Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow? (16 page)

And I know it’s ridiculous, but this feels exactly the same; like I’m leaving Dan, even though of course we both know that I’m not. This is just temporary time apart, that’s what I keep telling myself, over and over again. It’s all transitory and I’ll probably be back before it really hits him that I’ve even left.

I have to say though, in his own way, Dan has really surprised me and come up trumps, promising me that not only has he cleared his schedule so we can have this last, precious night together, but that he’ll also drive me all the way to Dublin airport tomorrow too. Equally important to me, as I’ve spent so much time talking about him to the others in the cast that I really want them all to meet him properly before we leave. He knows Liz, of course, but not the others, and it means an awful lot to me that they’ll at least be able to put a face to his name.

Anyroadup, it’s a Sunday evening, the surgery is closed, so the only thing that might possibly keep us apart tonight is some last-minute emergency farm call. But James, our intern, has very kindly offered to take the phones this one night, so unbelievably, it is actually…for once…looking like Dan and I will have…pause for dramatic effect…this last, precious night alone together.

You just wouldn’t believe the bother I’ve gone to. I’ve
decided not to cook for once, but instead to order some take-away grub from the Chinese restaurant in the village that Dan loves so much. (I’m not joking, the food there is so delicious that you just want to drool over it saying, ‘
hellooooooo, Clarice
,’) I’ve even splashed out on a bottle of really pricey Chateau Margaux because it’s what we drank at our wedding reception and we loved it and I want tonight to be another blissfully happy memory, just like the wedding was.

Because I’ve planned this evening with military precision – this is to be a night of sex and seduction like we haven’t had in years. I’ve dotted placed flickering candles all over the drawing room, not only because it makes the place look so romantic, but dim lighting also helps to minimise the full glaring horror of Audrey’s grotesque wallpaper and plaid carpet. Plus I look better in flickering light and this is how I want Dan to remember me; a sex kitten wife, and not this pale, exhausted wreck, nervous as a turkey at Christmas about what lies ahead. For the first time in years, I’m even wearing stockings. And OK, so I might look a bit like a bad Christmas, but what the hell; we need this last night and by God, if it’s the last thing we do, I’m determined that we’re both going to enjoy it. Just the two of us.

Earlier in the day, I made a point of calling round to Audrey’s apartment in the village, to say goodbye to her properly.

Now if there’s one thing I’ve learned about my esteemed mother-in-law ever since I got this job, it’s this: in order to really rub in her utter disapproval of my taking off, sulking has become her preferred form of attrition. My phone has totally stopped ringing, almost deafening me with its silence and if I happened to give her a duty phone call from
rehearsals to see if she needed anything dropped into her on my way home from work, she’d just sniff that she was perfectly fine, then hang up on me, making full sure that she really,
really
laid the guilt trip on with a trowel.

So I steeled myself to make the farewell courtesy call just to show that there were no hard feelings on my side, although why I bothered, I don’t know. She didn’t even bother to lower the volume on the TV and when I tried to give her a peck on her papery thin cheek to say goodbye, she pointedly turned the other way, nose parallel to the ceiling.

But when I got back to The Moorings Jules was there, thank God, sitting at the kitchen table eating the remains of last night’s chicken curry…the perfect antidote. She was an absolute doll and told me not to pay the slightest bit of attention to the old gizzard, that it would all blow over soon enough. Then, bless her, when she copped on that I’d a whole romantic night of passion planned, she tactfully offered to make herself scarce and, for once, I didn’t argue.

We hugged in the hallway and because we both hate and despise the finality of goodbyes, Jules promised to call over to The Moorings the next morning before we left for Dublin airport, so we could say a last final farewell. But we both knew that this was just a polite, face-saving lie; the airport check-in time was one pm latest, which meant leaving The Sticks at around ten am, and bar her house was on fire, there’s just no way on earth she’d ever be able to haul herself out of bed at that ungodly hour.

I squeezed her, tearing up a bit and told her that I’d see her in New York.

‘You better believe it, bitch!’ she laughed, but I knew
right well she was getting a bit wobbly too. Jules doesn’t often have adult emotions but I think she had one this afternoon, knowing I really was going and that she’d really be left totally alone, with only Audrey for company.

