As Weekends Go (Choc Lit) (33 page)

‘Listen, you do not need to apologise to me,’ said Tim. ‘Yes, Greg’s my brother, but we’ve all seen the vast change in him and how it’s affected you. You don’t deserve it. I’m telling you, Rebecca, you owe it to yourself to listen to your heart.’

‘Thank you, Tim,’ she said. ‘Thank you so much.’

She hung up; the glow of her mobile phone across the way, alerting her that she’d received a text message.

A cold tingle sneaked its way over her shoulder blades.

She picked up the phone. One new message from ‘A mob’.

‘Thanks for your text. Sorry, only just seen it. Good game. Good result. Very happy. Hope you’re ok? Back home now and in all night if you want to talk? Be great to hear from you.’

Rebecca closed her eyes and sighed.
Oh, Alex …

She stood her empty wine glass on the draining board and walked back into the dining room. Abi was sitting on Nick’s lap. He had his arms around her waist. They were laughing and joking, noses pressed together. So close. So in love. So beautiful together.

They stopped still when they saw her, looking up at her, expectantly.

‘What is it?’ Abi slid off Nick’s knee and came towards her. ‘What’s happened? Was that Greg on the phone?’

‘No, it was his brother. I told him what’s happened, well, most of it. I’ve also received a text from Alex,’ she said, waving her phone at them. ‘Says he’s in all night if I want to talk.’

‘Fantastic!’ Abi’s eyes widened.

‘I want to see him.’

‘Well, that’s great. Ring him and arrange something,’ said Abi, bouncing around, arms flapping.

‘No, I mean now. There must still be trains out of King’s Cross. It’s not even seven thirty yet.’

‘Honey, I’m all for spontaneity, but I doubt you’d get on one at this short notice. You’d have to get to the station first.’

‘I’ll get a cab.’

‘You really mean it, don’t you?’

‘Absolutely!’

‘Well, we’d better check the train times then,’ said Abi, breathlessly. ‘Pass me my phone, please, Nick.’

‘You do that and I’ll clear away this lot,’ said Rebecca, sweeping up the takeaway cartons in one go and swiftly depositing them in the kitchen bin.

She came back into the dining room to see Abi hunched over her Blackberry.

‘If we get a shift on, Bex, we might make the nine o’clock. Do we even know Alex’s address?’

‘
We?
’ said Nick, gawking at her.

‘Well, you don’t think I’m letting her go up there alone, do you?’ said Abi, gawking back.

‘I don’t know precisely where Alex lives,’ Rebecca admitted. ‘I just need to remember any information he’s told me about the place. It’ll come to me, I know it will. Anyway, I’d better order that cab for King’s Cross.’

‘I’ll take you,’ said Nick. ‘I’ve only had one beer.’

Both women gasped and ran at him, arms outstretched.

‘Nick, are you sure? King’s Cross is hardly five minutes away,’ said Abi.

‘I meant to York,’ he said, disappearing beneath a scrum of female squeals and kisses.

Alex read Rebecca’s text again, furious with himself for not checking his phone properly before he’d left the stadium earlier. He’d received so many extra messages today – good luck wishes, favour requests, post-result congratulations – and had been so inundated with the after-match stuff, he’d ended up switching it off, telling himself he’d catch up with everything once he was home.

Some of the boys were off out tonight to celebrate – winning start and all that – but after last weekend’s mad schedule and subsequent ‘fault or no fault’ bollocking he’d received from his manager for being ‘papped’ amidst flying fists outside that crappy Leeds nightclub, Alex had wanted a quiet one.

Now the one woman he couldn’t stop thinking about had texted him, and not only had he missed it, but it was ten o’clock and she’d yet to acknowledge his tardy response.

Something wasn’t right. Alex knew it wasn’t. And it slayed him to think of her trying to somehow tell him that.

He grabbed a beer from the fridge, pulled on the matching silver-grey top to his tracksuit bottoms, and sat himself under cover on his balcony to watch the predicted thunderstorm descend, knowing that sleep would elude him.

