‘Yes,’ I rush out. ‘I’ll come.’
Mason grins and it is the contented grin of a winner. Damn him, he knew I’d cave in. He’s played me very well. I realise that.
‘I could switch your shifts around and we could go this weekend.’
One of the benefits of fraternising with the boss, I guess. ‘So soon?’
‘I don’t want you changing your mind.’
‘OK, then.’ Now my grin matches his. I feel as if I’m doing something really naughty. I know he’s twisted me round his little finger, but at least he’s made an effort to woo me in style. It’s flattering. Head-turning, in fact.
‘I’ll book tomorrow and let you know the details.’
With that he swings out of the restaurant and leaves me there feeling both elated and terrified. I think I might have just joined the jet set.
I look round and see my friend’s eyes locked on me. Oh, bum. I’ve no idea how I’m going to break it to Charlie.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I’m still contemplating this matter later that evening while I’m sitting on the bottom of Wolverton swimming pool with Bob. I snuck out of work, avoiding a conversation with Charlie whereby I’d have to confess that I’d agreed to go on a dirty weekend with Mason to Paris. Do people still even call them dirty weekends? I don’t know. I feel so out of the ways of dating and its associated minefields. Whichever way, Charlie will go bonkers when I tell her.
I know what I said about not doing any more diving lessons, but I felt as if I was being inexorably drawn here by a force outside myself. Ahem. Plus I sort of wanted to see Joe again. I was a bit childish after our last lesson and am feeling guilty. He’s a nice guy and it wouldn’t hurt to be friends with him. He could probably do with a friend right now. Plus, if I am going to finish this course, then I don’t want there to be any friction between us. He’s at the other side of the pool when I arrive helping a big, military-looking guy put his tanks on, so I give a friendly wave in greeting – that’s all it takes, nothing more – and then I get on with the job in hand. Sort of.
Even though my mind is more on Paris than demand valves and whatever, I do quite well with my diving practice. Well, I manage to survive without drowning, which you have to agree is a good thing. Bob is less distracting as an instructor and I find that I do actually listen to what he’s saying rather than just watching his mouth. All round, it makes for a better diving experience. And my heart rate stays normal. Bonus.
‘Coming to the pub?’ Bob asks when he’s helped to haul me out of the shallow end. I’ll never get used to how heavy all this gear is.
‘Yes. That would be great.’ I’m feeling quite uplifted after my session and a nice glass of wine would just put the finishing touch to a good day. ‘I’ll see you down there.’
So we tidy away the gear and I have a long, hot shower which relaxes me even more. I’m in quite a blissed-out state by the time I hit reception and see Joe standing there.
‘Hey,’ he says. ‘I told Bob that I’d wait for you. We can walk to the pub together.’
‘OK.’ I can hardly cut and run now, can I? So we head out into the night and fall into step together.
‘How did the lesson go?’ he asks as we turn into the street.
‘Good. I’m feeling more comfortable with being underwater.’ That might be over-egging it, but I’m maintaining a positive frame of mind.
‘The theory of it all will start to kick in soon. That’s not so thrilling, but essential for safety.’ We walk along for a moment in silence and then he adds, ‘I thought I’d take over from Bob again next week. If you’re OK with that.’ He rushes on, ‘We buddied up quite well and that’s very important when diving.’
Hmm. That has the whiff of bullshit about it. I think I buddy up with Bob quite well, probably better as he’s not so distracting in the loveliness department. What he probably means is that he’d rather do the damsel-in-distress thing rather than deal with someone who’s beefier than he is.
‘Whatever you think is for the best,’ I say sweetly. Though, despite all my resolutions, I can’t deny lessons with Joe hold more attraction than with dear Bob.
Joe holds open the door and we step into the noise of the pub. ‘What can I get you?’
‘A small glass of red, please.’
As we stand at the bar and wait for our drinks, Joe clears his throat before he says, ‘I feel things ended badly after the dive day.’ He hesitates before adding, ‘I said some stupid things in the car. I wasn’t thinking straight.’
‘It really doesn’t matter,’ I say magnanimously. ‘All water under the bridge.’
