Meet Me at the Lighthouse Page 15

  “What’s the business, Zaheer?” I asked.

  “Hussain Security,” he said. “Heard of it?”

  “No. What is it, bouncers?”

  He laughed. “Not that sort of security. I’ve offered to donate materials to protect your property from future break-ins. My men will be up later today to fit a steel multi-lock door and repair the broken windows, and I’ll arrange for an alarm to be put in as well. Anything for my favourite teacher.”

  “I said we’d include the firm’s logo on all the festival publicity in exchange,” Ross told me.

  “Wow.” I beamed at them both. “That’s… wow. Thanks, Zaheer.”

  “So do I get straight As from now on?” he said with a grin.

  I grinned back. “Don’t push it.”

  “Any idea who did it yet?” he asked Ross.

  “No, but I took photos of all the damage. They’re with the police now. Hopefully there’ll be a few clues in there.”

  “Hope they get them.” Zaheer shook his head. “Makes you sick, doesn’t it? I’ll never understand why some people want to spoil things for everyone.”

  “Yeah. Just to watch the world burn.” Ross turned to me. “Here, Bobbie, come inside. Someone else you need to talk to.”

  I followed him into the lighthouse, and blinked in surprise when I saw who was there.

  “Mum?”

  “Hi, love,” she said brightly. Her voice was muffled by the dust mask she was wearing as she supervised a group of youth club kids covering the walls in spray paint. “What do you think?”

  “If we can’t keep graffiti off the walls, better embrace it, right?” Ross said.

  All around the room, covering the ugly graffiti, the kids were creating a sort of mural. It showed the lighthouse at sunset as it must’ve been in its heyday, light bursting forth from the lantern room, a fleet of boats just like my model heading to shore. The words Project Phoenix were coming out of the lamp beam a bit like the Bat Signal. It reminded me of Ross’s song. A spire of hope against the setting sun…

  “It’s… incredible, Mum,” I murmured. “How’d you do it?”

  “Young Josh is our Banksy. Made his day when Ross told him he could have all this space to play with, he’s submitting this for his A-Level coursework.” Mum nodded towards a lad of about 16 detailing the lighthouse’s red and white twirls, frowning with concentration under his scruffy shoulder-length hair. “We can’t take credit for the name though, that was Ross’s. Now go on, get out, before the fumes knock you down.”

  “I can’t believe you organised all this,” I said to Ross when we were back in the fresh air.

  “Just asked myself what my lighthouse girl would do.” He threw an arm round me and gave my shoulders a squeeze.

  “What she did was freak out and hide in a bottle of wine. God, I should’ve been here.” I turned to face him. “Ross… kiss me.”

  “What?” He frowned. “But there’s people. Thought you wanted to keep it quiet till we were done?”

  “Don’t care any more. I want to kiss you and I want everyone to see.”

  “Bobbie, you sure that’s – mmm…” I stood on tiptoes to stop his mouth with mine and saw his eyes close as the kiss took him.

  “So? What’s everyone doing?” I whispered when we separated, still in the arms that had locked around me.

  “Ignoring us, mostly,” he whispered back. “Just got a thumbs-up off Mr Madison though.”

  “Heh. He’s changed since school.”

  He held me back to look into my face. “So how does it feel to be my official girlfriend, Miss Hannigan?”

  I sighed and nestled against him. “Never been happier.”

  Chapter 20

  I dragged myself away from some festival publicity I was working on one Saturday morning to answer the door, expecting to find Jess, who’d gone to work without her key again. But the silhouette behind the frosted glass wasn’t Mum or Jess or the postman. It was a stranger. I cursed the fact I was still in my dressing gown, flicking away a stray cornflake that had stuck to one lapel as I opened the door.

  “Hello,” a smooth feminine voice said. “Is this where the Hannigan twins live?”

  The woman fluttering her falsies on the doorstep was an attractive, top-heavy redhead of about my age, with manicured emerald nails and eyebrows tweezed to within an inch of their life. She didn’t look very Cragport, somehow.

  “Yes, which of us are you after? My sister’s not in, I’m afraid.”

  “Neither, I’m looking for Ross. His mum said I might find him here.”

