Girl on the Run (34 page)

Despite or perhaps because of this, I spend a stupid amount of time thinking about him. I miss him as a friend and long for him as a lover. I wish circumstances were different, but they’re not. And if there’s one thing my dad’s revelation has underlined, it’s that I will
not
be responsible for breaking up someone else’s relationship.

Just as I am starting to believe I might be able to make it to the half-marathon without ever having a complete conversation with Tom, I receive an email from him at work and open it with a thrashing heart.

There is no way I’m taking part in a clandestine meeting. All it would do is fuel the feelings I’m working so hard to suppress. Plus, imagine if Geraldine found out. Yet I don’t want to row with him; that’s the last thing I want. I phrase my response carefully.

I spend ten minutes contemplating whether to follow his example and put kisses on the bottom. At first I think one might be acceptable, then remove it. Then I think anything less than two seems aloof, then I remove those. At one point I get to three, then tell myself I need a brain transplant, before taking off anything approaching a kiss, come-on or innuendo, and hit Send.

His response arrives less than a minute later.

I hit respond.

His response arrives in five seconds.

I hit respond again.

I check my emails all day after that, but there are no more. Then I spend all evening and all the following day wondering what would happen if I turned up. Even as the running club finishes and I studiously avoid the gaze Tom has permanently locked on me, it takes every bit of effort to get into the car and drive straight home.

I’m thinking about him all night, as I make dinner, fill a bath, pull on my pyjamas and get into bed. When a text arrives at 10.30, my heart leaps in case it’s him and I scold myself.

Jess’s name appears instead.

OMG! Adam just gave me the necklace – amazing! And a load of other presents too. Thanx Abs for all your advice in the last few wks. Have been a fool. Will never even look at another man again, let alone do what I did. Speak tomorrow x

I turn the phone onto vibrate and switch off my bedside light. At least someone’s happy.

I meet Jess at Jamie’s soccer club on Saturday morning and to say she’s still spinning from being given the necklace doesn’t quite cover it.

‘Abby, it’s gorgeous,’ she breathes.

‘I know,’ I grin. ‘I’m not even telling you how much Adam paid for it.’

‘I can imagine. But that’s not why I love it. He’s never done anything like this before. He said he wanted to remind me how much he loved me.’ She smiles, but her eyes are glassy. ‘Well, it worked.’

‘Good,’ I whisper.

‘I feel ashamed, though – that I needed something like this to remind me. I mean, it’s just a
thing
, isn’t it?’

‘A pretty damn fabulous thing.’

‘Yeah, but, that’s not the point. The point is my husband is amazing. I don’t ever want to be without him. I only wish I’d realised it before . . .’

There’s a smattering of applause from further along the bench and when we look up, Jamie has scored a goal. Jess and I hastily jump up and begin cheering. When we sit again, she confides, ‘I’m eaten up about what I did, Abby. I can’t sleep. How could I have even thought about having sex with another man?’

‘Look, Jess – a silly fling destroyed my mum and dad’s marriage. But it’s not going to destroy yours. Just be thankful that you’ve seen the light before you did anything
really
stupid. Move on.’

‘Sorry, Abby,’ she says. ‘I’ve not even asked you about how you’re feeling about your parents since the other day. Are you okay?’

I shrug. ‘Still reeling, to be honest. And I feel bad about Mum. I’ve held this grudge against her for half my life. If only I’d known what really happened, I’d have understood her decision to leave. I might not have liked it, but I’d have understood.’

‘Have you said anything to her?’

‘God, no. She wouldn’t appreciate Dad filling me in.’

‘Why, when he was the guilty party?’ Jess asks.

‘She’s always wanted me to be spared the unseemly details of their break-up, according to Dad. She thinks it’s better to keep their version of the story suitably vague. She’d kill him if she found out he’d told me.’

‘I can see why she didn’t want you to know the real reason,’ Jess concurs. ‘All parents want to shelter their kids from stuff like that. If Jamie ever found out what I’d done . . .’ She shudders.

‘Nobody will find out,’ I whisper. ‘It’s between you, me and John. Do you still see him much at work?’

She swallows. ‘Yep.’

‘Do you still have feelings for him?’

‘Not any more. Aside from my realisation about Adam, I’ve seen what he’s really like. I feel so stupid. And to think I was seduced by a few stupid words. That three months ago, a guy managed to get me into bed by telling me I had “fairytale-moon eyes”. What an idiot I was!’ she laughs.

My blood runs cold. I suddenly want to press the pause button on our conversation, rewind and hear it again.

‘What did you say, Jess?’ I ask quietly.

‘Hmmm? What?’ she asks, distractedly clapping another goal from Jamie.

‘What did you say?’ I repeat calmly. ‘The line he seduced you with?’

She looks at me and registers my expression. And that’s all it takes to realise her blunder – the fact that, with one remark, her story has unravelled.

I try to stay calm as I take in the implications of what she’s said. ‘There is no John, is there?’

‘Wh-what do you mean?’ She sounds frightened.

‘You know exactly what I mean, Jess.’

‘No, I don’t,’ she replies, but her neck is crimson.

‘Tell me: how likely do you think it is that two separate men would come up with a line as corny and as crap – but as bloody original – as “
you’ve got fairytale-moon eyes
”?’

‘Did . . . someone else say that?’ she asks tepidly. Before I have a chance to respond, Jamie runs towards us as his football training comes to an end.

‘Hi, sweetie. You were fantastic,’ she stammers. As she starts to put on his coat, she glances at me. Panic flashes across her face and, if there was any doubt before, my suspicion is confirmed.

The man my best friend slept with is Oliver.

How’s that for a tangled personal life? It’s almost laughable.