‘How about I take you out to dinner by way of an apology? I have a rare free weekend. The kids are with Gina from Friday to Sunday. We could go somewhere nice. Your choice.’
What is it with men? They’re like buses. Nothing at all on the horizon and then two come along at once.
‘It sounds lovely and in normal circumstances, I’d be happy to.’ I’m maintaining a friendly air, but I also want him to know that, despite his U-turn, he’s too late for anything more. ‘However, I’m being whisked off to Paris this weekend.’
‘Oh.’ He looks taken aback. As well he might. I’m quite taken aback myself. ‘Paris, eh?’
‘I haven’t been before,’ I confess. ‘Though I’ve heard it’s beautiful.’
‘Well, I can’t possibly compete with that.’
‘It’s just with a friend,’ I add breezily. ‘We’re not in a relationship or anything.’ How very modern do I sound?
‘I hope you have a great time,’ Joe says, but he sounds unenthusiastic. ‘Shall we go and join the others?’
As we move across the pub to where the rest of the dive club are chatting, I feel that was churlish of me and, more than that, I’m weirdly disappointed that I turned down dinner with Joe even though it was absolutely my choice. At least I think it was.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
There’s a beautiful and ancient wood near where I live. Even better, there’s a little café tucked on the edge of it and I meet Charlie there for bacon butties the next morning. The sun is out in force bringing some meagre warmth to the spring day, so we brave it and sit outside on the terrace. They serve tea in mismatched china with decorative silver spoons that have place names on each one.
‘Blackpool,’ Charlie says and shows me the end of her spoon.
‘Brighton.’ I hold up mine.
‘I’ve been to neither place,’ Charlie says.
‘I’ve hardly been anywhere on this planet,’ I complain. Though I will be starting with Paris, very shortly. I keep my eyes averted so that Charlie doesn’t see guilt written large.
We tuck into our butties and, when she’s finished her mouthful, Charlie says, ‘How was diving?’
‘Good.’ I wipe some ketchup from my mouth. ‘I think I’m getting the hang of it now.’
‘And hot stuff instructor?’
‘Also good. I went to the pub afterwards and he asked me out to dinner.’
‘Cool. You said yes?’
‘I said no.’
‘Twit. Why?’
I shrug. ‘It’s complicated.’
‘The kids? The ex-wife?’
I nod. ‘Something like that.’ Then my phone pings, I dig it out of my handbag. It’s a text from Mason. All booked, ma chérie! Will send you the details later. M xx. As I slip my phone away again, I know that I look guilty. I just know it.
Charlie raises an eyebrow in query. ‘Hot stuff?’
‘No. Nothing exciting,’ I lie. ‘More tea?’
I concentrate on my food and we talk about nothing in particular. Charlie doesn’t mention Mason and I think I might have got away with it. When we are full of tea and bacon, I say, ‘Shall we go for a walk in the woods?’
‘Exercise?’ Charlie looks horrified. ‘In the fresh air?’
‘It’s a lovely day.’
She does an exaggerated shudder. ‘But we’re going to be on our feet from lunchti
me until silly o’clock at work serving the great and good of Buckinghamshire. Isn’t that exercise enough?’
‘Come on,’ I urge. ‘It will do us good.’
‘Red wine is good for you,’ Charlie protests.
‘Not in the quantities you drink.’ I stand and button up my coat. ‘You’ll love it when we get going.’
So Charlie hauls herself out of her chair and I link my arm through hers and steer her towards the woods.
‘Shouldn’t we borrow a dog or something?’ she says. ‘We’ll look stupid going for a walk without one.’
I love this place. It’s a little pocket of solitude in the busy city. There’s a pond as you leave the café filled with a mass of tadpoles at this time of the year. By the side of it there’s a brass sculpture of a band made up of frog characters that always makes me smile.
The sun filters through the fresh green leaves, recently uncurled. The ground beneath us is soft and spongy with bark. As we turn along the path, we’re greeted by a carpet of bluebells spread out ahead of us, threading through the trees as far as the eye can see.
‘Nice,’ Charlie says with an appreciative purse of the lips.
I nudge against her. ‘Glad I dragged you in here now?’
