Still Thinking of You (18 page)

‘I think I might ask her to be a witness at the wedding. You know, sign the paperwork. She is a girl I can get on with.’ The temperatures were subzero, it was possible to see your breath dance in front of your mouth when you spoke, but until Tash had said this Rich hadn’t felt the cold. Now he was sure icicles were hanging from his nose. She continued, ‘She’s very kind and principled, and yet she has a wicked sense of humour. She seems really spirited, great fun.’

Rich felt his intestines liquefy. How could Tash have got it so wrong? Kate was the kind, principled one. Mia was the fun, spirited one. Jayne was the good-fuck, mind-fuck. It was a horrible thought: Jayne witness at his wedding. What if she decided to interrupt the service? She could choose that moment to confess all her sins. More to the point – all his. Why hadn’t he ever mentioned Jayne? Why hadn’t he included her in his stories? It wasn’t as though Tash was shockable. Far from it. Christ, she’d taught him a trick or two; he’d admit it. And Jayne didn’t mean any more or less to him than the other women he’d slept with. Jayne didn’t mean anything. She’d never meant anything. Why hadn’t he mentioned her? Rich knew that he had to tell Tash about his past with Jayne, before Jayne did. He could just drop it into conversation now.

Right now.

He could just casually say something like, ‘No way, not since I’ve slept with her; that would be weird.’ And then Tash would say, ‘I didn’t know you’d slept with Jayne.’ And he could say, ‘Didn’t I mention it? Well, it was years ago, when she was still at school. I’m sure I mentioned it.’ He wouldn’t have to tell her that they’d had casual sex secretly for nearly a decade. He would have defused Jayne’s bomb. He’d be safe. They’d be safe.

He’d tell her.

Sure, she would be a bit huffy. She’d probably sulk for a bit. Maybe all night, but he’d talk her round. She’d always said that she didn’t care what he’d got up to, or whom he’d got up, as long as he was honest about it. It wasn’t as though he’d slept with Jayne since he’d met Tash. He’d only seen her once and that was to call it a day. The meeting had been entirely platonic, despite Jayne’s pleas for it to be otherwise. He’d tried to do the right thing at the end.

But what if he confessed and Tash didn’t get over it? What if she was really angry and she called the wedding off? What if she became unreasonably jealous of Jayne and was inconsolably angry at him for keeping a secret from her? He came back to the crucial point, what if she called the wedding off? He could not bear that.

He could not risk it. He couldn’t face it. Tash had such an unwavering belief in him. She was always going on about how important honesty is. She dealt honestly with everyone she met, but she took the gamble that her straightforward approach would not always be met with the same respect. But from him she
demanded
honesty. And he wanted to give it to her; it just seemed impossible now. Tash trusted Jayne. They’d become friends and swapped intimacies. Tash would feel a fool if Rich gave her the whole lowdown. It was too late now.

Rich took a deep breath and tried to tell himself everything was OK. They were a party of eight. There were 153 kilometres of piste in Avoriaz alone. Not to mention the other Portes. He could avoid Jayne. Yes, that was best. He’d try to minimize all contact with her and, if he could, he’d steer Tash away from her, too.

Today was almost over, tomorrow was Monday. On Friday, they’d be married. He could avoid Jayne for five days.

He’d often heard women accuse men of being emotional cowards. He thought it was a shame that they were right about this, when they were so wrong about many other things.

‘I’m getting cold. Let’s get back to the hotel,’ said Rich, and he kissed Tash’s nose.

He loved her cute nose. He’d started and ended his day loving her. That had to be enough, didn’t it?

30. Not Tonight, Darling

‘I called home,’ said Kate. She was sitting at the dressing table massaging moisturizer into her skin. She made exaggerated, upward, time-and gravity-defying strokes.

‘Good,’ replied Ted. He was sitting on the side of the bed. He was trying to take his snow boots off. But his feet seemed a long way down, and he wasn’t sure if he could bend that far. How much had he had to drink at dinner?

‘The children are all fine.’

‘Good.’

‘Fleur has been practising.’

‘Good.’

‘Mum had to take Tiger to the vet’s.’

‘Good.’

‘Ted, are you listening to me?’

‘Yes, yes, of course I am.’

‘Tiger got into a fight with another tomcat and needed to go to the vet’s.’

‘Serious?’

‘I don’t think so. He needed antibiotics and has to be kept indoors. Poor Mum, having to keep three children and Tiger indoors.’

‘How much?’

‘How much what?’

‘How much was the vet’s bill?’

