The Long Weekend (14 page)

‘Thanks,’ she said, and walked out into the reception area with a welcoming smile.

‘Trevor. Monique.’ She held out her hand to be shaken, but Trevor wasn’t having any formality. He grabbed her in a big bear hug.

‘Claire. Babe. I can’t tell you how excited we are. And you’ve organised the weather for us.’

‘Well, we try to please,’ gasped Claire, wriggling out from his grasp and going to air-kiss Monique. ‘Has Angelica arranged for your luggage to be brought in?’

‘Ben’s just bringing it,’ Angelica told her.

Claire turned to see Ben struggling in with an enormous pair of matching suitcases.

Trevor held out his key fob and a twenty-pound note. ‘Here you go, mate. You can park it for me. It’s insured for anyone. And don’t forget to put the roof up.’

Ben looked at the keys in horror. ‘Um . . . actually, I can’t drive. I’m only sixteen.’

‘I’ll do it.’ Angelica stepped forward and held out her hand.

‘Do I trust a woman with my motor? It’s top of the range, you know.’ Trevor twinkled at her, dangling the keys just out of reach.

Angelica’s eyes widened slightly.

Monique smiled fondly. ‘He doesn’t mean it, love. It’s just his way.’

‘Of course I don’t. My Monique’s a better driver than I am any day of the week. She’s got patience.’

Trevor dropped the keys into Angelica’s outstretched palm just as Luca came through the bar with a wide smile.

‘Trevor! Monique.’

In the flurry of overexcited greetings, hand-shaking and kissing, Angelica slipped away unnoticed.

The car was parked on the pavement, a Mercedes SL convertible in gleaming cherry red that made her mouth water. She opened the driver’s door and slid inside. It smelled delicious, of leather and newness, even if the seatbelt did reek of Trevor’s aftershave. She nestled into the butterscotch hide with glee, enjoying the luxurious way it moulded itself around her bottom, then ran her hand over the sleek dashboard, admiring the layout, the high-tech state-of-the-art instruments, the steering wheel.

She put the keys into the ignition and looked around her for a moment, trying to recall Jeff’s instructions.

What she hadn’t told Trevor Parfitt was that she hadn’t actually passed her driving test. She’d had a few lessons, and been out for some practice with Jeff in his van. He was incredibly patient with her, bless him. There was no wincing or hysteria, just a measured calmness combined with meticulous instruction. He had been a driving instructor in a former life, and had told her she was a very competent driver, a natural, so Angelica felt quite confident that she could handle the Merc.

Moments later, the engine was purring. She flicked the indicator, slid the car into first and pulled away from the pavement, driving carefully up the high street towards the car park, enjoying the envious and admiring glances of passers-by. She was oozing with excitement, the thrill of it all. The glamour, the power, the naughtiness. She pressed the play button on the sound system and Elton John burst out – it wouldn’t have been her choice, but it didn’t matter. The music swirled round her, the bass reverberating through her body.

She suppressed the urge to scream with excitement. She was smiling from ear to ear. The entrance to the car park appeared on her right. She started to slow down, disappointed that her adventure was going to come to such an abrupt end, then met the eye of a man who was giving her a look of pure envy.

What the hell? she thought. When was she going to get the chance to sit at the wheel of a car like this again? She was going to take it for a spin. She’d say she had to wait ages for a parking space. She pulled away smoothly, and made her way up the hill and out of the town.

She could drive for ever like this. Leave Pennfleet behind. How long would it be before they caught up with her? The road stretched out invitingly in front of her, hugging the coast. She put her foot down and felt the power of the car surge beneath her.

This was it. This was the life she longed for. Freedom. Luxury. Fast cars.

She felt her hair stream out behind her and let out a whoop of pure joy. She knew she was being irresponsible, but she didn’t care. She was responsible every other day of her life.

She came to a halt on the brow of a hill, pulling over into a lay-by that looked out over the sea. A white speedboat was cutting through the waves in the far distance. Angelica could imagine the exhilaration the passengers were feeling, like the exhilaration she’d just felt. Then her heart sank. Who was she trying to kid? A jet-set lifestyle was totally out of reach. She had to accept it. She stroked the tan leather of the steering wheel, wondering about the Parfitts, and where they had got their money, and whether Monique had married Trevor because of it. It was the obvious route to wealth and luxury for an attractive woman, she thought.

