Next morning, I wake feeling exhausted as if I’ve had no sleep at all.
Sitting in the kitchen in a bit of a daze, I’m watching Clemmy make tea when the doorbell rings. Clemmy shoots me a glance then dries her hands and goes to answer it.
Hearing the mumbled voices in the hallway, my stomach drops.
Toby.
I really don’t want to face him right now.
Hopefully, Clemmy will send him packing, because if he’s come to apologise and somehow try to explain away his actions, I’m really not interested. He’s hurt me too much for me to ever contemplate forgiving him.
I can tell Clemmy is trying to head him off but Toby seems adamant he needs to speak to me. Feeling like I’m making trouble for Clemmy – who’s got her own problems with Ryan to handle – I swiftly get up and go to the door. I probably look as if I’ve had my face painted for Hallowe’en with my puffy eyes and all the mascara smudges, but I don’t care. When he sees the devastating effect this has had on me, hopefully he’ll feel even more guilty for betraying me …
He looks up as I enter the hallway. ‘Daisy. Are you all right?’
I exchange a glance with Clemmy. ‘Erm, not great, Toby. As you can imagine.’
He glances down. ‘No. Of course.’
‘Where’s the lovely Chantelle?’ I ask, walking towards him, as Clemmy makes a discreet exit, back into the kitchen.
Looking up, he sighs. ‘Look, Daisy, I don’t know how the hell it happened but I never meant it to. Something – I don’t know – weird came over me.’
‘Oh, well that’s all right then,’ I snap.
He ignores this. ‘She’s not even my type. It was just – I don’t know what it was – a moment of …’ He looks around for inspiration.
‘Madness?’ I supply the word, thinking of the irony. At least my moment of madness was over before it had barely begun and was regretted by both parties.
Toby obviously has regrets, too. But however much he might want to undo what happened, I’m not sure I could ever look at him again without visualising him with Chantelle in the most compromising position ever.
‘Madness,’ he repeats. ‘Yes, exactly!’ There’s a strange light in his eyes. ‘It was a sort of madness, Daisy. I’m so glad you understand because, to tell you the truth, I was dreading coming over here. I would never want to hurt you. You know that. I think you’re brilliant in every way.’ He holds out his arms, his face full of love and … happiness?
I stare at him, remaining rooted to the spot.
Does he really think I’ve forgiven him already?
‘Hug? Please?’ He gives me the benefit of his charming smile.
I sigh. ‘Look, Toby. If you’ve come here to tell me how much you regret what happened and to persuade me that we can put it all behind us and carry on as before, I’m afraid it’s a no.’ I shake my head, determined to stand my ground, whatever excuses he starts coming up with for his appalling behaviour.
His eyes widen. ‘Oh, I don’t regret it.’
The world stops for a moment.
I stare at him. Did he just say what I thought he said?
Perhaps he means he doesn’t regret the thing with Chantelle because it’s made him realise how much I mean to him?
He’s shaking his head sadly. ‘The thing is, Daisy, when you find true love, there’s really no way you can resist its power. You just have to go with it. That’s what I said to Chantelle.’
‘You said what to Chantelle?’ I snap, unable to believe my ears. Is he stupid or something?
Toby smiles serenely at the mention of his lover’s name. ‘Chantelle felt bad about you. She wanted us to go our separate ways. She wanted to pretend the spark between us never erupted into the raging flames of all-consuming love. But I told her you wouldn’t want that.’
‘I wouldn’t?’ I swallow, wondering if this is a joke. Perhaps a cameraman is about to jump out of the bushes and ask me if I want to be on a brand-new prime-time reality comedy show called Gotcha!
Toby gives an earnest shake of the head. ‘No, you wouldn’t. I told her you’re a truly loving, understanding sort of person and that you’d be really pleased for us both. And that we actually owed it to you to make a real go of it together.’ He shrugs in a philosophical manner. ‘There’s just nothing you can do when you fall in love at first sight, is there?’
His question jerks me out of my stunned state.
‘Well, you could try keeping your cock in your pants until you’ve informed your current girlfriend of your change of heart,’ I blurt out, trying to push him out of the door. ‘Goodbye, Toby. I hope you and Chantelle have a wonderful life together.’
I catch sight of Chantelle peering out of our tent doorway.
Pulling Toby back in towards me, I treat him to a full-on snog, grabbing his bum in the process.
Toby goes limp with shock for a moment then he starts struggling to get away, twisting round anxiously to look at Chantelle, who’s now come out of the tent and is standing with her hands on her substantial hips.
‘Just letting you know what you’ll be missing,’ I trill with a cheerful smile. ‘Have a nice life.’
