Prologue #2
I bristle and squeeze my phone as if it’s her neck.
Breathing as deeply as I can, which isn’t very with my tight chest, I lift my chin and look her right in the eye.
‘Actually, she’s doing really well, Gena.
Got a fab job in London. She’s just arrived and is settling in. ’ I wave the phone and grit my teeth.
‘Oooh, too good for us!’ Gena is pulled away by her giggling friend. Her laugh grates on me all over again. ‘You off to the pub?’ she asks.
Angelica nods curtly. ‘Seems as good a plan for the afternoon as any,’ she says, clutching my arm tightly as if I’m going to do a runner.
‘You coming, Gena?’ her friend asks, orange in clinging vest and flashing fairy earrings.
‘No, I’ve got other business to see to.’ She gives the three of us a little wave as she teeters out of the car park on to the main road and heads in the opposite direction.
My hands are shaking even more and I don’t know if it’s the shock of the fire or Gena’s catty comments. I’m sure Demi will be fine. She’s a smart girl, I tell myself, trying to loosen the grip of the doubts wrapping themselves around my heart.
‘It doesn’t look as if the factory’s going to reopen any time soon.
Rhys heard the firemen talking . . . it could be a couple of months.
’ Angelica puts a bottle of white wine and three glasses on the ring-stained round table in front of us; a selection of crisps, nuts and pork scratchings tumble from under her arm.
‘And we’re on zero-hour contracts. I guess that means they won’t be paying us then,’ Gracie grumbles, ripping open a bag of pork scratchings.
Realisation suddenly hits me like I’ve been whacked with a sack of spuds.
I’m skint! I have no idea how I’m going to survive if the factory is shut.
No work, no money. I gave Demi the last of my savings from the jar on the dresser that I’d put aside for a weekend in Tenby.
The only thing I’ve got of any value is my car, and that’s only worth a few hundred quid.
‘We’re never going to find anywhere else to take us on at such short notice.’ Gracie confirms exactly what I’m thinking.
‘We should go on holiday.’ Angelica beams, unscrewing the bottle and filling the glasses.
‘Some hope. I haven’t even got my share of a bottle of wine!’ I accept a glass from her with thanks and take a slug of the sharp, warm wine.
Angelica sits down and leans forward excitedly. ‘We could always go WWOOFing!’
‘I beg your pardon!’ Gracie chokes on a pork scratching and has another coughing fit.
‘WWOOFing!’ Angelica repeats with a wicked smile. ‘I’ve heard about that. It happens on the common . . . in cars . . . exhibitionists!’ Gracie takes a sip of her drink to recover.
‘Not dogging, Gracie!’ Angelica hoots, and even my low mood lifts. ‘WWOOFing! Worldwide . . . um, working on organic farms, or something like that. You volunteer to work on a farm in return for bed and board. You can do it practically anywhere.’
‘What, like in the Bahamas?’ Gracie frowns and then looks like she’s imagining herself there.
‘So that’s you sorted out, Gracie. Where would you go, Nell?’ Angelica is enjoying the game, and why not? We can all dream. ‘You can have a moment to think.’
But I don’t need one. My hand instantly goes to my throat, remembering the weight of the necklace that used to sit there. There’s one place that’s still close to my heart. Somewhere I didn’t think I’d ever get to see again.
‘Crete. I’d go back to Crete.’ I suddenly feel like I’m falling into one of the big fluffy clouds that used to drift across the skies there.
‘Not that I haven’t loved being here and being Demi’s mum,’ I say quickly, blushing.
‘But in Crete . . . well, I think that’s where I finally became me.
Grew up. Knew what I wanted in life.’ I remember the feeling of confidence I found there.
I had everything to look forward to. The plans we made to run a small boutique hotel there on the mountainside, my future laid out like a map in front of me.
‘Why don’t you go then?’ Angelica says.
‘I couldn’t do that!’ I laugh off her ridiculous suggestion and try and shake the sadness that comes with remembering, taking another sip of the disgusting wine to bring me to my senses. This is real life, in the Frog and Bucket, drinking acidic white wine.
‘Well, what are you going to do then?’ She sits back, glass in one hand, a handful of peanuts in the other and she tosses one up and into her mouth.
‘You could spend some time with that man of yours.’ Gracie raises her eyebrows. ‘Snap him up before someone else does. He’s been waiting for Demi to finally be off your hands. Now’s your chance.’
Maybe she’s right. How else am I going to fill my time waiting for the factory to reopen?
And Mike moving in, paying half the bills, would really help me out.
Perhaps this is fate. It’s time the two of us finally put our relationship on a firmer footing, rather than just darts night on a Thursday and a takeaway curry on a Saturday.
It would certainly take my mind off Demi being away.
‘You’re right, Gracie.’ I slap my glass back on the table and push all thoughts of Crete out of my head. ‘That is what I should be doing.’
I reach into my handbag, feeling fired up, and grapple for my keys, trying to ignore the monkey key ring that Demi bought me on a school trip to Bristol Zoo. Seeing it makes my heart twist again. Demi is fine, I remind myself. Her text said so.
‘I’ll surprise him. Turn up early!’ I attempt a surreptitious sniff at my clothes to see if I smell of smoke.
Then, leaving Gracie and Angelica with the rest of the wine, I head out to the car park and my battered Ford Ka.
The sun has gone and it’s beginning to drizzle.
I try to ignore the memory of the Cretan blue sky that’s now started taunting me.
This is exactly what I should do right now: finally make an honest man of Mike and ask him to move in.
Even Demi told me it was time I put him out of his misery and got on with my own life now that she doesn’t need me around.
I throw my car keys up in the air and catch them, walking purposefully towards my car.
I can’t wait to see the look on his face . . .
I pull up outside Mike’s flat and get my spare key from my bag.
I slide it into the lock, feeling surprisingly excited, push the door open quietly and step over the threshold.
Then I freeze, hearing that familiar irritating laugh .
. . coming from the bedroom. I thought I’d surprise him, but it looks like someone has beaten me to it.
I step back out and pull the door to as gently as I can.
Suddenly the laughter stops and I hold my breath.
‘Mike? Did you hear something?’ I hear.
‘No, now get back to bed!’ And then that laugh again, running through me like the sound of a dentist’s drill.
I let out the breath I’ve been holding with a long, slow blow. Then, with shaking hands, I slip the key through the letter box and listen to it fall on to the mat before lifting my chin and walking away with as much dignity as I can muster, that laugh still ringing in my ears.
It’s over . . . Just like that, it’s over.