Hens Reunited (28 page)

She rubbed her arm where Sasha’s witch-mother had dug in her nails. Just for that, the old bag deserved a horror story of her own. If Georgia had had the energy, she’d have gone back to the office and dug up all the dirt possible on the Withington-Joneses. She always rather enjoyed having a battle in public – it was great publicity for the paper, Isabella said, plus it invariably made the celeb in question look ridiculous by the end of it.

Today, though, she lacked the firepower for a scrap. Her mojo seemed to have disappeared, along with her enthusiasm for the job.

‘Cheer up, doll, sun’s shining, the world’s a great place,’ the deli guy said, handing over her coffee.

‘Really,’ Georgia said flatly, dumping some coins on the counter and walking away.

Back in the office, Georgia trudged across the newsroom with her latte. Sandra was eyeing her curiously. ‘Everything all right, kid?’ she asked.

Georgia glanced around the room before perching on the edge of Sandra’s desk. She could see that the words
Why We All Love to Hate
had been typed on Sandra’s Mac and pointed at them. ‘Who do we all hate today?’ she asked.

Sandra chewed hard on her nicotine gum. ‘Haven’t decided yet,’ she replied airily. ‘Maybe Lily Allen. She gets right on my wick. Or Sienna Miller, perhaps. She’s always annoying. Why, got anyone in mind you’d like to see publicly dissed?’

Georgia glanced down at her bare arm where the red crescents from Mrs Withington-Jones’ nails were still visible. ‘Well . . .’ she began thoughtfully.

‘Ahh – got it. Jake Archer,’ Sandra said, interrupting. ‘Very topical. Why we all love to hate . . . Jake . . . Archer,’ she said as she typed, and then smiled to herself. ‘Prepare yourself for a flaying, Jakey,’ she said with a Benson & Hedges chuckle.

Georgia cringed. She wanted Jake handled with kid gloves until she’d had a proper crack at sorting things out between him and Alice.

Sandra looked more closely at Georgia. ‘Sorry – you were about to say something, before I went off on one. You’re not all right, are you? Aunty San can tell. What’s up?’

Georgia hesitated. Would Sandra understand? She didn’t even understand how she was feeling herself. How was she supposed to explain her muddled thoughts to this seasoned old hack, with her hide like a rhinoceros? Sandra would laugh at her, say she was going soft. And then word might get back to Isabella and . . . game over. Goodbye, Georgia. Have a promotion, Polly.

She forced her brightest fake smile. ‘Nothing. Just . . . just wondering how to blag myself into the Sugababes party next week, that’s all. Nothing I can’t fix.’

‘Ahh,’ Sandra said, her eyes a shade narrower. Georgia could tell she didn’t buy it for a second. ‘Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help, yeah?’

‘Sure,’ Georgia said casually, sliding off Sandra’s desk and making her way back to her own. She could feel Sandra’s gaze, heavy with curiosity, on her the whole way.

She sighed as she sat down at her desk. What was wrong with her? She’d hardly done a stroke of work this morning. Alice hadn’t called her back and there was still no word on Jake’s whereabouts. She began half-heartedly sorting through the images that had come in from last night – a nice one of the latest
Big Brother
evictee’s birthday party in the Zed Bar, yeah, she could probably do something with that – when her direct line went.

‘Is that Georgia Knight?’ A breathy, female, northern voice, slightly muffled as if the caller had her hand cupped around the mouthpiece.

‘Speaking.’

‘Oh hi. First off – I love your column. Always read it.’

Georgia continued flicking through the images. ‘Cheers,’ she said, slightly impatiently.

‘And second,’ the girl went on, ‘I work at Malmaison in Manchester – the hotel, yeah? – and I were just ringing to say, you’ll never guess who’s checked in here in the last few minutes . . .’

Georgia’s ears pricked up at once. ‘Tell me.’

‘It’s that Jake Archer – you know, from
Flying High
?’

Georgia gripped the phone so hard she thought it might shatter. ‘You’re sure? You’re one hundred per cent sure?’

‘Oh aye, yeah, it’s definitely him. I heard him signing in at the front desk. He’s up in one of the posh suites.’

Georgia scribbled down a few more details, her spirits soaring. Jake Archer in Manchester – exclusive tip-off! It was a sign, it was definitely a sign. Fate had stepped in and was helping her with her bridge-building. Fate was sending her home.