‘Yes, it’s been totally brilliant.’ Said in the manner of someone who didn’t think it was brilliant at all. She rubs her hands together. ‘Now can we go back to the café and have celebratory cake?’
I laugh. ‘Of course. You must be quite dizzy with all this fresh air.’ So we take a few snaps of the bluebells with our phones and turn to take a different route back to the café so that I can stretch out the walk for a little bit longer.
‘I know you’re hiding something from me,’ Charlie says conversationally. ‘I just haven’t worked out what yet.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘You do,’ Charlie insists. ‘I’m like Hercule flipping Poirot. I will find out, so you might as well fess up and save me the trouble. I know it’s to do with Shagger. I’ve deduced that much.’
I sigh and don’t turn to look at her as I spill the beans. ‘I’m going to Paris with him,’ I spit out. ‘This weekend.’
‘You muppet,’ she mutters darkly. ‘You right bloody muppet.’
‘He’s nice,’ I say, defensively. ‘We have a laugh when we’re together. Besides, how many men have ever offered to take you to Paris? I was flattered.’
‘I don’t want to rain on your parade, but you’d better put your umbrella up, chummie.’ Charlie fixes me with knowing eyes. ‘There’s no easy way to break this, but this is Shagger’s standard play. He’s already taken about half a dozen of the waitresses to Paris. Research for a new restaurant chain, romantic Paris, it would be so much better with you at my side.’
Yikes. That stings.
‘Yada, yada, yada.’ Charlie frowns at me. ‘I take it you didn’t know that?’
‘No,’ I admit. ‘I didn’t.’
‘That’s how he got his nickname.’
‘Now I feel foolish.’
‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
She says it in a teasing voice, but I know deep down that she really means it. This would be on my own head. We walk along a bit more. ‘Do you think I should cancel?’
‘I’ve no idea, Ruby. That’s up to you. I’m simply trying to tell you what he’s like. You’re too nice for him. I don’t want to see him treat you the way he does most women.’
I let out a wavering breath. ‘I’m not sure that I can back out now. He’s bought the tickets. That was him texting me earlier. It might make things awkward at work.’
‘Another very good reason for not shagging the boss.’
‘Point taken.’ We walk a few more steps. ‘Did he ever ask you to go to Paris?’
‘Of course he did. He asks everyone.’
‘And you said no?’
‘Yeah. I’m not that desperate.’
My friend gets a dark glare for that. ‘Thanks, Charlie.’
She sounds exasperated rather than penitent when she says, ‘You know what I mean. I’m only trying to explain to you what you’re getting in to. Go to Paris, shag him senseless if you want to, but please tell me that you’ll keep him at arm’s length. He’s a player. A charming one, I give you that – but a player, nonetheless. This can only end badly and it won’t be Shagger Soames who comes out worst.’
My heart feels as if it’s dropped to my Converse.
Charlie puts her arm round me. ‘He’s supposed to be very good in the sack, if that’s any consolation.’
‘I think it makes me even more terrified.’
‘I’m sorry if I’ve scared you, Ruby, but I am doing my best to protect you.’
‘From myself?’
Charlie laughs. ‘That too. What you need is a man like Gary Barlow. He’d never let you down.’
She’s probably right. How could I have been so stupid to fall for Mason’s chat-up lines? Am I really that desperate? Will I be the butt of all the jokes at work? Serves me right if I am. It looks as if I’m going to be just another notch on my boss’s bedpost as Charlie warned me. I should have listened to her. So much for me being this sexually liberated femme fatale. Now I feel like a complete twonk.
I turn to her and pout. ‘I need that cake now.’
‘My treat,’ Charlie says, trying to cheer me up. ‘I’m sorry that I’m not deliriously happy for you, but I don’t want us to fall out over it.’
‘We won’t. But you can buy the cake and I want a big bit,’ I inform her. ‘A huge bit. The chocolate one with the sprinkly things on top.’
‘You’re on.’ Charlie looks relieved that I am taking solace in calories.
Frankly, I need something sweet to take away the sour taste that’s suddenly in my mouth.
