Chapter 38
In the morning, she and Don were polite to each other, but there was no big making-up scene. After an evening in the pub, he’d spent the night on the couch, waking up tired and slightly hangover.
He showered then made a coffee before heading upstairs to pack his bag as Bella made breakfast for herself and Markie.
The ring at the doorbell meant Don’s taxi was early. She could hear him cursing in the hallway, then he went out to say he wasn’t ready yet.
Five minutes later he appeared in the kitchen, wearing the long, oilskin overcoat she loved him in, even though it wasn’t the one she’d bought him, with his bag slung over his shoulder.
‘Time for me to say goodbye,’ he said rather stiffly.
He leaned over Markie in his highchair and gave him a kiss. ‘Take care, my little buddy.’
Then he came up to Bella and put his arms round her. ‘Look after him for me and take care of yourself.’
She kissed him on the cheek.
‘I’m sorry about last night,’ he added. ‘But I can’t take back what I said. You need to get your head together. I want to help you, but you need to tell me how I can help you.’
‘Right, I get the message,’ she replied, just as uneasy as him.
‘I don’t want to leave on a bad note,’ he added. ‘But it’s work. I have to go and I want to go. I’m sorry.’
‘I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. It’s just ten days, isn’t it?’
‘We’ve not got a definite return date yet, but it shouldn’t be more than that. Depends… rolling story, big story.’ He leaned down, kissed her quickly on the mouth, and said, ‘Take care, I’ll call you.’
Then he turned and left the kitchen.
‘Bye,’ she said and when she heard the front door slam, she wished she’d told him to take care too. Take care wasn’t ‘I love you’, they were both still too angry for that, but it was at least something.
An hour or so later, Bella’s phone rang. When she answered, she was surprised to hear Don’s voice.
There was a laptop problem, he explained. He had two work laptops – an older one, which he’d taken, because it wasn’t so precious – but one important file with contact details for the trip turned out to be on his new one. He needed her to go into that laptop and email over the file.
‘Of course,’ she told him. He gave her the password and she said she’d call back when she was in.
When she’d opened his laptop up and gained access, she rang Don back and he told her where to find the file. Once she’d opened his work email and sent it over to him, he said goodbye, telling her again to take care. This time she said it back.
‘I’m sorry,’ she added, ‘I’m going to get on my own case. I promise. See you soon.’
Once he’d hung up, she was left looking at his work emails. The very top one was titled:
Well, hello stranger!
It came from an:
S. Sewell
Bella knew that name. Simone Sewell – senior news reporter on the rival tabloid, but also the person Don had been seeing, on and off, for several years before he’d met Bella.
Bella clicked open the message, all it said was,
Looking forward to it.
But as she scrolled down, the story unfolded, as all Simone’s recent messages to and from Don were enclosed on this one chain.
Simone was back from LA, where she’d been posted just before Bella and Don’s wedding. She was now chief reporter on her paper, so she and Don were direct rivals. She was also going on the same press trip to Africa and would be meeting him at Heathrow… their first encounter in almost two years.
Apparently, you’re a family man now. I can’t believe it, Don!
Simone had written,
I may have to test out just how loyal you are to your little wife… packing my best underwear.
After reading these words, Bella quickly logged out of the email and shut down the computer. Her hands were shaking and she could hear blood pounding in her ears. None of this would be nearly so worrying if Don had at least mentioned Simone was back in London, and if he hadn’t left home in the middle of a decidedly rocky patch.
‘Hell,’ Bella said out loud.
Should she phone Don and ask him straight out what was going on? Should she bundle Markie up and follow him on the first flight out there? No, that was ridiculous.
No… she had to get a grip.
She had to do what she said she was going to do – she had to get on her own case. As she stood up from the laptop, she caught sight of herself in the mirror on the wall. For the first time in what felt like weeks, she saw herself properly – tartan shirt, baggy trackies, hair bundled up on her head, pale, unpampered, unadorned face. Well, right now, she was no rival for the glamorous Simone Sewell in her best underwear. And she didn’t want Chris to see her like this either. How could she pitch for work looking like a student on a deadline? For their get together on Sunday, she needed some clothes… and make up… and a haircut. When did she last get a haircut? Could you take a baby to the hairdressers? She, at least, needed to find out.
