In Her Own Time Page 2

  “Hello, Grets.”

  “Hi, Beth. Ah, I think I’m in labour, there is water everywhere and I can’t get hold of Matt.” Matt was Gretna’s husband, she’d met Matt after my brother was killed in a car accident a few years ago which had left us all devastated for a long time. I will be forever grateful to him, he’d brought back the sparkle in her eyes and the smile on her beautiful face, and now they were married and apparently about to become parents.

  “Okay, sweetheart. I’m on my way. Keep trying Matt and I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

  “Hurry, Beth, I’m freaking out.” Expletives ring out as she grunts through the pain.

  “I’m coming, just breathe, Gretna.”

  We hang up the call as the elevator reaches the ground floor. I dash out in search of a taxi.

  When I finally arrive at Gretna’s house I can see Matt’s car in the driveway and it’s him that opens the door when I knock.

  “Hi, Matt. How’s our girl doing?”

  “Come in. Beth, she’ll be glad to see you. She is doing amazing. I’ve called the hospital and they are expecting us.” His voice pitches, a glimmer of pride sparkling in his eyes mixed with a slight panic.

  I follow Matt into the bedroom where Gretna is using the bed as support through another contraction.

  “Oh, Bethy, you’re here.” She flinches briefly before smiling through the pain.

  “How you doing, sweetheart?” I deposit my bag on the floor near the doorway before stepping forward to rub small circles on her back.

  “Well, I’m ready for this little monster to be out of there.”

  “Okay, well let’s get this show on the road, Toots.”

  We follow Gretna’s carefully orchestrated birth plan, riding to the hospital together, my playing chauffeur to the soon to be parents.

  It’s nearly 11 o’clock before the call comes with baby news. I’d been waiting impatiently at home, binge-watching shows on Netflix, tucked up on the couch with my mobile phone within reaching distance. Gretna and Matt were now new parents of a precious little girl, Ella Violet Gilford. Both mother and daughter were doing fine, Matt had informed me. He was practically bursting with giddy pride.

  I curse the alarm in the morning, an extra hour or two of sleep would have been nice. Who am I kidding? Three or maybe even four hours would have been better. Yawning, I climb out of bed, and as part of my normal routine, I immediately make it. I may hate mornings with a passion greater than life itself but knowing I have an unmade bed, well I would rather have my perfectly manicured nails pulled out one by one than having the crumpled doona laying there playing over and over in my mind all day. Life just runs easier when things are done a certain way in a structured order. Structure and predictable patterns were cornerstones, there was no margin for error, no surprises and no risk of disappointment.

  My routine continues while getting ready to leave for work. I make my breakfast and wash my dishes. I shower and dress, carefully apply my make-up and style my hair, leaving my favourite part of the day until last. I stand in front of my entire shoe collection and try to decide on which pair I am going to wear.

  I can spend more time picking out the right pair of shoes than I do the entire outfit, when my corporate wear consists mostly of grey and black and a pair of high teal heels or canary yellow wedges are my little fuck you to the business world, where I am treated as if I am just a number in their system, sometimes overlooked for purely having a pair of tits.

  By no stretch of the imagination do I love my job, but it is kind of essential and tolerable, my shoe collection isn’t going to grow itself on my hopes and dreams.

  Grabbing my handbag I make my way to Gretna’s car, my plan was to drop it off at the hospital to the new parents along with a gift for Ella after work. I made a mental note to actually purchase said gift during my lunch break.

  Parking the car in the underground car park I make my way to the elevator bank where there is already a small group of people gathering while waiting for the car to arrive.

  When it does, I ride it to the ground floor because tackling the office without another hit of caffeine would be like walking into a war zone without a rifle. Conveniently, the coffee shop I need to equip myself is less than a hundred metres away.

  The only sounds in the car are the tapping on smartphones and the ding when it arrives at the ground floor. I am perched and ready to make my escape as soon as the doors finish opening.

  I place my order with Joe – seriously the barista is Joe, and his café is called Cuppa Joe! Over the time I have been coming here for my coffee we have developed a kind of understanding, he knows how to meet my needs as soon as I walk in the door and calls me his favourite customer, I call him my favourite barista and remain faithful to him.

  “Mornin’ Joe!”

  “Hi, Bethy, how are you this morning, gorgeous?” Joe’s cheer was infectious, he was always a little ray of sunshine even on the gloomiest of days. Bless him.

  “Argh!” I roll my eyes at him, contemplating how the day is going to go, “But, I’m an aunt!” I brighten instantly.

  “Oh my lord, congratulations!”

  “Thanks, Joe, meeting her tonight, her name is Ella.” I beam.

  “I want to see photos! Tomorrow. Okay?”

  “That I can do.” I wink at him as he hands me my cup to go. “‘ave a wonderful day, Joe.”

  “You too, Miss Bethany, my wonderful little powder puff of hostility and sparkle.”

  Blowing him a kiss, I pivot and make my way outside, I beeline for the pedestrian walk that was going to take me across the road and directly in the direction of my building’s foyer. When I say I remain faithful, we have a strict barista/consumer relationship, Joe is as gay as a tutu wearing unicorn at a rainbow festival, but he is the most stable male relationship in my life, other than my father. And I am perfectly okay with that.