She flipped the driver’s mirror down. She had the wherewithal to attract a man like Trevor, she knew she did. She’d seen men look at her hungrily. She held her hair up behind her head, narrowed her eyes, glimpsing herself sideways through almost closed lashes, pouting. How hard could it be?

Yet in her heart of hearts she knew it wasn’t a route she wanted to take. Come the day, she would marry for love, she thought, and a shadowy image of Luca hovered on the edge of her consciousness. She batted it away, reminding herself that she was lucky: she lived in a town most people would give their eye teeth to live in; she had a job she loved, working with people she admired . . .

A solitary cloud scudded in front of the sun, and she shivered. She needed to get back before anyone wondered where she was. She struggled to turn the car around, flustered and confused now that the adrenalin was gone. Back to reality, she thought, and for a moment she wished she hadn’t allowed herself to flirt with something that was so out of reach. She turned the music down and drove the car back down the hill, soberly, sombrely, suddenly afraid that she was going to prang it or cock up the parking. Her heart rate subsided as she drove back in through the familiar outskirts of the town, and she couldn’t help hoping that her mother would catch a glimpse of her gliding past.

Maybe one day, she thought. Maybe one day.

Laura had set her phone alarm in anticipation – she was worried they would both fall asleep and wake up in Penzance – and it burbled at her five minutes outside Pennfleet. She woke to find her head on Dan’s shoulder. He smiled down at her, and she sat up, confused, not quite remembering where they were, or why. Then she leapt up and starting pulling down her luggage.

‘Hey,’ said Dan. ‘Calm down. We’re not even at the station yet.’

‘I know,’ said Laura, already edging her way towards the carriage doors. ‘I know I’m a neurotic freak, but that’s just the way I am.’

Dan pulled his rucksack down and followed her. As they stood by the doors, waiting for the train to slow, he wrapped his arms around her. Laura leant back into him, grateful that he had come with her. She would have hated arriving in a strange place on her own.

The train ground to a halt and Dan opened the door on to the platform. The station at Pennfleet was entirely unprepossessing. Grey, rundown, with iron railings and overgrown grass sprouting through the Tarmac, a million miles from the jolly seaside scene they’d been expecting.

They went to find a taxi. There were two on the rank, one driver idly chatting to the other through the window in the afternoon sun, and they stood for a moment waiting for them to finish, until Dan ran out of patience and emitted a pointed whistle.

‘The Townhouse by the Sea, please,’ Laura told the driver.

‘Ooh, posh,’ he remarked, and she wondered if he was going to surreptitiously jack up his meter, thinking they could afford to pay over the odds. She didn’t usually indulge in expensive boutique hotels, but the whole prospect of the weekend was so scary, so intimidating, that she wanted to be in comfortable surroundings, and the Townhouse had looked so perfect. She didn’t want them to be stuck in some dreary bed and breakfast with orange-and-brown carpets and a bed you didn’t want to get into in case the sheets weren’t fresh.

The taxi spun out of the car park. As she settled back in her seat, Laura thought about how they could be making their way up to Camden this evening with their friends, for cocktails in the last of the sun and then clubbing, their usual Friday-night ritual, finishing with delicious kebabs and fiery harissa on the way home. This whole trip was going to be a waste of time and money.

‘You ready?’ asked the driver as they approached a bend. ‘This is the view of a lifetime. You wait.’

Dan and Laura both sat up expectantly as they rounded the corner. Then Laura gasped in delight, for there in front of them was an expanse of glittering sea, and the little town of Pennfleet perched on the harbourside, nonchalant with perfection.

‘Wow,’ said Dan.

The driver grinned.

‘Never fails to get a reaction,’ he replied. ‘You’d have to be dead not to think that was something special.’

‘Haven’t you seen it already?’

‘Loads of times. But it’s my favourite.’

Colin looked down at the DVD Chelsey had handed him.
Tangled
. His heart creaked just a little bit.

He and Karen had argued earlier about whether Chelsey should join them for dinner. Colin was all for it. He’d always enjoyed having his children at the dinner table; from an early age he and Alison had let them eat with them in restaurants. He thought it taught them how to behave properly, and what was the point of having them if you couldn’t make the most of their company? Karen, however, had other ideas.

