River Deep (44 page)

‘Maggie’s not back with her ex,’ Falcon said, almost to himself, as he admired page three of the
Sun
.

Pete looked at him hard.

‘What?’ he said, reaching over and closing the paper with a snap.

‘Mate!’ Falcon gestured at the tabloid. ‘I was reading that!’

‘Were you? Well let me fill you in. She’s nineteen and enjoys hockey and horse riding. Now what do you mean Maggie’s not back with her ex. Have they split up again?’

Falcon looked puzzled. ‘No! They were never back together! I heard her telling her brother in the pub, in the little bar. You should come up there sometime – it’s got a really good atmosphere, really buzzing and …’

‘Falcon, mate, what did you overhear?’ Pete persisted.

Falcon sighed heavily.

‘This geezer, Chris or something, was it? Obviously a bit of a twat. Anyway, he came over one afternoon when I was in there. Just after they shut the main bar, so it must have been a couple of months ago. She goes off with him out the back for a chat. Half an hour later he comes running out, blubbing like a bird. A few minutes after that she comes out all in a flap about his
other
girlfriend getting the wrong end of the stick, thinking Maggie and him were getting back together when they weren’t, and how she had to go and see this other woman and put her straight and some other stuff. I can’t remember it exactly. But anyway, I do know she’s not back with that bloke. I mean, I see her at least twice a week. She’s as single as I am, mate. Although not really my type in the frontage department, if you know what I––’

Pete stared at him in disbelief. ‘But why didn’t you tell me this?’ he asked Falcon, already knowing the answer.

Falcon shook his head. ‘Because I didn’t
know
you wanted to know! Shit, I’m not psychic,’ he exclaimed. ‘I don’t have women’s intuition or whatever that crap they always go on about is! Sue me!’

Pete shook his head and buried his face in his hands.

‘God, I’m such a fucking halfwit,’ he said. ‘I should have gone round to see her, even if I did think she was with this other bloke. I should have said, “Maggie, I want you, do you want me?” I should have risked it. But no, I had to play it safe, I couldn’t put myself out there … I should have had the guts to finish it with Stella instead of letting things just drift along. Fuck.’

Falcon leaned back in his chair as he reopened the paper.

‘I don’t see what the problem is, mate,’ he said.

Pete looked up at him in despair.

‘What do you mean you don’t see what the problem is? How can you not see what the problem is? I’m engaged to the wrong girl, the right girl’s been single all along and I’m going to LA in a week!’

Pete ran the sentence back in his head trying to work out exactly what the problem was himself.

‘You’re worried about hurting Stella, right? And that’s what’s stopping you?’

Pete nodded. ‘Mostly,’ he said. ‘I mean, I’ve known her a long time, Falc. She comes across as hard as nails and ruthless, and she is. Sometimes she’s had to be. But before all this I saw these glimpses of her through all the show, these little glimpses of a small, scared girl always looking for the best person to protect her from the world she grew up in, the best person to rescue her. Only now it’s not glimpses, she’s that person all the time – she’s clinging on to me like I’m driftwood in a big, scary ocean. I’m frightened to end it with her, Falc, I’m frightened to say the one thing to her I promised I never would say.’

Falcon shifted in his chair and stroked his beard.

‘All right,’ he said. ‘Remember when you told me I had to be straight with Angie? You said I couldn’t have sex with her
and
be just her mate?’

‘Well, I said you couldn’t string her along because you wanted to have sex with her. It’s slightly different. For starters, Stella and I haven’t had sex since the night she got back.’

Falcon raised a pierced eyebrow which, in bloke’s language, said ‘Then why the fuck haven’t you done this ages ago?’ But instead of verbalising the thought, he pressed on with his advice.

‘Actually,’ he said. ‘I didn’t want to hurt Angie either. But I only realised that once I had. That night, the night Stella got back and I talked to Angie like you told me, well, mate, she fell to pieces in front of my eyes. Total surprise. I had no idea it was affecting her like that.

‘She just disintegrated, and I had to watch her. It was terrible, because it was only then that I realised what I’d done to her. I’d trodden all over her without having the faintest idea what it meant to her … or to me.’

Falcon paused, looking inwardly at the memory for a second before sitting up a little.

