A Compromising Position

by Carole Matthews

  We haven’t even had a proper conversation. One brief interchange about the joys of having pesto sauce on your nose is not generally considered the bedrock of a stable relationship. I know nothing about him. What if he is hopelessly in love with Cara? What if I have to find another less fantastic boyfriend and go out with them for coupley dinners, watching as Adam puts his arm protectively around Cara’s shoulders, and pretend to enjoy long, dragging weekends in the country as they walk hand-in-hand down leafy verdant lanes? I shouldn’t have been so flippant about Jonathan Gold’s invitation to dinner. I could be desperate by next week. I could be catapulted onto that horrible singles playground ride of dinner-snog-sex-dump, going round and round until you’re sick to the heart of it all. What if I have to be a bridesmaid at their wedding? Aaargh!

  I need candles. Lots of them. Cara always seems to think that helps. I feel terrible. I know that I should be pleased for my friend. She has found someone truly fabulous and she’s besotted with him. If I was a good friend, I should hope that he is besotted back. But I don’t. And the swirling, sucking whirlpool of emotion is making me feel nauseous. I look at the clock. I’ve got about two hours, I reckon, to get my act together and call on all the powers of the universe to help me pretend that Adam was just a passing fancy and to laugh and joke and be happy for my friend. And disguise the fact that my heart is very quietly breaking.

  Chapter Ninety-Two

  ‘So?’ Adam said, his glance embracing the rustic décor of Luigi’s. ‘It’s nice here, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’ Cara steadied herself with a deep breath that helped to keep the smile on her face. She hadn’t a clue what the place looked like. It could be turquoise with pink gingham spots and have elephants swinging from the ceiling for all she cared. Her vision had gone blurred at the edges and Adam seemed to be speaking out at her from the bottom of a very long tunnel. She knew, just knew, that it was going to be one of those occasions that she’d remember for the rest of her life and yet would be able to recall no detail of it whatsoever. One part of her knew that she should be rejoicing in Adam being here, while the rest of her knew that he was gradually slipping away. And that Emily had something to do with it.

  ‘I come here nearly every week with Josh,’ Adam continued, a forced brightness to his chatter. ‘He likes it here. It makes him feel grown up.’

  ‘That’s lovely,’ Cara said.

  ‘So?’ Adam repeated, nibbling the end of his breadstick nervously.

  ‘You said we had a lot to talk about.’

  ‘Yes,’ Adam said. ‘So I did.’ He snapped his breadstick in half and busied himself brushing crumbs from the table onto the floor.

  Cara’s heart squeezed tightly. ‘Is it about the other night?’ she said.

  ‘Yes,’ Adam said. ‘It’s about that. And other things.’

  The word seemed to have a capital ‘T’.

  ‘It was fun, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Fun. Yes,’ Adam said. ‘Well, fun after the awful bit. The awful bit was pretty bad.’

  Cara leaned forward. ‘Do you think that it was going to the crash scene and all the emotion that made us act recklessly?’

  Adam scratched his stubble. ‘Recklessly. Yes,’ he said. ‘It was a bit reckless, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ Cara said. ‘But nice.’

  ‘Yes,’ Adam echoed. ‘Reckless, but nice.’

  Cara forced herself to smile, while inside she could hear herself shattering like fragile glass. ‘It was nice, but it doesn’t mean I want to go shopping for an engagement ring.’

  Adam started at the word ‘engagement’. ‘No,’ he said. ‘No, of course not.’

  Mrs Luigi delivered two dishes of lasagne – one vegetarian – and a conspiratorial smile at Adam. Was she used to seeing him here with other women? It didn’t seem like it.

  Adam prodded the lasagne with his fork. ‘I didn’t know whether you . . . you know, regretted it.’

  ‘No,’ Cara said. ‘I don’t regret it at all.’ It was the best night of my life, Adam, she wanted to say. But, of course, she didn’t.

  ‘Good.’ He nodded vehemently. ‘I wouldn’t want you to regret it.’

  I would like to repeat it, Cara thought, but again said nothing.

  ‘I don’t think we should do it again, though, do you?’ Adam said.

  ‘No.’

  ‘It’s difficult with us being work colleagues and that, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ Cara said, and forced some lasagne into her mouth.

  ‘I’d like us to be friends,’ Adam continued to burble. ‘Good friends.’