  I felt my stomach jump suddenly. Redhead… could it be her, the woman from the cafe? The hair was shorter but the colour was spot on. I tried to sound nonchalant as I answered.

  “He’s just upstairs. Who can I say it is?”

  “Tell him it’s Claire.”

  So that was it. The missus was in town.

  ***

  I found Ross stark naked in bed, propped on one arm scribbling song lyrics into the notepad he always kept handy.

  “Morning, sexy,” he said when I’d plonked myself down, sitting up so he could give me a kiss. “Was hoping you’d come for a cuddle. Missed you when I woke up.”

  “Sorry, no time for cuddles now,” I said, returning the kiss. “Someone at the door.”

  “Thought I heard it. Is it your mum? Should probably get some pants on if it is.”

  “No, it’s for you. Claire.”

  I scanned Ross’s face for his reaction, but he just looked blank.

  “Oh. Right. What does she want?”

  “She didn’t say. Did she tell you she was coming?”

  “No. My mum might’ve invited her, they’re pretty close. Or it could be about the flat. We agreed to lower the asking price when she was in town a few months ago so maybe we’ve finally got a bite.”

  I felt a surge of relief to hear him refer to it so frankly. So it had been Claire, the woman in the caf; not a date at all. And he hadn’t lied to me, not on purpose. I should have known it was just my daft insecurities getting the better of me.

  But there was something else mixed in with the relief. Jealousy? Guilt? As happy as we’d been since we’d become a couple, as confident as Ross was that we weren’t doing anything wrong, a little nagging part of me still worried we should have waited for his divorce before getting involved.

  “Well, better go find out what she wants.” He threw off the duvet and started locating the clothes I’d ripped off him the night before.

  “Spose.”

  He turned to me, my tone alerting him to something not right.

  “You ok?”

  “Yeah… guess so.”

  He pulled on his boxers and came to sit next to me on the bed. “Sorry, Bobbie, that was thoughtless. This must be weird for you.”

  “It is a bit,” I admitted. “I mean, these last few weeks, with you…” I pinched my eyes closed a moment. “Sounds soppy, but I’ve never been so happy.”

  “Aww, love…” He reached out to embrace me but I pushed his hands away.

  “Let me finish, Ross. I want to get this out.”

  “Ok, go on.”

  “I’ve never had something like this before, even before it all went wrong with Alex. It’s a bit strange knowing you have – that you cared enough about somebody to want to spend your life with them. It was easy to put it out of my mind when it was just me and you, but now… now she’s here, and I have to face up to it.”

  He took my hand and pressed the backs of my fingers to his lips. “That’s the past. No need to be jealous.”

  “You loved her though.”

  “Of course, very much. But it wasn’t the same as it is with you. I don’t mean it was better or worse.” He brought his hand up to caress my face, fixing me with that keen expression he so often had when he looked at me. “I don’t know what I mean exactly, but I know you’re unique. When I’m with you, it’s not like being with anyone else.”

  I managed a weak smile. “Th
at’s how I feel.”

  He drew me into his arms. “I think me and Claire both realised it wasn’t going to work about a year before it actually ended, to be honest. But we’d invested so much by then, made that massive commitment to each other, we felt we should try and salvage it if we could.” He tipped my face up to leave a feather-soft kiss on my lips. “But I know it could work with you, Bobbie Hannigan from school.”

  “You’re sweet.” I lifted my hand to stroke his jawline. “Come on then. Let’s go deal with the ex, then maybe we can have that cuddle.”

  He nibbled my ear. “Normal cuddles or sexy cuddles?”

  I giggled. “We’ll see what comes up.”

  ***

  When Ross and I were dressed and we came hand in hand down the stairs, Claire was where I’d left her in the passage. I hung back to let them talk.

  “Er, hi,” Ross said, smiling shyly. “You look well.”

  “You too,” Claire said, looking just as bashful as him.

  “You changed your hair.”

  She reached up to pat the seemingly immovable bob. “Oh. Yes. Do you like it?”

  “Yeah, suits you.”

