As Weekends Go (Choc Lit) (16 page)

The first thing that struck Rebecca when Kenny pulled up outside his cousin Ian’s restaurant was its name.

‘Boleyn’s,’
she said, pointing at the signage. ‘As in Ann, I presume?’

‘As in West Ham’s ground,’ said Kenny, shattering her theory.

‘Am I missing something here?’ asked Abi, looking baffled.

‘West Ham United’s stadium, Abs,’ said Rebecca, grinning at Alex as he helped her from the car. ‘It’s called the Boleyn ground.’

‘You a fellow supporter then, Bex?’ Kenny asked, shooting Alex a smug look.

‘No. Just a general football fan, really.’

‘I wonder who your favourite player could possibly be,’ said Kenny, whistling up at the skies then pretending to search all around him for the answer, before winking at her.

‘That would be telling,’ said Rebecca, returning the gesture.

She saw Alex watching her, saw the same smile playing on his lips that had been there since she’d walked into the bar with Abi. It was impossible not to smile back at him, triggering the familiar sting in her cheeks.

Kenny leaned towards Abi and muttered behind his hand, loud enough for Rebecca and Alex to hear. ‘I think we’d better get these two inside before they start sizzling.’

Abi shot him a mock-stern look. ‘Behave!’

Kenny rubbed his hands together. ‘Come on, folks! I’m starvin’!’

He led them through some glass double doors into the restaurant foyer. ‘Joke is,’ he said, ‘if Ian had had his way, he’d have named this place Hammers, but his Mrs put the block on it. Spanish, she is.
Well
feisty. Poor bloke hardly gets to see West Ham play now he’s moved up here.’

A petite dark-haired lady in a coffee-coloured maxi dress greeted them at the front desk.

‘Evening, Yolanda. We were just talking about you,’ said Kenny, smirking round at the others as he embraced her. ‘You know Alex, already, don’t you? This is Rebecca and Abi.’

‘So nice to meet you,’ said Yolanda in perfect English, shaking everyone’s hands. She turned to Kenny. ‘Ian’s in the bar with your Uncle Eddie, and Marina.’ She raised immaculately sculpted eyebrows. ‘I’ll tell them you’re here.’

‘Nothing changes does it, Yo? You do all the grafting whilst that cousin of mine drinks all the profits.’

Yolanda half-smiled as she handed them over to the suave looking waiter standing beside her, and drifted off in search of Kenny’s wayward relatives.

The waiter led them to a table set for six, favourably positioned for maximum privacy.

Rebecca kept her eyes on the rich mahogany floor. Being a Sunday she hadn’t thought it would be this busy, but already people had clocked their arrival. Another reminder of Alex’s fame and how she was experiencing a tiny fraction of the scrutiny he no doubt faced most times he went out, although this crowd didn’t particularly look the type to dash forth with their autograph books.

The majority of diners were seated behind them. The waiter, having clearly been briefed on place settings, had manoeuvred them so that only Kenny’s uncle and his lady friend would be facing outwards, with Rebecca and Abi sat between Alex and Kenny.

‘Love the décor,’ said Abi, eyes swivelling upwards. ‘It’s got a Moroccan feel to it, hasn’t it?’

‘Yes, it’s beautiful,’ said Rebecca. She’d half-expected it to be decked out in West Ham’s colours after what Kenny had said about his cousin. Instead, the curved walls and ceilings were swathed in burnt orange silk, with the soft lighting and stylish, mushroom coloured upholstered chairs giving it that added intimacy.

Kenny ordered two bottles of Moet. ‘No point in letting my uncle pick it,’ he said, ‘his taste in booze is diabolical.’

‘What was that, cheeky bollocks?’

Uncle Eddie
, Rebecca presumed, hardly daring to turn round.

Mass introductions ensued, with lots of back-slapping for Alex and Kenny and yelps of delight for, as Rebecca and Abi were so elegantly labelled, ‘their little playmates’.

Eddie Mills, sixtyish, with a white crew cut, resembled a mafia don, with a leathered face, sharp grey suit and gold sovereign rings. Marina, his forty-something moll, had on an ill-fitting leopard print top, with a neckline so low Rebecca could see her bellybutton rings, and a pair of black leggings which were stretched so tight across her thighs, they were almost see through. The fountain of burgundy hair extensions and trowelled on make-up completed things.

‘Interesting ensemble,’ mumbled Abi.

Rebecca steadied herself as Marina dived forward.

‘Nice gaff, this, innit?’ she screeched, plonking down in her chair.

Mercifully, Kenny’s cousin came over. As brash as Kenny, but half as good looking, he shoved his head in between Rebecca and Abi.

