Authors: Debbie Viggiano
‘Young lady!’ the old boy chided. ‘You’re going to end up hurting yourself if you’re not careful.’
Steph raced passed him. Too late. She was already hurting. The pain in her chest was indescribable. Steph didn’t know if she was experiencing a coronary or a bad case of heartache. All she knew was it hurt. It hurt like hell.
Chapter Fifty Eight
The moment Steph had disappeared from Si’s line of vision, he had jumped out of the van and trailed her at a discreet distance. Hugging the hedgerow between the pub car park and the communal gardens of the apartment block, Si followed his wife. At the corner of the pub premises, he’d hung back. Peering around a lamp post, he’d watched Steph in conversation with an old man. After an awful lot of dithering, the two of them had walked through the main door.
Si’s dilemma then had been what to do next. Opposite the apartment block were a few houses and a small parade of shops. One of them, a newsagent, had a large glass frontage. It was perfect for watching the main door of Barry Hastings’ apartment block.
Si had stepped off the pavement. Looking left and right, he’d dodged traffic and hurried over to the newsagent. Pushing open the door, an overhead bell had tinkled merrily. Si had casually strolled around the shop floor before positioning himself. And here he’d remained ever since.
A plump Indian lady presided behind the cash till. The shop had two aisles separated by a tall display system of greeting cards and magazines. Standing with his back to the Indian lady, he now appeared to be studying anniversary cards. In reality his eyes were focussed on the communal door opposite. Steph had been inside for ages now. Si wondered anxiously how things were going. What if Dawn had only succeeded in making polite conversation with Barry Hastings? What if they had spent the time so far limping through dinner, struggling for conversation? In which case Barry Hastings might welcome Steph’s interruption. Maybe it would be Dawn, not Steph, coming through that door in due course. At the thought of his plan backfiring, Si clutched the anniversary card to his chest in horror.
The communal door opened and Si’s heart picked up speed. But it was the Grandpa again. He was doddering about, fussing with one of the apartment block’s many mailboxes. Si fingered the anniversary card anxiously.
‘Sir are you buying that card or not?’
The Indian lady’s voice made Si jump.
‘Er, I haven’t decided.’
‘Well while you’re deciding, could you please stop bending it?’
‘Sorry,’ Si looked at the card. ‘I think the words are too flowery in this one.’ He put it back on the shelf and pretended to look at another.
Grandpa had gathered up his post and was now locking the mailbox. He shuffled back to the door and went inside. Si swallowed. The minutes continued to drag. It seemed as though Steph had been gone for an eternity. The anticipation of what may or may not be going on was starting to get to Si. What if Steph had interrupted Dawn and Barry shagging and, instead of being furious, she’d shouted
yippee
and stripped down to her purple underwear and joined in? Or what if there had been a catfight between Dawn and Steph but Barry Hastings had stepped between them and even now was smugly declaring, ‘Ladies, no arguing please! There’s enough of me for both of you.’
Si massaged his temples. His imagination was running riot. He didn’t really believe that Steph would be up for a threesome. But then again, a week ago he wouldn’t have considered it possible that his wife would ever have bought purple and black underwear, never mind be in another man’s apartment. Si was aware that the Indian lady was starting to watch him with suspicion. There was only so long you could stand and stroke greeting cards. He wandered over to the newspapers. Suddenly the communal door flew open. Steph shot through the aperture looking thoroughly distressed. Si’s heart began to race. Whatever had happened, it clearly wasn’t the jolly threesome he’d briefly fretted about. Even from here Si could see his wife was very wild about the eyes. Steph was looking this way and that. Without warning she ran across the road. Car horns sounded angrily. Her hand shot to her mouth. She was crying. And she was heading this way. Si watched in horror. Had she seen him? Now Steph’s hand was reaching for the shop door. Quickly Si picked up a newspaper. The overhead bell jangled alarmingly as Steph burst into the shop. Si flicked open the newspaper and held it up in front of him. He could hear the breath catching in Steph’s throat as she hastened over to the counter.
‘Ten Silk Cut,’ she sobbed.
‘Are you all right dearie?’ asked the Indian lady.
‘F-fine thanks. I’ll have a box of matches too.’
