This Man (This Man 1)

I sigh. ‘I’m sure you’ll be fine. ’ I assure him in my best calming tone. ‘You’re good at your job. ’ He really is. He has the confident – a bit too confident – attitude required of a sales person.

‘Yeah, I just wanted to make amends with you, though. ’

That’s okay with me, as long as he doesn’t hit me with another “I want you back” speech. What was he thinking? ‘It’s fine, don’t worry. I’ll see you about, okay?’

‘Yeah, we could do lunch again,’ he adds quickly. ‘As friends…of course, I still have these boxes with the last of your stuff. ’

‘I’ll pick them up next week. Take care, Matt. ’ I ignore his lunch suggestion.

‘You too,’

I hang up, tossing my phone onto my desk. As much as he’s a twat, I don’t wish unemployment on him. He’ll be fine. I put Matt out of my head and concentrate on getting some work done. I pretend not to check my phone every ten minutes to make sure it’s on and the volume is up. Why hasn’t he called?

I walk down our street after picking up a bottle of wine and see Kate in the distance, jumping around in the middle of the road like the red headed nutter that she is. As I near, I do a double take. Parked up next to Margo is another bright pink van, but this one’s brand spanking new. So, Kate’s finally invested in some new wheels. It’s about time.

‘Nice wheels. ’ I say as I approach.

She spins around, her blue eyes dancing, her pale cheeks flushed. ‘Do you know anything about this?’

Me? ‘Why would I?’

‘I just got home and it was parked here. I admired it for a bit, walked through the front door and trod on the keys. Look. ’ She thrusts the keys under my nose, prompting me to look at the note attached to a piece of string on the key ring.

‘No more bruised butts, please. ’

No! He wouldn’t have, surely? I think back to his fierce reaction to my battered bottom.

‘Have you spoken to Sam?’ I ask.

‘Yep, he said I should speak to Jesse. ’

‘Why would he say that?’ I ask shortly.

‘Well, obviously, because he thinks Jesse is the mystery van buyer. ’ She rolls her eyes. ‘If the Lord has brought me a van so you don’t bruise your arse again, then I’ll…well, I’ll love the fact that you bruise like a peach!’

This can’t be right. ‘Kate, you can’t accept it. ’

She looks at me in disgust, and I know that there’s not a hope in Hell of her returning the van. I can see it in her delighted eyes.

‘No fucking way! Don’t you dare make me give it back, I’ve already christened her. ’

‘What?’ My tone is seriously lacking patience.

She spreads her long, pale fingers over the bonnet. ‘Meet, Margo Junior. ’ She lays her torso down on the bonnet of Margo Junior, caressing the pink metal.

I shake my head in exasperation, stomping up the path to the house. No doubt she loves the impossible prat even more now. What’s his game, with flowers for Sally and a van for Kate? Oh, and tossing the Queen’s currency on the kitchen table like it’s a tea towel?

‘I’m taking her for a spin!’ Kate yells up the path to me.

I don’t reply. Instead, I take myself up the stairs and straight into the kitchen to put my flowers in a vase and crack open my bottle of wine. I finish my first glass and go for a shower. He brought Kate a van?

I take my time washing the day away and leaving my conditioner in for five minutes while I shave. As I turn the water off, I hear the Stone Roses track I’ve been desperate to hear all day and nearly break my neck scrambling out of the shower to sprint across the landing. The phone rings off, the screen clearing to reveal eight missed calls.

Oh, no. He’ll be ripping his hair out again. I dial him as I walk across the landing and into the lounge, looking out of the window to see if Kate’s back.

She’s not, but Jesse is pacing up and down the garden path, looking his usual Godly self, in jeans and a thin knitted, navy jumper. I smile, tingling from top to toe at the sight of him. He’s frantically punching buttons on his phone and, just like I knew it would, my mobile lights up in my hand.

Ah! ‘Hello?’ I say, all cool and casual.