layout and the low beams that lent the buzzing room an air of cosiness.
“A glass of Sauvignon?” He raised a questioning eyebrow remembering her tipple as he pushed his way through to the crowded bar.
“Hmm, yes please.”
“How about I order while you grab a table?”
Kitty nodded and went to turn away, but he stopped her. She could feel the heat of his hand on her shoulder as with twinkling eyes he asked, “Are you still a prawn cocktail girl?”
Her mouth curled into a small smile at his reference to her favourite crisps. It had been one of those silly couple jokes between them, her love of the prawn cocktail crisp and the fact she’d never share her packet with him. “Of course,” she replied, knowing that her churning stomach wouldn’t let her touch them even if he were to buy a bag.
Leaving him waving a tenner trying to attract the barman, she weaved her way through the tables. There was a soccer match blaring from the television bracketed to the wall at the far end of the room. The pub was heaving, but she managed to spot a table near the loos, empty for obvious reasons. She didn’t care, though; she needed to sit down because she was frightened that if she didn’t her legs might give way.
Leaning her case against the wall, she pulled the chair out and sank gratefully down on the seat before resting her elbows on the table. Lowering her head she massaged her temples, in an attempt to still the throbbing. What are you doing, Kitty? She knew if Yasmin were to walk into the pub right now she’d drag her out by her hair. At the very least she’d tell her she was a bloody fool. She’d be right too. Raising her head, she tucked her hair behind her ears and inhaled slowly. She needed to get out of here before she did something she knew she’d regret and getting to her feet, she slung her handbag back over her shoulder. She had just grabbed the handle of her case intent on leaving when Damien materialized through the group of lads standing in a huddle staring up at the telly.
He stopped in front of her, a drink in each hand. “They sold out of prawn cocktail, but that’s no reason to leave.” He didn’t smile despite his attempt at humour. “Please don’t go, Kitty.” His eyes pleaded. Eyes that were so familiar to her with their flecks of dark blue around the irises, and as she hesitated, she knew she was lost even as she tried to be strong.
“Damien, this isn’t a good idea.”
“I’m so sorry for everything.” He put the drinks down on the table and pulled her chair back out for her. “Please just give me five minutes to talk to you. I miss you. I miss us.”
With every fibre of her being telling her not to, she sat down again and watched warily as he sat down opposite her. “Thank you, I know you have every right to walk away. It’s just that it’s so good to see you. I’ve missed you so bloody much.”
Don’t say that! She picked up her glass taking a large swallow, not wanting to meet his gaze over its rim. To look anywhere other than at him, she put her glass down and fished around in her handbag for her phone. The French women had said she would confirm her travel arrangements within the hour and hoping for the distraction her call would bring, she placed her phone down on the table.
She caught Damien’s raised eyebrow and launched into her reasons for being back in the North and why this time tomorrow she would be in the small Provencal town of Uzés.
When she’d finished, Damien stared at her, his pint glass paused halfway to his mouth.
“That’s pretty much it in a nutshell.” It sounded mental saying it all out loud, and it was all down to her mother and her bloody secrets.
“Life’s never dull when you’re around Kitty, that’s for sure.”
She bit back the retort that it wasn’t exactly dull when he was around either, and for all the wrong reasons but he didn’t miss the look that flashed across her face.
“Believe me, I have had plenty of time to think about what I did, how I ruined everything.”
“Why did you do it?” she asked softly.
“I was scared.” He shrugged.
“Of what? I thought we were doing okay?” She was clutching the stem of her glass so tightly she was surprised it didn’t snap. It was a conversation she’d never expected to have.
“We were. We were better than okay; we were great. I wanted to marry you more than anything, and believe me I have thought about what went wrong. I’ve thought about nothing else, and the only explanation I can come up with is that I was frightened of making that final commitment and Leanne was my subconscious way of sabotaging our relationship.”
Kitty drained her glass, in her opinion, there wasn’t anything subconscious about shagging someone else, you either were or you weren’t, simple. “So you were a commitment-phobe, is that what you are trying to say?”
He had the grace to look sheepish. “It sounds stupid I know, but that’s what it boils down to. You know the crap Sam and I went through with our parents when they split up.”
She nodded, she had known his parents’ ugly divorce had left its scars, but then nobody got through life without accumulating baggage along the way, it was just the way of the world. She’d had to deal with her mother’s past being a closed book all her life. The scenarios she had conjured up to fill in the blanks had been endless. On top of that, she’d found herself orphaned at thirty-one years of age. So yes, she knew better than most that life sucked sometimes, but that didn’t mean you had to go around bonking someone behind your fiancée’s back.
Her phone shrilled, and she was grateful for the interruption, but her hand hovered over the phone not wanting to be rude. Damien leaned back into his chair and waved his hand toward it. “You’d better take it.”
The lads who were glued to the match let out a roar and Kitty frowned holding the phone up to her ear. “Can you wait just a moment, please?” she shouted into the mouthpiece before covering it and looking at Damien. “I’m just going to pop into the Ladies. I can’t hear a thing with that lot carrying on.”
Damien nodded, and she felt his eyes on her back like twin laser beams as she walked off. Closing the washroom door, she was grateful for a few moments to compose herself. “Sorry about that I’m in a pub, and it’s very noisy.” She peered into the smeared mirror at her flushed face and dishevelled hair and shook her head. God, she looked a mess.
“Bonjour, Mademoiselle Kitty, it is Simone Cazal, Monsieur Beauvau’s assistant calling you.”
“Hello, Miss Cazal.”
“It is Simone, please.”
“Er okay, then Simone.” Kitty turned away from her reflection and leaned against the sink. She listened as the woman told her that her tickets for a ten a.m. flight would be waiting for her to collect at the Lufthansa desk at Manchester Airport in the morning. She would be there to meet her upon her arrival in Marseille. Her return flight would be booked at the end of the photo shoot. If Kitty was happy to sign the contract upon her arrival and provide her bank account details the sum of five thousand euros would be deposited into her account. It would be a one-off, full and final payment for her participation in the photo shoot.
Kitty just about dropped her phone “Er pardon me, Simone, did you just say five thousand euros?”
“Yes,
