Take a Chance on Me (12 page)

Ten women, one of them celebrating her thirtieth birthday. Ten metallic pink helium balloons. Ten sparkly fluorescent pink cowboy hats. The question was, however, was she going to manage to spot them in the crowds?

Oh look, fancy that, there they were! As she reached the bottom of Park Street in Bristol’s downtown, Cleo slowed down and pulled up outside the Hippodrome. When you were at the wheel of a bright pink stretched limo, other people, in turn, tended to take notice. All around, they were swiveling to stare at the car. Some might call it tacky, but it was just a bit of fun. If it was what the customers wanted—and were paying good money to be driven around in—where was the harm in that?

Well, apart from the damage it threatened to do to the driver’s eardrums.

Bracing herself, Cleo climbed out of the car and the stiletto-heeled, Stetson-wearing, balloon-toting party advanced in a great high-pitched squealing pack. Age-wise, they sounded more thirteen than thirty, but that was the effect a Barbie-pink stretched Chrysler 300C tended to have.

‘Good evening ladies.’ She opened the doors and allowed them to pile in. ‘All set to enjoy yourselves?’

‘Yayyyy!’

‘Yee-haaaaa!’

‘Oh my God, will you look at this!’

Shrieks of excitement filled the inside of the limo as they discovered the glittery indigo carpeting, the strobes and multicolored lighting ropes, the TVs and DVD players. They swarmed over the seats like magpies, exclaiming over the stars on the ceiling, the ice buckets, the box of DVDs.

‘
Pretty Woman
!’ The birthday girl gave a yelp of delight, snatching the disc out of the case and shoving it into the DVD player.

Honestly, why did they even bother offering a choice? It was
Pretty Woman
every time. If Cleo could choose this film as her specialist subject, she’d win
Mastermind
.

‘Bloody hell, I don’t believe it.’ The next moment, one of the Stetsons was tipped back and the woman wearing it began to laugh. ‘It’s you, isn’t it? Misa!’

Oh please. Her heart plummeting, Cleo met the heavily made-up gaze of the woman she hadn’t noticed until now.

Many, many layers of mascara. Burnished gold eye shadow, perfectly plucked eyebrows, beige lipstick, and darker lipliner. Bright blond swept-up hair, French-manicured nails, clinging gold dress, and strappy sandals.

New hairstyle, same old knowing, better-than-you smile.

And to think that it had been a toss-up which of them would take this job tonight. Shelley had said, ‘Your call. Birthday bash in Bristol or a bachelorette party in Weston?’

So purely because she’d done a bachelorette party last week and it was always good to ring the changes, Cleo had said, ‘OK, I’ll do the birthday bash.’

If she’d gone for the other one, this unhappy encounter could have been avoided.

The birthday girl, whose name was Jen, was looking interested. ‘What’s this, then? You two know each other?’

‘From years back.’ Mandy Ellison smirked. ‘We were at school together.’

And we hated each other.

‘Misa, that’s an unusual name! Is it Spanish?’

‘That’s just what we used to call her,’ said Mandy. Raising her hand and mimicking fifteen-year-old Cleo, she chirped eagerly, ‘Me, Sir! Me, Sir!’

The others fell about laughing.
Be professional, be professional, don’t react
.

‘Do you remember that?’ Mandy was in her element. ‘You were such a nerd! We used to make fun of you all the time.’

Cleo smiled distantly, as if she could barely recall those days. ‘Everyone comfortable? Excellent. Could you all fasten your seatbelts please?’

‘And after that, you ended up as a driver. So a fat lot of good all that studying did you!’

OK, she’d stopped being nerdy at school practically as a direct result of the merciless teasing. Plus, was there anything
wrong
with being a chauffeur? Cleo said politely, ‘Are we ready to go now, ladies?’

The others let out a cheer and yelled, ‘Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyy!!!!’