  ‘I’d like that too, Adam,’ Cara said and wondered how she was managing not to put her head on the table and weep.

  ‘This isn’t about you,’ Adam said. ‘If there weren’t other complications, it would be great to have a relationship.’

  ‘Are there any other complications besides the fact that we work together?’ she asked as casually as she could.

  ‘Well . . .’ Adam looked uncertain.

  ‘Is there someone else?’ Cara pressed.

  ‘Well . . .’ Adam said again. He looked as if a dam had burst inside him. ‘There is someone. Well, not really. I don’t know her. Not really.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Well, I’ve met her. Of course, I’ve met her. But only once. Just briefly. I don’t even know who she is or even where she is. But I sort of feel . . .’ Adam swallowed. ‘I feel I owe it to myself to find her.’

  ‘Lucky girl,’ Cara said. Her lasagne had lodged in her throat.

  ‘I don’t know about that,’ Adam said with a laugh. ‘Would you want a madman pursuing you?’

  ‘No.’ Yes, Adam, she thought sadly, I’d very much like a madman pursuing me.

  ‘I’ve only seen her the once,’ Adam said. ‘When I went to the launch of Temptation, remember?’

  ‘Yes.’ How could I forget? ‘And she was there?’

  Adam nodded. ‘The dress that was hanging up in your lounge,’ he said, ‘she was wearing something just like that. A bit like that. Well, probably not like that at all. It’s hard to remember.’

  ‘Yes,’ Cara said. The blood was draining drop by drop from her face and she was glad that she’d taken a lot of trouble with her make-up. It might help to hide it.

  ‘But I remember how I felt,’ Adam said, and Cara noticed that his beautiful eyes had gone all dreamy and distant. ‘It just hit me in a blinding white light.’ He glanced unseeing at Cara. ‘She is The One! bam!’ Adam shook his head wistfully, the memory clearly playing back in his mind. ‘Has that ever happened to you?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Cara said softly. ‘Just the once.’

  ‘It feels fabulous, doesn’t it?’

  She made the muscles of her cheeks do a smile. ‘Yes. Really fabulous.’

  Adam snapped his attention back to her. ‘I’m being rude,’ he said. ‘Going on and on.’

  ‘That’s OK,’ Cara said with a shake of her curls.

  ‘I don’t usually talk like this,’ Adam said. ‘I don’t know what’s come over me.’

  I think it’s known as being in love, Cara said to herself. You’re in love with Emily, Adam. My best friend, Emily. And you don’t even know her. Cara could have fallen on her fork. All the effort she had put into harnessing the universe, cajoling, pleading and plotting with the heavens for Adam to fall in love with her – all for nothing. All Emily had done was prance around a wine bar in a slip of pink chiffon and she’d captured his heart.

  ‘You’ve been a great mate, Cara,’ Adam said, eyes shining.

  Wasn’t that the worst compliment you could ever get from a man? Cara sighed inwardly.

  ‘You’re really easy to talk to.’ His eyes crinkled softly when he smiled and Cara wanted to reach up and trace the lines. ‘I really appreciate it.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ Cara said and nearly choked herself.

  ‘The other thing I wanted to tell you . . .’ Adam was in full flow now. Cara could feel her eyes roll to the back o
f her head. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to hear any more. ‘I’ve got a new job,’ he said. ‘I’m leaving the Hampstead Observer.’

  ‘You’re leaving?’ Cara croaked. ‘When?’

  ‘I’m giving my notice in to Martin tomorrow,’ he said. ‘I wanted you to know first.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Most of this information seemed to be bypassing her brain and hitting her straight in the stomach.

  ‘It’s a tough decision,’ Adam said.

  ‘Of course.’ Cara had to put her fork down. It was way, way too tempting.

  Adam’s brow crumpled with concern. ‘You’re not disappointed?’

  Oh God, Adam, Cara thought, I just want to pull you onto the table and snog you! I want to hurl myself at your feet and tell you how much I adore you. ‘You will be sadly missed,’ she said instead. ‘You’re a valued member of the team.’ She was sure she’d read that in a management handbook somewhere.

  ‘But that’s all?’

  ‘Yes,’ Cara said. ‘I’m sure if you’re moving it’s for a very valid reason.’ Adam had been part of the fixtures and fittings at the paper for as long as she could remember. For as long as anyone could remember. How would she cope there with just Neanderthal Chris for company?