Just over an hour later, she was boarding the Manchester train in Euston, feeling lighter and more alive than she’d done all day. She was booked into Malmaison on the same floor as Jake. She would somehow or other bring about a resolution with him and Alice, she’d get to see her nan again, and then, she’d track down Owen McIntosh and persuade him he’d got it all wrong about her.

She leaned back in her seat as the train’s engine started up, and watched the Euston platform slip away. Yes. This weekend was crunch time. She was going to make sure that everything – absolutely everything – ended up all right.

Chapter Fifteen

Relight My Fire

Friday, 20 June 2008

Alice woke up on Friday morning with a smile on her face. Iris had slept brilliantly – waking at six for a brief feed, then dozing off again. The storm had passed, the sun was shining and the birds were twittering in the ash tree outside her window. And, best of all, she’d had a great evening with Dom the night before. How could she have got him so wrong? He was lovely. Really funny and charming and good-looking . . . and not Cathy’s ex! He wasn’t a farmhand either, she’d discovered to her mortification – he was a freelance photographer, who’d been working abroad for the last few years, specializing in landscape and wildlife shots. He’d come back to the village to support Cathy when her husband left her, and was currently doing some work for
Somerset Life
, one of the local magazines.

It had been the first evening for months and months – over a year actually, now that she thought about it – that she’d spent alone with a man, chatting and laughing and getting to know one another. Not that anything had
happened
between them, she reminded herself. He was only being neighbourly, calling on her like that. It was just the kind of person he was – friendly and nice and . . .

She was smiling again. There was a skittery feeling that leapt inside her whenever she thought about him. She felt like a schoolgirl, daydreaming about her first crush. A silly crush, that was all it was. It wasn’t as if she was going to
do
anything with him. It was just nice to spend some time with a man. A handsome man. A handsome, charming, really rather lovely man.

Thank goodness for that storm, though! It had rumbled on for at least an hour, by which time they’d managed to drink nearly all of his peace-offering wine. And by then, they’d got over the initial awkwardness and she felt as if they were old friends. Oh yes, and nothing was going on with Natasha either – Alice had asked him outright after the second glass of wine, and he’d told her it had been a stupid teenage thing years ago, but now he couldn’t stand the woman. Alice had all but danced on the spot, she’d been so pleased. Because Natasha was clearly not good enough for Dom, that was all. No other reason whatsoever.

He’d kissed her on the cheek when he’d said goodbye and she’d wobbled slightly on tiptoes trying not to lean into him. Oh! It was just nice to be held by a man again, a man who wasn’t her
dad
. . . She’d held her breath, wondering if he would go any further. She’d be up for it, if he tried to kiss her properly, she knew it.

He
hadn’t
tried to kiss her properly, though. Just as well, she supposed. She might have tried to snog the hell out of him, and then where would they be? He probably didn’t fancy her in the slightest anyway. But that was all right. Yes – it was really all right. Alice was fine just swooning and smiling from afar, nursing her secret crush.

Humming cheerfully, she went to dress Iris and make them both breakfast. Village life was certainly looking up, after its shaky start.

Later that morning, Alice needed to stock up on essentials, so wandered down to the village shop. She left the buggy outside and carried Iris on her hip while she negotiated the aisles, dumping milk, baked beans and Red Leicester cheese into her wire basket. It was slow and tricky going about carrying Iris
and
the basket, and she found herself wishing she’d lunched it and gone to the Tesco instead. She wished that even more a few minutes later.

She rounded the corner and saw Jen and Mags browsing the rack of magazines, completely ignoring Mrs Smithers’ belligerent scowl. ‘All right, Alice?’ Jen asked, pausing her thumbing through the pages of
Heat
magazine to glance her way.

Annoyingly, Alice found herself turning pink at the question as an image of her and Dom laughing about something or other the night before flashed into her mind. ‘Fine,’ she said, not quite meeting Jen’s eye. ‘You?’

‘Oh yeah, not bad, ta,’ Jen replied. ‘Just catching up on the latest goss, you know.’

Mrs Smithers gave a loud, deliberate cough from behind the counter. This too was ignored.

‘Ooh, look, they’ve got a photo here of that gorgeous Leo off
Flying High
,’ Mags said, jabbing at one of the glossy pages of her magazine. ‘He’s lush, isn’t he?’

Alice’s heart seemed to skip a beat at the words. All of a sudden her mouth was dry. ‘Anyway, nice to see you—’ she began, wanting to get away from the conversation. She tried to squeeze past Jen, but the aisle was narrow and there wasn’t room.

