by Jules Wake
‘And he loves sushi.’ She sighed. ‘Clever, sophisticated and gorgeous.’
Surely she must have realised the only person he was ever going to be interested in was himself.
‘Knows some really impressive people. Great contacts. I might meet him for a drink or something. You know … purely platonic … because … you know, I am seeing Daniel. Just networking, you know? Did you see the guy in the Hugo Boss suit and that tie? He was at Eton. Something big in property now. A developer, I think. Offices in Kensington.’
‘Emily, he’s an estate agent.’
‘Are you sure?’ Her forehead crumpled.
I nodded. ‘Definitely. He’s a mate of Barney’s. I’ve met him before. Once tried to sell me a broom cupboard in Wimbledon.’
Her face fell in disappointment. ‘Nice suit though. How about you? Going to see anyone again?’
‘Not sure. There was one guy …’ I trailed off. Ned had been quite nice and it had only been three minutes. Could there be more there if I gave him a chance?
‘Which one?’
‘Guy called Ned, he was all right.’
‘Why not give it a whirl? What have you got to lose? It’s time you had a bit of fun. Get you out of the flat. I know you had a disaster with that Mike bloke at uni, but when was the last time you went out with anyone for longer than a month? You really need to start trusting again. You’ll never find the one mooching around at home with Daniel and me all the time.’
As the cab pulled up outside the flat, Emily’s face fell. ‘Shit,’ she said, looking up at her bedroom window.
‘What?’ I asked alarmed.
‘My light’s on. Daniel’s here. I wish you hadn’t given him that key.’
‘I’m sorry but that was before you were going out. Came in handy for someone else to have a key if I locked myself out. I thought you said he was meeting his folks for dinner.’
She shrugged. ‘Yeah, at the Oxo Tower. He said there was a chance he’d come by afterwards if it wasn’t too late.’
She’d changed her tune, she hadn’t mentioned that earlier.
‘I’m surprised he didn’t invite you to meet them?’ And that she wouldn’t jump at the chance for a posh dinner. ‘They’re very laid-back. Lovely, especially Miriam, his stepmum. She’s quite a character.’
Emily shrugged. ‘He did.’ She gave an impish smile. ‘I’m not a meeting-the-parents kind of gal.’
Maybe she was right. Let’s face it, she had more luck with men than me.
‘So,’ I said, fumbling with the handle of the door while shoving a ten pound note at the cab driver.
‘I don’t want him to know where we’ve been. He’s been a bit off …’ She stepped down onto the pavement.
Off what? Off hand. Off as in going off her? I was dying to ask, but there was no way she’d admit a man was losing interest.
‘Where have we been?’ she said, pulling on my arm to slow my progress to the front door. ‘Think.’
‘We’ve been out. For a drink.’
‘Yes, but where?’
‘Café Lulu, perhaps?’
‘We can’t tell him that!’ she hissed in an outraged whisper.
‘Why not? It’s the truth. Just don’t mention the speed-date bit.’
‘What if he knows that they have speed-dating there?’
‘Emily, even if he did, why would he think that we’d been?’
She shrugged, pushing past me as I opened the door.
‘Don’t mind me,’ I muttered, watching her disappear up the stairs as I hung up my coat.
‘Daniel!’ Emily’s excited squeal carried down the stairs. She should have been on the stage.
Just my luck, Daniel was sitting on the sofa, looking completely at home.
‘Hi, Olivia. Been somewhere nice?’
‘Hi—’ I got no further.
Emily busily taking off her coat and dumping it on a nearby chair, interrupted. ‘We’ve been to this fabulous bar tonight. Café Lulu, just off Charlotte Street. Really nice, wasn’t it, Olivia? Absolutely packed. Loads of people. Met Olivia’s cousin there. Barney. Of course you know him? He was with some friends. If I’d known you’d be here by now, you could have joined us. Why didn’t you phone?’ Emily stopped for breath.
Daniel looked bemused by the rapid information download. ‘I did. A couple of times, but it went straight to voicemail.’
I glanced at Emily remembering her switching off her mobile, saying she didn’t want Daniel ringing mid-date.
