The Mini-Break Read online

  ‘I’ve been feeling under the weather, and really busy with this case, you know that!’ he said, outraged.

  ‘It’s Saturday. You haven’t been at work today for God’s sake. You could have done something this morning.’

  ‘But it’s the weekend!’

  ‘And?’

  He blustered around for a few seconds and then just repeated himself.

  ‘But it’s the weekend.’

  I turned away and went into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of wine.

  ‘Benedict. I’ve just driven back from Devon. It was snowing. I’m tired, I’m hungry and I just wanted a quiet evening. I didn’t want to spend hours cleaning up after you just because you can’t be bothered and you think your weekend is more important than mine.’

  He gave a little confused shake of his head. ‘What the hell’s got into you?’

  I took a sip of my wine and put the glass down on the worktop. I couldn’t go on like this for much longer.

  ‘I’m fed up with this, Benedict. I’m beginning to wonder …’

  Panic flittered across his face for a second. Then he came towards me with his best puppy dog look and a rueful pout. I think it was supposed to soften me up. It didn’t.

  ‘I’m sorry, poppet, don’t be cross. I had one of my headaches. It might even have been a migraine. I’ve missed you. I wasn’t thinking.’ He put his hands on my waist and rocked me gently from side to side. ‘Don’t be cross with me.’

  ‘And don’t call me poppet either,’ I said, pushing him away.

  This was the point where I should start to calm down. But I didn’t. Perhaps I had a guilty conscience? I deserved to. After all I had enjoyed sex with another man, hadn’t I? If I had proof that Benedict had slept with another woman I’d have been absolutely furious. I’d have slagged him off something rotten to anyone who was prepared to listen.

  I was a hypocrite. I suddenly felt thoroughly ashamed of myself.

  ‘Just don’t do it again,’ I said rather weakly.

  ‘That’s my girl. There’s my little Lu.’

  He was pulling me in towards him. I know what this signalled: some bedroom action. Suddenly there was nothing I wanted less. Unless it was cleaning out the dishwasher filter.

  Benedict made a little crooning noise. ‘Look, I’ll open a bottle of bubbly and we’ll do some snuggling. I’ve missed you so much. I bet you’ve missed me too. Stuck in the back of beyond with no company and no one to cuddle up to. I know you, Lulu, you’re not happy because you need a bit of attention. That’s it, isn’t it?’

  Joe.

  Suddenly I thought of Joe.

  And that was all I could think of. Being in bed with Joe. Being in Joe’s arms.

  Benedict mistook my silence for agreement and moved in to kiss me.

  ‘Let’s have some champagne and just for once we’ll order a takeaway – your choice. And we’ll do that thing with the ice cream. And you’ll be yourself in no time.’

  I came to my senses and gently pushed him away.

  ‘I’m really tired.’

  ‘I know, my little Lulabelle. C’mon, a little bit of jiggy and you’ll be my girl again.’

  I was outraged. ‘A little bit of jiggy? You’re astonishing!’

  ‘Hahahaha! So I’m told!’ Benedict struck a Usain Bolt lightning pose.

  ‘No I mean no, I’m not in the mood.’

  ‘Oh, Lu, sweetie, calm down. We can work through this. I can see you’re upset but – well you were a bit to blame, you know.’

  ‘How?’

  He stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged. ‘Well I don’t know, I’m a chap. You can’t just leave a chap to get on with it and go away all the time.’

  ‘You’ve somehow acquired some sort of disability?’

  ‘No, you’re just being silly now. Look—’ Benedict ran his hand through his hair ‘—can we just start again? You’re right I should have tidied up but I didn’t and I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting you. Okay. Now let’s open the bubbly and say no more about it. You can tell me all about what you’ve been doing.’

  What I’ve been doing.

  I wondered how the evening would pan out if I told Benedict the truth.

  Actually, Benedict, last night I had the best sex of my life with a farmer.

  ‘Nothing very thrilling. Some writing, a bit of editing. Tell me what you’ve been doing,’ I said, desperate to turn his attention away from me and what I’d been up to in the last twenty-four hours.

