Love is a Four Letter Word

“Is that what they teach you at posh schools these days?”

It was like he’d read her mind. “Better than learning how to balance a book on your head.”

“Can you do that too?” He looked grave, serious. Was studying her like he thought he’d made a mistake.

“Not at the same time.”

This time he ignored the flippant comment, didn’t join in with the banter. “Don’t let having it all fuck you up, Georgie girl.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“There’s nothing wrong with nice.” Which was even more confusing.

He flicked his visor down, so all she could see was the dark shadow of his eyes.

“Do you want to come in?” She hadn’t meant to say it, she never said it. But it just came spilling out.

“No thanks. You got what you wanted, better to leave it at that, eh?” He revved up the bike hard, swung it in a tight circle and she was left standing on the pavement with the smell of exhaust fumes acrid in her nostrils.

Prick. Georgie slammed the door behind her, dropped her purse in the hallway and headed for the kitchen. He’d got what he wanted as well, hadn’t he? Wasn’t that what it was about? She glanced at the bottles of white wine that lined the fridge, then with a sigh reached for the bottle of water.

It was the way he’d looked at her. A mixture of anger and concern. A bit like the look her father used to give her when she’d been naughty and he’d been asking her why. He was one hundred per cent sober, unlike her, but he’d had this restrained anger about him that made her want to call him back. Ask him why. But she never did that. Never asked. Not any more, not these days.

And he was wrong, whatever he meant. There was a hell of a lot wrong with nice. Being nice, having nice. Nice had left her with a shit life and no-one who gave a monkeys about her. Nice was a one way street.

She tipped what was left of her drink down the sink. At least being bad meant she got something back.

Chapter Two

“What has got into you?” Ella put her feet up on the glass topped coffee table so that they could both admire her new shoes. “Pissing off is one thing, but you never even answered my texts.”

Georgie could hear a note of hurt and felt an instant stab of guilt. “I’m sorry. Really sorry.” She knew what it felt like to be ignored so she didn’t often do it. Well, not to friends. She picked at a loose thread on the cushion she was holding. “He’s an ass. An insufferable jerked up ass.”

“So you said.”

“I’m sorry. But how can he be so fucking sanctimonious about being nice? I mean, since when did he do what he was supposed to?”

“Exactly.”

There was a dry edge to her tone and Georgie glanced up sharply. “Meaning?”

“What is it about you and bad boys?”

“You should try it.” She felt the grin creep onto her face. “That motorbike—”

“Georgie!”

“Sorry, just saying.”

“I mean, if you’re doing it for the kicks then fine, I suppose. But you’re really doing it to piss off your dad and Carol, aren’t you?” She paused. “Aren’t you?”

“Can we drop the lecture? I’ve got a bad enough headache as it is.”

Ella sighed. “Fine. So, why did you leave so early?”

“That dick from the restaurant was hassling me, and I was tired.”

“The city wanker?”

“That’s the one. I wish I’d just poured the contents of the ice bucket over him after he’d paid the bill, they were just so pissed up and loud I’m sure all the other customers would have thanked me.”

“At least a guy like that wouldn’t use you.”

“Just fuck me you mean?”

“You know what I mean, at least you’d know he wanted your body and not your money.”

“Ella, I can’t believe you just said that. He was a complete slime-ball.” She shuddered. “Can you imagine him slobbering and pawing all over you?”

“No, I can’t believe I said it really.” Ella sighed. “But those down and out guys you keep flirting with just screw you around.”

“I like being screwed.”

She laughed. “You know what I mean. You pay for everything, they get the high life, then—”

“Then I dump them, if they really try it on.” The only time she’d really got burned was with the guy who’d managed to nick her credit card and run up a mega bill before it had even occurred to her that it could be him. And she wasn’t falling for that one again. She had thought there was something a bit shifty about him, but the way he’d pinned her to the bed and made her do exactly what he wanted had turned her on something rotten. He’d been rough and he’d talked dirty, telling her just what he was going to do to her. Her body started to liquefy just at the thought. Nice. Well, it had been for a while. Until the novelty had worn off and he’d stuck his grubby fingers in her purse.

“But don’t you want a nice guy, one you’re not looking for an excuse to dump?”

