The One That Got Away (27 page)

‘Very,’ I say gently. It would be lovely if someone looked after her for a change. I like this man already. ‘Have fun.’

‘Thanks,’ she says gratefully. ‘Moll? Call me if you need me, won’t you? Whenever, it doesn’t matter. Please think about what
I said, about telling someone, won’t you?’

I’m pretty sure she doesn’t mean Dan though.

On Saturday Dan cheerfully announces we should go and get our Christmas tree. He takes me for breakfast first, then we go
to the garden centre, get the tree home, put it up, and start to decorate it. He then nips out to buy a new set of fairy lights
that actually work and while
he’s gone I text Leo in tears and literally beg him not to destroy my life.

Dan comes back. We pick up where we left off with the decorating and then Dan redecorates it two hours later in good humour
when it falls over and all the baubles fling themselves from the branches in a dramatic fashion. I go upstairs to the loo
and check my phone. Nothing. I send Leo another text, pleading with him to just walk away. I’m very careful not to incriminate
myself and don’t actually admit to anything. I just ask him please to find it in his heart to do what is right. That if he
really
loves me …

I check my phone again once we’ve gone to bed and Dan is asleep. Still nothing.

I’m almost out of time.

Sunday arrives. Dan gets the papers, I take him out for Sunday lunch because I cannot bear to stay trapped in the house a
moment longer, and we go for a long walk across the downs.

‘You know, I realised something today,’ Dan reaches for my hand. ‘This might be our last Christmas. Just us I mean. This time
next year, we could be … millionaires!’

He grins at me and I have to look away quickly, pretending to inspect the view so he can’t see the tears that have sprung
to my eyes. We could be a lot of things, Dan.

‘Parents – that’s what I was really going to say. We could be parents.’ He winks at me, puts an arm round
me and then looks happily out over the fields spread below us.

I hesitate, and then I sway slightly as I open my mouth. ‘Dan …’

He looks at me. ‘Yeah?’

‘Nothing.’ I can’t do it.
I can’t
. ‘Let’s go home.’

I have nightmares that night and on Monday morning, when Dan has gone to work, I crack and call Leo. It rings – he is still
abroad – but he doesn’t answer, it just goes to voicemail.

I take a deep breath.

‘Hi,’ I begin and realise my voice is shaking. ‘It’s me.’ I try to think what to say. ‘I know you’re coming back tomorrow,
and what you said you were going to do.’ I pause. ‘I would really like …’ My words come out a little high and I swallow painfully,
trying to sound more controlled. ‘Leo, I would really like—’ I try again ‘just to be able to talk to you as
us
. Lots have things have been said over the last few weeks. But from the bottom of my heart I never meant to hurt you and I
don’t think you’ve meant to hurt me either, but please,
please
let me …’ I have to stop for a moment and close my eyes. ‘I can’t do it …’ my voice is barely more than a whisper. ‘I love
him. I couldn’t be more sorry for everything … but I don’t know what more I can say. Please just let me go. Please.’

There really isn’t anything more
to
say. I hang up and just sit there, hoping he’s going to text or call me.

He doesn’t.

* * *

The following morning I get dressed in a daze. He’s back today.

I switch my phone on. The first call I get is from Antony, who formally invites me to consider redundancy. The day is shaping
up beautifully. ‘I’m so sorry to have to do this just before the Christmas party,’ he says, the shame audible in his voice.
I feel dreadful for him and want to tell him that really, it’s the least of my worries. ‘Please don’t feel bad, Antony, you’re
only doing your job. Does everyone else know?’

‘Yes they do. Pearce hasn’t taken it quite as well as you,’ he jokes, but sadly. ‘Will you give him a ring if you get chance?
Make sure he’s bearing up? Listen,’ he hesitates, ‘I didn’t say this, Molly, but don’t accept the offer, all right? Trust
me on this. It’ll all make sense.’

Pearce doesn’t pick up when I call him, so I just leave him a message saying I hope he’s OK.

No need to worry about me. He texts back. Guess I have to learn to look out for number one now. Intend to be drunk and unsuitable
tomorrow just so you know. Bastards.

But then, five minutes later I get:

Sorry. Didn’t mean it. Shouldn’t be a c**t to you. See you tomorrow. Will be on best behaviour. Promise. X

Poor old bloke.

Then another text arrives.

Leo.

I stop breathing and, terrified, I open it.

I’ve had enough of this.

