‘You won't forget now will you dear?’ His big green eyes stare up at me with serious hope.
‘Of course not. Betsy, the terrapin, gotcha.’
I throw his hands off me and start running, but she’s nowhere to be seen. I run further down the high street wondering if they’ve found a little hotel to have their rendezvous at. Maybe they meet up so regularly that they’ve gone as far as to rent a small studio and it's filled with paintings full of their naked bodies.
But then I see them. Kissing each other goodbye, as if it's the last time they’re ever going to see each other. I feel a stab in my chest, my heart. How could she be doing this to Richard? He loves her so much, but she doesn’t love him. It's pretty clear that she is madly, deeply and unconditionally in love with Cheryl’s husband.
He walks away and blows her a kiss while I try to catch my breath. What a whore. She opens the glass door of the offices and goes in. I watch her with contempt. It's only after a few minutes that I realise she’s just gone into a divorce lawyers.
* * *
When I get back to the flat it's 7.30pm and I’m starving. I go into the sitting room to find all of my furniture re-arranged. The fact that it actually looks better is irrelevant. I still shoot Jazz an irritated look.
‘Hey Chick, you OK?’ she smiles, completely ignoring my annoyance.
‘Yeah, but I’m starving,’ I moan as I throw myself on the sofa.
‘Me too! What are you gonna make us?’
‘Why does it always have to be me?’ I complain, but the truth is that I secretly love it.
I walk into the kitchen, Jazz following, and start inspecting the fridge contents. We’ve only got a few eggs and peppers.
‘Omelette it is then,’ I say under my breath. ‘What time are we supposed to be going to Nobo? It’s late now.’
God, I hope she changes her mind.
‘Oh yeah, did you make a friend?’
‘Sort of, but I doubt she’ll be meeting us there.’
‘Thank God!’ she exclaims. ‘I don’t fancy it. This working full time shit is hard work.’
‘Thank God. Anyway Jazz, I kind of need a favour,’ I say carefully.
‘Really? What?’ she asks, her small grey eyes lighting up in excitement.
‘It's kind of a long story but...can you pretend you want to buy a flat and put a fake offer in?’
She stares back at me completely puzzled. ‘Why on earth would I do that?’
Because I want to make it so that Lilly can't buy the flat so she won't be in complete financial ruin.
‘Like I said, I can't tell you. Can you do it?’
‘Yeah, suppose,’ she says, already losing interest in the conversation.
That's my girl.
The front door slams, making us both jump. We freeze and stare at each other as men’s footsteps come closer and closer.
‘Hey Po Po,’ Ollie sings, sticking his head round the door. ‘Ooh, omelette. Go on then!’
I mutter under my breath, but crack another few eggs.
‘How did you even get in? I thought I took your key away from you?’
‘Yeah,’ he smiles. ‘I had another one cut.’
‘Well that might have been OK when it was just me, but Jazz is here at the moment. You can't just walk in unannounced. She could be naked!’
They both go red and smile at each other.
‘Yeah, that kind of happened the other day,’ Ollie explains, smiling cheekily at Jazz.
‘Oh my God, Ollie!’ I shout, hitting him with my spatula. ‘I’m so sorry Jazz.’
‘Don't worry,’ she smiles, putting her hand on her hip and sticking her chest out proudly. ‘I’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about.’
‘You’re right there,’ Ollie says, shamelessly checking her out.
‘Ollie!’ I shout, horrified.
What the hell is going on with them?
‘Anyway,’ Ollie says, turning to Jazz, ‘I wondered if you wanted to come to Leicester with me.’ He looks down a little sheepishly. ‘You know, just so I don't have to go alone.’
‘Oh,’ Jazz says, seeming taken aback. ‘Yeah....cool. When?’
‘Wednesday. I’ll text you about it.’ He looks at me as if my being here is terribly inconvenient.
I grab the tweezers and start attacking him playfully with them.
‘I know you just want her there so you can bang her!’ I say as I attack him.
‘Shut up,’ he says, shoving me so hard I fall into the cupboard. Shit, my elbow!
