Stirred with Love (34 page)

   ‘I can’t believe we drank so much last night,’ she said quietly.

Chloe winced as the sudden movement of her head caused a pain to shoot through it. ‘I can’t believe I have a hangover. I’m eighteen – this isn’t supposed to happen.’

Yesterday, after a morning of phone calls to everyone who needed to be informed of Lily’s death, Kate and Chloe spent a reflective afternoon together. Lucy came around at five thirty and Will arrived at seven. Between them they drank lots. Some of them cried, all of them laughed. Lucy finally left at eleven-thirty and Kate slept with Will’s body snuggled around hers. He’d left earlier that morning, promising to return as soon as possible.

 ‘It was good therapy, though.’ Kate clunked the Alka-Seltzer into a glass of water and watched it fizz. Quickly, she knocked it back, banged down the glass and shuddered.

‘I still can’t take it in that the coffee shop is ours.’

‘I’ve often wondered what the advert meant when it read ‘excellent prospects for the right people.’ What prospects are there working in a small coffee shop? There’s hardly a lot of scope for promotion. It was her
plan
that she was referring to.’

‘But she doesn’t really know us that well. What about leaving everything to Irene? Or Alf, even?’

‘Lily wanted her legacy, for want of a better word, to go on, I suppose. I think I admire her for that, too. We know it wasn’t easy for her.’

Chloe smiled. ‘She really did love us like we were her own daughters, didn’t she?’

‘She did. And it means that we don’t have to go our separate ways. I wouldn’t have liked that.’

‘Me neither,’ came back Chloe’s immediate answer.

Kate stood up with a sigh. ‘I need another coffee.’

Chloe stared out onto Church Square, the square that had just become her permanent home. Only now was it beginning to sink in that she was going to be a partner in a very successful coffee shop. Before her very eyes, she could see another shop, and another. When Kate joined her with fresh drinks, she had moved onto franchises and there were at least fifty shops all over England.

‘Do you fancy coming home with me for Christmas, Kate?’ she asked. ‘You’d be more than welcome. I know it’ll be hard for you to keep up, but you can have a sleep in the afternoons before we go out on the razz.’

Kate raised her eyebrows in mock horror before grinning. ‘It’s good of you to ask, but I think I might fancy my chances with a certain man I’m fond of.’

Chloe nodded. She really wanted to share the holiday with Kate, especially after she’d lost Lily, but who was she to spoil her happiness? Kate really deserved it. And she was looking forward to spending some time with her own family. This would be the first Christmas that she and Maddy would feel better about.

‘Don’t suppose I mind so much, then,’ she replied as the music changed to
Wham’s ‘Last Christmas’
. ‘At least one of us needs to let the New Year in with a bang.’ She picked up her drink and raised her cup in a toast. ‘Here’s to you, Lily Mortimer. I know you’re listening, because you’re only in the kitchen.’

Kate smiled. ‘When she says she’s in the next room, it doesn’t mean the kitchen.’

‘It’s the next room at the moment.’

‘You’re absolutely right!’ Kate too picked up her mug and raised it in the air. ‘Here’s to Lily…and to us.

And here’s to The Coffee Stop.’

The End

###

About the Author

Marcie Steele can be found hanging around any good coffee shop, drinking copious amounts of coffee and nibbling on double chocolate muffins. Whilst doing this she will discreetly be people watching or not so discreetly enjoying good gossip with her girlfriends. If you see her, do come and say hello…

Marcie Steele’s second novel, THROUGH WITH MEN, is now available to download.

To keep up to date with Marcie, you can visit her blog at
www.coffee with marcie.blogspot.com

If you have enjoyed reading STIRRED WITH LOVE, please could I ask for a moment of your time to click the like box on my
Amazon page
? It would mean so much for me to know. Thank you so much.

Excerpt from THROUGH WITH MEN, Marcie Steele

CHAPTER ONE

It was just sex, meant as a way to release her tension. A way to make her feel loved, wanted, needed for a few minutes of his time. For that was what it actually boiled down to. A few minutes and it had all been over.

Leah Pellington lifted her head off the pillow, slowly opened one eye and promptly closed it as memories of what she had done
again
came flooding back.

