To the Moon and Back

Chapter 26




Tony slowly massaged his aching temples; this was definitely a side effect of growing older he could do without. Back in the day, half a dozen large Scotches would barely have affected him. They definitely wouldn’t have given him a hangover of this magnitude.

But his headache was the least of his worries this morning.

What was that invention thingy he’d heard about? Some kind of dexterity test connected to your computer that you had to pass before it would allow you to access the Internet. So that if you just happened to down, say, half a dozen large Scotches during the course of the evening then be seized by a burning compulsion to send the kind of email you wouldn’t dream of sending if you were sober, you wouldn’t be able to send it.

Except you always could, of course, because this was Beverly Hills. You’d just call someone up, a member of staff or some employee from Geek Squad and arrange for them to come over to the house and for a small fee perform the necessary dexterous task in order to allow you onto your email account.

But since he hadn’t had that particular invention thingy installed, he hadn’t even needed to do that. Instead he’d opened his laptop, entered Martha’s email address, typed out his message, and pressed Send.

There, done. As easy as that.

Stupidly easy.

And he hadn’t been so trolleyed that he couldn’t remember what he’d written, either. Lacking in literary excellence his words may have been, but they’d come straight from the heart. His wounded, lonely, desperate, and inebriated heart.

Oh Martha,





I know I shouldn’t be doing this but I just have to. I miss you. I miss you so much, Martha, all the time. I know I shouldn’t, but that only makes it worse. I’m doing my best to get over you. Guess what? It’s not going so well.





I hope all is well with you. Have you sold lots of paintings? Not given any more away, I hope. And how is Henry? And are you doing OK? I won’t ask if you miss me too.





Right, I’m off to bed now. Will you even read this? Maybe you just delete my mails without looking at them. But don’t worry, either way I won’t expect a reply.





Sorry. Just needed to say it.





I love and miss you, beautiful Martha, more than you’ll ever know. But I do understand.





Be happy.





All love,





T x





Tony watched the computer screen shimmer into life. Had he gone over the top this time? Might there be a letter waiting in his inbox from Martha’s solicitors, warning him that his messages constituted harassment and any more would result in his immediate arrest?

Then his heart did a flip, because there among the list of emails that had come in overnight was one from Martha. For the first time in weeks, she’d sent a reply. Tony concentrated on keeping his breathing under control. For several seconds he couldn’t bring himself to open it, in case her reaction was too cruel to bear. If she announced that she was blocking his address he would have to accept that he must never attempt to contact her again.

How could he bear that?

His hand shook as he moved the mouse.

Click.

And there was Martha’s email up on the screen.

Very short and to the point, she’d written:

I miss you too.





***

‘Ooh, I’ve missed you so much!’

‘I can’t breathe.’ Niall was grinning at her, his hair slick with rain. ‘You’re choking me.’

Roo loosened her grip on him; when he’d come through the front door she’d launched herself at him like a monkey. ‘I can’t help it. I’m excited. Did you have a miserable weekend too?’

‘What do you think?’ He’d been forced to spend it at a business conference in Southampton. ‘I’ve had sales targets and expansion strategies up to here. God, let’s not talk about it now. You’—his fingers deftly unfastened her navy satin bra—‘are looking spectacular.’

‘Not so bad yourself.’ Roo retaliated by sliding off his suit jacket and removing his tie. She wasn’t going to ask him how Yasmin and Ben were. She wouldn’t even think about them. It was Monday lunchtime, Niall had rushed over from work, and they only had forty minutes before he had to race back. They had no time to waste. Hence the fact that she was wearing scarcely any clothes in preparation…

Thirty minutes had passed in the most glorious way imaginable. Her skin sheeny with perspiration, Roo lay on her back in the bed and stretched pleasurably, like a cat. In the bathroom across the landing, Niall had already jumped into the shower. In ten minutes he would be on his way back to work but she wasn’t going to whine about it. He’d be over again tomorrow evening. She would be cheerful and understanding, the kind of reaction that would make him want to see her again, then maybe in a few months when—

De-dee-doo-ding.

Roo stopped breathing and turned her head. It was a muffled sound, quiet but instantly recognizable, signaling that Niall’s mobile had received a text.

Which wasn’t unusual in itself. But in all the months she’d known him, it was the first time Niall had left his phone unattended. Normally it went everywhere with him, even into the bathroom. The two of them were never parted. Now, like a child glimpsing Father Christmas and finding herself unable to resist investigating further, Roo slithered out of bed and followed the direction the noise had come from.

And there it was, in the pocket of the trousers he’d so hastily discarded earlier. She held the phone in her hand and saw that the text had come from a contact listed only as V.

