Hard to Love Read online

  Hard to Love

  S M Mala

  Published by S M Mala

  Copyright © S M Mala 2016

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication is to be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any forms or by any means, including photocopying, recording or any other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher/author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  All characters in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to any persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Visit my website: www.smmala.com to see other titles.

  All helpful advice and genuine comments are welcome.

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  ISBN: 978-0-9928364-7-4

  Al Green’s ‘How can you mend a broken heart’© is a message that rings true; because you just want someone to mend it, so you can live and love again.

  Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group

  ‘Mum! Where’s my sports bag?’

  Lottie was searching frantically for it in the downstairs cupboard on Thursday morning. ‘I can’t find it.’

  ‘It’s by the door where you left it last night,’ Mabel replied, seeing that Jess looked bored while waiting for her older sister.

  Never had there been two girls so different.

  Lottie was fifteen and seemed like the younger child. There was something still quite endearingly sweet about her first born.

  Jess aged thirteen was laid back. This kid had been born aged thirty and counting.

  And they were well adjusted considering what the last three and a half years had brought courtesy of their father.

  ‘You’re going to be late, and I need to catch the bus,’ Mabel said lightly, walking up to Jess and stroking her face. She was greeted with a shrug. ‘Did you moisturise?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘Don’t want to look like an oldie before my time.’

  Both the girls were very pretty, but Mabel was biased.

  Lottie was light brown and had long, wavy, dark brown hair. She looked like Mabel and was petite.

  Jess had short hair and resembled her father. Her skin was darker, the same as Mabel, and she was tall and lanky like her dad but had inherited her mother’s curves. It looked like her boobs would be far bigger than Mabel’s when she came of age.

  The child was an unwitting boy magnet.

  ‘I’m going to count to five, and then we’re going,’ sighed Mabel, checking her watch to make sure she didn’t miss the bus.

  There was a small whirlwind of activity from Lottie before she ran out the house. Jess looked at her mother as if her older sibling were crazy.

  ‘Don’t say a word,’ Mabel whispered, holding up her hand. ‘Your sister is highly strung, so let it go.’

  ‘I never said a thing,’ Jess replied, walking out while Mabel locked up.

  As the girls waited, she doubled checked all the windows were shut, then kissed the pair who walked off towards the other bus stop down the end of the road.

  Mabel’s route to work meant she went in the opposite direction.

  She strolled past the new apartments that had sprung up not so far from their house.

  They were built for people who had more money than sense, preferring a balcony to a garden. And a certain type lived there.

  Creative and trendy.

  She would spot them in her local pub, being all loud with groups of friends, aiming to attract attention.

  Mabel thought this was a sign of her getting old, even though she was only forty-one.

  Being young seemed an eternity ago.

  Glancing up at the side of the bus she noticed the advertisement for a film called ‘Her Bleeding Heart’.

  That’s exactly what her heart felt like.

  Standing at the bus stop, she waited to get on. Mabel always sat in the same seat.

  That was the bonus of being at the head stop.

  Then she saw Alex Chambers and avoided eye contact.

  He had joined her company about six months ago and lived in the said mentioned block. Every five weeks he would be standing with a different woman, so Mabel knew he was a player.

  At first she smiled and said ‘hello’ but it was obvious he didn’t want to speak. Occasionally she used to get a grunt in response.

  The final straw was the Christmas party when she tried to start up a conversation.

  He looked at her as if she had the audacity to speak to him, then walked off into the throngs of the trendy crowd.

  It was gutting.

  When he had a big birthday party in January, everyone was invited except her.

  Mabel realised he wasn’t a fan, taking the blatant hint.

  Alex was Head of Creative, full of talent and shit, so Mabel thought. All the creatives in the company thought they were far better and cleverer than anyone else. Unfortunately, the fact that they were simply deluded on this matter, made it more amusing.

  To top it all, Alex was the architectural tall, dark, handsome and moody man, women would swoon for. She noticed he had dark eyes and often looked deep in thought.

  Or he was forever in a sulk.

  Someone like Mabel, who oversaw production costings, was dull and to the darlings of the agency, they put a dampener on things.

  And so Mabel did, especially seeing the ridiculous amount of expenses for taxis and entertaining that were budgeted in.

  She was having none of it.

  Her nickname was ‘Shredder’ due to her ability to decimate the costings given by the account handling and creative teams.

  Also ‘Ice Knickers’ floated about regarding her manner.

  To her internal amusement, the account directors and creatives knew when Mabel was put onto a project or account, it was because costings were being questioned.

  And God, did they hate her.

  Luckily, she didn’t care.

  It was her job, and there was more at risk personally if she didn’t check it out.

  Unbeknown to all the agency, she owned thirty percent of it. This was down to Joanna, her stepmother’s, influence.

