Say Hello and Wave Goodbye Read online

  So Trina has had the same idea as me; tell the truth and be mortally embarrassed. Surely worth it to be rid of Jonathan.

  Are you sure you want rid? Are you?

  That bloody bird.

  ‘Okay,’ I say, resigned to my fate, ‘Hit me with it.’

  Trina looks down at her notepad. ‘Number one, you have to tell Flynn all about Jonathan.’

  ‘Flynn? Why do I need to tell him?’

  ‘It’s crucial for the plan to work. Is telling him going to be a problem?’

  I hesitate. ‘It’s just that I’ll feel stupid, you know, going over it all again and I can’t see what it’ll achieve. ’

  ‘Patience, O ye of little faith, all will be revealed.’ Trina waves her hand dismissively. ‘And there’s no need to go over all the details, it’s on a need to know basis. All Flynn needs to know is that an old boyfriend is pestering you and you need him to pretend to be your partner so he’ll go away.’

  I put my knife and fork down and think about it.

  ‘Well, what do you think?’ Trina asks impatiently.

  ‘I’m not sure, how exactly will this plan work?’

  ‘Easy.’ Trina leans forward and drops her voice to a whisper. ‘Make a date with him and when you turn up take Flynn with you, pretend you thought he was inviting both of you. He won’t be able to get away quick enough and I guarantee he will not ask you out again.’ Trina sits back and folds her arms with a self-satisfied look on her face.

  It could work; it’d be highly embarrassing and Jonathan would know that I definitely didn’t misunderstand him but with a bit of luck it’d have the desired effect.

  ‘Okay, there’s one problem though,’ I say. ‘Well, two actually, Flynn’s gay so I’m not sure how convincing we’d be as a couple.’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t realise. Is he very camp?’

  ‘Er, no, I didn’t even realise that he was gay when I first met him, he didn’t set my gaydar off at all.’

  ‘No problem then. What’s the second problem?’

  ‘I don’t think Flynn’s speaking to me.’

  ✽✽✽

  When I said Flynn wasn’t speaking to me that wasn’t strictly true; he is speaking to me but only when he absolutely has to. He’s been at home every night since Saturday – hasn’t stayed at Steve’s at all – and apart from ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’ we’ve had no conversation at all. I didn’t realise I’d upset him so much and I do feel really bad about waking him up and the Ronald McDonald thing but as the week’s gone on I’ve started to feel a bit annoyed about it. Get a sense of humour, for God’s sake.

  You’re not funny! chirps the Beccabird. And you’re annoying .

  I need to sort it out because Jonathan has texted me twice more about going out for dinner and he’s getting quite insistent. If I’m going to ask Flynn for his help we need to be back on good terms but not only for that reason – I don’t like the cool atmosphere between us, I thought we were friends - or at least becoming friends.

  The last thing I want is Jonathan turning up at my desk for the whole office to see because I keep putting him off; who knows what gossip that would start. It’s now Thursday evening and I don’t know how much longer I can delay having dinner with Jonathan. I could always make the date and then cry off at the last minute but I’ll only do that as a last resort because it’s just a delaying tactic; I just want it over with.

  Trina suggested asking someone else to pretend to be Flynn if I really didn’t feel I could ask him. But as the only other men I know are my Dad and Dave from the clamping department it’s a no go. Jonathan knows my dad and Dave thinks I’m a lesbian.

  So I have to ask Flynn and if he says no then I’ll just have to confess to Jonathan that I’m single and die of the humiliation and embarrassment. I really don’t want to go for dinner on my own with him so maybe I’ll just text him. I feel a bit better now that I have a plan B even if it does mean I’ll look like a complete saddo.

  My stomach rumbles and I wonder how much longer I’m going to delay having dinner; Flynn’s not home yet but I’ve made an extra big chilli con carne so I can offer him some if he does come home. It smells delicious though I say it myself and I’m keeping everything crossed that he comes home tonight, although he very well may not because he hasn’t stayed at Steve’s all week so he might go there tonight.

  I’ve also splashed out on a decent bottle of red, cheesy garlic bread and a Marks and Spencer sticky toffee pudding to put him in the forgiving mood; I know he loves his food. I’m aware that I’m going to look really mercenary because I’m trying to get back in his good books and ask a favour of him as well. If he doesn’t come home and stays at Steve’s, I’ll just have to eat everything to console myself.