Barring a tailback up ahead or any snarl-ups once they’d left the motorway and joined the A-roads, according to Nick’s SatNav, their ETA in York was 11.15 p.m.

An hour and a quarter to go.

Rebecca was shocked at how quickly they’d managed to leave the house. They’d been in fast forward mode, with her running around chucking bottled water, cereal bars and crisps into a carrier bag.
‘I’m only stopping for diesel’
Nick had warned them, which had prompted Rebecca to then grab her Mastercard. Abi had been on handbag-packing duty, quoting her favourite
‘what one of us hasn’t got, the other will have,’
mantra whilst Nick flew up and down, switching off electrical appliances and locking windows.

Quick dash to the bathroom for everyone, and they’d been out the door. At least they’d all previously showered. None of them had even thought about if, when and where they’d be sleeping that night.

They’d jumped into Nick’s van, with Rebecca and Abi sharing the dual-passenger seat. It had started raining when they’d hit the M1, and had progressively worsened. Nick had flicked his wipers on double-speed.

Now, as they whizzed along, buffeting each other every few seconds, listening to one of Nick’s old skool compilation CDs, Rebecca’s stomach lurched with every passing road sign.

She tried to dispel all thoughts of any possible negative scenarios and outcomes.

Please be there, Alex. Please don’t change your mind and go out.

York station at night in the pouring rain looked and sounded so different, yet Rebecca still experienced shivers of anticipation when Nick pulled over and parked as close as he could get. The familiar tingling in her fingertips returned – so too, the adrenalin surge at the thought of seeing Alex again.

On the way there she’d jotted down in her little pocket-sized notebook anything significant she could recall Alex telling her about his apartment block. He’d mentioned a big map of York hanging on the foyer wall that had fascinated his little nephew, and a bald-headed concierge named Theo (or was it Leo?). She’d written down both names.

‘We’ll ask a cabbie,’ Nick had said, face full of salt and vinegar crisps. ‘Cabbies know everywhere, don’t they?’

The three of them had worked the line of stationary cars at the rank, plus any incoming ones, armed with hope, rather than faith, given the few details they had to offer.

Rebecca and Abi huddled together under an umbrella with two of its spokes bent that they’d found chucked in the back of the van. Nick, having also dug around, now sported the red waterproof hoodie his brother kept in there.

Rain bounced off the pavements. Thunder crashed overhead. Aside from sheet ice underfoot and a raging snowstorm, the weather couldn’t have been fouler.

One kind driver who’d seen Rebecca holding out her flimsy ink-smudged square of notepaper to him, took pity on her and opened the passenger door so she and Abi could duck down inside. Poor Nick, by contrast, over yonder, looked like he needed tumble-drying.

The driver frowned at Rebecca. ‘I can’t promise anything,’ he said, rubbing his chin and turning up the de-mister to re-clear his windscreen, ‘but I think I might know the concierge you’ve described. If it’s the place I think it is, it lays back off the river, stylish-looking, lots of fancy lit pathways with gardens either side. Elmhurst, I believe it’s called. I’ve picked up from there a couple of times in the past. Do you want me to take you?’

‘No, we’re sorted, thanks,’ said Abi, patting a couple of rain splodges on her pink jeans with a tissue, ‘we’ve got our van here.’

Nick ran over at that moment, water dripping off the rim of his hood.

The driver gave them directions before the three of them thanked him and dashed into the station to use the facilities, and in Rebecca’s case, check what little make-up she had on and re-tether her mane.

‘Here, have a spritz of this.’ Abi handed her a body spray. ‘Not that you stink,’ she said, nudging Rebecca’s shoulder, ‘it’s for luck!’

They ran back to the van, hurdling puddles and dodging people hell-bent on scurrying for cover under the portico. Rebecca and Abi had fared quite well. Nick’s broken old brolly had done them proud.

Nick tore off his hoodie – at least his top half was dry even if his cut-downs had copped for it. Surely this rain would ease soon.

Lightning dazzled the gloomy sky as he started the engine.