  ‘Laura’s moving to Australia – my ex-wife,’ he explained. ‘She’s going off to find herself, or find someone else, or find that she wants what she’s already got.’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ he said, ‘I never understand women.’

  Oh, Adam, Cara thought, that is patently clear!

  ‘All I know,’ he burbled on, ‘is that she’s leaving Josh with me while she does it.’ He smiled a smile to break all hearts. ‘I get a posh flat with this job and sociable hours.’

  ‘That sounds fantastic.’

  ‘Maybe you could come round to dinner one night,’ Adam said enthusiastically, before adding the devastating words, ‘as friends.’

  ‘Yes,’ Cara said, the void that had opened up inside her giving a hollow ring to her voice.

  Adam was blissfully unaware. ‘I’d like you to meet Josh,’ he said. ‘He’s a great kid. But then all parents think that, don’t they?’

  ‘Yes,’ Cara said.

  ‘Life couldn’t be better,’ Adam said with a broad grin.

  Cara tried to mimic it, but feared she’d end up looking like Wallace saying ‘Wensleydale’.

  ‘Well, it could be better,’ he chuckled. ‘I could find the woman-in-the-wine-bar. That’s what I call her.’

  ‘Oh,’ Cara said. ‘You don’t even know her name, do you?’

  ‘No,’ Adam admitted with a rueful smile.

  But I do, Adam, Cara thought. I do.

  Chapter Ninety-Three

  I’m sitting on the sofa, pretending to watch television, and the minute I hear Cara’s key in the door, I shoot about four feet in the air. (That’s about 1.2 metres, now that we’re all Europeans.)

  As I hear Adam’s car roar away, I realise I’m ridiculously thankful that he’s not coming in to spend the night again. I have vowed to face this ‘situation’ head-on and not run off and join a nunnery as was my first instinct. But all the same, I went and carefully re-applied my make-up and put on some particularly slimming trousers to meet my best friend’s new man. Oh grief, this is all going to be terribly hard work.

  I think the sound of them cavorting while I was trying to sleep would have made my head explode. Perhaps Cara is being thoughtful for once.

  However, when Cara comes into the lounge, her mouth is not cracked open in a wide, gloating grin, it is down-turned and sombre. I must be in for both barrels. Clearly, I’ve ruined her evening.

  Cara flops down on the sofa next to me. ‘Stick the kettle on, Em,’ she says. Which is not quite the salvo I’d expected.

  ‘Did everything go all right?’ I ask tentatively.

  My friend turns to face me and her eyes are over-bright. There are high spots of colour on her pale face. ‘We had a lovely meal,’ she says flatly. ‘Excellent lasagne.’

  ‘Oh, Italian,’ I say, nodding approval. ‘Nice.’

  ‘Yes,’ Cara says.

  ‘Lovely.’ But I suspect it wasn’t.

  ‘Adam takes his son Josh there every week.’

  ‘He has a son?’

  ‘Yes. You get two for the price of one with Adam.’

  ‘Ooo.’ A scary thought, but not unusual these days. I could have coped with that. I am perfectly used to small, scruffy, indiscreet humans – albeit in a professional capacity. Besides, all the good blokes have got ex-wives, children and current girlfriends.

  ‘Yes,’ Cara continues. ‘In the middle of it, he told me he was in love with someone else.’

  ‘Oh. Not lovely then,’ I say.

  ‘No,’ Cara agrees. ‘Not lovely at all.’

  ‘I knew he was a bastard the morning he cut and run after he’d had his wicked way with you.’

  My friend looks like she’s about to weep. Poor Cara! Poor Cara! What am I saying? Poor me!

  ‘I can’t believe this,’ I run my hands over my face in sheer disbelief. ‘You’ve probably worked out by now that Adam is The Hunk from the wine bar.’

  ‘Yes,’ Cara says. ‘I did manage to work it out.’

  ‘All that hocus-pocus stuff we’ve done,’ I say. ‘And all the time we’ve been chasing after the same man!’

  Cara looks at me bleakly. ‘I know.’

  ‘And he has the audacity to be in love with someone else!’

  ‘Yes,’ Cara says. ‘That’s men for you.’

  ‘Too true,’ I agree. This is too dreadful to contemplate. All that time wasted. All those candles. All that flour. All those homeless spiders. All those old pop songs. I punch a cushion miserably. ‘You have to laugh, don’t you?’

  ‘No,’ Cara says.

