Waiting for Doggo by Mark Mills

Author:Mark Mills [Mills, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781472218360
Publisher: Headline
Published: 2014-11-20T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

THE INVITATION FROM Edie comes late on Thursday as I’m leaving work to go and meet Fat Trev. (I haven’t told her I’m seeing him because I sense she’s threatened by him, possibly even worried we’ll rekindle our partnership once he’s back on an even keel.)

She has a wedding at the weekend out near Henley, someone she knew when she was growing up, and Douglas is off in Shropshire playing cricket. ‘I know it’s short notice, and you’re probably doing something already.’

‘You want me to be your plus one?’

‘Plus two, although Doggo might have to skip the wedding.’ Her parents can look after him, the plan being that we stay with them on Saturday night. ‘They really want to meet you both.’

‘You’ve told them about Doggo?’

‘Of course,’ she replies. ‘You’re not the only one I share an office with.’

I lie, tell her I’m free at the weekend.

J will be furious with me, but I’m not going to pass up the chance of a weekend in the country with Edie. Besides, J is already furious with me. He blames me for Lily leaving him. It happened a few nights ago – a blazing row about nothing in particular, as is their way, but this time there was no tearful reconciliation. Lily threw her wine glass at the flat-screen TV, packed a bag and took a cab to her sister’s place. She says it’s over – which of course it isn’t – and J is convinced that Clara and I are responsible, that our split was the catalyst. It’s possible. I’ve seen it before, the domino effect: one relationship falls, then others start to tumble, as if some sacred taboo has been broken and all bets are suddenly off. I don’t hold myself to blame, and I don’t suppose J really expects me to. What he wants from me is company on Saturday night.

In its own slightly sick way, it’s an inspired idea. I mean, who in their right mind would pick Heathrow Airport for a wild night out? Answer: a man who travels extensively for work and knows that the hotels serving major airports are jammed with long-haul stewardesses on stopover. ‘Never call them stewardesses, they don’t like that. They’re flight attendants.’ They may be too tired to schlep into central London, but that doesn’t mean they’re not looking to have a good time. ‘Think about it – the parking’s free and the room’s already paid for.’

I laughed, found myself saying yes, and ever since have been searching for an excuse to duck out. I now have it.

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