Chapter Two
I had less than two hours sleep. My mouth was like the bottom of a birdcage and my head pounded. Nausea hovered in my gut. It wasn’t the alcohol. Raw, acidic guilt stripped the lining of my stomach.
I had sailed dangerously close to the wind, and the worse thing about it was, it had felt so right.
I’d felt at one with John right away. I knew in my heart if I crossed the line physically, I’d go home to my husband and confess.
And it would be really ugly. One thing I did not do well with was guilt and secrets.
No one could punish me more than I would punish myself.
Entwined with the guilt was a shattering sadness. For the first time in my life, I had glimpsed a different path. I met a younger, carefree version of myself. A version that didn’t have to maintain a facade or uphold a life where everything was planned, clogging the emptiness inside.
I found something I didn’t realise I was missing; a part of me I didn’t know existed. I’d felt alive. I’d felt young. I’d finally seen the light, there was a world of opportunity out there that I had cut myself off from. I’d imprisoned myself in a box.
It had felt like security at the time, but in reality, it was an obstacle course of limitations constructed of fear and insecurity. An odd moment to accidentally stumble upon such clarity.
Heidi pulled back the curtains and the sun shone in brightly in the window. I squinted looking up at her and she handed me one of her stolen supplies of Costa Coffee orange juices. She wasn’t all bad, I suppose.
‘You look like you need this more than me.’ Her crisp tone heavily articulated each syllable.
‘Thank you.’ I gratefully accepted and drank quietly, trying to gather my thoughts.
John was still in the same building as me. I wondered if he was awake. I pictured him entangled in his crisp-white sheets, only wishing things could have been different. That I could have woken up in his arms.
Even in the light of day, the need for him was strong, unreasonable but undeniable.
They were also staying for two nights, the same as us.
There was a chance I might run into him again.
Oh, how desperately I wanted to. I couldn’t decide if it was one of my best ideas, or one of my worst. My brain was foggy from the gin and sleep deprivation, yet I couldn’t sleep another wink now if I tried. ‘Good night?’ Heidi asked.
‘Too good,’ I replied genuinely.
‘And there was me thinking it was my hen, yet you’re the one sneaking in in the early hours of the morning.’
Bollocks. I thought I’d gotten away with it. ‘One of us had to have some fun.’ I tried to sound breezy about it.
‘What time are we going to the West Coast Park?’ she asked.
Shit. I’d forgotten about that. The West Coast Park was a fifty-minute drive from Bristol and involved us women donning sumo wrestler suits and fighting with giant foam poles.
I mean seriously, whatever happened to a nice relaxing spa day?
Or a bubbly afternoon tea? Or even just a bit of shopping and a few glasses of wine?
Still, it was what she wanted, and it was her hen. I scrambled out of bed.
‘Ah, I think we need to be there at ten.’
‘Where do you think you’re going, Lucy?’ Heidi said as I searched the sideboard looking for my car keys. I was still drunk, there was no point denying it.
‘Looking for these?’ She waved the keys in front of me. ‘If you think I’m getting into a car with you like that, you can think again. I’d actually like to make my wedding day. I’ll drive.’ Her tone was stern, even by her standards.
Thank God. Bad enough having to go, let alone drive as well. And she had a point, I would have been way over the legal limit to drive. I headed into the shower and tried to brace myself for the day ahead, wondering how to go about ‘accidentally’ bumping into Mr-So-Wrong-He’s-Right.
We met the girls in the hotel lobby an hour later, kitted out in wellies, shorts and vests all ready for the mud fest that was ahead of us. I was never as happy to see Clara as I was that morning. My thoughts were consumed with John, it was all I could do not to shout his name from the rooftops.
‘Hello, Mrs, how are you this morning?’ Clara said.
‘I’ve often felt better.’ It was the truth.
‘You were up late with that ginger guy last night.’ She gave me a playful nudge in the ribs.
‘We were only talking. He’s married.’ I repeated his cover story, crossing my fingers behind my back as if it made any difference.
As we stalked out into the sunshine, I scanned the lobby twice. There was no sign of him. He was probably still in bed. That was the right place to be. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to force the image from my mind.
Heidi drove my car to the venue, concentrating on the road while Clara and Ruth dissected the events of the night before. I was there in body but my mind was elsewhere.