‘So how was Barney?’ asked Daniel looking at me. ‘Hasn’t he set up some speed-dating business? That’s what Kate told me at Lucy and Piers’s wedding.’
Emily’s mouth opened and shut, her eyes widening with a quick-say-something look.
‘Loathsome as ever.’
‘Are you ever going to let sleeping hamsters lie?’ he teased.
‘Nope.’
‘Surprised you met up with him. What happened to your hate-hate relationship?’
‘Strong as ever,’ I said, shooting a now-look-what-you’ve-done glare at Emily. ‘Sadly, we bumped into him. Tea anyone?’
‘I’d love one, Olivia,’ said Emily.
Daniel frowned at her. ‘Thought it kept you awake.’
Blithely she completely ignored him and muttered, ‘Must take these shoes off,’ before disappearing to her room.
Hoping to escape I headed for the kitchen, only to find Daniel on my heels.
‘You know, Olivia, perhaps you should try one of Barney’s speed-dates.’ The gentleness in his voice made me wish things were different. ‘Get a man of your own.’
A furious blush raced along my cheekbones, I could feel it.
‘No good waiting around, hoping things will change.’
My stomach lurched, that horrible dip-in-the-road-feeling. How embarrassing. I kept my head down. If I looked at him, I might burst into tears. God, how mortifying. He knew how I felt about him. And so typical of him, giving me a gentle warning off.
Suddenly his arm was around me and he was giving me an awkward hug.
‘Olivia, I care about you.’ His fingers brushed the top of my arm and I started at the soft tingle they left. ‘I don’t want to see you hurt.’
I swallowed the lump forming in the back of my throat, breathing in the faint tang of citrus. God, he was lovely even when he was telling me he wasn’t interested. Don’t cry. Think happy thoughts. Smile. Pretend.
I managed a faint smile but tears were threatening to take over. ‘Think I’ll forget the tea,’ I said in a strained voice, and fled to my bedroom.
He frowned as he followed Emily back into her room. There were undercurrents present this evening that he couldn’t keep up with.
‘Sorry about that,’ whispered Emily. ‘We were out with you know who.’ She shut the bedroom door.
‘I guessed as much from the odd atmosphere when the two of you came in. I don’t get it though, she doesn’t seem happy.’ He wasn’t going to ask what the guy was like. Nothing to do with him and why should he care?
‘It’s difficult,’ said Emily, turning away fiddling with the hem of her dress. ‘You staying tonight? Thought you were playing cricket tomorrow.’ He detected the sharpness of her tone.
Cricket was still a sore point. He didn’t want to give it up – he’d played for the club since he was twelve. After a week at work he enjoyed getting out on the pitch, but he could appreciate it was a bit of a drag for Emily. They didn’t usually finish until seven or eight. Even the compromise of playing every other weekend didn’t seem to have placated her.
‘Yeah.’ He grinned and slid his arms around her, getting a noseful of a perfume so strong it almost made his eyes water. ‘But I don’t have to leave until eleven tomorrow.’
She pouted, her eyes
sad and doleful. ‘It’s hardly worth you staying; you might as well go home now. You’d probably rather anyway.’
He immediately felt guilty and doused the temptation to call her bluff. He didn’t want to upset her. Something he seemed quite good at. Despite her outward confidence and bouncy attractiveness, he’d found quite quickly that she was desperately insecure, needing constant reassurance and although her fragility made him want to look after her, sometimes it could be wearing.
He shifted the pile of clothes on the chair, transferring them to the bed and pulled her down onto his lap. ‘Emily, I’m here now. I can stay tonight.’
Chapter Five
At the end of the speed-date we were supposed to pop our scorecards into a special post box at the bottom of the stairs on our way out. Amazingly, despite mine still being screwed up in my coat pocket, I received an email from Ned on Sunday evening. All my foreboding about Barney’s business ethics was borne out. Either that or he’d recruited a psychic speed-dater.