What is going on with these two? Why has Jazz even agreed to go along? I thought she was happy with Jake. I really hope she doesn’t ruin it because of Ollie. Of all people my dumbass brother Ollie.
‘So anyway,’ Jazz says, turning to me, her cheeks unusually flushed. ‘How did the spying go?’
I dig her in the ribs, having not told Ollie about my little adventure. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to. He looks back at me accusingly, instantly knowing that I’m keeping a secret.
‘Ok!’ I shout, throwing my hands up in defence. ‘I’ve got something to tell you about Annabel, but you have to promise not to tell Richard....or anyone for that matter.’
‘Yeah,’ he smiles, leaning eagerly in like an old lady leaning over the fence for the morning gossip.
‘She’s....well, she’s....’ I lower my voice to a whisper. ‘Having an affair.’
‘Why the hell are you whispering?’ Jazz shouts.
Ollie leans back against the worktop and purses his lips together.
‘I thought as much,’ he muses to himself.
‘What? You thought as much? Why didn’t you fucking say?’
‘Dunno,’ he shrugs. ‘Just a few things Richard mentioned. Well, a few things he’d said to Henry. You know how those two are close.’
I nod knowingly. Those two have always been thick as thieves. It's like Richard almost resents me and Ollie for being the youngest. Feels we got more than he did, which is ridiculous. Ollie and I were in the smaller room in bunk beds until we were eleven and thirteen, when Dad built the loft extension.
‘So what did he say?’
‘Just a few things,’ Ollie shrugs. ‘That she’s been really distant lately and that's why he suggested they try for a baby. He thinks she’s just a bit bored and wants to feel more involved. That's why he’s signing her onto the business too.’
‘Business? What are you talking about?’
‘Yeah, she’s going to become a partner.’
He has to be joking. She’s expecting to become a partner in my Dad’s business, the business that he spent years building up.
My Dad owns a very small building company called Windsor & Sons which he started up when he was just twenty two and penniless. The story goes that he’d started labouring at sixteen and had worked for the same slave-driver of a boss for years. He was desperate to start out on his own and be his own boss, but never had the guts or the money behind him. When he married my Mum and she quickly became pregnant with Richard he realised money was going to be tight. He asked for time off to go with her to the first baby scan, and when his boss refused he says he saw red. He couldn’t bear the thought of missing out on his first child’s scan and told him where to stick his job. It was only when they were living off baked beans in their bedsit later that night that he realised what a giant mistake he’d made. He pleaded with the boss to take him back, but he refused.
He took a part time job in McDonalds and said he honestly didn’t know how he was going to afford to raise a child. But one night he received a letter telling him that his father, who he’d never known, had died and could he call them to find out what he had inherited. He only expected to inherit debt, so delayed calling for a while. When he eventually got round to calling them they explained that he’d inherited two grand! Two grand to him might as well have been a million. He used the money to set himself up with tools and equipment and the rest is history. He now employs ten men, plus Richard. Ollie occasionally works for him, when he can be bothered to get off his back side.
And she’s expecting to inherit all of that? Then the images of the divorce office flash in my head. Wait a minute. If she signs as joint partner with Richard and Dad, but then files for divorce she could demand a third of the business. They might have to pay her thousands of pounds to get out of it. My lovely Dad could lose everything he’s ever worked for because of some silly little slut who can't keep her legs closed.
‘She can't become partner! She’s planning to divorce him!’
‘Divorce?’ he asks, horrified. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes! Look, we have to stop her! Talk some bloody sense into him.’
‘OK, OK,’ he says, his face looking hassled. ‘Let’s just go to a bar and talk through it, OK?’
* * *
An hour later we’re in the local wine bar knocking back glasses as if our lives depend on it.
‘So anyway, you’re going on a road trip with my brother? Why?’
Jazz avoids my gaze, pretending to look around the bar.
‘He just said that he doesn’t want to drive up alone and I might as well.’
‘He totally wants to shag you.’ I sigh heavily at the mere thought of it.
‘No he doesn’t! We’re just going as friends,’ she says, trying to hide a smile.