The Woman He Loved Before (2 page)

‘Now, Libby, do you want the interior and exterior treatment that will protect the car? It would be helpful with kids. Stops drinks and things spoiling that fantastic leather. And with living in Brighton, with the salty air—’

‘Gaz, my man!’ someone interrupted. I looked up at the interloper, standing inches from me. He was wearing large, black-lensed Aviator sunglasses inside. That was pretty much all I needed to get the full measure of him. The rest of him – his height, his wavy blond-brown hair, his well-groomed face, the thick gold band on the third finger of his right hand, and his body clothed in a Ralph Lauren shirt, Calvin Klein jeans, and Tag Heuer watch – were all inconsequential to the fact he wore sunglasses indoors.

Gareth jumped to his feet, his face overtaken by a grin, his eyes lighting up. ‘Jack! Good to see you.’ He eagerly held out his hand for ‘Jack’ to shake, excited by the chance to be touched by him. I’d seen some man-on-man crushes in my time, but this was so fervent it was embarrassing. I could imagine Gareth sitting home alone late at night, his phone by his side, waiting and waiting for that phone call where Jack invites him out to drink champagne and grope good-looking women.

‘I need your help, buddy,’ Jack said, warmly. If you didn’t know better, you’d think ‘Jack’ genuinely liked Gareth when, in reality, Jack probably treated most people with disdain and mild contempt – it sat there plainly on his forehead and in the way he stood.

‘One minute,’ Gareth barely managed to throw in my direction as Jack slung his arm around Gareth’s shoulders and started to walk him away from his desk.

‘Gareth, I’ve messed up, again. I was wondering if you could get one of the lads to take the dents out of the Z4 – today, if possible. The regular dealer said next week, but I knew you were the go-to man to get it done today or tomorrow.’

‘Yeah, sure,’ were the last words I heard from Gareth as the pair of them wandered off across the shiny white and chrome showroom.

I spun in my seat and watched them standing by the large curved reception desk: Jack a full head taller than Gareth, his feet planted wide apart, his sunglasses in place while he made crude gestures in his chest area, obviously making reference to a woman’s breasts. Gareth was lapping it up, his eyes agog, listening. I had taken the day off work to come here and buy this car. And Jack, who probably didn’t even know what work was, had just wandered in and was getting his problem seen to straight away.

I looked out at my car again. My little beauty. I loved her, but not enough to be treated like this. There were plenty of other places much nearer to home where I could sit and be ignored before handing over a large sum of cash. Unfortunately for Gareth, while I’d got my debit card out of my purse and into his possession, he hadn’t got around to swiping it through the machine. Which meant I could still walk away without losing anything but a little time. I stood up, plucked my driving licence and debit card from among the papers on Gareth’s desk, shoved them into my bag, then hooked my bag decisively over my shoulder. Gareth could keep some other mug waiting; this one had waited long enough and she was off.

Shooting them both a look of pure contempt, I stalked to the door and pushed it open.

‘Libby?’ Gareth called after me. ‘Erm, wait, I’ll be with you in a minute.’

As my hand connected with the door I turned to him, and over my shoulder I shot him another contempt-soaked look and carried on.

Outside was hot but the air, laden with the promise of rain, weighed heavily on my shoulders. I inhaled and braved a last, longing look at my car before I walked slowly down the wide drive of the showroom and out onto the busy main road. I turned right, towards the bus stop. I was somewhere between indignant and sad: indignant at the way Jack had waltzed in and interrupted our chat without a second thought, and sad because my impulsiveness had stopped me getting the car I really loved.
Agh!
I’d have to start my search again – after I’d run the gauntlet of bus, train and bus to get home. So much for my day off.

‘Libby, Libby!’ A man’s voice called.

I didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. Seconds later, he appeared in my path, which stopped me from walking. His sunglasses were still in place.