Apparently Ned had got his hands on a second-hand invisibility cloak and wondered if I fancied testing it with a shoe-lifting expedition to liberate a pair of Jimmy Chews. (His spelling.) I was intrigued and after Friday night’s kitchen tête-à-tête, drastic measures were needed to show Daniel I wasn’t pining after him.
Emily was sprawled the length of the sofa half-heartedly watching Antiques Roadshow and flicking through Heat magazine.
‘What are you smiling about?’ she asked lazily, stretching and yawning, already in her pyjamas.
Sunday nights were sacrosanct in the flat – ironing, followed by hair washing in readiness for the onslaught of a week at work. All of which was always rounded off with rubbish Sunday telly and a nice bottle of cold Pinot Grigio or whatever was cheapest in Tesco that week.
‘Barney and his underhand tactics. Have you heard from anyone?’
‘What underhand tactics?’
‘I … didn’t actually hand my scorecard in.’ I pulled a rueful face. ‘Chickened out. At the last minute. Didn’t put it in the slot.’
‘Olivia. You are hopeless!’ Emily tutted.
‘Didn’t make much difference. Barney’s still passed my details on. I’ve got an email. Have you had any?’
‘What?’ Her left eyelid flickered before she said quickly, ‘No, of course not. What do you think it’s worth?’ She pointed to the screen and a very ugly painting. ‘They’re getting all excited. Bet it’s less than two hundred pounds. Wonder how they know? Do you think they make it up sometimes?’
The minx. Her sudden absorption in Antiques Roadshow didn’t fool me.
I hadn’t seen or spoken properly to Kate since the speed-date and when she phoned on Monday morning with her glib claim that she was in London that afternoon and could meet me after work for a drink, she didn’t fool me. She wanted gory details, I knew her too well. She and Barney were close so he was bound to have filled her in. In fact, she may have even put him up to giving Ned my email address.
I was still wondering, as I walked to the hip bar she’d chosen, whether I should go out with Ned. His email had made me laugh. I’d have to come up with an equally witty reply. I tried out various lines in my head. They were all way too corny.
As soon as I got to Asia de Cuba I spotted Kate perched on a high bar stool around one of those impossibly trendy stainless steel pillars that double as a table or a leaning post. She already had a bottle of wine at the ready with two glasses.
The cross-examination began before I’d even taken my first sip.
‘How did Emily get on?’ asked Kate. ‘Has she had any emails?’
Since when the interest in my flatmate? What about me?
‘No … well, not that she’s admitting.’
‘I bet she has.’ My sister smirked, pausing dramatically and taking a large glug of wine before announcing, ‘She ticked three boxes.’
‘Three?’ I echoed. I stared at her open-mouthed for a second, my glass halting before my lips. ‘And how do you know that?’
She grinned and preened a little.
I shook my head and tutted. ‘Typical Barney. No concept of client confidentiality.’ I paused before asking idly, swirling the wine in my hand. ‘So do you know whose boxes she ticked?’
‘Not so worried about client confidentiality now?’ crowed Kate.
I pulled a face at her, wrinkling my nose and wriggling uncomfortably. The bar stools were designed for someone with more flesh on their backside than me. ‘Just spit it out, you old harpy.’
‘Some chap called Anthony. One of Barney’s mates, Charlie, and I can’t remember the name of the other one.’
Three!
‘Blimey. Poor Daniel,’ I said in disgust.
‘Olivia, what planet have you been on for the last few months? Surely you can see what she’s like. I don’t know what Daniel sees in her. He’s way too good for her.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘I always thought—’
I interrupted her. There was no way I wanted her going down that road. ‘Emily’s not that bad.’
‘Olivia. Yes she is. She’s one of those girls who are always on the lookout for their next victim. She’d be out on-the-pull the night before her wedding, just in case. Has she ever not had a boyfriend?’
Kate was being unnecessarily harsh. Although on reflection, in the time I’d been sharing with Emily, she’d always had someone in tow, some overlapping occasionally.
‘No,’ I said trying to be fair. ‘But that’s because of her mother’s disastrous marriages. She’s very insecure.’
‘Huh, she hides it well.’ Kate’s face said it all.