  But not the wine! admonishes you-know-who. Look what happened the last time you had a drink.

  Very true. Why do I get myself into these situations?

  I look at my watch; 6.30. It doesn’t look as if he’s coming home. With a sigh I pick up my phone and scroll to Jonathan’s last message.

  Hey Bex, How about Saturday night? I know a great Italian out Frogley way? Xx

  I take a deep breath and am about to reply when the clang of the front door alerts me; Flynn’s home. Yes! I put my phone down and quickly lift the lid off the chilli pan and wave it around and open the oven door to let a blast of the garlic bread smell billow out so that Flynn will get a full nostril load as he comes in. I quickly step out into the hallway to make sure he doesn’t go straight upstairs.

  ‘Hi, Flynn.’ I put on my best and brightest smile and hope I don’t look too annoying. Sausage trots up to me and I bend down and pick him up to ruffle his ears.

  ‘Hi.’ He looks distracted but at least I get a smile. Sort of.

  ‘I just made a chilli and I’ve made way too much – do you want to join me for dinner? ’

  Flynn opens his mouth and I can tell by the look on his face that he’s going to refuse but then I see his nose twitch as the smell of chilli and garlic bread hits him.

  ‘Um, yeah. Why not. That’d be good, thanks. I’ll just get out of my work stuff.’ He strides past me and gallops up the stairs.

  Result! He doesn’t look overjoyed about it but at least he didn’t say no. I dash out into the conservatory with Sausage following behind me and quickly lay the table and put some wine glasses out. Sausage sits and watches me with interest and sniffs the air. I open the wine and put it in the middle of the table and then take the garlic bread out of the oven and shove the pudding in. By the time Flynn returns I have a big pot of chilli and a basket of garlic bread in the middle of the table. I’ve completely forgotten to do any rice but I’ve made enough chilli and garlic bread for four people so I think we can live without it.

  ‘Smells good,’ he says as he sits down.

  ‘One of my favourite meals,’ I say as I sit down opposite him. I belatedly wonder if he likes his chilli hot; I do, I just hope he’s not one of those who like bland food. I don’t think he is because when we shared a curry, he basically ate everything.

  We heap our plates with chilli and tuck in; I’m starving and by the looks of it so is Flynn because he’s wolfing down the chilli and cramming slices of garlic bread into his mouth. I do like a man with a good appetite; can’t stand picky eaters.

  You’re definitely not a picky eater, snorts the Beccabird.

  I pick up the wine and pour us both a generous glass without asking if he wants any; I need him to be chilled and mellow when I ask my weird favour of him. I feel the weight of Sausage’s body as he settles himself over my feet .

  ‘So,’ I say, taking a slurp of wine, ‘How’s your week been?’

  I don’t think he’s going to answer because he takes so long to reply and I’m just about to repeat myself when he finally speaks.

  ‘It’s not been the best of weeks.’ He puts his knife and fork down and stares at me.

  ‘Oh.’ This is it, this is where I get told he wants me to move out, me and my annoying, unfunn
y, big, fat, mouth.

  ‘I owe you an apology.’

  What? I wasn’t expecting that. I stare at him wondering what on earth he’s got to apologise for.

  ‘I’m sorry that I’ve been proper miserable and grumpy.’

  ‘No, no, you haven’t...’ I wave his apology away but he interrupts me.

  ‘I have, and I’m sorry. It’s no excuse but Steve and I aren’t together anymore and I’ve taken it out on you and I had no right to.

  I definitely wasn’t expecting that.

  ‘I’m really sorry to hear that,’ I manage to say.

  ‘It’s alright. It was my decision but even so it’s not nice hurting someone because you’re not ready to commit. Steve’s done nothing wrong but I suppose I’m just not ready to settle down.’

  ‘Oh.’ That seems to be all I can say.

  ‘I feel like a right shit.’ Flynn picks up his wine glass and takes several large gulps. ‘It’s not nice seeing someone you care about in tears.’