Jen was busy leaning over to see the picture. ‘Phwooar, he’s lovely,’ she agreed. ‘I’d join the Mile High Club with him any day. Hey, did you see the news about him this morning on GMTV?’

‘No? What?’ Mags looked up in interest.

Iris let out a squeal as Alice gripped her too tightly.
What
news about Jake on GMTV?

‘Well, do you remember, there was all that scandal when he dumped his wife and got it together with what’s-her-name—’ Jen ducked her head back to the magazine to double-check ‘—Victoria Hartley, who’s Amelia in the TV programme?’

Alice was finding it hard to breathe. Did she remember? Ha ha. Would she ever be able to forget, more like.

‘Oh yeah, vaguely,’ Mags replied. ‘That poor cow. Up the duff, wasn’t she? I remember.’

‘Well, apparently he and that Victoria were seen having a huge row. The reporter on GMTV was saying they’ve split up, and everything. I bet it’s tense on set there right now.’

‘God, yeah, you wouldn’t want to be working with them, would you?’ Mags said. ‘What’s his name again, the actor?’

‘Jake,’ Alice said, her fingers shaking uncontrollably on the wire handles of her shopping basket. ‘His name’s Jake Archer.’ The basket of food fell to the floor with a crash and Iris let out a yell of surprise, but Alice barely noticed. She pushed a hand through her hair wildly, Jen’s words still ringing around her head, echoing over and over.
Jake and Victoria splitting up?
Oh my God. This could be major. This could be seismic. Did it mean . . . ? Could it possibly mean . . . ? She let out a gulp. Might there be a chance that Jake would actually come back to her?

‘Are any of you ladies going to pay for your goods any time soon?’ Mrs Smithers barked, flinty-eyed.

This time they all ignored her. Alice was dimly aware of Jen looking strangely at her. And then Jen clapped a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide. ‘Oh my God!’ she screamed, pointing a triumphant finger straight at Alice. ‘
That’s
where I know you from! I knew I recognized you, didn’t I say? You’re her, aren’t you? You’re the wife!’

Alice nodded dumbly, feeling as if she might very well faint. ‘Yes,’ she managed to say. ‘I’m the wife. I’m the poor cow.’

It was like a weird dream, the next few minutes. Alice turned on her heel and ran out of the shop – ‘Excuse ME!’ she heard Mrs Smithers call shrilly – and then Mags and Jen were running after her, both agog with this breaking news – speechless for at least five seconds, before launching into a series of breathless questions. ‘So you were
married
to him, you were married to
Leo
? I mean, Jake?’

‘Oh my God, I can’t believe it, Alice, is this a wind-up?’

‘Is it true, he’s hung like a carthorse? Only I’ve always thought he
looks
like he is, from when he’s been on telly, you know, the way he stands . . .’

‘So is Iris his daughter? Oh my God – she is, isn’t she? Jake Archer’s daughter in this village!’

Alice was trying to strap Iris back in the buggy but she was all thumbs. At the last words – almost shrieked with excitement – she felt sick. ‘Leave Iris out of this,’ she said, anger thumping through her.

But Mags and Jen were staring at her daughter now, their eyes wide. ‘She does look like him,’ Mags said in a hushed voice
. ‘
Sorry, Alice – I’m just stunned. I mean – what if he’s split up with this Victoria to come back to you?’

Alice swallowed.
Don’t say it, Mags
, she wanted to wail. She still couldn’t actually believe it was true. Jake and Victoria finished, the affair over? It hadn’t sunk in yet. She was stunned at the idea. Speechless. And oh, she couldn’t stop her heart from pounding, her hands from trembling, whenever she dared dwell on the possibility of Jake coming back to her . . .

‘I’ve got to go,’ she said abruptly, wiping her eyes with the palm of her hand. ‘I can’t think straight. I need to get back to the house in case he rings, or tries to get in touch. I mean, I know it might be nothing . . . They might still be together, but . . .’

‘Good idea,’ Jen said, nodding enthusiastically. ‘Want me to come with you?’

‘No,’ Alice replied. No
way
did she want nosy Jen hovering over her, grilling her with more questions and earwigging on any phone calls.

‘Are you sure you’ll be all right on your own?’ Mags asked. ‘I mean . . . if you change your mind . . . This must be a big shock.’