Over You Page 19

  She punched her hard pillow into a more comfortable shape and racked her brain for a masterplan. What would feisty Nell have done in her place? Surely she wouldn’t have caved in and accepted Pete’s decision as pathetically as Josie had done? Surely Nell would be out there, fighting to give the relationship another chance if she believed it was worth it?

  ‘Did you think I’d crumble?’ she heard Gloria Gaynor sing in her head. ‘Did you think I’d lay down and die? Oh no, not I!’

  Josie’s eyes opened wide in the darkness as the glimmerings of an idea appeared in her mind at last. Did she dare? Did she have any choice?

  ‘Peter Winter, I’m coming to get you,’ she whispered aloud. She went to sleep with a smile on her face, and dreamed of being held.

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘Good luck, and thanks. Thanks for everything.’ Josie threw her arms around Nell, not quite wanting to let go. Already Devon seemed like a rose-tinted dream. Saying goodbye to Nell felt like putting the lid on it all. Fun-time over.

  Nell hugged her for a long time. ‘Thanks for having me,’ she said at last. ‘Thanks for kicking my arse about Gareth. It was just what I needed to hear. Let’s hope we both get our men back this week – on our terms.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Josie agreed fervently. ‘Let me know how you get on, won’t you? I’ll be thinking about you.’

  ‘Same here. You are doing so well, you know. Have you got your plan of action all worked out?’

  Josie nodded. ‘Kind of,’ she said. A flurry of butterflies swirled around in her belly at the thought. ‘Are you sure you don’t want a lift to the station, by the way?’

  Nell shook her head. ‘I’ll walk,’ she said. ‘It’s a gorgeous day.’

  ‘Bye then,’ said Josie, hovering on the doorstep.

  ‘See ya,’ said Nell, and then she was off.

  Josie shut the door. It was Thursday morning now. They’d got back from Devon late last night No messages from Pete. No Pete camped out on the sofa. Only two terse messages on the answerphone from Barbara wanting to see the boys and demanding that Josie ring her back. Three sympathetic messages from her mum, asking if Josie wanted her to come and stay. And a whole number of beeps, where someone had phoned up and rung off without leaving a message. Lisa, probably. Not that Josie wanted to hear from her, of course.

  Still. She had her plan now, didn’t she? She could wait.

  Josie had woken at five-thirty, and had been so wide awake that she’d got up and done the first load of holiday washing before anyone else had even stirred. The boys were at playgroup now, the plants were all watered, the post opened and sorted, and the four cups of tea that she’d already had were sloshing around inside her.

  She couldn’t put it off any longer. She was going to launch her first strike in the Win Back Pete campaign. The fight to save her marriage started here!

  Pete worked in a dull grey office building on a horrible eyesore of an industrial estate, about two miles out of town. No wonder he was having a mid-life crisis, thought Josie as she parked the car a short while later. It was enough to make anyone feel depressed, coming to work in such an uninspiring place every day. Maybe that was the problem! If she could just persuade him to find a new job, it might be the kick-start he needed. Forget Sabine, forget all this other-woman shit … Maybe if she sent his CV off to a few recruitment agencies she could find a new job for him!

  Josie looked at herself in the rear-view mirror. One step at a time, she reminded herself. She had to get him back before she could start interfering in his career.

  She scrabbled in the glove compartment for her lipstick and rolled some on, smacked her lips and blotted them on a tissue. She checked her hair for dandruff-flake-free at the moment, she’d only just washed it that morning. All the same, she’d have to be careful to remember not to scratch her head at any time in his office. Freefall snowstorm was not the effect she was going for. Her chin was still flaky and dry, despite all the Vitamin D it had had from the sun, and her forehead resembled a page of Braille with all the stress pimples on it. Never mind. She had a tan, at least. She always looked better with a tan. Besides, he wouldn’t be looking at her chin or forehead, would he? Not with the outfit she was wearing today.

  Josie looked down and saw the plunging line of cleavage she had on display, tanned boobs pushed up together, jostling for space in the low V of her white blouse. Was this top a bit too revealing?

