Don't Want To Miss A Thing (20 page)

‘You said I could call anytime.’ Her friend was frantic. ‘Amber’s upstairs having a meltdown. Can you come now and take over down here?’

‘On my way.’ Molly snatched up her keys and headed for the door, gesturing to Dex that she was leaving.

‘Can I just—’

‘Sorry, emergency, I have to go.’ She locked the front door and set off across the village green without looking back.

‘Brrrraaahhh,’ Delphi called after her, indignant at having missed out on their customary goodbye kiss. A stab of remorse cut through Molly but it was too late to turn back; she had to get over to the café now. And Dex was still watching her, she could feel it. She was still furious with him and he was the one holding Delphi.

To whom she appeared to be in danger of becoming worryingly over-attached.

Maybe it was time to take a step back.

‘Oh sweetheart, it’s OK, we’ll be all right.’ Amber was in her arms and Frankie felt as if her heart would break. She held on to her daughter, rocking back and forth and patting her back as she’d done years ago whenever Amber had been upset. Right now she was sobbing like a baby, properly howling with misery, incapable of holding it in. Hopefully it would be cathartic.

They sat together for some time, on the bed, the front of Frankie’s shirt growing steadily damper with tears as she continued to stroke Amber’s hair and murmur soothing words of comfort. They might not work but at least she was saying them, reassuring her daughter that she was still loved.

At last the shuddering sobs died down, the flow of tears dried up and the tension leaked out of Amber’s body.

‘Sorry.’ She wiped her eyes and said, ‘Couldn’t help it. Thought my head was going to explode.’

‘Oh darling, it doesn’t matter.’

‘I feel a bit better now. Who’s looking after the café?’

‘Molly.’

‘I’ll have to say sorry to her too. Oh God, I just feel so . . . stupid. If Dad’s lied about so many things my whole life, how do I know he’s
ever
told the truth?’ She paused, struggling to explain.
‘Like when he used to call me his beautiful girl. He probably didn’t even mean that.’

This thought had occurred to Frankie too. Fiercely she said, ‘Of course he meant it. Because you
are
beautiful.’

‘Does he like Shaun more than he likes me? He might do.’

Suddenly having to cope with the concept of sibling rivalry was evidently hard. Giving her a reassuring kiss, Frankie said, ‘Your dad loves you with all his heart.’

‘And what about Shaun’s mum? Does he like her more than he likes you?’

Touché
.

‘I don’t know.’ Another question she couldn’t answer. Frankie just knew she had to be strong for her daughter. ‘But we’re going to get through this, trust me.’

‘How?’

‘One step at a time.’ All she knew right now was that seeing the hurt Joe had inflicted on Amber was having a powerful reciprocal effect on her own feelings for him. He was a lesser man than she’d thought and the love was evaporating like mist.
Which was a good thing
.

‘What’s the first step?’ said Amber.

Frankie surveyed the wrecked bedroom and said with a brief smile, ‘Probably clearing up the broken glass.’

On her way back home from the café, Molly saw in the distance that Dex was outside Gin Cottage, cutting back the overgrown wisteria at the side of the house.

As she approached, he glanced up and noticed her before looking away again. Awkward.

Drawing closer, she saw Delphi in her baby walker on the path and her heart did a squeeze of love. In turn spotting her, Delphi
started waving her tiny starfish hands and shouting excitedly. Even more awkward.

Molly began to veer over to the left, away from Gin Cottage and towards her own. The next moment – oh help – Dex was opening the gate, closing it behind him so Delphi couldn’t escape and making his way towards her with an air of purpose.

He wasn’t smiling either.

And then he was digging into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a folded sheet of paper, holding it towards her.

‘Here you go.’

What was this about? Unfolding the paper, Molly saw that it was a receipt from a company called ScooterGuys. Beneath their name was printed the shoutline: ‘We drive you and your car home then scoot off back to base!’

The receipt was for three hundred and eighty pounds.

‘Just so you know,’ Dex said evenly, ‘I don’t drink and drive. Never have, never will. This is how I got home last night.’

‘OK. Well, good.’ She felt her cheeks redden at having wrongly accused him. ‘Sorry.’

But the tension between them still hung in the air. Dex’s eyes were glittering. He said, ‘No problem,’ in the tone of voice that clearly indicated there
was
a problem. ‘But maybe next time you could check first, before accusing me of doing something I would never do.’

