Still Thinking of You Read online

  There had been a time before Aurora was conceived when Kate had resented the ridiculous hours he worked. He was a trader, for God’s sake. Didn’t the markets ever close? Apparently, yes, but when they did Ted had to schmooze clients at fancy restaurants and casinos until the early hours. She’d done it herself once upon a time, which probably made standing on the sidelines harder to stomach. When he’d suggested they went in for a third child she’d, rather unusually, let out a yell. ‘What’s the point when you don’t see the two you have?’

  She’d cried and shouted and reasoned that the children missed him, that she missed him, that bringing them up on her own was overwhelming, and it did feel as though she was bringing them up on her own. In those days she was lucky if he made it home before ten. Even then he’d sometimes come home, eat his supper (without looking up from his plate), then retire to his study to ‘finish off some paperwork’. Things had been much better since Aurora was born. Kate was sorry she’d had to make a fuss, put her foot down, but she was glad she had. Recently Ted had made it home by six or six-thirty. He’d found balance. He’d reprioritized. He’d had a word with his boss, and his boss had been very gracious about the situation and agreed that work wasn’t everything.

  So he couldn’t be stressed at work.

  Kate felt a slight pang of guilt and apprehension that she didn’t know what was worrying her husband. She didn’t have time to think about this now. They really were going to be late. Perhaps miss the plane if a decision wasn’t made.

  ‘She skis, doesn’t she?’ asked Kate.

  ‘Snowboards, actually,’ confirmed Ted.

  Naturally, thought Kate. No doubt Jayne thought skiing was passeé in comparison to the far edgier sport of snowboarding. Kate walked back on to the landing. She picked up the phone and started to punch the buttons of Natasha’s number. Kate sighed, and wished she’d been born the type of woman other people took care of. Rather than the more prosaic role in which she’d been cast, the one who looked after the admin.

  12. Departures

  The departure lounge at Heathrow Terminal 1 was a representative snapshot of Britain at that moment, in so much as it was full of pasty, post-Christmas, lardy people who had clearly eaten and drunk too much, partied too hard and slept too little in the previous month. The airport was bursting with people who definitely needed to visit spas and slopes to shake off their Christmas excess. Clusters of family groups sulked and snarled at one another, while shop sound systems piped out jolly jingles, still promising winter wonderlands, even though it was the end of January. The reality of Christmas – dry turkey and ill-advised, drunken fumbling with colleagues at office parties – was far from the fantasy – snow-covered mountains and hot chocolate by an open fire – and this fact was never more clear than in late January. No amount of bright new scarves and woolly hats or new warm coats not yet ruined by the dry cleaners could disguise that.

  The bridal party, however, provided a contrast.

  The gang had arranged to meet up outside WH Smith’s, so that they could check in together and secure seats next to one another on the flight. Their mood was entirely school trip. Yes, the bridal party cut a definite dash through the noise and chaos of the departure lounge. They were all fit, wealthy, confident and, if not young, then certainly young enough. They may have indulged in ill-advised, drunken fumbling with colleagues at office parties like the rest of the population. They may have been subjected to dry turkey and one too many mince pies, but you would never know it. Their smiles were broad, their laughter loud and hearty, their shoes and hair shone. The group of friends parted the crowd as though it were the Red Sea. People turned to stare. It was clear that these were people who knew success, love and luck.

  The girls hugged and kissed one another. The boys punched each other’s shoulders affectionately. They were not oblivious to the envious stares – but far from being fazed. They languished in the onlookers’ envy, and laughed that bit louder than necessary and talked that bit posher than usual.

  ‘Lloyd, good to see you, mate,’ said Jason, as he held a hand in the air for Lloyd to high-five. Lloyd did so, and tried not to feel self-conscious. ‘It’s been a long time. Far too long.’

  ‘I’ll second that. Nice to see you again, buddy,’ said Rich, as he shook Lloyd’s hand warmly. Kate and Mia leant in to hug and air kiss him, too. Ted smiled shyly from the back of the crowd, and gave a small wave. Lloyd smiled back, relaxing a little. Rich pushed Tash in front of him and introduced her.

