The One That Got Away (21 page)

I shake my head. ‘Nope. Nothing.’

‘Have you heard from Leo again?’ She looks directly at me.

I inhale. I can’t lie to her. ‘Yes.’

‘I knew it!’

‘It’s not like you think!’ I cut in quickly. ‘Just texts.’ She says nothing, just looks at me expressionlessly, so I start
to gabble. ‘It’s nothing to worry about Joss.’

‘It’s none of my business if you want to—’

‘I don’t.’ I cut in sharply. ‘I don’t want to do anything with him. I was blind drunk remember?’

She sighs.

‘No one would be in a hurry to repeat a night like that, would they?’ I say. ‘Well, apart from Leo apparently.’

Joss pulls a face. ‘What?’

I shake my head tiredly. ‘Don’t. Anyway, I’ve told him where to go. He’ll get the message.’

We both fall silent.

‘Sorry,’ she says eventually. ‘I just thought …’

‘No way,’ I insist. ‘Absolutely no way am I going back there … So, do you think Bec ordered?’ I sit up and look around us.
‘I could really use that drink.’

Right on cue, a waiter appears with a tray of three champagne cocktails.

‘Bec’s pushing the boat out a bit,’ Joss exclaims. ‘Are you sure these are for us?’ she asks him.

‘I think so,’ he says, but looks a bit uncertain. ‘Hang on, I’ll just double check’ and he hastens off to the bar.

Bec arrives back before he does. ‘Oooh!’

‘You didn’t order these?’ Joss motions at them and Bec shakes her head, as the waiter appears back alongside our table, grinning.
‘With compliments from the gentleman at the bar,’ he smirks, as if he doesn’t get to say that often.

‘
Really
?’ Bec exclaims delightedly, all of us turn and peer across – and an elderly-looking Chinese man and his wife smile politely
back at us. ‘Oh …’

‘Not him,’ the waiter frowns. ‘Hang on, my colleague
took the payment. I’ll go and ask …’ He disappears and Bec shrugs and reaches for one of the glasses.

‘Whoa!’ Joss says sharply. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Er, having a drink?’ Bec looks surprised.

‘Bec, you don’t know who sent that, and you didn’t see them make it. It could have anything in it!’

Bec puts her glass back down quickly.

‘One of the twins’ friends had her drink spiked in a club by some random bloke. They didn’t realise – they just thought she
was really drunk, but then she blacked out completely and they had to take her to A&E. I know it’s—’ Joss checks her watch,
‘only six, but still.’

‘No, you’re absolutely right,’ Bec says. ‘Good call. Sad though isn’t it? That you can’t just enjoy what’s probably a nice
gesture.’

The waiter returns. ‘Well ladies, he paid cash and he seems to have gone.’

‘Sorry,’ Joss says, ‘but we’re going to send these back. Just to be on the safe side.’

‘OK,’ he shrugs, not particularly bothered either way, and removes the tray.

‘I’ll get us some more,’ Bec reaches for her purse. ‘What do you want?’

But I’ve just had a really horrible thought.

‘Actually, I’m just going to make a move,’ I pick up my bag and coat suddenly. ‘I’ll call you both, OK?’ and without stopping
to kiss them both goodbye, and to their evident surprise, I make my way quickly towards the door …

Back out on the cold – but still busy – street, I look up and down. There are a few groups of overdressed kids already milling
around loudly and aimlessly, a long night of not being old enough to get in anywhere ahead of them; and plenty of shoppers
laden down with bags making their way back to cars, strings of festive street lights twinkling above their heads. But no Leo.

And really, why would there be? I exhale, feeling suddenly very foolish indeed. It’s early Saturday evening. He’ll be in London
with his wife, or pretending to be at a work thing while secretly skipping off to see one of the other women he regularly
sex-texts. Apart from anything else, so some bloke sends over drinks – how arrogant am I to assume they’re for me and not
Joss or Bec? If I went
back in there now I’d probably find whoever it was attempting to chat them up. I pull my coat on, tightening the belt around
my waist before turning and starting to walk home, panting slightly after only a few minutes because it’s all uphill. I really
do need to have a stern word with myself. I am letting my imagin ation get the better of me and making this into something
it isn’t.