  “Yours is getting a bit long,” she said with a smile, reaching over to ruffle it. Running her expensive manicured fingers through it… the third finger sparkling through his hair, my boyfriend’s hair… Jesus, she was still wearing her wedding ring! After nearly two years separated. Ok, that was just plain weird.

  Ross looked blank while the fingers combed through his hair. Claire blushed and jerked her hand away, as if she’d just realised what she was doing.

  Suddenly, she started laughing. “Oh, this is daft,” she said, flinging her arms around him. “Missed you, sweety.”

  Ross stood motionless for a second, then he laughed too and wrapped her in his arms, lifting her off the ground as he hugged her.

  And all I could do was stand and watch. Because obviously I didn’t mind, I mean, who would? If attractive, sophisticated women wanted to crush their double Ds against my boyfriend’s chest while rubbing their fancy fingernails up and down my boyfriend’s back, why on earth should I have a problem with that? Because I was unique, right? Brilliant.

  “Oh,” Ross said, disentangling himself from the embrace and blushing as he turned to face me. “Claire, this is my girlfriend, Bobbie. Bobbie, this is my – er, this is Claire.”

  “Hi,” I said, doing my best to smile brightly while I shook her hand.

  “Hi. Nice to meet you.” I could see her doing the subtle eye-skimming thing down my body, curling her lip as she passed judgement on the faded jeans and t-shirt I’d hurriedly thrown on.

  “So, shall we go through to the living room?” Ross asked. “If that’s ok with you, Bobbie.”

  “Yeah. Great.” My teeth were getting dry from maintaining the rictus grin I’d screwed on.

  When Claire and I were seated, Ross went into the kitchen to make tea and I was left with the small talk baton.

  “So what is it you do?” I asked.

  “Graphic designer, same as Ross,” Claire said. “You?”

  “Teacher, adult education, when it isn’t the holidays. Well, full-time teacher, part-time lighthouse keeper.” I tried to summon a smile, but it seemed to come out one-sided, like a sneer.

  She frowned. “Sorry?”

  “Oh. Thought he would’ve told you.” I jerked my head to the kitchen door. “Me and Ross have got a lighthouse. We’re doing it up, sort of a project.”

  “Not Uncle Charlie’s lighthouse?”

  Seriously, she called his Uncle Charlie her Uncle Charlie? Oh, get me, I’m one of the family.

  “That’s right. Ross wants to turn it into a performance space for kids.”

  “Still on with that, is he?” she said with a dismissive laugh.

  I tried not to glare. “Yes. He’s very committed to it.”

  Luckily Ross came in before the icy tone-off could go to the next level. He handed out teas then looked from me to Claire, as if he couldn’t quite remember which one of us he was supposed to sit next to, before throwing himself down on my sofa and curling an arm around me.

  “So what’s up, love?” Ross asked Claire when the awkward dust had settled. “Didn’t expect you. Everything ok with the flat?”

  Ugh, love, he was calling her love. He called me love. I mean, ok, this was Yorkshire: everyone called everyone love. But there was something in the soft way he said it that’d always made me feel it was mine.

  “Sort of,” Claire said. “We’ve got a potential buyer.”

  “Bloody hell, really?” Ross sat up a little straighter. “God, I thought we’d never shift it. Who?”

  “Sweet young couple, just married,” Claire said. “One viewing and they fell in love with the place. Bit of a problem though, they’re stuck in a chain. It could still be a while before we see the back of it.”

  “Oh well, at least the wheels are turning. Sure I can leave it in your capable hands.”

  “Always, sweety,” she said with a grin, fluttering her spider-leg false eyelashes at him.

  Hang on. Was that flirting? Was she flirting over that capable hands line?

  I could feel Ross’s fingertips brushing my shoulder. At least that was reassuring.

  “Oh. Brought this thing,” Claire said as if she’d suddenly remembered. She reached into her handbag – designer, of course – and pulled out a little pearl-pink guitar pick. “Found it when I was clearing out the flat. I remember you used to say it was your lucky one.”

  He took it from her, their fingers brushing ever so lightly, not that I noticed. “Thanks, love. Good of you to remember.”

  He looked at her, and his face was different somehow. Frowning, but not angry. More like concentrating. Intense.

