Forfeit (Original Edit)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The next day, reality hit me hard. The clothes Xander hadn't taken were scattered around the bedroom and the bathroom still contained half of Clinique men's department. I liberally sprinkled one of his jumpers with Bulgari, inhaling the familiar scent and tears tumbled out. This had to stop. I was being tragic, an absolutely tragic mess. For most of my adult life, I'd never shed a tear over a man but in the past twelve months it'd become a dreadful habit. Crying wasn't going to bring Xander back - it only made me self-indulgent and look bloody awful.

Before I talked myself out of it, I pulled on my running gear and plugged in my iPod. I hadn't intended on running for long but I didn't return for an hour - sixty minutes of mind-numbing jogging along the bridleway. I followed this with two bowls of utterly healthy vegetable soup then poured a deserved glass of wine. What next? Pick out bathroom suites or speak to a builder about the Forge? Oh God, Xander wasn't coming back. A more realistic plan was to curl up in a corner and die. Bugger it. With a bottle of Chablis and a fresh pack of cigarettes, I snuggled up in bed with his aftershave drenched jumper.

For four days, this was my life. Run, eat, drink, sleep. I hadn't the energy for anything else. On day five, I jogged into the yard with a surprising amount of spring still in my step but stopped dead when I saw Robbie's Discovery and Clara's Fiesta. This wasn't going to be pretty. With a great deal of reluctance, I walked into the kitchen.

'Daisy, what's going on?' Clara asked, giving me her school teacher glare. She glanced at my feet. 'Jesus, have you been running?'

I nodded and did a few stretches. 'He got me into it before everything went tits up at Christmas.'

'What happened, Daisy?' Robbie asked, lighting one of my cigarettes. 'You didn't call, so I thought it meant you two were back together but I got back from Italy to find the contract signed but he'd gone AWOL again.'

I closed my eyes. He'd come back to Gosthwaite but he didn't come here. 'Did he talk to Vanessa?'

Robbie shook his head. 'What did you do?'

Why was it my fault? I took a bottle of wine out of the fridge and a glass out of the dishwasher.

'Your answer to everything,' Robbie said, his voice dripping with disdain.

I raised my chin as I sloshed the wine in the glass. 'You know me, Robbie, always well stocked with wine and vodka. It's after twelve and there's a crisis so it's wine o'clock, baby.' I lit a cigarette and slumped against the cooker. 'How the hell did this happen to my life? I came to the Lakes for tranquillity, to escape the drama, but here I am, back in the middle of a broken heart.'

'Daisy,' Clara said to Robbie as if I wasn't in the room, 'honestly believes she's really very ordinary but odd things sometimes happen to her. She doesn't realise she's never been ordinary, ever.' She took the wine off me. 'Stop, Daisy. You're using drama to indulge again. Now, what did you do?'

'Why are you both assuming I've done something? I know going clubbing and dancing with Daniel Campbell wasn't ideal but...' I took a long drag on the cigarette. 'I saw Xander a few days ago. He's hiding out at Oak Bank.'

'And?' Clara asked. 'Did you apologise?'

I shook my head.

'Why the hell not?'

'Because he's seeing someone else. Nadia. She's fabulously rich...' I turned to Robbie. 'And bears an uncanny resemblance to your lovely wife.'

Robbie closed his eyes, understanding, and Clara, for once at a loss for wise words or sound advice, put the kettle on. I almost smiled. See, it's not always my fault.