Firstly, Leo would never buy drinks and then just vanish; that’s just not his style. He’d hang around for the glory – although
Joss and Bec would never accept a drink from him, he’d
have
to do it anonymously … I’m starting to feel pretty hot in my coat, despite it being freezing. I should have got a taxi really
… and, moreover, like he’s going to know to show up in a random bar I would never normally be in at that time on a Saturday.
So, what, now he’s psychic? Oh for fuck’s sake – why am I even thinking about this?

I start to speed up crossly. This is just what he wants, me thinking about him, everything revolving around him. I picture
him swanning into the hotel in Windsor, buying those whiskys, that tequila. I should have done what Joss just did, sent them
all straight back and—

A truly horrible thought slams into my mind; one that turns me cold and makes me stop in my tracks. I hear Joss’s voice saying
‘… she blacked out completely. They had to take her to A&E’.

Leo bought the drinks at the hotel. He just turned up out of nowhere and bought me drinks. I got so drunk I went to bed with
him and can’t even remember it …

Oh. My. God …

I just stand there swaying on the spot, hands buried in my pockets. I let him into my room, I felt sick, I passed out and
he helped me to the bed.

No! No – he wouldn’t do that. He just wouldn’t. Leo would never deliberately hurt me, surely? That’s a very, very dangerous
mind-leap too far. I
know
that I had too much to drink well before he turned up. I have only myself to blame for the effects of that, and in all honesty
I do remember feeling glad that he was there when I woke up. And I did kiss him, I know I did … before we …

I tighten my coat around me again and start to walk a little faster, head down, staring at my feet as they march along the
pavement. I just want to get home.

The traffic starts to lessen as I make my way into the quieter streets. My paranoid thoughts have made me feel uneasy, and
I speed up to a brisk, no nonsense march. There aren’t that many people around now, just an old man with a small dog out for
an early-evening leg stretch, and as I glance over my shoulder, a tall teenage goth ambling along; headphones in, overcoat
swinging from side to side.

I turn off on to another street – and then I’m alone entirely. All I can hear is the echo of my fast footsteps. I dig my hands
more firmly into my pockets. I should have got a cab. I’m walking so quickly I’m in danger of breaking into a run, past some
dark houses where no one is home, no one to hear me. ‘Nearly there,’ I mutter
to myself under my breath. ‘Nearly there.’ My heart is thumping, which is ridiculous, because I’m fine. I’m
fine
… it’s barely seven and what am I even running from?

A cough nearby makes me jump horribly – seconds before a car drives past – but when I look sharply to my left, a man is simply
unloading bulging Sainsbury’s bags from the boot of a Mini, the front door to his house already open and his wife with her
arms crossed, shivering in the open doorway, light streaming out into the street.

Their normality, and presence, relaxes me slightly. By the time I reach the end of the street I’m a little calmer, breathing
more easily and feeling very stupid for being so melodramatic. I’m a grown woman and yet I’m scaring myself silly despite
being perfectly safe.

I turn into our road. A car with its lights on, indicator flashing, has pulled up on the left-hand side of the street towards
the far end – but it’s the one that comes up behind me so slowly I don’t notice it until the last moment that makes me leap
out of my skin.

‘Get in.’ The passenger door flings open hard enough to almost hit me in the leg.

‘How many times do I have to tell you, you shouldn’t walk home on your own?’ Dan asks in exasperation as I clamber inside,
pulling the seat belt on. ‘Why didn’t you ring me? I could have picked you up!’

‘I thought you were still in Chichester,’ I protest and we drive literally feet up the road before turning left on to our
drive.

‘So get a cab!’ Dan says. ‘
Always get a cab
.’

‘I’m fine,’ I say, forgetting in an instant how vulnerable I felt a second ago, now that I’m safe with him.

He switches the engine off. ‘I don’t care how much it costs,’ he says more patiently, ‘it’s important. Promise me next time
you will?’

‘I promise.’

‘Good,’ he says with the pleased air of having resolved a bothersome problem. ‘Have we got anything to eat inside? I’m starving.’

‘There’s a pizza in the freezer I think.’

‘That’ll do,’ he says cheerfully as we get out of the car.

‘Can you turn the oven on?’ I call down from our bedroom once we’re back inside and I’m putting my feet into the furry warmth
of my slippers.