‘You don’t want to have dinner with the boring grownups, do you, Chels?’

Colin could see Chelsey was used to being fed lines like this, and that she was programmed how to answer.

‘No – I’ll be fine here.’

‘She can have room service. And she’s got the telly.’

Colin suspected it was better not to rock the boat. And in a way, Karen was right. They definitely needed to have a chat without Chelsey around. He had a few things to say, for a start. But to salve his conscience he had brought her down to the newsagent to choose a DVD to watch.

‘Why don’t you have two?’ he suggested now.

She hesitated. ‘Really?’

‘Of course.’

She studied the rows of DVDs again. Colin thought that if it was Michelle, he would buy her a bag of sweets to go with it, but the last thing Chelsey needed was another input of calories. What should he do? There was a bowl of fresh fruit in the hotel room, but it would seem miserly to suggest that. He wanted to spoil her this weekend. He believed wholeheartedly in spoiling children.

He sighed and picked up a bag of Minstrels. One more packet wasn’t going to make a difference at this stage. He’d talk to Karen about Chelsey’s eating habits over dinner. Though he suspected his entreaties would fall on deaf ears.

Chelsey had chosen another DVD and proffered it awkwardly. He thought about the kids’ playroom at home, the huge wide-screen TV and the rows and rows of DVDs, almost more than there were on display here. The room was empty for most of the year now, eerily silent. He missed them both so much. He knew Alison did too.

He held up the Minstrels.

‘Do you like these? They’re my favourite.’

Chelsey nodded, and he walked over to the till. He looked at the cigarettes behind the counter, and felt an urge that he hadn’t felt since he’d given up fifteen years ago. It was Karen smoking around him that had given him the craving. He wasn’t going to succumb. Instead, he picked up a packet of Orbit.

‘Anything else you want?’ he asked Chelsey, and she shook her head.

He felt his heart melt a little bit more. Didn’t she realise he would give her anything she wanted? Anything.

Angelica returned from her joyride looking as if butter wouldn’t melt. She put the keys of the Mercedes in the reception drawer, ready to return to the Parfitts, and turned to smile at the young couple who were about to check in.

She felt a tug at her heart. The girl wasn’t much older than she was, and they seemed so sweet, the pair of them. The boyfriend was holding a flowery overnight bag without a hint of embarrassment, as well as his own rucksack, and had his other arm around the girl’s shoulders.

‘We’re booked in for the weekend,’ the girl told her. ‘In the name of Starling? Just two nights.’

‘You wouldn’t think it was just two nights,’ observed her boyfriend with a grin. ‘Given the amount of stuff you’ve packed.’

He received a nudge in the ribs for his cheek.

‘You have to be prepared,’ said the girl. ‘Don’t you?’ She turned to Angelica for support.

‘Oh yes,’ agreed Angelica. ‘Who knows what the weather’s going to be like? Or what might happen.’

She called their reservation up on the computer screen and saw that they were booked into the Broom Cupboard, the tiniest room in the hotel. It was sweet, but really only suitable for a person on their own: even though there was just enough room for a double bed, it was pretty cramped.

On impulse, Angelica checked her watch. It was late afternoon, and unlikely that anyone else was going to book in for the weekend at this stage.

She leant forward, her eyes twinkling.

‘Listen. We’ve got one of our bigger rooms still available,’ she told them confidentially. ‘I’m going to move you into that one at no extra cost.’ She flashed them a grin. ‘Don’t tell anyone.’

‘Wow!’ The girl looked delighted. ‘Thank you very much.’

Her boyfriend nodded his appreciation. ‘Cool,’ he said, and he was. Very cool indeed, thought Angelica, entranced by the deep grey of his eyes and hoping the girl knew just how lucky she was.

Having given them their key, Angelica watched the two of them follow Ben up the stairs. She felt a little glow in her heart that she’d been able to do them a kindness. Then she wondered if she would ever turn up to a hotel like the Townhouse with a man she loved and find herself upgraded. She couldn’t imagine how it would feel. She amended the room reservation on the computer, the glow of her generosity fading somewhat, but hoping that her gesture was good karma and that the same might happen to her some day, somewhere.