Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
O nce we’ve filled up on delicious afternoon tea treats, Lottie and I return to the spa for the rest of our treatments, including having side-by-side pedicures, while laughing and chatting away. It’s such a companionable experience. We’re two ladies of vastly different generations – but with so much that connects us.
Later, as I’m helping her back into the limousine, I can’t help thinking that Lottie looks paler and more tired than when she arrived. Concerned that the day should have had the opposite effect, I ask if she’s all right, but she waves my worries away.
‘I’m just old, my love. This has been one of the most glorious days in my lifetime. I will treasure this memory for the rest of my days – however many I have left.’
‘Oh, stop it, ’ I squeal, starting to well up. ‘Don’t say things like that. I’m so glad you enjoyed it, though. Safe journey home and I’ll call you tomorrow.’ I close the door and the car pulls away smoothly.
Returning to my suite, I spend the next ten minutes marvelling at how, as Sammy promised, I’m looking and feeling better than ever. The combined therapeutic effect of my treatments and opening up to Lottie about Dave has caused all my tension, aching exhaustion and stress to dissipate, leaving me relaxed and revitalised. My previously puffy eyes now look healthy and hydrated, and my skin – which smells all zingy and wonderful – is almost luminous. I also can’t stop looking, in delight, at my hands and feet, so youthful and beautiful, sporting matching nude gel nails. And it might just be me, but I think I do look slightly slimmer after my body wrap.
Deciding that I want Dave to see what he’s been missing out on, I put on some makeup (my current signature evening look, which I’m hoping to refresh on my shopping spree tomorrow), the best cleavage enhancing top I have and the designer jeans he bought me (which will soon be destined for a charity shop), then I fluff my hair up with some of my styling product.
Appearance sorted, I chill out watching TV for half an hour before taking the lift to the ground floor, all the while retaining my Zen state. Nothing is going to rile me now. Not even him.
On entering the tasteful, seductively lit bar – ten minutes late, to let him sweat a bit – I can see Dave sitting at a table in the far corner, facing the window. My pulse quickens, making me hesitate, and I’m annoyed that, even after the way he’s behaved, he can still have that effect on me.
Come on, Emma, you’ve got this. He’s the one that asked you here and he has no power over you anymore. Keep an open mind. Hear him out. But protect your heart, as Lottie said.
Unfortunately, this impromptu pep talk only half works, because the problem is, I’m so mixed up and confused by this unexpected liaison, I don’t know whether I love him, hate him, want to fall into his arms or kick him in the balls. On that basis, I decide that saying as little as possible is the way to go. I need to be cool and indifferent.
Dave must sense my entrance, because he shifts round in his seat, eyes following me as I self-consciously approach the table and sit down. This is even more awkward than I imagined it would be.
‘Hi,’ I greet him as casually as possible, while noticing that he’s already bought us drinks: a red wine for me and a beer for him.
‘Hi, Emma. You look… great.’
‘Thanks.’ I touch my cheek shyly. ‘I fancied some proper pampering at a beauty salon and it’s done me the world of good.’
‘It was clearly worth the money.’ His gaze lingers on me, and I feel an involuntary flutter in my stomach. ‘Do you still need to go at seven? It doesn’t leave us much time to talk.’
‘It’s fine. My plans have shifted. I have an extra half-hour.’
‘OK, good. Cheers.’ He lifts his glass, tilting it towards mine.
‘Is this really a “cheers” moment?’ I fix him with a questioning look.
‘Why not? For old time’s sake? I’ve missed our little rituals.’
My heart nearly stops. He’s what? Is that code for he’s missed me ?
‘I suppose.’ I clink his glass, remaining outwardly calm and collected, while my insides are riding a roller-coaster.
‘So, how have you been?’
‘Fine. You?’
‘Just “fine”?’ He gives me a searching look.
‘Yeah. Just fine. And you?’
There’s no way I’m telling him anything about the last month; no need for him to know what a state I was in after we split up. And I definitely don’t want him knowing anything about my lottery win, particularly as he hasn’t yet shared his motives for being here.
‘Well, I guess I’ve been “fine” too,’ he says. ‘But I’ve also missed having you around.’
There it is again. He’s missed me. There’s no way that can be misinterpreted. The question is, has he missed me for real, or because he’s somehow heard about my overnight wealth?
‘Is that actually true?’ I raise a sceptical eyebrow.