‘Right, yes, I will.’ The
other thing
still stood between them, as insurmountable as Becher’s Brook. Molly hesitated; should she mention—

‘Anyway, that’s all. Don’t panic, I haven’t forgotten the agreement.’ He turned away, heading back to Delphi who was watching them through the slats of the closed garden gate. ‘Bye.’

Chapter 24

He’d started off with all the good intentions in the world, but caring for Delphi single-handed was turning out to be harder than Dex had ever imagined.

It was four weeks now since his trip to – and ill-fated return from – London. He and Molly were speaking to each other but the atmosphere between the two of them was still strained and set firmly to politeness-between-neighbours. It was killing him, but it wasn’t his place to try and change it; he’d made a complete prat of himself and that was that. The rejection still stung but he had no choice other than to man up and deal with it.

Which he
had
been doing. But now he needed some form of distraction. The life of a celibate monk wasn’t what he was cut out for.

Happily, thanks to Delphi’s obsession with Young Bert, Dex appeared to have found himself a new babysitter.

‘I think it’s going to be her first word.’ Outside in the garden behind the café, Amber had been watching with amusement as Delphi gazed rapturously at Young Bert and shouted, ‘Go! Go!’

Dex said, ‘She’s either trying to say “goat” or telling him to clear out of here.’ Personally, he couldn’t see the attraction; with
that bony skull, those pale beady eyes and the whiskery white beard, Bert reminded him of his old chemistry teacher from school.

‘GO GO GO!’ roared Delphi, clapping her hands at the little goat.

‘She’s a cutie.’ Amber looked at Dex. ‘I’m a brilliant babysitter, by the way. If you ever need one.’

‘Really?’ Dex was immediately interested.

‘I’ve done loads around here. Haven’t I, Mum?’

‘Hmm?’ Frankie was busy clearing and wiping down tables. ‘Babysitting? Oh yes, she’s done lots. Plenty of families can recommend her.’

‘How about tomorrow evening?’ said Dex.

‘Friday? No problem. Five pounds an hour,’ said Amber. ‘What time would you be home, though? Because I have to be up early on Saturday.’

‘Midnight?’ said Dex. ‘Half past?’

She gave him a pitying look. ‘You can stay out till two, but no later than that.’

‘Deal. Great.’

Frankie straightened up and said, ‘There you are then, all sorted. Going somewhere nice?’

‘I don’t know yet.’ Dex felt better already; the actual going out was the exciting bit. It didn’t even have to be anywhere nice.

The Crown Inn was on the outskirts of Marlbury, the small market town eight or so miles from Briarwood. Serendipity had brought Dexter here tonight. Two years ago he’d heard and liked a song being played on the radio, made a note of the band and bought their album. He’d been one of a very select few to do so; they’d never been heard of since. Until yesterday, when he’d
spotted a flyer on the noticeboard in the village shop, advertising a gig by the band at the Crown the very next night.

And now here he was, in a busy pub, watching them begin their set.

They were called The Games We Play, which Dex had thought an intriguing name for a band. With no photos on the cover of their CD, he’d had no idea what they looked like. Sadly, the female singer was a drippy-looking blonde and the drummer and guitarist were hand-knitted, straggly-haired hippy types. It shouldn’t have mattered, but it did.

More to the point, they were playing as if they’d forgotten how to do it. The blonde girl was nervous, singing off-key and with her eyes closed.

God, what a let-down. This was awful. Should he get out now, escape while he still could? Or stay and hope they improved?

The first song ended and the applause was muted which was hardly a surprise. Scanning the audience, Dex noticed only one person clapping with enthusiasm. At the other side of the pub, her arms raised to show she meant it, was a girl around his own age with short red hair and sparkling eyes, wearing a blue top and cargo pants. She even stuck her fingers in her mouth and did a piercing whistle, which elicited a brief smile of gratitude from the drippy blonde.

Must be a friend or relative.

As if aware of his gaze upon her, the girl with the impressive whistle glanced over at Dex then looked away again.

The next song began. During the course of it he caught her looking at him twice more. When it ended, she once again applauded wildly. Definitely a supporter. Dex, leaning against the bar and noting that she was halfway down her drink, predicted that after two more songs she’d be heading over for a refill.

He was wrong. It took three. And then she materialised beside him, effortlessly attracting the attention of the barman and asking for another Bacardi and Coke.

