Forever Fredless Read online

  Forever Fredless

  By Suzy Turner

  Published by Suzanne Turner Publishing 2013

  Amazon edition

  Copyright Suzy Turner 2013

  ISBN 9789899835115

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

  For more information about the author

  and her upcoming books, please visit

  www.suzyturner.com

  www.fictiondreams.com

  www.suzyturner.blogspot.com

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Huge thanks to Jill, Brittany, Mary, Lucy, Sharon, Mindy and Helene for reading and correcting my very first chick lit novel. I was so nervous about what you would think and you all made me truly believe I could do this. I'm hugely grateful to you all. Thank you to my editor, Andrea, for all your hard work. And a very special thanks to all my friends, social networking pals and readers for the constant support you always provide.

  And of course to Michael, my very own soulmate. I am so blessed to have met you when I was just sixteen years old. Thank you for being such a constant support throughout the many years that I've messed about with this book!

  This book is about finding your soulmate and so

  I dedicate this book to the love of my life

  oOo Michael oOo

  CHAPTER ONE

  Standing perfectly still, I watched them dance all around me, arms and legs flailing around like puppets, dressed in high top trainers, faded jeans and oversized, brightly coloured T-shirts. Their parents stood some distance from the dance floor, chatting, drinking and taking photos of their beloved children.

  But I couldn't stand still for long. The moment the next song began, a giggle burst from my lips and I jumped upwards, fists banging an imaginary low ceiling above my head. As the music began to speed up, I began to join in the fun.

  Singing along and dancing to the tones of Right Said Fred's I'm Too Sexy, I felt something gently brush against my back. When I turned around, my breath caught in my throat as butterflies exploded deep within my stomach. The most beautiful boy stared back at me. His eyes were deep blue and his jet black hair just brushed above his slim shoulders, while his high cheekbones were flushed a deep pink.

  In that very second, it was as though all the other kids disappeared. It was just the two of us, standing still, silently staring into each other’s eyes. I felt ever so slightly giddy and light headed; my face blushed every shade of red, but I just couldn’t look away. My body felt as if it would melt into the floor at any moment. Even now, twenty years later, that moment continues to be the most overwhelming experience of my existence.

  Suddenly, life seemed to fast forward once more as my dad appeared out of nowhere. Grabbing my hand, he gently pulled me away from the dance floor.

  'Come on, Petal, it’s time to go. Your mum’s waiting for us outside.'

  As we reached the exit, I yanked my hand away from his and turned to look back, but the boy had vanished. The song had changed and kids were now dancing around to the sounds of Snap's Rhythm Is A Dancer, a favourite song at the time.

  I scanned the crowd to see if he'd found someone else to dance with, but I couldn't see him anywhere. My dad grasped hold of my hand again and tugged me gently.

  'Come on,' he half shouted above the thud of the music.

  Mum stood outside in the drizzle, puffing away on a cigarette.

  'Darling, you were fantastic. My lovely little dancing Kate,' she whispered as she bent down and hugged me and kissed my cheek. I could smell tobacco and alcohol on her breath. She must have had another fight with Dad. Arguments were pretty much the norm in those days, but I tried to block them from memory. I’d rather remember all the fun times we’d had together. Although looking back now; they were pretty few and far between. I should have known at the time what was going to happen. Mind you, I was only twelve. A mature twelve but still, I shouldn’t have had to worry about things like that.

  'You two wait here, I’ll just pop round and fetch the car. Just hold on a minute. I’ll be right back,' Dad said, in a poor attempt to sound cheerful.

  Moments later, the car pulled up beside us and I reluctantly climbed into the back seat. Just as Mum slammed her door, I looked out the window and there he was, standing by the side of our faded red Peugeot, as the engine chugged into motion. He was staring at me with a flower in his hand with such a sad expression on his face. He must have disappeared outdoors to go and pick one for me. Glancing from his eyes down to his hands, I saw that it was a bright yellow daffodil.

  The car began to lurch forward, so I climbed onto my knees, turned around and looked out of the rear window. I could feel my eyes welling up. I pushed my hand against the glass and several tears slid slowly down my face. He held up his hand and casually rubbed his eye, as if he was rubbing away a tear, too. Our eyes locked together, just for a moment, until the car turned the corner, and he was gone. Out of my life.

  If only I’d spoken to him. If only I’d asked Mum and Dad to stay an extra day of the half term holiday. If only I’d got his phone number. I could be with him now. We wouldn’t have lost so many years. So many wasted years. But there were far too many ‘if onlys’. I didn’t speak to him. I didn’t get his phone number. I didn’t ask Mum and Dad to stay an extra day. I had done nothing. I had been with my soul mate for just a brief moment in time. I had to live with the fact that I would never find him again. My Fred. My one and only Fred.

  You’re probably wondering how I know his name.

  The truth is, I don’t. I couldn't go on calling him t'he boy without a name’, so I made it up. After all, we were dancing to Right Said Fred when we first saw each other; it was only appropriate that I should call him Fred.

  Sometimes I wish I’d said something to Mum and Dad about Fred, but I doubt they’d have understood, even though they always used to say that I was much older than my years. When they introduced me to their friends, they’d say, 'this is our daughter Kate, she’s twelve going on twenty'. It always made me feel so grown up.