‘I’m really sorry about that,’ he said. ‘I just—’

‘Didn’t feel the need to wait your turn because an insignificant woman was sitting there and you’re so incredibly important your needs come first?’ I asked.

He was shocked enough to strip his face of his sunglasses and stare at me. ‘Not sure how to respond to that, really,’ he admitted.

‘Maybe there is no response,
Jack
,’ I replied.

His face did a double-take: obviously people rarely answered him in this manner. ‘Maybe an apology would be the appropriate response,’ he offered.

I shrugged. ‘Maybe.’

‘I’m sorry. What I did was rude. I should not have interrupted your meeting, and I can only apologise for that.’

There was an unpleasant nuance to his apology: he had pitched it so that the words were technically correct, his tone of voice was contrite, but everything was smeared with ridicule. He was taking the piss out of me. He probably took the piss out of everything and got away with it because most people were left unsure of whether he was being sincere or whether they were being hypersensitive.

‘Was that it? The best you can do? Wow, I hope you never have to apologise in your day job because you are rubbish at it,’ I said. ‘And if that was your idea of subtly taking the piss out of me then I feel even more sorry for you than I did a few seconds ago because you’re even more rubbish at that.’ I stepped around him and continued my journey towards the bus stop.

When I’d seen the beautiful little car on the forecourt, I’d been able to picture myself cruising along, the radio on loud, the windows wide open, my voice mingling with the singers on the radio.
Even being stuck in traffic wouldn’t have been so bad because I’d be safe in my own little cocooned world. Now, thanks to his arrogance and my pride, I’d have to start looking from scratch.

And there he was again: Jack. Standing in front of me, blocking me from going any further.

‘What do you want now?’ I asked.

‘Look, I really am sorry,’ he said. ‘As a result of my actions Gareth has lost a sale. It’s not fair on him that my visit has potentially cost him his livelihood.’

‘His livelihood?’ I said, smearing my tone with his particular type of ridicule. It did not sit right with me, but this man clearly needed to be dealt with on his level. ‘His whole
livelihood
rests upon the sale of one little car?’

‘No, but it’s not good to lose customers in this current economic climate. And he’ll be doubly screwed if you go around telling people. That was all my fault. I’m sorry. Truly. Please can you give Gareth another chance? He’s a decent man trying to make a living. I’m an idiot for messing around with that.’

‘You’ll get no arguments on that from me.’

‘Please, will you give him another chance?’

The picture of me cruising along, window open, stereo on, singing out loud, danced across my mind. Gareth would be nice now. He’d stop trying to sell me extras and would want me to sign on the dotted line as soon as possible. And I did so love that little vehicle …

‘You’re always cutting off your nose to spite your face,’
my best friend Angela often told me
. ‘I’ve never met a woman as stubborn as you. Even when it’s not in your interests you’ll do something to make a point. Sometimes, sweetheart, you need to go with the flow.’

Car versus Tell this man where to go?

There really was only one option.

‘She’s still awake.’

‘Awake?’

‘Her eyes might be closed, but she’s trying to speak.’

‘Libby likes to talk.’

‘You don’t, do you, Jack? Not about anything that really matters.’

‘Keep talking to her, it’ll help.’

‘Libby? It’s me, Jack. I’m right here. Everything’s going to be OK. You’re going to be just fine.’

‘I don’t feel fine. I don’t feel much of any—’

‘What’s the ETA?’

‘About three minutes. We should have got a doctor to come to the scene.’

‘They said there was no one available. Put your foot down. Oh, BP has just gone through the floor.’

July, 2008

Jack was sitting on the bonnet of a red car, chewing on bites of an apple when I had finally finished with Gareth. His long legs were drawn up towards his chest and splayed out at the knees, while he rested his elbows on his knees. I gave him a passing glance, a nod, then began towards the driveway.

‘All sorted then?’ he called at me, taking off his sunglasses.

‘Yes. All sorted.’

‘Good.’