‘I have no idea. Mum did say. I can’t remember. One hundred and eighty? Two hundred and eighty? I can’t remember.’

Ted sighed. Bloody cat. They should never have bought a pedigree. They were bad-tempered with an overinflated assessment of their own hardiness. Tiger was always getting into spats with tougher moggies. They should have gone to the RSPCA and picked something up there. And now another vet’s bill.

Kate slipped into her pyjamas and dashed to hide under the duvet. It was cold and, besides, she’d eaten four large meals today. She wasn’t sure that she could convince herself that huge overhang was water retention. She sat up in bed and reached for her hand cream. She always applied hand cream last thing at night. She always meant to apply it every time she washed her hands, as the magazines advised, but, despite having hand cream in every bathroom and next to every sink in the house, she never got around to it. She massaged the cream with swift, efficient strokes, then picked up her novel. It was the latest hyped faux lit, she felt she had to.

Kate watched Ted undress. His movements contrasted with hers. Where she was efficient, breezy and purposeful, he was languid, lazy and lethargic. Kate scowled. Was it just that he’d wound down faster than she had? Was he already in the holiday mood, relaxed and ready to be recharged? Maybe. Kate wanted to think so. But there was something about Ted’s movements that suggested depressed, rather than de-stressed.

‘Isn’t it fantastic to see the old gang again?’ Kate commented. ‘Nobody has changed, have they?’

‘Don’t you think so?’

‘Not at all. I thought dinner was just like old times. Everyone was on top form. I love the constant banter, the chat. What would Jason call it? The vibe.’

‘Yes, everybody does seem very jolly,’ agreed Ted. He hadn’t really been able to follow the banter at dinner. He was stumped. He couldn’t think of any clever stories or witty comebacks. That had always really been Jason and Rich’s field.

‘Lloyd seemed to have cheered up,’ added Kate.

‘Hmmm.’ Ted wasn’t sure. Who knew what was going on in another man’s mind? ‘Mia is a little caustic, don’t you think?’ Mia’s tongue had managed to slash through even Ted’s self-indulgent fog of worry.

‘She always was a little sharp,’ said Kate.

‘But she is more so now, don’t you think?’

‘She’s more confident now. Dares to say what she thinks.’

‘You think it’s that, do you?’

‘Don’t you?’

‘I wondered if she was happy.’ Ted often wondered who was truly happy nowadays and who was simply good

at putting on a show.

‘Oh, I think she is,’ encouraged Kate. Kate liked people to be happy and rarely looked for anything else. ‘Tash and Rich are very much in love, aren’t they?’

‘I imagine they are,’ smiled Ted. It was impossible not to be warmed by Kate’s enthusiasm.

‘And Jayne is fitting in nicely.’

‘Yes, no sign of her broken heart,’ grinned Ted wryly.

‘No,’ confirmed Kate.

‘I think she took us for a ride.’

‘Yes,’ confirmed Kate, pleased that her husband had reached the same conclusion as she had without her having to point it out to him. ‘She adores you, Ted. She just wants to be part of her big brother’s gang.’

‘Do you think so?’ asked Ted, surprised.

‘She’s been the same ever since uni,’ said Kate, yawning.

Ted had finally eased himself out of his day clothes. He left on his boxers and hunted for a T-shirt to sleep in. It was too cold to think of going commando. He climbed into bed, pecked his wife on the cheek and turned out his bedside light.

‘Night, night,’ he muttered, rolling away from Kate.

Kate sighed. She lay in the darkness looking at the ceiling.

It had been fun at dinner. Yes, she missed the children, but she had to admit it was rather lovely having dinner and just following the genial chat, rather than always keeping one ear alerted for the baby monitor or a call from the baby-sitter to say one of them needed her – that was if she had dared to venture further than her front door. It was wonderful to drink one too many with old friends and know that it didn’t matter if you did have a hangover. And even if Ted was right about Mia and she was a little bit snappier than normal, she was probably premenstrual. Kate knew that Mia was a true friend. Tash and Rich were a pleasure to watch. Kate had never been able to imagine the woman Rich would end up with. He’d never restricted himself to a type. Tash did seem a little young. But youth was lovely. Jayne was behaving herself. Jason was hilarious, and it was pleasant to see Lloyd again. She really didn’t know why she had left it so long. The times the gang had had together in the past were so important, but the memories could only survive if they were nurtured by regular reminiscing and, more importantly, if new experiences were added to the old. If she didn’t have to ski, this would be the perfect holiday.

And if she could persuade her husband to make love to her.

