Say Hello and Wave Goodbye Read online

  So there he was, standing in front of me, blatantly looking me up and down appraisingly with that cocky grin on his face that made me want to simultaneously smash his face in and rip his clothes off.

  ‘Well.’ He’d leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. ‘Fancy seeing you here.’

  I was lost for words and stared at him dumbly whilst registering the look of surprise on Gav’s face.

  ‘I didn’t know you two knew each other.’ Gav looked from Jonathan to me with a quizzical look.

  ‘Oh, ancient history,’ I’d said, recovering my voice. ‘We knew each other a long, long, time ago. ’

  Jonathan had moved a bit closer to me and I felt sandwiched between him and Gav. I’d wanted to run but how could I? Jonathan had looked levelly at Gav and said, ‘Oh, yes, Me and Bex were very close, back in the day.’

  The way he said it made me feel uncomfortable because it seemed to imply that we were still close now and I couldn’t help but notice that Gav dropped his arm from around my waist and moved slightly away from me.

  I remembered then how Jonathan used to be; how he would dominate people with his above average height and the sheer presence of him, not forgetting that he’s Gav’s boss so he’s always going to have the upper hand with him.

  ‘So,’ he’d said with a smile, ‘What’s brought you back to Frogham? You’ve been gone, what, six years?’

  I know he deliberately got it wrong and I’d stopped myself from correcting him, I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of thinking I’d been counting the days.

  ‘Oh, I’ve been back for ages,’ I’d lied.

  Why I lied I have no idea, just that it seemed a good idea at the time, and I blame the gin. Obviously it wasn’t a good idea because if he chatted to Em and my name came up he’d soon find out the truth.

  ‘Really? So what are you up to these days? Married? Significant other?’ He’d said it with a smirk and a snigger and that’s my only defence; I’d had a few and I just wanted to show him because he obviously thought there was no chance of me being with anyone else because I’m a complete loser.

  ‘No, not married,’ I’d shaken my head, ‘But I am living with someone.’

  Which wasn’t actually a lie, when you think about it. And it was worth it, just to wipe the smirk off of his face.

  ‘Oh,’ he’d said in surprise, ‘All loved up then.’

  ‘Yep, I certainly am. I couldn’t be happier.’ I couldn’t help beaming at him and out of the corner of my eye I saw Gav melt away into the crowd. So Jonathan had ruined my chances with Gav too by forcing me to lie, although I think they were ruined the minute Jonathan turned up. It has to be the kiss of death career-wise if you date the boss’s ex-girlfriend.

  ‘Who’s the lucky man?’ Jonathan stared right at me and I wanted to squirm but I’d felt trapped under his gaze and I’d forced myself to stare back defiantly, daring him to doubt me.

  ‘His name’s Flynn.’ I’d faked a dreamy look in my eyes. ‘My true soul-mate.’

  ‘Flynn? Unusual name.’

  Too unusual, I realised too late. What if he knew him? He’d know I was making it up. I didn’t like the way Jonathan had looked at me; scrutinising me; he was the accomplished liar, not me.

  ‘So,’ I’d attempted to deflect the attention away from me, ‘What about you? All settled down, are you?’

  ‘No.’ He’d looked at me thoughtfully. ‘I’m still waiting for the right woman.’

  I’d looked at him then and thought; same old Jonathan, hedging his bets. He probably lives with the blonde I saw him with but he wouldn’t let that stop him chasing other women. No doubt the blonde has her own house and a good credit rating that Jonathan can trash; I know that even a hundred grand a year salary wouldn’t be anywhere near enough for him.

  He leant in closer. ‘What do you say we have dinner and catch up on the last six years?’

  And I’d looked at him and even though I was drunk and my head was already beginning to pound I kne w ; the minute that I’d told him I was living with someone I’d flipped that switch in his head that he couldn’t ignore.

  The switch that said he was better than everyone else and he could have anything or anyone that he wanted, all he had to do was take it.

  I’d set him a challenge.

  He had to prove he could get me back.