In the light of day, I couldn’t understand how I felt so drawn to a man I’d just met. It was overwhelming and irrational. Which only fuelled my curiosity.
We arrived at the games in good time and were promptly issued animal fancy dress outfits to put on. I thought things were bad before I had to wear a sheep costume. Now it was fucking ridiculous.
Once the photos were taken, I discarded the costume and lay in the field with the sun shining down on my face. Then, I closed my eyes and allowed myself to think solidly, without interruption.
The girls duelled in their costumes, laughing, fighting and falling over each other. My good self and the devil on my shoulder were also duelling; the devil egging me on to find out more while I had the chance.
I tuned everyone out, replaying our conversations over and over again, remembering how close he got to kissing me, imagining what it might have felt like, trying not to smile at his humour, and not to cry at the complete unfairness of the situation.
Longing dragged at the pit of my stomach, and as unwise as it probably was, I knew I had to see him again.
After what seemed like an eternity, we headed back to the car and returned to the hotel. At least at the hotel there was a minute chance of seeing him. We had no hope dressed up as farm animals in a field fifty miles away. Probably a saving grace.
I agreed to meet Clara and Ruth in the lobby twenty minutes later to get some shopping in while we had a free couple of hours. Retail therapy was the best therapy, so we hit Cabot Circus.
If I’d hoped to take my mind from John, it didn’t work. I wondered would he prefer a scarlet or a nude lipstick. I bought both, but decided to wear the scarlet that night.
Hung for a sheep as a lamb…
That evening, I was the first of the girls to reach the hotel bar. I couldn’t deny it to myself; I knew exactly why I was there first, who I was hoping to bump into.
There was no sign of him or of his friends. I checked my phone on the off chance he might have texted me, but it showed no new messages. When the girls appeared, I fell into mindless chatter before being pulled into a taxi.
The Comedy Club was good fun, the food was crap, as you’d expect, but the comedians were brilliant and the stage turned into a disco afterward. Clara wasn’t feeling well. She suffered with her tummy and mixing cocktails and wine last night hadn’t helped.
‘I might go back to the hotel.’ Her tone was apologetic.
‘I’ll come with you.’ I grabbed my bag.
‘Don’t be daft. Stay here and enjoy the night. No need for you to leave as well.’
I welcomed an excuse to leave, desperate to bump into John again. One thing was for sure, he wasn’t in The Comedy Club. But there was a chance he may end up in the residents' bar at the hotel, and I was going to make sure I was already there.
Disappointingly, I hadn’t heard from him all day.
I’d been so sure he’d felt what I’d felt.
I’d checked my phone a hundred times and there had been nothing.
I considered confiding in Clara, but I couldn’t find the words.
Even she didn’t know how bad things were at home.
Never before had I admitted out loud that anything was less than perfect.
She had a fair idea, everyone did. But the topic of my marriage was off limits, even to my mother.
‘Are you sure? I honestly don’t mind going back myself.’
I didn’t need any encouragement. Ruth came with us.
We sat in the hotel bar in the relative quiet, Clara sipping on a brandy that was apparently medicinal.
I was more than happy to sit with her, unwittingly turning my head each time the door opened.
I ordered a gin and tonic again and looked longingly at the two empty stools at the bar we’d been sitting on only a few short hours ago.
‘Anyone would think you were waiting for someone,’ Ruth said, digging me in the ribs with her elbow playfully.
‘Ha! As if! Just keeping my eye on the door in case Bridezilla decides to come in and pee on my bonfire! Do you know how many calories is in this drink?’ I joked to mask the truth, trying not to choke on my drink, willing the threatening blush to stay away.
They were my best friends, but I could barely process what had happened myself, let alone try to explain it to them.
I wouldn’t get away with it for long though, that was for sure.
My facial expressions gave me away every time.
It was impossible to be fake even if I tried.
That’s probably why none of them asked about my marriage, it would be uncomfortable for all of us, me lying and them pretending to believe it.
It was an unspoken rule in our friendship. No one ever asked how Rob was.
Only now did it occur to me how fucked up the whole situation was.
Two G & Ts later, I excused myself to go to the toilet and took my phone with me. It had bad idea written all over it, but I decided to call John.
It was now or never.