  I’m absolutely slammed at work for the first couple of hours, typing up meeting minutes and agendas, taking and making calls, answering emails, scheduling appointments and making coffee for my witch of a boss. Luckily, when the days move like today does, lunch time rolls around quickly. And I’d been looking forward to my shopping expedition all morning.

  I take my time on the walk back to the office, slowing from my usual determined march to a pace that has other lunch-goers weaving around me. The sun feels amazing on my face and creates a sensation of calm which makes me want to delay heading back to my desk as long as possible. On my approach to the office block, I make the split-second decision to cross the road and to treat myself to an iced coffee before making my way back inside.

  I wait my turn in line as the busy lunchtime foot traffic cues the usual line to the door.

  “Hi, Joe, can I get an iced coffee Grande please?”

  I check my emails whilst I wait for my order, scrolling through I put them in order of priority, scanning others and filing them away, until the sound of a name that sounded familiar piques my attention and I look up from my phone.

  “Double espresso for Nash.”

  Nash? I had known a Nash for a seriously brief time a few years ago; he’d made quite the impression back then, his flawless skin tone, the five o’clock shadow on his perfectly chiseled jaw, and his perfectly shaped arse had left lasting impressions. I watch as a tall man in a pin striped suit with broad shoulders approaches to collect the order, his dark hair is cut short and there is something familiar about the way he moves.

  That familiarity is revealed as soon as he turns around; he is definitely the same Nash I knew. Sweet Jesus, he is hotter than I remembered which seems entirely impossible and unfair.

  Just as his eyes find mine I drop my phone, when I bend down to collect it he is already there, picking it up off the floor.

  “Here, I think this is yours?” He hands me the phone with our fingers touching briefly, our eyes meet and I wait for him to recognize me. I wait, and my heart thuds loudly in my ears at the chance interaction. But there is none. No
t a flicker or a fleeting moment of recognition.

  My throat feels closed, I attempt to clear it before forcing the words out. “Thank you.”

  I can see a flash of confusion cross his gorgeous face, and just as Joe calls me for my iced coffee I see the spark, the penny had dropped. “Excuse me.” I ask him and he steps aside as I brush past him, my senses are assaulted by the freshness of his aftershave.

  I turn from collecting my order and Nash is nowhere to be seen.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Nash

  I have no doubt left in my mind that that breathtaking woman was Bethany Spencer. I had been immediately drawn to the girl in the hot pink heels, and as soon as my gaze landed on her face I recognized her immediately. How could I not? That girl had been imprinted in my brain for the past few years; like being on autopilot when doing a tie or driving a car, not a lot of thought goes into it but the knowledge is always just there lingering waiting to be called upon when needed.

  And like a pussy, I ran out of the coffee shop without even so much as a Hi, How are you doing?

  It occurs to me as I cross the road that I may have just conjured her image up due to stress or jetlag. Was it a possibility she was just my imagination playing some kind of a perverted trick on me? Maybe I had transposed Beth’s face on that other Beth’s body? Maybe it wasn’t a coincidence at all. I chuckle to myself, maybe I was going insane.

  The elevator doors are all but closed when I catch a glimpse of her again, am I now being stalked by my own imagination? Gently, shaking my head, I steel my reserve; there was no time to be anything but professional and focused.

  “Hold the door!” She calls out, but I’m too slow to react, again, and the doors are closed whooshing me upward before I even get the chance to press the open door button on the console.

  For the rest of the day, I try to keep my focus on the job I have been employed to do. My current clients firm is trying to break out into a more corporate specialized field and I’m here to provide a neutral perspective before they expose their new position and to help them eliminate their vulnerabilities from the market.

  Our first consultation regarding their risk assessment runs longer than expected, so by the time we wrap up for the day my body is protesting and I can think of nothing better than a shower and an early night.

  I shake hands with Harvey, the practice manager and decline his offer for a couple of scotches at the hotel bar, but make plans to meet at seven in the morning for revision before more scheduled meetings with the board.

  When the elevator car arrives it’s completely empty, a sigh of relief escapes but that sense of relief is short lived when I travel down only three floors before the elevator doors open again. And there she was again, conjured or not, I hadn’t expected to see Beth standing there waiting to step on. She was yet to notice me; instead, she was furiously texting on her phone before it rings. The sound of ‘Big Booty Bitches’ fills and echoes in the car as I bite my lip to contain my own amusement.

  “Hey, mumma. I’m on my way.” She’s now balancing the phone between her ear and shoulder as she searches through her bag. “Yep, how are you feeling?” A pause whilst she is listening, a small nod of her head and then she speaks again. “Put me on speaker, Grets, I want her to know my voice before I get there. Hello bubby, Ella hello. Aunty Beth is on her way, sweetheart and she can’t wait to meet you. See you soon, baby girl.”

  Only once she ends the call does she realise that she’s not alone in the car, startled she drops her phone. Again.

