Читать книгу Just The Way You Are - Lynsey James - Страница 11

Chapter 4

A text from Max was all it took for me not to cancel The Dog and Duck after work that night. After the day I’d had, I decided I’d more than earned a few glasses (bottles) of wine.

The Dog and Duck was an amazing little pub carved into the corner of a street in central Manchester. It was a slice of olde-worlde heaven with a large roaring fire and rustic oak beams; a sharp contrast to the ultra-trendy bars dotted around the city centre. My two best friends and I had met there various times during our decades of friendship. Exam results, crushes, break-ups and everything in between had been discussed within its cosy brown walls.

It was there, less than fifteen minutes later, that I found Gwen, Max and Amira waiting for me.

‘How’d it go today then, Munchkin?’ Max asked, getting up to greet me with a pat on the back. ‘Are you Sleek’s next top dating columnist?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ I answered. ‘I… er… may or may not have thrown up before I could do my pitch. Stupid fear of public speaking!’

‘Oh Munchkin.’ Max’s voice was low and sad. ‘Never mind, I’m sure they’ve got an amazing job lined up for you.’

He enveloped me in one of his signature bear hugs. Out the corner of my eye, I was sure I saw Amira’s shoulders tense as she sat in the cramped little booth. When I looked over at her, she mustered a polite smile then returned to her drink.

‘What’s this I hear about amazing jobs?’ Gwen tottered over in her ridiculously high heels and eyed me hopefully.

‘Well I didn’t get the job I went for,’ I said as we walked to the booth. ‘But never mind eh, I don’t fancy dwelling on it.’

‘Who did?’ Gwen asked. Obviously me saying I didn’t want to dwell on it had completely passed her by.

‘Maddie McQueen, who’d you think?’ I replied with a shrug. that I hoped would mask how I truly felt.

‘No flipping way! What does she know about dating; she probably has to put her number in phone boxes to get anyone interested!’

Max and I exchanged smiles; Gwen had struck again.

‘Anyway, like I said, I don’t want to talk about it. Anyone fancy a drink?’

I slid out of the booth at the same time Max did.

‘It’s my round; I’ve got this. You sit down, it’s been a horrible day for you.’

He smiled before walking across to the timber-framed bar. Almost every woman in the pub had their eyes on him and, although I’d never personally been attracted to him, it wasn’t hard to see why most women were. His striking looks that came from being half-Indian, half-English coupled with an effortless charm and a wicked sense of humour could make any self-respecting woman fall at his feet.

‘I’d better go and help him. Back in a sec,’ said Gwen.

Amira turned to face me, her features slightly stiff. She was fiercely beautiful, but the coldness in her almond eyes and pursed lips gave her face a harsh quality.

‘Not often we get the chance to be alone together is it?’ she asked with an icy smile. I got the feeling she was a tigress and I was the gazelle she wanted to have for lunch.

‘No,’ I agreed. ‘Max is usually always here isn’t he? So what have you…’

‘Listen up because I’m only going to say this once.’ Amira’s sharp voice cut across mine, bringing my sentence to an abrupt halt. ‘I know you and Max have this buddy-buddy thing going on but just remember who his girlfriend is, OK? If I see you hugging him, touching him or even fluttering your eyelashes in his direction, you’ll regret it. When it comes to my man, I don’t play nice.’

‘Amira, there’s nothing going on between me and Max! We’ve been friends forever but that’s it. If I give him a hug or hit him on the arm, I’m not flirting with him; it’s just part of our banter. I can assure you, you’ve got nothing to worry about.’

She scoffed loudly and looked me up and down. ‘Oh I know I don’t, but thanks anyway! Just do me a favour and keep your hands off him; he’s mine, not yours.’

‘Listen I–’

My attempt to defend myself was sharply interrupted by Max and Gwen returning with our drinks. Amira flashed me a nasty smirk before lavishing attention on her boyfriend.

‘Come here, you.’

She pulled him in and kissed him passionately on the lips.

‘Whoa, what was that for?’ He chuckled softly and wiped traces of her lipstick from his mouth.

‘I just happen to find you irresistible, that’s not a problem is it?’ she purred.