‘Ow! That was my bloody head, you dope,’ she’d cried out as he pushed her against the wall with a thud. His lips were down hard on hers again before she could protest. The passion ignited inside her as his tongue explored her mouth, prodding a little further each time. His hands moved roughly over her breasts and he squeezed, a little too hard, mistaking her cry for a moan.

‘I know you want me,’ he whispered into her ear before kissing her neck. ‘Say you want me.’

‘I want you,’ Leah slurred, pulling his buttocks nearer still and instantly recognising how much he wanted her.

He pulled up her skirt and eased himself inside her. Well, heaved himself inside her, more like. With one hand on the wall to steady them, Leah wrapped her legs around his trunk and tried to match his thrusting as best she could. But the more he moved against her, the more she felt light headed. In a desperate panic, she realised that this had nothing to do with passion. It was as if she was going to be….oh, god. Please, not now.

‘Stop!’ She pushed him away. ‘I’m going to be…’

Leah turned onto her side, pushed her blonde hair away from her face and huddled in the foetal position, trying to rid herself of the painful memory. She prayed it was a dream but opening one eye again revealed her worst nightmare. Her clothes were strewn across the bedroom floor. She had moss stains all over her halter necked top, lager stains all down her skirt where she had missed her mouth once too often and ohmigod! She winced. It hadn’t been a dream.

There was sick all over her shoes.

She felt a tear trickle down her cheek and onto her nose. She couldn’t even manage a quick fumble without something going wrong. And hadn’t she made a New Year’s resolution only ten days ago not to shag Rob Masters again? She’d never be able to look him in the eye next week, never mind kiss him.

She’d known Rob since high school and had lost count of the many times they’d hooked up over the years. Sometimes she’d be single, sometimes he’d be single – there had been times every so often when they’d
both
been single. After every drunken episode she’d be remorseful, be adamant that this would be the last time. But when the slow, lovey-dovey records came on and every other single person had left for home, she and Rob would end up on the dance floor, bodies moulded together with practiced precision, arms entwined around each other, lips locked. It was depressing really, the way they clung to each other.

Last night had been no exception and once the final dance was over, Rob led her from the floor, out of the fire exit and into the alley behind where they got rough and ready up against that wall.

Shag buddies, she’d read somewhere in her daughter’s teenage magazine. Charley Pellington was fifteen and the old head of the family, as she often told her mother when Leah wasn’t keen to act her age of thirty four. According to the magazine, a shag buddy is someone who is there for someone else whenever the need arose – or maybe that should be aroused? Leah couldn’t even bring herself to laugh at that last thought.

All she could remember was the stench of Rob’s breath intermingled with urine from the alley. Mind you, her breath couldn’t have been much better. It had been two fifteen in the early hours of the morning when they’d eventually left the club for a quick grope and poke. She’d lost count of how many lagers and vodka coke combos she’d sunk by that time.

The night had started out fairly well too. Leah had called in at the local pub to meet her friend, Mark, got chatting to some women she knew and headed off with them to a club around eleven. For a couple of hours, she’d strutted her stuff on the dance floor before having one drink too many and crashing down into an almighty low as everyone around her started to pair off. Leah was slouched into a leather settee, wondering whether to call it a night or head back to the bar, when she spotted Rob Masters walking past. She’d got up as quick as her drunken legs would allow and lunged towards him.

‘Hey, Rob.’ She put her arms around his waist and snuggled into his back. ‘Fancy a shag?’

Rob pulled her to his side, keeping an arm around her neck. ‘What’s up Leah, all alone again?’

Leah recognised Rob’s friends as his regular crew and waved, following it with a manic smile. ‘Hi guys’. Mind if I borrow your mate for a while?’

‘Ah, come on Leah, when are you going to give anyone else a look in?’ Pete Drayton cried. ‘Shagger Masters has had his turn over and over. It’s about time you shared it out a little.’

‘What are you insidu – insinua – saying, Drayton?’ Leah tried to slap him but missed completely, nearly landing on the floor as her arm swung out of control. Rob did a gallant job of steadying her, thankfully keeping her upright.