  Joanna Haynes was tall, lithe and posh. She had white blonde hair and used to be a model. People would often mistake her for royalty; she would never deny this as her mother was called Lady Ethel. Not much was known about her father. In her late sixties (she would deny her age, usually reducing it by decades because she could), she was a successful entrepreneur and business woman. She was the Chairperson for Wyatt Haynes.

  Mabel’s half-brother, Calum, was five years older, and they shared the same biological mother, as well as the other thirty percent of the agency. When his father died, their mother remarried. Hence, Mabel was born.

  Then their mum died, and Mabel’s father adopted Calum to make sure he was legally part of the family. Her father met Joanna and she became their step-mother when they were both little. She was unable to have children of her own.

  To her, she was their mother. Mabel didn’t know any different.

  Mabel’s dad suddenly died, and Joanna took on the mantel of raising two children who were not her own, at a young age.

  The confusing bit for all and sundry was that they were different.

  Calum Wyatt was tall and muscular, inheriting his Black African Caribbean father’s colouring and looks. He was very handsome. Talented in advertising and marketing, he worked hard in his industry and was now the CEO of Wyatt Haynes.

  His objection to Mabel’s work ethic was she could be a little harsh with expenditure and sometimes, downright mean.

  He
had a point.

  Then there was Mabel Day.

  She took on the pseudo name of Mabel Drake at work. After being teased about being called May Day throughout most of her life.

  Though the idea of keeping her children’s father’s name, Evans, was not palatable.

  The kids were called Day-Evans, but Mabel wanted all other traces of her link to Wes gone.

  Five foot and five inches tall, she resembled her biological mother, a cross of Portuguese and South Indian. Mabel had intense dark brown eyes and straight black hair that hung just past her shoulders.

  Joanna would often moan to her that she looked like a beautiful doll with wind, considering the scowl she often had at work, and socially of late.

  She had suffered enough turmoil to make her want to scowl for the rest of her life.

  And Mabel decided that people weren’t to know all three were related.

  No-one knew Joanna was their step mother, and Mabel didn’t want people to find out she was Calum’s sister.

  Plus, she had resigned to her mother once every six weeks for the past decade, all of which had been ignored. Joanna simply filed them away in her email for amusement purposes.

  Mabel’s last reason the week before was mental issues. Her mother laughed so hard she thought she was going to rip the stitches in her recent chin tuck.

  After allowing an elderly lady onto the bus, Mabel got on and went to her usual seat, taking her Kindle out of her bag to play a game. She glanced up at Alex Chambers walking in, wearing his double breasted expensive wool jacket. Again, he ran up the stairs to the top deck where he would sit.

  Closing her eyes, Mabel couldn’t wait until Friday afternoon.

  Wes would pick up the girls after school, and Mabel would have her fortnightly Friday and Saturday night alone.

  This Friday she was going to get her fortnightly dose of extracurricular exercise.

  Courtesy of Bob Jones.

  ‘You look good.’

  Bob held open the door as she stepped into his flat. ‘Go straight through to the bedroom.’

  ‘Why do you make it sound so awful?’ she sighed, walking to the kitchen counter and putting down a bottle of wine.

  ‘It’s about sex; that’s what you said.’ He grinned stepping closer, removing her jacket and throwing it on a chair. ‘I’m not complaining.’

  ‘As long as you don’t say you’re going to charge.’

  ‘And I know how tight you are when it comes to expenses.’

  Bob Jones had been a previous Head of Creative many years ago, before leaving under a dark cloud.

  He was an attractive man, with smooth ebony skin and his smile could leave you high and dry, and your knickers extremely wet.

  When her marriage broke down, Bob was in there like a shot when she was ready to socialise again. He said it was for support because he had been recently divorced.

  Mabel was no fool.

  She accepted Bob’s invitation for tea and sympathy.

  On the first meeting, no tea was consumed; only each other in his flat.

  There were no strings attached.

  Once a fortnight, twice every session.

  On the days he was called away due to work, she went to the cinema and ate ice cream.

  ‘Are you looking forward to this afternoon?’ he asked, stroking her arm. ‘I’ve been thinking about it all day.’

  ‘Little else,’ she lied.

  Mabel had been thinking about getting the dripping tap fixed in the kitchen.

  ‘And may I say, you look amazing.’

  ‘You’re about to get me on my back, you’d say anything,’ she laughed, kicking off her shoes.

  ‘If only I’d met you before Wes.’

  ‘Then I would have been wife number one, and you would have eventually gone on to two and three,’ Mabel smirked, knowing Bob was a serial divorcee.

  He kissed her on the lips as she grinned.

  ‘You give this impression you’re an ice lady, but I know you’re a nice lady,’ Bob whispered into her ear. ‘And a sexy one.’

  ‘Again, you know you’re going to get a shag, so it’s all sweet nothings with you.’ Mabel let out a sigh. ‘What time do you want me to go?’ Seeing the hesitation in his eyes made her laugh. ‘I take it you’ve got plans for the evening.’

  ‘I’ll cancel if you want.’

  ‘A few hours of rampant sex suits me fine.’