  But still, I don’t think they’d have taken too kindly to the fact that I'd fallen in love at such a young age. They’d have said it was just a passing phase that I’d grow out of, or something like that. Only I knew I’d never grow out of it. I was in love with Fred and I’d always be in love with Fred. Nothing would change that. Not that it matters. I never told them. I never told anyone. It was best kept to myself.

  I did ask my parents if we could go to that same caravan park in Skegness again. We went a few more times when I was a kid, and I even went on my own once I'd moved out. Always hoping that I might find him.

  But after Dad ran off with Mum’s best friend's daughter, she was never quite the same and she said she just couldn't face that place anymore, because it reminded her of him, I guess.

  I rarely see either of them now. Dad’s too involved with his recent acquisition – a baby daughter, my half-sister, or should I say my fifth half-sister. He loves having babies in the house. He really is quite brilliant with them. The trouble is once they start talking and walking, he doesn’t really know what to do with them. So his answer is to get the wife pregnant again. I feel sorry for Julie. She’s exactly the same age as me. We even went to school together. So she’s twenty-eight years old and already has five daughters.

  They moved to Newcastle when they ran off together – almost nine years ago – and they’ve been there ever since. It’s too much hassle for them to come a
nd visit me in London and I feel a bit uncomfortable staying with them. The atmosphere always feels so tense. I know that Julie loves my dad, but I get the impression that she feels a bit guilty about it all.

  Mum eventually started dating again, but she was never particularly happy until she met the guy she’s with now. He seems to be a really decent, honest guy. Like Dad’s wife, he’s a lot younger than Mum – a year or two older than me. It doesn’t bother me though. His name is Nick and he’s an environmentalist who loves animals and nature. He has to recycle everything and can’t waste a thing.

  Currently they're living in Africa. I've no idea where, exactly. Every now and again I get a postcard just to let me know that they’re alive and well. I’m really proud of her. She gave up everything that she had here – sold the house (she got it in the divorce) and gave much of the money to charity. Now they move from place to place, living off the land, as she puts it. A couple of Nomads, is how best to describe them. It’s pretty cool, actually.

  She sent me a photo a few months ago; she looked so young and full of vitality. I admire her. I could almost imagine doing the same thing with Fred. Although I’d have difficulty giving away all my money. Actually, I don’t think I could do what she does. Thinking about it, no... I couldn’t stand all those creepy crawlies and mosquitoes. But what if Fred was into all that stuff? No, he wouldn’t be. I don’t think he would. He didn’t look the type.

  CHAPTER TWO

  None of my friends knew about Fred, not even my closest, Jo. I’m not quite sure why. Maybe I just never got round to it, maybe I didn’t want to be laughed at or criticised. In the grand scheme of things, I guess it was so trivial. She’d had enough on her plate without worrying about my pathetic love life – or rather pathetic lack of it. Though I’m pretty sure she’d have understood; maybe I should have told her. Perhaps it would have made her realise why all my past relationships failed.

  None of them compared to Fred.

  Julian was my first long-term boyfriend. He was such a sweetheart. Very cuddly and loving, and he had always wanted to hold my hand when we were out in public. I went out with him when I was seventeen, for four months. Everything was going fine until we had sex. We were both virgins at the time – not that that had anything to do with it. It was awful and wonderful at the same time – he was so gentle and it could have been an amazing experience, if I hadn’t made the stupid mistake of calling out Fred’s name in the heat of the moment, that is.

  I tried to pretend I’d said something else, but I couldn’t think of anything that sounded remotely like it, at the time. Naturally, he was rather upset. So much so that he never spoke to me again. I heard from a friend of a friend that he'd been heartbroken. As far as I know, he never did tell anyone what caused us to break up. He must have felt totally humiliated. I would have done too.

  He’s since settled down with a sweet girl who was in our class at school. I’ve seen them together in the street, but I usually turn away and cross the road quickly. I’d rather spare him the embarrassment of having to speak to me.

  I didn’t date anyone for a couple of years after that. It was probably because of the humiliation – and fear that I would give a repeat performance when things got hot and sweaty.

  Throughout my early twenties I had loads of flings – some of the guys were absolutely gorgeous and real sweethearts – but because Fred was always in the back of my mind, I knew I couldn’t lead them on. One of them even proposed. It was awful, because I hadn’t realised he was that serious. Understandably, he was very upset and very confused when I told him that wasn’t what I wanted. I ended our relationship the same night.

  Last December, on my twenty-eighth birthday, I met a guy who was tall and slim, with jet-black hair and piercing deep blue eyes. I almost wet my pants when I first laid eyes on him.

  It was in a club in Lincoln. A few friends and I were staying in the area (I'm sure you can imagine why I chose Lincoln – it being relatively close to Skegness and all) to celebrate my birthday. I glanced across the room and towards the door, when this gorgeous guy walked in. He was wearing a crisp, white long sleeved T-shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans. His wavy, shoulder-length black hair made his blue eyes stand out like sapphires on a bed of lush black velvet. He was with a couple of friends who were pretty cute too, but not my type.