  He perked up at that and started to rabbit on about what Percy had said and what Toby had done and their continuing problems with parking now that the car park near their chambers had been dug up to sort out the Victorian drains. This expanded into how clever he was to ride a bike to work and how he thought he needed to upgrade to something a bit lighter. By which I suppose he meant more expensive.

  We drank champagne and Benedict ordered a curry that turned out to be bland and disappointing. He blamed me for that too, because I didn’t want anything too spicy. Then we watched a depressing programme about plastic bags and how they were ruining the environment and I went to bed, leaving Benedict snoring on the sofa.

  Chapter Nine

  The following day was Sunday of course, which usually meant a morning in bed followed by brunch with the Sunday papers. This time I was up early, encouraging Benedict into the shower by hoovering the living room rather clumsily, bashing against the sofa and waking him up.

  We got to Dizzy’s just before midday and some of the usual suspects wandered in a few minutes later. First came Toby and the odious Percy and his equally irritating brother Leo. By then I was so clenched up with indecision and guilt I was practically mute. I buried myself in the colour supplements and pretended I was hungover because then I could legitimately exclude myself from the conversation without being marked down as stroppy or hormonal.

  Something was going to have to change. I could feel it in the air. Something in me was different although I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what it was. This life – London and bars and overdone partying, shallow senseless gossip. Expensive taxis to clubs and cafés. The noise, the dirt, the jostling crowds. The terrible feeling that there should be more than this but not knowing what. Not knowing what I wanted.

  I carried on reading an article about tattoos and wondered why anyone would have one considering the possibility of infection, dodgy graphics or bad spelling.

  ‘Lululicious is jolly quiet today,’ Percy said at last, his voice booming out across the table. ‘Late night then was it? Happy reunion, Benedict? Hahahaha!’

  I sent him a withering look.

  ‘I’m off to get a refill,’ Leo said. He stood up, knocking his head against one of the low-slung pendant lights. He did this with monotonous regularity and never seemed to learn.

  Percy held out his pint glass. ‘Same again, eh?’

  ‘Get it yourself, you lazy sod!’ Leo said, rubbing his head ruefully.

  ‘Well that’s charming isn’t it?’ Percy said looking around for sympathy.

  Someone behind the bar turned up the volume of the music playing. It was something noisy, pounding with a heavy bass and some screeching woman singing over the top of it.

  I could feel the tension rising inside my head. If it carried on I was going to lose it. I was going to throw myself onto the floor and kick and scream like a toddler having a tantrum. There was a new server behind the bar who was annoying me on several levels. Her blue and green hair. Her pink Doc Marten boots. Her tattoos. Even her nose stud infuriated me.

  Percy and Benedict started bickering about who was going to get the next round of drinks in, citing the night before last when Percy had bought a bottle of champagne and Benedict countered by reminding him about the many rounds of shots they had shared at Twickenham.

  The door opened and my sister came in, yelping with excitement to see me, closely followed by Ralphie and his sister Maud.

  ‘You’re back!’ Jassy exclaimed. ‘I’m so relie
ved! You had snow didn’t you? I was afraid you’d be stuck in the back of beyond for the rest of your life! Poor darling, was it really awful?’ She came over to kiss me and then of course Ralphie, oozing charm and an impressive Caribbean tan with white owl eyes where he had kept his sunglasses on, came over to give me a hug and tell me – as he always did – how gorgeous I was looking. Which was a lie because I knew perfectly well I didn’t.

  *

  We got back to the flat just before five thirty with the prospect of meeting up with the Gang later for cocktails. I wanted to be left alone. I really couldn’t be bothered. If I closed my eyes I could almost see the sitting room at Barracane House. The wood burner, the lovely views down the valley, the comfortable bed. Oh God what was I thinking? What was the matter with me?

  Benedict was in a fine humour, loving and pleasantly tactile. He stood behind me and kissed my neck while I unlocked the front door. Now in the past this would have put me in the mood or at least halfway there. This time I brushed him off like a troublesome mosquito.

  Benedict sighed. ‘What’s the matter? Come on, you’re still upset about something.’

  ‘Oh I don’t know. I’m just a bit off,’ I said.