First I sleep with Oliver – a man I’ve chased for four months.

Then I almost kiss Tom – a man I started out hating, progressed to liking, and now am trying to stop myself being in love with, because he’s someone else’s boyfriend.

Then I discover that, after years of thinking that Mum had just got fed up with Dad and buggered off for a change of scene, actually, he had slept with another woman. Who happened to be my aunt.

Now I find out that I wasn’t the only one seduced by the deceptive charms of Doctor Dishy: so too was my best friend.

My life hasn’t turned into a soap opera, it’s an epic bloody melodrama.

All I want now is quiet. I crave nothingness. So in the twenty-four hours after the revelation about Jess and Oliver I do little, except watch
Strictly
twice on Sky Plus (even though it wasn’t that riveting the first time) and start sorting out my sock drawer. I’m now lying on the sofa, having abandoned both – the socks and
Strictly
– when the bell rings. I drag myself to the door and open it to find Jess on the doorstep, her forehead etched with distress.

‘Abby, can we talk?’

I let her in. ‘How are things?’

My friend has dark circles under her eyes that make her look fragile in a way that doesn’t suit her at all. ‘I’m really sorry, Abby,’ she says, perching on the sofa.

‘You keep saying that. What are you sorry for? Oliver was never mine.’

‘I know, but I knew what you felt for him,’ she sighs. ‘The only thing I can say is that I felt exactly the same. I tried not to – bloody hell I tried – but I failed, didn’t I? Just like I’ve failed at everything. Being a wife. Being a friend.’

‘No, you haven’t,’ I object. ‘You really haven’t.’

‘Well, after I slept with Oliver, it felt like I’d done the dirty on you as well as Adam – and I hate myself for it, I really do. All I wanted was for these feelings about him to go away – but I just couldn’t make them. How weak does that make me? I’m horrible.’

‘Jess, please. You
didn’t
do the dirty on me.’

‘I wanted to warn you about what a womaniser he was, but didn’t know how to without confessing the whole thing,’ she babbles on. ‘I just felt so bloody helpless. I’d betrayed you as much as—’

‘Jess, stop!’ I interrupt. ‘Look, I need to tell you something anyway that might make you feel better.’

‘I doubt it,’ she says. ‘But go on.’

‘I feel nothing for Oliver any more,’ I tell her.

She takes a deep breath. ‘Well, there’s a coincidence, because neither do I. If only we’d seen the light sooner, eh?’

‘Yeah, well, it gets worse. I think I’ve fallen for Tom.’

Her eyes widen. ‘Shit. Seriously? After what happened in Tenerife?’

I shrug. ‘If I’m honest, it probably happened a long time before that.’

Jess and I talk for the rest of the evening and it’s a blessed relief, for both of us. As she finally opens the door to leave and we hug each other goodnight, several facts crystallise in my mind.

Fact one: no one’s perfect – as I prove to myself daily.

Fact two: passion can do funny things to a woman – as I prove to myself hourly.

And fact three: my best friend and I need each other – and always will.

As the chill of winter descends on Liverpool, my resolve to complete the half-marathon is stronger than ever.

It’s not just a mental thing. Despite the ups and downs, of which I admit there have been many, I’ve broadly followed the training schedule I set when I joined the running club in the summer. The result is that I am at a place physically that I never thought possible – not for someone like me. For the first time in months I believe – no, I
know
– that I am going to complete this half-marathon. I no longer have any doubts. Even if I crawl round, I am going to complete it.

It’s a bitter Thursday night with sky the colour of treacle, and the sweat on my body turns to ice the second I finish my run. I take a moment to recover and am about to head straight to the car, when Mau starts gassing.

‘This half-marathon’ll be a breeze if you run like you did tonight,’ she grins. Despite the sub-zero temperatures, Mau’s got her cleavage out and is adorned with so much precious metal I’m surprised it hasn’t stuck to her.

‘I doubt that,’ I laugh.

‘I mean it. You’ll be going into that middle group soon and leaving us old ladies behind.’

‘Not likely. But thanks for the encouragement.’

‘Well, there’ll be room for you, I’m sure. Geraldine’s got more important things on her mind at the moment than running.’

This statement is a clear invitation to ask more. My will -power lasts about three seconds.

‘Oh, why’s that?’

‘Well,’ she glances from side to side as if she’s the Pink Panther, ‘I’m not supposed to say anything, but she and Tom are
finally
getting married.’

And there you have it.

The second her words are out there, floating between us in the cold, black air, is the second I realise that this is the news I’ve dreaded since the day we returned from Tenerife.

With my stomach sinking, I try my best not to react; to turn my face to stone. I can feel my lip wobbling, but fortunately Mau is too busy unsubtly checking the coast is clear to notice.

‘They’ve not announced it,’ she whispers. ‘And you mustn’t say anything, because it’s not strictly official – yet. But they’ve had a long discussion and Tom’s apparently decided that he wants to take the plunge. I love a good wedding! I hope they have a summer one. My hair’s frizzy as hell at this time of year and it always shows up on the photos.’

I gaze at her, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, except the thunder of my heart against my chest.

‘Is Geraldine pregnant?’ I blurt out. I don’t know what I want the answer to be: that Tom’s been tricked into proposing – or that he’s simply decided all by himself that he loves her enough to marry her.

Mau rolls her eyes.

‘God, she didn’t tell you about her loopy plan too, did she?’ she asks. I don’t respond, instead letting her carry on talking. ‘No, she’s not – though not through lack of trying. Terrible, isn’t she?’ She says it with a note of affection that I’m aware others might not consider Geraldine worthy of under the circumstances. ‘At least he’s made the decision without it coming to that, that’s all I can say.’