was going to blow it on a nice outfit. I’m really starting to look forward to this night out.
We went to a very chic boutique type shop off the precinct where Trina says she gets a lot of her clothes and after a lot of trying on I bought myself a very nice little black dress. The hundred pounds wasn’t enough but I thought, well, why not, it’s not as if I go out very often so I might as well get something really nice. It’s not too short but it has a nice swingy little skirt on it which shows off my best feature – my legs. The top is quite fitted and, though I say so myself, I do look quite good in it. Trina got some vivid pink fitted trousers with a strappy white top and it looks sensational on her; I wish I had the guts to carry off something like that.
Our lunch hour was nearly over but Trina said no way was she going to get back to work on time and waste the opportunity for a bit of skiving so we called into Joey’s cafe for a coffee and a cake. As we sat there I couldn’t help remembering that just a couple of weeks ago I’d stood across the road and pretended to make a phone call. I cringed inside as I remembered how I followed Jonathan. But worse than that was the gut-wrenching jealousy that I’d felt as I watched him kiss the woman in the window. How could I possibly feel jealous of Jonathan with another woman after everything he’d done to me?
He’d just have to snap his fingers and you’d be there.
Would I? Is the Beccabird right? Am I one of those women who always goes back for more no matter how badly they’re treated? I can’t blame the Beccabird for thinking that because I did go back for more seven years ago and I did it more than once. But I like to think that I’m different now, that I’ve changed and I won’t ever be treated like that again.
So why did you follow him? the Beccabird asks.
I ignore her.
It does worry me though; I was quite sure I’d got over him completely but as I hadn’t seen him for seven years I was under no temptation so I couldn’t test how I felt.
Can I really be sure that I won’t make a fool of myself again?
‘Penny for them?’ Trina is studying me from across the table.
‘Sorry?
‘You were miles away, lost in thought.’ She smiles and I think that one day I’ll tell her all about it because I think she’d understand.
‘Mentally going through my shoes, deciding which pair I’m going to wear tonight.’
‘Ah, now that,’ she says, taking a slurp of coffee, ‘Is a very important decision and deserves a lot of thought. Got to show those marketing types how to dress for a night out.’
‘I’ve got a nice pair of black velvet kitten heels.’
‘Sounds perfect; we’ll knock ‘em dead, you wait and see.’
✽✽✽
I have my new dress on with my black velvet heels and I’ve carefully applied my make-up and though I say it myself I don’t look too bad. I’m about to put my coat on and leave for Trina’s when I hear the familiar noise of Flynn’s truck. The front door bangs and Sausage comes trotting in followed by Flynn who sticks his head around the living room door.
‘Halloo. ’
‘Hey, Flynn, how’s it going?’
‘Good, another week over. You going out?’
‘Yeah, work do.’ I pull a face, ‘Can’t be bothered really.’ I wonder why I’m lying when I’m so looking forward to it.
Flynn looks me up and down and raises his eyebrows. ‘Nice dress.’
‘What? This old thing?’ I laugh. Do not blush, I tell myself.
‘Where’s it at? Somewhere posh?’
‘No, it’s basically a glorified pub crawl but apparently everyone makes a big effort to dress up.’
‘Well, have fun. I’m off to the kitchen to fry me up half a cow. Starving.’ He pats his flat stomach.
Which is when I remember; I’ve been so intent on tarting myself up that I haven’t eaten anything since lunchtime. Not good to drink on an empty stomach.
You’re not drinking, the Beccabird reminds me.
No I’m not drinking , but I’ll have to have one or two otherwise I’ll look like a total party pooper. I put my shoulders back and hold my head high; I’m determined to enjoy myself tonight and no one is going to spoil it. Especially not that bird.
‘See you later,’ I call to Flynn as I head out of the door.
‘BE LUCKY!’ he bellows back.
Essential office socialising, here I come.
Chapter Eight
T rina is a wizard; a few twists here and there, a dozen hairclips and I now have a sophisticated up-do. I can’t believe how different I look, somehow my neck looks longer and slimmer and I think I look younger. Of course the glass of Prosecco I’m holding in my hand is probably helping with the positive thoughts.