The new hair was fantastic, easily worth the eye-watering bill, and a full and contented Markie had slept through almost the entire thing. Bella’s mass of long, dark hair had been transformed into a sleek, shoulder-length bob, with face-framing layers, all shot through with ginger and caramel highlights. She’d gone home with some wonder conditioner that made the hair silky and smooth, so she no longer needed to push it up into a bundle because there was never time to blow dry.
A series of other shopping trips had followed, so by Sunday evening, her fridge was full of delicious food and expensive wine, a new slouchy but flattering dress was hanging ready on the wardrobe door, and the house was tidy and filled with luscious fresh flowers and candles.
She had tired Markie out with a lot of fresh air and long play session, then fed and bathed him before putting him to bed just a little bit early, so she would have time to get prepped for her guest.
‘It’s just Chris,’ she kept telling herself, not quite sure why she wanted everything to be perfect. I need to look like I’ve got it together, she told herself. But that didn’t explain the slight jitters, even butterflies that she was feeling.
After a quick shower, she put on the full works in terms of make-up. ‘Oh, hello you,’ she said to her dark-eyed, red-lipped reflection, ‘I remember you. Welcome back!’
In the bedroom, she picked out nice underwear: a lace bra and matching thong, for morale. On top went the emerald-green dress. It was stretchy cotton, flatteringly ruched over the stomach and hips, with one thick shoulder strap and one thin one. It was comfortable and casual. She wasn’t her pre-baby size yet, but in this dress, she looked curvy in the right places and pretty damn good.
She had just added the shoes from Tania, applied a squirt of perfume and checked herself in the mirror again when the doorbell rang. A shot of excitement hit her and she headed down the stairs.
When she opened the front door, there was Chris, smiling broadly and looking even more handsome than she remembered.
‘Hello!’ She leaned in close to kiss him on both cheeks. ‘Lovely to see you.’
‘Wow, Bella, you look stunning,’ he said with a big smile, closing the door behind him.
So did he, to be honest. She’d never seen him out of a suit before, but here he was in navy chinos with an open-necked shirt which showed his smooth olive skin. His hair was longer than usual with a hint of curl and he had a soft navy jumper tied over his shoulders.
‘Come in.’ She led him into the sitting room where he handed her a bunch of heavy pink roses and a bottle of cold champagne.
‘Thank you, you’re such a gentleman. Shall we?’ She waggled the bottle at him.
‘I think so.’ He raised his eyebrow, smiled and they held each other’s gaze for a long moment. He took the bottle back and she watched as he peeled off the foil and put deft thumbs to the cork.
‘Glasses?’ he asked.
‘Oh yeah.’
She went to get two champagne flutes from the kitchen, then curled herself into the sofa, watching as he carefully poured out their drinks.
They clinked glasses and sipped, then he sat down beside her.
‘I love your hair,’ he said, ‘very sharp.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Full disclosure – Susan knows I’m visiting you,’ he said, surprising her.
‘Oh really? What did she say?’
‘She wants a full report on what your plans are. She knows you’re not back at work yet. Well, she thinks she’d know about it if you were.’
‘And what are you going to tell her?’
‘Whatever you want me to, boss,’ Chris answered.
Bella took another sip from her glass.
‘So…’ he said leaning back, ‘what are you going to do next?’
‘The honest answer is… I’m figuring it out,’ she replied.
‘What do you want to do, Bella?’
‘Well, a shorter working week for a start,’ she said. ‘But I need to be very careful about that. It can’t kill off my prospects. So, it needs to be lucrative, and it has to have a real future, an exciting future. Working really long hours, batting from contract to contract, isn’t going to work for me any more.’
Chris let out something of a sigh. ‘That’s quite a long list,’ he said finally.
‘We’re the problem solvers,’ she began. ‘Every problem can be solved if you spend long enough trying to find the solution. I’m thinking very hard,’ she said, aware that she didn’t have much longer to solve this at all.
‘Well… I’m looking forward to hearing what you come up with,’ he said, then asked, ‘Meanwhile, what do you want me to tell Susan?’
