Just Between Us Read online

  “Nails, no tan, and maybe eyebrows,” I said quickly, fending off her efforts.

  “Deal.” She grinned. “Do you hear that Mick? My baby is getting dressed. Thanks Kyle.” She beamed his way.

  My Mum took me to the salon later that day. I had my eyebrows waxed, and we both had our nails done. She tried to convince me to have a hair wash and blow dry.

  “You are letting yourself go, Sophie,” she sighed after leaving the salon as we were enjoying a coffee in a nearby coffee shop. I kept my sunglasses on, praying that no one would see me and ask questions about Simon. I was humiliated and in no mood to explain.

  “Mum, I can’t focus on anything right now. I’m devastated.”

  “You’re in a slump,” she said to me with a sympathetic smile, “After your Dad and I broke up, I couldn’t do this. I had a job and you to care for. You need something to focus on.”

  “Well, remind me I have nothing to live for why don’t you! No kids, no job to focus on because school is finished for summer. Great.”

  “No,” she shook her head, exasperated, “Please Sophie, no man is worth this, and you can do so much better. You’re beautiful.”

  “But I don’t want to start again,” I sighed, “I was happy, all set, comfortable. I don’t want to date and meet people and start from scratch. I’ve lost my happy ending.” I sniffed.

  “No,” she leaned over the table, “Simon has given you the chance to find it.” I thought about her words. Yes it hurt and yes I was majorly depressed, but was Simon everything that I always wanted, or was I trying to make it fit? We were great together weren’t we? We had great friends, a great social life, great sex, and a lovely home. We had it all and so why? Why did he want it to end? I hadn’t spoken to him since the day I left to move home, no phone calls or text messages. The Estate Agent kept me informed of house information and even though Mick offered to buy Simon out and for me to have the house I didn’t want it. Simon just wasn’t bothered because he had never tried to contact me. He said it was over, and I left, and he was obviously glad. Prick. Tears started to well again behind my sunglasses.

  “Oh love. I can’t bear this. What happened to my girl who knew she could have anyone?” She sighed.

  “Someone broke her heart,” I whispered. She thought I meant Simon, but Simon had saved me as my heart was broken way before he came along.

  Mum managed to talk me into a last minute blow dry, but no cut. She was well known in the little seaside town where we lived, and she and her friends spent a lot of money in the local salons, enough to get last minute appointments when required. She took me to her salon and to the girl who did her hair, Trudy. I was concerned as my mother’s hairstyle hadn’t changed much in the last decade, and she liked it in a particular style that, even though it suited her, had had its day. She wore a long, sleek, blonde bob with a sweeping fringe, and I didn’t want that. However, Trudy turned out to be a genius. She could fashion hair exactly to the patron’s needs.

  Mum got me settled and then left to browse the local shops.

  “Do as much as you can Trudy,” she sighed. “She’s being difficult and doesn’t want a style or a colour.”

  Trudy looked to me, “Well we can do whatever you want.”

  “You are both treating me like a child, I am here, I can hear you and I don’t need a cut.” At that I let my hair fall from the bobble that held it on top of my head, it’s natural curl had allowed the hair to become matted and it stuck out to the side like dry straw.

  “Oh,” Trudy said, involuntarily and then noticed her mistake. “Right, mmm.”

  My mother left, and I looked up to Trudy through the mirror.

  “Do whatever you want,” I rolled my eyes, “if it means that it keeps me away from my Mum for a bit longer.”

  “Great.” She smiled. “I’ll get my colour chart.”

  Two hours later I left the hair salon a little more refreshed. I managed not to cry whilst I was in there and was glad for the inane chatter that surrounded me. Trudy highlighted my hair in foils, and it was lighter than I usually wore it, almost white in places, and it did make me feel brighter. She cut a fringe in and styled my hair into long choppy layers that she curled smoothly at the ends, so it gave a coiffed effect. I was pleased; I looked better and my hair was smooth once again. As she took the tabard off I caught sight of myself. I looked human again, better in fact, and I saw a smile in the mirror that I hadn’t seen for a while.

  “Right, thanks Trudy,” I made my way to the counter, “How much?”