The point of hiring a stretch limo for the evening was so you could impress as many of your friends and acquaintances as humanly possible. This meant driving around Bristol as
noisily
as possible, stopping off at endless pubs and wine bars, showing everyone what you’d arrived in, then knocking back a quick round of drinks before getting back into the car and setting off to the next on the list.

They were a very shrieky crowd and the decibel level rose with each port of call. By the fifth, everyone was on an unstoppable roll.

‘So, Misa. Still not married then?’ Sitting behind Cleo, Mandy opened the sliding window that separated them.

‘No. And my name’s Cleo.’

‘Clee-oh.’ Mandy emphasized the word to humor her. ‘No kids? No bloke?’ She waited until Cleo briefly shook her head. ‘God, aren’t you worried about getting left on the shelf? Me and Gary have been married for eight years now. Shania’s five and Brad’s three. Gary earns shedloads of money, so I don’t have to work. And you should see our house. Five bed detached in Bradley Stoke. We’ve got matching BMWs with personalized plates. Pretty good, eh?’

‘Very good.” They were heading up Whiteladies Road, making for Henry Africa’s bar. Smiling to herself, Cleo realized how ridiculous Mandy was making herself sound with her need to boast, and how inevitably her list of achievements would have to include personalized plates.

‘Yeah, we’re really happy. So where are you living now?’

‘Channings Hill.’

‘Oh God! Noooo!
Still
?’ Mandy cackled with incredulous laughter. ‘Have you never thought of getting a life?’

Why,
why
hadn’t she chosen the bachelorette party in Weston?

‘Clearly not,’ said Cleo. ‘I like living there.’ And she
usually
liked her job. ‘OK, here we are, Henry Africa’s.’

By midnight, they’d visited Clifton Village, Park Street, Berkeley Square, and the Waterfront, before returning to busy, bar-strewn Whiteladies Road. This was the last stop of the evening and Cleo was counting down the minutes. The other members of the party had been fine, but Mandy Ellison had carried on bragging and making digs at every opportunity.

Except she wasn’t Mandy Ellison any more, was she? She was Mandy Ross now, married to Perfect Gary, mother to two perfect angels, living the perfect life…

Unlike poor old Unloved Spinster Cleo Quinn, yet to acquire any of the above.

Waiting behind the wheel of the limo, Cleo watched as a boisterous group of staggering studenty types attempted to gain entrance to Callaghan’s across the road, where Jen and the others were currently ensconced. The security guys on the door sent the students packing. Then she did a double take as a couple stumbled out, arms wrapped around each other. Clearly well away, their intentions were plain. The man pushed the girl up against the wall, his hands roaming over her body and his mouth fastening on hers.

The girl enthusiastically kissing him back was Mandy.

Hee! Cleo stared at the pair of them, enthralled. They had their tongues down each other’s throats and were writhing together as enthusiastically as a pair of teenagers. Moments later, as if realizing they might be spotted, Mandy pulled away and, with the logic of only the completely plastered, drew him five yards along the road into a shop doorway.

And proceeded to grope her conquest with all the subtlety of an army medic examining a squaddie. Prompting him, in return, to plunge his hand down the back of her gold dress and unfasten her bra.

Ooh dear, so much for Mandy’s so-called perfect marriage.

Youch, wasn’t Mandy uncomfortable in that teeny thong?

And here came the rest of the party now, looking for her. As they spilled out of the bar, one of the students who’d been refused admittance made a playful grab for Jen’s Stetson. Jen chased after him, clattering along the pavement in her high heels. Spotting the writhing couple in the shop doorway, she skittered to a halt and let out an ear-splitting shriek.

Cleo watched as Mandy jumped guiltily and, in her Tequila’d-up state, attempted to conceal the identity of her companion by shoving his head against her chest. From here, it looked as if he was having a coughing fit. Maybe he was suffocating in her cleavage. Then Mandy leapt back in horror, shoving him away from her so hard he went crashing back against the shop door. She was screaming, repulsed, staggering all over the pavement with her arms outstretched and her fingers like claws.

