Pink Wellies and Flat Caps (34 page)

4)
        
Torch. We surely have a torch somewhere. I can’t say I have ever seen one. You don’t really need a torch that much in the city.

5)
        
Box. I’m not sure what I’ll do with a box but it somehow seems a good idea when dealing with animals and the rescue of them. Although of course in theory I’m not doing the rescuing. I actually plan to thwart all rescue attempts, except for Pepper of course. The truth is I’m not actually sure what I plan to do about Pepper after he has been rescued.

6)
        
A plan. Item five brings to mind the fact that I don’t have one and I probably should. Right now my only plan is to go rushing down to Cornwall without the faintest idea what I intend to do once I get there.

I flop onto the couch and stare at the blank TV screen as if
it will offer an answer. My stomach feels hollow and I realise I haven’t eaten since breakfast. I guiltily bite into a mince pie. It is just two weeks before Christmas and two weeks before my wedding day, and I’m nowhere near ready, for Christmas that is, I’m totally ready for my wedding day in the sense that everything is organised. I’m not so sure I personally am ready though. I text Georgie to tell her I am leaving for Cornwall.

I consider whether I will need a mask. At least that way I can rescue Pepper without Charlie ever knowing it was me. Although of course it is very unlikely that Charlie will even see me. Nothing ever
happens the way you imagine does it? Most likely Charlie and his cronies will get cold feet and not do anything in the end. All the same I ought to go just in case. At least this time I know not to wear Christian Louboutin shoes. I think of my pink wellies and experience a horrible churning in my stomach as memories of Edward and Chloe come rushing back. I consider taking the wellingtons with me but decide not to. I put trainers on and take a look around the basement flat as though I will never see it again. My hands get sweaty when I realise that this could be the end of Charlie and I. If he finds out I tried to thwart his plans especially now that he is chairperson of the FFFAA, he will be livid. There’s still time to change my mind, I don’t have to go. No, that’s not true, I do have to go. I could not live with myself if I didn’t. I wrap a pashmina around my neck and throw a shawl around my shoulders. With a determined thrust of my jaw and a straightening of my back I open the door of the basement flat to the snowy cold outside and find myself wondering what Truro looks like in the snow when I walk straight into Georgie.

‘I’m coming with you,’ she says, shivering and shaking snow off her woollen hat.

‘What?’

‘I can’t let you go all that way on your own.’

‘It’s Cornwall,’ I say smiling, ‘not Outer Mongolia.’

‘Yes well. You can’t cope with a pig on your own and anyway, I need a break. I’ve taken four days off work and
…’ she stops and looks at me tearfully.

‘He isn’t going to leave her is he?’

I shake my head.

‘I’m a stupid bitch,’ she mumbles.

I hug her and try not to cry. I’ve never been happier to see her in my life.

‘Come on let’s go,’ she says sternly, ‘before we have to dig Charlie’s Jaguar out of the snow.’

Georgie

I’d thought about the bum magazine all the way home. What a bastard. I know it isn’t a big deal, and loads of men have bum
magazines, or worse, in their briefcase. It wasn’t so much that, it’s Charlie’s attitude that really pisses me off. The way he talks down to Ali, and the smarmy way he slides his hand up her leg in public. Just the thought of him doing his rescue crap behind her back seems all wrong. But that and the bum mag, it is enough to put any woman off. And then there was James. I’d gone to the Veggie Grill in the hope Bess might have some doughnuts. I’d been there only a few minutes and was waiting for Bess to pop the doughnuts into a bag when James had walked in. I was frozen to the spot. On his arm, and laughing loudly, was Maureen. Maureen the wife who, he is fond of telling me, is so depressed most days that she cannot get out of bed. Yes, well I can clearly see that. She is not only happy and blooming but also pregnant. Bugger me. You could have knocked me down with a feather. How could the depressed cow be pregnant when they never have sex? What a bloody amazing recovery she has made. Bess turned me around like some mechanical doll and led me to the back of the café.

