Just for you, p.1
Just For You, page 1
JUST FOR YOU
Laura Lockington
© Laura Lockington 2014.
Laura Lockington has asserted her rights under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 2001, to be identified as the author of this work.
First published in 2014 by Endeavour Press Ltd.
This edition published in 2018 by Lume Books.
Table of Contents
NINA
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
POPPY
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
HANNAH
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
NINA
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
POPPY
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
HANNAH
Chapter Fifteen
NINA
Chapter Sixteen
POPPY
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
NINA
Chapter One
Fitzherbert Villas is a wide, tree-lined street that runs downhill from the main shopping road towards the pebble beach in Brighton. It has elegant creamy-coloured, bow-fronted houses that are mostly flats, and a few small modern blocks of apartments that had passed planning permission in the greedy ‘80’s before there was time for any angry regency campaigners to protest against them. There is a small hotel that catered for conference delegates and the occasional dirty weekender right on the corner where the busy seafront road glows with traffic lights. It has its fair share of urban foxes, stray cats, barking dogs and bikes chained to the black arrow-pointed railings of houses, despite the ‘thank you for not leaving your bike here’ notices. Dark green wheelie bins of rubbish are dutifully filled by the (mostly) law-abiding residents, and the recycling boxes overflow with empty glass bottles of Sauvignon Blanc and Shiraz every Monday morning.
Nina Towers was just dragging the rubbish bag of empties out of her ground floor flat, wincing at the hideous clanking sound of glass being jostled against glass when her next door neighbour, Hannah, who was returning from her early morning run along the seafront judging by her red face and sweaty neon pink lycra top, waved at her.
Nina half-heartedly waved back, hoping against hope that it was half-hearted enough not to encourage Hannah to come over and talk. Nina bent down, decanting the bottles from the bag into the rigid black boxes that held all the recycled rubbish. Why, she thought crossly, not for the first time, why do I bother when I’m sure it all goes straight to the same place anyway? A trickle of stale red wine ran down her arm as the last of the bottles clattered into the box and she wiped it on her jeans. Straightening up she saw that Hannah was stretching her legs on the black and white chess-patterned tiled path that ran from the pavement to the front door of number 26, where Hannah lived. Damn.
“Lovely morning!” Hannah said, beaming at her.
Nina looked around. A pearly grey sky pressed down on the sea and a brisk wind was whipping up stray bits of rubbish on the street. Even the seagulls were hunched up on the roofs, looking a bit chilly.
“Umm...yes, I suppose...” She smiled vaguely at Hannah, hoping to get away and edged towards her own front door at number 24.
“I saw the fishing boats arrive at Jacks, down on the beach, so you’d better get there quick if you want some squid,” Hannah piped, lunging from side to side in her tight black lycra shorts. Her voice was a curious mixture of high-pitched school prefect crossed with chalet girl. Her yellow hair was stuck to the side of her red shiny face. To be fair, she was a good looking woman, but the running did her no favours, and it certainly hadn’t decreased the size of her considerable bottom, Nina was pleased to see. She aggravated Nina in a way that was difficult to describe. Sure, she was a bit too peppy, and the voice grated, but she was a kind soul really and Nina felt bad that she just couldn’t warm to her. She decided to make a bit of an effort.
“So, um, how far did you run today then Hannah?” Nina said brightly, pulling her cotton cardigan more tightly around her. It may well be late April, and the buds on the forsythia were turning yellow, but it was a nasty shivery sort of day and not ‘lovely’ at all as far as Nina was concerned.
Nina half listened to Hannah who was extolling the beauties of the Marina in the early morning and, yet again, the benefits of running. With some relief, Nina saw the front door open of number 22, and her good friend Poppy Harvey came charging out of it. Her long curly chestnut hair was wet, and she was clutching an oversized leather bag that was bulging with paperwork.
“Hi Nina! Hiya Hannah... Lovely drinks on Saturday, thanks... must come to ours soon, Tom says he’ll cook a curry... maybe next weekend?” Poppy ran down the path, heading for Western Road. “I’m late, of course! See you both soon...” She ran up the road, her scarlet coat flapping in the breeze.
