Getting him Back Read online

  Getting him Back

  By Anna Pescardot

  Copyright 2011 Anna Pescardot

  Smashwords Edition

  Thank you for purchasing this eBook.

  This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and events depicted are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events or locales are entirely coincidental. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

  Chapter One

  Honeymoon blues

  I should have been in Saint Lucia, lying on the beach while my new husband rubbed suntan lotion on my back. Instead, I was at my desk typing up a report for the boss from hell. She’d given it back to me twice already and I knew she’d go mad if I got it wrong for a third time, but my mind wasn’t on the job. All I could think about was Mark- my first real love - my childhood sweetheart. I looked at the words on the screen. They seemed to merge into a blur as I tried to stop myself from crying again. Doreen, who sits next to me, gave me a sympathetic look. ‘Are you all right, love?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m just fed up.’ I hammered the keys on the keyboard, trying to release the pent up anger inside me. Once the last sentence was complete, I gave it a quick proofread before taking it to Mia’s office. Mia looked up from her laptop. ‘I hope it’s going to be perfect this time.’ She took the papers from me and scrunched up her eyes as she read, her concentration etching a small line between her eyebrows. She sighed and tutted. ‘This is not good enough - again. You know, Terri, if this is the best you’re capable of then I am seriously going to have to look for a new PA.’ I felt like telling her to do just that but I needed the money and right now, my job was all I had going for me, even though it was utterly boring and full of stress.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mia. You know I’ve had personal problems.’

  ‘You can’t bring personal problems into the workplace. I’ve told you that before. It’s completely unprofessional. For your information, I happen to have personal problems of my own – not that you’d know unless I told you. I keep my problems to myself and I refuse to let it affect my work.’

  I found it so hard to remain calm. ‘I’m trying my best. Just let me know how I can improve the report and I’ll do it.’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘That’s what you said last time. I’ve added the amendments. Maybe you should get Doreen to check it before you bring it to me. I need it done before close of play today so I suggest you get back to it.’ She threw the papers towards me and turned her eyes towards her laptop. ‘And close the door behind you.’

  I went back to my desk and was pleased to find a nice hot mug of tea and a scone, which Doreen had bought from the cake trolley. Doreen was great. She was like a second mum. ‘Thanks, Dor. This is just what I need.’ I bit into the scone and savoured its sweet, sickly taste. It masked the bitterness I was feeling.

  ‘Did she give you a hard time?’ Doreen asked, nodding at my report.

  ‘What do you think? She’s such a cow. I’m sure she does it on purpose.’

  ‘I don’t envy you, love. I’m just happy I have Steve. He never makes a fuss.’

  ‘Yeah, but you’re good at your job though. I’m rubbish. I don’t know how I got this job in the first place!’

  ‘You must have done something right.’

  ‘Either that or nobody else would work for her!’

  ‘You’ve got a point there!’ Doreen laughed and nibbled her scone.

  Mia Cowell was head of the marketing department and she made everyone’s lives a misery. She had the right name: Mia, because all she thought about was herself – me, me, me and Cowell, because firstly, she was a total cow and secondly she was as sarcastic and judgemental as Simon Cowell, only not as funny and likeable. And to top it all she was annoyingly pretty. She was as tall and slim as a catwalk model with long dark brown hair and sharp green eyes, which slanted upwards like a black panther’s. She drove a black car too, a black sports car. I refused to believe that she had personal problems. I bet the only problem she had was whether she’d get her hands on the latest designer bag before anyone else did.

  After Doreen had given her seal of approval, I took the report into Mia’s office. I wouldn’t be responsible for my actions if she threw it at me again. Her face remained expressionless as she turned each page, which was a good sign. She turned the last page, nodded and then handed it back to me. ‘That’ll do. Send it to Mr Groves and keep a copy for me in the file. Thanks.’ She waved her hand at me, which was her sign for me to leave.

  Now that I’d finished the report, I had nothing major to do, except think about Mark. I replayed the scene from that Thursday night, over and over, inside my head until I thought I would die.

  Chapter Two

  That Thursday Night

  I always went to Mark’s flat on Thursdays. He would either cook something or get us a takeout from the local Chinese. He would usually have chicken chow mien, while I preferred the spicier options. I’d let myself in with my key and was surprised to see an empty flat. Mark was nowhere to be seen and there was no sign of any food being cooked. Maybe he’s gone out for the takeout, I thought, but then I saw it on the table – a note.

  Gone to the pub. Back soon. Mark

  The first thing I noticed was the lack of emotion. He usually wrote something like, Dear Terri and Love Mark. I felt my stomach turn over. Feeling nervous I walked over to his fridge and cracked open a can of lager. I took it to the table and read the note again. It was quite abrupt; this wasn’t like Mark at all. I sipped the lager and jumped when I heard his key turning in the door. His eyes widened when he saw me. It was as though he didn’t expect me to be there. ‘Terri,’ he said, staggering towards the table. He sat down. ‘How are you?

  ‘I’m a little bit confused actually. What’s going on?’

