Chapter 14
GEORGIE
Her mum, Aunt Cathy and Val were barely out of the door, when Georgie slumped on one of the staffroom sofas and exhaled like her life depended on it.
This staffroom had been her place of refuge since she was a kid, and Jessie would bring them into work if Dad was on a job and she couldn’t find a babysitter.
Georgie and Grant had loved it – a TV in the corner, lots of snacks in the fridge, and they could wander into the salon and chat to clients who would invariably slip them a pound for sweets.
Grant came into the staffroom and plonked down on the opposite sofa. ‘And the Oscar for Best Sister Covering Up An Existential Crisis goes to…’
Georgie groaned. ‘Oh don’t. I’m exhausted. I feel like I’ve run a marathon. In the snow. While dancing to Abba’s greatest hits. What. A. Fricking. Day.’
She meant every word. And the worst part was that it still wasn’t over. The woman… That had been a shock she hadn’t seen coming. She’d truly thought it was someone looking for a quick cut or a gift card.
‘Can I help you? ’
‘Yes. Or at least I think so. I want to know if you’re sleeping with my boyfriend.’
Georgie knew she must have resembled a fish gasping for air as she’d attempted to process the question.
‘No!’ That had of course been her first reaction, hissed quietly so that the Weirbridge Bee Gees over at the mirrors wouldn’t hear her.
Then, even though she was absolutely confident of her innocence, given that she hadn’t slept with anyone but Flynn since the Spice Girls were in the charts, she’d immediately followed up with the obvious question of, ‘Who is your boyfriend?’
‘Flynn Dern.’
The whooshing noise had been the air leaving Georgie’s sails. Just at that, Cathy had run riot with the iPad again and the salon had been flooded with the opening bars of ‘Jump Around’.
‘Look, I do want to talk to you, and I’ll answer all your questions, but that’s my mother and her pals over there and if I don’t get back to them, they’ll be here in seconds demanding to know what’s going on.
They’ve never heard of boundaries. Anyway, give me an hour or so.
There’s a café across the road there if you want somewhere warm to grab a coffee and I’ll come and meet you as soon as I can get away. ’
There had been a hesitation that had worried Georgie for a second, but then she saw the woman’s gaze going to Jessie, Val and Cathy, all bopping up and down like they were at the Grammys, and she took a step backwards.
‘Okay. I’ll wait there. Please don’t forget to come.’
‘Trust me, there’s no danger of that,’ Georgie had assured her.
The woman had gone off, leaving Georgie to slap a smile on her face and spend the last hour acting carefree and jolly.
Now she felt broken inside and knew for sure that hairdressing had been the right choice, because her childhood fall-back plan of becoming an undercover spy was clearly not for her .
‘Well, for what it’s worth, I think you did great with those three.’ Grant tried to make her feel better.
‘Honestly, not telling her about the job offer is torture for me. I’ve spent my whole life discussing everything with Mum. We’ve spent every day together and I’m a chronic over-sharer. I’m rubbish at keeping secrets.’
And now she had one she was keeping from Grant too.
Even in her state of flux, she knew that telling him about the woman claiming to be Flynn’s girlfriend would be a mistake, given his prevailing opinion that her ex-husband was a twat.
Revealing this little nugget of info would only give Grant even more reasons to dislike him, and Georgie wasn’t ready to do that.
Maybe the woman was one of those fantasists from those Netflix documentaries.
Although, if she was, she might have been better to target someone a bit more exciting than Flynn Solar Panels Dern.
‘Are we going to talk more about the job offer, or do you want me to leave so you can comfort eat the rest of Mum’s Lindt chocolates and square this place up?’
She appreciated that he cared about her and wanted her to live her best life, but…
‘I’ll pick option number two. I’m not taking the job, Grant.
For all the reasons we talked about before.
There’s no way to make it make sense and I’m not going to be the one to risk this place after Mum spent her life protecting and cherishing it, and then passed it on to me. ’
He got up, moved from his little sofa to hers, and hugged her.
‘Now you’re getting the Oscar for Nicest Person In A Family Drama…
’ He planted a huge wet kiss on her cheek, then got up.
‘Sure you don’t want me to stay and help clean up?