‘That’s all it says?’ Joss is as thrown as me. ‘I’ve had enough of this’? Her silent confusion carries down the line from
London. ‘Is that supposed to mean he’s had enough, he’s on his way over – or he’s had enough, the whole thing’s off?’

‘I don’t know.’ I stare at the five little words and feel the smallest glimmer of hope. ‘You really think that might be what
he means? He’s somehow decided this is just not worth it?’

‘Maybe. That’d be a very Leo thing to do, decide at the last minute that he’s bored and just fancies walking away, because
he can. I guess we’ll just have to wait out the rest of the day and see.’

‘You’re sure you’re all right?’ Dan looks at me curiously, head resting on his pillow. ‘You’ve just been very, I don’t know
– skittish tonight.’

‘Skittish?’ I can’t help smiling.

‘Are you excited about your work do tomorrow night?’ he makes a face. ‘If so, we need to start getting out more, it’d be too
sad if this actually is a highlight on our social calendar.’

‘Oh, that reminds me,’ I say. ‘Work – Antony called me today. Asked me to consider voluntary redundancy—’

‘WHAT?!’ Dan lifts his head up in shock.

‘—but it’s fine, he gave me the wink too.’

‘Oh,’ Dan relaxes back down. ‘Meaning you’ll be OK?’

‘I assume so. That’s good isn’t it?’ I say happily.

‘Very,’ he says, relieved. ‘No wonder you’re smiling.’ He looks at me again. ‘Nothing else has happened, has it?’ he asks.

‘No,’ I allow myself a smile. ‘Nothing has happened at all.’

And nothing happens the following day either. No messages, no calls – nothing. It’s like being told a devastating cyclone
is heading straight for you, bracing yourself because there is nothing else you can do but wait for it to hit, only to be
told it has randomly switched course at the last moment and you’ve been spared. I can’t believe it – is it really possible,
just like that, Leo could decide to walk away? Maybe what I said in my last message struck a cord with him … I suppose I’ll
never know. But I can certainly live with that.

As I’m drying my hair with forty minutes to go before we have to be at my work do – it should only take us twenty to get to
the hotel – it occurs to me that Dan’s cutting it a bit fine.

I’m just deciding I’ll give him another five and then
I’ll call him to see where he is, when I hear a thump. Immediately on guard, I switch the hairdryer off and listen, but all
that reaches me is Mel next door saying warningly, ‘Jack! No! Naughty!’

My hair is practically done anyway and I don’t really want to put the dryer back on. Instead, I cross the room and get a pair
of tights out of the drawer and sit down on the edge of the bed, threading them over my hands to check for ladders, when I
definitely
hear the front door open.

‘Dan?’ I shout. No answer – all I hear is feet bounding up the stairs towards me, fast.

He bursts into our bedroom to find me sat frozen on the bed in my bra and knickers, hands still buried in the tights.

‘Hello!’ he grins, as he marches round the bed, suit jacket tails swinging jauntily in the manner of a man who has just leapt
off a Lear jet and driven at a hundred miles an hour to make it back for the ambassador’s reception. ‘They go on your legs,
not your hands,’ he nods at the tights, before leaning in to kiss me. ‘Were you worried I wasn’t going to make it in time?
The train was late. Have I got time for a quick shower before we go?’ he looks enquiringly at me. ‘Doesn’t matter if we haven’t,
I’ll just put on a clean shirt.’

‘I – we – have to leave in about ten minutes.’ My mind has defrosted and become a blancmange in a glass box, slopping against
the sides uselessly. For some stupid reason, when he didn’t answer straight away, I thought it was
Leo running up the stairs – I
so
thought it was him. It’s going to take me a little while to accept it’s all over I think.

I reach for my dress.

‘Oh, you’re wearing that one are you?’ Dan says, slightly disappointed, as he tucks his shirt in.

‘Why, what’s wrong with it?’ I’m now completely thrown.

‘Nothing,’ he shrugs. ‘It’s just a bit … Why don’t you wear your red one?’

‘I haven’t worn that for years!’

‘I know,’ he says, ‘which is a shame because I really like it – go on, it’s a party! Don’t wear black, everyone’s depressed
enough at the minute without you turning up looking like a grieving widow.’ He reaches into the wardrobe and fumbles about,
before pulling it out triumphantly and passing it to me.

I take it doubtfully.

‘Trust me,’ he insists.

