Chapter 19
19
‘We’re low on tomatoes and olives and that funny Italian ham stuff and feta cheese and…’ Marisa began as she looked through the fridge.
It was a few days after the Twitchers Association sandwiches and the new bread supplier was proving reliable and reasonably priced. The guy who delivered the bread was called Robert and he was at least sixty. George was confident he wouldn’t try to hit on her.
‘Basically everything then. I’ll check the bookings, see what we need for those and get down the cash and carry,’ George told Marisa.
George’s phone beeped and Marisa raised her eyebrows.
‘Your phone’s never gone off this much ever. It’s like going off every ten minutes,’ Marisa exclaimed.
George picked it up and looked at it.
Need 2 c u recreation ground ten minutes Qx
George deleted the message and looked up at the clock.
‘Why did you look at the clock?’ Marisa enquired.
‘To see what time it is,’ George replied, putting her coat on.
‘Are you going to the cash and carry now?’ Marisa asked as George put her phone in her coat pocket .
‘No, I er, think we’re out of milk for coffee. I’ll just pop out and get some,’ George said, going to the door and letting herself out.
‘Milk? Well there was like loads of milk this morning – George, there’s almost six pints here,’ Marisa called, taking a large carton out of the fridge.
Helen was out on a driving lesson in the brand-new van, as her car was in the garage. George had no choice but to walk. It was almost ten minutes to the recreation ground and it was raining again.
Quinn had texted her intermittently since his late-night visit from Manchester, but her mind had been occupied with concern for her mother. Adam had texted her too, most days, enquiring when she was going home for a roast dinner. She hadn’t even picked up the phone to her parents. She didn’t know how to. What did you say to someone who had disliked you intensely for so many years? And what did you say to that person now you knew they had a life-threatening condition? What did you say if that person was also your mother? She had made a promise to Adam, but she didn’t really know if she was going to be able to keep it.
She pulled the hood of her coat up over her head and hurried down the street, periodically looking at her watch.
She got to the recreation ground and stood next to the pavilion. There were a gang of teenagers on mountain bikes, trying to bunny hop over the small metal fence; there were toddlers and their mothers on the swings and there was a group of children playing football on the pitch despite the drizzle. Ordinary people going about their ordinary lives, while she waited for goodness knows what to happen in hers.
She heard the helicopter before she saw it. It appeared out of the clouds and began to slowly descend onto the football pitch. All the children were looking up in amazement at the machine coming down onto the grass. In the end, they fled further down the field to avoid getting blown over by the wind it was creating.
It landed and George hurried over to it, ducking her head to try and avoid the draft from the rotor blades. The door opened and Quinn appeared.
‘Hop in,’ he urged, holding out his hand to her.
‘Where are we going?’ George yelled over the noise.
‘Up there,’ Quinn said, pointing to the sky.
He pulled her up into the aircraft and, as rapidly as it set down, the helicopter began to rise again. The children pointed and shouted, trying to see who it was, and George desperately looked around for a seat belt.
‘You’ll have to put these on!’ Quinn yelled, passing her a set of 1980s-style headphones.
She put them over her ears and moved the mouthpiece to her lips.
‘You’re lucky I’m here on time; I had to walk,’ she informed.
‘Sorry. I had a window of opportunity; I had to take it,’ Quinn replied.
‘I haven’t heard from you for a few days. Is my appeal wearing off?’ George asked as light-heartedly as possible.
‘No, of course not. Roger flew in. He’s been with me twenty-four-seven, literally. I did try and message you from the bathroom last night but no signal,’ Quinn said with a smile.
‘So…’
‘So I’m flying back to the States today. I have to be at the airport in two hours, actually,’ Quinn explained.
‘Oh,’ George answered.
‘And that’s where I’ll be until the wedding.’
‘Sure.’
‘And not even I can conjure up a helicopter that can cross the Atlantic in double-quick time every time I need to see you,’ Quinn told her .
‘Are you sure?’ George asked with a laugh.
‘Hey, don’t think I haven’t looked into it,’ Quinn said.
George looked at him and he took hold of her hands.
‘God, what am I doing?’ he asked, squeezing her hands tightly.
‘Travelling down from the other end of the UK in a helicopter? Yep, I have to admit I thought it was pretty over the top the first time,’ George joked.
‘No, leaving you,’ Quinn responded, looking at George, a weight of emotion in his expression.
‘Quinn, you have to go. You and me, we’re a fantasy. A really good fantasy but a fantasy all the same,’ George told him.
‘Is that what you really feel?’
‘That’s how it is,’ George said hurriedly.
‘Is it?’
‘It can’t be anything else.’
‘What if it could?’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘I don’t know,’ Quinn said, letting out a frustrated sigh.