I felt a massive pang of sympathy for the poor girl and there and then resolved to pay for her flight to New York myself, as soon as I’d saved up enough, then give her the time of her life when she got there.

Least I could do for my old ally.

It’s now just past seven and Dan is only out at Paddy Jackson’s farm, which isn’t far away, only about five miles or so. It’s not an emergency call either, so I’m confident he’ll be home any minute now. In the meantime, I’m running demented around the house, frantically ticking off a last-minute checklist in my head.

Fire blazing cosily away? Check. Scented candles tastefully dotted around the drawing room? Check. Me scrubbed, exfoliated, waxed and polished to within an inch of my life? Check. Wearing my one and only sexy ‘serial result’ black lace nightie with matching flouncy dressing gown, courtesy of Marks & Spencer? Check. Half a can of serum in my bushy, wild hair in an effort to get it to sit flat? Check. Chinese take-away on speed dial? Check.

I’m just up in the bedroom squirting a bottle of Jo Malone Fresh Lime Blossom perfume into a haze, then walking through it, when I hear a car scrunch up on the gravel drive outside.

Showtime.

I race down the stairs, yelling out, ‘On the way, love! I’m coming…’ trip over to the front door and just as I’m stretching up to the ancient overhead bolt to yank it back,
one of those random, worrying thoughts suddenly flashes through my mind…why don’t I hear the dogs barking? Dan took them out with him this afternoon and they always go mental whenever they get home…odd.

Quick as I can, I push the heavy oak door open…and standing there, looking as pale and pinched as ever is none other than Lisa Ledbetter. The Countess Dracula herself.

‘Look at the state of you, Annie,’ is her snide little opener when she sees how I’m dressed. ‘Don’t you know that it’s below freezing outside? Put on something warm or you’ll get pneumonia.’

She tries to push past me but for once I don’t let her. I block her way, with my arms folded and my face I’m sure looking like thunder at this intrusion. Rude, I know. Unwelcoming, I know, but just this once I don’t happen to care. This is my last precious night with Dan for God knows how long and she is NOT going to hijack it on me. Over my dead body. So I just stand in front of her, pointedly not inviting her in and I’m sure, given the way I’m dressed, looking a bit like the madam of a brothel in an amateur production of
The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas.

‘Lisa,’ I manage to say as evenly as I can, ‘I didn’t expect to see you…’

‘Don’t be so ridiculous, Annie, it’s your last night! Did you honestly think that I was going to let you disappear off to the States without at least giving you an American wake?’

Shit, she intends staying then. Oh who am I kidding? This is the Countess Dracula, of course she intended to stay all along. I hold firm though and for once don’t let her bulldoze over me.

She looks at me, irritated.

‘So are you going to let me in or what, Annie? In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s bloody freezing out here.’

‘’Fraid not, Lisa. Really, really bad time. Couldn’t be worse. I’m expecting Dan home any minute now and I’ve sort of planned a dinner for the two for us.
Just
for the two of us, unfortunately. But it’s sweet of you to call and I’ll tell you what, why don’t I ring you before I leave in the morning…’

‘Oh for God’s sake, will you kindly let me in and stop being so bloody dismissive? Don’t worry, I’ll leave as soon as Dan gets home…’

I take this with the massive pinch of salt it deserves; the Countess Dracula has never once in her entire life under-stayed her welcome. One good thing though, if I’m not going to see Dan again in so long, I certainly won’t have to look at this one either, so does it really matter if I’m discourtesy itself right now?

‘Lisa,’ I say, trying my best to stand tall in my ridiculous little fluffy slippers, ‘ordinarily, you’d be more than welcome, but not this evening. Sorry, but it’s my last night and I really had plans to spend it with my husband. Alone. Anyway, I’d really better get going…’

She looks at me a bit winded, totally unused to my standing up to her and for one brief, shining moment I think I’ve actually won the day when next thing, the hall phone starts ringing.

‘Probably him,’ I say curtly, glaring at her with what I can only hope is a look of chilled steel. ‘So if you don’t mind, Lisa, I’d better get going, but thanks so much for thinking of me…’

‘Oh, don’t be so ridiculous, do you know all the trouble I went to to get out this evening? I had to practically
strong-arm Charlie into babysitting the kids for the night so if you think I’m letting this free pass go to waste, then you’ve another think coming. Now, for the last time, will you kindly let me in before I catch my death standing out here? One quick little glass of wine, and then I’ll go.’