‘She was really,
really
angry. Which was sort of impressive. My point is, she got over it, didn’t she? Bloody fucking quickly, actually.’ He was unable to hide the offence in his voice. ‘And Stella will too. Look, I’m not being cruel or anything, I hardly know the girl, but, well – they’re like babies, women. You can drop them on their heads and it won’t
necessarily
kill them. Like I said, they’re tougher than they look. So I really don’t see what the problem is.’

Falcon unknotted his ponytail and then retied it, feeling unusually sage.

‘Go and see Maggie. Try it on with her. If she’s up for it, you’re game on until you go to LA. If she’s not, then you’re going to dump Stella anyway and you can go off to LA knowing you’ve got nothing holding you back. American chicks are really classy. I’ve been to New York twice, I know, mate. Classy and stylish. They manicure their
toenails
. Angie always had a bit of athlete’s foot. I bet she’s sorted it now she’s shagging poncy
Justin
.’

Pete ignored about eighty per cent of what Falcon was saying and tried to concentrate on the nucleus. He
had
to see Maggie. He just had to be in a room with her and talk to her and see if there was anything still there or if it had been in his head. Once he’d done that, everything else would be easier. Telling Stella about LA, finishing with her for good. Even if, as he suspected, Maggie didn’t want him, at least he wouldn’t always be wondering; at least he could move on. As for Stella, he just had to find a way to separate him and her out for good, without hurting her more than he had to. But he had to do it, because he knew that if they both went on day after day caught in this stalemate they’d smother each other eventually. And he thought that deep down she knew it too.

‘You could always go to the reopening of The Fleur tonight. To the party.’ Falcon had not stopped talking. ‘I mean, after all, we’re all invited.’

‘What?’ Falcon had caught Pete’s attention.

‘To the reopening of The Fleur tonight. Free booze and canapés, apparently. Maggie told me to ask you and Stella and Angie ages ago, and––’

‘When?’ Pete asked him, trying to work out if it meant Maggie wanted to see him or if she didn’t care about him being with Stella.

‘Dunno. A couple of weeks ago maybe?’ Falcon said with a shrug.

‘Why didn’t you tell me!’ Pete almost shouted.

Falcon just looked at him.

‘Do I really have to explain all that crap to you
again
,’ he said. ‘I thought I had told you. I told Angie, which usually means I’ve told everyone in St Albans! Jesus, mate, how many times –
I am not a woman
!’

‘Sure about that, are you?’ Angie said as she entered the kitchen in an exceptionally short T-shirt. As she reached to the top shelf for her guest’s coffee Pete noticed that she wasn’t wearing pants. For modesty’s sake, Pete looked at Falcon instead, whose face had clouded over with a thunderous gloom.

Angie reboiled the already hot kettle and spooned coffee into the cafetière that she kept in her room.

‘So are you going to The Fleur tonight? I’m excited, I’ve never been to a launch party! I expect it’ll be all right to take Justin on my invite, won’t it?’ The kettle boiled and Angie filled the cafetière with steaming water and grabbed two mugs.

‘Expect so,’ Pete answered when he realised Falcon patently wasn’t going to. ‘I only just found out about it.’

Angie paused and wrinkled her brow.

‘Did you?’ she said. ‘Because I told Stella about it ages ago. Told her to tell you. She seemed really up for it, asking me loads of questions. I’d have told you myself, but I’ve just been so “busy”!’ She loaded the last word with innuendo.

‘Well, I’m off back to bed!’ Angie giggled, and practically skipped down the hallway. When she had shut her bedroom door Falcon looked at Pete.

‘She’s taunting me! She’s bloody taunting me!’

Pete grinned, despite the sense of disquiet Angie’s information had given him.

‘Yep, mate, she is.’

Falcon folded up his paper and shoved it in the bin.

‘But what I don’t understand is why? What for?’

Pete shook his head and laughed. ‘Maybe she hasn’t gotten over you quite as quickly as you think?’

As Falcon realised what Pete meant it was like the sun rose over the kitchen table. Perhaps, Pete thought, as he headed up the stairs, there
were
such things as second chances.

Maybe, he thought, in the moment he stood outside the bedroom door, Stella had just forgotten to tell him. Maybe she’d worked out that it was Maggie’s party and didn’t want them to go, or maybe, and most likely, Pete decided, she just didn’t want to go anywhere ever again. Well, there was only one way to find out.

‘Maggie.’ Jim held both of Maggie’s slight shoulders. ‘Everything. Will. Be. Fine. OK?’