“No, Ella. Now stop sounding like grumpy old Alfie. When I’m ready to give up on life and settle down with some rich namby-pamby mummy’s boy and breed, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Really?”

“Don’t hold your breath though, it could be a one way trip to asphyxiation.”

Ella shook her head. “I give up. Are we supposed to be working?”

“Yeah.” Georgie picked up the sheet of paper that was on the sofa at the side of her. “Finding a location for this shoot, and a list of models. I mean, what is it about the great outdoors, what’s wrong with a nice city shoot?”

“For country stuff?” Ella giggled.

“But it isn’t proper country stuff is it? It’s country stuff for city people so they can pretend they’re having a relaxing time. Not that the country is relaxing. Latte and shoe shopping sounds a much better deal to me.”

“Says the country girl.”

“Reformed.” She stared blankly at the sheet of paper. “And can you honestly think of a male model we’ve used recently who looks rugged? He’s even put ‘modern day John Wayne’ in brackets after it. Good job it’s in fucking pencil then I can rub it out, I mean, what the hell does that mean?”

“Rugged.” Ella wriggled and settled deeper into the cushions. “A real man, with abs and muscles and… how about your biker boy?”

“Jake? Piss off, I am not asking Jake. Stop looking at me like that. No. No way, and he’s not a model.”

“But Toby doesn’t want a model, he wants a real man. A bad boy, and he knows you’re the expert.”

“Will you stop keeping saying real like you’re saying alien.”

“It would give you a chance to see him again, you know you want to.”

“No, I don’t. You can’t even look me in the face when you say it, wimp.”

“Where does he live? Have you got his number?”

“How should I know where he lives? You’re sounding like catty Carol now.”

Ella didn’t rise to the bait. “You’ve got a pic? We can flash it around town, we’ll soon root him out.”

“He’s not a fox gone to earth.”

“People will know him if he’s half as sexy as you say, well the girls will anyway.”

“You’re beginning to sound like a stalker, and no I haven’t got a photo. Was I supposed to shout ‘smile’ while he was shagging my brains out on a motorbike?” Georgie closed her eyes. Let’s face it, he was exactly what Toby was after. A dark, brooding figure in the background. A guy who’d look sexy in torn dirty jeans and a T-shirt in a way that none of the models they could afford would look. She didn’t want to see him again. He’d given her the orgasm of a lifetime, but hey, how much of that was down to a few drinks and the thrum of the engine? No, she definitely didn’t want to see him again. But, if they used him on the shoot he would just be a hired hand. He wouldn’t get a chance to wind her up and be rude to her. Not that he’d been outright rude, just courteous in a rude way that got under her skin.

“So, what is it with you and this Jake? Did you snog behind the bike sheds at school or something?”

“No.” More’s the pity, except I was a dull little mouse back then. “We were at the same school but we might as well have been on different planets.” For all the notice he took, except he did remember me, which is a weird one. “He was one of the bad boys and I was one of the good girls.”

“Yeah.” Ella laughed. “Sure you were.”

But she had been. She’d worked hard, been happy. Until her parents had split up, and she’d been shipped off to a crappy boarding school in the back of beyond.

“Okay, maybe I wasn’t that good.” She forced a grin onto her stiff face. Ella didn’t know what her life had been like. Ella only knew the person she’d turned herself into. The girl who knew what she wanted and went out and got it. On her own. With as many thrills and spills crammed in along the way as she could manage. “But Jake was definitely bad. I didn’t recognise him at first, it was a long time ago. And he definitely didn’t have a big beast like that ready to be unleashed when we were at school.”

“You are so rude. So?”

“So, what?”

“Is he the real deal? Are you going to go dig him out so we can all have a look?”

“I don’t know.” She nibbled the side of her nail.

“I’m sure Toby will sort something out if we can’t, I mean he’ll understand that you can’t always deliver.”

Georgie shook her head slowly at Ella. She was winding her up, challenging her because she knew Georgie didn’t like to fail. Ever.

Ella raised an eyebrow, sensing victory. “It’s your call.”