She edged closer to him and began whispering in his ear.

‘Hey you, behave yourself!’ Max laughed and picked up his pint. A noticeable blush had crept into his caramel skin.

I found myself squirming in my seat as I watched her wrap her arms around his stomach. I knew how much he valued his personal space. Gently, he extracted himself from her grip and turned his focus towards me.

‘So what’s your new job then?’

Bollocks. That was the very question I’d wanted to avoid.

‘I’m the new wedding reporter.’

Max’s eyebrows furrowed. ‘You’re what? But you hate weddings.’

‘Don’t remind me! I’ve watched my mum get married then divorced enough times; I don’t fancy doing the same for everyone in Manchester!’ I groaned and let my head sink onto the table. ‘I’m going to be surrounded by white frilly dresses and wedding cakes for the rest of my journalistic career, aren’t I?! Whenever someone asks me something, I’ll only be able to answer with lyrics from Show Me Heaven or The Power of Love! On the bright side, I’m getting to write an article on an unusual love story for the Valentine’s issue. Maddie’s doing one too and Paddy’s going to choose his favourite to put on the cover.’

‘There you are then, you’ll write an amazing story and blow their socks off,’ said Gwen, patting me on the shoulder to make me sit up. ‘This wedding reporting might not be so bad, you know. You might cop off with a hunky best man or usher!’

‘Is it me or are you obsessed with best men and ushers?’ I grinned and pushed her shoulder playfully. ‘Did you ever hear from Grey Waistcoat Guy again?’

Certainly have! She winked and gave a riumphant grin before taking a swig of her wine. ‘His name’s Tom and he’s an investment broker. We’ve been texting loads and I’m going back to his after this actually. I always knew it was a good idea to wear matching underwear!’ ’

As I watched Gwen float on her little cloud of bliss, I felt a pang of jealousy. Much as I loved seeing her happy, I couldn’t help feeling that I was missing out on the happiness my two best friends were experiencing. Could it be that love wasn’t as toe-curlingly awful as I thought?

By the end of the night, my friends had almost convinced me that wedding reporting could be fun. They’d pointed out the copious amounts of free food and cake, the potential for meeting the “love of my life” (yeah right) and that I might find my unusual love story there. Although it was my idea of hell – after all, I’d been to more weddings in twenty-six years than some went to in their whole life – maybe it was best to at least try and have some fun with it.

At around midnight, Max and I guided a very drunk Gwen over the cobbles to catch a taxi to Tom’s chic Deansgate apartment.

‘You are gonna be the best wedding reporter that ever lived, missy!’ she slurred. ‘We’ll talk about how amazing you are tomorrow. Until then, I thank you!’

She took a theatrical bow and almost stumbled over in her bright blue high heels. Max grabbed her before she went headfirst onto the cobbles below.

‘Time for you to go home I think,’ he said with a chuckle.

He helped her over to a waiting taxi, gave the driver a twenty-pound note then made his way back over to me, shaking his head and smiling. We took a seat on the cute little bench outside the pub, blowing hot air into our cupped hands to keep them warm. Another taxi would be along in a minute and we could share it home.

I remembered the letter still sitting at the bottom of my bag and dug deep until I found it.

‘Check this out.’

I handed it to him and watched his face as he read it. Max had one of the most expressive faces I’d ever seen; you could see shock, anger, joy and surprise on it in just a few seconds sometimes. This time, I saw wonder, confusion and even a little bit of happiness. He regarded it like a piece of vital evidence in a murder investigation for a second then handed it back to me.

‘So Mr Writer’s back then, is he?’ he said with a smile.

My heart jumped when I heard my old nickname for him; I hadn’t heard it in such a long time. He’d been named after my favourite Stereophonics song. ‘Looks like it! I got the letter this morning; I’m still a bit dazed about it if I’m honest.’

‘I’ll say one thing for your man Ava, he’s got balls. If I’d sent love letters to a girl then suddenly stopped, there’s no way I’d start again after six years. Things can change a hell of a lot in that time; people get married, have kids. You could be pouring your heart out to someone who forgot you a long time ago. Imagine that…’

He stared into the middle distance and his brow furrowed, like he was in deep thought about something.

