Authors: Michelle Betham
He looked down at the floor, his hands in his pockets. ‘Maybe you’re right.’
Despite everything she’d just said, Amber was surprised at her own reaction to his words.
‘Maybe we
do
need some time out.’
She couldn’t say anything. The words wouldn’t come.
‘I love you, Amber. I want you to know that – I
need
you to know that. But if we stay together, this could destroy us. I mean, look at what’s happened tonight. I don’t know what came over me, but… it was like I wanted to hurt you. Physically, emotionally, feelings I had no control over were there, flooding my brain, making me do that to you and…’
Amber made her way over to the walk-in wardrobe in the corner of the room, silently looking for her small, pink carry-on suitcase.
‘This doesn’t mean it’s over, does it? It doesn’t have to be over.’
Amber turned to look at him. He was leaning against the archway that led into the wardrobe, his expression conveying everything she was feeling. ‘I don’t know.’
‘We could just try sitting down and talking. Something we probably should have done a long time ago. Surely that wouldn’t hurt?’
Amber shook her head. ‘It’s too late, Jim. And I think you know that, too.’ She didn’t think she could bear delaying what seemed to be the inevitable any longer. For the past few months she’d been the happiest she’d been since Jim had walked into her life two decades ago. Yet now, knowing what she knew, knowing how all those years had panned out, she wished he’d never walked into it at all. ‘I think we just need to draw a line under everything and admit that we were never really meant to be together.’
‘Is that what you think?’
‘Look at our history, Jim. Look at our relationship. It was never straightforward, never conventional…’
‘And that’s a bad thing?’
She looked at him again, holding his stare for a few seconds longer. ‘Yeah. When I remember how I felt a lot of that time, then, yeah. It was.’
He looked down at the rust-coloured carpet. ‘I’m sorry. For the way things have turned out.’
‘Me too,’ she whispered, turning away from him as she began throwing a few things into her case, stopping only when she felt his hands on her hips, slowly turning her round to face him. ‘Jim…’ He was kissing her before she’d had time to register what was happening, his thumb stroking her cheek, his mouth moving slowly and gently against hers. It felt like a kiss goodbye; a heart breaking kiss. A kiss that made Amber feel as though she was bidding farewell to a chapter in her life she hadn’t yet finished reading. A chapter that had to end before its time or this story just wouldn’t work out, because, sometimes, the story doesn’t always have the ending you want, no matter how much you’re rooting for it. And there isn’t a thing you can do to change that.
‘Oh, my God! It’s kicking!’ Amber laughed, placing her hand on Debbie’s swollen stomach. She had the most perfect baby bump, rounded and small, and not much extra weight gain either, despite her eating – as Debbie put it – like a horse!
‘Yeah. It would appear we have another footballer in the making, or that’s what Gary’s saying anyway,’ Debbie sighed, rubbing her lower back.
‘Did you not want to know the sex of the baby?’ Amber asked, watching as Debbie continued to rub her back.
‘Well,
I
did, but for some reason Gary wants to keep it a surprise. God knows why, but I’m humouring him.’
‘You okay? Is your back giving you trouble?’
‘No, I’m fine, chick. Just getting used to my new shape, that’s all. And even though I’m only five months gone I still can’t keep off the loo! Back in a tick.’
Amber smiled as she watched her friend almost jog out of the room to the downstairs bathroom. So far she was having a fairly easy pregnancy, and Amber was slowly getting used to being around all the baby talk and the excitement a prospective new arrival generated without it tearing her up inside. She couldn’t say she didn’t still get fleeting moments when the sadness would just wash over her, making her mourn the baby she would never have. Because that happened. It happened a lot. But she could handle it now. She had to, she had no other choice. It was the way her life had panned out, and she just had to accept it.
