Million Love Songs

by Carole Matthews

  Fair point.

  ‘If we all suddenly dropped them and started following, say, Spandau Ballet, where would they be?’

  ‘That’s never going to happen, is it?’

  Charlie grins at me. ‘Not while there’s breath in my body.’ She holds out her nails for me to admire.

  ‘Nice.’

  ‘I was going to get them painted with butterflies for Wonderland and all that, but I ran out of time.’

  ‘Work gets in the way of a lot of things,’ I agree. ‘We could try to get some stick-on butterflies in Accessorize at Euston.’

  ‘Sounds like a plan,’ Charlie says.

  So we manage to sneak out of an unguarded side entrance to Euston station and get our journey for free.

  ‘That’s a good omen,’ Charlie assures me.

  Our odds are further increased when we do manage to find some butterfly transfers to go on her nails. Result. One dirty, crowded Tube journey later – that we have to pay for – and we rock up at the five-star hotel where Take That are reportedly ensconced.

  It’s very nice. I can’t think that I’ve been anywhere quite so smart before. Even the posh hotel that Mason took me to was more understated than this. It’s all wall-to-wall black marble and modern art. And I’m not even going to say where it is as everyone will then be heading down here and Charlie would kill me.

  These days, I seem to spend a lot of time worrying about being murdered by Charlie.

  Already, there are a dozen fans taking up the sofas in the bar area. Their Take That T-shirts are a bit of a giveaway. Charlie recognises them instantly as girls from the fan forum and they all have a group hug.

  ‘This is Ruby,’ she says. ‘A newbie Thatter.’

  ‘Hi. I am on the forum,’ I add, in case they think I’m an imposter. Though I have been lurking on there rather than contributing.

  We order cocktails – at prices that only A-list celebrities would be comfortable with – and sit down. We hang out for the rest of the afternoon, talking, drinking more heinously-priced cocktails and gradually, we get more and more mellow.

  ‘Joe’s agreed that I can meet his kids,’ I tell Charlie. ‘I’m pleased, but it’s a bit scary too.’

  ‘Kids are not just for Christmas, they’re for life.’

  ‘What do you think we should do? Where do you take a teenage boy and girl so that they’re not bored out of their heads?’

  ‘Nando’s,’ is Charlie’s choice.

  ‘Noooo. That’s really dull. There must be some sort of activity they’d like.’

  She shrugs. ‘Shopping?’

  ‘I thought about wakeboarding or that iFly skydiving thing in the city centre.’

  ‘Sounds hideous.’ Charlie wrinkles her nose.

  ‘What about crazy golf or climbing?’ Charlie looks horrified that I could even think such a thing. ‘I want them to see me as a fun-loving, adventurous person.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because their dad is becoming an important person in my life.’

  ‘If I were you, I’d stay clear of the children altogether. Just shag their dad whenever you get a chance.’

  ‘But that’s sort of the point. Unless I integrate with the family as a whole I don’t even get the opportunity to do that. I don’t want to be nothing more than a booty call for him.’

  ‘You don’t seem to mind that when it’s Shagger Soames.’

  ‘I haven’t seen him for weeks,’ I remind her. ‘He’s not been in the Butcher’s Arms much lately either.’

  ‘Exhausted by his handful of shifts, he’s probably off swanning round the Med on a yacht to recover while dating a supermodel or something.’

  I sigh and don’t really know why. Probably because Charlie might be right.

  ‘I’d like to have a proper relationship with Joe and if that means taking on his children, then I’m prepared to do it.’

  ‘Madness.’

  I don’t like to point out that we’re spending our afternoon sitting in a hotel just waiting for the outside chance of catching sight of an unattainable man. I know that Charlie is terrified of commitment and for good reason, but it would actually be less hard work to have a real boyfriend. It would take a braver woman than me to tell her that though.

  Then, as some of the ladies are thinking of moving on, a couple of seriously slick limousines pull up at the front of the hotel. And that’s our cue. No one needs even to speak. As one, we’re out of that reception like greyhounds out of a trap. The minute we hit the pavement, Take That appear from a side entrance.

