Ben kicked at a pebble he’d taken a dislike to and watched it bounce a couple of times before settling in a pool of sandy saltwater.
He’d woken this morning still thinking about the party. He hadn’t slept much, but when he had, his dreams had been full of it too: Bridie’s hard words – hard but fair, as his brother had ruthlessly observed – and the kiss that had taken him as much by surprise as it had her. Unable to shift the whirl of thoughts, he’d walked down to the beach in the hope of clearing his head, but the sea air wasn’t really helping. If anything it was making things worse, with the soft splashing of the waves and the scent of spring blossom wafting down from the trees that lined the promenade bringing back last night’s veranda kiss all too clearly.
What had made him do it? He was so used to seeing Bridie bristle and spit like an angry cat in his presence that it had been pleasant, just for once, to find her warm and relaxed, enjoying his company. She’d been sad – sad because of something he’d done – and he’d wanted to comfort her. That was just instinct. But then she’d looked so… God. Ben knew she had a great figure, but seeing her in Lycra had been a revelation. There was a lot more to her than there had been when he’d last had an intimate view of her body, and just as he’d suspected, she’d filled out in all the right places.
That must surely have been it: the reason he’d let himself get carried away. He’d always been physically attracted to Bridie – he’d never denied that, not even to her, although she probably thought it was a piss-take – but she was usually wrapped in a thick cocoon of sarcasm and hostility. She wasn’t like the other girls round here when it came to succumbing to his dubious charms. Finding Ballbreaker Bridie all soft and marshmallowy for once in her life, and in that figure-hugging Catwoman costume too, had been more than any hot-blooded man could be expected to resist.
She hadn’t known it was him; Ben was certain of that now. He’d believed she had, at first. Smiled to himself as he’d heard her lay into him while pretending she had no idea who he was. But when they kissed, and the things she’d told him about that night at school… she couldn’t have known. He was the last man she’d ever knowingly let kiss her.
He felt a twinge of something he couldn’t identify at that thought. It had been nice to kiss Bridie, but it would’ve been even nicer if she’d wanted him to – as Ben Kemp, that is, not Bruce Wayne. He could just imagine her responding in kind, opening his lips with her tongue, caressing his body with her fingertips just like she used to during their hesitant, fumbling teenage make-out sessions, only now with all the confidence of a grown woman… fuck, yes. That would’ve been so much better.
No, the Bridie who’d kissed him with that degree of gentleness, who’d confided her innermost secrets to him, who’d confessed he’d broken her heart, couldn’t possibly have known he was her old sparring partner. Which meant that everything she’d said, all those charges she’d levelled at him… she hadn’t just been trying to get a rise out of him, it was actually what she felt. That was what she thought of him. What everyone thought of him.
He glared at a seagull that had alighted in front of him to peck at a discarded chip wrapper. It took one look at his grim expression and flapped off again.
The biggest shock, when Ben had mulled it over last night in bed, was discovering that he and Bridie weren’t the friends he’d believed them to be. He’d always thought they were mates, more or less. Yes, they spent most of the time they were together trying to push each other’s buttons, but that was just play, wasn’t it? He enjoyed trading quips with Bridie – that teasing back-and-forth, trying to coax a reluctant smile out of her – and he’d always believed she relished trying to outmatch him just as much. But when he’d heard the way Bridie spoke about him when she thought she was talking to someone else… Had that really been her true opinion of him, all this time? That he was a gigolo – a shallow pretty boy with nothing to recommend him but a good game in the bedroom? Ben knew Bridie loved to hate him, but he’d never realised she didn’t respect him.
And not just her either. ‘The women round here’, she’d said. Did Messington girls gossip about him? Compare notes on his technique? Give reviews to their randy girlfriends so they could look him up, like some dodgy call girl ad in an old phone box? Was every woman he’d ever been to bed with laughing at him behind his back?