And yeah, he was the real deal. “I’ll try and find him, ask him.” He’d say no. What was it he’d said? Don’t let having it all fuck you up? Something told her that Jake didn’t want it all, he never had. He’d always shunned the rich kids at school, kept his distance and kept his pride. And she had a horrible feeling that even flashing her posh frocks and posy job made him angry. He thought she was a rich, spoiled brat who just used people. He hadn’t had to say it, it was in his eyes, in that slightly judgemental tone he’d tried not to let creep into his voice. He’d taken her out on his bike because she’d asked, and because he’d wanted her as much as she wanted him. But he didn’t want anything else to do with her.

Which could make this tricky. But she wanted to know why. Which made it even trickier. What did she care? He was a thug with a chip on his shoulder. Except he wasn’t a thug. Bugger.

She tried not to grin, look like she didn’t care either way. “If he says no, then it’s your turn to think of someone, Ella.”

“If he says no, then you’re losing your touch, wild child.”

“Thanks.”

“Welcome. So where do we start?”

“We?” Georgie raised an eyebrow.

“We.” Ella folded her arms. “What does he do?”

“Do?”

“Can we cut the monosyllabic responses George, I know you’re smarter than that. What does he do, you know, for a job?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know?”

“So what did you two talk about then?”

“Talk?” She raised the eyebrows as high as they could go and looked at her friend as though she’d sprouted an extra head. “This wasn’t supposed to be the start of a beautiful relationship, Ella.”

“Sorry, I forgot for a moment there who I was talking to.”

Georgie stared at the ceiling. One thing she’d liked about this place when she was growing up was that everyone knew everybody else. And their business. Which she hated now, but… “I know somebody who is good at talking. Mrs Bea. Come on, we’re going for a walk.”

“Walk?”

Georgie grinned at the way Ella was staring at her feet. Beautifully encased in her new, totally impractical, designer shoes. “Now who can’t string a sentence together?” She still wasn’t entirely convinced this was a good idea, but the damned man seemed to have taken residence in her head, and the only way to evict him was to see him in broad daylight when she was sober. Then he wouldn’t be the bad boy super stud she’d imagined. He’d be normal, boring and not in the slightest bit interesting at all. He probably had a weak chin, and spots. And a bad haircut. And he was probably so rough at the edges he wouldn’t even do for the shoot. “Let’s go hunt us down a biker boy.”

***

The sweet shop wasn’t quite how she remembered it. The bell still pinged when you opened the door, but that was about it. Obviously, just selling plain old sweets didn’t cut the mustard these days, you needed to sell them labelled as sugared candy or ‘Olde Worlde’ and replace the pocket money prices with wage packet ones.

And cuddly Mrs Bea had been replaced by a sullen girl with long, straight, blonde hair and a scowl. If she’d been in earlier she’d have known, but somehow since returning to the town sweets hadn’t been high on her priority list. Men kept the pounds off the hips, well at least the type she’d been after did, sugar put them on. So she’d concentrated on the boys.

“Wow, look at these George, I’ve not seen candy necklaces since I was a kid.” Ella was dangling a string of sweets from one finger, a wide grin on her face. “Hey, and sherbet dips, and have you seen this they’ve got gobstoppers.”

“Now I know what the expression like a kid in a candy shop really means.” Georgie rolled her eyes in what she hoped was a theatrical, and not a sarcastic, fashion. But Ella didn’t care, she was too busy skipping from one new delight to the next. Literally.

“Well my, if it isn’t little Georgina Hampton. And haven’t you grown up?”

Georgie spun round at the sound of the familiar kind but firm tone of Mrs Bea. Her hair was shorter, slightly more curled and the grey that had been creeping in last time they’d met had taken over. But the round face was instantly recognisable, the twinkling eyes surrounded now by a few more wrinkles. And the broad grin was the one she remembered. If Father Christmas had been a woman, he’d have been Mrs Bea.

Beatrice Stone and her sweet shop had been a childhood treat that no amount of hard knocks could make her forget.

“I’d heard you were back in town, dear.”

See, she’d been right. That was just typical of this place, everyone over the age of thirty probably knew where she was working, how long she was staying (even though she didn’t herself) and who she’d been talking to. And what she’d been doing on a motorbike last night. She felt the colour rise to a glow in her cheeks and felt like some naïve kid who’d been caught out kissing behind the bike sheds. Not that she’d ever actually done that when she was at school.

Mrs Bea chuckled and the temperature went up another notch, if that was possible. She was not, was definitely not, going to let coming back here send her back to her teens. She was stronger than that, she’d changed. She was who she wanted to be.