Oh dear God, he’d only gone and thrown up on her.

Equally appalled, the rest of the party floundered. The next moment, spotting the limo across the street and panicking like a family of ducklings in need of their mum, they made a beeline for it.

Well, they were all steaming drunk, so it was a wobbly, zigzagging kind of beeline. With Mandy, still shrieking, bringing up the rear.

Cleo was out of the limo in a flash. Up close, the front of the gold dress was liberally decorated.

‘Let me in, let me in!’ Mandy was shuddering with revulsion. ‘That bastard… look what he’s
done
.’

‘You can’t get into the car like that.’ Shaking her head, Cleo said, ‘No way.’

‘You have to let me in!’

‘Sorry, I don’t.’

‘So how else am I supposed to get home?’

One of the other girls said slurrily, ‘How ’bout a taxi?’

Jen wrinkled her nose. ‘No taxi’s going to take her.’

‘FOR FUCK’S SAKE,’ Mandy bellowed. ‘JUST GET ME HOME!’

‘She could phone Gary, ashk him t’come and pick her up.’

‘Yeah,’ Mandy snorted, ‘like he’d do that.’ She turned to Cleo, her face the picture of misery. ‘Please, OK? Let me in.’

‘Only if you take the dress off.’

‘What?’

‘If you take it off carefully,’ said Cleo, ‘and don’t get any of the sick on you, I’ll let you into the car.’

Swaying, Mandy frowned. ‘So how would the dress get home?’

‘It wouldn’t. You’d put it in that litter bin over there.’

‘Are you having a laugh? This thing cost three hundred quid!’

‘Fine.’ Cleo shrugged. ‘Keep it on then. But you’ll have to walk home.’

Across the road, the man who’d caused all the trouble staggered off up a side street. Mandy, mascara-smeared and sobering up fast, heaved a sigh of frustration and hissed through gritted teeth, ‘Go on then, someone undo me.’

Gingerly, Jen stepped up and unfastened the zip at the back. The gold dress slid off Mandy’s shoulders and fell to the ground around her feet. Mandy let out a howl as she realized her bra was undone and her boobs were swinging free.

Passers-by jeered and whistled at the sight of her shivering in her high heels and flowery thong. Cleo, delighted to spot a bit of cellulite too—thank you, God!—opened the door of the limo and said cheerily, ‘OK, everyone in. Time to go home!’

‘Gary’s going to go mental,’ Mandy whined. ‘He bought me that dress for Christmas.’

‘Just tell him it wasn’t your fault.’ Jen gave her a disapproving look. ‘You didn’t know when you stuck your tongue down that bloke’s throat that it was going to make him puke.’

Mandy’s eyes narrowed. ‘OK, OK. No need for Gary to hear about any of that.’

Cleo’s conscience finally got the better of her. Sometimes, just sometimes, she really wished she didn’t have one. With a sigh, she went round to the back of the car and opened the trunk. Prepared for all eventualities—well, almost all—she kept a supply of heavy duty black bin bags in the side-pocket. Resignedly, she handed one to Mandy and pointed to the bin. ‘Go on then, get it out of there and put it in this.’

‘Thanks,’ muttered Mandy when the deed had been done and the tightly knotted bin bag had been stowed in the boot.

Was this a moral victory? Cleo shrugged and said, ‘I shouldn’t really be doing this. It’s against company policy.’ She paused then added with an innocent smile, ‘But what else are old school friends for?’

‘Abbie, we need to start thinking about the Easter promotions. Come on up to my office and let’s have a chat about it.’

Abbie brushed flecks of dry, crumbly compost off her hands and followed Des upstairs. The last thing they needed was a repeat of last year’s debacle when the Easter Egg hunt had been scuppered by blazing sun. All the chocolate eggs had turned to puddles of goo and the garden center had reverberated to the sound of wailing, inconsolable children.

