Chapter 1 #2
Jules stood still for a minute, the phone still clutched in her hand.
The brief euphoria she’d felt at making such a positive decision was disappointingly short-lived.
Then she’d felt sick and shaky and angry.
She lifted her arm and hurled the phone through the air.
She was aiming for a cushion on the sofa, but it had bounced off and hit the metal edge of the hateful coffee table, which always scraped your shins if you misjudged the amount of space you needed to edge around it.
Jules winced as she heard the screen crack a split second before the phone landed face down on the floor.
When she tried to pick it up, little shards of glass dropped out onto the beige twist pile carpet and finally she burst into tears.
That was two weeks ago, and she hadn’t heard from Carrie since, not an apologetic text or a conciliatory email.
She could have initiated contact herself, of course, could have been the one to make amends, but why should she?
Did Carrie feel the gaping hole that was left, the grief?
Obviously not. If only Carrie had kept her thoughts to herself.
Then, when she had got to know Gavin better, she would have realised that she didn’t have anything to worry about.
Gavin was solid. And Jules needed to concentrate on him now.
Think about the future. A future with Gavin.
He was what mattered more than anything else.
Gavin stood up and pulled her into his arms.
‘I love you,’ she murmured into his chest, feeling the beating of his heart, the heart that was entwined with hers.
‘And I lo… Ouch!’ he said, wriggling from her grasp and hopping about on one foot.
‘What? What is it?’ she said.
He flumped back onto the sofa and examined his sole.
‘There’s still glass down here,’ he said, picking out a shard from the fleshy base of his big toe. Jules blinked. She loved everything about Gavin, but his toes really weren’t his best feature.
‘You haven’t cleared it up properly.’
‘Sorry, sorry, I thought I had. A piece must have got embedded in the carpet.’
‘More than one,’ he said, picking at his heel which really needed some cream on it. She must offer to massage his feet later. He liked that.
‘You really should have been more careful, Jules.’
Jules flinched and closed her eyes for a moment. Her lip was beginning to throb.
‘I tried. It really needs the vacuum cleaner on it, but, well… you know the issue with that.’
‘Why don’t you just order a new one and put it on the credit card?’
‘I’ve told you I don’t want to do that. Perhaps I’ll go and ask next door if I can borrow theirs. They’re not very friendly, but…’
‘We could get a new sofa while we’re about it,’ Gavin said. ‘It looks as if some wild animal has been shredding it for a nest.’
‘My aunt gave it to me. She had a rescue cat.’
‘And while we’re about it we really need to get rid of this carpet. I’ll sand the boards so they match the ones in the bedroom, and we can buy a nice rug.’
‘If we just took up the carpet we wouldn’t need a new vacuum cleaner so urgently,’ Jules said with a weak smile. She fell on to her hands and knees and began to pull apart the carpet pile with slightly shaky fingers.
‘I can’t see any more glass,’ she said, straightening up, ‘but perhaps we ought to get you some slippers anyway.’
She took the two miniscule shards of glass from his hand and moved through to the kitchen.
Opening the cupboard under the sink to drop them carefully into the bin, a cloud of damp rose to meet her.
There was definitely a leak somewhere. Gavin kept saying that he’d get his plumber to look at it but she couldn’t afford to shell out for anything extra until her next pay cheque came in, not if she and Gavin wanted to eat, and he did like his smoked salmon breakfasts at the weekend with those muffins which came from the corner deli and were delicious, but two cost more than a pack of four from the supermarket.
She liked to indulge him though, and he deserved it, especially at the moment when he was obviously under stress.
He more than made up for her treats with his own; the flowers, the bottle of Barolo which they’d consumed with dinner the previous night and the chocolates, seventy percent cocoa salted caramel deliciousness from a local chocolatier nestled in the most gorgeous gift box with Florentine style decoration and an extravagant cream satin ribbon tied in a bow.
She would keep that box for ever. One day she would fill it with their children’s tiny name tags and other precious mementoes of the life they were building together.
The cost of the muffins was nothing in comparison to what he gave her.
And then there were the promises; to take her to the Caribbean after Christmas and skiing at Easter and next summer they could tour the Loire valley, staying in some of the stunning chateaux which he’d been to before.
He was so appreciative of nice things. It wasn’t surprising that he found living in this poky, slightly shabby little place a bit challenging.
Funny, she’d never thought of it as shabby when Carrie was here.
They’d covered the sofa with a teal velour throw and Jules’s Gran had run up some pretty cushions in a retro fabric.
Carrie had draped fairy lights from the picture rail and in the evening she always lit a candle or two.
It had all felt cosy and relaxing, lived in and full of laughter.
When they had people around, no one had to worry about spilling anything and everyone said how homely it was.
They hadn’t needed expensive new things to give them happiness, but some people did.
Gavin was one of those people and there was absolutely nothing wrong with that, was there?
Back in the living room Gavin was still suspiciously inspecting both his feet and the carpet.
‘You’re right,’ she said, sitting down next to him. ‘We should roll up this carpet and get rid of it – and the sofa, too. I’ve hardly got anything on my credit card. We’ll go and choose something at the weekend.’
He leaned forwards and ran a finger around her lips. She shivered with pleasure at his touch and pushed to the back of her mind how many extra shifts she would have to take on in order to pay for a new sofa.
‘Gavin,’ she said, gazing into his incredibly blue eyes, ‘you would tell me if there was anything really wrong, wouldn’t you?’
‘With us?’ he asked. ‘How could there be anything wrong with us? You’re perfect.’
She snuggled into him, resting her head on his shoulder.
‘And you’re perfect, too. We’re so lucky, aren’t we, to have found each other?’
‘The luckiest,’ he said, kissing her hair even though she hadn’t washed it for three days.
‘I want you to feel that you can tell me if there’s anything worrying you. I know that you think I have a stressful job and don’t want to bother me, but…’
He twisted and took her face in his hands.
‘There’s absolutely nothing to fret about, babe. We’re fine. Everything’s absolutely fine.’
‘But you’d tell me if it wasn’t?’
‘Of course I would. I tell you everything, you know that.’
Except he didn’t. At least, not yet. But she was sure he would, given time.
Besides, she liked a bit of mystery in a man.
It gave him gravitas. A lot of her previous boyfriends – could she really call them that when they’d barely been together for more than a few weeks?
– male acquaintances then, had been only too eager to offload about previous relationships, childhood traumas and workplace jealousies.
No, it was nice to have someone who protected her from all that.
He wanted to make her life better, and she loved him for that. If he got grumpy and impatient from time to time, who could blame him? Besides, he was right, she should have taken more care removing the bits of glass.