‘Are you okay dear?’ she asked, her cheeks glowing from the heat of the oven matching the bright red of her hair.

I peek through the hatch to check it is a pregnancy bump and not a ‘too many doughnuts’ one.

‘I don’t believe it,’ I said, too stunned to cry.

‘Men are bastards.’

‘He told me she was clinically depressed, and that he couldn’t leave her in case she killed herself.’

We had peeped through the hatch as James and Maureen had stood laughing and hugging at the counter. Her wispy brown hair looked newly cut and styled.

‘
She must be on a bloody high dose of Prozac, that’s all I can say,’ giggles Bess.

I stared mesmerised at the baby bump.

‘I agree. She’s made a marvellous recovery not to mention the marvellous pregnancy. That was quite a miracle considering he doesn’t have sex with her,’ I’d scoffed

‘Oh really?’ remarked Bess.

‘Yes. She’s always too depressed for that as you can see for yourself,’ I said as Maureen roared with laughter at something James said. Her hand instinctively touched her stomach as she rocked back and forth laughing. Bess shook her head.

‘One of those Immac conceptions,’ she said.

‘I don’t know that Immac had much to do with it. Immaculate perhaps.’

‘That too,’ she’d said nodding.

‘How much longer are you going to make them wait?’ I’d asked.

‘Well they seem quite happy.’

‘Unfortunately,’ I said with a scoff.

‘Do you want to go out the back way? I’ll throw in an extra doughnut.’

‘Bribing me with doughnuts now are you? Is this so I don’t make a scene?’

‘I don’t want the shock to burst her waters.’

‘Break her waters. It would be a bit shocking if they burst, unless she’s giving birth to Satan or something. Mind you, that wouldn’t surprise me.’

‘I don’t want Damien born in the café. I’ll give you two extra doughnuts.’

‘Damien has already been born,’ I said looking at James and fighting back the tears.

I know it sounds stupid but I never ever considered he had been lying to me. All that talk of leaving her when she was better. That’s never going to happen is it, especially considering she isn’t even sick? How could I have been so stupid? And how could he
have been so cruel? How will I cope now? Who will I have a drink with after work? Who will take me to the opera? I’ll be one of those sad single women eating a TV dinner for one and going to bed early with a Mills and Boon novel. Christ, I’d rather slash my wrists than be seen with a Mills and Boon.

‘Perhaps I should make a scene,’ I’d said angrily, feeling James deserved all he got.

But then James had spotted me and began staring at me like a rabbit caught in headlights. There was a pleading look in his eyes and for a fraction of a second, and only a fraction I assure you, I actually felt sorry for him.

‘You can do better girl,’ whis
pered Bess seeing my confusion.

She was absolutely right of course. I didn’t need a two
-faced prick like James in my life. I had good friends, a brilliant job and I might not be Jennifer Aniston but I’m not far from it.

‘You’ll regret it,’ Bess had warned.

Thankfully I took her advice and left the back way. I hadn’t even made it half way home when James phoned my mobile. I ignored the familiar ring tone with a heavy heart. I eventually stopped and sent him a text which simply said
fuck off.
I then turned around and headed back to Ali’s. She is my best friend after all, and if anyone will understand what I am going through it will be her.

I’ve always been nervous driving the Jaguar. It’s Charlie’s pride and joy, a red Jaguar XF Sports. He’s had it for over nine months but it still has that new smell which I am dead worried will be overtaken by pig-shit stink. I’ll have to get Georgie to spray with a room deodoriser every five minutes. I won’t mention it yet. I still haven’t found the courage to tell her that I will be bringing Pepper back with us. She’s under the impression that we are going to Cornwall to warn everyone, followed by a nice dinner, a few glasses of wine and then we’ll come home. It’s like a day trip for her. I’m as nervous as a kitten. The nearer we get to Cornwall the more my stomach churns. Georgie moans in her sleep, turns suddenly and hits me in the ribs.