  He looks at me for a moment and then resumes eating. Do I ask him if he wants to talk about it or would that sound nosy? It’s a dilemma and after mulling it over for a few minutes I decide that I won’t ask; it’s not as if he needs to go into detail. I pick up my glass and take a glug; poor Steve, Flynn is such a lovely man, why can’t I ever meet anyone like that? Which reminds me of Jonathan and my weird request.

  I empty the rest of the bottle into Flynn’s glass and watch him as he chases the last of the chilli around his plate with a slice of garlic bread.

  He sits back in the chair and pats his stomach.

  ‘That was bloody amazing, just what I needed. Thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ I say as I stand up and pick up the empty plates, ‘Sticky toffee pud?’

  ‘You’re joking.’ He looks up at me with an unbelieving smile.

  ‘It’s in the oven, should be ready by now.’ I give him a questioning look.

  ‘Go on then, you’ve twisted my arm.’ He grins.

  I take the plates out into the kitchen and put them in the sink and run water over them. I feel full to bursting and wonder if I can possibly fit anything else in.

  I take the pudding out of the oven and place it on the top, it looks and smells so good. Maybe I’ll just have a tiny piece, a taster.

  ‘Cream or ice-cream?’ I shout through to Flynn.

  ‘Sounds great!’ He calls back.

  Both then. Definitely not a picky

  ✽✽✽

  The dishes are still in the sink and we’ve moved into the comfy seats in the lounge to let our dinner go down. I’ve eaten so much that the waistband on my jeans is cutting into me and I wonder if Flynn would notice if I undid the button. I sneakily pull my jumper down a bit whilst simultaneously undoing the button and easing down the zip. God, the relief.

  We’ve finished the bottle of red I bought but Flynn has produced another bottle from his stash under the stairs. He’s definitely in a better mood and I’ve not mentioned Steve again and nor has he. Least said, soonest mended, I’m thinking.

  He’s been telling me a funny story about a gardening job he’s doing for someone who basically watches his every movement and questions him constantly about what he’s doing. I’ve told him I don’t know how he puts up with it but he says everyone’s different and he’s every right because he is paying for it after all. I realise again what a nice man he is. I wonder fleetingly if he knows about the knickers; I wonder if the posh lady mentioned them. Surely not. I decide it’s better not to think about it.

  Eventually we get around to talking about my drunken arrival home on Friday and I wince as I remember the Ronald McDonald joke. How I wish I’d kept my big gob shut. Because I’m having such a lovely relaxing evening I’ve forgotten the reason for all this and talking about Friday night suddenly reminds me that it’s now or never. I just hope I don’t look like I’ve cooked him a nice meal just so I can ask him a favour.

  Yeah, well you have, the Beccabird reminds me.

  ‘The weirdest thing about Friday night was that I met my ex-partner there for the first time since we split up.’

  ‘Ex’s.’ Flynn nods thoughtfully. ‘Always awkward. How long ago did you split up?’

  ‘Seven years.’

  ‘Oh.’ Flynn looks surprised. ‘Long, long time ago, then.’

  I feel like an idiot now; it was years ago.

  ‘And this is the first time you’ve seen him in seven years?’

  ‘Yep. I moved away from Frogham as soon as we finished and this is the first time I’ve been back. ’

  ‘Ah, I see. I take it you didn’t part as friends?’

  ‘No, definitely not. The cheating bastard.’ Oops, didn’t mean for it to come out like that, too much wine me thinks.

  ‘Did the dirty on you, did he?’

  ‘He did.’ If only you knew.

  ‘I hope you told him to feck off when you saw him then.’ Flynn’s gone all Irish again.

  ‘I would have and I desperately wanted to but the thing is he’s sort of my boss, indirectly.’ I cross my fingers and think this will somehow negate the lie.

  ‘Hmm, even more awkward.’

  ‘But that’s not the worst of it.’ Here goes.

  Flynn looks at me quizzically and I plunge in, might as well get it over with.

  ‘He still thinks he’s God’s gift to women and seemed to think I’d fall at his feet if he clicked his fingers, even after all these years. He asked me out to dinner.’

  ‘What? I’d definitely have told him to feck off, boss or not.’ He lifts Sausage off his lap where he’s been happily snoozing and holds him up in the air. ‘Wouldn’t we, boy? Tell him to do one, eh?’ Sausage studies him thoughtfully and then attempts to lick Flynn’s nose.