Sitting back in her chair at the dining table, she took a long sip of coffee as she looked around Debbie’s newly-decorated kitchen. To say her and Gary’s house was typical ‘footballer’ probably wasn’t too far from the truth, because if there was one thing Debbie loved it was her bling. And even here, in the kitchen, that was evident. A huge, elaborate, crystal chandelier hung from the stark white ceiling above a granite-topped island; the units were also white, sporting grey-black diamante-flecked work surfaces that shimmered when the light from the many huge windows dotted around the room hit them. There were two large Gaggenau cookers – although quite why there were two Amber couldn’t really fathom, considering she’d never seen Debbie cook a thing in all the time she’d known her – a massive double-sized dishwasher and various other appliances Amber had yet to work out the purpose of. At the other end of the room, where she was sitting, was an enormous, white, glass-topped dining table around which eight silver and white chairs were placed. Professionally taken black and white framed photos of Debbie and Gary hung from the walls, as well as a TV so big it could almost pass for a small cinema screen, and music was filtering into the room through hidden speakers and a central sound system, the whereabouts of which Amber had no idea. The whole house was a little too much for her, but Debbie had just spent months painstakingly redecorating it, and to her it was her palace. Although Amber couldn’t help thinking that she hadn’t really factored in the arrival of a baby. There was so much white around the place – from the walls to the sofas, and even the stair carpet – that the thought of cleaning it all once that baby reached toddler age made Amber nervous, and she didn’t even live there.
It was all a far cry from her own new home – a modest but beautiful house on the outskirts of Newcastle, not far from the airport, so it was handy for all those trips to London she had to make. Detached, and fairly private with a gated driveway, it had a small back garden, a double garage, and inside she’d had it decorated in colours ranging from a yellow hallway to a red kitchen. It was almost bohemian in its feel – lived in and comfortable. She may have been married to an ex-footballer, and was best friends with the ultimate WAG, but she was never going to become one herself. She just didn’t do chandeliers and swimming pools. She did squishy sofas and wooden coffee tables with magazines and DVDs lying around all over the place. She liked being surrounded by her own kind of mess. She liked having her own space. Most of the time. There were even days when she quite liked being on her own again. Although Jim was never far from her thoughts, and sometimes the feelings of sadness and regret would hit her out of the blue, physically winding her. But she was getting used to them. She was getting used to a lot of things.
‘Hey, you okay?’ Debbie asked, sitting back down and swinging her legs up onto the chair beside her.
‘Yeah.’ Amber smiled, shaking those thoughts she didn’t want to think about from her mind. ‘I’m fine.’
‘You sure?’
‘Debbie, I’m okay. Honestly.’
‘Well, I’ll try and believe you, but you’re not convincing me.’
Amber took another sip of coffee, looking briefly out of the French windows onto Debbie and Gary’s ridiculously huge back garden with its landscaped lawn, outdoor swimming pool, separate pool-house and guest bungalow. And today there was also the addition of a massive marquee next to the pool, set up ready for the party Debbie was throwing for Gary’s birthday.
‘It’s only been a couple of months since you and Jim split up, chick. That’s no time, and, let’s face it, it isn’t even like you can completely walk away from it all, can you? Given your line of work.’
Amber turned to look at Debbie. ‘I can handle all of that, Debs. Really. I’ve seen him loads of times since we separated and we’re fine. We’re getting on okay.’
Debbie just raised an eyebrow, placing a hand on her baby bump, which didn’t escape Amber’s notice. Somehow, that one, tiny, innocent action, along with the mention of Jim’s name, had brought back all that pain and heartache she’d felt when she’d been told she could never have children. That she could never have
Jim’s
children.
‘You
are
going to stay for this party, aren’t you?’ Debbie’s voice broke into Amber’s thoughts, jolting her back to a reality very different to the one she’d thought she’d be living.
‘Hmm? Oh, yes. Why wouldn’t I be staying? I said I was, didn’t I?’
‘Yeah, well, I know you, missy. If you start dwelling on things too much, your whole mood changes, then you claim all you want to do is go off and be alone.’
‘I do not,’ Amber laughed, even though that
was
actually true. She did do that. Sometimes. ‘Well, okay, maybe I do. Now and again. But I won’t do it tonight, I promise.’
‘Good. Because the girls are dying to see you again, and I’m looking forward to having your company for more than a couple of hours. You always seem to be rushing about these days.’
‘It’s the nature of my work, Debbie. I need to be down in London a lot more than I used to be because of this TV show I seem to have got myself attached to… I could kill Max sometimes. It’s almost like he can talk me into something without me actually realising it’s happening.’