  “Oh,” she waved my hand away, “your mum already paid. She came back in before when you were in the foils.”

  “Oh right, great, it’s like I’m twelve again.” I went into my purse anyway and gave her a generous tip. “You’re a miracle worker,” I said, “I feel like a million dollars.”

  “Well you look it,” she said. “See you again, I hope.”

  “Thanks.”

  I left and called my mum on her mobile to see where she had got to, and she swung by in her cherry red Range Rover to pick me up. Mum had her own money. Despite Mick’s wealth, she had stacks of it from property that she rented out and also the family textile business.

  “Oh Sophie, you look gorgeous.” She gave me a knowing grin as if to say I told you so. “Do you feel better?”

  “I hate to say it but I do. I really do.”

  “Good.”

  We made our way home, the house that she and Mick had bought together was a huge five bedroom home, on a new build housing estate in Lytham. The estate was huge and full of hundreds of palatial homes of varying styles and sizes, situated around a regal green space that housed ornate ponds and grasslands. It was a beautiful estate and Mum had excitedly picked our home from the plan when it was being built.

  The house had a covered heated swimming pool in the back garden, three storeys and five bathrooms. Mick had a gym in one bedroom, one was a guest room that rarely got used, and we occupied the others. The whole top floor had been a master bedroom but was converted into a party room, or that’s what we called it. It had a cinema area with a huge TV and comfy chairs, a bar, a small dance floor, and a pool table. It hadn’t been used much since I had been home this time, and so I wasn’t sure if Mum and Mick actually went up there any more. My friends and I had loved it as teenagers.

  It was dinner-time when we got home, and as we entered I could smell food, and so we made our way into the kitchen. “Who cooked?” Mum asked, surprised. She was a typical housewife and loved it. She did work and had always run her family’s firm, but her favourite job was caring for us. Mick loved that about her, as his ex-wife was a spoilt rich bitch by all accounts, even Kyle agreed. She had taken Mick’s success for granted, been with him through the tough years, and spent time making the most of the spoils as they grew older. She had a taste for all things expensive and eventually grew bored of being Mick’s wife; they drifted apart but remained civil for Kyle. So Mick seemed to love the way Mum indulged him, mothered him, and cared for him, something his previous wife wouldn’t even entertain.

  “I did,” Kyle said, looking up from the hob.

  “You know me, love,” Mick looked up to her indulgently, “I wouldn’t be able to fry an egg, can’t compete with you in the kitchen.”

  I walked into the kitchen and prepared myself.

  “Bloody hell,” Mick gasped, “what happened to that tramp you took out this morning? Looks like the fairy godmother has been around here somewhere.”

  “Ha ha Mick,” I said sarcastically, “very funny.”

  “Well it’s good to see you back, Soph. I much prefer you like that than sporting the homeless look.”

  “Well?” I looked to Kyle. “Let’s get all the witty comments out of the way now so I can eat whatever you’re making in peace.”

  “You’re going to eat?” Mum said with a slight giggle, “Wow things are turning around.”

  “Thank God,” Mick sighed.

  Kyle looked at me, his blue eyes me
t mine, and he just smiled.

  “Looking good, Soph.” He said casually.

  “Okay,” I nodded, “fine, no witty comments now, but don’t expect you can make jokes later.”

  “So we still off out then?” he asked.

  “Dead right, I’ve been made over within an inch of my life and it’s about time this pity party hit the shots.”

  “Crikey.”

  “What have you made then?” Mum asked, poking around where Kyle stood.

  “Chilli.” He beamed for her approval.

  “Ooo lovely,” she crooned, “what a treat.”

  We ate dinner. Mum and Mick cracked open the wine, and we all had a few glasses. I could tell they were overjoyed to have us both home as Mum must have mentioned it at least twenty times. Her favourite line was, “Oh it’s just like old times.” We laughed about Mick’s new hobbies that he was trying to acquire for his retirement but failing miserably. Kyle told us stories about parties he had attended and name-dropped quite frequently, his ego revealing itself again. I stayed quiet and just enjoyed the noise, the laughter that bubbled up from their stories helped to ease the pain, and the noise drowned out my own thoughts. It was as if Kyle had brought some much-needed joy back to our four walls.