  He took off his jacket and placed it around the back of his chair, ‘I’ve something I need to tell you. There’s no easy way to say it so I’ll just come out with it. I can’t marry you.’ He burped then pulled out his chair to sit down. I didn’t know what to say so I just stared at him. His pale blue eyes, which were usually so warm, were devoid of emotion and his dirty-blond hair was dishevelled where he kept pushing his hands through it. It was as though somebody else had replaced him. I was so angry that he felt he had to get drunk to tell me.

  I felt tears welling up in my eyes, ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s better I tell you now, right? I didn’t want to stand you up at the altar.’

  ‘But why did you let it get this far? The wedding’s in two weeks!’

  ‘I know. I guess I just got swept along. We’ve been together nine years so I thought it was the right thing to do.’

  ‘Don’t you love me any more?’

  ‘Yeah, course, but it’s more like brother and sister. I’m bored with us, Terri.’

  I started to cry. He tried to get up but stumbled and bashed his leg on the table. He shouted some obscene words and then stood closer to me, his fingers moving through my hair. ‘I’m so sorry, love, but it’s for the best.’

  ‘But I don’t think so. What’ve I done wrong?’

  He turned my face towards his and I so wanted to kiss him. ‘You haven’t done anything. You’re a stunning girl and any man would be glad to have you. We’ve just been together too long, that’s all. We were just kids when we got together. I don’t think I’m cut out for marriage.’

/>   I loved him so much I didn’t care whether we got married or not, so I took hold of his hands. ‘Ok so we don’t get married. We’ll just carry on as we are.’

  ‘No.’ He pulled away and stumbled over to the window, ‘it’s over. It’s all over.’

  I felt my stomach churning. Why did he want to end it? Nine years was such a long time and he wanted to throw it all away just like that. ‘You still haven’t told me why. You were ok last night. Has something happened? Maybe you’ve just got wedding jitters. It’s normal…’

  ‘I haven’t got the jitters.’ He turned his back to me and stood completely still for a moment. ‘I’ve met somebody.’

  I felt like I’d been shot. I wanted to find her and kill her. How dare she take my Mark away from me. ‘Who is she?’

  ‘You don’t know her. I met her at work. She’s my new PA.’

  ‘Oh, that’s just typical. A man sleeping with his slutty secretary. I thought you were better than that!’

  ‘Don’t you see? She’s done you a favour. If it weren’t her it would’ve been somebody else, probably after we’d got married. It’s better this way. You’d better go.’

  I wanted to hug him, just as I always did before leaving, but I thought better of it. I threw my key onto the table, burst into tears and ran out of the flat. How could he do this to me? He wouldn’t get away with it. Nobody breaks Terri Gordon’s heart. Nobody.

  Chapter Three

  Home Sweet Home

  After the horrible day at work I’d had, I was happy to smell Mum’s best-recipe casserole simmering on the stove. She was sitting at the table reading a woman’s magazine. ‘Hi, love. Did you have a good day?’

  ‘It was ok. What about you?’

  ‘Oh, same as usual. Cleaning, cleaning and then some more cleaning.’

  I threw my handbag onto the floor and placed my coat around the back of the chair. She had a hot cup of tea waiting, as usual and I felt warm inside as I sipped it. ‘I thought I’d go and see Claire later if that’s ok.’

  ‘You do what you want, love, you’re twenty-three years old now.’

  ‘I know, but while I’m still under your roof and all that…’

  Mum smiled, ‘I know it’s hard for you right now but look at Catherine, she didn’t meet anyone until she was twenty-nine and she’s settled now.’

  Catherine was my older sister. She’d moved out two years ago and lived a twenty-minute train ride away in a big, posh, converted barn. She’d had problems with her love life too until she’d gone to work at an accountancy firm after she’d passed her financial exams. She’d hooked up with one of the partners and she hasn’t looked back since. He’s quite nice too, Graham. He’s not your usual accountant-type; he wears jeans a lot and does extreme sports. He keeps trying to take Catherine scuba diving but she refuses – not because she’s “Little Miss Sensible” or anything, but because she nearly drowned when we were little. We were at this indoor swimming centre, which had its own wave pool and we thought she was laughing when she got caught in the waves, and so did the lifeguard at first. It was only when her face turned purple that Dad realised she was drowning and went to save her. She hasn’t been in water since. It’s turned into a phobia but she still refuses to do anything about it.

  ‘Do you think I’ll ever meet anyone else, Mum?’ I asked, feeling quite sorry for myself.

  ‘Of course you will. Look at you – you’re gorgeous! Mark’s an idiot. Forget about him.’

  But it was easier said than done. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I’d cried my self to sleep every night since he dumped me and I’d lost half a stone in weight. If it wasn’t for Mum’s tasty casserole I doubt I’d have eaten at all. I was just about managing to maintain my dignity in work, but it was getting increasingly difficult. If Mia wasn’t careful I’d lose it big time; it was getting so hard to control my outbursts of anger and frustration, lately.

  I thought about her too; Mark’s new PA. I pictured her in my mind – a cross between Katie Price and Stacey Solomon – all glamour and fun and everything that I wasn’t. How could he fall for his PA? It was so predictable. There again, at least she wasn’t a doctor or lawyer or anything like that, she had the same job as me so we were even in those stakes at least.

