Everything that is familiar, the things I’ve always loved now seem to be a source of discontentment. I look at the garden and think that it’s in serious need of a revamp. At the weekend, I might pull everything up and start again.
When I eventually haul my reluctant arse indoors, Greg’s in the kitchen.
He doesn’t look up when I walk in, but says, ‘Dinner’s nearly ready. I got home a bit early, so I thought I’d start it. There were some lamb chops in the fridge. I’ve done them with some carrots and new potatoes.’
Then something screeches in my head or maybe I do it out loud. Isn’t this the same conversation we had last week?
My husband shoots me a worried glance when there’s no response from me. ‘That okay?’
I sit down heavily at the kitchen table. ‘No,’ I say. ‘It’s not okay.’
That takes him by surprise.
‘I need to talk to you.’
Now the grill gets an anxious glance. ‘The chops are just about ready.’
‘Turn them off,’ I say. I don’t care if they end up as charcoal discs.
He does as I say and then sits down opposite me. ‘If this is about the Norfolk thing,’ he says, ‘then I’m very sorry. I overreacted. I was thinking about it when I was fishing, and bra and pants aren’t that much different from a bikini really. It was just the way you did it.’
‘I want to go to Peru,’ I blurt out.
Greg’s jaw hits the floor.
‘My colleagues at work are organising a charity trek doing the Inca Trail. Everyone’s going.’ I’m aware that I sound like a petulant child. ‘I want to go too.’
Then Greg starts laughing and it’s not the reaction I expect. Tears roll down his cheeks with hilarity. ‘You?’ he says. ‘Doing the Inca Trail? You can’t walk for five minutes on the flat without getting out of puff.’
‘I admit,’ I retort crisply, ‘that I’ll have to do some training.’
‘You’ll hate it,’ Greg assures me when he has his laughter under control.
‘But I want to try,’ I plead. ‘If I hate it, then at least I’ll know that. I don’t want to let this opportunity go by, to do something different. I feel as if I’m stuck in a dreadful dreadful rut that I can’t climb out of.’
Now Greg stops laughing completely and the smile falls from his face. ‘I didn’t realise that life with me was so awful.’
‘It isn’t.’
My husband stands up. ‘You’ve been acting very strangely lately, Annie,’ he says. ‘I just don’t understand you.’
‘Come with me,’ I beg. ‘I’m sure you could. We should do it together. You might enjoy it. Don’t you ever want to do something crazy?’
‘I don’t need to prove that I’m happy by climbing up a mountain in a foreign country. I’m happy with a beer in front of the television.’
Or a bloody fishing rod in your hand, I think bitterly.
‘I’m frightened that we’re becoming old before our time. I want to do something to make me feel alive. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life never going out of this road, this country. I need some freedom and fun.’
Greg’s face darkens. ‘What you need is to get a grip on yourself, Annie.’
‘Thank you for your support.’
‘How much is this trek going to cost?’
Another sticking point coming on. ‘As it’s for charity, you need to raise two and a half thousand pounds to secure your place.’
Greg laughs again, but it’s clear that he doesn’t find it funny. ‘Two and a half grand?’
‘The company are giving us five hundred pounds to wards it.’
‘That still leaves two grand to find. We haven’t got money like that lying around, Annie. Things are always tight. You know that.’ He runs his fingers through his hair.
I bet if he needed new fishing tackle we’d somehow find the cash.
‘We’ve only got a small amount of savings to our name. I can’t let you squander it on this.’
Squander it?
‘I’m not going to use our precious savings, for goodness’ sake.’
‘Then how on earth do you think that you’re going to pay for it?’
‘I don’t know,’ I admit, head bowed. ‘I haven’t thought it through properly yet.’
Greg snorts. ‘That’s fairly obvious.’ Then he heads to the door. ‘I’m going fishing.’
‘Let’s talk about this some more,’ I entreat to his back. ‘I’d really love to do it together.’
Another snort.
‘What about dinner?’ I shout out.
‘I’ve lost my appetite,’ Greg says, and then he bangs out of the door.
