Things We Never Say (11 page)

She took another towel from the rail and rubbed it briskly over her head. She wore her hair shorter these days and usually allowed it to dry naturally. So instead of using the professional turbo dryer in the drawer, she squeezed some serum from a tube and rubbed it through her damp locks. Then she padded into the bedroom and pulled on a vest top and a pair of baggy trousers before heading to the kitchen and using Pete and Claudia’s gleaming top-of-the-range Nespresso machine to make herself a cup of coffee. She brought the coffee and a pastry she took from the cupboard out on to the first-floor deck.

The morning view of the bay from the deck never failed to take her breath away. She watched the tip of the Golden Gate Bridge appear and then disappear again as the receding fog swirled around it, while the sky grew brighter and brighter as the sun burned away the clouds and mist. And in the distance, she could see the grid of San Francisco itself as it got ready for another day.

She drained her coffee, then carried her cup and plate back into the kitchen and stacked them in the stainless-steel dishwasher. It was time for her to be part of the day too. Time to start living her life again.

She took Battle for his morning walk to the bottom of the hill and back, allowing her thoughts to wander skittishly as he tugged at the leash. Then she made sure he was secure in the garden with a bowl of water and another of dried food before letting herself in to Pete’s enormous double garage. His Lexus RX was parked beside Claudia’s convertible, but Abbey wasn’t interested in the cars. She was borrowing Pete’s Honda motorbike, which would get her to the salon in about twenty minutes.

The bike was Pete’s pride and joy. When he’d first acquired it, Abbey had asked him if he was trying to regain his lost youth. Pete had looked slightly abashed and then said that you were only as old as you felt and he still felt about twenty. He’d offered to give her a ride, telling her that there was nothing like the exhilaration that being on a bike gave you. Abbey had been sceptical, but once she’d had a spin around the streets, she was hooked. She bought herself a full set of biking leathers (she’d once thought that it was the sight of her in full leather gear that had made Cobey think she was the girl for him – he said that she looked unbelievably hot wearing them), and whenever she visited Pete, he would allow her to take the bike for a ride.

She threw her leg over the saddle, pointed the remote at the garage doors, fired up the bike and set off towards the bridge. Crossing the bridge was her favourite part of the journey. She loved the buffeting of the wind and the buzz of the road stretching in front of her, water below. It was, she thought, the best way to start the day.

Pete had private parking in his office building and so she left the bike there before walking to the salon, thinking that maybe today was the day her heart would begin mending, because for the first time since Cobey’s desertion she was conscious of the warmth of the sun on her shoulders and she was noticing the people around her and the window displays in the stores again.

When she walked into the salon she said a chirpy hello to Selina, who beamed back at her, delighted that her favourite employee seemed to have finally come out of her misery. Relieved, too, because part of Abbey’s success as a member of staff was her unfailing cheerfulness towards her clients. Selina knew that Abbey’s smile had been forced recently and that she’d been struggling to keep it all together. But you have, she noted as she watched Abbey arrange the bottles of varnish on her desk. You have and I’m glad for you. And if I could get my hands on the man who took away your smile and your confidence, I’d wring his neck myself.

At two o’clock Abbey broke for lunch. She picked up a coffee and a wrap at Starbucks and ate sitting on the steps at Union Square. She watched the tourists jumping on and off the city tour buses and she counted herself lucky to be a native, not someone trying to cram in the San Francisco experience in a couple of days. Truly, she said to herself as she got up again, I’m incredibly lucky. This thing with Cobey – well, broken hearts mend. I know they do.

‘Oh!’

She gasped as someone bumped into her, and then shouted as she realised that her cherry-red Kipling bag (which was her absolute favourite) had been snatched. The thief bounded down the steps while all around her people watched. And then, almost out of nowhere, a man grabbed the youth and prised the bag from his hand, allowing the thief to go free before returning it to Abbey.

‘I don’t believe that happened,’ she said as he handed it to her while the knot of people who’d been watching applauded. ‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’

‘I guess I was careless.’

‘He was opportunistic,’ said the man.

‘I shouldn’t have given him the opportunity. I’m usually far more alert. I was daydreaming.’

‘Because it’s a lovely day for it.’

His accent was unfamiliar, soft and gentle. He was anything but soft himself, though, Abbey thought as she looked at him. He was tall and muscular and was dressed in a 49ers T-shirt, faded jeans and Converse boots. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of Ray-Bans and the whole effect was Hollywood star on a dress-down day.