Carefully Si sidled around the display system while Steph fumbled in her handbag for her purse. Her hands were shaking badly. Coins dropped all over the floor. As Steph bent to pick them up, Si risked lowering his newspaper. His wife was bawling her head off now. Great fat tears were rolling down her cheeks. Si felt terrible. It was all his fault Steph was upset. If he hadn’t set Dawn up with Barry Hastings, Steph would be in that apartment over the road, supping champers and sucking on lobster. And probably not just the lobster if Barry Hastings had anything to do with it. Si instantly stopped feeling guilty. He’d done this to save his marriage. He just hoped to God that this evening’s events paid off.
Steph had retrieved all the dropped change. Between catchy breaths she was counting out coins to the Indian lady. Now she was searching her bag for a tissue.
‘Here,’ the Indian lady said shoving a box of tissues in front of Steph.
The kindness made Steph cry even harder. ‘Th-thank you.’
She blew her nose noisily. Taking her change, Steph turned. Si instantly raised the newspaper up again. Steph moved toward the shop door. With every step she took, Si took a tiny one to the left so that he was obscured from her view. The overhead bell rang as Steph opened the door. Seconds later, she’d gone.
‘Sir, are you going to buy that paper or just stand in my shop and read it?’
‘Um, I don’t really like this particular paper.’
‘Don’t tell me. The words are too flowery.’
‘Sorry.’ Si folded the newspaper up and shoved it back on the shelf. Walking over to the counter, he took out his wallet. ‘I’d like to buy your biggest box of chocolates.’
The Indian lady looked slightly mollified. ‘Here you are dearie.’
Si thanked her. Before leaving the shop he paused on the pretext of putting his wallet away. In reality he was scanning the pavements for Steph. She was nowhere to be seen. Coast clear, Si opened the shop door and jogged across the road. Inside the van, he settled back and wondered how long he’d have to wait for Dawn. At that precise moment his mobile phone began to vibrate. A text message. It was from Dawn. The message was brief and to the point.
Mission accomplished. Go home.
Chapter Fifty Nine
Dawn finished texting Si and popped the mobile back into her handbag. She reclined back on Barry’s bed. The evening had been a resounding success. Not so for Steph of course. However, Dawn didn’t feel sorry for Mrs Garvey. Not one little bit. The woman had a husband. And – as Dawn had pointed out – a very nice husband too. She hoped Si and Steph managed to sort out their differences. But Dawn had done her bit. Played her part. And what an evening it had been. Romance. Drama. Confessions. Oh yes. There had been a few of those. On both sides.
Dawn could hear Barry in the bathroom, singing away as he ran water into a tub the size of a small swimming pool. A second bottle of champagne was sitting in an ice bucket next to the bed. Dawn sipped her drink and reflected back over the last few hours.
Steph’s appearance had been expected. But not by Barry. He’d visibly paled when Mrs Garvey had strolled in reeking of brandy and full of gung-ho. Dawn wasn’t a spiteful person, but after the scene Steph had made in Dawn’s front garden, this time it had been nice to be in the driving seat. Mrs Garvey had needed to learn that it was all very well sounding off when your husband was being poached by another woman, but it was quite a different matter when it came to waving red flags and blowing whistles over a potential lover. Whilst Steph had every right to warn Dawn off Si, she was floundering in deep waters without as much as a pair of water wings when it came to Barry Hastings. Barry was up for grabs. And may the best woman win. And in Dawn’s opinion her single status rendered her the winner. Therefore she’d had no qualms about putting Steph in her place.
Barry had been absolutely bemused, poor lamb. As far as he was concerned, Steph had cancelled the evening. To have her standing in his hallway apoplectic with rage, calling him a two-timing double-crossing bastard, was a little unfair. Dawn had experienced a bit of a tense moment about the truth coming out, but thankfully Barry hadn’t been able to get a word in edgeways. As a result Steph had been none the wiser about her so-called text messages cancelling the evening. Dawn had exhaled with relief when Steph had fled like a greyhound with a rocket up its arse. Barry had turned to Dawn, dropped his strategically placed cushion and held his arms wide in a helpless gesture.
‘What the hell was that all about?’ he’d asked Dawn. ‘She cancelled our evening. And is it true that you’re having a fling with her husband?’
Dawn had taken a deep breath.
‘I need to tell you exactly what’s been going on. However, you may not like me very much afterwards.’
Barry had sat on the edge of the bed and taken Dawn’s hand. ‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ he’d said.
