A Moral Dilemma: A Romantic Comedy Chick Lit Story (22 page)

C
hapter Fifteen

“Oh. My. God!” I bolted upright in my bed, Saturday morning, praying that the night before had just been a dream. But that prayer probably didn’t even touch my bedroom ceiling, as what happened in Connolly’s last night could not have been more real. I heard the BlackBerry vibrating on my bedside table, and watched until it stopped wriggling, before forcing myself to reach across and check the display. Eight missed calls. Oh fuck! I switched it off and dived back under the duvet for cover, not wanting to face the day. Or the world. Or anyone. And certainly not wanting to face up to what happened last night. What the hell was I thinking?! He’s a married man! I kissed a married man! Over, and over, and over again! I squirmed about under the duvet, moaning with the realisation at what this all meant. And what this all meant, of course, was that I, Rebecca Hardy, was now officially…an immoral woman. No better than any of Jeremy’s ‘
bits of fluff
’. A home-wrecker. A Judas. A Jezebel. Great! Just great!

Now, hold on a second. Let me just think this through. I mean, surely this doesn’t
really
mean that I’m as immoral as some of Jeremy’s strumpets? OK, yes, so I kissed him. Admittedly. Repeatedly. But it’s not as if I slept with him. And his witch of a wife did set us up. Surely these are extenuating circumstances that don’t warrant the title of being ‘immoral’? Not really. Feeling a little less chastised, I peeped out from under the duvet and looked at the BlackBerry. Eight missed calls. Were they from him? Maybe they were from the bitch. Isabella. Boy oh boy, did I have a few choice words lined up for her! I considered switching the BlackBerry back on, but I wasn’t ready to talk to her just yet, and I certainly wasn’t…not sure if I ever would be, ready…to talk to Charles. One thing was for damn sure; I could not meet up with Charles Coombs ever again! Isabella’s obviously out to destroy him somehow, and she’s not going to bloody well use me to do so! In fact, first thing on Monday morning I will call and tell her as much, and ask Lauren to refund her any personal shopping days still owed. And I really do not care what she threatens me with!

I finally managed to rouse myself from the safety of my bed and tucked the BlackBerry well away in the back of a drawer. If I couldn’t see it, I wouldn’t have to think about it…or about who was calling. And whether it was him. And wondering how he was feeling, and what he had to say. I looked in the fridge for something to distract me, saw nothing there, so looked in the cupboard. Closed that too, empty handed, and curled up on the sofa, hugging a cushion whilst flicking through channels. I saw the pictures moving on the screen in front of me, but nothing registered. All I could hear was him saying: “
I don’t deserve you.
” My heart started aching again. I closed my eyes and inhaled then exhaled deeply. Life just didn’t seem fair at times. I tried meditating on something positive, but I was struggling to find something that made me smile. Something that would help me not to think about him. I stroked Kitty Kat, watching as she arched her back, and sighed when I heard the familiar annoying sound of the house phone ringing.

“What’s wrong with you?” Abigail asked. “You sound as if you’re about to slit your wrists.”

“You’re as subtle as ever, I see,” I said dryly.

“So, how did it go last night?” she asked cautiously. I sighed. “Well?”

“Well…we ended up kissing.”

“Oh,” she said, sounding rather disappointed. “So I guess Isabella was right about him all along then?”

“What do you mean?” I said sounding a little defensive.

“About him being the cheating kind. You know.
The whole
point
of the exercise.”

“No! He is definitely NOT the cheating kind! That bloody Isabella set us up. Right from the beginning. It was all just some fuckin’ game to her!”

Abigail was quiet for a few seconds and then said, “Darling, Isabella may well have set you up, but she didn’t
make
Charles kiss you. He did that of his own free will.
Knowing
that he’s a married man. That sounds to me, very much like the cheating kind! And the fact that he’s married to some psycho bitch is really beside the point.”

I could feel my blood beginning to boil and I had to delve real deep to find that woman of peace and tranquillity. “You don’t know the whole story Abby.”

