Million Love Songs

by Carole Matthews

  ‘Ah. That was then. This is now.’

  Mason laughs. ‘God, I’ve missed you, Brown. You and your pithy repartee. Come to the club. Let’s get drunk together.’

  ‘Can’t. I’ve promised Charlie I’ll watch a film at her place.’

  ‘Riveting. You can do that anytime. Bring Charlie too. Dirty Dancing can wait.’

  ‘Not tonight. But thanks for the offer.’

  ‘I want to know what you’ve been doing without me.’

  ‘Nothing.’ I decide to fess up. ‘My social life is a wasteland through which no one wanders.’

  He frowns at me. ‘Then why are you looking so pleased with yourself?’

  ‘I’m not.’ Though I can’t suppress the smile on my lips.

  ‘You look like you’re harbouring a smug little secret.’

  ‘Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not.’ Though I flush as I say it. Mason needs to know nothing about my love life as I need to know nothing about his. Though I do wonder whether he had another little ménage à trois on his travels. I expect so.

  ‘I’m having an official opening for the Vibe Lounge,’ he tells me. ‘Say you’ll come to that.’

  ‘I might. If you ask nicely.’

  ‘I just did.’ He narrows his eyes. ‘There’s something going on with you. I know it. I just don’t know what.’

  Then to deflect attention from myself, I say, ‘Are you going to make yourself useful behind this bar or not?’

  Mason grins at me. ‘I do like a bossy woman, Brown. Never forget that.’

  I roll my eyes at him and grab the waiting tray of drinks before the people on table four die of thirst.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  I chew my fingernails all week. Of course, I do. Every day I expect Joe to call and tell me that he’s having to cancel, that Gina isn’t going to take the kids at the weekend after all, that something else has come up that’s more important than our date. But he doesn’t.

  Saturday arrives and The Big Date is still on. I’ve no idea what to wear. We’re going for a pizza, so the only party dress I own is immediately ruled out but all else is to play for. I rifle through all my clothes. ALL of them. My entire wardrobe is found wanting, so I make an emergency dash to Primarni. I’m flicking ever more frantically through the rails when my phone rings. It’s Charlie.

  ‘Hi, babe.’

  ‘I’m sick,’ Charlie croaks. ‘Really sick. Both ends.’

  TMI.

  ‘I can’t cover your shift tonight, Ruby.’

  ‘Nooooooo,’ I cry down the phone.

  ‘Is that sympathy for my severe illness?’ she asks flatly, ‘or disappointment at having to ditch your hot date?’

  ‘Both,’ I say while I actually think What bloody awful timing.

  ‘I’ve called Jay,’ Charlie says. ‘I think I’m going to be out of it for a couple of days.’

  I’m trying to feel solicitous, but inside I’m screaming. ‘Can I get you anything? I’m at the retail park at the moment.’ Trying to buy something hot for my now non-existent date. ‘Shall I swing by on the way home?’

  ‘No,’ she moans. ‘I’m just going to crawl back into my pit, pull the covers over my head and quietly die. I’m going to listen to Gary, so that if I do in fact die then he’ll be the last thing I hear.’

  ‘Drink lots of fluid,’ I try, helpfully. Though I’ve no idea if that’s really helpful. ‘I’ll call you in the morning. Not too early.’

  ‘Sorry to let you down,’ she says. ‘Gotta go. Bathroom calls again.’ She hangs up.

  I stand in Primarni staring at my phone. Buggerbuggerbugger. What now? I look down and, true fact, I have the most perfect dress in my hand. It says fun, flirty but is chic too. Even better, it’s less than a tenner. I have to have it. And, more than that, I have to go on this date.

  In the car park, new dress in my bag, I sit in my car, a mass of seething indecision. What’s more important: work or my love life? Then I make my mind up. What I’m about to do isn’t pretty. Please don’t judge me.

  I call Jay. ‘I can’t come in tonight, Jay,’ I say, putting on a croaky voice much the same as Charlie’s. It’s a voice that says I have vomited too many times and may not have much longer on this mortal plane. ‘I’m really sorry.’

  ‘We’re desperate, Ruby,’ Jay says sounding like a man broken. ‘Charlie’s phoned in sick too.’