‘Hello, girls, I’m Ian. Lovely to meet you both.’ He shook their hands and then handed them each a menu, before turning to Alex. ‘How’s it going, big fella? ’Bout time you signed for a decent club.’

‘Like who?’ said Alex, grinning at him.

Five minutes of good-natured mickey-taking followed.

‘Most clubs couldn’t afford you now, could they, Alex?’ thundered Eddie at the top of his gravelly voice.

‘Yeah. It said in my paper last week that you’re on ’undred and eighty grand a week,’ squawked Marina.

Abi’s mouth pinged open. ‘Bloody hell, Bex. That’s double what Nick and I earn between us in a year,’ she whispered.

‘Don’t believe everything you read in the press, Marina,’ said Alex, retaining his diplomacy.

The champagne arrived, sadly followed by an embarrassing debate about the starters on offer.

‘Beetroot and goat’s cheese croquettes?’ Marina screwed up her nose. ‘Bit ponsey, innit?’

Kenny flashed his cousin a scornful look.

‘I’m sure chef can rustle you up something you’ll like,’ said Ian, nudging Yolanda, who’d reappeared, back in the direction of the kitchen.

‘That’s my boy.’ Eddie thumped his son between the shoulder blades, almost winding him. ‘Don’t know why you bother with all this fancy junk. Half of the stuff on this menu’s bleedin’ foreign.’

‘And he wonders why Ian moved up here,’ murmured Kenny.

Rebecca kept her eyes on her menu. She decided on the Thai crab and salmon fishcakes, taking solace in her glass of champagne as the waiter wrote down their orders.

She’d hardly spoken two words to Alex since they’d arrived. Now scary Marina had hijacked him and was cross-examining him about his private life, boobs resting on his side plate.

‘So, is Becky your latest, then?’ Rebecca heard her ask. ‘Only the last time I saw you, you were with that Stacey. What a money-grabbing little trollop she turned out to be. Stitchin’ you up to the press, like that!’

Rebecca could sense Alex’s discomfort without even looking at him.

‘Rebecca’s just a friend,’ he said, freeing his arm from Marina’s frosted pink talons. ‘She and Abi are staying at Hawksley Manor.’

‘Lucky lady,’ said Marina. She spied Rebecca’s wedding ring. ‘Don’t worry, love. Your secret’s safe with me.’ She swooped on her mobile phone as it bleeped at her from her handbag, granting them temporary reprieve as she read whatever message she’d received.

Alex twisted his upper body to face Rebecca, bringing his mouth close to her ear. ‘Any chance these chairs of ours have ejector buttons?’

She bent her head, pressed her forefinger to her mouth to stop herself laughing. ‘I will, if you will.’

They looked up as Eddie Mills reeled back in his seat, guffawing. ‘Hey, Alex, listen to this. Marina reckons it’s about time I stopped going to lap dancing clubs.’ He leered across the table at Rebecca. ‘You don’t mind Alex going, do you, love?’

A deathly silence befell the table.

‘You’re a bloody letch, Eddie Mills,’ said Marina, backhanding his arm. Then, excruciatingly for Rebecca and Alex, ‘Anyway, these two aren’t sharing a bed, they’re just sharing the same hotel.’ She turned to Rebecca. ‘You’re a married woman, aren’t you, Bec?’

‘Sharing the same hotel?’ Eddie nearly spewed half his champagne down his front. ‘Do me a favour.’

‘Eddie …
Please.
You’ll offend the other diners,’ said Yolanda, arriving with some of the starters.

‘Yeah, let’s talk about something else,’ said Kenny, exercising some good sense for once.

They began eating, which gifted Rebecca some precious composure time, mainly due to Abi, love her, broaching Eddie’s favourite subject. Himself.

No such luck for poor Alex. Marina grilled him well into the main course.

Did he still own the Jag?
Yes
.

Any other cars?
Yes, a BMW X5.

Where did the sexy tan come from?
The Bahamas.

Did he go with Kenny?
No, Mum, Dad, elder brother, Rob, and his family.

Wow! He must be really close to them all?
Yes, very.

Did he want a wife and kids one day?
Of course
.

Been golfing in Portugal at all this year?
Yes, with Kenny and some other friends.

For a minute Rebecca thought Marina was going to ask him how many lovers he’d had, even if she
was
secretly devouring every snippet.

Steadily, she was getting to know the man behind the footballer. The man who wore her favourite aftershave. The man who liked scallops followed by halibut but wasn’t keen on the buttered spinach served with the latter because he kept pushing it round his plate. The man who liked lots of pepper on his dinner but little salt. The man who, in spite of being cross-examined, kept throwing little glances of reassurance her way. The man who, like her, was very close to his family. The man who, despite his wealth and status, appeared to value the simple, traditional things in life.