‘Wow! Thank you so much – it looks so good!' I smile at myself in the mirror.
‘It does suit you up – and now you’ve seen how I do it you’ll be able to do it yourself.’
‘I won’t be able to do it as well as this but I’ll definitely have a go.’
I will too; I think I’ve got into a rut and I need to make more of an effort. I feel optimistic and positive which I know, in part, is due to the alcohol but I do feel as if my life is getting back on track. I’m feeling a little bit pleased with myself for coming back to Frogham and am starting to wish I’d done it years ago instead of sticking it out in self-inflicted exile.
Trina’s house is lovely and very her , it’s only a few streets away from Flynn’s and the house is more or less the same lay-out but the similarity ends there. All of the rooms, including the kitchen and bathroom are decorated in varying shades of pink which sounds absolutely horrendous but definitely isn’t. Like Trina herself the house is classy and glamorous and in her bedroom she has the most amazing dressing table that I’ve ever seen and when I eventually get my own place I’m going to have one exactly like it. It has a huge mirror with lights around so you can properly see to do your hair and make-up and the drawers underneath are full of everything you could possibly need to look good. Make-up, hairdryer, straighteners, clips and accessories, no wonder Trina always looks so good. I feel sure someone’s going to shout lights! Camera! Action! at any moment.
Trina picks up her own glass of Prosecco and we chink glasses.
‘Let’s show those youngsters how it’s done, eh?’
‘Too right! Cheers!’
I take a small sip and put my glass down.
Trina drains her glass in one.
‘You’ll have to finish that because we need to go.’ She says, pointing her glass at mine. ‘I like to be a little bit late so we can make an entrance but if we leave it any longer the place will be so packed no one will even notice us arrive.’
I look at my full glass, I can’t waste it, can I? I reluctantly drink it down in a few gulps, I was trying to pace myself but I’m already on my second glass. I was going to make it last as I’ve promised myself not to drink too much, but I can’t not drink it because that would look rude, wouldn’t it? I’ll have to drink slowly for the rest of the night, maybe just have one drink and make it last.
As if, barks th
e Beccabird.
I’m trying, I really am.
Yeah, you are, very trying indeed.
✽✽ ✽
The babble of voices hits us in a wall of sound as we push the swing doors open into the bar of the Pig in a Poke. Trina squeezes through the throng of people and I follow behind her, weaving my way through as she aims in the direction of the bar.
When we arrive at the bar I spot a few of the youngsters from our office grouped around a corner table but Trina ignores them and stops in front of three suited men leaning against the bar swigging from bottles. They make no attempt to hide the fact that they’re looking at Trina and I from head to toe. Trina wasn’t wrong about them making an effort; their suits are sharp and expensive looking and they all have that freshly showered and shaved look about them.
‘Hi guys.’ Trina stands in front of them and I hover behind.
‘Hey, Treen, lovely to see you. Looking as gorgeous as ever.’ The tallest of them leans over and kisses Trina on the cheek then leans back and looks over Trina’s shoulder to me. He nods in my direction and raises his eyebrows at Trina who grabs me around the waist and pulls me forward.
‘This is Becca, my new workmate. Becca, this is Gav, one of the salesmen.’
‘Senior salesman, if you don’t mind.’ He leans in and puts his hand on my shoulder and kisses me on each cheek. ‘Lovely to meet you, Becca.’ I get a blast of aftershave and minty mouthwash.
‘Hi Gav, nice to meet you,’ I say.
‘Any friend of Trina’s is a friend of mine.’
He looks right into my eyes and smiles a seductive smile which conveniently shows off his very nice teeth while I stand like an idiot not knowing what to say. Trina did say the salesman fancy themselves and Gav certainly does. Late thirties to early forties, I’d guess, he has an air of confidence about him and seems to be the ringleader out of the three of them.
He is very good looking though. Tall, dark and very definitely handsome.
The other two salesmen kiss Trina and introduce themselves to me as Neil and Seb and I get more kisses and shoulder pressing. I haven’t been kissed so much in years.
Say Hello and Wave Goodbye Page 8