  ✽✽✽

  A couple of paracetamol and a shower and hair wash later and I feel almost human again. I have a burning need for some carbs to soak up last night’s alcohol and some hot, strong coffee. I’m determined not to let seeing Jonathan again ruin last night, or my new life.

  The sun is streaming through the conservatory window as I sit in the armchair to enjoy my toast; it has so much butter on it’s almost sliced on it and I can’t eat it quickly enough. Some more; I decide, more buttery toast is needed. I pad out to the kitchen and put two more slices into the toaster.

  It looks such a lovely day that I decide I’m not going to waste it by moping around indoors, I’m going to go for a walk into town and walk off the remnants of this hangover and have a look around the shops.

  The toast pops and I thickly butter it and return to my seat in the conservatory and enjoy the feel of the sun on my face. I can see Flynn pottering around at the end of the garden; he looks as if he’s having a sort out of his spades and tools and putting them in the shed. I give him a wave but he can’t have seen me because he doesn’t wave back.

  He was still up last night when I came in.

  No he wasn’t, the Beccabird chips in, You woke him up .

  Okay, I did wake him up. I forgot my key so I had to hammer on the door and ring the bell until he got out of bed and came downstairs and let me in. Sausage wondered what all the noise was about and came tearing out of the kitchen doing his funny little bark. Luckily for me, Flynn wasn’t staying at Steve’s otherwise I’d have had to spend the night on the doorstep. Although I did find my key this morning, it was in my handbag all the time but as I was wearing gin and tonic boxing gloves I just couldn’t seem to put my hand on it.

  I don’t really remember him saying a lot last night – he was probably pissed off with me for getting him up and I can’t blame him. His hair was sticking up all over the place where he’d been in bed and I made some joke about him looking like Ronald McDonald which seemed hilarious at the time due to all of the alcohol I’d imbibed but now seems not funny at all. And rude. He didn’t laugh either.

  I’ll apologise when he comes in.

  I finish my toast and put the plate on the floor and sit back in the chair and close my eyes, I could almost pretend it’s summer sitting here in the warmth, it’s bliss.

  When Jonathan had suggested dinner I didn’t say no because I knew that he would keep on until I gave in so I just said that it’d be great and to give me a call. He doesn’t have my mobile number so I should be safe, I was saved from having to give him my number because Em suddenly appeared at his elbow and started flopping all over him so I used the opportunity to make my escape. She was asking him about sales and fluttering her eyelashes and I found it a bit sad really, that she didn’t have anything else to say other than work stuff.

  Funny how she actually saved me, by accident of course. I think she fancies him even though it was work talk; it’s probably the only conversation she has. If she only knew the truth about him she’d run a mile.

  I excused myself by pretending that I was going to the loo – not that Em was interested and Gav had long gone and Jonathan just smirked. I went straight downstairs and out onto the street and walked down to the queue for taxis and got in line and waited, hoping that no one from work spotted me.

  I felt bad for deserting Trina so while I waited I texted her to say I’d gone home because I had a headache. I hope she’s not too annoyed with me because we were supposed to be getting a cab home together but I just couldn’t stay there any longer, not with Jonathan there.

  I’ll ring her in a while and apologise; maybe I should tell h
er the truth about why I really left.

  A shadow falls across the sun and I open my eyes to see Flynn coming in the back door. He looks serious and I realise I have some major grovelling to do for last night.

  ‘Hi, Flynn, How’s it going?’

  ‘Hi.’ He looks very serious. He wipes his boots on the mat and then bends over and unlaces his boots and pulls them off and chucks them outside the back door. He comes back in and closes the door and walks around me and into the kitchen. Sausage sits in front of me waiting for a cuddle and I bend down and stroke him while he hoovers up the crumbs from my plate. I quickly scoop the plate up out of his way remembering Flynn’s warning about human food for dogs – a few crumbs will be like a three-course meal to a dog the size of Sausage - and jump out of the chair and follow him into the kitchen and stand and watch as Flynn washes his hands.

  ‘Look, Flynn, about last night? I’m really sorry that I got you out of bed to let me in. ’

  He doesn’t answer and finishes washing his hands and takes the towel from the hook and dries his hands carefully.