Nina smiled. Tom’s curries were legendary. He once spent three days perfecting a whole leg of lamb slow cooked in about a hundred spices that he’d bought from the spice shop, Taj, in Western Road. It had been heaven. Nina stared after Poppy, wishing that she was standing on the doorstep having a natter with her instead of Hannah, who was still banging on about running.
“...and yes, it was pretty much my fastest time, there’s a great app on your iPhone that works out all the timing for you, so it’s really easy. I know I’ve said it before, but honestly Nina, if you fancy it, I’d come with you to start with, you know, show you the ropes and –”
“No, no, it’s really kind of you, but it’s just not my sort of thing,” Nina replied firmly, moving away from her, clutching the empty wine-smelling rubbish bag and edging towards her own front door.
“Oh. OK... but thank you so much for inviting me to the drinks party on Saturday, it was great fun!”
It hadn’t been a drinks party; Nina thought crossly, it was a few friends over for wine and some nibbles. Then she chided herself for yet again allowing Hannah to annoy her. At least Hannah had kept Chris amused, and for that she had to be grateful. Chris in a bad mood could sour the most friendly of gatherings. His bad moods (and drinking) had seemed, to her immense relief, to have got a bit better recently.
Nina had a flashback to Saturday night when Hannah had been giggling loudly in the corner at something that Chris had said, twirling a bit of yellow hair in her fingers and staring at him with a Princess Di downward look from her rather large, slightly bulging, blue eyes. She had looked a knockout in her tight red dress (though it clashed rather with her red cheeks and yellow hair) and Nina had been relieved that Chris had been in a good mood and laughing. It had been a fun evening, with lots of laughter and the minimum of hangovers on Sunday. Chris had got up early and popped out for the papers, and had even made coffee and brought it to her in bed.
A tootle on a car horn made both Hannah and Nina look up, and they saw everyone’s favourite delivery man, Troy, draw up in the Ocado van. Troy was a gorgeous looking coffee-coloured man with long dreadlocks, held back in a ponytail. He swung out of the van and started to unload from the back some bags from the interior.
“Morning, ladies... hey, Nina, how did the Malbec go down on Saturday?” Troy grinned at her, whilst Nina acknowledged the tiny butterfly of excitement that she always felt when Troy was around. “Told you it was a good red, didn’t I? And at that price... hey, you can’t go wrong, know what I mean?” He gave them a wink, and effortlessly heaved a heavy box out of the van onto the pavement.
Hannah giggled at him, and smoothed her hair down, making Nina frown. Then she realised with a start that she was doing the exact same thing. Oh really, for goodness sakes! She could hardly get annoyed with Hannah, when she, Nina Towers happily living with the lovely Chris Guest, was reacting in the same way. There was just something about Troy that made all of them a bit fluttery. Even Poppy, who would never in a million years look at another man, confessed to having a bit of a thing about Troy. He was just so, well, sexy really. And nice. And always in good mood which was more than could be said for Chris. Nina had wanted to invite him for a drink on Saturday, but somehow it didn’t feel quite right. Nothing to do with him being a delivery man, much more to do with Chris being so unpredictable and quite prone to jealously. Not that there was anything to be jealous about, Nina reminded herself firmly.
Hannah and Nina watched him walk up the pathway of number 22.
“Oh, Troy, you’ve missed her, Poppy I mean, she’s out, and I’m sure Tom left hours ago... I’ll take it in,” Nina pushed open the front door and waved goodbye to Hannah with some relief. Troy obligingly followed her inside with Poppy and Tom’s shopping. He made his way with familiarity to Nina’s kitchen and dropped all the bags on the counter. Nina was glad that she’d washed up and put away all the debris from the weekend and that there were flowers on the table, even if they were a one pound bunch of daffodils plonked into a blue and white ceramic jug.
“There’s a few frozen things in here,” Troy said, rummaging in the bags, “have you got room for them?”