‘I’ve never forgotten him really,’ I confessed. ‘After all those beautiful letters, how could I? I didn’t expect him to rock up again after all this time though!’

Max smiled. ‘Neither did I, to be honest! I hope he doesn’t pull the same stunt as last time though, I remember how upset you were.’

My heart rate slowed back to normal and my throat tightened as a feeling of shame washed over me. It was a familiar feeling; I’d felt the same the day Mr Writer hadn’t turned up to meet me.

‘Me too; hopefully things will be different this time.’

Max put his arm round my shoulder and gave it an affectionate squeeze.

‘Well if he’s writing to you again, he obviously wants a chance to put things right, to try again maybe. One thing’s for sure, he must’ve been kicking himself about standing you up all those years ago. I’d have kicked him myself given half a chance! What if this is the time where everything falls into place? You finally meet the love of your life, the guy who’s been in love with you for God knows how long and you live happily ever after.’

‘I don’t know about that!’ I laughed wryly as he pulled me closer to him. ‘I don’t think I believe in happily ever after any more.’

‘How come?’

‘Have you seen my track record Max?! Men have left me since I was little – my dad, all my stepdads, Dave…’

‘You can’t still be blaming yourself for your dad and stepdads walking out, Ava. I’m sure they had their reasons for leaving, but none of them would be anything to do with you. The fact that Dave chose a job as a global development whatever-you-call-it…’

‘Global development manager,’ I said in a small voice. The job title was seared into my brain, I’d probably remember it for the rest of my life.

‘All right, a global development manager then. The fact he chose that job over you and told you he didn’t want you to go to Hong Kong with him, that just shows what an arrogant, selfish arse he is. I never liked him, if I’m honest.’

‘I’ll never forget what he said to me that night. Apparently our life together was “mediocre” and he felt “boxed in”, so he took the job and dumped me. I’m starting to wonder if there’s a bloke on this earth who’ll have me!’

‘Of course there is, you daft bugger!’ He chuckled softly and pulled me in for a hug. ‘You’re fantastic; why can’t you see that? Now that’s coming from someone who knows pretty much everything about you so it must be true! You’ll meet someone amazing one day, Ava.’

I let my head rest against his shoulder and thought about what Amira would say if she could see us now. The thought of her flying into a rage for no reason made me laugh. In the distance, I could hear the low rumble of a car approaching the pub.

‘Here’s a thought,’ Max said, craning his neck to see if it was a taxi. ‘Why don’t you find him this time? He’s obviously keen that he’s started writing again, but you know what blokes are like; they need a right good kick up the arse at times. Maybe that’s what Mr Writer needs. Enjoy the letters while they come and try to figure out who’s sending them. That could be the unusual love story you were looking for; they don’t come quirkier than getting love letters from some mysterious admirer!’

As I opened my mouth to explain why this was such a bad idea, a silver taxi slowed to a stop at the taxi rank across the road.

I got back to my flat, which was pleasingly empty as Gwen was at Tom’s. I looked at the letter again, devouring its contents with an eagerness I hadn’t felt in six long years. Max’s words echoed in my head: you’ll meet someone amazing one day, Ava.

Yeah right.

After my disastrous track record, I was starting to think there was no such thing as ‘amazing’. Maybe it was time to accept that I was only ever going to be disappointed by love, that it wasn’t some great wave that propelled you to a higher plane of being. The part of me that believed in love was getting smaller and smaller; it would take something pretty spectacular to restore my faith.

Something like… finding my secret admirer?

The more I thought about what Max had said, the more it made sense. Perhaps I should try and unmask the man behind those beautiful words. I didn’t have anything to lose, did I? If I was successful, I’d find out who’d been sending me these letters. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t really be any worse off. My head swirled as I thought of the amazing mystery that could finally be solved if I just put my mind to it…

No.

Practicality took over and I abandoned the idea. I remembered all too well what had happened the last time I’d let Mr Writer into my life. I didn’t want to put myself through that humiliation again, whether he ‘seemed keen’ like Max had said or not. All my life, my heart had been under lock and key and that was how it would stay.