And the man who, as much as she loved Greg, was continuing to stimulate every sense Rebecca had been blessed with.

‘Pork looks tasty,’ he said, with outrageous timing, his full lips, so kissable, inches from her face.

‘Yes, it’s lovely,’ said Rebecca, narrowly avoiding choking on it.

Marina, luckily, was too busy channelling chips into her gob to notice. As was Eddie, who was still blowing his own trumpet well into dessert, whilst simultaneously shovelling profiteroles down his throat. It gave Rebecca indigestion watching him. He only drew breath when the coffees arrived.

After which Ian Mills appeared with six brandy glasses.

‘Not for me,’ Kenny shouted, waving his cousin away. ‘I’ve got my sensible hat on.’

‘You
what?
Get a cab, you lightweight!’ Eddie yelled, jabbing a bejewelled finger at him. He let out a super-loud, garlicky belch, before coughing his guts up.

The raw uncouthness of it tickled Rebecca and Abi whose knees were on permanent ‘knockathon’ beneath the table. Marina, tits crashing together like coconuts, thumping Eddie on the back whilst he gasped for air. The other diners were gobsmacked.

Every time Rebecca thought she’d trapped the urge to laugh, it reared up in her throat again, made worse by the sudden image she had of Greg being there, face crumpled in horror, staring at Marina as though she’d landed from another planet, not finding it remotely comical at all.

She’d give herself hiccups in a minute.

Think of something mundane, Rebecca. Changing the bedsheets, the ironing pile, anything.

Alex leaned in again, trying to curb his own laughter, eyes crinkled with amusement. ‘Time to leave, I think.’

‘Oh, gosh, I’m sorry,’ she said, keeping her voice equally low. ‘I know I shouldn’t find it so funny, but you’ve got to admit, they are …’

‘
Unbelievable?
’

She giggled. ‘No … colourful personalities was what I was going to say. I find Eddie a little overbearing, that’s all.’

‘That’s putting it mildly.’ Alex took out his phone. ‘Why don’t I call us a cab. We can have a drink back at the hotel, if you like?’ Her heart leapt. ‘If you want to, that is?’

Was he kidding? Anything to get away from Eddie and Marina.

‘That would be lovely,’ she said, playing with the sash on her dress. ‘But why the cab? I thought Kenny was driving.’

‘He is. But I suspect he’ll try and persuade Abi to go on to a club, and I wouldn’t rule out Eddie and Marina tagging along. I thought it might be nice to spend a bit more time together before you go home tomorrow. The hotel bar won’t be packed. It never is on Sunday nights.’

‘You mean just the two of us?’

‘Yeah. Why, is that a problem?’

‘Um … no, not really, but won’t the others think it a bit funny?’

‘They can think what they like,’ said Alex, eyes penetrating hers. ‘It’s only a drink.’

Rebecca smiled at him, Abi’s words reverberating around her head:
‘You’ll be back in Realityville on Monday!’
‘Sure,’ she said. ‘I’d love to.’

If Abi was shocked, she masked it well. ‘Of course I don’t mind,’ she said, tucking a wisp of hair behind Rebecca’s ear. ‘Although I can’t believe you’d rather sip mojitos with Mr Heath over there, than mambo with the Edster.’

‘
Mambo?
’

‘Apparently we’re going to some Latin American dance club.’

‘You’re joking.’

‘Do I look like I’m joking? Can you imagine him and Marina going for it? He’ll probably croak after one dance.’

Kenny’s ears pricked up. ‘You bailing out, Bex?’

‘She’s a bit tired,’ said Abi, elbowing him. ‘She’s getting a cab back with Alex.’

‘Yeah?’ Kenny’s face broke into a devilish grin.

‘Make sure you text me from the hotel,’ said Abi, going all big sisterish.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Rebecca, aware that Alex must be wondering what the three of them were gossiping about. ‘I’ll let you know as soon as I’m there.’ She turned to Alex. ‘Ready when you are.’

Eddie and Marina exchanged cynical glances as Alex excused himself from the table to go and call the cab.

‘Early night, son?’ Eddie enquired, when he returned five minutes later. He grinned across the table at Rebecca. ‘Don’t wear him out, love, he’s back in training next week.’

Rebecca didn’t even blush this time, she was so desperate to get out.

Alex’s phone beeped.

‘Cab’s here,’ he said, motioning for her to stand.

‘Blimey! That was quick.’ Rebecca gathered up her bag, giving Abi a quick hug before bidding the others goodnight, with Marina insisting they all come down to East London to visit her and Eddie some time.