  I hadn’t packed a lot when I moved home and party dresses hadn’t been the top of my list when I did pack my things, however I managed to find some skinny jeans and a black silk top that could pass as a “going out” outfit. I borrowed some of Mum’s black Louboutins and used her make-up to mask my misery. When I stepped out of my room an hour or so later, Kyle was also walking out of his room. He wore dark blue jeans, black, leather dress shoes and a tight black shirt that looked good on his toned body. He looked me up and down, and not a word was spoken for a second.

  “We match,” I recovered, and he smiled at me.

  “You look great Soph, that prick has no idea what he’s done.”

  “You think?” I laughed, embarrassed. We had already drunk some wine and it had loosened my misery a little.

  “I know.” He grinned.

  We made our way downstairs and found our respective parents out on the patio, enjoying more wine in the evening sunshine. Mum was laughing as Mick filled her in on a recent story from the golf club. He loved to entertain her and was grateful for her undivided attention. She gave it so willingly that it was a pleasure to watch them together. To think years before I was worried that Mick would break her heart. I thought he was a womanising, smarmy car dealer who would use her and cast her aside. However, he didn’t; he was never that man, he adored mum and she him. They were great together.

  “Right, we’ll get a taxi,” Kyle said.

  “Oh you two look adorable,” Mum said, her laughter still lingering in her voice. “Wait, let me get a picture.” She dashed off for her camera, and Mick reclined his chair to take in the last of the day’s warmth.

  “You two got enough cash?” he barked, his voice was so deep and commandeering that everything he said sounded like an order.

  “Dad we’re almost thirty for God’s sake, we have our own money now.” Kyle said.

  “Old habits,” he said, winking.

  “Right, smile,” Mum said from behind us, and we both groaned. Kyle slipped his arm around my waist and pulled me to him. We both smiled and she shouted, “Cheese!” We grinned as she clicked away.

  “So good to have you both back,” she tittered, heading back to her wine. “Have a good time,”

  “We will!” Kyle shouted over his shoulder, pulling me towards the door.

  “Bye!” I yelped as we left at speed,

  “Shit … we need to get out of here before they get the video camera out.” I laughed again, and we waited outside for the taxi.

  Kyle lit a cigarette. “Wow, you still smoke?” I asked, “Thought we’d grown out of that.”

  “Only when I have a drink,” he said with a tight mouth as he lit the cigarette. “Want one?”

  “God no, I haven’t smoked for years, Simon …” I stopped myself. Simon never liked me smoking, and so I gave it up.

  “Oh fuck it, give me one,” I demanded. He laughed and gave me his already lit cigarette, getting another for himself. I inhaled and coughed straight away, but I was determined to finish this cigarette, and I was determined to be happy again. I wanted to be Sophie King again. I wanted to be the girl who loved her life, her friends. I wanted a heart full of something other than sorrow. The last time I had felt like that Kyle was there too, and after a few wines and this cigarette it was so easy to remember why.

  We made our way into Blackpool and hit the bars. It was relatively easy for us to reconnect after a few drinks and I felt more relaxed and carefree than I had for a while. We went to cheesy bars and sang along to 80’s tunes, then we went to classy bars and sipped cocktails. By 2 am we were in a sweaty club, dancing like teenagers on the dance floor. Kyle held me to him as we jumped in the air to “Mr Brightside,” screaming the words to each other and laughing so hard that my jaw ached. After the song had finished Kyle motioned for me to follow him to the bar, we made our way through the crowds, and he ordered two tequila shots.

  “Come home with me!” he shouted, as he held the shot to me.

  “What?” I asked, my drunken confused state filling my ears. I mustn’t have heard him right; we hadn’t spoken two words for years, and now he was asking me what exactly?

  “Come back to London with me.” He patted his chest.

  “Why?” I gasped, still out of breath from our dancing, aware that my newly styled fringe was stuck to my head with sweat. “What?”

  “To forget.” He threw his shot back. “You’re not back in work for a few weeks, school’s on holiday, and this place is just a constant reminder. You need to get away.”