‘OK, I’ve had a couple of ideas,’ she said as Des closed the door behind him. ‘It might not be sunny. But if it is, how about those mini-eggs in crispy shells? Or we could make little straw nests in bowls, then put them into bigger bowls filled with ice cubes—’

‘Fine, we’ll do that.’

‘
Or
, I thought we could hide tokens of some kind, and when they find the tokens they can come inside and exchange them for the real Easter Eggs—’

‘Look, I didn’t bring you up here to talk about Easter.’ Des spoke urgently, as if he’d just pulled the pin out of a grenade set to detonate in ten seconds. ‘I’ve tried to forget what happened, OK? Kissing you like that… being with you… I’ve tried my best, I really have, but it won’t go away. Everything’s changed. I can’t stop thinking about you.’

Abbie’s heart began to thud. ‘Des, no, don’t say that.’ Rapidly she shook her head. ‘You don’t mean it.’

‘I do.’

‘No, no, I’m
married
.’

‘I know.’ His shoulders slumped. ‘And I wish you weren’t.’

‘But I’m happy with Tom.’ She couldn’t believe he was doing this.

‘I don’t want to feel this way,’ said Des. ‘I just can’t help it.’

‘Well you’re going to have to! Des, I’m sorry, but this is my life we’re talking about!’

He rubbed the side of his face, visibly torn. ‘It’s my life too.’

‘But nothing’s going to happen.’

‘Just give me a chance,’ Des pleaded.

‘No,’ Abbie backed towards the door, ‘and you promised you wouldn’t do this. Tom means everything in the world to—’

The phone rang on the desk and they both jumped. For a moment they stared at each other. In desperation Abbie blurted out, ‘Just stop this now, Des, OK? I mean it. Pull yourself together and leave me alone. Because this is just… stupid!’

Heart pounding, she let herself out of the office and left Des to answer the phone. This was a nightmare threatening to get out of control and it terrified her. She’d trusted him to keep their secret… but what if she shouldn’t? And how could she make him understand how badly she needed him to?

How was it that her quiet, settled, uneventful life had come to this?

***

‘Wow!’ Hurrying into the pub on Saturday lunchtime and screeching to a halt when she saw Ash, Cleo pointed at the table in front of him. ‘You’re eating!’

‘I don’t know how you do it,’ Ash marveled. ‘It’s like a gift, some kind of spooky sixth sense. You should be a psychic detective. Oi, give me that back.’

Cleo dug his fork into the lasagna and sampled a mouthful to see if it tasted as good as it smelled. Her eyes widened. ‘Mmm… mmmmm!’

‘Oh no you don’t.’ He snatched the fork back before she could steal any more. ‘Get your own. Actually, have the fish pie, then I can see what that’s like.’

‘Fish pie? I
love
fish pie!’ Whirling round, Cleo saw that a menu had been chalked up on the blackboard that had remained menu-less for the last six weeks, ever since Tony-the-temperamental-chef had broken up with his boyfriend and stropped off in a huff to work in a restaurant in Malaga. In all honesty, Tony’s cooking hadn’t been that great but he was so hot tempered, Frank had never been able to pick up the courage to tell him.

Then Cleo’s mouth dropped open as the new chef emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray of food.

Fia Newman, wearing a blue and white striped apron and with her hair tied back in a high plait, made her way over to one of the other tables. As Cleo stared in disbelief, she greeted the customers and deftly unloaded the plates. Finally, spotting Cleo, she waved and came over.

Just as if she belonged here.

‘Hi! What about this, then?’ Fia’s amber eyes danced. ‘Surprised to see me?’

Cleo had spent the last four days and nights chauffeuring a visiting American businessman around the country. She felt as if she’d been away for four months. ‘Are you the new chef?’

‘Morse,’ murmured Ash. ‘Marple. Holmes. You’re up there with all the greats.’

‘Well, I really wanted to be the resident karaoke queen, but Frank said no to that. So I thought I’d give this a go instead!’

‘But… how…?’ When Fia had called to say goodbye last week, Cleo hadn’t expected to see her again
ever
.