Chapter Thirty
I’m in Paris, the city of love and lovers, and I can hardly believe it. And I suppose I am with my lover. Of sorts.
I didn’t ring Mason and cancel our trip. Obviously, you can tell that. Also, I will spare you the details of all the soul-searching and agonising that went on over the last couple of days. The amount of times I tapped his number into my phone to tell him that I’d changed my mind, only to then bottle the call. Packing alone had me in a turmoil of anxiety. I’ve got one small wheelie case, but I could have gone the whole Kim Kardashian and taken my entire wardrobe. Google said that Paris is best seen on foot, so I’ve packed comfortable walking shoes as well as heels. We’re only here overnight, so I don’t know how much sightseeing we’ll be able to cram in. I spent hours dyeing my hair and defuzzing myself in all the little important places.
For your own sake, I’ll skip the slightly awkward journey on the Eurostar where Mason was charm personified and I was more shy than my painfully shy teenage self. It felt like my first ever date and I’d rather that was consigned to the dustbin of memories. Three glasses of champagne helped to get over that bit, eventually.
We can’t avoid the fact that I came over all shy because, essentially, I’m going to be spending the entire weekend with a man that I don’t actually know very well. More fool me for agreeing to it. However, I’m here now, with the delights of Paris spread out before me and I should make sure that I enjoy as much as I can. I’ve been all over Google checking out what there is to do.
We take a cab from Gare du Nord to our hotel and I’m so excited to see the city whizzing by the windows. Even the cab smells French and I’m sure any minute now there’ll be the sound of a street accordion playing and an onion seller complete with stripy jumper and beret will cycle by. Squee.
Mason is amused by my enthusiasm, but I don’t care. I want to lap up every minute. This might be a standard thing for someone as well travelled as Mason but for me it’s a Big Adventure!
The hotel is lovely. Small and elegant rather than overwhelmingly grand – perfect for a romantic weekend – and is in a street lined with attractive little cafés and pavement tables. Just as it should be. It would be nice to unpack
and come down here for some lunch. I’m starving after our early start and, after all, our main mission is to try out menus for Mason’s idea of setting up a chain of French-style cafés. I’m hoping that wasn’t simply a ruse as Charlie suggested.
I feel self-conscious as Mason checks in for us and it’s clear from the receptionist’s reaction that he’s a regular visitor. She’s young, pretty and her smile for him is very warm, slightly secretive.
‘Bonjour, Monsieur Soames. So lovely to have you visit us again.’ Her accent is sing-song, sexy.
‘Hello, Valerie.’ Mason beams back at her.
Valerie, eh? First name terms.
‘You have my usual room for me?’
‘But of course.’ She flicks her long, glossy black hair as she hands him the keycard. ‘I hope you have a nice time during your stay.’
‘I’m sure we will,’ Mason answers and again, it sounds loaded.
Huh. I reckon he’s had a little fling there or something.
‘You know her well?’ I ask as he carries our bags across the lobby.
‘I’ve used this hotel for years,’ Mason tells me. ‘Valerie’s been here for a while.’
We cram into the small wrought iron lift and we go up to the room. Mason’s hand caresses my back. Inside, it’s beautiful, the furnishing – all cream and black – chic and understated. Mason tosses our small cases on the bed and then opens the doors onto the balcony. The Eiffel tower is straight ahead of us. This is as French as it gets.
‘Wow.’ I’m impressed. ‘That’s some view.’
‘Paris is one of my favourite cities.’
‘I can’t wait to see it,’ I say. ‘Shall we freshen up a bit and go straight out?’
‘I thought we’d celebrate our arrival first,’ Mason says and then I notice the bottle of champagne chilling on ice standing on the coffee table.
Oh, well. It would be rude not to even though I feel I’ve had enough booze for now and could kill for a cup of tea. With a side order of croque-monsieur and some frites, preferably. My tummy rumbles at the thought. However, I accept the glass that Mason offers me and we move out onto the small balcony. I drink in the atmosphere of Paris below me as I knock back the bubbles. Anything else would seem churlish. Mason’s arm curls round my waist and he eases me closer to him, until I’m leaning along the length of his body.
Million Love Songs Page 11