Strange that the idea should bother him so much. He’d internalised the old double standard, he supposed, when he was young; seen himself as some sort of James Bond figure while he’d easily charmed the town’s female population into his bed. Now that he found himself on the receiving end of the same sorts of sneers as the girls who were seen as ‘easy’ back when he was a teen, he realised that perhaps in these days of greater sexual equality, sleeping around just made him seem a bit of a loser. Christ, he’d be twenty-nine in two months’ time. He was past the age where the jack-the-lad act was sexy rather than pathetic.
It also meant that since school – since the night of the leavers’ ball – he’d been shagging around without even thinking about how it might make Bridie feel to be the one woman he’d rejected. She’d never mentioned that night to him since it happened: not once. He’d honestly thought she must’ve forgotten all about it, although he often found himself thinking of it when he bumped into her.
What did she call him? The man who never said no? That wasn’t fair. He’d had a lot of sex in his time, yes, but he doubted it was nearly as much as Bridie believed he’d been having – his own fault, perhaps, for playing up to his reputation. Still, that must hurt, thinking she was one of the few girls in town he’d spurned. Hurting her had been the last thing he meant to do. He was fond of her, underneath it all. It upset him to realise she hadn’t known even that much.
He could hardly explain what had really happened on leavers’ ball night now though, could he? Quite aside from the humiliation of admitting it – and to Bridie of all people – ten years after the event was a bit late for an apology. Plus then he’d be forced to confess that he was the man she’d confided in last night – and that he’d taken advantage of the situation to get a snog. She already thought the majority of the male species were only out to get laid; him more than most. He didn’t want to give her yet another reason to despise him.
He just needed to keep acting normally, and try to be a bit more sensitive to this lingering resentment Bridie still felt about the way things had ended all those years ago. That shouldn’t be too hard. They only saw each other every once in a while anyway, through their mutual friends or when they ran into each other in town or at the pub. Perhaps they were likely to find themselves in each other’s company a bit more often in the run-up to Cal and Hattie’s wedding in October, but not, he hoped, too regularly.
Ben jumped as his mobile buzzed in his pocket. He took it out and scanned the screen.
Bridie, shit! What was she ringing him for? Did she know? Someone at the party could’ve enlightened her as to who was under the Batman suit – Hattie, Cal or any number of others. Besides, she’d have found out at the unmasking that he wasn’t really the randy Spider-Man she’d mistaken for him.
He screwed his eyes closed as he answered, preparing himself for the tongue-whipping of his life.
‘Bridie, look, about last night—’ he began before she could start berating him.
‘God, Ben, please spare me the gory details,’ she said with a groan. ‘I’m not interested in what you and Meg got up to after the party, all right? At least keep it to yourself if you’re incapable of keeping it in your Spidey-pants.’
Oh. So she didn’t know then. Obviously she hadn’t stuck around for the unmasking, and none of their friends seemed to have filled her in – yet.
‘Right,’ he said, blinking. ‘So, er… why are you calling? Did I do something else to piss you off last night?’
‘Probably, but I haven’t got time to go through a list. I’m ringing about the Sten.’ She paused to listen to the background noise. ‘Where are you anyway?’
> ‘Down by the sea. I went out for a walk. What’s a Sten when it’s at home?’
‘Didn’t Cal tell you? Him and Hat have decided to hold a joint stag and hen do. Girls and boys together.’
Ben groaned. ‘Oh, what? The promise I could arrange Cal’s stag was the whole reason I agreed to this bloody best man business. That’s the only thing about weddings that doesn’t suck.’
‘Yes, well, I’m not happy about it either, but for Hattie’s sake I said I’d grin and bear it. Or bear it anyway. So when do you want to meet?’
‘Meet?’
‘Yes, Ben, meet,’ she said, sounding irritated. ‘I’m the maid of honour, you’re the best man. It’s our job to organise the bloody thing and I want to get it thrashed out sooner rather than later. Ideally in no more than half an hour, the quicker to be free of your company.’
‘So… I’m planning this thing with you, am I?’
‘What do you think I’ve been saying?’ she said impatiently. ‘Has last night’s sex made your brain go gooey or something? You know, you should get that checked out. There’s a good chance it’s syphilis.’