What was wrong with him? When she’d suggested an early night, she did not mean to sleep. How could he think she did? Kate stared at the bulk under the duvet. She knew from her husband’s breathing patterns that he wasn’t really asleep, just pretending to be. Didn’t he fancy her any more? Were her spreading thighs and vast breasts pushing him away? That would be so unfair. Ted wasn’t the man she married either. He was twice the man. And she meant that in a nice way. Yes, he was fatter, greyer and a little bit balding, but he was also the man who had held her hand and rubbed her back through three labours. He was the man who provided for her and their children. She loved him more now than on their wedding day. Didn’t he feel the same?

Kate, emboldened by drink, felt under the bed covers and moved her hand towards her husband’s thigh. She rubbed it for a few moments, then slipped her hand further around towards his penis. Ten years of marriage had taught her that in situations such as these lighting candles and covering his body with a hundred tender butterfly kisses would not get the job done. He was a man. Besides, she’d tried that over a month ago to no avail. Nor had her cooking his favourite dish, buying sexy underwear or asking him into the shower with her lit his fire.

She gently caressed and stroked and tickled, waiting to feel him stiffen. He did not. She increased the vigour of her stroke, even though that was a trick normally reserved until he was erect. Nothing doing. Ted’s chubby penis flopped around in her hand, defying thousands of years of genetic programming. Kate wasn’t a quitter. She gently rolled Ted on to his back so that he lay looking at the ceiling, rather than facing the wall, with his back to her. She kissed him, using tongues and everything. Ted had an open mouth and open eyes, but a closed heart.

‘What’s wrong, Ted?’ murmured Kate. She wiggled southwards, hoping her kisses could manage what her fingers couldn’t. Ted pulled her back towards him. They stared at one another. Kate was confused, scared, hurt and humiliated. Ted was, too, but more so.

‘Nothing,’ he muttered, aware that he was compounding her fears.

Nothing. Kate was amazed. It was unlikely that ‘nothing’ could persuade any man to pass up the chance of a blow job.

‘I’m just very tired.’

Kate rested her head on his chest, and Ted wrapped his arm around her. Cuddling was nice. Despite the disappointment, she was asleep in seconds. Red wine did that to her.

‘I love you, Kate,’ Ted whispered to his sleeping wife.

Monday
31. Not So Good Morning

Rich thought that Tash might be just about to wake up. He’d lain and gazed at her for over an hour now, just looking.

He managed not to touch her. Not to trace his finger across her unsurpassable collarbone. He’d managed not to tenderly kiss those full, pink lips. But only just. It took every iota of his self-restraint. She wasn’t an especially good ‘morning person’, and she might just be a bit irritated at being woken up before seven-thirty on holiday. But, God, he wanted to kiss her. And make love to her. Even though they’d made love most of last night and into the early hours, he wasn’t satiated. He couldn’t imagine ever getting to the point when he felt he’d had enough loving with Tash. He willed her to wake up. If she woke up on her own accord and not because he’d woken her, he would have a better chance of having sex. He smiled with anticipation; she was usually as randy as he was in the morning.

And if they had sex, and it was really spectacular sex, then he might tell her about Jayne. He was vacillating wildly as to whether or not this was the best course of action. Last night, high up in the mountains, under the duvet of black sky and brilliant stars, he had decided it would be unwise to mention Jayne. Later, in the throes of orgasm, when he’d felt so close to Tash that he believed they were melting and meshing into one another, he’d thought it was the only way forward. But it hadn’t been possible. Tash was almost bloke-like in her inability to stay awake and chat after orgasm. She’d instantly rolled over and fallen asleep. Rich had comforted himself that cocooned in that sort of intimacy Jayne couldn’t harm them.

‘Come on, wakey, wakey.’

There was a loud banging on their suite door and, even before Rich could compute that it was someone knocking, the door swung open and in walked Jayne.

‘Warm
pain au chocolat
and a cooked breakfast, surely that can tempt you from even Tash’s charms.’ Jayne stood in the doorway of Tash and Rich’s bedroom. She could smell sex, warmth and affection lingering in the air. Jayne thought she might choke. She snapped on the harsh electric light in an effort to banish their cosiness.

‘Come on, you two are supposed to be the keen boarders. Don’t you want to cut some fresh snow, make some clean tracks? The slopes here are groomed with the same care as is lavished on the greens of expensive golf clubs.’