  God, she was lovely. Rich had done well there. Good luck to them. He knew that Mia thought it was stupid them rushing into a marriage like this – after all, they hadn’t known each other for even a year yet. But Lloyd didn’t subscribe to that theory. He and Sophie had known each other for two years before they’d become engaged, and then they’d had a sensible twelve-month engagement. And look at how they’d ended up. Lloyd handed his passport to Rich, who had turned his attention to presenting everyone’s passports to the girl at the check-in desk. He was ensuring that the air miles were registered on their exec cards.

  ‘Where’s your card, babe?’ Rich asked Tash.

  ‘Card?’

  ‘Your exec card.’

  ‘I don’t have one,’ Tash smiled.

  ‘We’ll have to put that right. I’m going to make sure that your life is going to be one long honeymoon.’

  Tash kissed him affectionately.

  Yup, the way Lloyd figured it, Natasha and Rich had as much, and as little, chance as anyone else of making it.

  ‘Hiiiiiii,’ a woman’s voice cut through the chatter. For a moment no one could see to whom it was attached. As the woman with the voice emerged from the back of the check-in queue, it seemed that everyone in the terminal turned to look at her. Her clattering heels silenced the drone of the conveyor belts, escalators, piped music and conversations. She was jaw-dropping.

  ‘You must be Natasha,’ said the stunning woman. She held out her hand for the bride-to-be to shake. Tash took it, but clearly didn’t know whom she was greeting. Kate stepped in.

  ‘That’s right, and, Natasha, this is Jayne. We’re so grateful that you let her join us. It’s such a big favour, thank –’ But Kate was cut short as Jayne swept past her and linked arms with Tash.

  ‘Absolutely darling of you,’ said Jayne.

  ‘Oh, no problem,’ Tash reassured with a grin. She had been delighted when Kate called to ask if the ‘wayward little sister could join the party’. Tash was certain that a wayward little sister was exactly what the party needed. She’d agreed immediately, without checking with Rich. To Tash’s surprise, Rich had been a bit sulky about it. He’d said it was bad-mannered of Jayne to invite herself along, and pointed out that their original idea was to have a very private ceremony. Tash had pointed out that one more person would not make a difference.

  ‘I couldn’t possibly have faced another night alone. Can I call you Tash?’

  ‘Well, my friends do,’ smiled Tash, delighted that she’d clearly made the right call. Jayne was so warm.

  ‘And we are going to be such friends. Now tell me, I want to know all about your plans for the wedding. I love a wedding. Can’t get enough of them, darling. And snow, I love snow. And handsome men,’ she turned and smiled flirtatiously at Rich, Jase and Lloyd. ‘If there’s one thing I love more than weddings or snow, it is a handsome man,’ she laughed, then in a fake stage whisper added, ‘although I couldn’t eat a whole one, darling.’ Jayne grinned, and Tash giggled.

  Jayne was a delight and a relief. It had taken her just four sentences to adopt Tash’s true nickname and insist that Tash would be her friend. Tash gratefully surrendered to Jayne’s gushing and merriment, and she happily followed her towards the magazine rack.

  ‘Have you got lots of these bridal magazines, Tash darling?’ asked Jayne, pointing to the row of mags that showed blushing, demure, seductive and girlie brides by turn beaming from the covers.

  ‘Err, no. We’re not having that sort of wed
ding.’

  ‘What sort?’

  ‘Well, big. White. I just mean that I won’t be needing advice on seating plans.’

  ‘Darling, you are having a white wedding. There’ll be snow everywhere. It’s the ultimate in romantic,’ said Jayne, as she reached for a clutch of the mags and headed off to the till.

  ‘I mean, I’m getting married in waterproofs, not organza,’ Tash pointed out.

  ‘Well, I’ll buy these mags for me, then. I love them. My wedding is all planned. Even the groom. Although he hasn’t actually agreed to it.’ Jayne beamed, but Tash noticed her eyes were watering.