‘That I’m sorry we fell out and I’ll be in touch with her soon, when I’ve got a clearer idea of what I’m going to do next,’ Bella replied, deciding it might be good to mend some bridges. ‘Will she be OK with that?’
‘Yeah, I’m sure she will.’
‘OK, now bring me up to speed. I want to hear all the office gossip.’
So, they talked animatedly on the sofa, Chris filling her in on all the latest work news, as they made their way through the champagne. When the bottle was empty, she suggested they go and eat.
‘What a fantastic kitchen,’ Chris said as he stepped into the lovely scene that Bella created there.
The table was laid with crystal glasses, candles and flowers. The lighting was low and the garden lights were on, making the room look bigger and more glamorous than it really was.
‘Thank you. Take a seat, open another bottle.’ Bella handed him the wine and served the first course.
They ate slowly, still talking about work and office gossip. The wine bottle was already two-thirds down and it occurred to Bella that she hadn’t drunk this much for over a year, but she felt fine. She felt good.
As Chris topped up her glass once again, she couldn’t help asking, ‘How come I don’t feel drunk yet? I’ve not been drinking at all… surely my tolerance must be low?’
‘Maybe you’re having too much fun,’ he answered, tilting his head so a thick lock of hair fell down over his forehead and she felt a sudden, much stronger, jolt of attraction to him.
‘Are you trying to get me drunk, Chris?’ she asked when the power of speech had returned.
‘No!’ he was smiling at her. ‘Although you’re very nice drunk.’
‘Oh, boy.’ She smiled back at him.
‘You always know you really like someone, because the weirdest things about them are totally fine,’ he said, leaning towards her conspiratorially.
‘Such as?’ She knew this was dangerous water, but she didn’t seem to be able to stop herself from wading on in.
‘Those patches on your dress,’ he said, glancing downwards.
She followed his glance to see two large damp circles where her breasts were leaking. Dear God… what was she thinking putting on a lacy bra without breast pads stuffed inside? But somehow, this only seemed funny, so instead of being embarrassed, she began to giggle. He began to laugh too and for a few moments, they were overcome with hilarity.
That was when she realised all the wine had gone to her head in a rush.
‘OK, your turn,’ he said when they had calmed down a little. ‘What’s the least appealing thing about me?’
She looked at him closely, trying not to giggle. She searched his face for some moments but couldn’t see anything to complain about.
‘You see,’ he said finally. ‘You do like me.’
‘Yeah,’ she answered, quickly adding, ‘But I am not supposed to.’
‘No… maybe we should have some food?’ he suggested.
‘Yup…’
For a moment or two, she tried to stand up, but realised she was too wobbly.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll go.’
She glanced over to the cooker.
‘Fish pie in the oven and salad… in that bowl,’ she pointed. ‘No more fizz for me.’ She tried to put her hand over her glass but knocked it over.
‘Oooops.’
‘OK… no harm down.’ Chris righted the glass once again.
The few mouthfuls of fish pie and salad that she managed to eat seemed to help a little. Chris also brought her a glass of water.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I should have realised you wouldn’t be up to full drinking strength yet.’
‘No, I’m sorry. Please, keep talking. Keep telling me the news. I’m going to be fine.’
They ate the dessert she’d made too and afterwards, she managed to get coffees set on the table without any mishaps.
Coffee… she thought, taking a steadying sip. Yes, coffee is what I need to get my head straight.
‘Milk?’ she asked standing up. ‘You take milk, don’t you?’
‘Cow’s milk…’ he said casting another glance at the damp dress patches.
And now they were both laughing all over again.
One moment she was looking at his laughing mouth and the next she had bent down to kiss him on those parted lips. She could feel him pull back from her, but her face followed his. She sank down, so she was sitting on his lap, still kissing, her hands now against his cheeks, pulling him to her. The thought in her mind, how strange and interesting a different mouth is when you’ve been kissing just one other person for so long.
She tasted him… she didn’t want this kiss to stop, because as soon as it did, all the other questions and decisions that had to be made would rush in. And right now, she just wanted to kiss and be kissed. Be held by someone who really wanted her, even if he wasn’t supposed to.
‘Bella?’
The kiss was over, Chris moved his face from hers. He was looking at her and about to ask questions she didn’t want to think about.
‘Please come here,’ she said. Holding one of his hands, she stood up, pulling him to his feet too.
