Best of Friends. Cathy Kelly

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ he said now, ‘I can’t believe it’s you. It’s so wonderful to see you – you don’t know how thrilled I am. You’ve made my day!’

      Abby melted. It wasn’t just seeing him that made her feel twenty years younger, but the way he said her name. His voice had always been bewitching, low, husky. He never spoke loudly. Linda, her flatmate at college, who had never liked Jay, said he spoke softly simply to get women to lean closer to him, so he could pounce. But Abby disagreed. She could remember Jay talking to her as if she was the only person on the planet, his misty grey eyes locked with hers, passion smouldering.

      ‘I’ve never felt this way about anyone in the world,’ he’d said. She’d felt the same. Of course, it couldn’t have lasted; they both knew that. Holiday romances didn’t.

      ‘It’s so wonderful to see you.’ Jay pulled her to her feet, and his arms were around her, and in that instant, Abby hugged him back tightly. He’d barely changed. The strong profile and the chiselled jawline were the same, the jaw only softened by the unexpectedly full lower lip that was now curved up into a delighted smile. He still looked fit enough to play a ferociously aggressive game of rugby and his hair was the same dappled chestnut, although shorter than it had been in college. He certainly didn’t look forty-two, which was what he had to be – Abby’s own age.

      He held her at arm’s length and stared appreciatively at her. ‘You look fabulous, Abby. Do you have time for a quick drink and a catch-up?’

      

      They sat in the bar of the hotel across the street and reminisced. Abby had kept in touch with some of the college gang, and, jittery with a strange excitement whenever he accidentally brushed against her, she kept up a stream of conversation about them, discussing how Peter and Fiona had got married after all and now lived in Stockholm, and how Denessa had lived near Abby in Cork until a few years ago.

      Jay, who was in Cork on business, lived in Dublin and ran the sales division of a successful office supply company there. He was married to a woman named Lottie and somehow, Abby wasn’t sure how, he gave a resigned impression that all wasn’t well in the marriage. Abby’s soft heart was moved at the way he shrugged and said wryly that even the best marriages went through difficult patches, didn’t they?

      ‘The boys are five and seven, and they’re great,’ he said. ‘How about yours? You’ve got a daughter, haven’t you?’

      With relief, Abby talked about Jess and Tom, giving Jay the interview version of her life: how thrilled she was with the fame but that her family life was more important than anything else.

      Jay told her about his two young sons, saying he’d married late and that the boys were keeping him young.

      ‘I’m afraid I must go,’ he said finally, when they’d talked for over an hour. ‘I’ve another meeting.’

      ‘Of course,’ said Abby. ‘Me too. Another meeting, I mean.’

      His fingers brushed against hers as they both reached for the bill and Abby again felt the strangest sensation electrify her body. For a moment, she just sat and stared at Jay’s outstretched hand.

      ‘Let me pay,’ he insisted. ‘If you can’t let an old friend buy you a drink, who can? And I’m a very old friend,’ he added, laughing. ‘Look at the grey hairs.’

      Abby laughed easily. ‘Not so old,’ she said. ‘You don’t look a day over thirty-seven. I can only assume you have a portrait in the attic like Dorian Gray.’

      ‘Look who’s talking.’ There was a relaxed, teasing quality to his voice and Abby smiled back as he leaned over and touched her hair. ‘You look fabulous. Fame agrees with you, Abby.’

      Their eyes met and, at that instant, she was able to identify the sensation she’d experienced when he’d touched her previously: the exquisite thrill of sexual attraction. Like the tail flick of an electric eel, desire rippled throughout her body, sending every nerve ending onto high alert. And just as quickly, Abby knew how dangerous it would be to admit this to Jay. How embarrassing to behave like that with an old boyfriend, a married old boyfriend at that.

      The air of savoir-faire she’d worked on so hard for her television persona came to her rescue just in time.

      ‘You charmer,’ she said, her voice deliberately light. ‘I bet you say that to all your old flames.’

      ‘No.’ Jay’s easy smile was gone. ‘I don’t.’

      ‘Well, don’t say it to me,’ she said, falsely stern. ‘I’m an old married lady and I’ve forgotten how to flirt.’

      ‘Bet you haven’t,’ he replied lightly. ‘You were always a temptress.’

      And they were back on safe ground, teasing merrily, two old friends delighted to see each other and happy to reminisce about the past.

      ‘We must have dinner sometime,’ Jay said, getting to his feet.

      Abby, halfway through searching in her handbag for her keys, hesitated. Was he saying what she thought he was saying?

      ‘I’d love to meet Tom, and I know you’d adore Lottie,’ Jay went on.

      ‘Fantastic,’ Abby said heartily, relief mingling with disappointment. It would have been nice if he’d felt the same attraction she did, but it was easier that he didn’t. Her life was complicated enough. ‘Dinner would be wonderful. Here’s my card and we can set it up.’

      The thought of Jay filled her mind all afternoon. There was something wildly exciting about meeting someone who made her feel young and attractive in a way Tom just didn’t any more. And Jay had been so focused on her, he’d given her his full attention, which was something she certainly never got at home these days. Dinosaurs had roamed the earth the last time she’d received anything like as much attention from her husband and daughter. Of course, old friends were always going to be interested in every detail of your life. Catching up, that’s what Jay had been doing – she knew that. But it had been fun, Abby thought wistfully. Great fun.

      

      Four miles away, Jess and Steph were not having fun at all, shivering like whippets in their thin Aertex shirts amongst a class of students on the school football pitch. Mr Hutton, the games teacher, stood at the front and explained that the afternoon sports session would be fun: relay races and five-a-side football to take the fourth years’ minds off the impending exams. Whatever about the exams, nothing could take their minds off the cold wind, which was whistling up from the harbour with the malevolence of a nuclear-powered Jack Frost. Their track-suit tops were all piled on benches behind them because, as Mr Hutton said, ‘You’ll all be roasting after a few minutes of the relay races.’

      ‘I don’t know why he thinks this is going to help us relax,’ growled Steph, rubbing her arms frantically to get warm. ‘He’s all right: he’s wearing a bloody fleece.’

      ‘I hate games,’ muttered Jess. Her arms were turning blue and she’d got her period that morning in French – cramps with jaws like pit bull terriers were gnawing at her belly. She couldn’t bear to think about running in a stupid relay race, never mind actually doing it. But she couldn’t say anything to horrible Mr Hutton. How did they expect girl students to talk about period pains to male sports teachers? It wasn’t on. Her mother had always moaned about having gone to an all-girls school but there had to СКАЧАТЬ