Unexpectedly, the driver’s side door of the car he sat on popped open, and a pair of bronzed, slender legs in a pair of Prada sandals stepped out. The owner of the legs slowly uncurled herself from the car and was, of course, beautiful: perfectly applied make-up, shoulder-length honey-blonde hair, a short, floaty Gucci number and a diamond-encrusted Rolex on her wrist. They could not be a more clichéd couple if they tried.

‘Grace, this is Libby. Libby, this is Grace, my best friend’s wife. She’s here to drive me home while my car is being fixed.’

‘Hi,’ I said to her, wondering why he’d been at pains to clarify that she wasn’t his girlfriend.

She smiled warmly, which wrong-footed me: in my job, I met women like her all the time and they generally behaved how Jack
behaved – as if the world revolved around them. ‘Hello,’ she said, the corner of her nude-lipsticked mouth turning up a fraction in slight amusement. If she wasn’t his girlfriend, she probably liked the idea of Jack having to apologise. ‘Pleased to meet you.’

‘You too,’ I said.

I nodded goodbye to them and then continued walking towards the bus stop. A minute later, he was in front of me again. He wiped the apple juice that had been glistening on his lips on the back of his hand and tucked his sunglasses in his top pocket.

‘Is that it?’ he asked.

‘Is what it?’ I replied.

‘You and me, done and dusted?’

‘Was there ever a you and me?’ I asked.

‘I thought there was a little frisson earlier. Something we could work on.’

‘Frisson? You mean, you taking the piss out of me and me saying you were rubbish?
That
was a frisson? I feel really sorry for the women you go out with.’

‘So this,’ he moved his forefinger in the space between us, ‘isn’t going anywhere?’

‘Where did you think it would go?’

‘To dinner or a drink?’

‘Jack, I’m sorry to say I don’t particularly like you. Your clearly over-inflated sense of entitlement keeps bringing out the not very nice side of me. See? I would never normally say that to someone – and believe me, I meet a lot of odorous people on a daily basis so I do know how to keep it in – but with you, I can’t help it. So, no, I don’t see this going anywhere.’

He studied me silently, his eyebrows knitted slightly together as his moss-green eyes held mine. ‘At least tell me your full name.’

‘Why?’

‘So I can forever remember the one person who didn’t fall for my charm, or lack thereof.’

The promise of rain in the air suddenly fulfilled itself, spilling
out onto the world. This rain in early July was incredibly welcome: beautiful and calming. I lifted my face to the sky, smiling as the drops gently exploded on my skin. It was the enemy of my hair, would make me a frizzy mess in less time than it took to boil water, but I still loved the cooling touch of rain.

As I lowered my head, I saw on the horizon behind Jack, the large lumbering shape of a bus. It was going in my direction and I had to be on it if I had any hope of salvaging what was left of my day off. ‘No, you can’t have my full name,’ I said to him. ‘I know you’ll just Google it, because you can’t help yourself, and then you’ll have to call whatever number you find because, again, you won’t be able to help yourself. Believe me, it’s better like this.’ As I spoke, I ferreted in my bag for my one-day travel pass. Finally finding it lodged between the book I was reading and my umbrella, I pulled it free. ‘Goodbye, again.’ Without waiting for a response, I stepped around him to start running down the slick pavement for the bus stop.

‘Libby!’ he called to me.

I stopped, turned around. ‘Yes?’ I asked, pushing locks of my wet black hair off my face.

He smiled, shook his head. ‘Nothing. I’ll see you around.’

I shrugged. ‘Anything’s possible.’ I turned and sprinted towards the bus stop, arriving just in time to get on.

Jack stood in the same spot and waved at me as the bus went past.

I gave him a wan smile then looked out of the front window to concentrate on where I was going, which was away from this place.

‘BP’s still dropping, she’s extremely tachycardic.’

Why is only part of my life flashing before my eyes? What about everything else? Doesn’t the rest of my life count?

‘We need to get more fluids into her.’