  I could barely take my eyes off him. As he walked up to the bar to get a drink, he turned, gazing around the room until he spotted me. I swear he looked me right in the eyes. It was intense. Ignoring my pals nattering away at our table, I was so completely and utterly mesmerised that I stood up and shook my long dark hair. I was so pleased I’d made an effort that night, wearing my favourite short blue dress. I have to admit, I felt pretty good.

  Walking towards the bar, with my hips swaying from side to side, I looked at him and licked my bottom lip. I could tell he was impressed by what he saw. He looked me up and down and, quite indiscreetly, licked his lips too. I had never felt sexual chemistry like it.

  I wasn’t exactly sure what I had planned to do, or say, but as I approached him, he moved away from the bar and gently placed his hand on the base of my back and gently guided me towards the dance floor.

  It was as if fate were lending a hand at the same time, because the music changed. No longer the loud thud, thud, thud of the usual club music, the DJ worked his magic to allow a slower, raunchier sound to fill the room. It was perfect for the moment. I couldn’t have planned it better if I’d tried.

  We moved in perfect unison, with my body fitting perfectly with his. A good mover, he was certainly not afraid to move his hips in time with the sexy rhythm.

  It was my idea of heaven. I looked deep into his eyes and imagined that I'd finally found him. As we stood there, gently swaying, our eyes fixed on each other’s, he slowly moved in closer until his lips touched mine. A mild electric shock jolted me and I pulled back momentarily before leaning in for more. It was the most intense kiss of my life.

  We were brought back to the present by sounds of our friends screeching in shock behind us. I could just about hear his friends saying things like 'Go for it, my man'. 'Nice one, mate' and strangely, 'This is your last chance'.

  We started laughing but the lust was too strong for us to control, our lips found each other's again and we kissed like I’d never been kissed before. I opened my eyes and he whispered in my ear.

  'Shall we get out of here?'

  I nodded then quickly waltzed over to where my friends were sitting.

  'Look, we're going back to the hotel – Jo, can you crash in Liz and Anna’s room?' I asked as I picked up my full length black coat and handbag.

  They were pretty shocked but nodded as they looked him up and down enviously.

  I smiled gratefully and rushed to the door, where he was waiting after he’d had a quick word with his friends, who also looked a little shocked at the turn of events. Just as I was about to leave, Jo came running over, 'Kate! Kate!' I turned and she shoved something into my hand.

  'Be careful', she winked, 'These are from Liz'.

  When I got outside, I looked in my hand. Condoms. I laughed and discreetly popped them into my handbag. It was then that I noticed it had been snowing. It was freezing but I didn’t care, I barely even felt it because of the chemistry between us. But the way the snow was falling, and leaving a soft white blanket on top of the city, was beautiful. The snow never failed to have that effect on me. I guess it was because I was born in the winter season.

  We were lucky to get a cab really quickly and I reckon we embarrassed the hell out of the poor taxi driver because we couldn’t take our hands off each other.

  Unfortunately though, as we pulled up outside the hotel, it didn’t take long for things to go a bit awry. He suddenly pulled away from me and just held me with an odd look on his face. I couldn’t quite figure out what the expression meant.

  'Is there something wrong?' I breathed.

  'I... I don’t even know your name,' he smiled.


  'If you tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine,' I smiled thinking how wonderful it would be if he were called Fred.

  He grinned cheekily, 'I’m Marc, with a ‘C’. It’s a pleasure to meet you,' he laughed.

  I felt like I was going to explode into a million pieces just by listening to his voice.

  Breathing deeply, I said with a smile, 'The pleasure is all mine, I assure you.'

  The taxi driver drummed his fingers on the dashboard, reminding us where we were, and Marc smiled, before he looked into my eyes, waiting to hear my name. His eyebrows raised inquisitively.

  I would have liked to have told him some totally exotic name like Anastasia, Valentina or Scheherazade but, as I was hoping to see this guy again, I figured telling porkies on the first date was a bit of a no-no, so I said, 'It’s Kate. My name’s Kate'.

  And that’s when it happened. The second I mentioned my name – he bolted upright in complete and utter shock.

  His mouth fell open and that strange expression appeared on his face again.

  He immediately opened the car door, got out and gently pulled me out after him. He looked so unhappy that I felt like I'd done something wrong.

  I just stood motionless as he banged his fists on the top of the taxi and cursed under his breath.

  'Hey!' yelled the driver.

  'Jesus. Your name's Kate? What am I doing? What have I done?'

  I just looked at him, closed my mouth and shrugged my shoulders. They felt heavy.

  Confused and shocked, I began to tremble uncontrollably.

  'Marc? What’s wrong?' I managed to mutter.

  He turned and looked so deep into my eyes that I thought I was going to swallow him up. I could have melted.

  'I’m so sorry, Kate. This shouldn’t have happened. I don’t do things like this, and I'm sure you normally don't either. Please forgive me,' then he leaned forward and kissed me. It wasn’t like the hot frantic kisses of before. It was different. It was like no other kiss I’d ever had. It was soft, gentle and… strangely loving.