  ‘Well I can tell that.’

  He walked over to the television, unbuttoning his coat and dropping it over the back of a chair. Then he slumped down with the TV remotes in his hands, kicked off his shoes and started flicking though the channels.

  ‘I’m not feeling great,’ I said. I walked over to the window and looked out at the street below.

  ‘Hmm?’ He didn’t look up. ‘Time of the month?’

  ‘No, Benedict, and you don’t get extra Brownie points when you say that you know.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘There are other reasons why I might be feeling out of sorts.’

  He looked up at me then, his head turning sharply.

  ‘Christ on a bike, you’re not up the duff are you?’

  ‘No, Benedict. But wouldn’t that be a lovely way of discussing it if I were,’ I said waspishly.

  ‘Thank heavens for that,’ he said and turned his attention back to the screen.

  He was watching football. In a few minutes he was engrossed in it. ‘I don’t suppose you’d get me a beer would you?’ he said.

  Like a muppet I went to the fridge, pulled out a beer and uncapped it for him.

  ‘There’s a good girl, now come and snuggle,’ he said, patting the sofa cushions next to him. I didn’t move. I stood watching the cars in the street, the people hurrying to get out of the rain.

  ‘I think I’ll sell this flat,’ I said at last.

  Until that moment I hadn’t known I was going to say any such thing.

  He didn’t react.

  ‘I said I’m going to sell this flat.’ Repeating it seemed to solidify the thought in my head.

  This time I got through. His head whipped round.

  ‘What? Sell this flat? Why the hell would you do that?’

  ‘I need a change,’ I said.

  ‘Change? But where would we go? I mean where is better than Notting Hill? I hope you’re not thinking of the house, dog and garden thing because it wouldn’t work for us – you know it wouldn’t.’

  ‘No I’m not thinking of that. I mean a real change.’

  ‘And this flat is so convenient,’ he said.

  ‘Convenient for you, you mean?’

  ‘Well yes, but you too. I mean all our friends are here. We know all the shops. There’s never any problem with … you know.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Stuff. Deliveries, taxis,’ he said, ‘noise, vandalism. Drunks.’

  ‘Well that’s not true. Maudie found someone asleep on her front step the other day.’

  ‘Did she? Good grief.’

  He was only listening with half his attention now, his eyes swivelling back to the television.

  ‘And I would like somewhere with a bit more space. Perhaps a second bedroom or a separate dining room.’

  ‘Well maybe, but it’s an awful drag having to find somewhere isn’t it? Oooh that was definitely off side!’

  ‘Or a garden,’ I said, brightening at the idea, ‘yes I’d like a garden.’

  He snorted. ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’

  ‘Why is that ridiculous?’ I said.

  ‘Because there are people who do gardens and there are people who don’t. People like us. Weeding, mowing, planting stuff, getting rid of green waste, there’s no way I’m doing that.’

  ‘Well no I don’t imagine you would. You can’t bring yourself to take the recycling out,’ I muttered.

  ‘Well then? I’m not interested in a garden. Maybe a roof terrace with a hot tub. That might do. Oh, ref! Did you see that?’

  I sighed. ‘I do want a garden,’ I said stubbornly after a few minutes. On the street a taxi driver had got out of his cab and was waving his arms at someone blocking his lane. ‘I want to live somewhere peaceful, somewhere with a view. Where I can see the stars at night.’

  Benedict turned to look at me, his face creased with incomprehension.

  ‘What the hell are you on about? Since when did you care about that? Do you really think I’m going to move into some bijou little terrace with a picnic bench and some terracotta pots and strings of fairy lights along the fence? Have you lost your mind? You’re not pregnant are you? You’re absolutely sure?’

  ‘No I’m not!’

  ‘You’re acting as though you’re going crazy. Everyone wants to live in Notting Hill. There isn’t one person in the country who wouldn’t jump at the chance.’

  Joe wouldn’t.

