Читать книгу Meet Me at Pebble Beach - Bella Osborne - Страница 10

Regan watched the police officer picking up her scattered items and returning them to the box. It was like watching someone else’s life scattered across the pavement – fragments of her minor achievements that had now been rendered completely useless by Alex’s practical joke.

‘Come on, let me buy you a coffee,’ said the officer, standing up.

Her whole body was trembling with shock. She watched Alex scramble out of the revolving door into the safety of the lobby and speak to the security guard. He still looked scared but he was telling the guard he was all right. She wanted to kill him. She’d never felt like that in her life before. She hadn’t known she was capable, but right now she wanted to do Alex serious harm.

The police officer took hold of her arm. ‘Come on,’ he said, giving her a tug to make her walk. She reluctantly dragged her glare away from Alex and walked in step.

Regan was in a daze. Her life was ruined. Everything wiped out. And for what? Payback? A laugh? She turned on her heel and began heading back to the office.

‘I am going to kill Alex.’ It was the only solution.

‘Hang on,’ said the copper, with a firm grip on her arm, making her swivel round. He was surprisingly strong. ‘You’re looking at an actual bodily harm charge. He’s not worth it.’

‘He’s worth doing time for murder,’ said Regan, wrenching back her arm in frustration.

‘I tell you what: seems like you need something stronger than a coffee, so I’ll buy you a drink. You tell me exactly what’s happened. And if you still feel the same, I’ll hold him still for you. Deal?’ He gave her a cheeky grin. If her world hadn’t just imploded she’d have found it cute, but right now it was simply annoying. ‘I’m Charlie, by the way.’

‘Regan,’ she said.

‘From King Lear?’

She frowned. Had there been a recent adaptation on the telly or something? ‘Yeah. That’s right.’ It wrong-footed her enough that she stopped resisting and found herself being towed along by Charlie, who was still gripping her hand.

In a nearby bar she regaled him with the whole sorry story, accompanied by animated arm-waving for full effect. When she reached the end she felt like she’d hit the bottom of a well.

‘What can you charge him with?’ she asked, hopefully.

Charlie pursed his lips and shook his head. ‘I’m pretty sure there’s nothing he could be charged with. He’s done nothing against the law.’

‘But …’ her voice faded. She knew he was right. ‘It’ll be all round the office by now.’ She cringed at the thought of the water cooler gossip.

‘He may keep it to himself.’

‘That’s not how offices work. It’ll be the biggest thing since Chris got a beard trimmer in the secret Santa draw.’

‘Didn’t he like it?’

‘No, she didn’t.’ Regan stared at the small glass of brandy and large coffee Charlie had bought her.

‘Life has a funny way of making you look at things differently.’ He leaned forward a little.

‘Oh yeah. It’s shitting well hilarious.’ She shook her head. This guy was no help. Regan downed the brandy and when it hit the back of her throat she grimaced. She noted the slight tremor was still there in her hand as she returned the glass to the table.

‘You might not see it now, but this might end up being the best thing that’s ever happened to you.’ Yep, this guy was nuts.

‘Charlie, I’m sure you are a well-meaning person, and I guess looking out for members of the public is your job, but I fail to see how losing literally everything in approximately ten minutes could be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.’

She picked up her coffee, appraising Charlie over the rim. If she hadn’t felt so miserable she would have been far more appreciative of his easy good looks and stubble-swathed jawline. He was having a rummage in the old printer paper box, which now contained everything Regan had left in the world. He pulled out her lottery wish list and managed to give it a quick scan before she hastily snatched it off him.

‘I saw this when I picked up your things. There’s some life-changing stuff on this list. What’s stopping you doing those things anyway?’ he asked.

‘Erm. Oh, let me see,’ she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘The lack of ten million quid for a start.’ Just saying the amount out loud made her feel sick. She’d lost ten million pounds. She couldn’t imagine anyone else on the planet had lost so much money in such a short space of time. A little voice in her head unhelpfully pointed out that she’d never actually had any winnings, but that wasn’t the point; she had genuinely thought she’d won the money – and now every single penny was gone.

