Million Love Songs

by Carole Matthews

  He rubs his face as if his eyes are tired. After what he’s just seen, I should imagine that he’d want to bleach them.

  ‘Gina’s left. Again,’ Joe says, eventually. ‘We tried. For a few weeks I even thought we might make it.’ His hands grip the steering wheel. ‘Then I found that she was still texting her boyfriend behind my back. She hadn’t given him up at all. Never intended to.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ And I genuinely am. Joe’s a decent man and deserves more than that.

  ‘The thing is,’ he says, ‘I felt relieved when she went. I was putting my life, my feelings on hold for her and she threw it in my face.’

  ‘Oh, Joe. Are the kids OK?’

  ‘They’re not great, but they’re putting a brave face on it. I think they realise that we were trying to play Happy Families for their sake. They’re upset that it didn’t work out. That’s the hard bit. They shouldn’t have had to see her walk out a second time.’

  He sucks in a breath and turns back towards me. ‘I couldn’t stop thinking about you, Ruby.’

  I try a smile. ‘I’m pleased to hear that.’

  ‘Are you?’ He gives me a hard stare. ‘The kids were away tonight. Gina promised them that she’d see them more and believes strongly that a well-aimed pizza will fix anything. I was roaming round the house, not really knowing what to do with myself and I thought I’d come to tell you. I went to your apartment and, when it was clear you weren’t there, I guessed that you might still be at work.’

  ‘You were right about that.’

  ‘I thought it would be a surprise.’

  ‘You were right about that too.’

  ‘I guess so.’ He laughs without humour. ‘I didn’t mean to make things difficult for you. I never thought that you’d be seeing someone else.’

  ‘We’re just mates,’ I tell him. ‘Mason is my boss.’

  ‘You seem to be quite friendly.’ His tone is barbed and I can’t say that I blame him.

  ‘We do have a bit of history,’ I confess. ‘Tonight we had too many cocktails and got a bit carried away. It was stupid, but not against the law. I’m not in a relationship with Mason, if that’s what you think.’

  ‘If I’m honest with you, Ruby. I don’t know what to think.’

  ‘I’m single and have no commitments, Joe. As far as I knew you were back with Gina for good. I saw you in the shopping centre a while ago. You both looked very loved-up.’

  ‘You did?’

  I nod. ‘It tore me in two. I’ve tried to move on.’

  ‘Looks like you’re making a good job of it.’

  ‘Not really,’ I admit. ‘I’ve missed you too, but you’ve got to agree that this situation is complicated.’

  ‘I wanted to ask you if we could give our relationship another go, but I’ve realised that it’s too soon. I can’t do complicated, Ruby. What I need is to be by myself for a while, to focus on me and the kids. They have to come before what I want.’

  ‘I’m not with Mason,’ I insist. ‘He’s a great bloke, but I have no future with him. He’s young and irresponsible and we just have a good laugh together. Occasionally more. We’ve literally been friends with benefits.’

  Joe risks a smile. ‘That’s way too modern for me.’

  ‘And me. It’s not what I want. It’s not who I am. You’re the one that I want to be with. Yet I didn’t think there was any chance of that happening. If you’ll let me, I would really like to try again.’

  I can see the indecision on Joe’s face, but also appreciate that he’s only just had an abortive attempt at rekindling his relationship with his wife. He still must be feeling so raw. I can see that he wouldn’t want to get involved with me again to protect his kids from further hurt. I could tear my hair out, gnash my teeth down to stumps, howl at the moon. This is totally pathetic timing. If only I hadn’t got pissed with Mason. If only I hadn’t been so keen for him to ravish me on chef’s prep table. If only, if only. Why does life have to be so bloody difficult?

  ‘Let’s keep in touch and see each other as friends.’ I’m starting to sound desperate even to my own ears. Perhaps I’d feel able to argue my case better if I didn’t look as if I’d been thoroughly and soundly shagged. How mortifying. ‘We don’t have to rush into anything. Let’s pretend that we’ve just met. I really believe that we could start all over again given time. I’d love to see the kids too.’