I sink to the table, head in hands. That went well, I think.
Chapter 27
It was always so peaceful by the canal. Six hours of fishing flew by in what felt like a single hour. Sometimes Greg could just focus on the gentle movement of his float on the water and completely forget about everything else.
Today, it was proving more difficult. And it wasn’t simply down to the fact that Ray was unable to keep his mouth shut for five minutes.
‘If I was Prime Minister,’ Ray began, as he cast out again, ‘I’d never go into the Euro. It’s all right for those foreigners. Very handy when you’re going on holiday. But we certainly don’t want it here. No, no, no.’
Greg kept his eyes on his float. ‘Annie wants to go to Peru.’
Ray’s head snapped up. ‘Do what?’ he said.
‘Peru.’
‘They don’t use the Euro there.’
‘No.’ Greg didn’t know what currency they used. He didn’t know much about Peru at all. ‘She wants adventure.’
‘Skinny-dipping in Norfolk not enough eh?’
Greg shook his head.
‘I take it that you don’t want to experience all the sights and sounds that South America has to offer, Gregor?’
How could he tell his friend that the very thought of it terrified him? He didn’t want adventure. He preferred things exactly the way they were. He liked his home. He liked this country. Why would he want to go anywhere else? All the excitement he ever needed was right here on the canal. What got his heart racing was landing a nice fat chubb or an unexpected bream.
‘What should I do?’
‘This is the thin end of the wedge,’ Ray warned. ‘Next thing, she’ll be wanting to try strange sexual positions. Then it will be dancing lessons.’
Dancing lessons?
‘Remember Sandy Whitman? We used to bump into him down here sometimes.’
Greg nodded. Sandy was a sixteen-stone brickie who was a demon with a carp rod.
‘Salsa dancing – three nights a week. Never been here since. Rod’s gathering dust in the garage.’ Ray shook his head ruefully. ‘Mind, he has lost three stone. But what a way to go.’
‘It’s for charity. A trip with colleagues from work.’
‘Even worse, matey,’ Ray shrugged but failed to explain why. ‘You need to nip this in the bud before it gets out of hand.’
Then the end of Greg’s fishing rod quivered and dipped. The reel sang out: he’d got a bite. Quick as a flash, he whipped up the rod and started to reel the fish in. He caught a glimpse of it as it came closer. The enticing golden flanks of a perch.
It was a reliable fish, a perch. You always knew where you were with them.
Then, all of a sudden, the line went slack and Greg’s heart sank as he found he was reeling in nothing but a piece of weed. His bait was gone. The fish had slipped away from him and he had a feeling that his wife was doing the same thing.
Chapter 28
Jude arrived at the office shortly after Lauren did and before anyone else.
He crouched down next to her desk and rested his head on his hands. ‘Sorry,’ he said, looking up at her with sad eyes. ‘That was so thoughtless of me.’
‘Yes, it was.’
‘I’ve been frantic all weekend.’
‘Not frantic enough to phone me.’
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‘I couldn’t get away,’ Jude said. ‘Not for a minute. Georgia was watching me like a hawk.’ He walked his fingers towards her hand and took it. ‘All I wanted was to be with you.’
Despite her vow to toughen up, harden her heart, Lauren could feel herself weakening.
‘Every minute I was there with Georgia, I was thinking of you, darling. You know that.’
‘I can’t go on like this, Jude. It’s horrible to everyone concerned.’
‘I know, I know. And I need to sort it. I’m going down to Brighton this afternoon on business. I’m planning to set up a team for Happening Today down there. Come with me. I’ve booked a lovely hotel on the seafront – we can stay there tonight and travel back tomorrow together. That’ll give us a chance to talk.’ He glanced round the office. People were starting to arrive in dribs and drabs. He let go of her hand. ‘We can’t get five minutes’ peace here.’
‘What will people say?’
‘I’m the boss,’ he expounded. ‘I can give you the afternoon off if I want to.’
Lauren giggled. She loved him when he was like this, reckless and spontaneous.
‘Say yes,’ he implored. His fingertips tugged playfully at the sleeve of her blouse. ‘I can’t last the week without you.’
