Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
I hardly slept between excitement and fear of the alarm not going off. I stayed at Clara’s as it was easier to go from there than from my house. She made salmon and salad for dinner and we washed it down with a couple of glasses of white wine.
It was better than any therapy. She continuously asked me if I was sure of what I was doing. I wasn’t.
If I had to hear about the seven year itch one more time, I would crack up. If it was an itch, there was only one person who could scratch it, and no prizes for guessing who that would be.
In some ways though, it was comparable to an itch; I couldn’t escape it, and there was absolutely no relief from it.
There was no need for the alarm, I was up long before the crack of dawn. I dressed in dark blue jeans, a white vest and a navy blazer.
As I passed through airport security, a flicker of madness threatened to overwhelm me.
What if all of this was in my head?
What if I’d built him up to be something he wasn’t?
What if he was an axe murderer?
No. I was acting purely on gut instinct, and my gut urged me to go with this.
I boarded the Flybe propeller plane and put my headphones in, unable to face anyone talking to me. The butterflies in my tummy were very real. In an hour I would see John.
I closed my eyes, concentrated on regulating my breathing and tried to relax.
Things had been awful at home the past couple of weeks, all my own doing of course. Instead of ignoring the big wedge between myself and Rob, I’d since welcomed it, encouraged it even. Instead of trying to coax conversation out of him, I avoided him.
I felt cruel. It wasn’t in my nature; I didn’t want to be that person.
He must have noticed the subtle changes, and I hated doing it, but I thought if I increased the already vast distance between us, when I did leave, he wouldn’t feel it as a loss as such.
I wasn’t sure if that even made sense, but it was the only thing I could do that wasn’t drastic.
As soon as the wedding was over, I vowed to talk to him properly. But I didn’t want to spoil my brother's big day with any awkwardness. The wedding felt like a lifetime away, I just wanted to get it over with rather than spend every day dreading it, knowing how awkward and awful it would be.
I’d tried to rehearse in my head what I’d say to Rob, but I just couldn’t think of any way of putting it that would make it easier. The fact of the matter was that I wanted a divorce. And the sooner the better. In my mind we were already separated.
A part of me wondered whether he might secretly want a divorce too, now he had his passport, hence the complete and utter lack of effort for the last few years.
Or maybe this was what a normal relationship was to him. I honestly didn’t know.
The plane descended to a bumpy halt in Dublin, right on schedule.
The sun shone hazily through the clouds; the temperature distinctly lower than it had been in Southampton.
I ran my fingers through my long dark hair and sent up a silent thanks to whoever was up there looking down on us that it wasn’t raining.
We disembarked the plane and I merged into the swarm of passengers exiting through passport control. Hard to believe I was actually in Ireland. Last time I’d been here with the girls, we’d taken in the usual tourist sites; Stephens Green, The Guinness Factory and The Open-Top Bus Tour.
I strode towards the exit signs with an air of confidence that I truthfully didn’t feel inside. I crossed the automatic double doors and every nerve in my body jolted to life. I felt his presence before I saw the face that haunted my every thought.
I drank in every detail. A football shirt sculpted his broad shoulders, dark jeans hugged his waist. He was as handsome as I remembered. Not in an obvious, in your face kind of way, but in a subtle understated way.
He had class, an air of quiet confidence, and he radiated an almost intimidating assertiveness. Like he knew exactly what he wanted, and was willing to work exceptionally hard to get it.
Those huge oceanic eyes snapped to mine. The draw was instantaneous once again, a physical pull I couldn’t deny. ‘Welcome to Ireland,’ he stepped forward, and brushed a tingle inducing kiss over my cheek.
‘Thanks.’ Nerves crept in as I drew in a lungful of Irish air.
John took my hand reassuringly and led me out to the carpark and over to a gleaming black A5.
‘I had no idea you were an Audi Wanker.’ I teased.
‘I’ve been called many things before in my life,’ he sniggered. ‘But never before have I been called an Audi Wanker.’
‘Seriously! It’s a real thing!’ I assured him. ‘Google it and you’ll see everyone complaining about Audi drivers, although maybe it’s just a British thing.’
‘After the week you’ve had, you’re in no position to be judging other drivers, regardless of their choice of car.’