“So, you’re back at the old place then?”

“No, in the apartment.” She picked up a lollipop, turned it slowly in her fingers. “I didn’t want to stay in the house, it’s too big.” Not that it was hers to stay in any more. Bea would know, but Bea probably just wanted to know more. She glanced up and the older woman was watching her closely. “And they—” she wasn’t going to say the witches name again, “--had rented it out anyway.” She shrugged. Carol had been thrilled, almost orgasmic in her ecstasy, if that was possible for a woman her age and mass, when she’d told them she was going back home for the summer. And Alfie had looked totally relieved. He’d passed a half-hearted ‘are you sure that’s what you want’ then hadn’t waited for a response. Oh yeah, they couldn’t wait to get rid of her and the only fly in the ointment has been the fact that they’d put the house, her home, out on long term rent. But then he’d remembered it had an annexe, and he’d moved heaven and earth to get it cleaned up, decorated and aired for her. Amazing how fast people could move when they really wanted to get rid of somebody. Not that they knew why she was really going back. She’d wondered who the germ of an idea that had been growing in her head would frighten more, if she ever mentioned it, her or Alfie. He’d probably clam up, head her off if he knew. Like he always did when she mentioned anything to do with the past.

“And how are your father and Carol?”

“Fine.” She put the lollipop back, and ignored the question on Bea’s face. She wasn’t going to talk about them. It had been a long overdue parting of the ways, and she would have moved earlier if she’d had the money to do it. But she’d flunked school, so he made her stay on until she had at least some qualifications to her name. And, after that, the first year of her art course had been great, but then Carol had kicked up such a fuss that he’d forced her into some stupid college where she was supposed to learn some ‘life skills’, yeah how to woo and wed it should have been called, before finally giving up and letting her choose how she wanted to live her own life.

She could almost feel the scowl forming on her face. She hated him for giving in to her step mum and not letting her finish the art course. She’d actually liked that one, but after the incident with the teacher… She sighed inwardly, it wasn’t her fault he was hot and wanted a muse, well was it? Artists were like that.

Being stuck in the sticks with boring old Alfie, Carol and their brood of boring kids hadn’t been her idea of fun. Working for them in their crap company wasn’t what she wanted to do with her life either. Being back here for the summer was marginally better. They didn’t want her in their hair, any more than she had the urge to be there. But the stupid old fart had to get the last word in, if she hadn’t got a job sorted and a plan for the future by the end of the summer then she had to go back – to ‘discuss things’. Well, to hell with them. She’d walked into The Veneto just as the front of house was walking out. It had been perfect timing, fate. And with her upmarket, boarding school background, the polished finish that the stupid college course had given her, and clothes to match the clients, she’d slid into place like she’d been there forever.

And on the second day at work she’d bumped into Ella and her mates doing a shoot at the restaurant. She’d watched them for a while, then tentatively suggested a different, much better spot to take photographs and before she knew it she was unofficial location scout.

So ancient Alfie and catty Carol could take a hike. She’d got two jobs. And that was just the start.

“Fine?” Bea was studying her carefully.

Fine, as long as she could keep the fifty mile gap between her and them. She nodded.

“Well, it’s lovely to see you back, dear. I’ve missed you. Oh my, your friend has got a sweet tooth.” She chuckled, and Georgie turned to see Ella depositing an armful of sweets on the counter with a sheepish grin. The sullen blonde had miraculously transformed into the epitome of customer service when Bea had appeared. All smiles and ‘how can I help you?’

“They aren’t all for me.” Ella had realised they were watching her unloading her sugared bounty.

“Sure, I believe you.”

“They’re for the crew as well. Honest. They will love them.”

The crew. She was here for a reason, here because Bea knew everyone and everything that happened in this place.

“Mrs Bea, Bea, I was wondering, you don’t know where…”

“Rowena.”

“Sorry?”

“He’s out at Rowena’s place.”

Fuck it was worse than she’d thought. Bea probably did know about the bike. And everything that had happened. Oh Christ, she resisted the urge to cover her face with her hands.

“I wondered when you’d get round to asking.”

They had to be a coven of witches. They just had to be. All these respectable looking old women must get together around their modern day cauldron, or crystal ball, or whatever and watch what everybody was up to.

