Page 10 of (Not So) Mad About You

“Because… Because of the retreaty relaxy place.”

Bea searched her head to decode this. “Ah, right, the retreat that you’re supposed to teach at.”

“Exactamundo,” beamed Liz again. “And you’re just the job for the person. The person for the job. The… You can do it.”

“You want me to take your place?” Bea asked.

Liz smiled beatifically. “Exactamundo.” She closed her eyes, then opened one and glared at Bea. “And don’t be a push-over, no letting people walk all over you, my little friend.” Then she closed the eye again and fell asleep.

Chapter Five

If Alli knew one thing, it was that there had to be a way out of this. Alright, so she was sitting in the car with a case on the back seat driving toward whatever hell-hole this was going to be. But she still knew that there had to be a way not to waste two precious weeks of her life learning… what? How not to be a go-getter? How not to stand up for herself? How to let people walk all over her?

Which was not the point, as Darren had pointed out when he’d escorted her to her flat.

“I’m not a child,” she’d said.

“I’m not treating you like one,” he’d said reasonably. “I’m just making sure that you’re doing what you need to do so that we both keep our jobs and life can go back to the way it was.”

“Just with me being less myself.”

“Less angry,” he’d said.

She’d rolled her eyes and taken a deep breath because seriously, this really couldn’t be happening. And then she’d done something which even she had to admit was crossing the line.

She’d taken a step forward, pushing Darren toward the wall, then taken another one, until she was close enough that she could see the whiskers on his chin and could hear him swallow.

“Come on,” she’d said, lowering her voice to practically a purr. “We don’t really have to do this. I can just work from home for the next two weeks and we’ll tell no one about it.” She’d raisedher hand to cup his cheek.

And he’d slid out of her grasp, brushing his suit off as if she’d been dusty or infectious. “We don’t have to do this. You have to do this,” he’d said. “And I think we should both pretend that that shameful little display didn’t just happen.”

It wasn’t that she liked him. She didn’t. Not like that, anyway. It had been, looking back, pure desperation. She already knew that she didn’t function that way, that whatever this mysterious sexy feeling was supposed to be she was incapable of feeling it.

The incident had left her feeling dirty and shallow and disgusted enough with herself that she’d silently packed a bag and let Darren walk her to her car in the car park under her building.

“Sorry,” she’d mumbled as she opened the driver’s door.

He’d reached over and turned her head so that she was looking at him. His eyes were kind. “It’s fine,” he said. “Really. You were exploring every avenue, I get it. It’s one of the things that makes you so good at your job, that drive to do anything to get the results that you want.”

“If it’s such a good thing, then why are you forcing me to go into therapy or whatever?”

He smiled a little. “Because a little of something is good and a lot of something generally isn’t. Drink a glass of whiskey a night and you’re cultured. Drink a bottle and you’re a drunk. You need to learn to limit yourself, to draw boundaries, and, god forgive me for saying this, you need to learn how to switch off. You can’t work all the time. And you can’t be this angry. At this rate, you’ll have a heart attack before you’re forty.”

None of which meant that she’d play ball. She’d got in the car and driven off and was well on her way by now. Almost there, in fact. But she would find a way to get out of this. She just wasn’t sure how yet.

And now there was a stupid light blinking at her from the dashboard. She peered at it and realized that it was the low petrol light. Shit. All this bother and she’d forgotten something as simple as a fill up.

She saw the familiar lights of the petrol station coming up. Better to take care of this now. She’d need a full tank for when she broke out of this stupid wellness prison. She smirked at the idea of a getaway car running out of petrol.

Indicator on, she turned into the forecourt.

???

In the end, it had been the best plan for everyone involved. Liz got to rest in her sick bed without worrying about letting a client down. Marilyn and Robbie got the entire flat to themselves for two weeks. And Bea herself got a job, with hopefully enough money to save up for a deposit for a new flat on the off-chance that Marilyn and Robbie really weren’t planning on moving out. And a potential long-term gig if the retreat liked her work.

So who said that the universe wasn’t listening now?

Everything had turned out fine, at least for the short term, and Bea was even smiling as she pootled along in Benny, her ancient Renault.

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