  He shakes his head. ‘I think maybe our moment has passed, Ruby,’ Joe says, sadly. ‘It was a mistake to come here. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Please don’t go. We haven’t resolved this. I could come home with you so we could have a coffee and chat some more.’

  ‘I’ll have to pass on that,’ Joe says, his voice filled with regret.

  ‘I don’t want to leave it like this.’ But Joe stays immobile and offers no alternative. So, when there’s nothing more left to say and I can’t think of anything else to do, I kiss his cheek and say, ‘Take care.’

  ‘You too.’

  Then I get out of his car and stand in the glare of the security light with my misbuttoned blouse and my droopy stockings and my heart aching. Joe drives away and I watch him, my heart feeling like a lead weight in my chest.

  ‘You’ve messed this up big time, Ruby Brown,’ I say to no one but myself.

  Chapter Ninety

  I go back into the Butcher’s Arms, heartbroken.

  Mason looks up. ‘OK?’

  ‘Yeah. No. Not really.’

  ‘You love him?’

  ‘What does that matter?’

  ‘Has he gone?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘You’re not going with him?’

  ‘No.’

  He holds out my pants to me and, despite everything, that makes me smile. ‘Want to come back to my place and finish what we started?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say.

  Why not? That’s what Single and Fabulous women do. They break hearts, they get their hearts broken, they sleep with unsuitable men nicknamed Shagger. They totally and utterly fuck up.

  Chapter Ninety-One

  So. Big jump forward. And here were are in Paris again. I’ve been seeing Mason properly for two months now. Ever since that fateful night in the Butcher’s Arms. I know, I bet you never thought you’d hear me say that. Me neither. All I can say is that I tried nice and nice didn’t work. I try not to think about Joe and, most of the time, I manage it. I’m only mentioning him now because I think you’d want to know.

  To be fair to him, Mason’s been trying really hard to be a proper boyfriend. He takes me out to nice dinners in fancy restaurants, he buys me flowers regularly and not just ones from supermarkets, but gorgeous arrangements from a posh florist. He remembers that roses are my favourites. He calls when he says he’ll call – well, mostly. He’s created a space for some of my clothes in his wardrobe. A small space, but it’s there nevertheless. I keep a toothbrush in his bathroom. It’s all a bit too good to be true. In fact, it’s going so well that I’ve even had to persuade Charlie to refer to him as Mason now rather than Shagger.

  She does so. Somewhat grudgingly.

  He’s even brought me on the promised return trip to the City of Love. And – double bubble – we’re here to see Take That. Yay! Be still my beating heart. Mason, of course, managed to get VIP tickets through a friend of a friend of a friend. Seated. Gold circle. We’re also having a pre-show Meet and Greet with Gary and the lads, plus unlimited champagne and I think I might just be in heaven.

  Charlie and Nice Paul are here too. They’re with the official fan club trip and are staying in a hotel a few streets away from where we are. We, as you will gather, are in a much posher hotel booked by Mason.

  Our hotel is elegant, quaint and the room sumptuously furnished in jewel colours. We still have a view of the Eiffel Tower over the rooftops, but from a different direction this time. The hotel is on Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré, a quiet street off the Champs-Élysées and is home to a cluster of high-end boutiques and the beautiful É
lysée Palace. I’m trying to persuade Mason to take a tour of it, if we’ve got time. Though I’ve already grasped the fact that he’s not exactly a culture vulture and much prefers the cafés and restaurants to the palaces and museums.

  I stand on our little balcony and look out over the city. This time the weather is kind to us – it’s warm, sunny, the sky a muted blue, speckled with wisps of cloud. ‘This is lovely.’

  Mason looks up from his phone. ‘Yeah.’

  My only stipulation for this trip was that I absolutely refused to go back to the hotel where Valerie works. Actually, I had two stipulations – different hotel, only two of us in the bed at any time. Mason was happy enough to comply. We have, as is Mason’s way, had a lot of sex – but maybe not quite as much as we did last time. These past few months have made me realise that it’s never going to be the missionary position every night with Mason. He definitely likes his love on the edgy side – which is, on occasions, exhausting. Maybe TMI, but I wouldn’t mind a bit of vanilla every now and again – especially when I’ve got to get up for work the next day. However, it’s nice that he’s keen and there’s no doubt that he’s a good lover.