And out had come the whole story.
‘I just want you to know that whilst Si was hoping I would seduce you, everything that’s happened between us tonight Barry has been genuine on my part. You can’t fake feelings. And I definitely have feelings for you. If you’re angry and want me to leave right now, then I will. But I don’t have any regrets Barry. My only regret would be if you didn’t want to see me again.’
‘Actually Dawn, I don’t care if you did come here under false pretences. It’s a damned unusual way to meet a girl, but if I saw Simon Garvey right now I’d thank him from the bottom of my heart. I told you earlier. You’re the woman I’ve been waiting for. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.’
Barry had then started to tell her all about his many marriages and four teenagers who sounded like carbon copies of Melody. Dawn had put up a hand to stop the flow of words.
‘Listen pet. We both have a history. But the past is the past. Let’s just concentrate on the
now
and let the future look after itself.’
‘I know my future,’ Barry had said. ‘It’s sitting right here on this bed with me. I love you Dawn. I know it sounds crazy, but I do. And one day I hope to hear you say those words to me.’
Dawn had sighed. ‘Barry, you’ve had women coming out of your ears.’
‘I’m not quite as bad as you think,’ Barry had assured. ‘The only women I’ve been in touch with are via Facebook. I was hoping to find somebody that way. But Steph Garvey was the only one who agreed to meet me.’ And then Barry had straightened up. ‘I know. I’ll prove to you how serious I am.’
And with that he’d stood up and disappeared into the lounge. Moments later he was back clutching a laptop.
‘Look at this.’ He’d flopped down on the bed with the machine.
‘What about it?
‘This is my Facebook account.’
Dawn had looked. One hundred and fifty six friends. All female.
Barry hit some buttons. ‘Gone.’
‘Gone?’ Dawn had asked blankly.
‘No more Facebook account.’ Barry had slung the laptop on the floor. ‘No more networking and trying to meet women. I’ve told you Dawn. And I’ll keep telling you. I’ve met the woman of my dreams. And that’s you.’
And Dawn had smiled. She was too old and cynical to believe in love at first sight, but she couldn’t deny the fact that there was a beautiful chemistry between her and Barry. And who was she to turn her back on the chance of seeing if things blossomed.
Dawn slipped into Barry’s dressing gown and padded across the carpet to the en-suite. An apartment with not one but two bathrooms! She pushed the door open and stepped into a cloud of steam.
‘Brilliant timing,’ Barry turned off the taps. ‘Have you brought the champagne?’ ‘No. Do you want me to fetch it?’
‘Of course. We have a huge bubble bath here, but we need the other sort of bubbles to go with it.’
‘Never mind that for a minute. You haven’t kissed me for at least five minutes.’
‘Then we’ll have to do something about that won’t we?’
‘I was hoping you’d say that.’
Dawn let Barry’s dressing gown drop to the floor. Two golden arms circled her waist.
‘Have you ever made love in a bath before?’ Barry smiled into her eyes.
Dawn wrinkled her nose and considered.
‘Can’t say I have.’
Taking her hand, he stepped into the bath and pulled her down next to him.
‘Well in that case,’ he kissed her left cheek, ‘I think,’ he kissed her right cheek, ‘that might be,’ he kissed the tip of her nose, ‘about to change.’ And with that his lips came down on hers.
It was quite some time before either of them drank the second bottle of champagne.
Chapter Sixty
Steph crashed through the door of 42 Jessamine Terrace. She looked a fright. Twin streams of mascara streaked her cheeks. Her nose was bright red and swollen. Her eyes looked like red-rimmed road maps. She’d smoked three Silk Cut one after the other and now felt sick to her stomach.
The journey home had been a nightmare. The train had only travelled a short distance before it filled with Saturday night revellers. They’d piled on board, filling up all the seats – apart from the one next to the scary looking woman slumped by the window. What was that saying? Oh yes. Smile and the world smiles with you. Cry and you cry alone. The carriage had been packed with happy people, dressed up to the nines as they went out to celebrate Saturday night after a hard week’s work. Chatter and laughter. Aftershave and perfume. The sounds and smells had intermingled as the train rattled along the tracks. The almost carnival atmosphere had intensified Steph’s misery. Not that long ago, she’d been like them. Full of anticipation about the evening ahead.