  ‘Has she?’ I feign innocence. ‘Must be a bug going round. Hope it’s not something we picked up in the kitchen.’ That will give him something bigger to think about. ‘I’ve got to go, Jay.’

  ‘OK. OK.’

  I hang up. Blimey. What did I just do? I must really like this guy to lie to my boss so that I can see him. I’ve never done that before. I’m usually the most steadfast and reliable employee. I hate to hear Jay sound so harried, but they’ll cope. It’s not the first time it’s happened, though it’s not usually me and Charlie who are off sick. We are normally the stalwarts.

  I drive home feeling more guilty than Mrs Guilty from Guiltytown. On my next shift I’ll work triple hard to make up for it. I’ll give all my tips to charity for a month. Well, maybe a week. Call it psychosomatic but I even begin to feel slightly nauseous.

  Still, I put my duplicity to the back of my mind, have a long, luxurious bath, shave all the important little places, moisturise until I’m like an oil slick and wash my hair, lashing in the coconut conditioner so that I’ll smell like an extra-tasty tropical cocktail.

  I’m just about finishing my make-up when my doorbell rings and my heart jumps to my mouth. It’s only six o’clock. I like a punctual man but surely he can’t be this early. I check my watch to make sure that it hasn’t stopped. While I’m basking in indecision, the bell rings again – with a slightly more impatient tone. As I haven’t time to get dressed, I pull my dressing gown over my undies and head to the door.

  Instantly, I recognise the outline of my visitor through the glass pane and it isn’t Joe. It is, however, Mason Soames.

  Damn.

  ‘Open the door, Brown,’ he says. ‘I come bearing gifts for the sick.’

  Oh, shit. Mason’s the last person on earth that I’d expect to come visiting. I press myself against the wall, hoping that he hasn’t spotted me too.

  I stand and hyperventilate for a bit. What do I do? I can hardly pretend that I’m not here when I’m supposed to be in my sick bed.

  ‘Brown!’ he shouts again. ‘Have you died? Let me in.’

  Eventually, reluctantly, and simply because I have no other choice, I open the door a fraction and peep out. A wave of embarrassment engulfs me. Now I do actually feel hot all over and more than a bit clammy. ‘Hi,’ I croak.

  He looks at me suspiciously. ‘Jay has called in the cavalry tonight,’ he says. ‘Both you and Charlie have gone down with something, so I’ve cancelled my prior arrangements and I’m riding to the rescue. Thought I’d drop in some essentials on the way.’ He holds up a basket covered with cellophane and tied with a ribbon. ‘Flowers, fruit, carton of soup, Immodium.’

  ‘Thank you.’ I try to sound on the verge of death. At this point I really wish I’d gone to stage school. I’m not a natural liar and the words stick in my throat – which, in effect, adds to my act. ‘Very kind. Sorry to let you down.’

  ‘Are you going to keep me standing here, Brown? Or are you going to let me in?’

  ‘Might be infectious,’ I warn. ‘I’m all hot.’

  ‘Are you sure it’s not the menopause?’

  ‘Thanks, Mason.’ A bit too crisp. ‘It’s definitely not the menopause.’ Cheeky sod. ‘I think I caught it from Charlie.’

  He takes a step back, but there’s an expression of concern on his face. ‘I’m worried about you.’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ I assure him. ‘I’ll probably have bounced back by tomorrow. Probably a twenty-four-hour thing.’

  His eyes narrow. ‘I’ll leave the basket here then and be on my way. Wish me luck.’

  If I could, I’d allow mys
elf a smile. Waiting tables is well below Mason’s pay grade.

  ‘Thanks, Mason,’ I say, genuinely grateful even though he’s on a fool’s errand. ‘It’s kind of you to pop by.’ Unexpectedly.

  ‘If you don’t mind me saying, you look more like someone getting ready for a night out rather than someone on their sick bed.’

  ‘Looks can be deceiving,’ I say, voice a hoarse whisper once more.

  ‘Hmm,’ he agrees. I know I’m not sick and he knows I’m not sick. ‘Shall I call in on the way home? Make sure you’re still alive.’

  ‘No, no. No need. Early night,’ I tell him. ‘In bed by nine.’

  ‘Lucky you,’ Mason says. ‘Think of me dealing with the hungry hordes in your stead.’

  ‘Thanks, Mason. I owe you one.’