  I bend to retrieve it at the same time as she does, finally, we make eye contact. My memory of her had not done any sort of justice to how intensely blue her eyes were, but the softness or fullness of her lips on the other hand, perfectly accurate.

  “David and Gretna had a baby?” I ask, curiously.

  “No, Gretna did.” She stands and I follow her. “David and Gretna aren’t together.” Her tone is hard and a matter of fact, unfriendly and the conversation for her was forced.

  “Oh, I didn’t realise, I thought they were engaged, well they were the last time we spoke.”

  “It must have been a while since you did then.” I noticed it was more of an observation than a question.

  “Yes, I guess we kind of lost touch a couple of years ago.”

  The car opens on the ground floor, I step out but Beth doesn’t.

  Her brow narrows and judging by the look on her face, she’s clearly annoyed. “I guess dying does that.”

  What the fuck? What did she mean?

  Back in my room, I forego ordering room service, my appetite is pretty much non-existent thanks to the pit that is residing in my stomach after the last exchange with Beth. Removing my laptop from the bag I place it on the desk and power it on.

  Opening a browser I type David’s name into the search engine. The first result brings up a link to David’s Facebook page. I follow the link and his profile picture is still of him and Gretna, confused but curious, I scroll through, scanning the first few posts on his page. Some are of memories of David while others are posts of people telling him they miss him with a few scattered spam shoe ads. I notice that David himself has not been active on the page for a long time.

  Was this what Beth had meant? David was the one who had died. How? When? Questions flooded my mind, spiraling and swimming without any answers.

  Going back to the search engine I go to the second result of the search, it’s a link to an article of a horrific car accident where a local man died; I click and skim the article; driver fatality, sole occupant, cardiac episode, survived by his parents and sister Bethany.

  David had fucking died and I didn’t even know. I run my hands down over my face, letting the reality sink it. I blow out a breath I hadn’t even realised I had been holding. How had I missed this? Looking at the published date of the article, I see it has been a few years since he died.

  Thinking back to that time of my life I was had left Montgomery and Walker and started working abroad for Masters Marketing. I abandon any further search in need of a shower.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Beth

  “Hey, Mumma.” Gretna is feeding Ella when I enter their room. Propped up against the white pillows with Ella nestled into her chest.

  “Hello, Aunty Beth. We’re just about done and then you can have a cuddle.” She greets me.

  “Great, I really need a cute little squishy baby for cuddles today.”

  “You okay?” Her brow creases as her gaze sweeps over me, falling back on my face.

  “Yeah, I’m fine, just had a long day.” I can see from the look on her face that she is not convinced and is trying to get a read on me. I offer her a weak smile to reassure her. I was tired, feeling the after-effects of a day that had kicked my arse.

  Gretna burps and rewraps Ella back up in her blanket before passing her over to me. Gretna was a natural as if she’d been a mother her whole life and not just the last few precious hours.

  “Hello, sweetheart. I’ve been dying to meet you.” I coo as Ella stirs a little before closing her eyes and settles. She is perfection. “Hey, where’s Matt?”

  “He’s gone home for some sleep. He stayed here all night with us, bless him, but his eyes are practically hanging out of his head and I had to force him to leave.”

  I nod, Matt really was one of the good guys. “Hey, Grets, do you remember Nash Gibson?” I ask.

  “Tall, handsome with a set of killer dimples and a pair of eyes you could drown in Nash Gibson? That the one?”

  I laugh. “Clearly, you remember him differently than I do.”

  “Why do you ask?” She tilts her head slightly, as she asks.

  “I ran into him today, in my building at work.”

  “He’s back in town? Why?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “I remember he and David used to spend a fair bit of time together back when they worked together.”

  Ella stirs again, so I pace backward and forward rocking her
gently in my arms. I soothe her, watch as her little squishy face changes before relaxing again.

  “They can’t have been that close, he didn’t know that he had passed away.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, he thought the two of you were still together.”

  “Oh how tragic, he didn’t know we had lost David.” Grenta’s voice softens with misplaced empathy for Nash.

  “He would’ve known had he’d kept in contact.”

  “What is this? What is going on here?” She swirls a hand in my direction, settling with a pointed finger at me.

  “What?”

  “There seems to be a little hostility here. Even after all these years, you still don’t like him, Beth?”

  “I don’t know him, Gretna.” I answer dismissively, trying to ignore the fact that the conversation had prickled the hairs on the back of my neck and caused my heart to accelerate.

  After I leave the hospital, I head home with thoughts of Nash swimming in my mind, for the second time today. I hardly knew him, it was true what I’d said to Gretna, so why was he occupying so many of my thoughts. Maybe because the arsehole is rude, too damn rude to hold the elevator door open, that kind of thing tends to leave a lasting impression.

  I run the bath and add some bubbles. Chastising myself, I decided not to waste any more time thinking of Nash Gibson. I will, however, light some vanilla scented candles, grab a glass of wine, play a little Alicia Keys and have a nice long hot soak in the bath and forget about him.

  I was just beginning to drift off when my phone vibrates against the ceramic edge of the tub, a text message from Gretna.

  Gretna: Beth, you really are okay? I haven’t been able to shake a feeling that something is up since you left.