‘You don’t need money to enjoy yourself,’ said Charlie, taking a long sip of his coffee.

Regan was too tired to argue. Her whole body was fatigued. She wanted to curl up in a ball, but she wasn’t going to do that in front of a complete stranger – she still had her pride, if nothing else. ‘I need to get back to my car. And then …’ Then what? She stared at Charlie.

‘Is there a friend or a family member who could be with you?’

Cleo sprang into Regan’s head, but she was thousands of miles away living her hashtag-best-life. A life Regan had thought she was about to share. Next, she thought of her dad. She didn’t want to bother him; but what choice did she have?

‘I’ll drive over to my dad’s.’

‘I can give you a lift.’

‘No, don’t worry. Turning up in a cop car is the last thing I need.’ She forced a brief smile.

Charlie’s forehead puckered for a second, and then it was gone. ‘I’m off duty. No cop car. You promise you won’t go after that Alex guy?’

‘I promise,’ she said, begrudgingly. She finished her coffee. ‘I should get going.’ She had absolutely no need to get going – other than that she needed a bloody good mope away from this kind stranger.

‘Sure thing. Look …’ He opened his wallet and pulled out a card. He took a pen from her box and wrote his name and mobile number on the back. ‘This is a group that might interest you. Help you focus on the here and now and what’s good about it.’

Regan read the card. ‘Mantra – mindfulness for beginners? It’s a full mind I’m suffering from – it’s full of how quickly my life has turned to shit.’ She could see he was trying to help. ‘But thanks. I’ll think about it.’

‘No, you won’t,’ said Charlie, which was unexpected.

Regan narrowed her eyes at him. ‘I might.’ She was feeling dogmatic.

‘We’ll see. Anyway …’ he got to his feet. ‘Nice to meet you, Regan. Take care of yourself.’ He held out a hand to shake.

The odd formality of it made her smile. ‘You too, Charlie. Thanks for not arresting me back there.’

‘What? Oh, my pleasure.’

She watched him leave. The feeling of being totally alone swamped her and she quickly picked up her box and left.

Regan hurried through town clutching her belongings like her life depended on it. When she reached the market, it was in full swing: stallholders shouting out the day’s best bargains; elbows out enabling others to get to the front; busy people swerving in and out on their way to somewhere important. The burger van hissed as a fresh batch went on the griddle and a chill wind blew through the stalls, making all the coverings slap about wildly. Everyone and everything had a purpose. Apart from her. She was surrounded by bedlam and yet she’d never felt more alone in her life.

Regan wasn’t sure if it was the brandy, but her head started to swim. The noise, the bustle and the smell were all too much. She was going to pass out. She reached for a stall, but she wasn’t close enough. Her legs buckled and she dropped her box, but someone grabbed her securely around her waist and kept her upright. She shook her head to clear it.

‘You’re not well. You need coffee,’ said a kind voice.

‘Kevin?’

She was about to protest but the feel of something wiry under her fingers pulled her concentration. Elvis was standing the other side of her, his head under her hand. He looked up, his sad eyes appearing concerned.

Kevin and Elvis guided her out of the main thoroughfare and to the Hug In A Mug coffee shop. Kevin took her inside.

‘Customer,’ he called. ‘You’ll be all right now,’ he said, and he scuttled out of the door before Penny appeared.

‘Hey, what’s happened to you?’ asked Penny, coming from behind the counter. Regan didn’t know where to start: from nowhere, the tears started to pour. She had always been irritated by crying – in her mind it served no good purpose. She didn’t believe those people who said you’d feel better after a good cry. It made your face blotchy and your nose run and quite often it gave you a thumping great headache to make you even more miserable.

‘Sorry, no tissues.’ Penny offered Regan a bundle of serviettes instead, which she took gratefully. ‘I’ll get you a coffee and you can tell me all about it.’

Regan took a moment to pull herself together while Penny made her a coffee and left the other waitress to field the couple of customers who had come in. ‘Here,’ said Penny, handing Regan a cup and pulling up a chair.