I mean, I’d rather set my Prada snow boots on fire than brush a floor or scrub Cathy’s toner off that sink, but I’d do it for you. ’
Laughing, she shook her head. ‘I wouldn’t want to undermine your celebrity hairdresser status and gargantuan ego, so no, it’s fine. I’ll do it. Go help my daughter pick an outfit for tonight, and if it shows more than 50 per cent of her skin, I’ll kill you,’ she said sweetly.
He hugged her again. ‘Good to know. I’ll put her in a onesie.’ He was almost out of the door when he stopped. ‘You know, I miss you, sis. In case you were wondering.’
‘I miss you too,’ she replied truthfully, before resorting to their standard sibling dynamic and adding a cheeky, ‘And I wasn’t wondering because how could you not?’
Only when the bell at the front door confirmed his departure did she jump up from the couch, grab her coat from the row of pegs on the wall and her bag from the table.
The cleaning up could wait until tomorrow.
Her first client wasn’t in until 10a.m., and it was Mrs Dawson, former Weirbridge High School dinner lady, who was about ninety, short of sight, hard of hearing and took her knitting everywhere, so she wouldn’t notice or care if the place wasn’t up to its usual pristine standards.
The snow was still falling, but council gritters had been up Main Street, so the thick white blanket had been replaced by a grey, gritty sludge that crackled as Georgie trudged across the road to the Once Upon A Time Café.
This whole impending scenario was giving her mixed feelings.
On the one hand, she hoped that the woman had realised this was some kind of mistake and done a runner – but, on the other hand, if Flynn was in a fully-fledged relationship while trying to win her back, then she wanted to know about it.
When Georgie pushed open the door, her hopes of the woman bailing on the meeting were dashed.
There she was. She was the only customer in the café, and she’d chosen a table in the corner, furthest away from the counter, beside the glistening tree with its garlands of twinkling lights.
She’d taken her jacket and hat off now and Georgie could see she was in maybe her late twenties with a blonde pixie cut and a pretty face that was free of make-up, except for what looked like long, dark eyelash extensions and a slick of something shiny on her lips.
Georgie felt the weight of her stare as she approached her.
It was a relief to see that Hugo was behind the counter.
Her Aunt Cathy had mentioned that Dorinda was here today, and having that woman eavesdropping on this conversation and then spreading it around the village would be yet another nightmare.
Although, hopefully, the sound of ‘Do They Know It’s Christmas’ coming from the speakers would drown them out.
‘All right, Georgie? What can I get you, pet?’ Hugo greeted her, and her gaze flicked to the woman, nursing what she could see was an almost empty coffee mug.
‘Coffee please, Hugo,’ she said, as she pulled out a chair. ‘Can I get you another one?’
The woman nodded, so Georgie passed that on.
‘Make that two, please, Hugo.’
He’d just replied with a thumbs up, when, behind her, the café door opened again, and she felt her heart stop.
If it was anyone she knew, this was about to become extremely awkward, because this wasn’t the type of village that you could get away with not introducing someone to a friend.
‘ Well hello, Mrs Dawson – yes, terrible weather. This is a complete stranger, who is currently shagging my ex-husband. Yes, the one who buggered off to Thailand and then came back with his tail between his legs .’
Thankfully, the arrivals were just Alyssa and Ginny, who flew in the door, gave her a quick, ‘Hey, Georgie!’ and then disappeared into the back kitchen.
Okay, back to her coffee companion.
Georgie wasn’t sure how these conversations were supposed to go, but she was a hairdresser with two decades of experience in breaking the ice and drawing out conversations from strangers, so she spoke first.
‘I’m sorry for taking so long. Thanks for waiting. I guess you know my name, but I didn’t catch yours.’ Actually, it hadn’t been offered, but Georgie was glossing over that.
‘I’m Monica. Monica Turner. I work with Flynn at Alba Central Solar.’
That removed any doubt that they were talking about the same man.
‘And we’ve been seeing each other for a year now.’
Wow. Just wow. He’d kept that one to himself. Georgie already had so many questions, but now that Monica was speaking, she didn’t want to interrupt her.
‘We were supposed to be moving in together before Christmas, but lately he’s been dragging his heels, acting weird, and I didn’t know why. I guess now I do.’
There was no malice in her tone, just defeat and sinking realisation. This poor woman. Georgie respected the courage it must have taken to come here.
‘What do you need to know, Monica?’ she prompted, gently.