‘Um, right,’ he said, feeling a bit dazed. ‘OK, I guess we can meet. I’ll make a list of suggestions, you do the same, then we can talk it through in the pub this weekend.’
‘Look, are you OK?’ she said, her voice sounding ever so slightly softer, unless he was imagining it. ‘You sound really spaced out. And you haven’t tried to wind me up the whole time we’ve been talking, which has to be a first.’
He managed to rouse himself enough to sound at least a bit like his usual self.
‘Disappointed?’ he asked, smiling.
‘I’d be lying if I said no.’
‘I’m just a bit tired, that’s all. I promise I’ll be back on form when we go on our date.’
‘Do not call it that, Ben: I mean it. And don’t sit too close to me either. The last thing I want getting around is that I was seen out on a date with Ben “The Cock” Kemp.’
Did people call him that? He hoped it was in reference to his reputation with women and not just… well, because they thought he was a bit of a cock.
‘I’ll be as chaste and respectful as a monk,’ he told her solemnly. ‘But a sexy one with a full head of hair.’
‘You’d better. I’ll see you at the Garter, seven o’clock Saturday. Don’t be late.’
Nine
Hattie glanced at her classroom door to make sure none of the students were peeping in at her illicitly using her phone during school hours, then flicked to the wedding make-up tutorial she’d saved to watch in her morning break.
The presenter, Jojo Fitzroy, was one of the top beauty influencers in the world. Her ‘Beauty With Jojo’ YouTube channel subscribers were in the millions. Hattie had never tuned in before, but there was a first time for everything.
‘Now, brides, this is where we really make the most of those cheekbones,’ Jojo said in her trademark husky purr. ‘I’m going to get hate mail from the pros for this, but I’m about to show you some contouring hacks that will have you ready not only for the altar but for the red carpet. So, my queens, grab those beauty blenders and together let’s find our power.’
Currently Jojo looked a bit like she was doing skeleton make-up for Halloween, with highlighting cream around her mouth and cheekbones and dark powder either side of her nose, but Hattie knew that in a moment she’d work her magic and end up looking like a Hollywood star at the Oscars. She was beautiful even without the make-up, as well as exuding an easy, sophisticated glamour that Hattie couldn’t help envying. With her ‘face’ on, as she liked to say, Jojo looked like a supermodel.
Hattie paused the video as a knock sounded at the door. Ursula and Meg were waving to her through the glass and Hattie beckoned for them to come in and join her.
‘Naughty naughty, Miss Leonard,’ Ursula said as she pulled up a chair beside her. ‘You’d better not let Eddie catch you with your phone out. What’re you watching?’
‘Just a Jojo Fitzroy make-up tutorial. She did a new series for brides-to-be in the run-up to her big wedding last month.’
‘You’re thinking make-up already? There’s months to go yet.’
‘I thought I might as well get some practice in.’ Hattie looked glumly at the paused video before turning it face down on the table. ‘Honestly, though, there’s so much to it. I always thought I was going it a bit, just sloshing some foundation and lippy on, but there’re people who won’t leave the house until they’re contoured and highlighted and tweezed and false-eyelashed to within an inch of their life. I don’t know how they have the energy for it every single day.’
‘I’m sure Cal’ll think you look gorgeous whatever you do,’ Meg said. ‘It’s you he fancies, not the face paint.’
‘Yeah.’ Hattie gazed thoughtfully at the phone. ‘I guess so.’
‘No Bridie?’ Ursula asked. It was a tradition that the four of them would congregate for coffee and a gossip in Hattie’s classroom every morning break.
‘She’ll be on her way.’ Hattie lowered her voice. ‘Actually, I’m glad I caught you both before she got here.’
‘Have you been thinking about the plan?’ Ursula whispered.
‘Yes. I was trying to work out where she could overhear us talking without it looking like a total set-up, and I thought, where better than on the D of E trek? We can easily wangle it so we’re having a conversation outside her tent while pretending we don’t know she’s in there. The boys are going to arrange to set Ben up at some point too.’
‘That’s not for a while though. Is it not better to do it sooner?’
