Chapter 7
Still, that wasn't Andrew's fault. She didn't blame him for thinking that her becoming Mrs Jack Meadows was the way to never ending happiness for them both - he didn't know about the past and didn't appear to care, he just saw the way that Jack doted on them and never got beyond that.
In some way she hoped he never would. Some stones were most definitely best left unturned.
She was just contemplating going to find her son to try and make her peace with him when there was a knock at the door. She stood up and hastily tried to brush the creases out of her suit, incase it was Samantha, (Rule No 1: NEVER look anything less than perfect in front of the competition.) or (by some miracle) Russell Crowe - a man she'd still happily marry even now he was old and flabby.
In actual fact it was neither.
It was Mickey.
"Can I help you?" she asked, puzzled by his presence, since bosom buddies they most certainly were not.
He pushed his way into her room, "I think we need to talk."
Slightly resentful of his bolshy attitude, and fast coming to the conclusion that it wasn't a friendly chat about old times that he had in mind Debbie instantly made it her prerogative to get him out of the room as soon as possible.
"Mickey, I don't know what this is about, or what you think you're doing here but I can't think of anything we particularly have to say to each other."
She watched as he walked over to the dressing table, picked up the necklace she'd chosen to wear that night and then turned and waved it in her face, "I think we need to talk about this."
Suddenly she realised that the whole situation was so bizarre it was almost funny. Some guy, who she hadn't seen for a very long time, had busted his way into her room and was demanding to have a nice little chat about the contents of her jewellery box.
"Look," she sat down on the bed and adopted the tone of a patient mother patronising a stroppy child, "I was going to wear that tonight, but if you want to as well, you've only got to say - I can wear something else if it means that much to you."
"You sarcastic bitch."
Her joke didn't go down well with Mickey and in seconds the necklace was flying towards her and then landed on her lap. She reached for it protectively and clasped it in her hand.
"Jesus Mickey what is your problem?"
"My problem? I think you're the one with the problem luv."
Confused, and also starting to feel unnerved by Mickey's odd behaviour, Debbie rose and moved to the other side of the room, putting the two beds between them as a physical barrier.
"The only problem I have is the fact you've come into my room, are shouting your mouth off and have taken to throwing my jewellery around. For Christ sake, just tell me why?"
"No." Mickey sat down, and she felt herself relax slightly. At least if he was sitting down he couldn't throw things, like her, for example, around. "You tell me why?" At first that was all he offered her. Then seeing in her eyes that she was clueless as to what he was talking about, he added, "Tell me why you use and abuse the only man who's ever been nice to you, the only person who's ever given you more than the time of day. What's he done to deserve it eh?"
And then the penny dropped as she glanced down at the necklace in her hand - the necklace and locket that had been a present from Jack for her 40th Birthday, and was inscribed with a personal message on the back. She sat down on the bed and looked at Mickey.
"You're talking about Jack." It wasn't that hard to figure out. He was the only man who'd ever been nice to her, apart from her father and he'd kind of messed the whole thing up in the end.
Mickey laughed, "No, I mean Father bloody Christmas. Of course I mean Jack. How can you do it Debbie? I mean you're a cold hearted cow, but surely even you can see there's something wrong with this constant take, take, take routine of yours."
"I give as much to Jack as I get back." She protested and was horrified when it came out as nothing more than a pathetic sounding whine, even more so when Mickey started to laugh,
"You? Give? Don't make me laugh. You don't even know the meaning of the word." He waited for her to argue and when she didn't, he carried on with his tirade regardless, "But where's it going to stop Debbie? He's already bumped you so far up the career ladder you're virtually falling off the top, he treats you like a frigging Princess and as for that Chandler-a-like of yours� could he be wearing any more designer labels?"
It was the comment about Andrew, comparing him to his father that eventually kicked Debbie into action and in seconds a particularly sharp slap landed on Mickey's cheek.
Again, he only laughed, "That's more like it. That's the Debbie we all knew and hated at Sun Hill. I must say it's nice to see her back - the giggling little girlie was a bit too much to stomach."
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