  She hoicked it up a little, suddenly self-conscious, then pulled it back down two seconds later. Pete had never complained about it before. Quite the contrary. He’d always had a thing about her boobs, so who cared what the rest of Mortimer Insurance thought? Desperate times called for desperate measures and all that, and you had to go into battle prepared, didn’t you? She couldn’t just stroll in there without making an impression.

  She sniffed her armpits surreptitiously. Blew into her hands and smelled her breath. Then she squared her shoulders.

  So. Here she was, in the car park, just a few hundred metres away from an unsuspecting Pete. Was she actually going to go through with this? Did she really have the bottle?

  She hesitated as she caught a glimpse of her cleavage in the mirror. Maybe this was a bit rash, a bit … desperate, after all. ‘What are you going to do?’ Nell had asked curiously, but Josie had avoided details.

  ‘Get him back, that’s what I’m going to do,’ she’d replied. Lock myself in his office, and seduce him over his own desk to remind him what he’s missing, she’d thought. She couldn’t risk telling Nell and seeing doubt on her friend’s face, though. Even a flicker of uncertainty would be enough to stop her doing this, she knew.

  Josie swallowed. The thing was, now that she’d thought about Nell and the doubtful expression she might have – would have – worn at hearing Josie’s plan, her nerve was ebbing away. There was still time to abandon the whole thing, still time to change her mind …

  She should change her mind. It was madness to imagine herself strutting brazenly into his office, charlies on display, grabbing him by the tie and pulling him towards her …

  No. She simply could not do it. Would not.

  She was just about to turn the key in the ignition and go home when she happened to see her wedding ring, still there on her finger, shining up at her where a shaft of sunlight had angled through the windscreen on to it.

  And then she hesitated all over again.

  It was a sign, wasn’t it? It was definitely a sign.

  She took a deep breath. Be brave, Josie! Be bold!

  She grabbed her handbag, checked the broken window was still wedged shut – it was, thanks to Nell shoving in a crease of cardboard to hold it up – and got out of the car.

  Yes. Oh, yes. She would go through with it. She had to put up a bit of a fight, after all, didn’t she? She couldn’t just give up on her marriage!

  ‘Peter Winter, I’m coming to get you,’ she muttered again as she pressed the automatic locking button on her key. ‘Ready or not.’

  Anne, the middle-aged receptionist, smiled as Josie walked in. ‘Hello, dear! Haven’t seen you for a while,’ she said. ‘Lovely weather, isn’t it?’ she added, waving her through the barrier.

  Josie’s heart beat fast as she smiled back and strolled as casually as she was able to the lift. So Anne clearly didn’t know anything had happened between her and Pete. Josie was relieved, but surprised too. She knew all too well what office rumours were like. One word at the water cooler was enough to set off a whole chain of whispers from desk to desk. Hadn’t Pete told anybody? Hadn’t Sara suspected anything when he suddenly took time off to go on his shagging holiday, wherever that had been? Or had the shagging holiday been booked in all along?

  Josie’s stomach lurched as the thought struck her. Oh God. Had he really been so calculating? Had he pencilled it neatly in his office diary – ‘May 20, Chuck Josie. May 21, Hols’?

  The lift pinged as it reached the ground floor, and she stepped into it. Come on. Don’t think about that now,
she told herself.

  Going up …

  She got the shakes as the lift began slowing to a smooth halt at Pete’s floor, and doubt swamped her all over again.

  What was she doing? What the hell was she doing? She was acting like a maniac! This was a mistake. As soon as the lift stopped, she would press the Ground Floor button and slink out of the building and home. The whole thing was the most stupid idea she’d ever had!

  Ping! ‘Level three,’ the automated voice cooed at her. ‘Doors opening.’

  Josie stabbed at the Close Doors button but the lift paid no attention, and the doors parted in front of her.

  ‘Hello, Josie! I didn’t know you were popping in today!’

  And there was Sara, standing right in front of her, waiting to use the lift herself. Spotted.

  Oh balls. Oh bollocks.

  ‘Hi, Sara,’ Josie said weakly, making no move to get out. ‘Actually, d’you know, I’m not sure I locked the car properly, so …’

  ‘Doors closing . . ,’

  ‘Oh, stupid bloody lift,’ Sara said, jabbing at a button in front of her.

