things.
‘Look, Di, I know this isn’t ideal, us both being here –’
‘I should say so,’ snorted Di.
‘But let’s just get on with it, for Harry and Josie’s sake. We don’t want to ruin things for them, do we?’
‘No, that would be too dreadful,’ Diana sounded as sarcastic as ever. Ant felt doubtful his approach was working.
He tried again, ‘I know you think I’m a dick.’
‘Because you are,’ said Diana.
He’d said it partly in jest, and was surprised by the power she still had to hurt him. For a moment, he really wanted her not to think badly of him, wanted her to think of him the way she used to, but he tamped the thought down. No point going there; that door was long since bolted.
‘And I think you’re a cow,’ continued Ant, putting more venom into his words than he’d intended, wanting to hurt her the way she’d hurt him. She looked cross at that, but couldn’t really say anything, given that she’d just insulted him, ‘but we can at least be polite to one another, can’t we?’
‘I suppose,’ Diana said grudgingly. ‘But don’t think you’re going to use that famous charm to worm your way back into my affections. I never make the same mistake twice.’
‘Understood,’ said Ant, raising his hand. ‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’ He resisted the impulse to say
you should be so lucky
.
‘Good,’ said Di.
‘Good,’ agreed Ant, wondering if he could risk shaking on it, but decided it was best not to. There being very little else to say, they sped up to catch up with the other two, and Ant naturally fell back into conversation with Harry, while Diane and Josie resumed their chat about … whatever girls chat about. Even after all these years of bedding and chasing them, Ant wasn’t entirely sure what that was.
1983: Tatiana
Tatiana heard the phone go as she knelt on the floor, checking and rechecking the contents of her suitcase: passport, plane tickets, clothes, bikinis, sunglasses, suntan lotion – not that she’d get much time to sunbathe probably. By all accounts the workload on
Sail for the Sun
was phenomenal, but you never knew.
The phone was still ringing as she finally zipped up her suitcase, and placed her tickets and passport in her handbag, but she decided to ignore it. It would only be Bron, begging her to come back. God knows why he’d suddenly turned so needy after all these years. Who’d have thought?
Walking out on a five-year relationship hadn’t been quite as easy as she’d imagined. Bron had half his stuff at her flat for a start, and she wasn’t quite angry enough to dump it all out in the corridor for him to collect. So instead she’d endured several excruciating visits, when he’d begged her to change her mind.
‘I know the last few months haven’t been easy,’ he’d said.
‘Who for, you? Don’t make me laugh.’ Fear that she might crumble made her cruel. She knew he’d been hurting too, but she pushed the thought to one side. She needed this. She needed to get away, if she had any hope of surviving.
‘No, you,’ he mumbled, his face creased with guilt and pain. He stood underneath the hall light looking forlorn, a little boy lost – a familiar tug pulled at her heart but she ignored it. ‘Of course, for you, they’ve been tough. And I haven’t helped, I know.’
‘No, you haven’t,’ said Tati, then, briskly changing the subject, ‘We seem to have two copies of
Rumours
, do you want one?’
She went into overdrive, tidying, cleaning, sorting, organising. Anything to stop herself from actually talking to him. All those months, and all she’d wanted was for Bron to listen, to hold her, to share it with her. And now he was ready to, and it was too late. If she let him pull her back now, she’d be lost again, and this opportunity would be gone.
‘Can’t I at least hope?’ Bron had pleaded on his last visit, the one where she’d eventually banned him from seeing her again.
‘You can hope,’ she said, hardening
‘Look, Di, I know this isn’t ideal, us both being here –’
‘I should say so,’ snorted Di.
‘But let’s just get on with it, for Harry and Josie’s sake. We don’t want to ruin things for them, do we?’
‘No, that would be too dreadful,’ Diana sounded as sarcastic as ever. Ant felt doubtful his approach was working.
He tried again, ‘I know you think I’m a dick.’
‘Because you are,’ said Diana.
He’d said it partly in jest, and was surprised by the power she still had to hurt him. For a moment, he really wanted her not to think badly of him, wanted her to think of him the way she used to, but he tamped the thought down. No point going there; that door was long since bolted.
‘And I think you’re a cow,’ continued Ant, putting more venom into his words than he’d intended, wanting to hurt her the way she’d hurt him. She looked cross at that, but couldn’t really say anything, given that she’d just insulted him, ‘but we can at least be polite to one another, can’t we?’
‘I suppose,’ Diana said grudgingly. ‘But don’t think you’re going to use that famous charm to worm your way back into my affections. I never make the same mistake twice.’
‘Understood,’ said Ant, raising his hand. ‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’ He resisted the impulse to say
you should be so lucky
.
‘Good,’ said Di.
‘Good,’ agreed Ant, wondering if he could risk shaking on it, but decided it was best not to. There being very little else to say, they sped up to catch up with the other two, and Ant naturally fell back into conversation with Harry, while Diane and Josie resumed their chat about … whatever girls chat about. Even after all these years of bedding and chasing them, Ant wasn’t entirely sure what that was.
1983: Tatiana
Tatiana heard the phone go as she knelt on the floor, checking and rechecking the contents of her suitcase: passport, plane tickets, clothes, bikinis, sunglasses, suntan lotion – not that she’d get much time to sunbathe probably. By all accounts the workload on
Sail for the Sun
was phenomenal, but you never knew.
The phone was still ringing as she finally zipped up her suitcase, and placed her tickets and passport in her handbag, but she decided to ignore it. It would only be Bron, begging her to come back. God knows why he’d suddenly turned so needy after all these years. Who’d have thought?
Walking out on a five-year relationship hadn’t been quite as easy as she’d imagined. Bron had half his stuff at her flat for a start, and she wasn’t quite angry enough to dump it all out in the corridor for him to collect. So instead she’d endured several excruciating visits, when he’d begged her to change her mind.
‘I know the last few months haven’t been easy,’ he’d said.
‘Who for, you? Don’t make me laugh.’ Fear that she might crumble made her cruel. She knew he’d been hurting too, but she pushed the thought to one side. She needed this. She needed to get away, if she had any hope of surviving.
‘No, you,’ he mumbled, his face creased with guilt and pain. He stood underneath the hall light looking forlorn, a little boy lost – a familiar tug pulled at her heart but she ignored it. ‘Of course, for you, they’ve been tough. And I haven’t helped, I know.’
‘No, you haven’t,’ said Tati, then, briskly changing the subject, ‘We seem to have two copies of
Rumours
, do you want one?’
She went into overdrive, tidying, cleaning, sorting, organising. Anything to stop herself from actually talking to him. All those months, and all she’d wanted was for Bron to listen, to hold her, to share it with her. And now he was ready to, and it was too late. If she let him pull her back now, she’d be lost again, and this opportunity would be gone.
‘Can’t I at least hope?’ Bron had pleaded on his last visit, the one where she’d eventually banned him from seeing her again.
‘You can hope,’ she said, hardening
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