Page 37 of The Monday Night Heartbreak Club
‘Or he’s anal,’ added Flynn, as Eddie carefullyindicated, on a road deserted apart from him and us, to go straight on around a roundabout. ‘Drop back a bit, Fee, he’s going to spot us.’
‘But we know where he’s going – to that place in… Oh.’
Instead of turning into York to head for the house we’d seen him visit before, Eddie stayed on the main road. We all exchanged another look.
‘I hope he’s not going too far,’ Flynn said. ‘I’ve got a delivery coming at twelve.’
‘He’ll have to be back by half past five this afternoon.’ I dropped back a little way and a Mini got between us and Eddie, so we could relax. ‘He hasn’t told Annie he’s taken the day off, remember? So he has to pretend to have been at work.’
‘Oh, so that’s why he’d got his suit on! In case she woke up and saw him leaving.’ Fraser slapped his forehead. ‘Thought that was weird.’
In the most well-mannered and careful car chase ever, we pursued Eddie to the motorway and down to Doncaster where he turned off.
Fraser was asleep in the back, head lolling. Even so, I didn’t want to raise any personal matters, so Flynn and I travelled on in silence, with Flynn looking out to watch the dawn break over the grey hills and me concentrating on the rolling tarmac ahead. There was more traffic now as we approached the cities, more people on their way to early shifts or home from all-nighters, and the reluctant sun peered from the regular clumps of cloud to illuminate us all.
‘Where the hell is hegoing?’ Flynn shifted as Eddie indicated scrupulously and pulled off the motorway. The exit led to an out-of-town retail park, dominated by a large chain hotel and conference centre. ‘Even the shops aren’t open yet.’
Eddie seemed to know exactly where he was going. He parked his car, precisely centred in the space as usual, and got out. Hestretched, locked the car and then set out for the hotel, looking purposeful.
I parked behind a lorry to conceal us from view and we watched as Eddie strode into the reception area. I saw him talk to the receptionist, who gave him something and then pointed to the stairs.
‘He’s checking in!’ Flynn announced so loudly that Fraser woke up with a snort. ‘It bloodyisanother woman! He’s meeting someone!’
‘I’m not certain,’ I said, slowly. ‘It didn’t look like a key card. To me, it looked more like a lanyard.’
‘Wha’?’ Fraser sat up and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, where he’d been noticeably drooling.
‘I don’t think he’s here to meet anyone. I think he’s here for a conference. Or a talk or some kind of get-together, anyway.’
We all stared for a moment at the corporate hotel. It did not look like the kind of place anyone would head to for a romantic tryst, certainly. It definitelydidlook like somewhere that might host a pork by-products seminar. It looked a little as though it had beenbuiltfrom pork by-products as it glowed pinkly under the rising sun, rimed by the last glimmers of frost. It actually resembled a giant bacon rasher, but I didn’t like to say so. It seemed unnecessarily whimsical.
‘But why the hell take a day off to go to a work meeting? And why not tell Annie?’ Fraser scrubbed a hand through his hair now.
‘Only one way to find out.’ Flynn opened the car door and a shot of cold morning air enlivened us all. ‘We have to follow him.’
I hung back. ‘What if he recognises us?’
‘The place will be busy, we can hide in the crowd. If he does see us, we can say we’re here for… ummm… wild sex awayfrom home.’
I looked at Fraser, who was wearing a tracksuit, had his hair on end and the remnants of his sleep-dribble on his chin. ‘What, we’re having a threesome?’
Fraser brightened. ‘I’m up for it.’ Then, catching sight of Flynn’s face, ‘Er, pretending, I mean. Not for real. Honest.’
We trotted across the car park, weaving our way between other arrivals. It was approaching eight o’clock and the hotel seemed to specialise in breakfast meetings or at least very early starters, because the reception area was busy.
‘No sign of him,’ Fraser reported, hiding unnecessarily behind a potted palm while Flynn and I scanned the area.
‘Maybe he’s having breakfast.’ I nodded towards the hotel restaurant, which was filling up with people in suits. There was a cadre of brightly dressed women too, who wafted down the stairs and across the reception area, all chattering together, and through the restaurant doors.
‘Breakfast?’ Fraser asked, hopefully. ‘Could do with a fry-up. Er, if nobody tells Minnie.’
‘He’s in there.’ I dodged out into the crowd, mingled with the colourful women for a second under cover of their shawls and capes, and back to the men. ‘Sitting by himself eating muesli, it looks like.’
‘So, not a room.’ Flynn frowned. ‘Okay. My turn.’
Confidently, as though he owned the place – which, a tiny stab of memory told me, he might well do, or his father, at least – Flynn approached the receptionist on duty, a very well-groomed lady behind a computer screen. I watched him stride over to the desk smiling, and felt a momentary doubt follow that memory thrust. Flynn. Lean and dark and with that slightly diffident air that made him fade into the background. I wondered if he’d learned that from being around his father, who, if I remembered rightly, was practically mobile foreground. Could he and I ever…? Iwas nothing, a struggling nobody and he was – well, he was Flynn.
Then I remembered his unhappiness, his confessions about picking the wrong woman, his insecurity in his own judgement. Flynn might be from a wealthy background, he might have all the advantages, but really he was just a bloke. A rather nicer bloke than the ones I usually associated with, admittedly, but, at base, just a bloke.
