Page 100 of Take My Breath Away
Deep in my pocket my mobile pings, and so does my bloody heart. Every time it does, I think… What I know I shouldn’t think. I fish it out, and try to ignore my hammering heart.
“What’s that?” Alfie shifts over to look at the message. “Fuck me. Talk about silver lining.”
“Yeah.” I re-read the message, once, twice, three times.
The cash buyer on the bungalow has pulled out. The owners are desperate to sell and have slashed the price. It’s not just a bargain, they’re virtually giving it away, and I’m being given first refusal.
“Well, that’s a turn up. You better get your signature down on the dotted line, because I reckon you’re going to Brighton.”
Chapter Forty-Five
JAMES
I beckon to the barman to bring me another G&T. He’s young, fair-haired, and flirty and in another lifetime I would have flirted back. Now, it’s the last thing I feel like doing and I wonder if I ever will again. I don’t return his smile and he moves off to the other end of the bar.
It’s Thursday, and five days since Perry left. I shake my head. I shouldn’t be counting, because his leaving is best for both of us, long term, but I can’t not count. I simply can’t not.
I haven’t been here before. The pub doesn’t know me, and I don’t know it. Here, I’m anonymous, and I’m more than fine with that.
From my place at the end of the bar, I look out at the life going on around me. Groups of friends all laughing and chatting, and couples who have eyes only for one another. Sometimes the couples lean into each other and kiss. I turn away, the heat of other people’s happiness too searing. I should go home but I don’t want to, because all I’ll find is an empty shell. No life, no warmth.
No love.
Thrusting my hand deep into my trouser pocket, I pull out my mobile. The hook up apps, and the account with the upmarket escort agency are all gone but it wouldn’t take long to reinstate them. My hand tightens around my phone, as the oily, aromatic gin gurgles in my stomach, making me feel vaguely sick. I shove the mobile back into my pocket.
I have to go home sometime, and it may as well be now. I’m about to get up and leave when a shoulder bumps mine.
The place is getting busier, and it could just be an accident but I know it’s not. I turn my head to look at the guy who’s set himself on the seat next to me.
He’s handsome. The lights from the bar pick out the deep copper strands in his hair, and his eyes are dark brown. My stomach knots, and I can’t help but stare. He takes it as an invitation and, smiling, opens his mouth to speak but he clamps it closed when I shake my head hard. His smile disappears and he turns away.
I leave, making my way back to a house that for a brief time was a home. There’s nothing there, now, nothing waiting for me other than silence, a cold and empty bed, and all those promises I can’t keep.
* * *
“Oh, Christ.”
Peeling my eyes open I stare up at the ceiling. My head’s hammering with the power of a hundred pneumatic drills, and something from a sewer has crawled into my mouth and died. I’m not even in bed, but sprawled out on the sofa and still dressed. The reason’s on the coffee table next to me. A bottle of forty-year-old brandy, half of it gone and the top sitting next to the empty glass.
Peering at my watch, I groan. Five-thirty in the morning. My body, despite the alcoholic beating I’ve given it, is conditioned to wake up at this time.
I fumble for me phone, but I’m clumsy and drop it to the floor. My head spins as I lean down to pick it up, and at the same time sickness bubbles in my guts. I take a deep breath, then another, before I sit up and tap out a quick text to my PA, telling her I won’t be in today. I’m just about to add that I’ll be working from home. Screw that. Instead, I tell her to cancel all my appointments, that I’m uncontactable and I’ll see her on Monday. Wishing her a good weekend, I hit send and switch my mobile off before I can change my mind. Slumping back on the sofa, I close my eyes as I think about taking a shower and cleaning my teeth.
I wake up two hours later, still feeling like crap, but a couple of pints of water, a large mug of black coffee, some aspirin, and a hot shower later, I convince myself I can pass for a functioning human being. Now, all I have to do is wonder what the hell I’m going to do with myself.
The day stretching out in front of me is long, blank and featureless, and for a moment I regret my earlier text. I could go into work, say my plans have changed…
The doorbell rings, making me jump.
A couple of burly guys stand on the doorstep with a very large green object balanced between them.
“Mr Campion? Mr James Campion?” one of them asks as he looks at his phone. “Your Christmas tree, delivered as ordered. Where do you want it?”
I hadn’t told Perry when it was coming, because I’d wanted to surprise him. I’d imagined us decorating it together, eating warm mince pies and drinking too much eggnog before getting very dirty together on the rug.
“Sir? We’ve got a lot of deliveries to make today,” the same guy says. I can virtually hear his eye roll.
“Yes, of course. Take it round the back, will you? I’ll open the gate.”