‘Of course.’ He looks at me like I’ve gone mad. ‘You can’t be with someone all that time and not miss them when they’re gone. I realised… I’d been selfish towards the end. I didn’t appreciate all the good stuff until you weren’t there anymore. I’m sorry for that, Emma. I shouldn’t have treated you like that – especially making up the trip to France. That was cruel.’
I’m shocked into silence, but my mind is whirring like a hard drive. Dave, who has never once apologised to me, has just said sorry. And he’s admitted to being selfish too. This is a revelation. Could it be that he really has had a wakeup call and changed? Maybe we do have a chance at making it work, because let’s face it, everyone makes mistakes. It’s whether they learn from them that counts.
‘Oh… right… well… yes, you were selfish.’ I nod my head reprovingly, while struggling to keep my composure. ‘And it was cruel making up the trip to France, but… I do appreciate you making the effort to apologise.’
Dave seems pleased with my response, so I lighten the tone.
‘What have you been up to, then?’
‘Not much, really.’ He shrugs. ‘Was away for the weekend with the guys there. Stag do. Been busy at work. That’s about it. You?’
‘Nothing major to report either. Nights out with the girls, that sort of thing.’
Having already exhausted the here and now, our conversation shifts to more familiar territory, chatting about old times, and very quickly, it’s like we’ve been transported back to the early days of our relationship. Dave’s blatantly flirting with me and I’m giving it back just as good. Pushing all anxieties regarding his motives out of my mind, I allow myself to relax and enjoy being with him again, because despite what I said about being better off without him, this moment feels so right.
‘So, anyway…’ I’m reluctant to break the spell between us, but as it’s evident he wants us to get back together, I’m keen to hear what he has to say on the matter. ‘Why are we here, Dave? There must be a reason.’
‘I’ll get to that.’ He takes a slug from his beer, waving my question away. ‘How’s work going?’
I freeze, unsure how to answer. After rapidly weighing things up, I decide it won’t do any harm to tell the truth on this one. I don’t need to mention my win. People quit their jobs for all sorts of reasons.
‘Erm… no idea. I quit.’
‘ Really? ’ He looks shocked, but I clock straight away that it’s not genuine.
‘You already know.’ I give him an affectionate push.
‘OK, I admit it. I know.’
‘How? Did you bump into one of the girls?’ I’m smiling, but there’s something starting to gnaw at me. A slight suspicion. Brushing it away, I put it down to uneasiness with the whole situation. Giving him another chance – if I decided to – would be a controversial move. My parents certainly wouldn’t approve, and Amber would kick off big style. But Dave’s showing a new side – one that proves he can change, be a better person. They’ll eventually see it too.
‘Nope, haven’t seen any of them,’ he says.
‘You talked to someone from my work?’ I sip at my wine, while continuing to quiz him.
‘Also, a negative.’
‘Oh, come on. How did you know?’
‘I bumped into your mum and dad’s next-door neighbours in town the day before yesterday. They were down here for a day trip. Don’t think they knew we’d split up.’
‘ Oh. ’ There’s that uneasy feeling again.
‘They’re insufferable bores those two.’ Dave acts out a fake yawn to illustrate his point. ‘They have nothing going on in their own sad little lives, so they entertain themselves by gossiping about other people. Every time I was at your parents’ house, their curtains were twitching…’
As he continues his character assassination of my parents’ neighbours, which I have to admit is pretty spot on, my uneasiness grows and grows – until something dawns on me. There’s no way my status-obsessed mother would have told the neighbours about me quitting my job without telling them about my lottery win. And Dave’s quite right. Mum and Dad’s neighbours are as gossipy as my mum, which means they must have brought it up. They’d be fishing for information. I suddenly feel sick to my stomach. This may not be the potential reunion I thought it was, and if I’m right, then I’m going to have to call him on it.
‘What else did they say?’ I encourage him to dig himself into a bigger hole, while keeping my tone even.
‘Not much really.’ He shrugs. ‘That was about it. I tuned out after a few minutes. They could have been talking about being kidnapped by aliens for all I know.’
‘Really? They didn’t say anything else?’
‘No… no, I’m fairly sure that was it…’ He makes a show of searching his memory, but I can see right through his fakery and it makes me angry. He really is a piece of work, trying to manipulate me like this.
‘ What a crock of shit! ’ I cry out, shocking even myself.
‘Sorry?’
‘I said… what a crock of shit .’ The barman gives me a look and I lower my voice. ‘You know about my win.’