“Oh there’s always some story!” she said tartly. “And I’ve heard them all before. So what’s he telling you Becky darling? Is it that he’s not
really
cheating?” she said sarcastically. “That he and his wife have grown apart? Living separate lives?”

I really wasn’t sure what had got into Abby today but I really didn’t have the patience for it. “Why don’t you just shut up?! You don’t even know him, but yet you want to cast judgement! YOU! You of all people!”

“Darling
I’M
not married! And I would NOT get married in the first place, if I still wanted to be fucking around with someone else, which is obviously what Charles Coombs is after!”

“Oh really?” I said throbbing with rage.

“YES. Really!”

“OH! Well THAT must be why after he
wrenched
himself away from me he told me that HE Did Not Deserve Me!” I sobbed, scaring Kitty Kat off my lap. “And THAT must be why, despite the fact his wife has a lover, and is making his life a living HELL, he told me that he can NEVER SEE ME AGAIN, because he’s made a vow to Isabella, and he has to honour it!! So Abigail, you, with your hypocritical judgements can just FUCK RIGHT OFF!!” And I slammed the phone down. It started ringing again almost immediately. I sat rigid, cross-legged on the sofa, listening to the answer machine click on and off, followed immediately by the ringing of the phone again. I snatched it up “What?!”

“Becky…darling, I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I had no idea you felt…so strongly about it all,” sounding as though she were treading particularly carefully.

“I don’t,” I sulked.

“
OK
,”
she paused as if she were going to say something else but changed her mind. Or thought better of it. “Anyway, whatever. Look I’m sorry. I guess I’m just really pissed with the whole Julia and Seb situation.”

“Sure,” I said sniffing, grateful for the change of subject. “Have you heard from her?”

“No. Have you?”

“No, do you think she’s avoiding us?”

“Humph! Well it won’t be so easy for her to avoid us tomorrow now will it?”

And Abby had been right of course. In their house, at the weekly Sunday cookout, it was definitely not so easy for Julia to avoid us. But that didn’t stop her trying.

“Hi girls,” she said greeting us happily with kisses as if nothing was wrong. “I’ll have to catch up with you guys in a sec OK,” she said, already walking off, before
either of us could even open our mouths. “I’ve a million things to do,” and disappeared into the house. Abby and I exchanged looks.

“Oh no she bloody well doesn’t,” Abby said racing back into the house after Julia, with me following very swiftly behind, all the time waving across the patio and smiling at Seb,
who was watching the three of us extremely keenly, as if everything was just hunky-dory. “Juju, darling!” Abby called after her, but when Julia saw that Abby was hot on her tail, she weaved through a crowd of guys watching the football, darted back out onto the patio, and threw herself into the midst of Budweiser-drinking City traders, surrounding Sebastian at the barbecue. By the time Abby and I surfaced, Julia was already in deep conversation with the Denzel Washington lookalike.

“Abby, darling,” Julia said loudly, presumably for Seb’s benefit, “I haven’t even properly introduced you to Bradley?” and literally pushed Bradley in front of Abigail. Bradley laughed at Julia’s not so discreet attempt at matchmaking. Abigail, suspecting Julia’s motives, did not. She calmly, not wanting to alert Sebastian, smiled thinly at Bradley and said:

“We’ve already met,” and went to step past him toward Julia.

“Ah ha,” Bradley said, blocking Abby, “we’ve been
introduced
. But we’ve never actually talked,” and smiled a truly gorgeous pearly white smile.

Abigail glared at him. “Maybe,” Abby said coolly, “that’s because
we
don’t have anything to
talk
about.” A few of the Budweiser-drinking traders within earshot, started making the hissing sound, the way they do when a guy’s just been knocked back by a girl.

Bradley, totally unfazed by Abigail’s lethal weapon of a tongue, laughed. “Oh but babe, I think we have plenty to talk about.”

“For instance?”

Bradley leaned in a little closer to Abby, and spoke quietly, so no one could hear, but I was quite sure I heard the faint words ‘naughty girl’ and ‘spanking’. Suddenly, feeling a touch like the gooseberry, I stepped closer toward Julia, but I was certain I saw Abigail’s cheeks flush. And it wasn’t with anger.