Rebecca gulped down some water whilst Abi repeated the directions they’d been given. She felt jittery inside – excited, yet at the same time, afraid.

‘Let’s go find Elmhurst,’ Nick announced, cranking up the tension.

The cab driver’s instructions had been spot on. They found Elmhurst, no problem. They just hoped it was where Alex actually resided.

Nick parked in a bay beside a lamppost in front of the building.

‘I bet this place looks fab in daylight,’ Abi said with a sigh, peering through the windscreen at the complex.

‘Preferably
dry
daylight,’ Nick quipped, switching off the engine and lights. He turned his head towards his fellow campers. ‘What now, team?’

Abi glanced at Rebecca. ‘
Bex?
’

Rebecca stared down at her hands, worried they might drop off if they shook any harder, then looked back up at the building, at the various apartment lights twinkling back at her, hoping so dearly that one of them was Alex’s. If she didn’t get out of this van now, she’d bottle it.

‘I’ll go and ask inside,’ she said, swallowing the prickly ball of anxiety scratching her throat.

Abi touched her arm. ‘Do you want me to come with you?’ Rebecca shook her head. ‘Okay, well then Nick and I will be right here, no matter what. Text me once you’re with him and everything’s okay.’

‘I can’t. My phone needs charging. I meant to do it at home but got waylaid when you and Nick came round. I noticed it had no juice when we were back in the station.’

‘Take mine.’ Abi handed Rebecca her Blackberry. ‘Ring or text Nick’s phone. His number’s in my contacts list.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Take the brolly too. You’ll get soaked, otherwise.’ Abi kissed Rebecca’s cheek. ‘Go for it, girl. This’ll be the best move you’ve ever made.’

Nick nodded in agreement. ‘We’re going nowhere, Bex. Don’t matter if you’re five minutes or five hours. We’ve got plenty of grub.’ He reached down the side of him to his door compartment. ‘See! I’ve even still got an old pack of biscuits,’ he said, holding them up and waving them in Abi’s face.

‘
Eeew!
Circa 1995, no doubt,’ she replied, screwing up her nose.

Rebecca gave a nervous little laugh. ‘Thank you both so much. For everything. I really am grateful.’ She slipped Abi’s phone in her bag and unearthed a packet of mints. ‘No one wants to be greeted by eau de cheese and onion,’ she joked. ‘Wish me luck!’

She opened the van door, battling to hold the brolly steady. Blasts of driving rain kept whooshing underneath it, spraying her fringe and face. It was more exposed here, with the breeze off the river.

She had about a two-hundred yard walk to the entrance. She could see the lights on in reception as she drew nearer. A middle-aged black man and a younger lady with a silvery-blonde up-do were standing chatting to one another behind a huge desk. The man was totally bald.

Theo or Leo, Rebecca presumed, fear spiking her chest and tummy.

She reached the main glass doors and studied the backlit gold plaque on the wall to the left of them, bearing names and corresponding apartment numbers, each with a shiny gold button beside it, none of which said Alex Heath. Some buttons had no names beside them at all. Privacy reasons, perhaps?

She ducked under the porch area and folded down the twisted brolly. She’d clearly alerted Theo or Leo because he was walking her way across the foyer.

He opened the door and stared down at her from the step, giving Rebecca a perfect view of the gigantic wall map of York over his right shoulder. ‘Can I help you, madam?’

Something told Rebecca that this man knew she wasn’t a resident who’d simply lost her pass. She could see his colleague talking on the phone to someone. Probably reporting her for trespassing.

‘Er … I’m hoping Alex Heath, the footballer, lives here,’ she said, guessing that Theo or Leo was unlikely to confirm.

‘I’m sorry, madam, but unless you personally know in which apartment here somebody lives and can either tell me so I can contact him or her, or alternatively do it yourself via the intercom, I’m afraid any information on residents is confidential.’

Well, it would be, wouldn’t it?

‘I’d also point out to you, madam, that it’s a quarter to midnight,’ he said.