‘Christ, it’s like a sauna in here,’ she groans wiping perspiration from her forehead. ‘Can you turn the heating down?’

I shake my head and suggest she opens her window. She squints sleepily at the windscreen.

‘It’s sleeting out there, why the hell would I want to open a window?’

‘Because I can’t work out how to turn the heater off,’ I snap.

‘Bloody hell, keep your hair on.’

Leonard Cohen’s
Take This Waltz
plays again for the umpteenth time, and I sigh. Georgie fumbles in her seat and finally sits up.

‘I know I said I like Leonard Cohen but this is a bit overkill don’t you think? I’ll be singing this in my sleep. Are you doing some kind of mind control on me? This is bloody torture.’

‘I thought you were sleeping.’

‘I was dreaming of James, with Leonard Cohen singing in the background, obviously. I was telling him what a crap fuck he was. I may still text him with that fact actually
,’ she says angrily pulling her mobile from her bag.

I tilt my head slightly to look at her.

‘Bad idea.’

‘It’s this Leonard Cohen music. It’s seriously driving me to slash my wrists.’

‘I can’t seem to stop it. Nothing seems to work. This car is alive, I swear.’

‘
Are you seriously telling me that for the entire journey I have to listen to Leonard Cohen while I roast to death?’

I hate to be the bearer of bad news. I raise my eyebrows.

‘Oh fuck,’ she groans, stroking her head with a stick of
4head
, ‘I’ll end up with a bloody Leonard Cohen induced migraine.’

A voice butts in with
turn around when possible.

‘Oh piss off,’ I say.

‘Who the hell is that?’ asks Georgie.

‘The stupid
satnav. I can’t turn him off either. He’s been telling me to turn around when possible for an hour and a half now.’

‘Jesus Christ, it’s like a bloody Brian Rix farce with you.’

The Jaguar shudders and seems to change gears on its own.

‘Christ, what’s the bloody thing doing now?’ screeches Georgie.

‘I’m not sure,’ I reply, anxiously checking the temperature gauge.

‘
The bloody thing needs exorcising. It’s possessed.’

There is another shudder and I grasp the steering wheel.

‘I’d better pull over onto the hard shoulder,’ I say in a panicky voice.

Oh please God don’t let there be a problem with the car. I swear Charlie will go mad and he is bound to blame me.

‘The services are only two miles away. At least we can get coffee there, and have a pee,’ urges Georgie. ‘It isn’t serious, after all no lights are flashing,’ she adds unhelpfully. ‘If it’s anything serious a light usually comes on, so it must be okay. We’ll make it to the services for sure.’

‘Maybe this car doesn’t give warning lights.’

‘Perhaps repeatedly playing Leonard-bloody-Cohen is a warning.’

It shudders again and then begins to splutter and jerk.

‘Oh God,’ I say anxiously.

‘It’s having some kind of fit, you’d better pull over. Jesus, I hate peeing in the bushes.’

I slowly move over onto the hard shoulder and bring the car to a halt, along with Leonard Cohen and the heating. Georgie stretches her Pilates-toned arms above her head and groans.

‘Now what?’

I open a bottle of coke and drink thirstily from it.

‘Phone the AA I suppose,’ I say grimly.

‘I think it got tired of sodding Leonard Cohen, I mean, who wouldn’t? What’s Alcoholics Anonymous going to do? My name is Georgie and I haven’t had a breakdown since I last played Leonard Cohen,' she laughs.

‘It’s not funny. This is all I need. Charlie will murder me before he has even married me.’

‘As long as you don’t call the FFFAA,’ she giggles.

I give her a filthy look.

‘Cheer up Ali, it could be worse.’

She strains to see her reflection in the mirror while I struggle to find the hazard lights and the number for the AA. The contents of the glove compartment are stacked so neatly that my hand trembles as I search through them for his AA details. Finally, with my heart pounding I abort my mission.