  Mum stood up and started to stir the casserole. ‘Tea’ll be ready soon so if you want to go and shower I’ll dish it out when you’re done.’

  I ambled upstairs and threw myself onto my bed. I was so tired, lately; I barely had any energy to move, let alone shower. I wasn’t sleeping properly, you see, because when I wasn’t tossing and turning or crying I was having nightmares. The only thing that kept me from going to sleep now, though, was the thought of seeing Claire later. She’d been away on business and a month had felt like a year to me. I’d only just split with Mark before she left so I’d had to put up with all the misery by myself. If any of you have ever broken up with someone after nine years, you’d know how horrible it’s been putting up with it without a best mate to talk to. I hoped she would agree that my plan to get back with Mark was the right one; she was a good friend.

  ***

  I enjoyed visiting Claire. I’d first met her at University. I’d decided to attend the local University to save money on living expenses and to stay close to Mark; but, being braver than me, she’d travelled all the way from London. She moved into a basement flat two streets away and she’s still there now, five years later. She got the job I’d wanted, marketing executive for a fashion magazine in Manchester. I didn’t apply for it, though, because I knew Claire was applying. It was too far away too. I wanted to stay local so I settled for the PA position ten-minutes walk away. It would have been okay if it wasn’t such a boring industry – furniture manufacturing. I spent most of my days trying to make beds and coffee tables look exciting. It was in a marketing department, though, and I hoped to work my way up to marketing assistant before the end of the year.

  I’ve always felt nervous around Claire, though. One of her many job perks was that she got to keep samples from various fashion houses and sometimes I felt frumpy compared to her. Tonight was no exception. She answered the door wearing some silk palazzo pants and a tight-fitting halter neck top. Her long dark hair was tied back in a ponytail so that her diamante hoop earrings were visible. ‘Hi, babes,’ she said, before kissing me on the cheek – another habit she’d picked up since mixing with all those fashionistas. I followed her into her living room, which was a mess, as usual. I moved some newspapers and empty plates from her suede settee and sat down. I noticed some new stains on the cushions, too. I found it hard to believe that somebody as pretty and well groomed as Claire could have such a messy flat. She bent down and grabbed two dusty glasses from the side of her chair. She opened the wine bottle she’d left on the coffee table and started to pour. ‘So? How’ve you been, babes?’ she asked.

  ‘You know - same as usual.’

  ‘It’s been a month since you guys split. You need to move on now, don’t you think?’ She took a sip from her glass, leaving a huge red lipstick ring around it.

  ‘I try but I can’t stop thinking about him. I need to see him. I need to see what she’s like too. It’s like an obsession or something.’

  ‘Listen to me…you know how I’ve just started that meditation class? Well they tell you that you need to let things go if you want to have inner calm.’

  ‘Well let them have their inner calm if they want. The only way I’ll get inner calm is if I can get to see her…’

  ‘I don’t know what you want to see her for.’ She stood up and smoothed her pants, which were getting creased.

  ‘I don’t know why either. I suppose I just want to see what she’s got that I don’t.’

  Claire tutted and shook her head.

  ‘What’s up with you?’ I asked.

  ‘It doesn’t matter what she’s like. He chose her. There’s nothing wrong with you – it’s just one of those things.’

  ‘I just think that if I see her, get to
know her somehow, so I can be more like her, then I can find out how to get him to want me back.’

  Claire stood up and made her way to the door leading into the kitchen. ‘I can’t listen to this. Do you want a bag of crisps?’

  ‘Go on then.’ I could never say no to a bag of crisps, especially if they were Cheese and Onion flavour. We both shoved crisps into our mouths, while Claire flicked the channels on the television, finally settling on a music channel.

  Claire finally caved and spoke first. ‘What do you mean, you want him back? How can you after what he did.’

  ‘I love him, though. You don’t know what that’s like.’

  She rolled her eyes, ‘Yeah, well I don’t need a man. I can look after myself. I don’t want a man throwing his dirty underpants around my flat.’

  I wanted to tell her that it wouldn’t make any difference if he did, her flat was that chaotic, but I thought better of it. ‘Yeah, well I don’t need a man either. I just want Mark.’

  Obviously lost for words, Claire continued to stare at Shakira’s wriggling hips on the television. ‘I suppose you’re going to say that Mark wouldn’t have left you if you looked like that,’ she said pointing to the screen.

  Claire could be quite nasty at times. I sometimes thought I only stayed friends with her because I had no other friends. ‘I wasn’t going to say that at all,’ I replied.

  She shrugged her shoulders. ‘All I’m saying is that you’re better off without him and it wouldn’t matter if you looked like Shakira or Anne Widdecombe because he doesn’t want you back. Get over it for your own sake.’

  I realised that Claire was never going to see sense and so I told her I was going home. I’d only been there for a couple of hours but I refused to spend any more time with somebody who wouldn’t understand that I had to get Mark back and that the only way to do it was to become friends with his PA.