It broke the ice. We were still laughing as we pulled out of the airport.
Within minutes, he had me at ease and conversation flowed naturally.
John was everything I thought he was and more; funny, witty and sharp. And gorgeous, did I mention that he was absolutely gorgeous?
I kept stealing tiny glances in his direction, trying not to get caught, but it appeared he had the same idea. The draw between us was magnetic.
John expertly parallel parked his wheels into a tight space outside a tiny café in a little village in the outskirts of Dublin.
I specified I did not want to go anywhere near the city centre for fear of meeting someone I knew.
It would only take bumping into a patient on a weekend away or a friend of a friend away on a hen or something similar.
Not a situation I needed to be in. My nerves were shredded enough as it was.
Plus, I wanted to be somewhere quiet with him so I could enjoy him all to myself for the few short hours that we had. I wanted to savour every detail.
He was a drug.
And I was addicted to those pesky chemicals.
We found a booth and the owner of the café arrived to serve us herself, making polite conversation about the weather. It dawned on me that I still had my wedding ring on and she probably assumed John was my husband. It was a lovely thought.
I ordered tea and a scone and he ordered the full breakfast. I couldn’t eat a lot even if I wanted to, my stomach was fragile, torn between excitement and the guilt of what I was doing.
‘What would you like to do, Lucy? Is there anything you want to see while you’re here?’ I couldn’t help but notice his deliberate innuendo, a glint of suppressed laughter in his turquoise irises.
‘I just want you to myself for the day. I put my trust in your capable hands.’
‘These hands are certainly capable.’ He winked.
‘Very funny, smart arse.’ I laughed. ‘What have you got planned for me?’
‘If we leave Dublin before one o’clock, I could have you back in the wild west by four, which would leave a full hour alone with you at my house before the girls need milking.’
He joked about stealing me away but the truth was I would throw caution to the wind and go willingly, in other circumstances.
‘The girls?’ I nearly spluttered a mouthful of tea through my teeth.
‘Sure, you know how it is. You didn’t think you were the only female in my life?’
Laughter lurched from my throat and a smile lifted my lips at the thought of him working the land, tending to the animals.
Our lives were a million miles apart.
He paid the bill, left a generous tip and ushered me back to the car, eying my choice of footwear.
‘They cannot be comfortable,’ he stated, looking at my favourite cream five-inch stilettos.
‘No pain, no gain.’ My mother’s motto had stuck with me.
‘Can you walk in them?’ he asked seriously.
‘Absolutely. Walk, run, dance, shop, you name it.’
‘Great. I’ll take you somewhere you’ll love.’ His voice oozed confidence.
We drove through the quiet country lanes, barely meeting another car. He dropped his left hand onto my lap, which sent tremors from my neck to my toes. I memorised every detail so I could replay it in the early hours of the morning when sleep eluded me.
We arrived at a gorgeous viewing point, a waterfall descending into a deep grey rock pool below.
John opened the car door for me. ‘I’ve another pair of runners in the boot if you want to try them?’
‘I wasn’t exaggerating when I said I could walk in these shoes.’ I’d had plenty of practice traipsing round bar after bar in them. I could last the entire day without breaking a sweat.
He took my hand again, and we strode purposefully towards the waterfall. We had it to ourselves for the moment. It was so peaceful, the only sound was the gentle cascading water into the pool below, the rhythmic trickling reassuringly therapeutic.
John found the stump of a huge old oak tree a few feet from the rocky ledge. He sat, then pulled me down onto his knee smoothly, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind. The weight of my body descended onto his lap.
As we watched the water gravitating downwards, I felt my internal gravitational shift. I was acutely aware of the proximity of his body, enjoying the physical warmth of his every inch. He smelt of sandalwood soap and freshly cut grass. My body hummed with hot, fierce desire.
I inched my face to his, wanting to make the most of every second that I could physically lay my eyes on him, and imprint every detail in my mind.
He met my gaze with a deep burning one of his own.
This time it was me leaning in towards him, desperate to taste him, needing to feel his mouth on mine.
Our lips met, his warm wet tongue gently explored my mouth, and multicoloured vivacious fireworks exploded inside me. It was the most sensual kiss of my life, made so much sweeter because I’d longed for it a million times over.