  ‘You do,’ he says. ‘I’ll be considering ways in which you can redeem yourself.’

  ‘Better go.’ I put my hand to my mouth and do a bit of a bleurgh.

  ‘I’ll see you, Ruby.’

  I close the door and stand with my back to it, sweating. I hear the slam of Mason’s car door and then watch him as he drives away. It was so kind of him to come. If I’d truly been ill, I would have been touched by his thoughtfulness. I hadn’t expected that in the slightest and, when he shows his softer side, I can’t help but like him. It’s easy to convince myself he’s an arrogant, self-centred twat. Then he does something like this. Nevertheless, I’m still hoping he doesn’t feel the need to check up on me later or I’m in deep trouble.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Joe picks me up at seven. I’m quite nervous going out to his car in case Mason is hiding in the bushes waiting to catch me out. This date could very well get me the sack.

  It might be worth it though as I’ve never seen Joe looking more handsome. He’s obviously freshly showered and shaved. His dark curls are still slightly damp and his face is flushed with warmth. We look quite the dandy pair with him in a white shirt and faded jeans and me in my new Primarni frock in pastel shades.

  ‘You look lovely,’ he says and I’m glad that I bought it. A tenner well spent.

  We go for pizza at a small restaurant out of town rather than a busy chain. I’ve not been here before and the atmosphere is great, but we can still hear each other speak rather than having to shout over the noise. It’s also quite useful to be away from the centre of Costa del Keynes where someone from work might spot me. This is how subterfuge makes you think. It must be exhausting to have an affair.

  Once I relax and stop feeling guilty that I’m not actually ill and am out on a date, Joe and I have a great evening and laugh a lot. He’s easy company to be with and not too shabby to look at either.

  He talks a lot about Daisy and Tom, showing me photographs on his phone. He’s obviously a proud dad and why not? It makes me sad to think that this little family have broken up and I wonder what pressures they’ve been under to have brought them to this point. I’d ask, but I don’t want to spend the whole of our evening talking about his ex or bringing him down with talk of his divorce. So we skip over the surface of it and move onto films, music and life in general. He doesn’t drink as he’s driving and I limit myself to a couple of glasses of wine, even though my nerves think they would like a lot more.

  It’s eleven o’clock when he looks at his watch and says, ‘Wow, is that the time? The evening has flown by.’

  I’m hoping this is a good sign as I really do like Joe. He’s wholesome, considerate and obviously a caring person.

  ‘I can’t think last when I was out this late on my own,’ he laughs. ‘I thought it would get easier when the kids were more grown-up, but the demands seem even more. They’re both high on hormones and most of my life is spent ferrying them about to parties and sleepovers. Their social life is ten times better than mine.’

  ‘It seems to be the way of the world now.’

  ‘I know I talk about them a lot,’ he says. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve bored you, but they’re my life. Everything I do, I do for them.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘That makes it harder for me to come to terms with what Gina has done. She puts herself ahead of everyone else.’ It’s the first time he’s mentioned her all evening and, as I suspected, his mood changes when he does. ‘I thought she’d find an excuse to back out of this weekend, but so far, so good. The kids were really excited to be going there. She lives in a big, posh house now and kids’ heads are easily turned.’

  ‘It will come right, I’m sure. All you have to do is persevere. Soon they’ll be off enjoying their own lives, maybe at university or travelling. The pain of this time will recede.’

  ‘Wise words,’ he says. ‘When you’re in the midst of it, sometimes it’s hard to retain your perspective.’ Then he laughs. ‘Before I get too maudlin, I’ll pay the bill.’

  ‘Let me split it with you.’

  ‘Wouldn’t dream of it,’ he says.

  ‘My treat next time.’

  He fixes me with a warm gaze. ‘I like the sound of that.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘I have to take this slowly,’ he says. ‘I’d like us to see each other again, but I have to think of the kids. They’ve been through too much for me to cause any more disruption. I don’t want someone coming into their lives only to crash out a few months later. I have to be sure.’ It seems as if he’s been thinking about this a lot. ‘It’s not an excuse. I really do want to see you, but can we agree to take it one step at a time?’

  ‘That suits me fine.’ That’s clearly the sensible thing to do. And we are both very sensible grown-ups.

  Then he drives me home and we park outside the granny annexe. We sit awkwardly in the car together, turning towards each other.