A loud bang on the glass right behind Regan’s head made her almost jump off her seat. She spun around and came face to hairy face with Elvis. Kevin popped his head round the coffee shop door, pushed Regan’s box inside and gave her a tentative thumbs-up. ‘You okay?’ he asked.

Despite everything, she couldn’t stop the smile appearing. She responded with a thumbs-up and Kevin beamed back at her. Kevin really did have nothing and no-one, and yet he was still able to smile. It touched her that he’d come to her rescue and gone back to pick up her box, which she’d all but forgotten about. Penny opened her mouth but Kevin took the hint before she said anything and retreated outside to join his dog.

Penny was lovely, but Regan didn’t want to spill out the whole story again. What good would it do? The more she went over it the more stupid it made her feel. What an idiot to have been taken in by such a moronic prank. She waited until she felt a little better, thanked Penny and headed off.

Hugging her old paper box to her chest, Regan tapped on the glass of her dad’s front door. She’d taken some time in the coffee shop to order her thoughts and calm herself down. More than anything it had been an almighty shock – one that it would probably take her a while to recover from – and in the meantime she needed a roof over her head. She knew she could go back to Jarvis’s flat, but as he hadn’t called or messaged her since their earlier conversation, he obviously wasn’t desperate to have her back; plus she didn’t like the idea of using him just because things had gone spectacularly wrong, and if she went back now that would be all she was doing. She also had a large dose of stubborn pride that was stopping her: that, and the thought of having to put her tail between her legs and admit she’d messed up again – no, she couldn’t go back to Jarvis’s. The sentiment that had underpinned her decision to end their relationship was the right one, although the timing could have been so much better. They had been treading water for a while and, whilst this approach was most definitely more akin to ripping off the plaster rather than soaking it off gently, it was still the right thing to do.

The chill of the April breeze made her shiver. She took a deep breath and tapped on the door again. She could see movement through the opaque glass.

‘Who is it?’ Her father sounded annoyed.

‘It’s me, Dad.’ He opened the door and hastily beckoned her inside. He was wearing his dressing gown but had socks on his feet. It was an odd combination for the middle of a Monday afternoon – or at any time, come to that. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Er, yeah. I’m fine. What can I do for you?’ He tightened his dressing gown cord and hovered near the door. Her father lived in the same one-bedroom maisonette that he had bought after her mother had left him and taken everything (except Regan) with her.

Regan balanced her box on the back of his sofa. ‘I’d kind of like to stay if I can?’

Her father’s eyes widened. ‘What? Here?’

It wasn’t the welcome she’d hoped for. ‘If that’s all right.’ It was feeling very much like it wasn’t all right at all. She knew she’d be on the sofa, but that’d be fine for a few nights while she licked her wounds and sorted a few things out.

‘Have you had a row with Jarvis? Because I’m sure you can sort that out.’ Graham adjusted his dressing gown again whilst his eyes darted about. There was definitely something wrong.

‘Not exactly, but—’

A noise from the bedroom stopped her mid-sentence. She turned to listen, and then turned back to her father. He was biting his lip. ‘Is there someone else here?’

He nodded sheepishly. ‘Tara just popped round …’ He broke eye contact and Regan surveyed her father’s attire afresh.

Tarty Tara was there. Regan knew exactly what she’d popped round for. She suddenly had a horrible thought that under his dressing gown he was probably not wearing anything at all. She almost knocked her box to the floor in her haste to snatch it up. ‘Oh, I’ve just remembered something.’ She lurched for the door, desperate to escape before embarrassment ate them both alive.

‘Right. Okay then,’ Graham called after her, enthusiastically. ‘If you’re sure?’

‘Yes. Certain. I’ll be fine.’

‘Maybe next time give me a call first?’ he said, hiding behind the door as he opened it for her.

‘Yes. Good idea. Thanks. Bye.’ Something made her pause. She leaned round the door and kissed his cheek. ‘Love you, Dad.’

‘Um, yes. You too, Regan.’ He gave her an awkward smile before closing the door. She heard hysterical laughter erupt behind the glass and rolled her eyes at them behaving like teenagers.

That was her only family member in a fifty-mile radius. Now what?