‘Don’t complain if the revenue figures are down on Friday.’
‘It’s the last thing I’d do,’ he promised as he stood, deal done. He winked at her as he went to his own office.
Her heart was still pounding in her chest when Zak came in and put a takeaway coffee down on her desk. ‘Because the lady loves her latte,’ he drawled seductively.
‘Thanks, Zak.’ She smiled up at him.
‘I bought a skinny lemon muffin too.’ He plonked a brown bag down on her desk. ‘Now that I’ve spent the weekend with you, I realise that you really don’t eat.’
‘I had a lovely time,’ she said honestly. They’d hung out together for the rest of the weekend after the Friday Night Disaster. Nothing too drastic. They’d had a walk on Hampstead Heath, gone to the pub in the evening. On Sunday they’d wandered round Camden Market together and had eaten noodles outside a cheap Chinese place in the sunshine. It was just relaxed. Zak didn’t try to hold her hand or jump her bones. He was cool.
‘I’m thinking of going to the cinema later in the week. That new Tarantino is showing. Fancy it?’
It was one thing having some fun with Zak when they were both at a loose end at a weekend, but this felt more like fixing up a date. ‘Not really my thing,’ Lauren lied. ‘Maybe another time.’
Zak shrugged. ‘Catch you later, then.’
‘Sure. And thanks for the breakfast.’
Lauren sipped at her coffee and smiled. A trip to Brighton with Jude. What a great way to start the week.
Chapter 29
I put on my trendiest top and trousers and head off to All Bar One for the planning meeting about the proposed Peru trip.
Greg hasn’t yet returned from work. I’d have liked to discuss this further with him before I went out. I want him to support me, to encourage me, maybe even to come with me – but it looks like it’s not to be.
Tonight it’s raining and parking in the city is a complete nightmare. I trail round for nearly fifteen minutes looking for a vacant space. To be honest, I nearly give up at one point and go straight home. So much for being up for a challenge!
Eventually, I find a spot, throw the car in and scuttle to the bar under my umbrella. All Bar One isn’t too busy as it’s a wet and miserable Monday night, but it seems that everyone else from the office is already here. They’re sitting in a cosy huddle round a group of sofas, itineraries spread out on the low coffee-tables between them.
Several of my colleagues turn when I approach, umbrella dripping on the floor. I stand there shivering and uncertain.
‘Is there room for one more?’ I say nervously.
‘On the sofa or on the trip to Peru?’ Blake Chadwick challenges.
‘Both.’
A cheer goes up and the girls jump up and come to hug me and haul me round in a happy dance. Minny comes over and gives me a kiss. ‘We’ll have great fun, Annie. It’ll be fab. You wait and see.’
They all budge up and I squeeze on to the sofa with them. Blake Chadwick pours me a glass of wine and hands it over, giving me a wink. ‘Nice one, Sexy.’
Shaking, I take the glass. I’ve said it. I’ve said it out loud. There’s no going back now.
I’m going to Peru.
While I shake and shiver and sip my Shiraz, Sarah Bennett runs through the practicalities of our expedition, but I barely hear her I’m still so shocked by my momentous decision. I have to call Lauren just as soon as I can.
Our trip takes us into Lima, out to the Nazca Lines, then into the Atacama Desert – all of the places I’ve been dreaming about from my travel guide. Then we move on to Arequipa, the Colca Canyon, Cusco and Lake Titicaca. When we’ve had time to acclimatise to the thin air of the Peruvian Andes, the second of our two weeks is spent hiking the Inca Trail through the ruins of Llactapata, Sayaqmarka, Puyupatamarka, Wiñay Wayna and up, up, up, up, up to the magnificent pinnacle, the lost city of Machu Picchu!
The names, exotic, unfamiliar, sing in my head. Sarah talks about the practical aspects of our trips – the equipment we’ll need, the money side of things. But already I’m lost in the mountains of Peru. I can see myself swathed in a traditional poncho, striding along the ancient pathways of the Incas, breathing in the rarefied air, taking in the vast, expansive landscape. I’ll be an explorer, an adventurer, treading the historic trails of ancient people.