“On Marsh Lane.”

It took a moment to register. “Marsh Lane?” She stared blankly at the older woman. He couldn’t be there. He just couldn’t.

Bea opened the door for them. “Yes, dear.” She patted Georgie on the back. “I’m sure that place brings back memories, doesn’t it? I remember you going down there every spare moment you had.” Her voice was soft. Georgie stared, incapable of speaking, her throat tight, and her stomach hollow. She just stood there not sure what was supposed to come next, Ella nudging with her elbow, her hands full of enough sugar to put every kid in the village school on a high until Christmas.

“Sarah Dixon saw him dropping you off last night. Now you take care, won’t you? And pop in again soon. And you watch yourself with that Jake Harcourt, although he’s not the hell raiser he used to be.”

Georgie tried to push the shock of where he was aside. Concentrate on what was really important. Okay, maybe they weren’t witches, maybe just curtain twitching nosy neighbours. Thank Christ she hadn’t kissed him, or, she gulped. She’d asked him in. Heaven help her if he’d said yes. They’d have made the front page of the local newspaper and given the town enough ammunition for the reverberations to get all the way back to Alfie.

Except she was an adult. She was allowed to ask who she wanted in. And if she wanted a wild ride on his motorbike then she was perfectly entitled to do that too.

Bugger.

“Georgie, Georgie.” The sharp elbow in her ribs brought her back down to earth with an ouch. “What was all that about then? And can you grab some of these sweets off me please, pretty please?”

“You do realise you’ll explode if you eat this lot?” Georgie put a handful of the sweets in her pocket and stared at Ella, determined to focus on her, and not an image of Jake on his motorbike, on Marsh Lane.

“Have you seen these—?”

“I don’t want to see. I put on pounds just looking. I’ll walk back with you, then I need to get the car.”

“I’m coming too.”

“Nope.” She shook her head slowly to make sure Ella got the message. This was a trip down memory lane she had to take on her own. Firstly, because it was Rowena’s place which could stir up feelings she was sure she didn’t want to acknowledge, second because she had a horrible feeling the only plan she had for the future was about to be cocked up in a terminal way, and thirdly … well, thirdly she didn’t quite know what to make of the bad biker boy any more.

“Spoilsport.”

“You got it.” Next time she laid eyed on Jake Harcourt she wanted to be on her own, because every time the thought of that bike entered her head, which was pretty often, she felt an indescribable urge to be bad. Very bad.

***

Georgie had ditched the high heels in favour of a pair of old wellingtons she’d found in the outhouse and she’d pulled on an old sweater, jeans and a beret to keep her warm. The thick long scarf was because she hadn’t got a baggy enough jacket to go over the rest. So not front-of-house.

She sauntered slowly up the lane feeling liberated in the flat boots. When was the last time she’d walked anywhere? When was the last time she’d pulled on scruffy old clothes and just relaxed? She couldn’t remember. Life wasn’t like that anymore.

One kick of the crisp brown mottled leaves in the air and she was thrown, instantly, painfully, back to being a child again. A laughing, joking Georgie being chased by her father down this lane. Thrown up in the air until she squealed.

Swallowing the pang of sadness down, she blinked hard to clear the mist from her eyes. It was too long ago, she shouldn’t let an autumn day and walking down this oh so familiar lane affect her like that. It was just a road. It could be anywhere. But when she glanced up, the white puff balls of cloud scudding across a clear blue sky made her ache inside. A lump that hadn’t been there for a long time clutched at her chest, tightened her throat until it was hard to swallow.

One day it had been normal. The next it was screaming and tears. She’d never heard her parents swear before, or even argue, but now they’d used up a lifetime’s quota over the explosive week that it lasted. Then nothing. One last door banging and the war was over. A ghostly quiet and a father who systematically, scarily, smashed every plate in the house.

She’d wanted to yell at him to stop. But she didn’t. Instead she ran away. Hid at the bottom of the garden under the safe canopy of trees until he came to find her. The next day he packaged her up like some unwanted gift that needed returning to the store. Took her away from her home, from her school, from her friends. Installed her somewhere bright, shiny and new. With the man who overnight had changed from the laughing dad into the alien Alfie and, too soon after, she’d been introduced to his dotty wife-to-be Carol.