I’m glaring at her now, white anger bubbling up inside me, fighting the impulse to tell her a few home truths. I want to yell at her that she annoys me more than a little…oh and by ‘more than a little’, I actually mean more than any person I ever met in my life, ever.

I want to tell her that I’m calling an end to this pretence of a friendship because she’s not a friend at all and never has been, she’s a frenemy of the worst kind. And most of all…

Shit and double shit. Just as I’m mentally tearing strips off her, the answering machine in the hallway clicks in.

It’s Dan.

But even though I race to pick up the phone, I don’t get to the shagging thing in time, and his voice starts to reverberate around the massive stone hallway, echoing so loudly that Lisa hears him too, loud and clear.

‘Hi Annie? It’s me. Are you there? Look, I was on my way home when James rang to say that he’d had an emergency call-out to Paul Fogarty’s…he thinks one of his fillies is suffering from early parturition…’

My heart sinks. Even I know what that means. A miscarriage. Which means Dan could be out for hours more, at the very least.

‘…James can’t possibly handle this on his own, so it’s going to be a while longer before I get back…’

I manage to snatch the phone up before he says more and we talk a bit more privately. Well, as privately as I can
given that the Countess Dracula has now jubilantly let herself in, whammed the hall door shut behind her and is now standing right beside me, peeling off layers of jumpers and scarves.

‘I’m so sorry about this,’ Dan says to me, ‘I really wanted to be there for you tonight, you know that…’

‘I know that,’ I say, trying to mask my disappointment. ‘Don’t worry, it can’t be helped. I understand.’

‘It’s just that James is way too inexperienced to deal with this, and Paul is terrified he’ll end up losing the mare…’

‘It’s fine. Just do what you can and I’ll be here when you get home, OK?’

He’s driving as he’s talking and we lose the signal then. Just as I’m thinking, OK, for this last night, I’ll still be here when you get home, but…well…after tonight…then that’ll be all, folks, won’t it?

‘You see?’ says Lisa triumphantly. ‘He’s held up at work, so now aren’t you delighted that I stopped by? I couldn’t in all conscience let you spend your last evening sitting here all on your own, now could I?’

With that, she’s flung open the drawing room door, taking the whole room in at a glance.

‘Oh look! Lovely roaring fire and what’s this? A bottle of Chateau Margaux? Only my very favourite wine ever! How did you know? Run and get us two glasses, will you, Annie? My tongue’s hanging out for a glass of vino.’

Sure, Lisa, no problem, Lisa. Any other orders, Mussolini?

The shrillness of my mobile phone alarm wakes me up the next morning and I spring up, coming to with a heart-stopping jerk. Dan is beside me, completely out for the
count, sleeping in the shape of someone who’s been crucified. Swear to God, I was so wiped out going to bed that I never even heard him come in last night.

The Countess Dracula of course, stayed till well past midnight, ignoring my yawns, knocking back most of the fancy wine and bitching about everyone she’d ever met in her entire life ever. And after she’d finally gone, somehow I crawled to bed, feeling like I’d been run over by a steam-roller, drained and wrecked as I always am after prolonged exposure to her company.

No, not the final night I had planned at all. Half of me wonders if I should wake Dan up for a last final seduction scene, but given that he probably didn’t get home till all hours, it just seems like meanness of the highest order to even think about taking advantage of him so shamelessly. He’s hardly my sexual bon voyage card, now is he? Plus, he’s probably so wrecked, it would be a bit like doing it with a corpse.

So, shivering with cold and still wearing my un-ripped off sexy nightie, I head for the bathroom and hop into the shower. Anyway, by the time I’m scrubbed clean with my hair washed, he’s up and dressed, still in our room and looking at me with a funny combination of deep exhaustion and…something else. An expression I haven’t seen on his face in so long that I barely recognise it. Takes me a minute or two to cop onto what it is.

It’s guilt. Pure and simple.

‘Annie…I can’t apologise to you enough about last night,’ he says gently, moving towards me. ‘I know you had plans for us, but…you see, there’s just no way I could have left James to handle the filly on his own…’