  ‘Level three. Doors opening,’ the lift repeated in its smarmy robotic voice.

  ‘I’ll go and tell Pete you’re here,’ Sara said as the silver doors slid back once again. ‘He’s been working flat-out this week, I know hell be dead pleased with an interruption.’

  Josie stared after Sara as she trotted towards Pete’s office. She had to go through with this now, didn’t she? If she dodged downstairs and out of the building, Sara would definitely smell a rat. And Pete would get to hear that she’d been sneaking into the office and …

  ‘Doors closing …’

  But she couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t!

  ‘I’ve got to go,’ she called desperately to Sara as the doors began shuddering together all over again. ‘Sorry – I just remembered I—’

  ‘Going down …’

  Josie leaned against the wall of the lift as it swished downwards. Oh God. Oh God. She’d made such a fool of herself! I just remembered I …

  What? Just remembered what? She’d had absolutely no idea what was going to come out of her mouth next, the excuse had just started spilling out of her in her overwhelming urge to run away.

  She put her head in her hands. She was such an idiot! To think that she’d been on the verge of going into Pete’s office to try and seduce him, to win him back! Like that would have worked!

  ‘Doors opening. Ground floor.’

  She all but ran back to the car, head down, arms across her chest, not meeting anyone’s eye.

  Josie went straight to the kettle, direct as a heat-seeking missile. And then, when her hand was on its white plastic handle, halfway to the sink, she hesitated, catching sight of the wine glasses stacked neatly in the washing-up rack, from where she and Nell had tucked away a nice crisp end-of-holiday bottle of white the night before. It seemed ages ago now.

  She licked her lips. It was only eleven o’clock. It was too early for alcohol. She had the boys to pick up soon, and the whole afternoon to get through with them …

  She stood there, quite still, weighing it up. No. She shouldn’t. The playgroup staff would smell it on her breath and then the rumours would get even wilder. She’s taking it hard, you know. Oh yes, drinking before breakfast, I heard!

  She tore her eyes reluctantly from the wine glasses winking in the sunlight. Mother’s ruin and all that …

  But if she was already ruined, then what was the point of holding back? After what she’d so nearly done, why not go for all-out annihilation? What else did she have left to lose?

  She shuddered at the thought. What had she been thinking? Her cheeks flooded with colour at the vision of herself, done up like a dog’s dinner, all set to go and humiliate herself in front of the Mortimer Insurance staff.

  She put down the kettle abruptly and reached for one of the glasses. Sod it Sod what the playgroup workers thought. She’d just have one little …

  Ring-ring!

  The noise of the phone made her jump, and she snatched her fingers away, feeling absurdly guilty.

  Ring-ring!

  Her heart quickened as she went to the living room and picked up the receiver. ‘Hello?’

  It’s Barbara.’

  ‘Oh. Hello, Barbara.’ Josie rolled her eyes, wishing she’d necked the wine there and then while she had the chance. She needed something to get through a phone call with her mother-in-law, that was for sure.

  ‘I have already left several messages,’ Barbara said, without preamble, ‘so I was wondering why you hadn’t phoned me back. I do have rights, you know. I am their grandmother.’

  Josie rolled her eyes. How are you, Josie?

  Hows it all been, since my crappy son walked out on you, Josie? Goodness, it must be hard for you. I do sympathize! Oh, and how are my darling little grandsons? You’re bringing them up so nicely, you know, have I ever told you that?

  Right. Like Barbara even knew how to formulate a sentence without some kind of criticism.

  She gritted her teeth. ‘The thing is, Barbara, we’ve been away. All right? Only got back last night. So …’

  ‘Away? What do you mean, away? I’ve read about this in magazines. Suddenly the grandparents get cut out of the picture! And …’

  ‘Do you know what? I don’t actually have to listen to this,’ Josie said, interrupting her in full flow. She suddenly felt very tired and irritable. ‘And right now, I don’t want to either. Goodbye.’ She jabbed at the Talk button decisively, cutting her off. The receiver purred its dial tone as if amused.

  Bloody hell. Bloody hell! What was Barbara like? Her rights, indeed. Of all the sodding nerve!

  Josie crashed the receiver down and stomped towards the kitchen. She would have a drink now, and it would be all Barbara bloody Winter’s fault if she turned into a raging alkie. So there!