V… V… Offhand, all she could think of was Vivica, one of his former co-workers. She had left the company a couple of months back; Niall had gone along to her leaving party. He’d also mentioned in passing that she was a bloody good saleswoman, single, and hardworking.

Roo stood there, naked and clutching his mobile, her mind in a tizz. Partly because it was the first time she’d been able to clutch his mobile. But also partly because some sixth sense was telling her she really should be opening this text.

Her thumb hovered over the button. If she pressed it, the message would appear.

If she pressed it, Niall would know she’d pressed it.

The next moment, in the bathroom, the shower was turned off. A jolt of adrenaline coursed through her, because now she had less than a minute left. If she was going to press the button, she had to press it now.

On the one hand, Niall might hate her for spying on him. He might be furious.

On the other hand, she had to know what the message said.

Had to.

Oh please don’t let it be bad…

She pressed it.

OMG, best weekend ever!!! When can we do it again? (And again and again!!!!!) Call me asap.





Lots of love, V xxxxx





No, please no. Roo whimpered with fear, her brain struggling to take in the significance of the words. She felt sick… as if she might actually be sick. Across the landing she could hear Niall opening the shower door, stepping out onto the tiled floor. She couldn’t confront him; her head wasn’t ready yet. There was a loud buzzing in her ears, he’d be out of the bathroom in less than forty seconds, there wasn’t time for anything now, he had to be back at work…

OK, get rid of the message. Breathless and fumbling, her fingers suddenly as huge as sausages, Roo pressed and pressed the necessary buttons. She clutched the phone to her chest to mute the tinkly notes it emitted with each new action. Finally the message was deleted, vanished, gone forever. Almost as if she’d imagined it, except she knew she hadn’t. Clumsily and in the nick of time she slipped the phone back into Niall’s trouser pocket. Then the bathroom door opened and he reappeared, vigorously toweling himself dry with her favorite lilac towel.

Roo blurted out, ‘I need the loo,’ and hurried past him.

By the time she re-emerged, he was fully dressed and ready to rush off.

‘I don’t want to go.’ He planted a perfunctory kiss on her mouth, at the same time patting his jacket pockets. ‘But I have to. Shit, where’s my phone?’

She stood there and let him find it, saw the momentary look of anxiety change to one of relief as he pulled the mobile out of his trouser pocket and instinctively checked the screen. No new messages. Cool. He shot her a confident smile and said, ‘Right, I’m off. I’ll see you tomorrow, OK?’

‘Yes.’ Her voice sounded high and strange, but Niall didn’t notice. He ruffled her hair then raced downstairs, let himself out of the house, and—woop, click, clunk—jumped into his car.

Frozen to the spot, Roo listened to the sound of it disappearing off up the road. Her brain was still fizzing over, making rational thought impossible. Less than ten minutes ago, she’d had a boyfriend that she adored. OK, so he had a wife and baby, but other than that he’d been close to perfect.

And now, thanks to one little text, her whole world had been turned upside down. Because try as she might, she was having trouble coming up with a convincing explanation as to how it might not mean what it appeared to mean.

Five minutes later, still perspiring but no longer in a good way, she’d managed to track down Vivica on Google. Yet another example of the miracle of technology doing something incredibly clever, yet you couldn’t help wishing sometimes that it wouldn’t. Life had surely been simpler, easier, and less wracked with pain before the advent of the Internet.

Vivica + ‘Broughton and Wingfield Associates’ on Google Images had brought up three photos of Vivica Mellon being presented with a trophy for achieving outstanding sales figures last year. She looked like a saleswoman too. Her shiny dark hair was cut in an efficient bob, she used red lipstick and lipliner, and she was wearing a navy crimplene trouser suit.

OK, the crimplene bit probably wasn’t true but it made Roo feel better to think it. The look of stop-at-nothing triumph on Vivica’s heart-shaped face told her all she needed to know about her character. If she worked in a shop and you wanted a pint of milk, she wouldn’t let you out again until you’d bought the fridge.

Was it her?

Was she sleeping with Niall?

Was it all happening again?

Shaking, Roo switched off the laptop. She couldn’t bear it. All her life she’d fallen for men who started off perfect and morphed into bastards. Time after time, one way or another, they’d let her down and broken her heart. Trampled on it.

Meeting Niall, she’d really thought she’d hit the jackpot. This time, at last, it would be different.

Then, once he’d captured her, he’d told her he was married.

Which wasn’t great, admittedly, but there were excellent reasons why he was being unfaithful to his wife.

Or were there?

And now this.

She didn’t know it for sure, but it was looking as if Yasmin wasn’t the only one Niall was cheating on.

Roo felt panicky and nauseous and horribly alone. One way or another, she was going to have to find out.