  “Um, Ross,” I said quietly. “The two of you have got things to discuss. Maybe I’d better leave you to it.”

  “No.” He shook his head, as if to free himself of something. “No, Bobbie, there’s nothing I don’t want you here for. Don’t go, sweetheart.”

  Claire looked at me with barely concealed dislike when she heard him use the endearment. “Yeah, stay if you want, it’s nothing secret. I just wanted to drop these off.”

  She yanked a stack of paperwork out of her bag and dumped it on the table.

  “Flat stuff,” she said. “Needs signing.”

  “Oh. Right.” Ross looked down at the pile of A4. “What, now?”

  Claire shrugged. “No rush. I’ve booked a room at the Royal for three weeks, just drop it off before then.”

  “Bloody hell, three weeks! That’s as much Cragport as most people can stomach in a lifetime. What for?”

  “Just fancied a holiday. I thought it’d be nice to come and see the family.”

  The family, right. Ross’s family. God, you’d think they were the sodding mafia the way she was going on.

  “Anyway, you’ve got my number,” Claire said, finishing the last of her tea and standing up. “Let me know if you’re free for a drink while I’m in town – er, both of you, of course. See you, sweety.” She nodded curtly at me. “Bonnie.”

  I knew it, I knew she’d do the fake name-forget! Classic. That must be page one, paragraph one of How to be a Megabitch.

  It was weird. From the beginning, with Ross, it felt like there’d been a connection. Perhaps it had been a bit arrogant to think that was exclusively for me and him. But… I had, all the same. And now, seeing him with Claire, it was like a carving knife to the ribs. Like he wasn’t just mine any more.

  Ridiculous. I knew he’d been married. That meant promising to spend his life with someone, and he wasn’t the sort of man to take that on lightly. And yet to me he’d always just felt like Ross Mason, my boy from school. Suddenly he was someone else. Claire’s Ross. Grown-up, married, 28-year-old Ross, with ten years of life under his belt I knew almost nothing about.

  And it hurt. Irrational as I knew it was, it hurt like hell.

  “So, what do you think?” Ross a
sked once Claire had wiggled her tiny Versace-upholstered arse out the door.

  “Nice rack on her. Shame she hates me.”

  “She doesn’t hate you.”

  “Yes she bloody does. Most awkward cuppa I’ve ever had.” I sighed. “Ross, are you sure this is all ok? I know it’s a long time since you two were a couple, but… well, she’s still your wife.”

  I badly needed him to reassure me. Guilt and jealousy were currently fighting each other for chunks of my insides.

  “I keep telling you. She’s my wife on paper, that’s all.” He pulled me closer to him. “I’m with you now, Bobbie. And there’s nothing at all wrong with that.”

  “So is she seeing anyone new?”

  “Not at the moment. She goes on dates though.”

  “What, she told you that?”

  “Well, not in so many words,” he admitted. “Not really something you talk about with your ex, is it? I’m assuming she does, she’s got a pretty active social life.”

  “Hmm. So what was with the bitch queen from hell act then? She didn’t seem particularly chuffed to find you’d moved on.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that, she doesn’t mean it,” he said. “It’s always weird seeing your ex with someone new, isn’t it? No matter how much you both know it’s over. I bet you’d be just the same if Alex found someone else.”

  Someone else… I shuddered, remembering that whole horrible period of my life when I’d found out Alex had cheated on me and the painful break-up that followed. That awful feeling, knowing the person you loved had been touching someone else, betraying your trust in the most intimate way possible. It made me feel nauseous just thinking about it.

  Ross looked at me with concern when he felt me shiver. “Sorry,” he said softly. “I shouldn’t have said that. Wasn’t thinking.”

  “It’s ok.” I summoned a smile. “You’re right, it would feel strange. I don’t think I’d quite manage the full Joan Collins though. Claire seems to have a real knack for it.”

  “She’ll come round. Honestly, you’ll like her when you get to know her. She’s a lovely girl.”

  “Maybe,” I said, more to make him happy than anything. I was far from convinced the girlfriend and the wife were going to be braiding each other’s hair and swapping friendship bracelets any time soon. “So come on, tell me the story. How did it end between you two?”