‘I can’t help you unless you tell me,’ George reminded him.
‘I can’t tell you unless you help me,’ Quinn told her, fixing her with his blue eyes.
‘What d’you want me to do?’ George asked.
‘Stop me getting married,’ Quinn replied.
George looked at him, gathering in everything his face was telling her with its expression. She wanted to say the right thing, but she didn’t even know what that was.
‘I can’t do that. Only you can do that, if it really isn’t what you want,’ she finally spoke.
‘Of course it isn’t what I want! Would you want to be married to her? Would you want to hear about handbags and haute couture and who’s wearing what at the latest celebrity hangout?’ Quinn snapped angrily.
‘She must love you,’ George replied.
‘She loves the brand we are. Did you know, just after the wedding, we’re releasing his and hers fragrances called Ever After?’ Quinn asked.
‘That sounds terrible. What does it smell like?’
‘I’ve no idea,’ Quinn answered, letting go of her hand and putting one hand to his forehead.
‘Why don’t you tell her the truth? Tell her you aren’t ready for marriage. She might surprise you and understand,’ George suggested hopefully.
‘You’ve met her. She wouldn’t understand and Roger, well he certainly wouldn’t understand,’ Quinn told her.
‘Then…’
‘I guess all I can do is pray for a plague of locusts or a tsunami to wipe out the whole of La Manga,’ Quinn said, putting a hopeful smile on his face.
‘That’s a bit drastic.’
‘Drastic times call for drastic measures.’
George let out a sigh.
‘Are you OK? There’s something on your mind other than table settings, isn’t there?’ Quinn queried.
‘No, not really. I’ve just got some stuff going on right now, that’s all,’ George began.
‘What stuff?’ Quinn asked, looking at her with concern.
‘It’s just family stuff. I’m probably going to be tied up for the next few weeks. So maybe space between us is a good thing,’ George suggested.
‘You think?’
‘Yes.’
‘I don’t.’
Quinn smothered her mouth with his, kissing her passionately and holding onto her as the helicopter carried on circling the playing field .
‘I want to help with this family stuff. What is it?’ Quinn spoke, searching for the answer in her eyes.
George shook her head, unable to find the words.
‘George, come on, tell me,’ Quinn urged.
‘It’s fine – it’s just – my mother’s ill and she needs an operation and…’ George began.
She stopped talking to gulp in a breath and it was then she realised she was crying. Her shoulders were shaking with sobs and tears were spilling from her eyes like someone had turned on a fire hydrant.
‘Hey, George, tell me what’s going on here. Let me in,’ Quinn begged as he wrapped her in his embrace and tried to soften her anguish.
George shook her head. She couldn’t tell him; there wasn’t enough time to even get started on everything she needed to say and she wasn’t certain he was the first person who should hear it.
‘I don’t want to leave you like this,’ Quinn said, stroking her hair away from her face and wiping her tears from her cheeks with his thumbs.
‘Go. You have to get your flight. I’m fine,’ George insisted, sniffing the tears away as best she could.
‘I know you’re not.’
‘Go on. Get out of here,’ George ordered, restoring some of her composure.
‘I’ll call you,’ Quinn said as he indicated to the pilot to take the helicopter back down.
‘It doesn’t matter, if you can’t. I mean, you’ll be having suit fittings and choosing flowers and stuff and believe me, I’ve catered enough weddings to know exactly how long all that takes,’ George said using the sleeve of her top to wipe her face.
‘Don’t,’ Quinn said.
‘It’s going to happen unless you do something about it. I’m submitting the ingredients list at the end of the week,’ George told him .
‘At least the food will be awesome,’ he answered solemnly.
The helicopter landed and Quinn took hold of her hand and placed it on his chest.
‘I am yours George, no matter what you think. I’m yours in here,’ he said, looking at her sincerely.
George swallowed, took his hand and placed it over her heart.
‘I wish you were,’ she replied sadly, taking off the headphones.
She kissed his mouth, touching his cheek with her hand and then she pulled the door of the chopper open and jumped down.
She put her hood over her head and hurried back towards the road, trying to avoid the uneven clumps in the turf. With every step, she tried to forget that every rotation of the helicopter’s blades was taking him further away from her. Right now, she hated herself. She had broken down, she had sobbed over him, about her mother, over everything that had happened in her past. She hadn’t shed a tear since Paul left, until today. She was usually stronger than that and she had to be. It was the only way she survived.
He watched her from the helicopter for as long as he could. She’d been so vulnerable. It had felt like he was holding her heart in his hands and throwing it back at her. He was an idiot. What was he doing? He was making things worse for everyone. He was defying Roger, cheating on Taylor and screwing George up at the same time. But what else could he do? He was fucked no matter what he did.