  ‘Hell.’

  Mabel mumbled under her breath when she got off the bus.

  Bob had certainly made sure he kept her entertained for nearly three hours.

  She had lost all sensitivity between her legs and felt some chaffing.

  To be honest, there was nothing to complain about. He was all man.

  Then she thought about Wes. How he wobbled about when he was ill.

  Mabel supported the ungrateful bastard who abused her trust.

  ‘Fucker!’ she mumbled, knowing every time after having sex with Bob, Wes would cross her mind while she vented.

  The busy local pub on the corner was calling her name and she needed a drink. It was nearly nine thirty and that would numb some of the discomfort, enabling her to walk down the road. A couple of pain killers would have been preferable, but less enjoyable.

  Slipping through the side door, she got a large glass of wine and sat in the garden, under the upright heaters. Most people were sensible to sit inside but it was too busy.

  Checking her phone and seeing the texts from Lottie and Jess, all seemed well.

  She smiled when reading Jess’s.

  ‘That child is a spoilt little brat. Tafari told me off for getting upset when it played with MY mobile. The thing is covered in slime, and so is my phone. Love you. x’

  The girls were trying to be accommodating about their father’s new addition to the family.

  Mabel was not.

  The child was conceived through deceit, mostly her husband’s.

  Sipping her wine, she flicked through some messages and the most threatening one was her mother’s request to meet for lunch. Joanna would lecture the shit out of her so Mabel thought it was best to get hammered to face the onslaught.

  She looked up at the clear sky and stars, which made her smile seeing them twinkle so brightly.

  That’s when she caught someone looking at her.

  It was Alex Chambers.

  He glanced away when she made eye contact.

  ‘Heaven forbid you lower your sights and speak to me,’ she said under her breath, seeing he was with a large group.

  She recognised a few from work. Mabel decided to re-seat herself so they didn’t see her. Putting her coat hood up, she looked at her Kindle and started to play another game.

  Someone was sitting a few tables away.

  Her eyes darted up and it was Alex, smoking a cigarette and staring.

  Based on previous experiences, she knew if she smiled he would grimace or turn away.

  Even if she attempted to say something, he might look appalled she had the nerve.

  Instead, she glared back then continued with her game.

  ‘Why are you here?’ she heard him ask, now sitting at her table.

  ‘It’s my local. They like to entertain boring people because we spend more on drinks to be like you,’ Mabel replied, looking back down at the game. ‘Do you find me being here offensive?’

  ‘Like me?’ he asked, half laughing.

  ‘The ‘in crowd’ where I am the ‘out crowd’.’ She frowned. ‘You don’t usually speak to me.’

  Mabel looked up at Alex Chambers and knew why women and men fancied him at work.

  Handsome, self-confident and talented.

  All the things that made Mabel want to vomit.

  The fact he thought he could speak to her when he wanted to, pissed her off.

  ‘Why do you leave early on Friday afternoons?’ he asked, putting out his cigarette. She pushed the ashtray further away, so as not to get a whiff of the smoke. ‘You don’t like smoking?’ />
  ‘No.’

  ‘Neither do I.’

  ‘What’s it got to do with you?’ she asked, wondering how he knew.

  ‘Just making polite conversation.’

  ‘You’ve seen me for nearly six months at the bus stop and work. You never want to speak. In fact, I receive a frown or a growl. I think your assistant’s assistant usually emails me, in the hope I won’t come into your section.’

  Alex was resting his chin in his hand, looking at her.

  She realised he was the sort of person who thought they could psych you out.

  How little did he know what she was like?

  Gone was the weak woman of years gone by; it was replaced with a cautious and stronger version. Her mother called it hard to love.

  ‘Staring is rude. I want to enjoy my drink and cheat at this game.'

  Then he smiled before walking away.

  Finishing her wine, she realised his group were congregating around the door where she needed to exit. Flicking a glance, she could see Alex was surrounded. She kept her head down, walking quickly out.

  Letting out a sigh of relief, Mabel got a shock when her arm was pulled and Alex was standing behind her.

  ‘Every week you disappear for most of the afternoon. Where do you go?’ he asked, looking down at her. Mabel noticed he was six inches taller and had intense dark brown eyes, very much like her own. ‘And I know you leave early most days but Fridays, you leave really early.’

  Realising he was probably quite drunk, she didn’t know how to answer.

  But right then she wasn’t in the mood to get into a conversation and realised she would probably be humiliated at the end of it.

  ‘It’s none of your business, but if you want to know, I get laid or go to the cinema. Film or a fuck and today was a fuck. Right now, I need to go home and sit in a warm bath to soothe my aching, throbbing fanny. It’s in need of a good soak. Obviously, don’t tell anyone as that would completely shatter my ‘Ice Knickers’ and ‘Shredder’ street cred. Have a nice weekend!’

  And she walked off, not bothering to turn around because she knew he would be laughing behind her back, as most of the agency already did.