As Jonny McIntyre let the backdoor of his local boozer swing behind him he thought he was slamming it shut on the biggest mistake he’d ever made.
What Jonny didn’t know, though, was his mistake was just a chapter in a story that spanned over two decades. He’d later find out it was just a mere bump in the road – a story that was driven by an obsession and a deep desire for revenge.
And he’d found himself entangled in it for what? Lust? To feel wanted again? To be wrapped up in the excitement of something new? 
Right now, he was seeing it for what it was. He'd been weak and stupid and naïve. At first, it had been nothing but a bit of harmless fun. But as feelings started to get in the way, the hole Jonny had found himself in had only gotten deeper and deeper. His white lies had grown like a fungal infection and by the end, they were obvious and ugly, growing as they fed on his acts of deception and greed.
Nine months it had gone on for.
Nine months too long.
But now, at least, it was over. Or, at least, so he hoped.
That was what Jonny was thinking about as he flung himself into his beat-up Vauxhall Corsa wanting to make a quick getaway but found that he’d be forced to wait. Condensation had claimed his windows as though layers of soggy paper had been draped over them. He turned the ignition, fired up the fans and got them working overtime to drive it away.
In the meantime, all he could do was listen to the rain that had swept in. It was heavy now, the type of rain that kept people indoors. The type of rain that came as standard during the miserable British winter.
But like most of this country, Jonny was conflicted about this weather. On one hand, he’d be chief among the moaners if it fucked with his work in the construction yard, yet on the other hand, there was something ironically cosy and warm about it at this time of year, just before Christmas.
Jonny would take pleasure in listening to the rain do its thing from a safe and dry place, zoning out to the pat and tap against a window as he folded into his earliest memories as a child, when his mum would read fairytales to him from the edge of his bed, radiator humming away, while the elements did their thing against his bedside window.
That was a long time ago now – a time when Jonny had no responsibilities, problems, or worries. A time when he couldn’t fuck up… well, not too much anyway. A time when someone else would mop his troubles up for him.
Not like now.
Over the last few months, Jonny had really fucked things up and no one was coming to save him. He needed to fix this himself. He wanted to go about it quicker and was growing impatient as the condensation started to fade.
All he could do in the meantime was wait and reflect.
He thought about how he didn’t deserve Liz, a fact he thought even before all this. She was too good for him. There had been plenty of times he’d wondered what she was doing with him in the first place.
Because I love you, silly. She used to tell him when his insecurities got the better of him, more often than not when he’d had an ale too many.
And yet, Jonny had taken her love for granted. Betrayed it. He'd spend a lifetime trying to make up for it. If Liz could truly allow him. No one would blame her if she couldn’t.
With his windows clear, Jonny scanned the pub’s exterior one last time. Just in case. But as he hoped, the rain was keeping everyone indoors, including her. Everyone except two silhouettes that were huddled together under a canopy, sharing a cigarette by the door he’d let slam shut behind him.
Safe in that knowledge, he pulls away, the lights of his car cutting into the night.
 