  ‘I wanted to but I’ve haven’t been in my new job a month yet so I feel a bit vulnerable.’

  ‘Hmm, I get that. There’s no reason you have to go out for dinner with him though, he can’t exactly sack you for refusing.’

  ‘I know, I’m stupid, that’s what I should have done.’

  Flynn gives me a level look.

  ‘Of course I regret it now but I’d had a few drinks and you know, loose lips and all that.’ Okay, no need to remind him you were off your face and throwing unfunny jokes about the place.

  ‘Really, had a few drinks? I’d never have guessed. So come on, spit it out, are you going out with him?’

  ‘Well, I sort of told him I was living with someone. A man.’

  Flynn laughs. ‘Well you’re not lying – you live with me and I was a man last time I looked.’

  ‘True. But I sort of implied that we were together, as in girlfriend and boyfriend.’

  Flynn throws his head back and laughs raucously; I can’t help feeling a bit miffed. I know he’s gay but surely I’m not that much of a joke, am I?

  And don’t even answer that, Beccabird.

  ‘So that must have had the desired effect and got rid of him?’ Flynn asks when he finally stops laughing.

  ‘No. I don’t think he believed me. In fact, I’m sure he didn’t.’ I twirl the wine around in the glass and sneak a look at Flynn from under my eyelashes. ‘He invited me out for dinner and insisted that I bring you as well.’

  ‘What, you and me?’ Flynn looks at me in surprise.

  ‘Yes, you and me. And the thing is, he’s definitely going to know I’m lying now because I keep making excuses that we’re busy but he’s not stupid, he’s knows I haven’t got a partner really.’ I take a swig of my wine and stare at Flynn pleadingly. ‘I just wish I’d kept my big mouth shut because now I look like a lying saddo who can’t even get a man.’

  Flynn pours himself another glass of wine and I notice that the bottle is nearly empty. That’s two bottles we’ve drunk; so much for going alcohol free.

  ‘Well, why don’t I pretend to be your partner and come out for dinner with you?’ I think Flynn might be a bit drunk; his words are running together and I feel as if I’m taking advant
age of him.

  ‘Would you do that?’ I say whilst doing cartwheels in my head. Yes, yes, yes!

  ‘Sure, why not? Can’t see it’d do any harm. ’

  ‘Thank you!’

  ‘No problem, it’ll be a laugh.’

  ‘It will.’ It won’t.

  Flynn raises his glass and winks. ‘Here’s to us.’

  ‘To us!’ I say, as I stand up and dramatically wave my now empty wine glass in the air.

  And my unbuttoned jeans fall around my ankles.

  Chapter Twelve

  I struggled to get out bed this morning after drinking so much red wine last night and I probably reek of garlic. I think I might have put a bit too much in the chilli because it feels as if it’s seeping out of my pores.

  Urgh.

  But on the upside, Flynn has agreed to pretend to be my partner when we meet Jonathan for dinner.

  After pressing the snooze button on the alarm numerous times I’ve only just managed to get into the office at two minutes to nine, by the skin of my teeth. I quickly sit down at my desk and stuff my handbag into the drawer to make it look as though I’ve been here for ages. I quickly scan the office to find that no one is taking the slightest bit of notice of me; the youngsters are in a huddle around Skyla’s desk chatting animatedly and making absolutely no attempt to look as if they’re working so I don’t know why I’m so bothered. I seriously need to get a life.

  Hey! You have a life with an imaginary boyfriend and a yearning to get back with a lying, cheating ex, scoffs the Beccabird.

  I boot up my PC and stare at it unseeingly.

  I actually thought Flynn was going to have a heart attack where he laughed so much when my jeans fell down last night. And they fell right down; around my ankles down. Thank God I had a long jumper on so my knickers weren’t on show. I know he’s gay so he’s like a girlfriend but even so, there are limits.

  He was actually crying with laughter and when he finally managed to speak, he said that our evening had done him a power of good and really cheered him up. I suppose at least my humiliation was good for something. When I’d pulled my jeans up and buttoned them – and they were very tight so I definitely need to cut the portion sizes down – Flynn said that we needed to get our back story right for when we go out for dinner with Jonathan.