She’d just been made a regular panel member on
Back of the Net
, a Cloud Sports-produced football-themed game show, alongside Ronnie, who was one of the team captains. It was a lot of fun, very tongue-in-cheek most of the time, and she loved doing it, but it only added to her already packed workload.
As Max had predicted, her Ice photo shoot had propelled her profile through the roof and she was currently enjoying being courted by several big-name beauty products wanting her to be their new ‘face’. At the age of thirty-eight she had offers of modelling contracts – which was crazy, in Amber’s eyes – invitations to parties and events she couldn’t keep up with, and a life that left her permanently exhausted. But that was the way things needed to be. If she was constantly busy then she had no time to sit and think about things. No time to miss him. No time to dwell on what they could have had but lost because neither of them could face up to the truth.
‘Yeah, but you’re having fun, aren’t you?’ Debbie said, dunking a chocolate chip cookie into her coffee. ‘You know, I never used to touch these things before I got pregnant but now I can’t stop eating them.’
Amber smiled, reaching over to grab a cookie herself. ‘Well, let me take a couple of those off your hands. Then, if you don’t mind, I’ll nip upstairs and finish getting ready for this party of yours. Where
is
the birthday boy anyway?’
‘Gone to help the DJ sort out the music for tonight, God help us. I’ve told him, if he doesn’t make sure there are some J-Lo tracks, a bit of 70s disco, and some early 90s dance music in there then he’s a dead man, birthday or no birthday. He and his mates aren’t the only ones at this party.’
Amber quickly shoved the last of her cookie into her mouth and stood up. ‘Right, I’d better go and start making myself look presentable. How long have I got? When does it all kick off? No pun intended there.’
‘You seem to have cheered up incredibly quickly,’ Debbie pointed out, taking the last chocolate chip cookie from the plate.
‘I wasn’t
not
cheerful.’
‘Yeah. You were. It’s all starting around seven-ish, so you’ve got a good hour or so before people start turning up. Actually, I’d better go and do some tidying up of my own before the catering company arrives with the food. They’ll be here in ten minutes… I tell you, since I became a mummy-to-be my hair just won’t do anything it’s supposed to.’
‘That’s because most of it isn’t your own.’ Amber grinned, winking at Debbie over her shoulder as she made her way out of the kitchen.
‘Cheeky cow,’ Debbie laughed, throwing a zebra-print cushion at Amber, and missing. ‘And don’t touch my champagne body wash. It’s the only thing that doesn’t bring me out in a rash at the minute.’
Amber practically skipped up the stairs, glad she’d decided to make a day – and a night – of it with Debbie. It had really cheered her up. And the fact she was also sleeping over in one of their many spare rooms meant she didn’t have to go home to an empty house tonight, which was a bonus. She may have told Debbie she was handling things okay, but sometimes, just being in the same part of the country as Jim hurt more than she cared to admit. And tomorrow she’d be seeing him again, although it was purely on a professional basis. Just a few hours ago he’d called a press conference for the following morning at Tynebridge, without giving any clue as to what it was all about. But Amber had an inkling of just what was about to happen. And she wasn’t quite sure how she felt about it. All she knew was that she was going to enjoy tonight, and deal with whatever announcement Jim had to make in the morning.
A quick shower and hair wash later and she was ready to step into the baby-pink wrap-over dress she’d bought especially for the party, with the help of Debbie and a more-than-attentive shop assistant in a small, exclusive, and way-too-expensive boutique in town. Despite earning quite a bit more than she used to when she’d worked at News North East, throwing money away on dresses, handbags, shoes and nails still wasn’t something Amber felt comfortable doing – it just wasn’t her. But as a special treat to herself, thanks to the Ice photo shoot and the money she was getting for being a regular panellist on
Back of the Net
, she’d thrown caution to the wind for once and splashed out on a new dress, and heels that were probably going to have her feet aching after five minutes, but what the hell. She actually felt incredibly sexy as she stood in front of the mirror in just her underwear, admiring those new shoes, pulling her hair away from her shoulders as she turned first one way, then the other.