With her other hand, she reached right up under her dress and with a tugging, hoicking motion, she pulled her thong down, stepped out of it in her high heels and threw it onto the table, vaguely aware that she’d narrowly missed a candle.
‘So bloody uncomfortable,’ she muttered.
‘Come here,’ she said again and pulled him up against her. Her arms were round his neck, the damp boobs were pressed against his chest and she moved in to kiss that mouth once again.
‘Bella…’ Chris had his arms around her back, but more in a steadying kind of way and he held his face back from hers. ‘Are you OK?’ he asked.
‘No,’ she heard herself reply, ‘no, not OK at all. It’s been really, really hard… all the things about babies, and new mums, and couples with new babies… they’re all true.’
‘Why don’t you sit down and let me get you some water.’
‘No— I think I might?—’
When Bella had been planning her glamorous ‘look-at-me-I’m-so-together with my baby and my gorgeous home’ reunion with Chris, she definitely had not imagined it would end with her throwing up copiously in the downstairs loo while Chris patted her back, held the new hair out of her face and told her it was going to be OK.
Afterwards, he made her drink water while he did as much clearing up as she would allow. Then when he was sure she was OK, he called a cab and headed for the door, making her promise she would go straight up to bed.
Once again, she told him, ‘I am so, so sorry… I don’t know what got into me.’
‘About seven glasses of champagne,’ was his reply to this.
He gave her a little parting kiss on the forehead.
‘It’s fine,’ he said.
‘Thank you for helping to mop up?—’
‘That’s what friends are for.’
‘Yeah… thank you for being my too-good-looking friend.’
‘Right back at you,’ he said, broad grin in place.
‘Something is different…’ she noticed, despite her fragile state, ‘about you… do you have…?’
‘A girlfriend? Yes, I do. She’s lovely.’
Bella groaned and leaned into Chris’s shoulder. ‘Oh my God. I have just made the biggest idiot of myself. Please never, ever tell anyone. OK? Not your lovely girlfriend, or Susan… jeez… or Don. OK? Total absolute promise?’
‘Promise. That’s my cab. Good night, Bella. Take care of yourself.’
‘Good night, run! Before I do anything else completely regrettable and awful.’
After a quick check that all the candles and lights were out, Bella ignored the remaining dishes and went upstairs. A quick peek at Markie reassured her that he was still asleep. A quick look at herself in the bathroom mirror was a horrible experience.
Eyeliner and mascara panda-like around her eyes, hair a rumpled mess, those huge stains on the front of her dress. Really, there were no words to describe how bad she felt about how this evening.
She gave her teeth a half-hearted brush, ran one of Markie’s wipes over her face and decided that would do. She had to get to bed, get some sleep before her baby woke her up at 6.30a.m. In the bedroom, she pulled out her comfiest pyjamas and got into bed, where she closed her eyes and tried not to think about how wretchedly hungover she was going to be in the morning.
Bella woke to the first light of the morning stealing in past the curtains with the distinct feeling that she’d heard something… but not her baby. Yes. There was a second sound – the distinctive bang and click of the front door closing.
Groggily trying to come round to full wakefulness, she opened her eyes and looked at the alarm: 5:41a.m. For a moment, she closed her eyes again, sure that she was just imagining things. But then came the thud of… her brain scrambled to define that sound… was it a bag being set down in the hall?
Wait… a bag?
Then came a distinctive dry cough.
She was fully awake now. She sat bolt upright in bed, her heart pounding. There was the rustle of a waxed coat being taken off and she heard the sitting room door creak open.
Don was home. Don was home. And she knew exactly what he would find in the sitting room – two empty champagne glasses, one empty bottle, half-burned down candles, an extravagant bunch of flowers, still wrapped in cellophane and ribbon. Now, she could hear him going to the kitchen, where he would find even more incriminating evidence from the marital crime scene – empty bottles and the remains of dinner for two.
She began to get out of bed, although there was no ignoring her reeling head. Her mouth dry, her forehead throbbing, she found her dressing gown and tied it on.
Footsteps on the stairs and now Don was throwing open the bedroom door and standing in front of her, thunderous expression on his face, and her black lace thong dangling from his hand.