  A text comes in and it’s Charlie telling me that they’ve just arrived. They came over on the ferry by coach, whereas we took the Eurostar. We organise to meet for a drink before the concert and I can’t wait to see my friend. ‘Charlie and Nice Paul are here,’ I tell Mason.

  He looks up from his phone again. ‘Cool.’

  Mason and I arrived yesterday and, unlike our other trip which was a bit of a washout, I’ve already managed to cajole him into doing some sightseeing. I’ve fallen in love with Paris. We went to the Louvre which was fantastic even though I’m not much of an art lover and we queued for France to get in. It’s true that the Mona Lisa is much smaller than you think and it’s shielded by bulletproof glass, but it’s amazing and I’m glad that I know these things from personal experience.

  After lunch at a little bistro, we went up the Eiffel Tower – which also took for ever and was crowded beyond belief. Despite my fear of heights, the view from over a thousand feet above the city was spectacular and well worth the effort. Mason wrapped his arms round me as we stood admiring the city and I felt the kind of contentment that I hadn’t in a long time. Perhaps I can be happy with him.

  ‘What are you smiling at?’ He throws his phone on the bed and comes over to join me on the balcony, snaking his arms round my waist and pulling me close.

  ‘I’m having a really great time,’ I tell him. ‘Thank you for bringing me back.’

  ‘Only the best for you,’ he says and nuzzles my neck. ‘Shall we go and do some damage to a decent red, then take a bateau trip? We didn’t manage it before.’

  ‘That sounds like a very relaxing way to spend an afternoon and I want to conserve my energy for the concert tonight.’

  So we head out and do just that. We hold hands and kiss as we go along the street, like a couple in love. I look over at Mason, well-groomed, as always, in his designer T-shirt and jeans and I feel a rush of affection for him. I feel as if I’m finally starting to see more and more of the real Mason Soames rather than the face that he puts on for the world and I very much like what I see.

  Lunch is a croque-monsieur and a bottle of Chateau la Croix something or another, enjoyed outside at a pavement café. We chat, laugh, drink too much. Then we walk down to the River Seine, hop on board a Bateau-Mouche boat and find a place on the open-air viewing deck. We drift down the river, passing Notre Dame Cathedral and La Conciergerie, the distinctive glass pyramid of the Louvre and more views of the Eiffel Tower. Mason throws his arm round my shoulder and laughs at the amount of photographs I take on my phone.

  ‘Selfie,’ I say.

  ‘Another?’

  ‘When I’m old and grey, I want to look back at these and remember that I’ve been here.’

  He strokes my face. ‘It’s nice to see Paris through your eyes, Brown. It’s like seeing it through the eyes of a five-year-old.’

  ‘I take it that’s a compliment?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He laughs. ‘Let’s travel the world together and take selfies at all the best spots.’

  I snuggle in next to him, my heart light. ‘Let’s do that.’

  Chapter Ninety-Two

  Too soon, it’s time to go back to the hotel and get ready for the concert – but that’s exciting too. I’ve never been to see a band abroad before, so I can chalk up another first. It feels like a very sophisticated thing to do. I can now drop, casually, into conversations, ‘Oh, when I saw Gary in Paris … ’

  Life with Mason certainly isn’t short on excitement.

  I have a shower first. If Mason and I go in together, we’ll never get out tonight and there’ll be two empty seats in the VIP rows. I let the water wash away the dust of the day and then, wrapping myself in one of the hotel’s fluffy towels, go back into the bedroom. ‘Your turn,’ I say to Mason.

  He throws his phone down. ‘Do you want to send for some tea before we go out?’

  ‘No. I’m fine. We’ll be hooking up with Charlie soon. I’ll probably just hit the wine again.’

  Mason slaps my bottom playfully as he passes. ‘My kind of woman.’

  So I towel myself down and smile as I listen to Mason whistling tunelessly in the shower. He sounds happy too and I really think that we can make a good go of this relationship.