  ‘Garrrrrreeeeee!’ Charlie screams in my ear. He turns and smiles. She clicks her phone camera. Got him!

  Security guards hustle them towards the waiting limos. We’re on them, crushing together in a pack. The boys hold out their hands and high-five the nearest women, sending them into fevered ecstasy. With practised ease, they’re in their cars in a flash and, before the doors are barely shut, they speed off with us in hot pursuit, tottering along the pavement in our heels after them.

  ‘Did you see that?’ Charlie turns to me. ‘Did you flipping see that?’ She jumps up and down and I jump up and down with her. That was actually bloody awesome!

  ‘I get this,’ I tell her. ‘I totally get it.’

  Charlie and I high-five each other. ‘I think you can officially call yourself a Thatter now.’

  I allow myself a giddy little giggle. ‘Cool.’

  Then arm-in-arm we Thatters go back to the bar, high on adrenaline, flushed with the thrill of the chase, bubbling with excitement and chattering like a flock of colourful birds. We are true fans, the unshakeable. We came, we saw, we got our photos for social media. And even the fact that someone has cleared away about a hundred and eighty quid’s worth of our cocktails cannot quell our spirits.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Joe’s kids don’t want to go wakeboarding. They don’t want to go to iFly and pretend they’re skydiving either. Arial Extreme Adventure is ruled out as being naff too. Cinema – nothing they both want to see. Big Rock Climbing – lame. Ice-skating at Planet Ice – get real. Bounce trampolining – so last year. Hollywood Bowling – the shoes smell. Indoor skiing at the Snozone – too cold. Mr Mulligan’s Pirate Crazy Golf. Woburn Safari Park. Daytona karting. No, no, no.

  We go to Nando’s.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  I smile brightly as the kids sit opposite me scowling. Both Joe and I are trying too hard to be jolly and it’s excruciating.

  We know it’s excruciating. They know it’s excruciating.

  Daisy is the picture of pre-teen resentment, whereas Tom clearly thinks he’s too cool to be wasting his time on me. It’s a heady combination and I’m wilting in the face of it.

  ‘What do you fancy to eat, kids?’ Joe asks, rubbing his hands together in an over-enthusiastic manner. ‘I’m starving.’

  Daisy exudes ennui. ‘I don’t think I like chicken any more.’

  ‘They have other things, Dais,’ Joe says. ‘What about a veggie burger?’

  ‘I don’t like vegetables any more,’ she sighs.

  He tries his other offspring to see if he has better luck. He doesn’t. ‘Tom? Have you decided?’

  Tom hasn’t even opened his menu yet. ‘A burger.’

  ‘What kind?’

  He shrugs. ‘Don’t care.’

  This is my one day off in two weeks when it has actually coincided with seeing Joe and this is my big chance to impress his children. So far, it’s not going well. They seem to have decided that they hate me and I haven’t even done anything yet.

  The sun is beating down outside and we’re in a noisy, busy, air-conditioned restaurant that’s chilled to below zero and two of us are finding the food selection wanting.

  Daisy slumps forward on the table, the exertion of choosing food apparently all too much for her. ‘Mum always lets me have the choc-a-lot cake instead of dinner.’

  ‘Well, I’m not your mum,’ Joe points out. ‘If you finish your main course, then you
can have a pudding. Daisy, you’re twelve. You know the score by now.’

  She closes her menu with dramatic finality and pushes it away from her as if it’s poisoned. ‘I’m not hungry.’

  ‘OK, but I’m not cooking later,’ Joe says. ‘I’ve got the ironing to do.’ He turns to me and grimaces. ‘It’s my most hated chore of the week. Ten school shirts for these two and five of my own for a kick off.’

  I’m realising that I know nothing about his life. How little I appreciated all that he has to deal with or what it is for any single parent to manage their children alone. Now that they’re sitting here in front of me, reality punches me in the guts and I realise that they may be a mountain I’m unable to climb.

