Cheradine- Lost and found

Chapter 5

They return laden with bags from Prada, Chanel and Versace – a little spending spree all paid for by one Mr Ashley Cole. Before she’d fled to the airport, Cheryl had had the good sense to swipe Ashley’s American Express card. They’d shared a secret laugh at his expense while they handed the card over at Chanel but now Nadine feels vaguely like an accomplice in what will inevitably lead to mud-slinging and recriminations further down the line.

She’d half-heartedly tried to dissuade Cheryl but the brunette said it was the least the “cheatin’ *Bar Steward*” could do, to pay for her post-divorce wardrobe.

Now, slumped on the couch, Cheryl seems deflated. “Could we stay in tonight? I don’t fancy goin’ out for dinner.”

“Sure, sweetheart,” Nadine replies, briefly touching Cheryl’s arm. “I’ll rustle us up somethin’ to eat.”

Cheryl smiles her thanks, but it’s a dull, tired smile.

So Nadine busies herself in the kitchen, making a simple pasta dish with basil pesto and roasted vegetables. At one point Cheryl comes through to offer help but Nadine shoos her off to sit by the pool.

An hour later and they’re sitting out on the veranda, enjoying the balmy evening. There's a bottle of red between them, a Zinfandel from Sonoma Country that’s one of Nadine’s favourites, and Nadine pours them a glass each. As an afterthought she nips back to the kitchen and finds a tea light and her lighter, carrying both outside.

Cheryl watches her quietly as she lights the wick after a couple of failed attempts.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were tryin’ to impress us,” Cheryl remarks, a slight smirk on her lips. She takes a forkful of pasta and her eyes widen in appreciation as she swallows. “This is really good.”

“I am quite a good cook, you know,” Nadine says, preening a little bit.

The way Cheryl’s staring now, like she’s really looking at her, makes Nadine shift in her seat. She drops her gaze, concentrates on her plate, and tries not to blush. “I remember when you were a shy, quiet teenager from Derry,” Cheryl says and her voice is wistful, almost. “And now you’re this confident, successful woman.”

Embarrassed, Nadine tries to deflect with humour. “I remember when you were a chav. Now you’re a bloody style icon in Vogue.”

It works, because Cheryl laughs. She lifts her wine glass to Nadine in a toast. “Here’s to us and growin’ up then.”

Nadine lifts her glass to meet Cheryl’s. “To us,” she says, hoping the tremble isn’t evident in her voice.

**

The following day Nadine feels a bit worse for wear.

She’d ended up polishing off most of a second bottle of wine to herself at dinner. She isn’t much of drinker normally (Sarah and Nic consume more than enough for the rest of them combined to compensate) but she’d needed something to take the edge off her nerves last night. Now in the harsh light of day she’s paying the price for it as she lies by the pool, bloodshot eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses.

The shades also give her the opportunity to surreptitiously watch Cheryl as the brunette does lengths of the pool. Nadine watches her splash around for a good five minutes before she realises that what’s she doing, perving on her friend, is a bit creepy and she should probably stop.

She’s about to turn over to lie on her front when Cheryl swims up to the edge of the pool and rests her chin on crossed arms.

“You feelin’ alright, babe?”

“A bit fragile,” Nadine admits ruefully as she reaches for a nearby bottle of water and takes a small sip.

“It’s not like you to go heavy on the booze.”

“I know. Must be the influence of absent friends.”

“Sarah’s sworn off the drink, you know.”

Nadine makes a noise mid-way between a snort and a laugh and immediately regrets it because it sets her head throbbing. “You’re kiddin’.”

“No, honestly. She’s on some detox regime.”

“Are you sure hell hasn’t frozen over?”

“I give it a week, tops,” Cheryl grins. “Want me to get you some painkillers or anythin’?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” Nadine says with a grimace. “I just need to remain horizontal for the next five years.”

It’s then that Cheryl pulls herself up out of the pool, water sluicing off her in waves, tanned skin glistening in the morning sun and Nadine feels her mouth go dry. Well, drier, if that’s possible; her mouth already feels like a desert, like something furry died on her tongue.

“Here, scoot over,” Cheryl says, padding barefoot over to the sun lounger Nadine’s reclining on. “I’ll give you a back rub. Always used to work as a hangover cure for Ash-“ Abruptly Cheryl stops herself short, a pained look flitting across her features before she sits down on the space Nadine’s created for her. “Trust us, it’ll make you feel better.”

For the span of about two seconds Nadine thinks about protesting but in her weakened state she doesn’t have the mental capacity to think up a good excuse. So she leans up on one elbow, turns, and flops inelegantly onto her front.

When she feels the first press of Cheryl’s cool hands on her shoulders, Nadine has to bite her cheek to suppress a sigh of contentment. Small, surprisingly strong fingers work at the knots of tension, firmly kneading the notches of Nadine’s spine then moving in steady circles over her shoulder blades and lower back.

As Cheryl massages her, Nadine’s limbs begin to loosen and after a few minutes of this attention she almost feels like she’s floating on air. It’s such a calming, blissful sensation that she almost doesn’t notice the clasp of her bikini top being undone and the flimsy material being pushed off her skin.

Eventually Nadine’s brain catches up with her nerve endings and she tenses suddenly. “What are you doin’?” She hopes it doesn’t sound as shrill and panicky to Cheryl as it does to her own ears.

“Your top’s in the way,” Cheryl says, as if it’s perfectly obvious, and Nadine can almost hear the smirk in her voice when she continues, “You haven’t got anythin’ I haven’t seen before, babe.”

Long minutes elapse and Nadine thinks, if she asks me to turn over, I will literally die. It never happens though because, well, real life isn’t a porn movie.

Even so she can’t quite bring herself to relax under Cheryl’s touch and if the Geordie notices, she doesn’t say anything.

“How’s that?” Cheryl asks after a few minutes.

Nadine’s throat feels thick and tight. She squeezes her eyes shut, as if she can force her voice to remain steady and calm by sheer willpower. “Mmm, good,” she says, aiming for nonchalant, only it comes out sounding treacherously husky.

“Well, I have been told I’ve got magic fingers.”

And that really doesn’t help because now Nadine’s mind is going to a place it really shouldn’t.

It’s the combination of that particular train of thought and Cheryl’s hands skimming the waistband of Nadine’s bikini bottoms that finally causes Nadine to crack.

She scrambles off the lounger, covering her boobs with one arm, and feigns sudden illness. “I’m feelin’ a bit sick. I – I need to lie down. Thanks though,” she mumbles, ignoring the startled expression on Cheryl’s face, and flees towards the house.