I turned to Julia. “Let’s go make cocktails,” I said, desperate to get her away from Seb, who wasn’t his usual bubbly self today, so I could drill her.

“Sure,” she said happily and pecked Seb lightly on the cheek. “Should I make you one sweetie?” she asked him. He gave her a very strange look and shook his head no.

“Juju,” I hissed, as soon as we were out of ear-shot, “what the hell is going on with you?”

“What do you mean?” she asked innocently, linking my arm, which she doesn’t usually do. I followed her gaze and saw that she was looking over at Seb, who was totally ignoring Abby and Bradley’s hot debate, and watching us like a hawk.

“Juju, you
know
what I mean! You’ve been staying out? Telling Seb you’re either at Abby’s or mine?”

“I did not tell him that. I said I
may
stop over at yours or Abby’s.”

“But you didn’t stay over at ours.”

“Correct.”

“But you did stay out for two nights?”

Julia groaned. “Rebecca!” she hissed, “I am an adult. My own person! I do not have to answer to either you or Abigail.” Now comfortably out of Seb’s line of vision, she loosened my arm, stormed off into the kitchen and started throwing Cointreau into a punch bowl. I stood by the door in a daze and watched her. In all the years I had known Julia, I had never known her to throw a hissy fit. Something was definitely up with Juju and I didn’t even want to start imagining what that
something
could be.

“Julia,” I asked quietly, “are you going to cancel the wedding again?”

She stopped mixing but wouldn’t look at me. “No,” she said. But it didn’t sound very convincing. I leaned back against the counter and watched silently amidst all the background noise of people laughing, cheers when England scored, the music playing, as she poured drinks into cocktail glasses and loaded up a tray. I couldn’t believe this was happening all over again. Julia was going to cancel the wedding. And rip whatever there was left of Seb’s heart to shreds.

“It’s all very serious in here,” Seb said, trying to mask the concern in his voice, as he came into the kitchen. Abby followed closely behind, looked at Julia’s sombre face and shot me a look.

“I’m showing Becky how to make cocktails sweetie,” Julia said trying to sound casual.

“Well, darling,” Abby said sidling up to her, “we don’t want to drink too many of those. We’ve got Body for Life training tomorrow remember?” she said slyly.

“Oh yes,” Julia said in a very fake happy sounding voice, “Body for Life!”

Seb looked at Julia. “Are you going training tomorrow?”

Julia opened her mouth to speak but Abigail cut in, “Of course she is darling,” she said, giving Julia quite a firm squeeze on the arm. “We can go together.” Julia looked at her as if to say:
What do you mean
together
?
“Oooh,” Abby said gleefully, “it’s a Bank Holiday tomorrow, so we’re having a sleepover!” A look of horror crossed Julia’s face. “Isn’t that great! We get to spend the whole day together darlings!”

“It was all Abby’s idea,” Seb apologised to Julia.

“Wow! Fab!” Julia lied. “It’ll be great fun.” Then she looked at me almost pleadingly “Are you staying too Becky?”

“Sorry,” I said. “No can do. There’s no such thing as Bank Holidays at Pamper Moi.”

“Oh that’s a shame, darling,” Abby said. Then placing her arm around Julia’s shoulders and giving her a squeeze, said with a forced laugh, “Looks like the girls will be out numbered tonight then.”

Just then a familiar voice came from behind me but I couldn’t quite place it. “What’s all this about a sleepover?” he asked. I turned around to face Jeremy.
He looked as if he’d eaten a huge slice of humble pie. “Hey Becks,” he said testing the water.

“Hey,” I said simply. I would’ve wanted to say it sounding really bitter, but I didn’t feel bitter. I didn’t feel anything.

“So,” he said cautiously, “you staying over tonight?”

Abigail narrowed her eyes at him. “No!” she snapped. “She’s not. And it’s a full house.”

Seeing a way to crash Abby’s party, Julia piped up, “Jerrers can stay if he likes! Stay Jerrers. Please stay.”