  The waitress comes and, by some miracle, we all manage to order. Joe looks relieved. Under the table his hand finds mine and he gives it a reassuring squeeze which is very timely as every fibre of my being is telling me to get up and leave. However, I’ve resolved to give this tricky initial get-together my best shot. I have to remember that this is the first woman other than their mum that they’ve ever seen their dad with and it will take some coming to terms with. It’s all new to them as it is to me. But I am in his life whether they like it or not and we’re all going to have to find a way to deal with it.

  I take a deep breath before I say, ‘So what kind of music do you guys like?’

  They look at me aghast and a profound silence descends on the table.

  ‘Daisy?’ Joe prompts.

  Her look says whatever and she still doesn’t reply.

  ‘You love Taylor Swift and Harry Styles, don’t you?’ he presses on.

  ‘They’re OK,’ she says with disdain. ‘A bit childish.’

  ‘Tom?’ Joe gives his son a direct look. ‘Ruby asked you a question.’

  ‘Grim Sickers. MoStack. Lethal Bizzle. Stormzy,’ he answers flatly. Tom’s expression says you’re none the wiser, are you?

  I wonder if he’s actually just made the names up. They’re certainly not on Radio 2.

  ‘It’s all a terrible noise,’ Joe says with an attempt at a lighthearted laugh. ‘Give me Coldplay any day. Something with a tune.’

  ‘I’ve recently become a big fan of Take That,’ I tell them brightly. ‘My friend is a huge fangirl and she started taking me along to gigs and stuff. Now I really like them.’

  They both stare at me blankly.

  I flounder around thinking of something else to say and fail.

  Our food comes and the conversation, if humanly possible, is even more stilted. Joe makes a valiant effort at keeping it going and I try to chip in too, but it’s like talking to two brick walls. All my efforts are bouncing right back off them.

  As we eat, my food nearly chokes me. Every question is met by a rebuff or outright stonewalling and it’s quite possibly the longest meal of my life. I knew this would be difficult, but I didn’t realise they’d be quite so deliberately hurtful. Don’t they want to see their dad happy again? Can’t they see that I’m making an effort here?

  After the main course has been cleared away, Tom picks up his phone.

  ‘No phones at the table,’ Joe says.

  His son, with a look that could curdle milk, puts it down again with an exasperated huff. Let him use the phone, I think. Let’s end this misery for all of us.

  ‘Anyone for dessert?’ Joe says, optimistically.

  I turn to him and whisper, ‘I think I should be going.’

  It’s the first time that I see the children smile.

  ‘Are you sure?’ His look of concern makes me want to cry.

  ‘Yes, you all enjoy the rest of your day.’ I go to stand up and he puts a hand on my arm.

  ‘Hang on.’ He faces his kids. ‘You’ve both been really rude to Ruby today and I’d like you to apologise.’

  The children gape at him, faces full of unbridled hostility.

  ‘They’re not normally like this,’ he tells me. ‘They’re good kids. I don’t know what’s got into them.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ I assure him when it patently isn’t. ‘I have things I should be doing.’

  ‘I’ll walk you out.’ He wags an angry finger at his children. ‘You and I are going to have words when I get back.’

  It only makes them sulk more.

  ‘Bye, Tom. Bye, Daisy.’

  ‘Bye,’ they mumble in unison and with equal amounts of grudging.

  It’s never really been put to the test, but I always thought that I quite liked children; maybe I don’t. Babies are cool, but I’m not sure that I’m keen on teenagers at all.

  ‘Sorry,’ he says as we leave the restaurant. ‘I’m really sorry. They’ve behaved appallingly. They’re not normally like this.’

  ‘It’s OK.’ I knew that they’d put me to the test and they certainly did. I never expected them to embrace me with open arms, but neither did I imagine such direct opposition and I have crumbled in the face of their rudeness. Teenagers, one. Ruby, nil.

  ‘It isn’t OK. They’ve been awful. That was painful.’

  Probably one of the most painful experiences of my life and, believe me, I’ve had a few. ‘You were right, Joe. I was wrong. It’s too soon.’

  ‘They’ll have to get used to it,’ he says, sounding determined. ‘I need a life of my own too.’

