Christmas at the Beach Cafe(14)

‘I’ll tell you what you need,’ I said. ‘A good old scream. Go for it. Nobody’s around. Just open your lungs and let rip.’

‘What, here?’

‘Absolutely here. Like this.’ I stopped walking, threw my head back and screamed out all the tension I’d felt ever since Jake had arrived. The wind snatched up my voice and threw it out to sea. ‘Try it. You’ll feel so much better.’

She didn’t hesitate. With clenched fists and a screwed up face, she opened her mouth and let it all out. ‘AAAAAAAAARRGGHHHH!’

Then she grinned. ‘God, that felt good.’

‘I know, right? It’s the most brilliant stress reliever ever. AAAAAAAARRRGGHHHH!’

‘AAAAAARRRGGGGHHH!’

‘AAAAAAARRRRGGGHHHH!’

She started laughing then. ‘Jesus, we’re going to have the men in white coats here any second.’

‘No, we’re not,’ I said. ‘That’s the best bit. We’re completely alone. AAAAAARRRRRGGGHHH!’

I was getting a sore throat now but felt a lot better. The screaming helped, as did the fact that Amber was here so I’d have an ally in the flat.

‘What have you got to scream about anyway?’ she asked, watching my face. ‘I thought you were all lovey-dovey, happy-ever-after down here?’

‘We were,’ I said. We started walking again, seagulls screeching above our heads as they wheeled and dipped. ‘Until his ex-wife started sending friendly Christmas cards, that is, and then Jake showed up, causing trouble.’

‘Hmmm,’ she said. ‘I don’t like the sound of that.’ Her phone gave a loud trill just then, making us both jump. She looked at the screen and rolled her eyes. ‘I don’t like the sound of that either,’ she said, switching it off and shoving it back in her coat pocket. ‘Bugger off, world. I’ve come here to get away from you.’

‘Was it David?’

‘Yeah, desperate to explain his total shitness again, no doubt. Like that’s going to work. He’s been ringing round the clock, as have my agent and numerous skanky journalists who’ve mysteriously got my phone number. It’s a bloody nightmare, I’m telling you, splitting up with someone famous. Everyone wants to talk to you about it, and all you feel like doing is crawling back to bed for a year.’

I put my arm through hers again. ‘Well, you can hole up here and stay in bed for as long as you want,’ I told her. ‘Jake’ll be all right dossing on the sofa, you can have the spare room.’

‘Are you sure? I don’t want to get in the way.’

I gave a snort. ‘With a bit of luck, it might make him leave a bit quicker. Fingers crossed . . .’

So that made four of us in the flat, with less than a week to go before Christmas. Not exactly the cosy romantic scenario I’d envisaged, but never mind. It would only be for a few more days, wouldn’t it? Amber assured me that she would be spending Christmas with her parents in Lincolnshire and would be gone long before the big day, while Jake . . . Well, Jake was still being annoyingly elusive about his plans and I daren’t ask about them a second time for fear of him twisting my words again and grassing me up to Ed. I daren’t ask Ed either, who seemed very defensive of his younger brother.

Still, he’d better sort something out before the Advent candle burned much lower, that was all I was saying. Everyone knew that while two was company, three was definitely a crowd – particularly when it came to Christmas. Plus, his bad habits were starting to seriously grate on me – and not just the sly digs and comments he was so fond of making. There was the leaving of dirty pants and socks willy-nilly around the living room, where he was now sleeping. (It was not unusual to settle down on the sofa to watch EastEnders to find that you were leaning against a used pair of boxers that had been abandoned there. Not nice.)

Then there was the never washing up problem. The using gallons of my Aveda shampoo in the shower (on his decidedly ordinary, not in need of pricey organic ingredients, hair). There was also the ‘expensive taste but no money’ issue. He hadn’t paid for a thing while he’d been staying, and while Ed didn’t seem to mind bailing him out time and again, it was really getting on my nerves.

I was also increasingly paranoid about Melissa. I caught Ed and Jake deep in furtive conversation one evening and was sure I’d heard her name mentioned. Then there had been a couple of strange calls – one where a woman asked for Ed and promptly put the phone down when I said he wasn’t in, another where the caller hung up as soon as I answered. And on more than one occasion, I’d walked into a room to find Ed talking, low-voiced, into his mobile, only for him to freeze guiltily, then leave the room to continue the call elsewhere. It had to be her. I knew it was. I also knew that asking him about it would only lead to another row.