  The poor girl! Tash hadn’t realized that Jayne had been engaged to her ex, or if not actually engaged they must have had an understanding if Jayne had started to plan the wedding. God, how awful. No wonder she was devastated. Tash wondered whether coming on holiday with a bridal party was the best idea for someone who had recently been jilted. Looking through bridal magazines seemed positively masochistic.

  ‘I’m not sure we really need those mags,’ said Tash. ‘I don’t think they are relevant.’

  ‘Darling Tash, don’t underplay it too much. It is your big day.’ Jayne suddenly turned to Tash and stared at her with fierce intent. ‘You are thrilled to be getting married, aren’t you? Ecstatic?’

  ‘Of course,’ Tash assured her. ‘Ecstatic. Obviously.’

  ‘Of course you are thrilled to be marrying Rich. He’s absolutely darling.’

  Tash grinned. After knowing Jayne all of about ten minutes, already she could guess that Jayne described everyone as ‘absolutely darling’.

  ‘And the word on the street is that he’s scalding in the sack,’ whispered Jayne.

  Tash laughed. She was pleased – that was just the kind of comment her mates would make. Jayne would make an excellent surrogate best friend, in the absence of her real ones.

  The women, although both attractive, looked nothing alike and so provided a complementary contrast to one another. Tash was tall, willowy and blonde; Jayne was slight, curvy and dark. They both wore their hair long, the ends of which swayed and brushed up against one another as they walked jauntily towards the till.

  Mia watched as Lloyd and Jason circled Jayne and Tash. Jayne had certainly changed since the first time the gang had met her when she came up to uni to visit Ted. She hadn’t even taken her GCSEs at the time, that put her at about fifteen, or sixteen at the oldest, when the rest of them were nineteen. Just three years and yet it had seemed such a huge age gap at the time. The undergraduates had thought they were so worldly-wise and sophisticated, and that Jayne was just a child. They’d been wrong on both counts.

  Back then, she’d been gauche and, not quite ugly, but certainly plain. Chubby, bad skin, that sort of thing. Now Jayne wore her chestnut brown hair way past her shoulders. It was cut into layers and had auburn highlights subtly threaded throughout. When the light caught her hair she was swathed in a red halo, more devilish than angelic. She had huge, brown eyes that took up most of her face. They were framed by thick, long lashes, which Jayne liked to look from under. There were no signs of her former chubbiness. although she did have large breasts. Her body was trim and toned – it was clear that she was a regular gym visitor. No one could miss the fact that she had full, red lips and dazzlingly white teeth, as she had this little habit of nibbling her lower lip, which somehow drew attention to both attributes. She was tiny, probably only five foot one or two; Mia knew she was the type of woman that made men wish they had a coat of armour and a charging white steed.

  ‘I knew that Jayne worked with you, but I hadn’t realized that she was a particular friend of yours,’ Mia said to Rich, with ill-disguised bad humour.

  ‘She’s not,’ admitted Rich uncomfortably. ‘Peterson Windlooper is massive. I think I’ve only come across her once or twice. Obviously, I’ve met her a couple of times socially through Ted, over the years – just like the rest of you guys.’ He drew Mia close to him and away from Kate and Ted, whispering, ‘They begged an invite on her behalf. Apparently she’s just split up from her boyfriend and she was inconsolable, desperate. Very awkward, obviously. Tash said yes out of politeness. I am as surprised as you are to have her here, believe me.’ He shrugged.

  Lloyd said something, and Jayne threw her head back and let loose squeals of laughter. Mia couldn’t believe that Lloyd had ever said anything funny enough to warrant such amused appreciation.

  ‘Yeah, she certainly looks depressed,’ she sniped.

  ‘Jealous, are we?’ he teased.

  ‘No. Why should I be jealous?’

  ‘Well, if Jayne hadn’t come on the trip, the women were in a minority against the men. And you, my dear Mia, were in a minority of one, as the only single woman here.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. You guys are all ancient history. This is hardly the type of holiday that I’m intending to pull on,’ lied Mia. In fact, Rich was absolutely correct in his diagnosis as to why she was irritated by Jayne’s presence. That was the problem with old mates, they knew you too well. Mia, however, was not going to admit as much. ‘I think Jayne is a great girl. I’m pleased she’s come along. The more the merrier.’