  ‘No,’ I say with a heavy and expressive sigh, ‘you don’t.’

  ‘So what now?’ Cara says. She is anxiously picking the beads off her best beady bag.

  ‘Well,’ I say, ‘we can either find out who this woman is and put a curse on her. Or we can forget about Adam the Bastard and find ourselves new men.’

  ‘I vote for the new men option,’ Cara says wearily. ‘I think the universe has got it in for me.’

  I agree. Although Cara is being very magnanimous in defeat, I think she’d probably have me singing the Agadoo spell just to spite me.

  ‘Damn,’ I say with a heartfelt tut. ‘So who’s this woman he’s in love with?’

  Cara looks away. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘I bet it’s that woman he was with at Temptation,’ I speculate. Cara swings round and stares at me. ‘That was where I spotted him,’ I say meekly. ‘If you remember.’

  ‘Yes. Yes,’ Cara snaps. ‘What woman? What was she like?’

  ‘Gorgeous,’ I say. ‘Utterly gorgeous. She was trussed up like a Christmas turkey in black Lycra. A designer turkey. Mind you, he didn’t exactly look like he was in love.’ It’s going to be a long time before I forget the way his eyes followed me round the room.

  ‘Well, he is,’ Cara states.

  ‘Bollocks,’ I breathe discontentedly.

  ‘They’re getting married,’ Cara adds.

  ‘Married!’

  ‘So that pretty much puts the tin hat on it.’ She stands up.

  Adam, married? I’ve only just found out what his name is and now I learn he’s already otherwise engaged. This feels like a hammer blow to my heart. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘Me neither,’ Cara mutters.

  ‘Let’s not talk about him any more,’ I say. ‘Let’s pretend he doesn’t exist.’ Easier said than done, I think.

  ‘Good idea,’ my friend says. She looks tired and unhappy and I’m sure that I’m partly to blame.

  ‘Cara . . .’ I sigh. ‘I’m sorry about Adam, but perhaps it’s for the best. I would have found it really hard to see you with him.’

  ‘I’m glad you said that, Emily.’ She concentrates on decimating her handbag. ‘Because that�
��s exactly how I feel.’

  ‘Good,’ I say, and try a watery smile. ‘I wouldn’t ever want anything to come between us. Particularly not a man.’

  ‘Me neither.’ Cara closes her eyes and rests her head back on the sofa. She blinks away a tear. Then she looks at me and gives a tired huff. ‘Have we got any wine?’ she asks.

  ‘No,’ I say, ‘we drank it all.’

  ‘Oh.’ Cara looks disappointed.

  ‘But we’ve got a bottle of vodka in the freezer.’

  My friend casts her handbag carelessly to the corner of the room. ‘Let’s do it,’ she says.

  And I couldn’t agree more.

  Chapter Ninety-Four

  Adam, Cara and Chris sat round a cramped table in the saloon bar of the Jiggery-Pokery. It was packed and smoky.

  Chris held his head in his hands. ‘I can’t believe you’re actually leaving, mate,’ he whined.

  ‘It had to happen sometime,’ Adam said over his Guinness.

  ‘Yeah, but at the end of the week? Martin should have made you work out your notice.’

  ‘I’m just using up all the holiday I haven’t taken.’

  ‘Sad bastard,’ Chris complained. ‘We could have gone to Ibiza for a week.’

  ‘Why didn’t I think of that?’ Adam said.

  Chris puffed and folded his arms across his chest. ‘Who am I going to play cheesy anagrams with now?’

  ‘There’s more to life than cheesy anagrams, Chris.’

  ‘Like what? Moan Sad Jack.’

  ‘Fulfilment,’ Adam said. ‘Ho Hum Cissy Reporter.’

  ‘That is not an anagram of Chris Seymour!’

  ‘Christopher,’ Adam said.

  Chris drew a pen out of his jacket pocket and scribbled on a bar mat. ‘Bollocks,’ he said. ‘You’re right.’ He threw the pen down.

  ‘Don’t you boys ever have grown-up conversations?’ Cara asked.

  ‘No,’ Chris said. ‘We try to avoid them at all costs.’

  ‘It seems to me you do rather well,’ she observed.

  ‘Are you going to miss Adam?’ Chris said with a smirk.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied tartly. ‘You know I am.’ She downed her tomato juice with a shudder. ‘Does anyone want another drink?’