  Oh God, have I really offended him? Have I ruined the very best place I’ve ever lived with my drunken behaviour last night? Is he going to ask me to leave?

  ‘I’m sorry about the joke too; it was really rude of me and not funny at all.’

  He looks up from the towel at me with a very strange look on his face.

  ‘And not true either. Of course your hair is nothing like Ronald McDonald’s.’ I think maybe I shouldn’t have said that because he might have forgotten what I said and now I’ve just reminded him.

  Keep digging! cackles the Beccabird.

  Flynn finishes drying his hands and carefully hangs the towel back on the hook.

  ‘It’s fine,’ he says flatly as he walks past me. It’s so obviously not fine.

  I open my mouth to apologise again and then close it without saying anything. I’ll only make it worse by blathering on.

  See? That’s what happens when you hit the gin.

  Told you so , says you-know-who.

  I’m about to sink into the familiar vast pit of self-loathing but I stop myself; no time for wallowing in self-pity, I have more apologising to do. I need to ring Trina. I press her number and it rings and rings and I’m just about to hang up when she answers. Her voice sounds croaky and sleepy and I launch straight into my speech about how sorry I am for ditching her last night. She reassures me that she got a lift home with some of the youngsters and she doesn’t seem annoyed with me at all. I breathe a huge sigh of relief; she’s still my friend .

  We chat for a while and I tell her my plan to walk into town for a bit of window shopping to chase away the hangover and to my surprise she says she’ll come too. I arrange to call for her on the way and we end the call.

  I’m about to put the phone back in my pocket when it chirrups and I look to see I have a new text message from an unknown number.

  Perhaps it’s Gav; I gave him my number last night before Jonathan turned up. Although he heard the conversation about me living with Flynn so realistically he’s not likely to ask me out now, is he? Or is he? I have a battle with myself; do I come clean and tell him that I’m not with anyone and I was lying to Jonathan or will that get hideously complicated because I don’t know how friendly he and Jonathan are?

  It’s a dilemma.

  Yeah, and it might not even be Gav , the Beccabird says helpfully.

  That’s very true, because thinking about it, we exchanged numbers so he wouldn’t come up as an unknown number.

  I open the message.

  Hi Bex,

  Great to see you last night. How about catching up one night this week? Relive old times? XX

  Arrogant pig, he hasn’t even put his name he’s so sure I’ll know who it is. How did he get my number? He must have got it from Gav. Or Em. I break out in a cold sweat at the thought of being caught out in all of the lies I’ve told him. What would Flynn think if he knew? He’d definitely throw me out; probably think I was some sort of psycho.

  No. Jonathan must have got my number from Gav, because wouldn’t it be a bit weird asking Em for it, especially as she fancies the pants off him?

  Aside from that, what am I going to do? I can’t risk going for dinner with him because who knows where it’ll end – because in spite of everything I’m still attracted to him. There, I’ve admitted it and this time I’m sober. But I know if I don’t go he’ll keep on and on and the longer I say no the more attractive I’ll become to him because Jonathan always wants what he can’t have.

  Why oh why didn’t I come straight home and not go to the club last night?

  Too late now.

  Chapter Ten

  T rina is looking at me in surprise. We’re sitting in her lounge tucking into bacon sandwiches and we haven’t left her house for our walk into town yet. When I arrived at the front door Trina answered it looking very unlike her usual glamorous self with a bag of frozen peas on her head and a make-up free face.

  I followed her into the lounge and she flumped onto the sofa and said she was dying so I told her I had my own special guaranteed hangover antidote – food, and lots of it.

  She heaved when I mentioned the F word but I assured her it would definitely work and to have faith. I found a pack of bacon in her fridge and put it on to fry while I hacked at a crusty loaf with a blunt bread knife. The resulting thickly buttered doorsteps with the bacon slapped between and a good dollop of brown sauce might not have looked very elegant but I knew they would do the trick. I also made a five-teabag pot of builder’s tea to wash them down with while she lay on the sofa groaning.