Suggestively she ran her hand down his jeans, stopped at his thigh and made her way back up, up, up, not stopping until she had found her target. She pressed hard. Rob groaned, his friends laughed. Now, lying alone in her bed, Leah felt the shame wash over her as it always did. She knew what Pete Drayton and the rest of the blokes thought of her. And they were right. Slapper Leah, they called her. It wasn’t a secret; they often said it to her face. But she didn’t care. Not until she sobered up and realised she’d done what she’d promised herself she wouldn’t do ever again.

Loneliness. It all boiled down to loneliness. Leah tried to assuage some of the guilt that she felt. Rob used her. Sure, he was always there for her when she needed him. What bloke in their right mind would turn down sex on a plate? But in the back of
her
mind, Leah knew she used him too. And it didn’t feel good, no matter how many times she managed to get laid. It wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted someone who would love her in return for all the love she had to give. But when would she ever find someone like that? She felt past her sell by date already. A lonely divorcee who couldn’t get a decent man whatever she tried. And if she ever did manage to find anyone half decent, by that time she’d be too old to enjoy him.

She moved her legs up further towards her chest. It was then that she felt the sticky patch at the top of her thigh. Oh, god, they must have had sex
after
she’d thrown up. Humiliation made her cheeks burn as she realised that Rob must have been as drunk as she was if they’d carried on regardless. Right now she knew she’d never be able to look him in the eye again but right now she didn’t care about that.

Right now she hated herself.

Sam Wheldon’s body stiffened as a hand moved over her thigh and up towards her breast. His fingers were rough, not to the touch but to the feel. Russ’s hands had become coarser over the years he’d worked away during the week as a brickie. Sighing inwardly, she turned towards her husband and he moved on top of her. A quick peck on the cheek and he was inside her, not even bothering to find out if she was ready. He began to hump away but Sam’s mind had already switched off.

All she could think of was Dan Wilshaw. The man had made her knees quiver with one smile. And when he’d stopped at the stall to talk to her on Friday morning, she’d been so tongue tied she’d had to resort to a nod, feeling the mortification as her cheeks reddened. Dan noticed too and had flirted with her, making her blush even more.

She thought back to when she had first seen him. Sam sold fruit and veg at the local indoor market. She’d inherited the business when her dad died when she was eighteen. Dan had called at one of the stalls opposite hers and bought a mobile phone. Surreptitiously, Sam watched him from a distance. He caught her looking a couple of times but she’d been quick to hide behind her own customers. Moments later, he walked across to her stall and bought an apple. Sam was sure it’d had been meant as a symbol. The forbidden fruit; he obviously knew she was married. Well, that and the fact she was wearing a wedding ring.

Her mind came back to the task in hand as Russ got into his stride and she looked up at him. Russ Wheldon was a good looking bloke. In his day, he’d been the proverbial tall, dark and handsome but age had taken away his hair and added a few weather worn lines. Even so, he kept himself fit, not looking a day over twenty eight when in reality he was pushing thirty six.

Russ had been the school heart throb. Sam had thought he was cool from the minute she’d noticed him hanging around with her friend Leah’s brother, Ryan. One night, the two of them had sneaked into the local pub all eyeliner and lip gloss to make them look eighteen when they’d barely reached sweet sixteen and Sam got chatting to him. She’d known him for as long as she could remember, but hadn’t really spoken to him until then. Now, she couldn’t remember a time when Russ Wheldon hadn’t been around.

Russ wasn’t looking at her now. His head was turned slightly to the side, his eyes closed. Sam wondered if he was imagining she was someone else too.

She still had her t-shirt on. She grimaced, closing her eyes as well. Where was the fun in that? Now if she was with Dan Wilshaw, she would be completely naked. He would have sat her up on his lap and lifted the t-shirt up and off her, throwing it across the room where it would land on the carpet in a heap. Sam imagined him gazing at her, mesmerising her, his fingers moving over her, around her, inside her. A moan escaped her lips. Holding her breath, she opened an eye but Russ was too engrossed in pleasuring himself to notice.

She closed her eye and relaxed back into her fantasy. Dan Wilshaw was taking his time with her. She imagined his hands – no cracks and rough skin on them – running up and down the length of her body, stopping at the point of desire. His tongue flitted over her chest and moved slowly, achingly slowly, down.