Don't Want To Miss A Thing (17 page)

‘This is more like it.’ Visibly relaxing, Dex sat back and clinked his glass against Molly’s.

‘More like your old life,’ she said.

‘I guess.’ He indicated the rest of the terrace. ‘People I don’t know, meaningless air kisses, superficial Sloaney types talking too loudly and laughing like donkeys.’

‘WaaaAAHHHH,’ squealed Delphi, frustrated by the high chair and doing her best to wriggle out of it.

‘No.’ Dex shook his head at her and handed her another piece of bread. ‘Stay in the chair.’

‘BRRRGGHH-YA.’ Delphi hurled the bread into the air so energetically it reached the next table.

‘So sorry!’ Molly grinned at the brigadier-type and his starchy wife. ‘Could we have our bread back, please?’

They didn’t look remotely amused. Grumpy gits.

‘Stay.’ Dex pointed at Delphi. ‘Honestly, if this was Crufts it would work. Why are babies more difficult than dogs?’

‘
SSSKKKKRISSCCC
.’ Delphi let out an ear-splitting dolphin shriek that caused diners all over the terrace to stop talking and turn their heads in disbelief.

‘I’ll have to take her out of there,’ Dex sighed as she fought to escape the chair. ‘She can sit on my lap.’

‘Ridiculous,’ sniffed the starchy wife at the next table. ‘Bringing a baby to a restaurant when they can’t even control it.’

Dex glared at the two of them as he unfastened Delphi and eased her – literally kicking and screaming – out of the high chair. Delphi repaid him by knocking over his glass of wine with her foot.

‘No problem at all,’ said the charming waiter, arriving with dry cloths. ‘Let me just clean that up for you.’

‘Thanks.’ Molly gamely ignored the cold wine dripping off the edge of the table on to her knees. ‘Can we have another glass of white, please?’

‘Bbbbrkk,’ Delphi trilled, beaming happily across at the flinty-eyed brigadier-type and his wife.

The table was dried, replacement wine was brought and their starters arrived. Holding Delphi on his lap with his left arm, Dex
picked up his fork and dug into his twice-baked cheese and asparagus soufflé with—

‘A-
tchoo!
’

Delphi’s sudden sneeze caught them all by surprise. So did the amount of gunk that shot out of her nose and landed on Dex’s plate.

Or more accurately, on his soufflé.

Oh dear. Any other time it would have been funny. Today it evidently wasn’t. With a look of resignation, Dex produced a handkerchief and wiped Delphi’s nose. For such a tiny one, it had done a lot of damage. He then pushed the plate away and said, ‘I’ll give that a miss.’

Molly said to the sympathetic waiter, ‘Could he have another soufflé?’

‘Of course, but I’m afraid there’ll be a twenty-minute wait while it’s cooked.’

‘Don’t worry, leave it. I’ll just wait for my main course.’

Molly held out her arms. ‘Dex, give her to me. She can sit on my lap.’

He shook his head. ‘Thanks, but I’m fine. Doesn’t matter. Right, let’s just enjoy ourselves, shall we? Look at that.’ He indicated the dramatic gorge beyond the terrace. ‘What a view.’

‘People have bungee-jumped off that bridge,’ said Molly.

He grinned. ‘Sounds like the kind of thing I’d do for a bet. Ever tried it?’

‘No, but I’ve abseiled off a cliff.’

‘Me too. How high was your cliff?’

It was nice to see him start enjoying himself at last. Molly took a sip of white wine and said, ‘Just a bit higher than yours.’

The coup de grâce occurred ten minutes later, just as their main courses arrived at the table. A noise like a small erupting volcano emanated from the depths of Delphi’s nappy.

‘Oh my God.’ Dex burst out laughing for roughly two seconds before the extent of the damage made itself hideously apparent. His face changed as the warmth and wetness sank in. He closed his eyes and said, ‘Shit.’

Which was appropriate.

From across the table Molly could already see it had exploded out of the legs of the nappy and over the top of the waistband at the back. Maybe if Delphi had been wearing an all-in-one suit the worst of it might have been held in. But in a two-piece, containment wasn’t an option. There were also ominous brown stains across the front of Dex’s white shirt and jeans.

‘WAAHHH,’ bellowed Delphi, dropping the car keys she’d been playing with as Dex stared down at himself in horror.

Oh Lord, his
shirt
.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll get the bag from the car.’ Molly scooped the car keys up from under the table, jumped to her feet and ran through the hotel.

Back a couple of minutes later, the receptionist on the front desk said sympathetically, ‘He’s downstairs in the men’s loo.’