Nina pulled out some bags of frozen summer fruits, oven chips, peas and a tub of chocolate phish food ice cream and obligingly shoved things aside in her freezer for them.
“Better make a note about it, or they’ll stay in there for ages!” Troy laughed, shoving a pen towards her. Nina laughed too, remembering that she’d done this before for Poppy last summer and the mystery joint of meat that she knew she hadn t bought kept surfacing in the frost filled freezer with monotonous regularity till she’d taken it round to Poppy and Tom with an apologetic face.
Nina flicked the kettle on. “Time for a coffee Troy?” she asked, fiddling with the tiny glass buttons on her green cardigan, pleased with herself that she actually looked quite presentable for an early Monday morning. Instead of a dressing gown, or some slovenly mixture of trakkie bottoms and a jumper, she was in jeans that flattered her, and a new cardigan that matched her eyes. Chris, in the early days of their romance, had described her eyes as being the colour of the Adriatic on a summer morning.
“Not really... but go on, always time for a quickie!” Troy laughed, running his eyes up and down her body in a highly appreciative way.
Nina tried not to blush as she pulled down a couple of mugs from the dresser, and wondered what it was exactly about Troy that meant he could get away with those remarks, which, if they came from someone else, she’d not only be irritated by, but also repulsed, as well. But somehow... somehow he made everything sound intimate and funny, as well as sexy.
As if Troy knew what she was thinking he smiled at her. A big slow, face splitting smile that showed a gleaming gold tooth on the right hand side of his top teeth.
“Hey, you lookin’ good girl! Must have been a great weekend. Only one thing makes a woman look that good,” Troy said, smiling at her.
“Yeah,” said Nina challengingly, “What’s that then?”
Troy laughed softly, “You know what I’m talkin’ about... come out with me one night and we’ll paint the town.”
“Ha, you say that to all of us,” Nina grumbled, pushing his mug of coffee towards him.
They both laughed, knowing that this was a ritualistic exchange and a bit of harmless flirting, but all the same, Nina was glad that Chris wasn’t in the flat to overhear it.
Chapter Two
Nina reluctantly turned her computer on, and sat down at her desk. The home office, which had started life so well organised and neat had slowly but inexorably descended into chaos. Not all her fault, Nina thought indignantly. That was the trouble when you lived in a small flat that was perfect for one, but didn’t happily house two. Chris’s collection of vinyl, a games kit, boxes of antlers and taxidermy that he loved but gave Nina the creeps, framed photographs of weird looking sculptures that Nina refused to put on her walls, a tennis racquet and bags of assorted ‘stuff’ had all found their way onto what was obviously their permanent resting place. His work stuff was all in the studio that he rented up the hill along with several other artists and sculptors, thank god, or it would be even more crowded.
The trouble with Chris, Nina thought critically, was that he seemed to model himself on the artist who was allowed to be a bit of a hell raiser. It might have seemed attractive once, but it did seem a bit passé now. The long boozy lunches when he was wooing her, the late night drinking sessions that she’d tried her best to keep up with, the monumental hangovers, the trips to obscure galleries in the East End of London to view kinetic sculptures followed by a curry in Brick Lane had seemed very glamorous and bohemian at the time. And, to be fair, they’d had a wonderful whirlwind romance. Chris was wildly generous when he had funds, being an inspired present buyer and she often found notes or poems attached to a flower that he’d leave in unexpected places for her to find.
He’d even once written ‘I love you’ on a plaster that she’d been using to ease a blister that her new shoes had caused on her heels. Nina smiled at the remembrance of it, and at the lobster that she’d found in the fridge adorned with a sparkly necklace that she’d described having seen in Jeremy Hoye’s fabulous jewellery shop in the Lanes. It had been as if she was discovering lost treasure of the deep in the cool recess of her own fridge, and she had marvelled and gasped with pleasure at the wonderful surprise. There had been a bit more gasping later on when they’d made very passionate love on the kitchen floor as Chris declared that he couldn’t wait one moment more for her and he needed her right there and then.