‘Hi,’ Dex greeted her. ‘Enjoying the set?’

The redhead nodded and said, ‘Very much.’

‘Know them, do you?’ He indicated the band up on the stage.

‘Why?’

‘You were applauding as if they’re your best friends.’

‘Well, they’re not.’ She smiled. ‘I just saw how terrified the singer was, thought a bit of encouragement would relax her. And it did. She’s not so nervous now.’

‘You’re right. That’s a very nice thing to do,’ said Dex.

‘Believe it or not, I’m a very nice person.’

She was attractive, well-spoken, had a sense of humour. He said, ‘Here on your own?’

‘I am. Is that allowed?’

‘Of course. I’m just surprised, that’s all. Are you a fan of the band?’ If she’d also come along here tonight after having bought their CD last year, that would be a coincidence. It might even be fate.

‘Never heard of them before. And just between us,’ she confided, ‘I’m quite hoping I won’t hear them again.’

‘See that lead singer?’ Dex nodded at the drippy blonde on the state. ‘She’s my little sister.’

There was a pause, then the girl said, ‘If that was true,
you’d
have been applauding enthusiastically.’

He smiled. ‘Touché.’

Her eyes sparkled. ‘My name’s Amanda. Can I buy you a drink?’

‘Hello, Amanda. No thanks.’ This time it was Dex’s turn to pause for a second, before taking out his wallet. ‘Let me get you one.’

Amanda was thirty years old. She was single and worked as a
secretary. Up close, her eyes were grey, flecked with gold. When she went on holiday she liked to go either skiing or scuba-diving. She also didn’t see the point of eating curries unless they were seriously,
seriously
hot.

The band reached the halfway point of their set and stopped for a break. Amanda and Dex applauded them off the stage then made their way outside for some fresh air. They grabbed one of the tables in front of the pub and Amanda chatted briefly to an elderly couple walking past with their spaniel.

When the couple had moved on, Dex said, ‘So you’re local?’

‘Very.’ Amanda indicated the row of houses across the street.

‘That’s where you live?’

‘Number twenty-two, the one on the end.’

‘Handy.’ The moment he said it, Dex realised how it sounded. As she raised a quizzical eyebrow he said, ‘OK,
cut
. I meant handy for you, living so close to the pub.’

Amanda smiled. ‘There is that. It also has its drawbacks. Can get a bit noisy at chucking-out time. But when you just feel like popping out for a quick drink, catching up on local gossip and seeing who’s around, yes, it can be very . . . handy.’

The playful way she said it told Dex all he needed to know. This was flirtation at its most subtle. Amanda was letting him know she found him attractive. He took a swallow of his drink and said, ‘And who was around tonight? Anyone interesting?’

She inclined her head towards him. ‘You know, I actually think there might have been.’

From inside the pub came the sound of a guitar being retuned. The barmaid, clearing glasses from the tables next to them, said, ‘Sounds like they’re about to start up again.’

Everyone else headed back inside. Dex and Amanda stayed where they were.

‘Do you want to listen to the second half?’ said Amanda.

‘I don’t mind. Do you?’

She was watching him intently now, her mouth curving up at the corners. ‘I think we’ve done our bit, given them the encouragement they needed.’ As the music began to play inside the pub, she listened for a moment and said, ‘She’s singing in tune now.’

‘So there’s no reason why we can’t stay out here.’

Amanda considered this, then rubbed her arms. ‘Except, it’s getting a bit . . . chilly.’

‘Let’s go back inside then,’ Dex said easily. He knew what was coming next.

‘But then we wouldn’t be able to talk, not properly.’ She blinked and said, ‘We could go over to my house, if you like. For coffee. How does that sound?’

A girl in a red Peugeot was driving past; for a split second Dex saw her blond hair and thought it was Molly. But no, of course it wasn’t her. He watched the Peugeot disappear down the street and allowed his heart rate to return to normal. Then he drained his glass, smiled at Amanda and said, ‘Coffee sounds great.’

It was ten o’clock; the coffee had been drunk. The lights in Amanda’s sitting room were low and her intentions abundantly clear.

‘Right, shall I just come out and say it?’ She’d kicked off her shoes and was next to him on the sofa, her feet tucked beneath her. ‘I’m a single thirty-year-old who’d rather not have her private life gossiped about. Which, in a town like this one, is easier said than done.’