‘Already done it,’ he calls up. ‘Want a drink?’

‘Yes please,’ I shout, crossing the room to pull the curtains. Outside, a car is slowly reversing past the house, I just
catch the end of the bonnet disappearing to my right before it’s completely hidden away by the hedge. I pause for a moment.
Probably just someone parking up.

Dan comes into the room. ‘Is my phone charger up here?’ he says, passing behind me. ‘I can’t find it and my battery’s running
low.’ He glances up from beside the bedside table to see me still standing there just staring out into the street. ‘What you
looking at?’

The car suddenly reappears, but pulls away and drives off so sharply I don’t see anything more than a pair of
hands holding the steering wheel before it roars off up the road.

‘Nothing. Just closing the curtains.’ I yank them shut quickly.

Once Dan has gone back downstairs, I check my phone. I don’t want to, and I want to be wrong, but I’m not. There is a message
waiting for me.

I love you. How many more times? How many more ways to say it? This is starting to hurt now. I can’t stop thinking about you.
Think I need help! – think I need you. No, I KNOW I need you. I have to see you

As I am deleting it with trembling fingers, telling myself that it was just a random car outside, that’s all, another one
comes in.

MUST see you. In dark place right now. Just want this all to work out. Want us to be happy. Want what we had. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The lines of kisses just go on and on … and on.

‘You’re so sexy,’ Dan murmurs in bed the next morning.

Much as I love Dan there is nothing sexy about any of this. The thin drizzly wail of an unwell little boy out of sorts is
coming through from next door. It’s all I can hear and I’m already horribly tense as it is because try as I might, I can’t
put Leo’s text last night from my mind … It almost sounded pissed. Either that or he’s getting carried away with his own sense
of drama. I can’t allow that to happen to me though – it
wasn’t
him at the bar, and it was a random car outside the house. People park and reverse up and down roads, that’s a normal thing.

But I still can’t help glancing – for the hundredth time – at the curtains, to make sure they’re still tightly shut, then
at my mobile to make sure it’s not somehow switched itself back on.

Urgh! I have to stop this. I’m doing this to myself and I have to stop! I’m letting this get completely out of hand; they’re
just text messages – that’s all. So what if Leo says he’s in a dark place? With a bit of luck he’ll stay there.

Next door, Jack winds up for gold.

‘Can they not just take him downstairs?’ It’s finally getting to Dan too. He stops, waits – but when the crying doesn’t ease,
gives up and collapses back on to his pillow, to my guilty relief. ‘We
have
to move …’ He sighs and looks at his watch. ‘We should probably think about getting up anyway to be honest, it’s gone nine.
Should I pop out and get some croissants, do you think? Or have we got a cake or biscuits in the cupboard?’

I drag my mind back to the room and stare at him in confusion, he might as well be talking in code. ‘What do we need a cake
for?’

‘Well, I think we ought to give them something, don’t you? They’ll probably have had breakfast but it’s an hour’s drive there and back, and that way we don’t have to ask
them to stay to lunch.’ He looks at me and then says, ‘You’ve forgotten, haven’t you? Mum and Dad are popping over for a cup
of tea. I told you last week.’

‘Did you? But you only saw them yesterday …’ I stare at him blankly, mentally running through each room in the house, seeing
them through my mother-in-law’s eyes; the bathroom needs cleaning, there’s washing drying all over every surface in the dining
room, the whole place needs hoovering and the kitchen floor is actually sticky underfoot …

‘But they want to see you too,’ he looks surprised. ‘Is this because of what happened with Dad two weeks ago? Don’t worry
about it, he’s fine. He’s not even going to mention it, I promise. He’s just looking forward to catching up with you. Do you
want to go through the shower first or shall I?’

Mother of fuck … my stress levels ratchet up yet another notch as I leap from the bed, flinging the covers back. ‘You can.
I need to straighten up everywhere.’

‘So is that yes to a cake then?’ Dan calls after me.

He wanders back in about an hour later, as I’m feverishly chipping something unidentifiable but disgusting off the draining
board in the kitchen, clutching the car keys and a Shell petrol station carrier bag, which – what with them not being famed
for their pastry skills – doesn’t bode well. ‘What did you get?’ I nod at the bag suspiciously.