‘Yes, I’m so sorry. I really do understand. Are you Theo or Leo? I’m sorry, I can’t remember the exact name Alex said when he mentioned you to me. Don’t worry, it was all good,’ she added, aware of how desperate she must look and sound.

His face softened, giving her heart. ‘It’s Theo, madam. And yes, I am he.’

Rebecca pulled out her now-tattered as well as smudged square of notepaper to show him, trying her hardest to substantiate each clue with any scrap of extra information she could muster. If Theo would only buzz Alex and let him know she was here, she was sure he would verify her identity, she politely stressed.

‘Please believe me,’ she said, her eyes imploring him to do so. ‘I’d ring him myself here and now but my phone battery conked on the way up here so I can’t access his number. I’ve come all the way from Purley. My friends Nick and Abi are here and can back up what I’m saying. Please don’t turn me away,’ she said, pointing out Nick’s van to him.

He glanced over at it and back at Rebecca, seemingly unmoved.

Shoulders slumped, she stared down at her rain-splattered cut-downs and soggy pumps.

Theo wasn’t going to let her in.

What a nightmare.

She raised her head. Theo had stepped aside and was holding the door open for her.

‘Come in out of the rain a moment,’ he said.

‘Oh, thank you.’ Rebecca leapt up the step and inside before he changed his mind.

Theo’s colleague half-smiled at her, one eye on Rebecca’s dripping excuse for a brolly and the trail of puddles it was leaving on their super-clean tiled floor.

‘Sorry!’ Rebecca mouthed, adopting her sincerest apologetic stance. She saw Theo indicate something out of sight behind the desk to the woman, who stooped down, reappearing seconds later with a blue and white checked blanket.

‘Here, put this round your shoulders.’ She walked round from behind the desk, handing it to Rebecca and discreetly nodding at her blouse, which had become partly see-through under the foyer lights due to the deluge. She also relieved Rebecca of her umbrella, opened it out and popped it behind the desk to dry.

‘Thank you,’ said Rebecca. They were being so kind to her. Maybe Theo did believe her, after all.

The crashing wall of rain had at last downgraded to shower strength, freshening the air, enabling Alex to once more see the river.

He thought he’d heard his intercom buzz and went inside to check, standing his empty beer bottle on the dining table as he passed by on his way to the entrance hall.

Who the hell wanted him at this time? Not Millsy, Alex hoped. He was supposed to be in Tenerife.

A second buzz sounded.

Alex peered at the CCTV monitor screen. No one out front or back of the building. Must be reception calling him.

He picked up the entry phone. ‘Hello?’

‘Mr Heath, it’s Theo. I’m sorry to disturb you so late, but you have a visitor downstairs. It’s okay, she can’t hear me. Sally-Anne’s talking to her. I’m tucked away in the back office.’

‘
She?
’

‘Yes. She insists you know her, says she’s come all the way from Purley, in south London.’

‘I’m on my way down, Theo.’

Alex didn’t wait for the lift. He took the stairs two by two, pausing when he reached the bottom.

She was sitting side-on in one of Theo’s black, leather swivel chairs, clutching a blanket around her, her damp hair coiled up and held in a bulldog clip, save the couple of loose tendrils falling about her face.

Alex had sensed something was wrong but he’d never expected to see her sitting less than thirty feet away from him. At midnight. Alone.

How had she got here? Had she already been in York when she’d sent him that text earlier on? The time, the distance, the purpose … Was anyone with her? He couldn’t even think straight, let alone say anything.

He was wearing trainers so she didn’t hear him approaching straight away. Sally-Anne also had her attention.

She turned her head, her eyes instantly watering when she saw him. She looked so small and fragile, so pale-skinned, even under the dusky foyer lighting, and so vulnerable, it nearly stopped him mid-stride.

She stood up, still gripping the blanket around her. ‘Alex, I’m so sorry for just turning up like this. Stupid, isn’t it? I had it all straight in my head before I left home. I now realise what an awful cheek it is. I can see how shocked you are. I should have called you.’ She gulped, unable to hide the vocal or physical tremors, the rawness of her emotions agonising to watch.