  ‘Thanks for a great evening, Ruby.’ Joe leans over and kisses me softly. ‘I’m out of practice with all this.’

  ‘It seemed all right to me,’ I admit, head spinning.

  ‘I’d better be off then.’

  We both linger and then kiss some more. It feels so right to be in his arms.

  My mouth goes dry when I say, ‘You said the kids were away tonight?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Our eyes meet and, hesitantly, he says, ‘I could stay for longer.’

  I try to sound nonchalant. ‘If you don’t have to rush back for the kids.’

  ‘This isn’t really taking it slowly, is it?’

  We both laugh at that. ‘No, it’s not,’ I agree. ‘But maybe we have to seize the moment.’

  This time, without pausing, he blurts out, ‘OK.’

  So, with an indecent amount of haste, we get out of the car and climb up my stairs together.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  We’re kissing again before I even open the door. In the living room, I make no pretence of offering coffee and we fall on each other hungrily, his mouth on mine, his hands exploring my body. We fall onto the sofa together and continue our fevered exploration. I fumble with the buttons of his shirt and he struggles with the zip of my best Primarni. We are half-naked, rumpled and revved-up when his phone rings. He looks at it with indecision and I want to say ‘don’t answer it’, but I know that it might be one of the kids and he can’t ignore that.

  ‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘Really sorry.’ He holds up a finger as he grabs his phone. ‘Don’t move a muscle.’

  But I do. I rearrange my clothing so that it’s slightly more decorous.

  ‘Hi,’ Joe says into his phone and then mouths at me ‘Daisy’ as he moves away from me to pace the living room floor, head shaking as he does.

  Hopefully, it’s nothing too serious. Maybe she just wants to say goodnight to him. Though the pacing may suggest otherwise. Surely her mother could deal with it? I keep my fingers crossed and my mind wanders while he murmurs into his phone. This has been going well, very well. We could move to the bedroom, I think, when festivities resume. Though I’d have to turn Gary Barlow to the wall.

  ‘Yeah. Yeah,’ he continues his pacing while running his hands through his hair. ‘I�
��ll meet you there.’ He hangs up and turns to me. ‘Sorry. Sorry.’ His face is bleak. ‘That was Gina. Daisy’s slipped on the stairs going up to bed and has landed awkwardly. Her hand has ballooned. Gina’s worried it might be broken, so they’re waiting at A&E now. I’ll have to go down there and see if she’s OK. Sorry.’

  ‘Don’t apologise,’ I say. ‘It’s important.’ Though inside I’m cursing the bad timing of this.

  He starts to button his shirt, embarrassed now.

  ‘You could come back,’ I offer, trying not to sound desperate.

  ‘I don’t know how long this will take. A&E on Saturday night will be like bedlam. We could be in for a four-hour wait with the drunks.’ He sighs. ‘Plus she might want to come home with me rather than go back with Gina.’

  ‘Can I do anything to help? I’ll come with you, if you like. I don’t mind. Really.’

  ‘Thanks for the offer, but I’d just better shoot off. Sorry to run out on you like this.’

  ‘Do what you have to do. It’s not a problem. Your daughter’s well-being is the most important thing. You need to be there or you’ll only worry about her.’

  There is something approaching despair in his expression. ‘I’ve enjoyed it though, Ruby. Can we do it again?’

  ‘I’d like that,’ I say. In fact there’s nothing I’d love more. I wish he didn’t have to dash off and that we could spend the night in each other’s arms. But it’s not to be. Not yet.

  ‘I hope that Daisy’s all right. Text me when you know what’s wrong.’

  ‘I will.’ He gives me a peck on the cheek, but I can tell that the moment has gone and that his thoughts are already elsewhere.

  ‘I’ll call you,’ he says and he dashes out of the door, his footsteps heavy on the stairs, his tyres screeching as he accelerates away down the road.

  ‘Damn,’ I say to no one but myself.

  I have a cup of tea and stay up watching rubbish telly. When it’s two o’clock and I still haven’t heard from Joe, I resort to the best comfort food of all, cheese on toast, even though I’m not remotely hungry after our lovely dinner. I check my phone a million times but there’s no text to let me know how Daisy is. Maybe the signal at the hospital is useless or maybe he’s had to turn his phone off.