  ‘Right,’ said Rich, but he raised his eyebrows and grinned, making it clear that he didn’t believe her, not for a second.

  13. Jayne’s Pain

  Despite her forced gaiety, Jayne was frantic. Devastated. Bewildered. How could he have dumped her so completely, so unceremoniously, so stupidly? They made such a great couple. They were so entirely right for each other. She knew that her sister-in-law dismissed her love life as trivial, but Kate didn’t have a clue. Kate was so smug; everything was so easy for her. She had no idea what it was like out there.

  But it was tough. Very tough. Jayne was sick of sleeping with dead-eyed strangers, hoping that they could offer her some consolation, a spark of intimacy.

  Everyone was always looking for the One. But that was not Jayne’s problem. She’d found her One, her man. She knew who she should be with, to whom she belonged, who belonged to her. They had so much in common. They were both into the same type of music, they liked playing the same sports, they both hated period dramas and loved action movies, and they even supported the same football team, for God’s sake. Her friends liked him. His friends adored her. They were sizzling in the sack. They were a perfect match.

  But he would not commit.

  This constant breaking up and making up was beginning to wear pretty thin. At first it was very romantic. The kiss-and-make-up bit was so much fun that Jayne had sometimes provoked a row on purpose, but she hadn’t risked that strategy for a long time now. When they were together they had the best times. It was so obvious. So why weren’t they together more often?

  Jayne had done everything she could think of to try to get some kind of clear commitment out of him. It didn’t necessarily have to be a princess-cut diamond, but she was hoping that he’d find room in his chest of drawers for her to keep her scanty panties. She’d played best friend and sex siren. She’d pleaded; she’d sulked; she’d ignored him. She’d hung on his every word. Her friends kept pointing out his lack of response to all forms of cajoling did not bode well. Gently, at first, they’d dropped hints that there were plenty more fish in the sea and that maybe he wasn’t the One. They’d pointed out that the other fish were already hooked, and all she had to do was reel one of them in. This was true. But what a depressing fact. Why was it that she never wanted the ones that were besotted with her? Later her friends’ hints had become more robust as they insisted that she couldn’t hold a gun to his head.

  Thank God for this holiday. If she hadn’t… Oh fuck, it didn’t bear thinking about. Her life would have been over. Thank God, Kate finally came through and asked for the invite. She wouldn’t have liked to do it herself, and she could hardly just turn up, but a holiday was just what she needed. And what he needed. This break would do them good. Then he’d see. After a week, he’d see that she was his girl, the one for him. After th
e week’s holiday, well, then they’d start again. She was sure of it.

  ‘I love airports, don’t you?’ asked Tash, interrupting Jayne’s thoughts. Tash beamed. ‘They are such romantic places.’

  ‘Darling, they are awful places; full of tense parents, screaming children, petulant staff and terrorists.’

  Tash laughed, ‘Look around you. Airports are full of poignant goodbyes and joyful hellos. And shops, really good shops.’

  Tash was clearly a very happy woman. Her excitement at being a bride-to-be only served to emphasize Jayne’s misery. Still, Jayne knew it would not do to wallow. She had too much pride to let her brother’s friends know just how completely alone and totally, utterly distraught she really felt. Showing her hand, let alone her heart, was not her style.

  Jayne smiled, ‘I guess I’m spoilt because I travel such a lot with work. I’ve stopped noticing airports.’

  ‘God, I can’t imagine stopping noticing the caviar house, although I never buy anything there or any of the other luxury goods stores, come to think of it. But I just love browsing. Most of all I love the general sense of anticipation that hangs in the air. The fact that everyone is going somewhere, doing something important with their day, do you know what I mean?’

  Jayne forced a smile and nodded. She did. Her heart was splintered. Ruptured. But putting some distance between herself and London might be the answer. This flight might be the most important one of her life.

  ‘I do know what you mean, darling, but you’ve run out of time for window shopping. That was our flight they called. Come on, and don’t forget your beanie.’ Jayne handed Tash her hat. She’d left it on a chair and probably would have lost it.