  I have an awful feeling that I’ve made things even worse by insisting on meeting them. They were supposed to think I was a fun, friendly person and yet they didn’t give me a chance. Breaking into this family could be like trying to crack a walnut with a feather.

  Joe catches my hand in his and we swing them between us as he accompanies me to my car. He kisses me softly and makes my head spin, but it’s tinged with sadness. I so wanted this to go well. I wanted the kids to think I was the kind of cool person who would enhance their lives, but my best efforts fell woefully short. They despised me and made it glaringly obvious.

  ‘I’ll call you,’ he says. ‘Give me a couple of days and we’ll sort out another night out. By ourselves.’

  ‘You’re a good man,’ I say, heavy of heart.

  ‘I’d better get back.’ He looks over his shoulder towards Nando’s and the ties that bind him.

  I could cry when I kiss Joe goodbye. I sit in the car and watch him walk back to his children, hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched.

  That’s it. There’s no way that this relationship will ever work. I’m simply not up to taking on his hostile kids. And I liked him. I really did.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  By the time I get home, I’m in the depths of depression. I call Joe and his phone goes to voicemail. Coward that I am, I think this is a good thing.

  I leave him a message telling him that I don’t think that this will work between us. I explain that I’ve really enjoyed knowing him, but that now he needs to concentrate on his family. I tell him that he was right that it’s too soon to introduce another person into the mix. I wish him well and then hang up.

  I sit and shake for a bit, wondering exactly what I’ve done. I think perhaps Joe will call me when he picks up the message, but he doesn’t.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  At work that night Mason is all over me like a rash. The more I push him away, the keener he is. He asks me to go to his club with him when my shift ends. And I think sod it, why not? I’ve had a shit day and I deserve some fun.

  We dance, drink too much and, afterwards, I go up to his flat with him drunk as a skunk. In bed, he blindfolds me, ties me up and pours champagne over my body which he laps up like a cat. The things he does with his tongue are totally obscene. And I love every fucking minute of it.

  Just don’t tell Charlie. Please don’t tell Charlie.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  As if she’s psychic, Charlie phones me in the morning. I’m still in bed next to Mason. The ties and blindfold are still on the pillow. I get a flashback to our night of passion and feel an unwanted rush of desire for him.

  ‘Hiya,’ she says, brightly. ‘What are you up to
this morning, Chummie?’

  I look across at my companion who’s stirring from his sleep. ‘Err. Not much.’

  Call me fickle, but I want to get up and out of here as fast as I can before Mason can do any more damage.

  ‘Meet me for brekkie,’ Charlie says. ‘Then we can go straight to work.’

  ‘OK. Give me an hour.’

  ‘We’ll meet at the café in the woods?’ One of our favourite haunts.

  ‘Sounds like a plan. See you later.’ I hang up.

  Mason opens one eye. ‘Good morning, Brown.’

  ‘Sorry my phone woke you. It was Charlie. I’m meeting her for breakfast.’

  His hand snakes under the sheet and round my waist, pulling me to him. His leg rests over mine, pinning me to the bed. I get a vision of him above me last night, my hands bound and held over my head. ‘Don’t go,’ he says. ‘Stay. I’ll make you breakfast. I am the king of scrambled eggs.’

  He’s probably had lots of practice, I think. I wonder how many women have already been in this posh apartment with him. You don’t keep a blindfold for yourself, do you now?

  ‘I should go.’ I wriggle away from him and out of the bed.

  Mason sighs at me. ‘Last night was fun, right?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘It was great.’ Just what I needed, apparently.

  ‘So why are you running out on me this morning?’

  ‘I’m not running out, I’m just leaving.’

  ‘I can’t read you, Ruby.’ He shakes his head. ‘You’re always keeping me at arm’s length.’

  ‘I’m in your bed.’

  ‘But you’re not entirely here, are you? You’re already somewhere else.’ He stares at me, levelly. ‘I think we could be good together.’

  ‘I’m looking for more, Mason.’

  ‘How do you know that I can’t give you more until you try me?’

  I’ve no idea what to say to that, so I deflect, ‘Charlie’s waiting for me. I have to go.’