  She pushed it away when I took it in but after I persuaded her to take a bite she said it wasn’t too bad and she’s now on her second one and the colour is definitely returning to her face. I had to have one too to keep her company.

  Pig! shouts the Beccabird.

  Whatever. So. I decided to confide in Trina because frankly, Jonathan is doing my head in already and I need someone to tell me not to be so stupid as to even consider going out to dinner with him. Someone who isn’t the Beccabird, because obviously she doesn’t count as she’s even more annoying than I am.

  ‘You used to go out with Jonathan Sayers?’ The surprised look is still on Trina’s face.

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Jon Sayers, well I never.’ Trina pops the last of her bacon sandwich into her mouth and licks the brown sauce off her fingers thoughtfully.

  ‘Do you know him well?’ I ask.

  ‘No, not well, he’s only been at Atkinsons for about a year but he’s got a bit of a rep.’

  ‘What sort of reputation?’

  ‘The word is he’s a bit of a playboy, likes the highlife. He’s a bit flash and drives a Porsche and wants everyone to know he does. Oh, and apparently he lives in one of those posh apartments on the quayside at Frogley-by-Sea.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah, well, that’s the story that’s gone around, it’s probably embellished a bit because you know how people like to gossip. The rumour is that he comes from money, silver spoon and all that.’

  I ponder Trina’s description of Jonathan; she’s pretty much described the Jonathan I thought I knew...before I found out the truth about him.

  ‘How long did you go out together?’

  ‘It was a bit more than going out together, I lived with him until seven years ago. We were engaged to be married. Although we actually lived together for less than a year.’

  Yeah, until they repossessed your engagement ring, whispers the Beccabird.

  ‘What? No! And you never realised that he worked at Atkinsons. Must have been a hell of a shock when you saw him.’

  ‘It was. And not a nice one either. He’s the reason I left Frogham, I had to get away and make a new start.’

  ‘Do you want to talk about it? I don’t want to pry but you seem troubled.’

  I take a deep breath and look at Trina’s sympathetic face; I’ve only known her a sh
ort while but I instinctively know that she won’t go blabbing to all and sundry. Not that any of it is a secret anyway, although I’m sure Jonathan’s version of it will differ vastly from mine.

  ‘I do want to get it all off my chest, but first...’ I stand up and pick up our empty mugs. ‘I need more tea.’

  ✽✽✽

  Seven years ago I thought my life was all mapped out in front of me; I aimed to start my own business and marry the man of my dreams which I hoped would be followed by babies followed by living happily ever after. I had a job with good prospects then – an actual career as a Financial Advisor – and the future looked bright and promising.

  Jonathan and I had only been together for six months when we got engaged. Handsome, charming, and generous, he seemed perfect in every way and I couldn’t believe my luck that he’d chosen me when he could have had anyone he wanted. I think the warning signs were there early on but I didn’t want to see his faults because I was hopelessly in love with him and I didn’t want to see anything wrong with my perfect man .

  I had my own house back then; I’d bought it the year before I met him and Jonathan moved in when we got engaged. I’d been saving for years and had put down a hefty deposit – some of it given to me by Mum and Dad. I loved that house; it may have only been a bog-standard three bed semi-detached but it was mine. The company I worked for as a financial advisor were great but my aim was to work for myself and have my own clients, because I knew that’s where the real money was.

  I’d always been the cautious type and if you’d told me before I met Jonathan that we’d be engaged and living together within six months I would never have believed that I’d have made such a commitment so soon. It wasn’t most people’s idea of a whirlwind romance but for me it was and I surprised even myself; I asked him to move in with me.

  It seemed like the logical thing to do, Jonathan’s parents owned several properties around Frogham and he’d been living in one of their houses – a fabulous four bedroom detached house in a neighbouring hamlet which was far too big for one person - but Jonathan had to move out because he had a major falling out with his parents and he refused to continue living in one of their houses. He wouldn’t tell me what the argument was about, refused to talk about it and I never pressed him because if I mentioned it, he got really upset. He told me he had high principles but didn’t want to sully things further by talking about it.