‘You don’t know her that well. Her mum’s had two husbands walk out!’
Kate sniffed with a marked lack of sympathy. ‘What was it Oscar Wilde said? “To lose one, may be regarded as a misfortune, to lose two seems like carelessness.”’
‘Kate, you are so heartless.’ I pretended to be shocked. She grinned at me. Was it my imagination or was she spikier than usual these days?
‘Sorry,’ she said unrepentantly. ‘Tell me about your speed-date. Barney says you made quite an impression on one of the guys.’
‘Did he now? That would be the Barney that blatantly ignored the fact that I didn’t hand in my card.’
Kate grinned.
I had wondered if she hadn’t put him up to it. Now I knew she bloody had.
‘Barney must mean Ned, the guy with ESP, who worked out my email address all by himself,’ I observed dryly. ‘He was quite nice. I’m thinking of meeting him for a shop-lifting session.’
‘Pardon?’ She raised her eyebrows and, giggling, I told her about the email which then led on to a lengthy digression about what shoes we’d steal. Kate was firmly in the Christian Louboutin camp and had seen a pair of the red-soled beauties in Selfridges for a snip at £750. My hankering was for a pair of Jimmy Choos, drop dead gorgeous black courts which even in the outlet village were still £300. We agreed stealing them was our only option because, as Kate pointed out, how many people can really justify spending the cost of a small holiday on a pair of shoes, no matter how lovely?
It wasn’t until we’d downed a whole bottle of white wine and a couple of caesar salads that Kate steered the conversation back to Ned.
‘So, Olivia, are you going to meet this guy?’
I shrugged. ‘I might meet him for a drink … but that’s all. So don’t get excited and start telling Mum or anyone.’
She looked at me over the rim of her glass. ‘You should go for it. It’s well past time you started seeing people properly again.’
‘Why?’ I held her gaze.
‘To prove you’re over Mike.’
‘I am,’ I said indignantly.
Mike! Give me a break. I hadn’t thought about him in years even though he had done the dirty thoroug
hly. She was dipping her toes in the wrong ocean. Mike, love of my life in my university days, had been well and truly eclipsed by someone else.
‘Olivia!’ she said crossly.
I pointedly avoided meeting her eyes. If she said another word I would start humming. Childish, I know, but I hated talking about Mike. Not because it still hurt, but because it was totally embarrassing. How could I have been so stupid?
In exasperation she slammed her glass down, the dregs of her drink splashing over my hand that was busily shredding a beer mat.
‘For God’s sake. You’re so stubborn. Don’t pretend. It still bothers you.’
‘I have to go,’ I said coolly, gathering up my mobile phone and purse, shoving them into my handbag. ‘Early start tomorrow. A meeting in Derby. I need to leave early. I’ll call.’ After Daniel’s words the other night I was still feeling a bit raw. I couldn’t handle a heart-to-heart session with Kate just now.
‘That is so typical. Just bury your head in the sand. You need to talk about it. You’re in denial,’ she snapped.
‘Denial, schmial … you’re not a bloody psychologist. There’s nothing to talk about. You, Mum and Auntie Bren are the ones with the hang-up. Having a boyfriend who drives a Porsche and gets a massive bonus every year, is not a marker of success,’ I said, having a little dig at Kate. ‘It doesn’t mean you’ve made it.’
With that I pulled on my jacket, swung my legs off the stool and left to her parting shot that I was a stubborn pain in the proverbial.
As I stomped down Long Acre heading for Leicester Square tube I felt pissed off. Thinking about Mike always left me feeling churned up. He’d made such a fool of me.
No one was going to do that to me again and, by the same token, I couldn’t do it to anyone else. Trust. Honesty. They made up my moral compass, but Mike had sent everything West.
Striding down the platform I glared at every man whose eye I happened to catch. When the train pulled in, I threw myself into a seat and brooded on the past.
In my second year at University I’d been swept off my feet, quite literally, by the Brad Pitt of the campus. Mike was the kind of guy that everyone went ‘phwoar’ about, even though none of us had ever spoken to him. He could have had serious halitosis or a major speech impediment for all we knew.