  I knocked my shot back too and closed my eyes as it hit my stomach, burning my throat as it went. “We forgot the salt and lemon,” I said, and his eyes were still blazing into me.

  “Fuck that. I’m serious, Soph. This place is killing you. Come to London, I promise you’ll have the summer of your life, and I’ll make sure you forget that idiot.” He was watching me closely for a reaction.

  “How?” Tears filled my eyes. “How will that ever happen? I just can’t see it.” I wiped tears away, and he looked to me solemnly.

  “You need to try, Okay? You need a change of scenery and you need to try and forget. I’ll take you out, we’ll live it up, we’ll have fun, and I promise you I’ll show you how to forget. Shit, Soph, this should never have been you, stuck here, a teacher, marrying some every day Joe, and living in a normal house. You weren’t supposed to be a housewife.”

  “What?” I pushed away from him, offended, the truth was out now after a few drinks, now I knew how he really felt. “There’s nothing wrong with being a teacher, staying here, and being someone’s wife. We can’t all live the high life in London.”

  “No,” he grabbed my wrists, “I meant you are so much more than just someone’s wife. You deserve more than this.”

  “This is all I ever wanted.” I sighed.

  “Really?” I looked into his eyes as his serious expression bore into me. “Please come back with me, if only for a few days. Let me help you get out of here. You’re a mess, it’s just not like you.”

  “You’ll make me better?” I asked, incredulously.

  He smiled at me and ordered more shots. “No funny business,” he said seriously, “and I guarantee it’ll help you forget, and if it doesn’t, I’ll …” he thought for a second, “I’ll run a marathon … naked.”

  I laughed out loud. “Naked? You must be confident of winning, with a horrendous body like yours,” I said, sarcastically, shaking my head, and he loosened a little, his smug grin back. “Okay,” I agreed.

  “Okay?” He laughed as more shots were placed in front of us, “Fucking yeah, we’ll have the best summer ever.”

  “We are almost thirty, you know.” I rolled my eyes. “Not teenagers anymore.”

  “
Ah sod it. Thirty is the new seventeen,” and with that we threw our shots back.

  The next morning I awoke with a hangover and ran to our shared bathroom to be sick. Twenty minutes later I was propped up against the toilet wondering if I would be sick again. Kyle poked his head around the door.

  “Get out!” I shouted. Damn I had forgotten to lock the door that led to his room.

  “Wow, you look like shit.”

  I groaned, “OUT!”

  “You haven’t forgotten that you’re coming home with me today?” He shouted through the door.

  “Today?” I groaned. “I …” I tried desperately to think of a way to get out of this one. Surely he wouldn’t hold me to this.

  “Soph, we’ve been over this. As Sheryl Crow once said, ‘A change will do you good’ and you agreed.”

  “But we were drunk, and this is my home and …”

  “You’re miserable, holed up in your teenage bedroom whilst Mr Dick Head sits pretty in your house. So you’ll come with me, get away from it all, and come back in September, refreshed.”

  “Really?” I felt the need to vomit again. “I haven’t packed, and I don’t have enough stuff.”

  “Well pack, and what you haven’t got, we’ll buy new,” he said, cheerfully.

  “How are you so chipper at this time in the morning after what we drank last night?”

  “You got a man and settled down, whilst I got better at drinking.”

  “Oh,” I said, “Right, um, well …”

  “Better get packing!” he shouted through the door, and with that he left me to be sick again. I didn’t have the energy to resist and I had to be honest trying to take a break from my misery seemed like a very good idea.

  Three - Just awkward

  Old Times

  When my mum met Mick I was fourteen years old. She told me he had a son, Kyle Hanson, at my school before her first date with him. I had groaned and told her what an idiot he was, always acting up in class. He hung around with the popular kids who picked on other kids like me, thinking of harsh nicknames, and always looking gorgeously flawless whilst the rest of us struggled with the usual teenage trauma of spots and bad hair days. They dated for six months before I met Mick. Mum was cautious, and she was careful not to upset me, after all, I still missed living with my dad. Kyle never acknowledged me at school. If he knew our parents were dating he never let on and neither did I.