Hustling him off the doorstep, I slam the door in his face.
As soon as he’s gone, Clemmy comes out of hiding.
‘Sorry, I really didn’t mean to listen, but …’ She shakes her head in disbelief. ‘What a spud.’
‘A massive spud.’ I nod in wholehearted agreement, then I frown. ‘What’s a spud?’
Clemmy smiles. ‘It’s Ruby’s expression. Apparently in Newcastle it means a completely clueless person.’
I sigh. ‘Well, Toby’s that all right. Imagine coming over here and waxing lyrical about finding love with bloody Chantelle!’
‘Unbelievable.’
‘Bastard.’
She nods, looking suddenly nervous. ‘I … God, I wish I’d had a chance to tell you that time in the café. But then I saw Ryan with that girl and it went right out of my head.’
‘Tell me what?’ I ask, puzzled.
She sighs. ‘That night Chantelle was in your tent. You must have all had dinner together?’
‘That’s right.’
‘I happened to be looking out of the window when Toby was walking her back to her tent. She looked pretty drunk.’
I nod. ‘She was. She’d had about a gallon of red wine.’
‘Well, she staggered to the ground, dragging him with her. And they … well, they didn’t get up for quite a while after that.’
I make a face. ‘Ugh. What a thought.’ Inside, I’m dying a little bit more. ‘He told me they had trouble getting the tent open. That’s why he was such a long time. And, like a bloody fool, I believed him.’
Clemmy shrugs. ‘You’re not the fool. Toby is. For taking you for granted.’
‘Thank you for that.’ I smile wistfully and wander over to the window that overlooks the camp. The tents look beautiful from here. Little palaces of elegance and luxury. ‘It’s really gorgeous, you know. What you’ve achieved here.’
Clemmy joins me at the window. ‘We were planning to expand the business, put more tents in the adjoining field. Ryan was going to start working for himself so that he could be here to help with the glamping. But now …’ She trails off sadly.
‘Talk to him tomorrow when he gets back from the conference,’ I tell her firmly. ‘Everything will be fine, I’m sure of it.’
She nods. Then she points out of the window. ‘Look!’
Toby is emerging from our tent, lugging his case, a sports bag and his laptop over the grass to his car. As we watch, he loads the boot then walks over to Chantelle’s tent, emerging a moment later with two lurid pink cases and wearing a bright yellow Donald Duck neck pillow. Chantelle totters out and stands watching while he packs her belongings alongside his, taking his usual time making sure they fit in there perfectly. At one point she tries to help but he holds out his hands in a ‘stop’ sign, and Chantelle steps back, folding her arms a little sulkily.
‘I’ve probably had a lucky escape,’ I say gloomily.
‘I didn’t like to say so.’
Clemmy turns and, in spite of everything, we smile.
*
Later, I lie on the bed in the tent, staring up at the slanted pale ceiling, hugging one of the squashy cream pillows. Toby’s forgotten to pack his wash bag. It’s lying on the bed and I reach my foot over and kick it onto the floor.
What will he do without his special shower gel, I wonder bitterly.
For good measure, I lean over and pick up the flowers he bought me, hurling the vase onto the floor to join the wash bag. The pottery jug smashes and water goes everywhere. I stare at the mess. I’ll have to buy Clemmy another jug.
Exhausted, I sink back against the pillows.
I need to move forward and forget I ever met Toby. Or his family.
I’d love to think Rosalind and I could keep in touch, but what are the chances? It would be far too messy.
Toby will probably be halfway back to Manchester by now, with the lovely Chantelle in tow. They’ll no doubt be congratulating themselves on their good fortune at having found each other, and Toby will be planning to introduce her to his family, just as he did with me. Will Rosalind take to Chantelle like she warmed to me?
I swallow down the emotion that’s threatening to swamp me. I need to stop thinking about things like that because it doesn’t do me any good to—
Hearing the sound of rustling footsteps outside, I sit up straight and tilt my ear to the door. Oh God, Toby must have come back for his wash bag. Well, he’s not getting in! I have no desire at all to listen to him prattling on about how the stars aligned in the heavens to bring him and the wondrous Chantelle together …
He clears his throat.
‘Bugger off, Toby. I mean it. You’re not getting in!’ I pick up his wash bag, go to the door and open the flap just a few inches. Then I launch the bag at him through the gap with as much force as I can muster, hoping the million-pound shower balm doesn’t survive the shaking up. It’s childish, I know, but you have to find the upside in situations like these.
‘OUCH,’ calls a deep voice that definitely isn’t Toby’s.
I freeze in horror.
What the hell is Jake doing here?