Tash, rudely awoken, sat upright in bed, seemingly unaware that she was flashing her naked breasts at Jayne. Jayne tried not to look, but couldn’t help but notice that her nipples were pink. Pink! Rich had always said he preferred brown nipples. How could this relationship last if her nipples weren’t even the right colour?

‘Did we order room service?’ Rich asked, as he stubbornly buried his head beneath the bed covers. His tone was indisputably grumpy. He’d been hoping for a blow job, not a bacon buttie. Besides, Jayne’s presence in their suite scuppered both plan A and plan B. He could hardly build the intimacy necessary for a confession, and it was hardly what anyone would call keeping a distance from her either.

‘No, but I wanted to treat you.’

Jayne put the tray on their bed, revealing a tempting stack of pastries, yoghurt, fresh fruit and juice, and two steaming cooked breakfasts. The tray was decorated with confetti and a single red rose.

‘Wow, thanks, Jayne. That’s really, really thoughtful, isn’t it, babe?’ Tash nipped her fiancé under the covers. ‘You are spoiling us,’ she said as she immediately picked up a fork and dived into the tray of goodies.

‘How did you get a key to our room?’ asked Rich, glaring at Jayne, as he reluctantly surfaced from under the covers.

‘I asked at reception. Told them my plan to surprise you and treat you to a romantic breakfast
à deux
, and they were very accommodating. Breakfast was hectic yesterday, wasn’t it? I thought you’d appreciate a bit more privacy. After all, this is your wedding trip.’ Jayne smiled at Rich. She looked a picture of fresh-faced innocence. In that instance, Rich despised her.

‘Look, Richie, the bacon is crispy. Just how you like it,’ said Tash.

‘Do you mind going so I can go to the loo?’ said Rich.

‘I’ll turn my back,’ giggled Jayne, ‘although I’m sure you haven’t anything to show me that I haven’t seen before.’

Rich froze and waited for Tash’s response. But Jayne hadn’t lobbed a hand grenade, only he knew she meant he
literally
didn’t have anything to show her that she hadn’t seen before. Rich sighed, got out of bed and wandered into the bathroom. When he came back, with a towel wrapped around his waist, Jayne was tucking into the breakfast along with Tash. The romantic breakfast
à deux
had clearly turned into
pour trois
. The girls were giggling. Tash’s laugh was low and controlled. Jayne’s was higher and slightly manic. Would she keep quiet or would she spill the beans? What was she playing at? Jayne looked at him and winked conspiratorially.

‘Oh,’ she cried with disappointment, ‘you’ve found a towel. I wanted to check out your wedding tackle, see if you were up to scratch for the lovely Tash.’

Tash grinned and assured, ‘No worries there, girlfriend.’

Rich turned red, but not with embarrassment. He was angry and frustrated. He quickly snatched up his clothes from around the bedroom floor and fled to the bathroom to get dressed. The girls returned to their giggling and whispering. Rich didn’t dare think what they were talking about. Jayne’s actions had now made it impossible to confess. Clearly Jayne was enjoying this farce. She had always liked living on the edge. Indeed, the exciting, wild aspect of her nature had been the very thing that had made her so attractive to him in the early days. Now he was terrified of her. She could ruin everything.

‘Babe?’ Tash tapped on the bathroom door. Rich eased it open a fraction and pulled her inside. He could see Jayne sitting on the bed. She was casually flicking through his paper stack on the bedside table, and then she opened his bedside drawer and began to flip through the contents, her long, red fingernails touching his wallet, his tickets, his phone and his condoms. Why was she doing that? Had she no sense of what was acceptable and what was intrusive?

‘Er, excuse me,’ he called from the bathroom.

‘Darling, I’m horribly nosey. Apologies.’ Jayne smiled, then picked up the copy of
GQ
that was lying on the floor.

‘Can’t you get rid of her?’ he hissed at Tash.

‘Relax, babe. It’s cool. Wasn’t the breakfast a sweet idea?’

‘I haven’t touched it.’

‘Oh.’

‘I’m not hungry. Look, can’t you just get her out of here? We need some privacy.’

‘OK. Jayne and I are going to board together today.’

‘Don’t you want to board with me?’

‘Babe, I’d love to, but I thought you’d agreed to teach Jase and Mia again today.’

Fuck, he had.

‘It’s no problem. I think I might get the lowdown on that prick who ditched her back in London. I think she needs someone to talk to.’

‘Does she?’ Rich looked at his feet. He was expecting to see the blood that had drained from his body in a puddle around his toes.

‘Can you imagine anyone letting a treasure like Jayne slip through their fingers?’ asked Tash.

Rich couldn’t think of a reply.