Page 21 of The Second Chance Supper Club

‘What on earth are you doing here?’ Cath’s mouth gaped open. It was the last person she expected to find on her doorstep.

‘Just thought I’d drop by.’ He sounded so damned casual. ‘Trevor, you live two and a half hours away.’ What the hell?! Out of the blue, and right in the middle of her supper do, her bloody ex had decided to turn up! It was seven-thirty at night. What was going on?

‘Uhm, well, I’m busy. I’ve got friends around. You haven’t even called … to let me know you were coming or anything.’ She was flabbergasted.

‘Yes, sorry. It was all a bit last minute. Impulsive …’

Since when had Trevor been impulsive? Well, certainly not with her, anyhow. But here he was.

‘Well, I suppose you’d better come in … for a minute.

’ What the heck was she meant to do with him now?

She found herself feeling irritable. All those times, early on, when she’d desperately wanted him to turn up to say he was sorry, that he’d got it all wrong.

But not now … not when she had a supper party on the go, and certainly not when her world was just starting to turn around.

He trailed after her to the kitchen like a spectre, looking a bit dishevelled and downtrodden. His normally trimmed dark hair – he’d somehow managed to avoid many greys as yet – lay lank and slightly straggly. ‘Ooh, something smells good,’ he perked up.

It did indeed; the feta, honey and rosemary aromas were drifting from the oven. Oh yes, the arrogant git would be inviting himself for dinner next. Well, that was so not going to happen. He couldn’t just turn up like this.

‘Like I said, I’m busy,’ Cath repeated, ‘I’ve got friends here for supper.’

‘Oh, I was hoping we could chat. Have a bit of a catch-up.’ ‘Oh, finally … when it suits you. You decide to turn up out of the bloody blue, and want a nice cosy chat. Well, now is not convenient.’

‘I’m sorry, Cath, really I am … I just felt I had to come, to see you, explain a few things.’

She turned down the oven with a simmering sigh. She’d give him a few minutes and that was it; he’d evidently driven a long distance. But there was no way she was letting him get too comfy here. If he really wanted to talk things over, it could wait until tomorrow.

And it felt wrong, him stood in her cottage kitchen. This was her little haven. Her new start.

But he was waiting, in beige chinos and a work shirt she recognised, having ironed it dozens of times, sort of hang-dog style. ‘Just a few minutes?’

All of their past and her present stood clashing in that kitchen.

He didn’t deserve any of her bloody time after the way he’d behaved, how he’d let her down.

But, a little voice in her head reminded her, he was the father of her son, after all.

That they’d need to keep in touch for Adam’s sake at least, to be polite and discuss ongoing matters relating to him.

Oh, bugger it, she’d let him have a few minutes, and that was it. And then she’d ‘about turn’ him and shove him back out of her kitchen and her cottage. Hopefully, before Nikki and Will realised that he was even here.

‘Okay, five minutes and that’s it. So, why are you here, Trev?’ Her tone was short.

‘There are some things we need to run over. And well, I thought it might be easier in person. It’s been too long, Cath. I hoped we could stay friends, at least.’

‘Well, it was you who started this whole fucking chain of events.’ Her voice was terse.

She didn’t usually use the ‘f’ word but she couldn’t help herself.

There was so much more that she could say, but Cath really didn’t want to dredge this all up.

‘I can’t do this right now, Trevor. I have company.

I’m in the middle of cooking dinner. And, you should have bloody well let me know you were going to turn up …

at least have had the decency to ask if it was okay?

What the hell were you thinking? Did you imagine I was sat here on my own pining for you? ’

‘No, of course not.’

She could feel her cheeks flushing, anger brewing within.

She was not going to let him take the piss out of her again.

Not now. Not ever. She was going to get the upper hand here and set things straight from the start.

‘And where are you meant to be staying tonight? It certainly isn’t going to be here.

There’s a good pub and a couple of B he was already here now, wasn’t he, infiltrating her new ‘gang’.

They couldn’t really sit there sipping wine and offer him a mere glass of water, though a part of her would very much have liked to … with a little arsenic chaser.

The group sat talking pleasantly enough about village life, and the many differences between this rural location and suburban Leeds, Trevor’s journey up, general chit-chat really, keeping things light and polite, but the relaxed atmosphere had died for poor old Cath.

Andreas’s honey and fig feta bake was dished out. Although it was delicious, Cath couldn’t help feel it lodging in her throat.

A while later, the conversation turned to hobbies, and that’s when Will and Trevor began to get competitive.

‘So, what do you enjoy doing with your time off, Will?’ Trevor asked.

‘Well, obviously cycling.’ He’d just told him about his cycle repair business. ‘I put in a few fifty milers on the weekends, generally.’