Maggie nodded and then shook her head. Jim released her and gestured around him.

‘Look at this bar! Look at it, it’s fantastic, just what we wanted – modern but retaining all its original features and character!’

Jim more or less quoted from Maggie’s own design brief, but she had to admit he was right. Taking out the snug seating and opening the space up had created a much airier, lighter feel to the bar, as had replacing the dirty nets with large panels of clear glass windows. The formerly dark bar now seemed twice as big and flooded with light. The ceiling had been painted with a washable white, and discreet extractor fans had been positioned around the room to keep the smoke levels down. The floor was sanded and polished and the bar had been streamlined and moved back a foot or two, which Sheila said meant only skinny people could work behind it, but Maggie still thought it was better than the old one which extended so far into the floor space that it cut down the number of potential customers they could fit in by at least ten. New double doors swung open on to her almost new professional kitchen, which shone like an almost new pin. The place did look fantastic. Now all she needed was the hoard of endless customers to pay for it and it’d be fine. Oh yes, and a chef that could actually cook.

‘What about Keisha?’ Maggie said to Jim, feeling her confidence wobble again. She was a nice girl, and she certainly had cooked wonderfully for them, but she’d only been a sous-chef before, she’d never yet run her own kitchen.

‘Keisha is the best find we’ve ever made – she’s brilliant. If she wasn’t, the hotel wouldn’t have fought so hard to keep her! OK, she’s a bit inexperienced, but with Chris and Louise out there helping her tonight, she’ll be fantastic. And don’t forget that it was Christian who recommended her, and you said we can trust his judgement, because otherwise you wouldn’t have asked him, and that was when I was still at the punching him stage, remember?’

Maggie nodded. It had been hard to explain to her family that not only was she over Christian but she didn’t mind his new girlfriend either, as it happened. They’d all treated her like she was Mother Theresa or something for being so at one with it, and her mum had complimented her on her ability to leave the past behind. Little did they know!

Jim examined his sister’s still anxious face.

‘OK? Do you want to go and see? Let’s go and see.’

Maggie nodded dumbly and followed her brother into the kitchen, where Keisha, Christian and Louise all stood over a tray of mini filo tartlets.

It was still a shock, Maggie realised, to see Louise by Christian’s side instead of her, and on some deep level it still pulled painfully at her heart. Part of her still wanted to shove Louise aside and take her place, but probably, she supposed, only out of habit. Besides, over the last couple of weeks, when Maggie had finally decided that the relaunch of The Fleur was too important
not
to ask Christian for his opinion and advice, she and Louise had met officially for the first time. Poor Christian had been as white as a sheet and clearly dreading the whole occasion, and Maggie had almost told him that it was OK, she and Louise had been quite good arch nemeses for a while now and there was really no reason for him to worry. But then she had put paid to that impulse and thanked her lucky stars that Louise had just as much to lose from spilling the beans as she did. It had been awkward at first – bordering on catty for a while. But gradually they seemed to be getting more comfortable with each other, and were even approaching friendly. And since Louise and Christian had finally been reunited, neither one of them had shown any signs of psychotic behaviour, which was a relief, frankly, Maggie thought. It took up an awful lot of energy being that conniving.

The trio looked up as Jim and she entered, and Louise took a small step closer to Christian.

‘Hello!’ Maggie said nervously. ‘So how’s it all going, then, out here? Everything OK?’

She noticed that her voice squeaked slightly as she spoke, and she struggled to remain calm. She knew what the problem was – this was the one part of the evening she couldn’t control. Well, not the only part but the most obvious one. She’d been completely in charge of the refit, made sure all the invites got sent to all the right people (after spending a couple of hours with Mrs Kim choosing exactly the right design). She’d made all the follow-up calls herself (except one) to make sure that the press, the local businesses and public figures would be there. She’d done a great deal on the Veuve Cliquot and had even sourced and checked all the ingredients for the food, sampling each component herself for its taste and freshness. She had organised every single little detail, but she couldn’t actually prepare the food herself. She had to let someone else cook for her, and she had to trust them. Keisha was sweet and sort of intense and really into what she was doing, but she was barely twenty, and Maggie was worried that Keisha might get distracted by a boyfriend or a pair of shoes or something – the sorts of things that regularly distracted Maggie until she met Christian, and then … well, everyone knew what happened after that.