  I tried to imagine Joe here, living in this flat with its echoing chrome stairwell and the glass balcony that was big enough for one chair but not two. The kitchen that had a massive American fridge freezer because it looked cool but had no space for a tumble dryer. The high-end dishwasher with the irritating little slots for cutlery in the top. The living area with a fifty-inch television on the wall above the white pebble gas fire. Compared with Barracane House or Lower Tor Farm – Joe’s farm – it was fake, smug and embarrassing.

  ‘Then why doesn’t everyone live here?’ I said foolishly.

  ‘Because everyone can’t afford it,’ Benedict said in a duh tone of voice. ‘Look you’re just being silly, all this dodging backwards and forward to Devon – you’re just tired and disoriented.’

  ‘Disorientated,’ I muttered.

  ‘That too. Now look, fetch me another beer, have one yourself if you like, then come and cuddle up to me.’

  I got as far as the kitchen and opening the fridge door. The bottles of pretentious overpriced beer were stacked up on the metal rack. I suddenly remembered the Cat and Convict and the beer brewed there, foaming in Joe’s pewter tankard.

  I shut the fridge door and poured myself a glass of red wine. Then I went to sit down in the chair opposite Benedict. After a few seconds he looked over.

  ‘Got my beer, sweetie?’

  ‘Nope,’ I said.

  He pulled a face.

  ‘Get it yourself,’ I said.

  Benedict stood up, shaking his head, and went to the kitchen. ‘My word you are in a state aren’t you?’

  He came back, slumped into the sofa, took a pull at his beer and turned up the television a fraction.

  ‘This isn’t really working, Benedict,’ I said.

  After a moment he looked over. ‘What? What’s not working?’

  ‘This. All of this isn’t working,’ I said.

  He put the beer bottle down on the coffee table with a thump. ‘Oh for fuck’s sake, Lu. Can we talk about this some other time? You’re obviously tired and hormonal.’

  ‘I’m not,’ I said. ‘I’m going to sell this flat and I’m going to move somewhere nice.’

  He looked incredulous. ‘But this is nice. What’s not nice about this?’

  ‘It’s not what I want. Not any more.’

  He came over and sat on the arm of my chair and stroked m
y hair.

  ‘Look, I don’t want to move, Lu. I like it here. I like living here with you. I don’t want to live somewhere “nice” when I already live somewhere fucking marvellous.’

  I was suddenly calm and clear-headed. I was going to take control.

  ‘I’ll be putting the flat on the market soon. So you’ll have to decide what you want to do.’

  At this point he was sufficiently alarmed to turn the television off and he moved to sit opposite me, perched on the edge of the coffee table. He took my hands in his.

  ‘Lu, just sleep on it okay? You’re in a funny mood. You’re overtired. You’re not thinking straight. I don’t want to move and nor do you, okay?’

  ‘Well you’re going to have to.’

  ‘Where? Where is this insanity taking us?’

  ‘Me. It’s taking me. You need to think about it.’

  ‘What?’ he said, outraged.

  I stood up and pulled my hands away. ‘Like I said, this isn’t working. I’m sorry.’

  ‘You can’t do this! I have rights too. I pay the electricity bill!’

  ‘And I pay everything else. Don’t make this any more difficult than it already is.’

  Benedict took another long swig of his beer. ‘Is that what all this is about? You want me to pay rent or something?’

  ‘It wouldn’t have killed you to offer.’

  ‘Then I will.’

  ‘It’s not just that. It’s everything,’ I said, sipping my wine. I felt odd and edgy; my insides were clenched with fright at what I had started. But I couldn’t stop now. I’d taken the first step towards something.

  Benedict sighed. ‘What the hell do you want?’

  ‘I want to sell this place and move somewhere with some character. With some soul. A community where people give a damn.’

  ‘How can you think … Soul? Are you serious? Be careful what you wish for, Lu,’ he said, laughing.

  I gave him a withering look. ‘I’m going to give you a month to find somewhere.’

  ‘What?’ he shouted.

  ‘A month. You’ve got lots of friends and loads of contacts.’

  ‘Bollocks! But what about us?’

  I gnawed at a hangnail. ‘I’m not stupid, Benedict. That blonde the other day – she wasn’t the first, was she? You’re telling me she wasn’t a friend with significant benefits?’