‘Everything. I sussed out that you’re his ex-wife and he slept at your house last night – and I’m guessing that wasn’t the first time – so I suppose I want to know what’s going on.’
Hugo must have sensed the tension, because at that, he delivered the coffee and made a swift retreat.
Georgie took a deep breath, then began at the start, with a bullet-point recap of her marriage to Flynn, their separation, divorce, and then got to the more relevant stuff.
‘And you’re right – for the last few months he’s being staying over sometimes. In my defence, I had no idea he was seeing you. He told me he wasn’t interested in dating anyone else, and if I’d known that wasn’t true, then it wouldn’t have happened. ’
The irony in this didn’t escape her. Wasn’t it supposed to be the wife that was getting cheated on with a girlfriend, not the girlfriend getting cheated on with the wife?
A point of curiosity niggled her, though.
‘Can I ask you something? How did you discover where he stayed last night?’ A vision of Monica following him, then sitting outside her house in the cold made her wince.
‘I put an AirTag in his car. I realise that makes me sound crazy.’
Georgie put her hands up. ‘I’m not judging. Clearly, I’ve done a crazy thing or two when it comes to Flynn too.’
Monica pre-empted her next question. ‘And then I heard him on the phone this morning, saying he’d left his wallet. He’d told me he lived in Weirbridge when he was married, so I put two and two together and googled you. That’s how I found the salon.’
‘If you ever leave the solar panels game, you’d have a great future as a private investigator.’
Monica reacted with a rueful smile. ‘Going by the reason I’m here, I’m probably way too gullible.’
Georgie wasn’t an advocate of violence under any circumstances, but right now, she wanted to punch her ex-husband right in the face.
‘Monica, I’m sorry. All I can promise is that now that I know about you, I won’t be seeing him again. At least, not in that way. We share a daughter, but from now on, that’s it. What you do with that news is up to you, but if you want my opinion, you seem really nice. He doesn’t deserve you.’
Monica took that in, then reached for her bag, which was sitting on the chair next to her. ‘Thank you. And, Georgie, please don’t tell him about this. I don’t want him to know I was here.’
‘I won’t. Good luck with…’ She wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence, so she went with, ‘…Whatever you decide. ’
Hopefully that decision would involve Flynn Dern being poked by a large bargepole.
When she was gone, Georgie took a sip of her coffee, as she stared straight ahead, trying to process the conversation.
Flynn Tosser. Dern. What a cheek that man had.
And while they were very definitely divorced, and he was perfectly entitled to do what he wanted, to shag his way around Scotland if he cared to, he couldn’t do it while trying to win her back.
Nor could he feed her bullshit lines, like the crap he’d come out with this morning when he’d lied to her about being the only one for him.
Urgh. Every thought she’d had just a couple of hours before about reuniting and playing happy families again was torched by a flame thrower of fury that made her teeth clench.
What. An. Absolute. Tosser. How dare he play that poor woman?
How dare he play her? How dare he mess with Kayleigh’s world?
As if telepathy sent a bat signal from her thoughts, her phone burst into life and Kayleigh’s picture flashed up on the screen.
Georgie settled herself, then answered with a breezy, ‘Hey lovely, how’s your day going? Has Uncle Grant arrived yet?’
‘Yes, but he’s up in your wardrobe searching for a nude heel. Don’t ask.’
Despite the circumstances of her current shit show, that made Georgie smile, until Kayleigh wiped the grin right off her face.
‘Dad is here too, though. He’s asking when you’ll be home. And, Mum, you know how Gran invited him to the party…?’
Georgie had to work hard to keep her voice steady. ‘Yes, but he can’t make it, sweetheart. He already told me that he’s got a work thing tonight.’ A work thing. Or, to be more specific, shagging a work colleague.
‘Nope, apparently his plans have changed and he’s going to come. He’s got his best jeans on, so he’s ready to party. It’s, like, so embarrassing but kind of cute. ’
Georgie was finding out that it was actually possible to speak while your face was on fire and your teeth were still clenched.
But she wasn’t going to be the one to let their daughter know what a lying arse he was.
‘Smashing. You can tell Dad I’m on my way and I’ll see him and his party jeans when I get there. ’
She hung up, paid Hugo for the coffees and picked three large slices of Victoria sponge to go. One for her. One for Kayleigh. One for Grant.
Her former husband was about to get what he deserved. And it wasn’t cake.