Dave obviously realises he’s been caught out and tries to cover it up. ‘All right, you got me… I just wanted to give you the chance to tell me your exciting news yourself.’
‘Really?’ I desperately want to believe this, but I know it’s not true. ‘Do you want to know what I think? I think you heard about my money, decided you fancied a bit of it for yourself, and that’s why you’ve turned up like this, all charm and wanting to get back together. I was warned about this happening.’
‘What? No, Emma, you’ve got it all wrong—’
‘ Don’t you dare gaslight me, Dave! ’ My fury spills over, hurt and humiliation overriding my instincts to shuffle away quietly and pathetically. ‘How long were you going to keep up this charade? Until I’d spent a shedload of money on you? Or until we were married and then you could divorce me and take half? I knew you were selfish, but I never had you down as a full-on scumbag.’
I sit back in my chair, arms folded, waiting for the lies to continue. I’m shaking inside, almost faint from finding out I’ve been duped. But I’m determined not to lose this one.
‘Are you quite finished?’ he asks in his irritatingly superior way, clearly already over being caught out .
I nod, tight-lipped, eyes locked on his.
‘Where did you get the idea that I want to get back together? That’s the last thing I want. I finished with you for a reason, Emma, and that reason hasn’t changed. Plus, do you really think I’d be the one who benefitted most financially if we got married and divorced?’
Nausea washes over me like a cloak of doom. He never wanted to get back together at all. I’ve made a complete fool of myself.
‘You think I’ve come here with pound signs in my eyes?’ he all but growls. ‘Well, you’re right. I came to ask, quite reasonably, for the two grand you stole when you took that vintage red from my wine cupboard to drown your sorrows. I noticed that one quickly, though sadly, not fast enough. Thought we could have had a laugh about it and settle things like adults, especially now you’re flush, but clearly, I was wrong.’
In my mortification, I nearly miss the fact that I was right about everything else: just not about him wanting to rekindle our relationship under false pretences. When this registers, I’m so outraged that I spring back into action.
‘So, you were after my win,’ I shout, ignoring another look from the barman. ‘All this apologising, reminiscing, being charming. It was about the money – about getting me to pay you back for the wine I… took.’
‘Look, Emma, I just want what I’m owed, and I was being serious about—’
‘ You manipulative bastard. ’ I cut him off before he can spin me any more lies. ‘You’re still totally and utterly selfish. Everything is about you . You can more than afford to write off that wine… a small price to pay for treating me like shit. But your greed won’t allow that, will it? I’m sorry I took your wine. It’s not like I knew what it was worth. If I did, I wo uld never have touched it. I was trying to cope with having my heart broken, but you’re too self-obsessed to understand that. If it’s that important to you, I’ll happily buy you another bottle, but I’m not going to hand you two grand.’
Dave, who until now, has been the calmer of the two of us, starts to spit with rage. ‘You little cow . Got a quid or two and now you think you’re it? Well, let me bring you down a peg or two. You were a complete pain in the arse and I was relieved to see the back of you. I haven’t missed you – at all . You want to know why I made up the trip to France? To shut you up while I could figure out how to get rid of you. You think you know me so well, but you didn’t even see what was going on right under your nose…’ He tails off, a nasty, satisfied glint in his eye.
‘Wh… what do you mean?’ I feel myself starting to shake.
‘You asked me if there was anyone else… well, there was. For a year-and-a-half and still going strong. She’s a much better laugh than you ever were.’
Although I’d already sensed what was coming, this blow winds me. So much so that I feel like I’m going to throw up.
‘How… could … you? ’ I can barely get the words out. ‘What did I do to deserve that? It was Melissa, wasn’t it? I knew it.’
Dave stares at me defiantly, his eyes now cold and unforgiving. ‘Nope, not Melissa.’
He’s won and he knows it. He may not have his two grand, but he’s completely undermined my attempt to stand up to him, as well as destroyed my trust in men, perhaps for good.
‘So, who?’
‘None of your god damn business.’
I’m devastated, humiliated and livid at the same time, tears flowing down my cheeks. Conversely, Dave’s face is smug. He’s actually enjoying ripping me to shreds. I need to get the hell out of here.
‘Enjoy your night out,’ he sneers.
This is the final straw for me. I scrape back my chair so hard that it topples to the floor with a loud clatter. Then, I run out of the bar sobbing, and don’t stop until I’ve reached my room – my sultry come-to-bed look replaced by a pair of Halloween-style zombie eyes.