‘Well yes, probably, but I can’t think of another setting where we’d be able to get away with it so easily. Anyway, I’ve set the wheels of romance in motion in the meantime.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yep,’ Hattie said, feeling pleased with herself. ‘Me and Cal have decided to hold a joint hen and stag thing. And guess who has to organise that?’
Ursula laughed. ‘Oooh, very devious. I like it, Hat.’
‘Aww,’ Meg said, looking put out. ‘I actually really fancied that girls’ punting weekend.’
‘Well, tough,’ Hattie said. ‘This is in the cause of true love, Meg.’
Ursula nudged her. ‘Plus now Adrian will get an invitation too. I don’t suppose you’ll object to that, will you?’
Meg smiled. ‘I have got a good feeling about him. We’re going out on a proper date this weekend. You’d better keep schtum though, girls: you know how Duxbury is about staff dating.’
‘That’s another thing,’ Hattie said. ‘Meggy, I know this is a big ask, but… I’m not sure how I can explain this, but I kind of need you to pretend you were getting off with Ben on Saturday.’
Meg frowned. ‘You want me to lie? Why?’
‘Well, you don’t need to lie as such – just don’t correct Bride if she asks you about it. Be vague or change the subject or something. She had the idea it was Ben and not Adrian in the Spider-Man costume, and… well, I haven’t quite worked out how all the pieces are going to fit together yet, but my own Spidey-sense is telling me I ought to keep it quiet a bit longer.’
‘How come?’
‘Because at the party, her and Ben—’
‘Her and Ben what?’ a voice at the door asked.
All three of them jumped as Bridie entered the classroom, closing the door behind her.
‘Er, just party gossip,’ Hattie said, smiling feebly. ‘Meg was telling us what a good night she had.’
She shot Meg a pointed look.
‘Oh. Yeah, right,’ Meg said. ‘Well, it’s been a while since I had any of that sort of fun. It was nothing serious really.’
‘When is it ever with that guy?’ Bridie said, joining them at the table. ‘So how was he?’
Meg’s face took on a dreamy expression. ‘He may quite possibly be the best I’ve ever had. And I don’t say that lightly.’
‘Oh God. Don’t tell him that, wha
tever you do. He’s bad enough already.’
‘How was your night, Bride?’ Ursula asked, tactfully changing the subject to save Meg the necessity of telling too blatant a whopper. ‘Good date?’
‘Nope, awful.’ Bridie shrugged. ‘Man-cursed as ever, right? Tell you what, if I’ve got a fairy godmother then she’s one sadistic bitch.’
‘So that’s it then, the last of the twenty dates,’ Meg said. ‘How does eternal singledom feel? I can’t imagine knowing I’d never have another date as long as I lived.’
‘Well, not quite,’ Hattie said, smirking. ‘Bridie’s got a date this weekend actually.’
Bridie shot her a sharp look. ‘I have not got a date, and I’d thank you not to start spreading it around that I have. I’ve got a planning meeting – one I agreed to greatly against my better judgement after my so-called best friend guilt-tripped me into it.’
Ursula laughed. ‘With Ben, right? Hat was just telling us about the stag/hen thing.’
‘Sadly, yes. I hope it won’t be too painful.’ Bridie sipped her coffee thoughtfully. ‘I don’t suppose either of you know who was at the party dressed as Batman, do you?’
Hattie tried to say with her eyebrows everything she was unable to say with her mouth.
‘Batman?’ Meg caught Hattie’s look. ‘Er, no. I didn’t notice any Batman.’
‘Nor me,’ Ursula said.
Bridie shook her head. ‘That’s what everyone’s said. I’m starting to think I dreamed him up.’
‘Why, did you fancy him?’
‘Yep,’ Hattie said. ‘He kissed her on the veranda.’
‘Did he? That was forward of him.’
‘Well, the kiss was mainly fuelled by beer,’ Bridie said. ‘Still, I wish I knew who he was.’ She turned to examine Hattie. ‘Are you all right, love? You look preoccupied by something.’
Love at First Fight Page 8