by his reasoning – was kinder than him dumping her. However, there was always the possibility that Kev might cry but say she’d forgive him. In which case Charlie needed an absolute fail-safe reason for Kev to never want to see him again. The only excuse he’d managed to come up with so far was:
Sweetie honey lollipops, I’m gay.
Okay, playing the camp card did make Charlie slightly panicky. It would take some serious acting skills. He’d need to convince Kev that all the time she’d been naked apart from her sexy scarlet stilettos, he’d been privately fantasising about a strapping six-footer wearing nothing but a pair of rugby boots. Hm. He might have to wing it and see what mood she was in. Not long to find out either. He gulped. Ahead loomed The Beagle and Bugle.
Indicating left, Charlie’s car bounced over the ramp into the pub’s private car park. Seconds later he’d reversed the BMW into the shadows of the far corner. The pub’s security light didn’t quite reach over there, rendering the number plate invisible. He wasn’t anticipating encountering anyone he knew in this part of Kent, but it was best to err on the side of caution. Sometimes the world was a small place, as he’d discovered so very recently when Ben had wandered into Kev’s road and spotted Charlie’s boxers flying at full mast off Kev’s curtain rail.
The pub didn’t have a separate reception area. Instead, the main bar doubled as the check-in point for a booking. As Charlie ducked under a low beam, the landlord greeted him.
‘Good evening, sir.’
‘Hi,’ said Charlie, adopting a businesslike tone. ‘You have a room for me and my…’
He trailed off. No way was he saying the “wife” word. Uh-uh.
‘Ah, yes. Here we are,’ said the landlord, tapping a pencil against an A4 book. ‘Mr and Mrs Kev.’
Charlie almost groaned aloud as he recalled his flip remark to Kev about what name to use. He’d stopped at a cash machine en-route. When it came to check-out time, Charlie didn’t want to use his visa card. The last thing he needed was the landlord saying, “Mr Kev? Sorry, Sir, but this visa card belongs to Mr Charles Goodman. Whilst you were tucking into your bacon and eggs, I took the liberty of telephoning the Fraud Squad. They’re sitting over there on table two. But please, do finish your breakfast before they interrogate you.”
‘Here’s your key.’
The landlord handed Charlie a brass fob.
‘I do believe the lovely Mrs Kev is over there’ – he pointed – ‘in our snug.’
‘Thanks,’ said Charlie, pocketing the key and picking up his overnight bag.
Kev was sitting next to a roaring fire. He could hear the cosy crackles and pops from here. She was holding a flute of pale gold bubbles. Champagne was chilling in an ice-bucket on a table beside her. Despite the warmth inside the pub, Kev hadn’t removed her overcoat. She was buttoned and belted in something that made her look like a sexy detective.
Charlie felt a faint surge of hope. Perhaps Kev hadn’t taken off her coat because she wouldn’t be staying? Maybe she’d been sitting there, nursing her drink for the last ten minutes and rehearsing what she would say to him?
“Charlie Bear. I’ve re-read your earlier text and come to two conclusions. Firstly, you’re a bastard. Secondly, you can go to hell. Have this on me.”
And then she’d go berserk, chucking champagne and ice-cubes about. It would cause that old boy shuffling past to slip over. He’d likely crack his head open on that hearth… causing instant death… the landlord would call the police… Kev would be arrested… go to prison for a hundred million years… leaving Charlie free to breathe without hyperventilating and…
‘Charlie,’ Kev yodelled. ‘Over here!’
He took a deep breath and tried to steady himself.
Come on, rally. You can do this. Square your shoulders. She’s just a woman, not a lion about to rip you apart. She might not like the outcome of tonight, but you’ve taken trouble to do the task thoughtfully… to her face… in a pleasant setting… spoiling her – that’s champagne she’s drinking! No doubt she’ll order the most expensive dish on the menu too. Just remember that you’re paying for it, matey – along with the sumptuous four-poster bed waiting upstairs. All this so she can have one last bitter-sweet good-bye to look back upon and cherish.
Pep talk over, Charlie stuck up a hand and waved back.
‘Charlie Bear,’ Kev purred as she stood up to greet