‘Isn’t it?’ she agreed. ‘I was thinking that San Francisco was the best place in the whole world to be right now. But …’

‘I’m sure it is,’ he said. ‘This sort of thing happens everywhere.’

‘I know. Nevertheless …’ She fished in her bag for one of her cards. ‘If there’s anyone you know who’d like their nails done – or if you’d like a manicure yourself – please have one on me.’

His eyes widened as he took the card. ‘Do I look like a metrosexual man?’

‘You look like a fit man,’ she said, which made him laugh.

‘Abbey Andersen,’ he said out loud as he turned the card over in his hand (a hand on which, she noticed, the nails were short and well-kept). ‘Nail technician and artist.’ He put her card in his pocket. ‘I love how every job in America is a major career.’

‘Hey, nail care
is
a career,’ she told him. ‘
My
career.’

‘Sorry.’ He took off his sunglasses and looked at her apologetically from eyes that were moss-green. ‘I’m used to people being self-effacing and deprecating about what they do.’

‘You’re British, aren’t you?’ she said.

‘Irish,’ he amended.

‘Oh, wow. My grandparents were from Ireland.’ She beamed at him.

‘They were?’ His eyes lit up. ‘Where?’

‘Um … I’m not quite sure,’ she confessed. ‘Somewhere in the middle, I think.’

‘Offaly, Meath, Tipperary?’ He looked at her enquiringly.

She shrugged helplessly. ‘I don’t know. I never talked to them much about it.’

‘Never mind,’ he said. ‘You should visit us one day.’

‘Perhaps.’

‘Lots of people come to Ireland to look for their roots,’ he said.

‘I’ve never thought that much about mine,’ she told him.

‘Oh, but roots are interesting,’ he said. ‘You should think about it. Meantime, if I suddenly find the need to get my nails done while I’m here, I’ll definitely come in to your salon.’

‘Great,’ she said. ‘I promise I’ll send you out like a new man.’

Although, she thought, after he’d shaken her hand, said goodbye and melted into the crowd, you’re not half a bad one the way you are.

After finishing work for the day, Abbey met Solí and Vanessa for pizza at Chiopino’s and told them about the have-a-go hero in Union Square.

‘Shoulda got his number,’ said Solí. ‘Being as he was all rugged and manly and you’re a single girl again.’

‘He has mine.’ Abbey grinned at her. ‘I gave him my card so he could have a comp treatment. Though regardless of the looks, I don’t think he’s a treatment sort of guy. A bit too European, you know?’

‘I love that sexy British accent,’ said Vanessa.

‘He was Irish,’ Abbey reminded her. ‘But the accent was still cute.’

‘Well, the encounter certainly seems to have cheered you up,’ observed Solí. ‘In fact you’re looking a lot better.’

‘I feel better,’ said Abbey as she poured herself a glass of water from the jug on the table. ‘Not exactly great yet. But definitely better.’

‘How’s life in Sausalito?’ asked Vanessa. ‘You all right all on your own in the house?’

‘You know Pete. He has the most up-to-date security imaginable,’ replied Abbey. ‘It would be lovely to be able to afford a place like that.’

‘It’s pretty awesome,’ agreed Vanessa. She was an accounts executive at the bank where Pete’s firm had its business, and had been at a small party Pete had thrown a few months previously. ‘I love the way the windows go opaque so you can’t see through them.’

‘Pete loves his high-tech stuff,’ said Abbey. She added more water to her glass, then nodded her agreement at Solí’s suggestion of sharing a couple of pizzas between the three of them. ‘I’ll miss it when I leave.’

‘Any luck in finding a new apartment?’ asked Solí.

‘Not so far.’ Abbey made a face. ‘Rental in this city is beyond a joke.’

‘You know you can stay with me while you’re looking,’ said Solí.

‘Yes, and thank you,’ answered Abbey. ‘But I’ve got to get somewhere permanent soon. And preferably not some run-down dingy dump.’

‘You certainly don’t want a dingy dump,’ said Vanessa. ‘You’ve outgrown dingy dumps.’

‘I’m struggling to find anything better,’ said Abbey.

‘Nobody you know looking to share?’

‘Not right now. And the thing is, I’d love somewhere of my own this time. OK, living with Cobey turned out to be a complete disaster, but it was cool to have a place with no restrictions, and where I didn’t only have one shelf in the fridge, or have to worry about sharing the bathroom.’

Vanessa understood perfectly. ‘I’d hate to be in that situation. Of course I’m lucky. Shawna and I have lived together all our lives, so sharing with her is normal for me.’

‘I’d love to say that I’d move out of the studio and share with you, but I’m pretty set in my ways,’ admitted Solí.