  She paused in the doorway as the phone started ringing again. Go away, Barbara. Not interested. Go and tell it to Roy, see if he wants to listen. Or, if you’re that bothered, tell the answerphone, get it all off your chest. Then Josie would be able to delete Barbara’s rantings with the press of a button, without having to hear a word of them. Sometimes technology was wonderful.

  The answerphone was doing its thing. ‘You have reached Pete, Josie, Toby and Sam …’

  She really had to change that soon. It made her flinch every time she heard Pete’s name spoken so cheerfully by her own voice. You have reached our happy little home …

  Not any more. What should she change it to? You have reached Josie, Toby and Sam. Leave us a message. If you want Pete, the wife abandoner, you’ll have to try him at Liars R Us on …

  She stopped at the sound of the new voice that was speaking – ‘Mrs Winter? It’s Maddie from the playgroup’ – and made a dash for the receiver.

  ‘Hello? Maddie? Yes, I am here. Sorry about that. Is everything all right?’

  ‘Well, no, actually,’ Maddie replied. ‘Toby seems a bit off-colour, and we think he should be home. Would you mind coming to pick him up?’

  ‘Toby? What’s wrong with him?’

  ‘His temperature’s up, and he’s been very quiet. Not like Toby.’

  ‘No. Poor thing. I’ll be two minutes, Maddie. Thank you.’

  Josie wriggled out of her seduction top as she hung up, and headed upstairs half naked. There was no way she was going to collect Toby looking like a prostitute, that was for sure. She pulled on some jeans and a T-shirt, then grabbed her door keys and raced out. Poor old Tobes, no doubt the excitement about going on holiday had caught up with him. All the late nights he’d had, too. And even though it had been fun for him and Sam in Devon, he was probably missing his dad.

  She’d think about that later, though. Much later.

  Josie panted along the road towards playgroup. It was only a few minutes from her house, luckily, and it wasn’t long before she was ringing the bell to get in. Maddie answered and took her through to where Toby w
as slumped on a sofa, not joining in with the singing like all the other children.

  Josie went over and stroked his hot head. His eyes had lost their usual cheeky sparkle and there was an ashen look to his face, despite his tan. She cuddled him close to her. ‘Let’s get you home, pumpkin,’ she said, stroking his sweaty hair. ‘Sit there a moment and I’ll get your sun hat.’

  Sam – unusually for him – was less pleased to be taken out of playgroup early. ‘Oh-h-h-h,’ he moaned, huffing out his bottom lip. ‘Do I have to go? I never finished my frog painting.’

  ‘Finish it another time,’ Josie told him. ‘Come on, Sam. I need to take Toby home, and I can’t drag him out again to get you later on.’ She ruffled his hair but his eyes were unusually mutinous. ‘Come on,’ she said more coaxingly. ‘I’ll put CBeebies on …’

  That did the trick. ‘O-k-a-a-ay,’ he sighed.

  They walked home together slowly. Toby wanted to be carried, but he was so heavy she couldn’t manage it the whole way. ‘Come on, tired boy,’ she said, lugging him on to her shoulders after he’d dragged his feet a whole ten metres. ‘You just need a good sleep, I think. Too much excitement lately, hmmm?’

  Back home, she put on CBeebies as promised and busied herself tidying up the living room. The embarrassment of being caught by Sara earlier had ebbed away, but she was still conscious of it prickling uncomfortably under her skin. Had Sara told Pete she’d been in the building? Oh yes, of course she would have done. Sara had always been the one to sidle up to Josie at the company’s Christmas parties and fill her in on all the gossip about everyone. Sara didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘discretion’ – she’d have trotted straight round to Pete, pencil-skirted bottom wiggling with importance as she click-clacked through the office … ‘Josie’s just been in! Looked all flustered and ran off, though. Bit odd, I thought! All dressed up she was, too; were you two meant to be having lunch together or something?’

  The colour surged back into her cheeks as she tried to shake the scene from her head, but it was no good: she couldn’t stop herself imagining the shocked expression on Pete’s face as he heard that she’d actually been there, had had the nerve to swish up to the third floor of Mortimer Insurance and—