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“Hi,” he said, his voice croaky. He shifted over to the edge of the bed. He’d actually have to get up now, which just made the whole hangover even worse.
Becky snuggled closer, and Charlie found the strength to hop out of bed before his head started throbbing again.
“Well, another busy day,” he hinted, shuffling toward his chest of drawers. His flat above the restaurant had never been large, but today it felt positively miniscule. It certainly wasn’t the home he’d imagined having when he moved to Aberarian. No, that was the cottage. With Becky. Charlie considered. All things being equal, even if Becky wasn’t in the flat, he’d still rather be in his kitchen right now. Maybe Magda knew some miracle Polish hangover cure. They drank a lot of vodka over there, didn’t they?
The chest of drawers yielded up some clean underwear, but Charlie suspected his favorite jeans, the ones he’d put on for the pub the night before, were in the lounge. He had a vague recollection of Becky stripping them off him the moment they made it through the door. More worryingly, he suspected his top had been gone before that. What had he been thinking? This, Charlie was certain, was not the best way to persuade an ex-girlfriend it was over. With a small shudder, he made his way through to the lounge.
As he stepped into his jeans, Charlie looked back and saw Becky had followed him. She was lounging in the doorway to the bedroom, draped only in the thin blanket he kept at the end of his bed for colder nights. This was not going to go well.
“Um, Becky. About last night…”
But Becky surprised him. Slinking closer, she pressed a finger to his lips and said, “It was what it was. We don’t need to talk about it now.”
Charlie stepped out of her reach. “Uh, that’s good.” He struggled into a clean t-shirt and considered risking returning to the bedroom for socks, but decided it was too dangerous. “Because, um, I’ve got work to do. Lots of work. Breakfasts, probably.” What time was it anyway? Would Magda and Kevin already be hard at work downstairs, ready to glare at him when he appeared?
“That’s fine,” Becky said, her voice calm and serene. “I should get back to the hotel myself, actually.” She dropped the blanket, and even Charlie couldn’t help but watch her magnificent naked form as she sashayed through the door and bent to gather up her clothes.
Then he blinked and shoved his bare feet into his trainers. This was his chance to get away, while everything was still nice and only slightly disturbing.
“Besides,” Becky went on, straightening up and turning to face him again. “I’ll see you tomorrow night for dinner with Mia and Tony, anyway.”
And there it was. With mounting horror, Charlie remembered the previous night’s arrangement. He still didn’t remember agreeing to it, but that didn’t really matter. He’d slept with Becky last night, and however stupid it might have been, he couldn’t now stand her up in front of their friends. Especially since the meal was at his restaurant.
Oh God, what am I going to cook?
“That’s right,” he said, edging in the direction of the door. “And I’d better go and decide what to feed you all.”
Becky smiled at him, her clothes piled in her arms. “Lovely. And I’ll just…get myself cleaned up before I go.”
Charlie was nodding manically now, but he did have the door open, which was something. “Absolutely. Make yourself at home. You know where everything is…” She had, after all, lived there for three months.
And then he was out the door and on his way to freedom. But his relief was short lived. As Charlie closed the door behind him, he saw Becky reach into her handbag and pull out a toothbrush. Why did she pack a toothbrush for a night at the pub?
Heading down the stairs to the restaurant, he figured out it. She’d planned this all along. And the worst part was, he wasn’t even very surprised.
The thing to remember about Becky, he told himself sternly, is that she’s manipulative, confident, and very determined to get what’s hers.
Which led him to the question: what did she want this time? And how could he convince her it wasn’t him?
* * * *
It seemed monumentally wrong to be wandering around a junior school with a hangover. Still, Mia sat outside Miss Leonora Evans’s Year Six classroom, waiting for the teacher to finish explaining to the kids who their visitor was, hoping against hope she wasn’t using the phrase crazy lady.
The classroom door opened, and Leonora’s pretty blond bob appeared, topping a patently false smile. “The children are ready for you now, Mia.”