‘Which is totally OK,’ Abbey assured her. ‘I wouldn’t expect you to mess up your life for me. Hopefully I’ll find somewhere half decent before Pete and his family get back from their vacation. Claudia certainly won’t want me moping around the place, and I don’t blame her.’ Abbey took a couple of slices from the pizzas that the waitress had placed in front of them and ground black pepper over them before continuing. ‘I’m sure she looks at me and wonders why he bothers. I bet he wonders too! Here I am, nearly thirty, and I haven’t achieved anything worthwhile.’

‘What the hell are you talking about?’ demanded Solí. ‘You’re the best nail technician in the Bay Area, that’s for sure. And don’t tell me that’s not worthwhile, because I have a string of girls who say different.’

‘No doubt about it,’ Vanessa agreed. ‘Just about every woman in my bank goes to you for nail work. Marian Marinari waxes lyrical every time she comes back from her manicure.’

Abbey couldn’t help feeling pleased. ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I know that I’m good at nails. It’s … right now, I don’t feel so good about everything else. It’s like, having split with Cobey, I’m back at the bottom of the heap again.’

‘Hey, we don’t let men put us at the bottom of the heap!’ Solí wagged her finger with mock-severity in front of Abbey’s nose. Then her voice softened. ‘You’ll be all right, you know you will.’

‘I
do
know,’ Abbey agreed. ‘It’d be nice to feel as though I’d properly achieved something, is all.’

Vanessa looked at her thoughtfully. ‘You been talking to your mom lately?’

‘No.’

‘Because it’s usually when you do that that you go all doubtful about your life and stuff.’

‘I’m not doubtful,’ said Abbey.

Vanessa’s expression was only marginally less sceptical.

‘Are you still moping because of Cobey?’ asked Solí. ‘You’re not to be moping. No moping allowed here.’

Abbey held up her hands. ‘
So
not moping,’ she said. ‘
So
not putting myself down. Honestly, ladies, I’m good. I promise you.’

‘I hope you are,’ said Solí. ‘Chalk that man up to experience and get out there again.’

‘I’ve no intention of getting out there for a bit,’ said Abbey. ‘I need to let my bruised heart heal first.’ She drank some water, then put the glass down firmly on the table. ‘So c’mon. We’ve done nothing but talk about me. What about you guys? Anything to tell?’

The conversation moved away from Abbey to Vanessa’s run-in with the senior president of her department, a complete jackass, according to her, who wouldn’t know a good credit deal if ever he saw it. Then Solí, who’d studied art with Abbey and now worked for an auction house, talked about their forthcoming sale, which featured works from an up-and-coming New York artist.

‘When are they going to sell your work?’ asked Abbey.

‘Hey, you feature it enough already,’ said Solí.

‘It’s not quite the same,’ Abbey said. ‘Even though your cat picture is the most popular nail art in the salon.’

Abbey had used a painting her friend had done to create a template for a very distinctive nail art option. The Siamese cat, with its brilliant blue eyes and haughty expression, had turned into an absolute hit, being requested a couple of times a week by her clients.

‘You’re right.’ Vanessa stretched her elegant hands out in front of her. ‘When I had it done, everyone commented on it.’

‘Because it was on your nails and not a canvas,’ said Solí. ‘
King of Siam
is a nice painting but not a great one.’

‘Now who’s not being positive about her achievements?’ demanded Abbey. ‘What’s happening to us tonight, people? Am I a gloom merchant or something?’

‘Not at all.’ Vanessa looked sternly at Abbey and then at Solí. ‘Move the topic on. Did either of you see
Celebrity Meltdown
last night?’

‘Oh my God, yes!’ gasped Solí. ‘What were they like!’

And the conversation moved away from being self-critical to criticising other people, a far safer bet for the rest of the evening.

By the time the three friends said goodbye to each other, Abbey was feeling the positive glow they’d insisted she needed. She promised herself that she’d find a suitable apartment where she could live on her own and feel grown-up and independent. And perhaps she’d also take a new direction in her career by giving in and doing as Selina often suggested, entering one of the many competitions for nail technicians that took place around the country. Abbey had been reluctant before, both because she wasn’t naturally competitive and because she didn’t like leaving San Francisco for more than a day or two. She didn’t know if the latter was because she was tired of travelling, or if it was because she didn’t want to be away in case her mother came home unexpectedly. But the truth was that she couldn’t live her life on the off chance that her mom might turn up. And she’d liked travelling when she was younger. It was time to give serious thought to it again.