Then Blake Chadwick stands up and I switch back to the present. ‘I suggest that we all do some training before we go as it’s quite a tough hike. I’m planning to go running three times a week around Furzton Lake,’ he says. ‘It’s a circuit of about a mile and you’re all welcome to join me.’
Training, I think. I need to do training. Lots of it. ‘I’d like to do that,’ I say to BC when he sits down.
‘I’ll be there from tomorrow,’ he tells me. ‘See you there straight after work, Sexy?’
I nod. It’s years since I’ve done any running. Years since I’ve done any proper exercise, to be honest. Unless you count opening packets of Revels as exercise. I should be panicking but I can’t keep the silly smile off my face.
I’ve done it. I’m going. No looking back. This is the start of the rest of my life. This is the new intrepid me. Let the adventure begin!
All I need to do is raise the money. And, of course, tell Greg.
Chapter 30
The hotel was beautiful. Lauren had to hand it to him, Jude had exquisite taste when it came to booking the perfect destinations for romantic trysts.
They’d quickly collected an overnight bag from her flat before driving down to Brighton. She’d thought that they might find a few moments to talk about their situation in the car on the way down, but Jude had been forced to spend most of his time on the phone sorting out a problem back in the office. So she’d dozed and listened to the radio and planned their future together by herself.
Now he was at his meeting. He’d booked her a treatment package in the hotel’s luxurious spa and she’d enjoyed a relaxing facial, a back massage and a pedicure which had taken up most of the afternoon.
Lauren checked her watch. Jude had said that the meeting wouldn’t take long and it was five o’clock already. Soon he’d be back.
The room was just so chic. The vast king-size bed was upholstered with black plush velvet, as was the chaise longue at its foot. Two black leather chesterfield sofas flanked the grey marble fireplace, while the walls were covered in a silver-grey metallic paper matched by the thick carpet. The view of the sea was magnificent and the sun sparkled on the water.
She felt mellow, warm and very loved. This is how it would be when they were married, when she was the next Mrs Taylor. In the grey marble bathroom, Lauren took off her fluffy dressing-gown. When packing, she’d taken care
to include some of Jude’s favourite underwear. It was a set he’d bought her from Agent Provocateur at Christmas – though being tied by family duties over the holiday period, it had been days before she’d been able to wear them for him.
Now they had hours stretching ahead of them. Maybe they could make love before going down for dinner. The thought thrilled through her. So she slid the underwear over her skin. Small, black lacy bra, French-cut briefs, a matching suspender belt and stockings. To complete the look, she stepped into her black-patent high heels. Obvious, but very effective.
Lauren had already ordered a bottle of champagne from room service and it was now chilling nicely in an ice-bucket. She decided against the dressing-gown. Let Jude find her just like this. He was an Alpha male – he’d like that.
She opened the champagne, poured herself a glass and reclined on the bed, striking a pose. Half an hour and another couple of glasses later, and Jude finally came through the door.
‘Sorry, I’ve been longer than I planned,’ he said. ‘My God, look at you.’ His eyes travelled over her. ‘You’re stunning.’
He threw down his briefcase and loosened his tie before coming over to the bed. His mouth found hers and he kissed her deeply. The now familiar bolt of electricity shot through her, but every time the power of it amazed her. She knew that Jude felt it too. Perhaps that’s what kept him coming back for more.
Lauren broke away from him. ‘Here.’ She poured him a glass of champagne.
‘Hmm. I need this,’ Jude said. ‘But not as much as I need you.’ He pulled down her bra, exposing her breasts, then he drank deeply from his champagne and covered her with his mouth. The chilled bubbles danced on her nipples and Lauren threw her head back, gasping.
Then Jude’s mobile rang.
‘Let it ring,’ she begged.
Her lover frowned. ‘Can’t,’ he said. ‘It’s home.’ The precaution of a married man with a mistress – a different ring tone for every aspect of his life.
Lauren flopped back on the bed and pulled her bra back into place.