Mia returned an equally fake grin. Leonora Evans had never liked her, ever since she’d dated Daniel Price in sixth form, when he was new in town and before he learned that if he wanted any other friends he’d better stay away from Mia Page. Mia was pretty sure Leonora had been the one to explain it to him. She’d started dating him a week or so later, but apparently never got over the fact Mia’d had him first.
Mia gathered her papers and got to her feet. “Excellent,” she said, following the schoolteacher into the classroom.
It went about as badly as she’d expected, to start with. The moment Leonora said, “Children, this is Miss Mia Page,” a snotty nosed boy at the back of the class asked, “Wasn’t your dad...”
“Yes,” Mia interrupted, hoping to head that particular line of enquiry off at the pass. “Now, I’m here today to talk to you about how you can get involved in helping save the Coliseum Cinema by taking part in this year’s Fish and Film Festival.”
“Never go to it anyway,” the boy at the back said. “Coliseum’s rubbish. We go to the Odeon over in Coed-y-Capel.”
A girl in one of the front rows turned round to ask, “Do they do nachos there? My brother says...” and then the room descended into an ice cream and hot dogs debate while Mia looked desperately at Leonora for help.
Miss Evans shrugged, a very sweet smile on her face.
Right. Time for Plan B.
Ditsy hadn’t had anything on Leonora Evans. “Wrong generation,” she’d said, her voice glum, when Mia had asked. “I just can’t keep up any more.”
Jacques hadn’t been any more forthcoming. “Subscribes to all those celebrity mags. Other than that...” He shrugged. “Just the usual bills and flyers.”
But it was enough to get Mia thinking, so she’d switched on her computer and checked and, after some creative searching, she’d confirmed that, sure enough, in a bid to win the popularity contest of the internet, Leonora had her own webpage and blog. AppleForTheTeacher.co.uk was full of interesting tidbits about the school, the pupils and local goings-on. There were even some fascinating photos from the staff Christmas night out.
Mia sidled up to Leonora’s desk and, perching on the edge, said, “You know, I’ve been meaning to tell you how much I enjoy your blog. You really should promote it more. I think the kids would find it so helpful to know their teacher is only human.”
Leonora stiffened and got to her feet, clapping her hands together loudly. “All right now, that’s enough. Now we’re going to listen to Miss Page and then we’re going to talk about how we want to help at the festival.”
Mia smiled as the classroom quieted down. All back on track.
* * * *
Having spent the past two days alternatively fretting about the dinner that night and cursing himself for sleeping with Becky again, actually cooking the meal itself was surprisingly restful. He’d gone for comfort food in the end. God knew he needed it.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and serve?” Magda asked, her coat already half on.
Charlie shook his head. “I wouldn’t subject anybody else to this misery.”
Magda gave him an amused smile, which turned sympathetic as she opened the kitchen doors. Abandoning his starter prep, Charlie peered out to see Becky approaching, slipping her black velvet coat off her shoulders.
“Who wears velvet in June?” Magda murmured. “Are you sure?”
“Go,” Charlie said, and she went, taking and hanging Becky’s c
oat on her way.
Becky leaned against the kitchen doors. “Something smells delicious.”
“Fish pie,” Charlie said. “It’s already in the oven. I’m just...”
“Oh good.” Becky grabbed his arm. “Then you can come and have a drink with me while we wait for the others.”
Charlie was already into the main restaurant before he could think his way through the menu. The calamari starter couldn’t be cooked until everyone was there, anyway. And he did deserve a gin and tonic.
As he poured, Charlie considered the best way to say what he knew he had to. On the one hand, if he got it wrong, Becky would sulk all night and make dinner a misery for everyone. But too far the other way and Becky might get an erroneous idea about their future.
Becky settled her hand on his thigh the moment he sat down on the bar stool next to her, and Charlie decided to go with the tried and tested.
“Look, Bex. About the other night.”
A secretive smile began to spread across her face, and she splayed her fingers against his leg, reaching higher. “Fun, wasn’t it.”
“It was fun,” Charlie allowed. “I’m just not so sure it was a good idea.”
“Really?” Becky slid off her stool and rested between his legs, both palms now hot against his jeans. “I thought it was a very good idea.”