They were the good days. The bad days were when he was not in funds and continued to behave as if he was, ordering round after round of drinks at a bar, having shouting arguments with waiters or taxi drivers, forcing Nina to cringe with embarrassment or become an unwilling participant of his childish bad temper. Then there were the sulks or rages when a critic reviewed his work, or a casting had gone wrong, or there wasn’t the right brand of soap in the bathroom.
Nina crossly kicked a bag that she knew contained some shoes belong to Chris that he couldn’t bear to throw out, and stared at her inbox. 162 emails unread. How was that even possible? She sighed and started to plough through them.
Working from home was great, she had to keep reminding herself. She could work when she liked, she didn’t even have to get dressed if she didn’t feel like it, and there were no workmates to put up with. But there were times when it felt damned lonely. She’d gone freelance a couple of years ago, leaving a London based PR agency. She had been exhausted by the London/Brighton commute, and it had seemed the right thing to do. She specialised in food PR and there was a thriving and enthusiastic food scene in Brighton. So far, it had gone really well and she was in great demand. But there was always that scary thought that there wouldn’t be another client round the corner, which made her take on more and more work. Sure, she got invited to every new restaurant or bar opening and she and Chris ate out a lot, but it was damn hard work.
Chris had enjoyed it at the beginning of their relationship, swanning into restaurants and being made a fuss over. But Nina had to keep an eye on his wine intake, he seemed not have an ‘off’ switch, and got louder and more bad tempered the more he drank. On more than one occasion Nina had had to apologise to the restaurant owners and now dreaded going out with him. She’d tried to talk to him about it, but he insisted that she was ‘making a fuss’ and she had yet to tackle him about it again.
Nina pressed the delete button on the majority of emails, and replied to the ones that seemed urgent. She had a press release to write about a micro brewery in Sussex today and wanted to get that under her belt before she did anything else.
She’d just marshalled all the facts together and was about to start writing when an email popped up from Poppy.
Hi Nina,
Forgot to say that I’m expecting a delivery today – would you be an angel and take it in for me? I’ll pick it up on my way home. Hope that’s OK and you’re not swamped with micro-brewery stuff! Thanks again for Saturday. It was great. Talk laters
Poppy XX
Nina hi the reply button:
Hi Poppy,
Already done! Yes, pick it up later – no problem.
Have a good day
Nina X
Nina settled down to the delights of writing about beer.
Two hours later she stretched, rolling her head and shoulders to get rid of the ache and ambled into the kitchen to make some tea. She stared out of the window whilst she was waiting for the kettle to boil, and decided that she’d spend twenty minutes on her herb garden on the small wooden decking that was outside her kitchen. She grabbed a pair of kitchen scissors and headed outside. The thyme and rosemary really needed a bit of a trim, and the heavenly scent of it filled the air, making her breathe in deeply. She eyed the small shoots of chives that were pushing through the peaty earth and ran her fingertips over the delicate green tips. They’d be shooting up fast now, and soon the small mauve flowers would be visible. She moved down a few wooden steps and prodded the lavender that was in two tubs. It looked quite dead, and Nina knew with certainty that she’d over pruned it last autumn. On the other hand, the bay tree that she’d been quite brutal with was thriving. The small courtyard that came with her ground floor flat was her pride and joy, and Nina loved it with a passion. The apple tree that she’d planted when she first moved in was shivering in the Spring breeze and the honeysuckle that climbed the wooden fence that separated her small courtyard from Poppy and Tom’s larger plot would soon be flowering.
Hannah had the top floor flat the other side and Nina glanced up at the window, hoping that Hannah wasn’t looking at her from her vantage point. She too, worked from home and Nina knew that if she caught her she’d try and pop down for a cup of tea. So far, Nina had managed to avoid too many tea breaks with her, but felt guilty doing so. If only Poppy worked from home rather than Hannah! It would be so much more fun. Nina snipped a sprig of rosemary to take back inside with her and headed back to the office for more micro brewery fact and figures. At this rate she’d soon be a walking fountain of knowledge for all things beery. Still, it might come in handy for a pub quiz night, Nina thought, settling herself down at the computer again.
