Fiona Harper - Don't Go Breaking My Heart - Break Up to Make Up / Always the Best Man

She made her way upstairs and absent-mindedly turned on the bath taps.

Who the hell was Craig, anyway?

She got undressed and left her clothes in an uncharacteristic heap on the floor and tried to let the hot water wash away her disappointment. It was the coward’s way out—leaving a note like that. She should know.

She leaned forward and twisted the hot tap until the water splashing into the bath was just short of scalding.

At least she’d had a proper reason for not being able to face Nick last May. Leaving a note might have been gutless, but it had been all she could manage at the time.

Why was he so surprised at her request for a divorce? They hadn’t been living together—hadn’t even spoken—for months. What did he think was going to happen?

Since the bath was threatening to overflow, she reached forward and turned off the taps. Then she sank back into the blissfully hot water and tried to loosen her shoulder muscles.

She scrubbed her face and tried not to notice the way every sound echoed round the bathroom. Echoed round the house, even. It had taken her months to get used to living alone.

She’d only ever envisaged their Victorian terraced house as a nest for her and Nick, somewhere they could be impossibly happy and gradually fill with children. When he’d disappeared, taking the possibility of all that with him, she hadn’t been able to stand being there any more. Too many daydreams burst like balloons.

All she’d wanted was a home that seemed warm and inviting, a place you could walk into and feel the love. She and Nick had spent a couple of years doing it up, but now it didn’t seem to matter if they’d got just the right door knobs for the kitchen cabinets. A home was more than furniture and fixtures. Of all people, she should know that.

Her own family home had been a suburban palace, fitting for the business king who owned it. Pity it hadn’t been designed with children in mind. ‘Don’t touch’ and ‘Look what you’ve done!’ had seemed to echo round the high-ceilinged rooms. Her mother had been forty-one when she’d had her—a complete shock by all accounts. Adele suspected her mother had never quite got over it.

She’d certainly never let the existence of a daughter slow her down. She’d hired a nanny and continued to travel the world with her husband. To Adele she’d always seemed a little far-off and glamorous—a bit like the queen.

Adele rested her head on the bath and stared at the ceiling.

She’d had such great plans for this house—for her life—and, in one swift move, Nick had turned everything upside down.

When he’d left she’d tried to give it a new identity. A few new prints on the walls, different pot plants in the living room.

Of course, she’d cleared up all his things and stuck them in a box in the wardrobe almost immediately she’d returned from her stay at Mona’s, but the lingering stamp of Nick on the house had been harder to erase.

Eventually she’d managed to stop expecting to find his jacket slung over the back of the sofa, or to have to close the back door he’d left open after racing down to his workshop to try out his latest brainwave.

He’d only been back a couple of days and now she had to start all over again. And it wasn’t as if his stuff was scattered round the house this time. No, this time it was all in her head, and she wasn’t sure she had the energy to spring clean it right at the moment, not when she had to spend the weekend with him. Better save it for Monday.

She wouldn’t tell Mona, though. Mona would get the wrong idea and think she didn’t mean what she said about the divorce.

Nick stayed true to his word—he didn’t phone for a few days. That didn’t stop Adele jumping out of her skin every time she heard it ring. In the end, she decided to let the answer-phone save her from any more breathless hellos. It was getting embarrassing.

Then, on Wednesday night, at eight forty-three, she heard his voice on the speaker and froze.

‘Adele? It’s me. I…um…we need to decide what time we want to leave on Friday morning.’ There was a long pause. ‘I’ll call again later and see if I can catch you in.’ Five seconds passed—Adele knew because she counted them in elephants—and then he hung up.

She carefully slid her laptop off her thighs and onto the sofa and walked over to the phone. The caller ID revealed a number she didn’t recognise. The accommodating Craig’s, she guessed.

She pressed the dial button and waited while it rang.

‘Hello?’

The voice was young, blonde and was still halfway through a giggle. Adele stiffened.

‘Could I speak with Nick, please?’

‘Sure. He’s just in the other room.’ There were muffled noises as the girl covered the mouthpiece with her hand. She didn’t do a very good job of it, because Adele still heard everything she said.

‘Nicky?’ she yelled. ‘It’s for you…I think it’s your mum.’

Nicky? Adele shuddered. And she wasn’t even going to think about the other comment.

She could hear him laughing as he made his way to the phone and held her breath as he picked it up.

‘I’m wearing my clean underwear just in case I get run over by a bus, Mum, I promise.’

‘Bully for you.’

‘Adele!’

‘Craig sounds a lot blonder and squeakier than I thought he would.’

‘Huh? Oh, no. That’s Kai. She’s his girlfriend—this week. How did you know she was blonde?’

Adele rolled her eyes. ‘Lucky guess.’

‘I take it you heard my message.’

‘Yes.’

‘So, are we going up Friday or Saturday?’

She bit her lip. An extra day with Nick was going to be difficult, but it might be the last time she got to see her in-laws. A family dinner sounded wonderful.

‘I can do Friday.’

She heard him exhale. ‘That’s great. We’re going to have to leave early, though.’

‘How early?’

‘Dunno. Haven’t settled on a time yet.’

Typical. He hadn’t thought about this at all.

‘Well, what time is the dinner?’

‘Hang on a second—Mum rang me with all the details. I just need to find them.’

The phone at his end clattered onto a hard surface and she heard a rustling noise. It must have driven Maggie mad not to send him a little card with all the details in it, just in case he forgot. Honestly, she’d put little notes in his packed-lunch box if she could.

‘OK,’ he said, sounding slightly breathless. ‘It starts at eight.’

‘Let’s aim to get there for six at the latest. It should give us a bit of time to stretch our legs and freshen up. How long will it take us?’

‘Debbie says it takes her nine hours, but she’s about an hour closer, so I’d suggest we leave at eight.’

‘Let’s make it seven. We’ve got the M25 to deal with.’

Nick groaned.

‘What time are you picking me up, then?’ Adele asked.

Silence for a few seconds.

‘You’ve got the car, Adele. I didn’t sneak one back into the country in my hand luggage, you know.’

Adele closed her eyes and dropped onto the sofa. ‘So, not only am I going to be stuck in a car with you for eleven hours, I’m going to have to do the driving as well?’

‘We can share. I’ll let you do the first leg.’

‘Gee, thanks.’ She opened her eyes and gave the ceiling a long, hard look. ‘You’d better tell me Craig’s address. I want you standing on the doorstep at seven o’clock sharp or I’m driving away without you.’

Now who was sounding like his mother?

‘Whatever you say.’

Adele just knew he was doing a little cocky smirk at the phone. Her lips curled into a smile anyway.

Impossible. The man was impossible.

If it weren’t the crack of dawn, Adele would’ve been leaning on the horn with all her weight. It was bad enough she’d ended up as chauffeur, without being made to wait around in her car in sub-zero temperatures. The heater was a bit dodgy and would only produce something approaching warmth once her foot was near the floor.