‘I know! It’s like fate, isn’t it? That night I stayed at Johnny’s house, I was saying how crazy it was that this place didn’t serve food, and he told me what had happened with the chap who used to work here, Mad Tony. I didn’t think any more of it, but then I went home the next day and had my big showdown with Will. That was when I realized I’d have to find somewhere else to live, because there was no way he’d move out of his precious house.’ Fia pulled a face. ‘And I was definitely going to have to find a new job, because I was working for Will’s mother, and as far as Vivien’s concerned, her boy can do no wrong. If he had an affair, I must have driven him to it.’

‘God…’

‘Oh, I never liked her anyway. Walking out of that fancy china shop of hers was a joy. Now I’ll never have to listen to the old witch banging on about her perfect son again. So then I thought about this place,’ Fia said cheerfully. ‘And I knew everyone was friendly, so I gave Frank a call. Well, he seemed keen on the idea, so long as I really could cook. So I came over with some of my food. He liked it, I liked the flat upstairs, and bingo, here I am!’

‘Well, gosh, that’s… great.’ Mixed emotions didn’t begin to describe how Cleo was feeling. Logically she knew she wasn’t the one responsible for wrecking Fia’s marriage, but she’d been inadvertently involved and the guilt was still there.

‘How’s that lasagna?’ Fia looked over at Ash.

Ash nodded, chewed, swallowed. At last he said scintillatingly, ‘Um… nice.’

‘Good-good.’ She turned to Cleo. ‘How about you? Can I get you anything?’

‘I’ll have the fish pie.’

Fia gave a nod of satisfaction. ‘You’ll love it.’

Twenty minutes later, Cleo called her back over. She said, ‘You know what? You’re right, I do love it.’

Not being entirely thrilled about having Will’s wife living here was one thing, but she cooked like an angel.

‘I don’t do fancy food.’ Fia looked pleased. ‘Just the basics. But they’re the
best
basics.’

‘Which is just what we need. This is amazing.’ The fish pie was indeed sensational, made with cream and wine, and topped with a thick layer of grilled cheese. ‘Mad Tony was forever trying out new stuff that didn’t work. Chicken with marmalade sauce, curried peas and mango, that kind of thing. And last summer he was serving everything with rose petals and tarragon.’ Cleo looked over at Ash. ‘Remember that?’

‘Uh… yes.’

Oh for heaven’s sake. As soon as Fia had disappeared back into the kitchen, Cleo grinned and said, ‘You fancy her, don’t you.’

‘No.’

She gave him a gleeful prod. ‘You do! You’ve gone all stupid again!’

Ash put down his drink and heaved a sigh. ‘OK, now listen to me. If you were fourteen years old, you might think it’d be funny to blurt it out in front of everyone. But you’re
not
fourteen, so I’m sure you can understand that it wouldn’t be funny for me. It would be embarrassing all round. What’s more, I’d never forgive you. So, seeing as you’re supposed to be my friend, I’d really appreciate it if you’d keep this to yourself and just let me get it out of my system in my own time.’

‘You’re no fun.’ Cleo pulled a face.

‘But I mean it.’ She could tell he did by the look in his eyes. ‘This isn’t just someone I’ve met at a party. She’s living here now, which means I’m going to be seeing her practically every day.’ Ash leaned further across the table. ‘And if you tell her, it’ll make it unbearable. So you need to keep that’—he made a zipping gesture in front of Cleo’s mouth—‘shut. Or we won’t be friends anymore. And I will be your vengeful neighbor from hell, I promise.’

Crikey, he did mean it. ‘OK, I won’t say anything. Cross my heart. How long, d’you think, before you get over it?’

‘Oh, a couple of hours.’ Exasperated, Ash said, ‘How the bloody hell do I know? I just wish it wouldn’t happen; it’s a complete pain. Apart from anything else, she’s only just left her husband.’ He shook his head. ‘So it’s going to be months before she’s even ready to look at another man.’