‘Thanks.’ Clattering down the stairs, she hammered on the door.

‘This is a nightmare.’ Dex let her in. ‘I don’t know where to start.’

‘It’s OK, I’ll help.’

‘No.’ He took the bag. ‘It’s my problem, not yours. Let me do it myself.’

He meant it. Molly leaned against the sink and watched him laboriously remove Delphi’s poo-strewn clothes. It took an entire packet of babywipes to clean her up – while Delphi lay on her back, cheerfully oblivious, and gurgled at Molly.

At last she was presentable again, in a clean top and lime-green
dungarees. Beaming, she pulled her thumb out of her mouth and said, ‘Baaaa.’

‘Baaaa to you too.’ Molly scooped her up into her arms.

The door to the bathroom was pushed open and the brigadier-type barged in, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight that greeted him. His eyes narrowed at Molly.

‘What the bloody hell’s going on? For God’s sake, what are you doing in here?’ He then turned to Dex. ‘And what d’you think
you’re
doing with that brat?’

Dex replied evenly, ‘Cleaning her up and changing her nappy.’

The man’s grey moustache bristled in disbelief. ‘What’s the matter with you, man? Your wife’s the one who should be doing all that. It’s a bloody disgrace. And look at the state of your clothes. If you can’t control your child you shouldn’t bring it out to places like this. I’ve a good mind to report you to the manager.’

‘Brilliant idea. You do that.’ As he said it, Dex unbuttoned his shirt and took it off. Oh good grief, what was he going to do, challenge the man to a boxing match?

‘Don’t you dare touch me!’ Evidently thinking the same, the brigadier-type backed away.

‘Oh, do me a favour.’ Dex, his eyes rolling with derision, stuffed the poo-stained shirt into the paper-towel bin. ‘Right, we’re off. You have a nice lunch with your wife and don’t worry about us. Whatever you do, don’t let it bother you that you’ve ruined our day.’

They left the bathroom, climbed the stairs and Dex beckoned for one of the waiters to follow them out of the hotel. On the pavement outside the entrance – because standing in reception bare-chested and wearing poo-stained jeans would be all kinds of wrong – he opened his wallet and began peeling off twenty-pound notes.

‘It isn’t that much, sir,’ the Irish waiter protested.

‘Those two miserable fuckers at the table next to us? Pay for their meal too.’

The waiter, who’d evidently heard them complaining, said, ‘You don’t have to do that.’

‘I know, but let’s do it anyway. Bastards.’

‘I’ll tell them you were here to celebrate your wedding anniversary.’ He smiled. ‘I hope we’ll see you again, sir.’

‘Thanks. And you may want to send someone down to the men’s bathroom to empty the bin,’ said Dex. ‘It’s got my shirt in it.’

It wasn’t smelling great in the car, thanks to the present Delphi had left on Dex’s jeans. As they drove along with all the windows down, Molly tried not to glance sideways at his lean tanned upper body. When they passed a clothes shop she said, ‘We could stop and buy you a new T-shirt and jeans.’

He shook his head. ‘No.’

‘Why not?’ In an effort to make things better, she said, ‘Let’s do that! It’s not too late to find somewhere else to eat.’

‘It is.’ Dex paused. ‘Sorry. You must be starving.’

‘I’m not.’ No sooner was the lie out of her mouth than her stomach rumbled.

There was a Burger King up ahead. He pulled in and handed her a tenner. ‘I’ll wait here. You have whatever you want.’

‘Remember in
Pretty Woman
when Richard Gere said that to Julia Roberts? I always dreamed of hearing someone say it to me,’ said Molly. ‘And now they have.’

But Dex wasn’t in the mood to be cheered up. ‘Sorry. We’ll do lunch another day.’

‘Will you stop apologising? What shall I get you?’

‘Nothing. Not hungry.’

He said it again when they arrived home. ‘Sorry.’

‘You’ll look back and laugh about this one day,’ said Molly.

But he was shaking his head; she’d never seen him so pissed off. ‘Serves me right for thinking we could have a nice trip out of here. Spend a couple of hours having a good time.’

His eyes, normally sparkling with playful humour, were bleak with resignation. There was no hint of a smile. He’d been looking after Delphi without a break for weeks and now here they were, back in Briarwood.

‘What are you going to do now?’ Molly watched as he lifted a now sleeping Delphi out of her car seat.

‘Me? Have a shower. Change into something that doesn’t smell like a cowshed. Put the washing on, clean the bathroom. And then when this one wakes up we’ll maybe watch a cartoon, play with some bricks . . . I don’t know. The thrilling possibilities are endless.’