Moments after I’ve shoehorned myself into it I want to rip it off again. I’ve clearly added a few comfortable pounds here
and there since I last wore it, so it’s not so much as clinging over my boobs as hanging on for dear life, the tummy and hips
aren’t too bad, but – no, no, no.

‘It’s too booby,’ I insist, ‘There are clients going.’

‘Too booby?’ Dan looks confused. ‘You’ve worn it to weddings and
christenings
now I think about it. You look amazing and it’s a lot better than that gloomy black thing.
It’s Christmas, Moll.’ He peers at me more curiously. ‘What’s wrong? Why don’t you want to wear it?’

‘Fine,’ I say hastily, before he can pick up on any more of my unsettled vibes. ‘I’ll wear it. Let’s just go.’

Dan decides to drive and laughs as my tummy does an immense, audible rumble in the dark car. ‘Bloody hell,’ he says. ‘I hope
they’ve got food there, and a lot of it.’

I am actually inexplicably starving, but eating anything in this dress is out of the question. I should have worn the black
one. I look like Jessica Rabbit’s much older and fatter sister.

When we arrive at the small hotel and park at the back, Dan climbs out of the car and comes round to open my door for me,
patting my bottom flirtily as I walk ahead of him towards the hotel. He’s in a good mood.

A stifling, slightly sweaty warmth greets us as we step into the busy bar. I get a few mildly surprised looks at my showy
dress, from blokes clutching pints, which makes me feel, quite literally, a complete tit. They’re probably expecting me to
get a portable CD player out and start a festive strip.

I hurriedly cross my arms over my chest – which doesn’t really help matters – and practically throw myself into the private
room, Dan following behind me. It’s surprisingly buzzy in here too – there must be a good sixty-odd people, but it feels like
more because the room is blatantly too small to accommodate everyone. I smile hello at a couple of the nicer doctors who I
recognise
immediately and introduce them to Dan who cheerfully begins to chat away. A waitress passes by with a tray of what looks like
mulled wine, but I don’t really fancy one. It smells quite nauseatingly sweet and I shake my head. Dan gives me an approving
wink, but takes one himself, listening carefully to a doctor who is already in full flow.

Another client comes over to greet me – seriously, there are loads of them here, are free booze dos really that thin on the
ground this year? – starting to lecture me about how he still hasn’t received the order that he placed over two weeks ago;
how very full of festive cheer he is. I let my eyes flicker round the room. Pearce is propping up the bar rather than mingling,
oh dear. Antony is nodding thoughtfully, as a rather angular woman is waving a full glass around to make her point – which
is obviously irritating Antony’s capable wife as she tries to dodge splashes.

‘So what do you say to that, then?’ The GP asks me.

I drag my attention back to him, his breath absolutely reeks of stale coffee, but I have no idea what he’s just said to me
– I wasn’t listening.

‘I agree with you, one hundred per cent.’

He looks appalled. ‘Do you think this is some kind of joke?’ He reminds me a bit of Michael. I have obviously said exactly
the wrong thing. ‘Just make sure the order reaches me before Christmas or it’ll be the last one I place.’ Tetchily he shoves
his glass down, gives me a final glare and marches off.

‘All right?’ Dan says appearing back by my side and places a comfortable hand on my waist.

‘Yeah,’ I make a face, ‘although I’ve just said something accidentally inappropriate to a client.’

‘Oh?’ Dan looks amused. ‘What?’

But before I can answer, Pearce comes over. To a stranger, he would look perfectly relaxed, his slow wide smile is almost
sleepy and calm, but peering quickly at his very dark eyes, I can see he’s actually pretty pissed.

‘Hi, mate.’ He is very slightly slurring but making an effort to hide it. ‘Good to see you again,’ he extends a hand and Dan
shakes it firmly and says, ‘You too.’ I can’t remember the last time they met. Was it this time last year?

‘So, this is fun isn’t it?’ Pearce does a double thumbsup and a big fake grin. ‘We’re probably not going to have jobs next
year but hey, let’s celebrate anyway!’ Then he looks at me, frowns and points at my empty hands, ‘And why are you without
a drink Moll? Let me rectify that oversight immediately.’

‘I’ll do that,’ Dan says briskly. ‘Pearce, what can I get you?’

‘Very kind of you, sir,’ Pearce says elaborately. I see Dan’s eyebrow flicker as he tries to work out if Pearce is taking
the piss or not. ‘I’ll have a Jameson’s, seeing as you’re going that way.’