***

You wouldn’t be able to tell Christmas was just a matter of weeks away if you swung on to Wayborough Falls.
Aside from the Kings over at number 19 who put in a bit of effort with their external decorations, nobody else bothered. Not like those who live on Fenton Crescent, which was on the same estate as Wayborough Falls but just a little further down the main trunk that was Bishops Drive. You couldn’t miss Fenton Crescent, lit up like a Christmas show and tell every single year. Like something akin to that Christmas film, Deck The Halls, with Danny DeVito and Matthew Broderick.
Instead, Wayborough Falls continued to live a plain existence. It was a far less fancy stretch of road than the name would have you believe, with its one and two-bed houses bunched together shoulder to shoulder, set back off a cracked and scarred pavement and streetlights that barely had enough energy to muster a flicker. Had Wayborough Falls been a person, it would have had a paper bag placed over its head.
Despite that, it was also an affordable street for people to go and live without having to love. For Jonny and Liz, barely out of their teens and trying to find their independence in the world, it was their first step toward adulthood and living together as a couple.
The rent was cheap and the location was pretty solid, handily placed just outside the town centre and a stone’s throw from their family and friends.
It was a basic life, yes, but a basic life they’d built together on their own.
But it was also a basic life Jonny’s actions had put in jeopardy.
As Jonny swung his Corsa onto Wayborough Falls and slipped down into second gear, a new thin layer of condensation started creeping across his view, fighting back against the fans he’d dialled down so he could listen to the Christmas songs on Capital FM. Driving Home For Christmas plays now. Jonny responds by whacking the fans back onto the highest setting, joining the wiper blades that were going as fast as they could to keep up with the ribbons of rain that pounded from the night sky – a combination that drowned out old Chris Rea.
Approaching home, Jonny slowed right down as he searched for a place to park. The street was congested at this time on a Friday night after work, the row of cars lined up bumper to bumper.
There was a spot further up the road past his and Liz’s place that would have to do.
 

***

“Fuck me,” Jonny muttered to himself after slamming the door behind him.
His shoes, the flares of his baggy jeans, and his coat had taken the brunt of the rain. He’d only been out in it for a matter of seconds after leaping from his car, but it had been enough.
He carelessly dumped his rucksack onto the hardwood floor and hung his dripping coat from a makeshift hook he’d stuck up himself. He dropped his keys in a cracked pot on the shoe cupboard.
He hears movement at the top of the stairs.
First, there’s a rustle from the bedroom, then a flick of a light being turned out. Elizabeth Stallard emerges at the top of the stairs, decked in cute nightwear that shows off a distinguished little bump belly. She ties her dressing gown closed over it as she makes her way down to him.
Liz doesn’t look directly at him until she’s at the foot of the stairs. Even then, Jonny can see it’s taking everything she’s got to be able to look into his eyes. Her face is cold and cautious. A picture of broken trust and betrayal.
“It’s done?” She asks firmly but quietly.
Jonny swallows the hard lump in his throat. He doesn’t say anything, just nods a couple of times as he sucks at his top lip.
“Ok.”
Liz pads off towards the kitchen, stopping only to tap the light on in the living room before continuing. The first thing she does is turn the oven dials. Jonny follows her in. She doesn’t acknowledge his presence, just brushes past him to bend down and ferret around in the freezer to find something to put on for dinner.
“Here, let me do that,” Jonny offers with a little too much earnestness.
“No, I’ve got it!” Elizabeth’s words snap at him as she watches him out of the corner of her eye. Jonny backs off. He lets her do her thing.
Liz pulls out a couple of pizzas. She unboxes, unwraps, and sets them on a couple of trays before sliding them onto the top grate. She straightens out, taking a moment to gather herself again.
Then, she heads to the fridge and pulls out a couple of drinks – a can of coke for her, a beer for him. She pops them both open. She leaves Jonny’s beer on the side before taking herself off to the living room.
Without saying a single word.
Jonny won’t follow right away. He’ll give her space, just like she’s asked for. He takes a long swig of his beer. Tonight he would still be sleeping in the box spare bedroom. He’ll be served the cold shoulder. That will be the case for the foreseeable. The Christmas festivities will be put on pause this year. Well, until they put on the forced act they talked about when they visit Elizabeth’s parent’s house on the Day itself.
But Jonny accepts this is how it has to be right now. He wished he could make everything better and take it all back. His saving grace was that Liz hadn’t kicked him to the kerb. He suspects the fact they will be parents in just under four months is a big reason why he isn’t ringing around his mates and crashing on sofas. But he also hoped there was more to it than that, that she was giving him a chance to fix things because she wanted to. Not because she felt trapped by the life-altering change that was on the horizon.
And even if it took a lifetime, Jonny would do his damndest to make this up to her.
He would make this right.
However, little did Jonny realise that what he perceived to be the biggest mistake of his life would later become his second biggest.