‘Look, go up to London,’ said Molly. ‘See your friends, have a break. Leave Delphi with me.’

Dex had stopped shaking his head. The last time she’d seen a look of hope like that was when Joe and Frankie had presented Amber, back when she was ten, with a choice between the usual caravanning holiday in Wales or a trip to Disneyland, Paris.

‘Really?’

‘Why not? You’re having a bad day. You need a bit of time off and I’m not doing anything else. I’ll look after Delphi, you can meet up with your friends. Stay overnight and come home tomorrow morning.’

Dex’s expression softened. He murmured something that sounded like, ‘That’s what friends are for.’

Molly said, ‘What?’

‘Something you said ages ago. You’re a star. Only if you’re absolutely sure, though.’

‘Of course I’m sure. We’ll be fine. Go on, have your shower now.’ As he nudged the car door shut with his foot, Molly said, ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but the sooner you stop smelling like a zoo, the better.’

He was back forty minutes later, thoroughly cleaned up, wearing black trousers and a dark grey shirt.

‘See? You don’t scrub up too badly.’

As she said it, Molly breathed in the clean citrus scent of his aftershave, so much nicer than before.

‘I feel like a new mum, going out for the first time since giving birth.’ Dex was restored to his normal playful self. He waggled Delphi’s hands and kissed her on the tip of her nose. ‘You be a good girl, OK? I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Delphi stuck her fingers in his mouth and squealed with laughter as he pretended to bite them.

‘Have fun,’ said Molly.

‘That’s the plan.’ Dex handed her the keys to his cottage. ‘The spare room’s all ready for you. Help yourself to anything. I’ll see you tomorrow. And thanks again.’

‘No problem.’ Delphi was clamouring for another kiss; Molly held her up so Dex could oblige. The next moment, just as she was turning away, she belatedly realised he was about to give her a kiss on the cheek too. It was one of those completely-not-expecting-it moments; caught off guard, she jerked her head back round and managed to crack her forehead against his cheekbone . . . oh God, how mortifying, how juvenile.
OK, just pretend it didn’t happen
.

‘Right!’ Flustered, she took a couple of steps back and yanked the door open. ‘Off you go! Wave bye-bye, sweetheart. That’s it, good girl, say bye!’

‘Gaaahhh,’ said Delphi.

Chapter 21

It was six o’clock and Frankie was making cheese on toast in the kitchen. Amber had texted to say she was staying for tea with one of her friends from school, and Joe wasn’t due home tonight, so no need to cook a proper dinner. Instead she could have a snack in front of the TV, watch the programmes she wanted to watch, eat chocolate without having to feel guilty about it and maybe re-do the polish on her toes later in perfect peace.

The front door opened, Frankie jumped and the slice of cheese on toast slid off her plate on to the floor. Cheese side down, naturally.

She called out, ‘Amber? Is that you?’

No reply. But Joe was in Norfolk so it couldn’t be him, surely? Stepping over the slice of cheese on toast, Frankie pulled open the kitchen door.

It
was
Joe.

‘Oh my goodness, you gave me a fright! What are you doing home? I was just making myself some . . .’ Her voice trailed away as she saw the expression on his face. ‘What’s wrong? Are you ill?’ She’d never seen him so pale and drawn. Was he about to
have a heart attack? Why was he looking at her like that? Had he been made redundant?

Joe was shaking his head slightly. ‘I’m not ill.’

‘Is it your job then? Has it gone? Because it doesn’t matter, we’ll manage somehow, we can—’

‘Have you spoken to Amber?’

‘About what? She’s over at Jess’s.’ Frankie’s heart was racing now, her legs wobbly. ‘Oh God, what is it? Don’t tell me she’s in trouble . . . please don’t let it be drugs . . .’ He was still shaking his head, as if he couldn’t stop. Her mouth bone-dry with fear, Frankie croaked, ‘Has she been expelled? Is she pregnant?’

‘It’s nothing like that. I love you, OK? You do know how much I love you.’

Time was slowing down. There was a loud buzzing noise in her ears. ‘Just say it,’ whispered Frankie. ‘Oh God, just say it now. There’s someone else, isn’t there?’

Joe was rubbing his face with his hand; she could hear the dry rasp of stubble against skin. The desperate shake of his head gradually turned into a resigned nod.

‘I love you more than anything. I swear I never wanted this to happen. But yes, there’s someone else.’ Frankie felt nausea rise in her throat, then realised he was still speaking. ‘Two people, actually.’ He paused as she let out an involuntary groan of horror. ‘And Amber knows.’