  Charlie gave me one of the tour T-shirts as a present and I’m thrilled to put it on tonight. If I’m going to shake the hand of The Barlow, I want to look not only as hot as I possibly can, but like a total fangirl. I get a flutter of nerves in my tummy.

  Then Mason’s phone pings on the bed and, without thinking, I pick it up and glance at the text that comes in.

  I’ll be waiting. V xx it says. My stomach drops.

  I glance towards the bathroom, but Mason’s whistling tells me that he’s still in the shower and oblivious to the incoming text. I notice that my fingers are trembling as I scroll back through the previous messages. Clearly these are intimate texts. Ones that weren’t intended for my eyes.

  Mason to V. I’m in town, babe. Available?

  Always for you. Where r u? Shall I come over? V xx

  Mason to V. Valerie. It has to be.

  He’s tapped in our hotel name. Here with a friend. A friend? Is that how Mason sees me? Nothing more than that?

  You or both tonight? V xx

  Me. She’s not interested in fun.

  Good. I get to have you all to myself. When? V xx

  I flick through them feeling both sick and guilty at the same time. All the time that I thought we were having a lovely romantic weekend and Mason has been texting another woman. And not just any other woman. It has to be Valerie. The one we shared a threesome with. And, for the record, I am interested in bloody fun, but the kind of ‘fun’ that only involves one other person.

  Guiltily, I carry on scrolling. Though, if we analyse this, I’m not the one who should be feeling guilty. Supposed to be seeing Take That.

  Afterwards? V xx

  The sooner the better. I’ll find some excuse not to go & come over to hotel. Same room as usual?

  Then the first text I saw. I’ll be waiting. V xx

  I put down the phone. I should feel angry, raging, but I don’t. Perhaps that’s telling. I’m not even cross or surprised. There’s a kind of inevitability about it all. I’m sad more than anything. Sad, weary and disappointed. Disappointed in Mason and in myself. I ignored all my instincts, all the warning signs and allowed myself to believe that this was for real when in my heart I knew it was too good to be true that Mason was a reformed character. Turns out I was right.

  Chapter Ninety-Three

  Quickly, quietly, I get dressed in my Take That T-shirt and jeans. I throw the rest of my clothes into my weekend case. I stuff the concert tickets from the bedside table into my handbag.

  I look towards the bathroom door where, inside, Mason is still happily going through his ablutions
. Perhaps he’s making sure that his shave is extra close, putting on a splash more after shave, looking forward to tonight’s entertainment. And I don’t mean getting up close and personal with Gary Barlow. Mason has an entirely different form of entertainment on his mind. Well, good luck to him. I won’t be part of it. I’ve had one cheating, shagging, bastard ex, I’ll not have another one.

  With only a brief glimpse round the beautiful room, I tiptoe out and close the door behind me.

  Out on the street, I hail a cab and, when I’m settled in the back seat, I call Charlie and tell her that I’m on my way to their hotel. It’s only then that I have a good cry.

  Chapter Ninety-Four

  The cab pulls up at Charlie’s hotel where she and Nice Paul are sitting out at the pavement tables having a beer in the sunshine. I pay the driver and wheel my case over to them.

  ‘I’m not liking the look of this,’ Charlie says, eyeing my luggage.

  I pull up a chair and sit down, then signal to the waiter that I’d like a beer too. In fact, I’d quite like a dozen or more. But, as I don’t know how to say a dozen in French, I settle for one. For now.

  When I take off my sunglasses, Charlie adds, ‘You’ve got puffy eyes too.’

  There’s no point beating about the bush. ‘Mason was texting another woman to arrange to see her tonight. I caught him out.’

  ‘Seeing someone here?’

  ‘Valerie.’ I raise an eyebrow.

  Charlie’s eyeballs nearly ping out of her head. ‘Valerie! Her of the …?’

  Please don’t tell Nice Paul that I’ve had a threesome, I pray silently.

  Charlie realises what she’s about to say and waggles three fingers in a lascivious manner in the air instead. Unless Nice Paul is a complete dunderhead, I’m sure he’ll gather her meaning too.

  ‘Yes. That Valerie.’ I still blush at the thought of it.