Which just went to show how naïve Ash could be. The very next moment, as if to prove it, Johnny came into the pub and Fia was out of the kitchen in a flash.

‘Hi, I was wondering when you’d be in!’ Her whole face was lit up, her body language unambiguous. ‘It’s all going
really
well!’

Fia clearly subscribed to the theory that the best way to get over one man was to meet another. Preferably in less time than some people took to Hoover their carpets. Eagerly she said, ‘What are you going to have?’

‘Sorry, busy, can’t stop.’ Holding up a carrier bag, Johnny offered it to one of the lads standing at the bar. ‘Dave, you left your brushes behind—I found them in the sink in the utility room. Thanks for finishing up last night. Great job.’ Turning, he grinned and said, ‘Cleo, hi! I tell you, it’s going to be weird not having that lot around anymore. I came downstairs this morning and made six mugs of tea before remembering I was on my own.’

He hadn’t called her Misa. It was like a miracle from heaven. To show that she could be civil too, Cleo said, ‘So the house is all done now, is it? How’s it looking?’

‘You wouldn’t believe the difference. Come on over if you want. See for yourself.’

‘Oh, um…’ Now she didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t been expecting an invitation. Next to him, Fia was also looking taken aback.

‘I’ll show you what I’m working on too,’ Johnny added. ‘For Cornelia.’

OK, now that was something she’d definitely like to see. Not that Johnny would ever know this, but she’d been Googling him on the quiet and had—even more secretly—fallen in love with his work. Some of the larger than life sculptures were breathtaking.

‘One of her horses? I’d love to.’ Aware of Fia’s gaze on her, Cleo said, ‘Great.’

His grin broadened. ‘Come round when you’ve finished your lunch. I’ll be the one wrestling with a mile of wire.’

All of a sudden the mental picture this conjured up seemed quite exciting. Oo-er, what was
that
about? Was this how it felt to fall under Johnny LaVenture’s spell? Returning to the real world, Cleo got a mental grip. Like tipping over the edge from dabbling to addiction, from social drinking to alcoholism, the trick lay in being aware, realizing what could happen and stepping back onto safe ground before it was too late. Johnny was an inveterate charmer who loved to flirt for his own amusement. Only a fool would believe he meant it.

Or a Fia.

‘Fine, yeah, maybe later.’ Cleo waved her fork and went back to her meal. Johnny said his goodbyes to Dave and the boys at the bar and moved towards the door.

Fia, her face falling, called after him, ‘Will you be in this evening?’

‘Who knows? Never say never.’

When he’d gone and Fia had once again vanished into the kitchen, Ash echoed, ‘Fine, yeah, maybe later,’ mimicking Cleo’s casual tone.

‘Behave yourself.’ Having jabbed the back of his hand, Cleo wiped her fork on a napkin. ‘Would you rather Fia went over there again instead?’

‘So that’s what you’re doing is it? Selflessly offering yourself in her place, like some kind of noble sacrifice? Don’t take her, take me.’ Ash shook his head. ‘I had no idea you were so brave, so heroic.’

‘And I had no idea you were such a philistine. He’s an artist. I’d love to watch him at work.’

‘Why? You’ve never wanted to watch
me
work.’

‘He’s creative!’

‘Bloody hell, so am I! I create a radio show,’ Ash retorted. ‘Which is
also
art and is a damn sight more difficult than bending bits of wire in this direction and that direction. Any idiot could do that.’

Cleo smiled. ‘Are you jealous?’

‘Maybe. Just a bit. OK, of course I’m bloody jealous.’ He jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen. ‘She’s crazy about him. It’s so obvious.’

Bless. Cleo’s heart went out to Ash. ‘I know, but I’m going to talk to him about that, tell him not to get involved.’

Ash nodded slowly, acknowledging that this made sense. ‘Well, be careful. He probably works with his shirt off.’

OK, delete that thought before it could take hold. Chasing the last fat prawn around her plate, Cleo shrugged and said, ‘Don’t we all?’