Next time I see Liam I want to have swishy hair, perfect make-up, control pants and a man holding my hand.
I don’t want him back, but I don’t want to look pathetic. I don’t want him to realise that when he dumped me I let myself go a little bit. I have to be the fully restored version of myself – and I’m not quite there yet. Call me shallow, but I want Liam to look and weep. To regret doing what he did.
Sarah gets it without me saying another word. ‘He’s got his back to us. You make a dash for the door and I’ll pay the bill.’
I peep over the edge of the table, look longingly at the last bit of my very fancy kebab and half a glass of very expensive wine.
It’s Liam’s laugh that breaks the spell, and puts me off my food. It sends me scurrying for the door like a crab that’s scared of being stranded.
How did I ever think that laugh was remotely funny?
To be honest I don’t think I ever did. It’s a bit like a hyena, but one that’s been to public school. With added snorty bits.
Chapter 10
I have not managed to avoid supper with my parents. It has occurred to me though that this might give us a chance to have a dry run. If my parents, the closest people to me, believe that Jake is my boyfriend, then surely everybody else will? It will also be a test of Jake’s durability. If he can survive this and still have a grin on his face then I honestly believe he will be able to survive whatever Scotland throws at us. It will be, as Sarah said, a baptism of fire. I’m not altogether sure I like the sound of that though, I would hate him to spontaneously combust and go up in smoke. It will not be, as Sarah also said, awesome.
On the positive side, I have had a hint about why Jake needs a distraction. I know that he does not want commitment because he has been stung, and so I am now wondering if behind that grin he is hiding a broken heart, and if, like me, it has hardened his resolve to be true to himself and not let a relationship lead to compromise and complacency.
However, I still haven’t got any rules established (which I think could be important, as I am a bit worried about Jake’s idea of having his own rules), and I don’t know if his acting aspirations stop at patient-in-the-third-bed-along and strange alien. Not only is knowing this essential for our wedding trip, I’d also quite like to know just because I can’t imagine him being happy with a Wikipedia listing that doesn’t include anything slightly more exciting. And I don’t expect the uncle who has supported his dreams would be either.
I have therefore suggested to Jake that we meet at the local pub for a drink before enduring supper. It will also give me a chance to have a nerve-steadying glass of wine, and prepare him for what lies ahead.
Unfortunately he calls to say he’s had a ‘family emergency’ and has had to rush round to his gran’s as her dog is ‘stuck up next door’s tree’. This sounds like a very strange excuse to me, and I’m beginning to feel a bit worried that he’s not going to turn up at all, when there is a knock on the door.
‘Will I do?’
I don’t quite know what to expect for ‘supper’, as it isn’t a concept I was brought up with. I had therefore suggested to Jake that we go for ‘smart-casual’ as I would like him to make a good impression, but not look like he is trying too hard (I don’t want Mum to get carried away and buy a wedding hat, then be grief-stricken when we split up after the trip to Scotland).
Jake does smart-casual very well though, as I thought he might. He is stood on the doorstep holding a large bunch of flowers and carrying a bottle of champagne, and he is wearing a very nice leather jacket (that looks super soft and lived in, and smells wonderful when he leans forward to kiss me on the cheek), a shirt that is the mauve-ish-pink that straight men will only wear if they are seriously confident or good-looking, and black jeans.
‘Well?’
I pretend to give him the once-over for parental approval reasons, but really it’s just a good excuse to give him a good ogle. There is no trace of his normal five o’clock shadow (see, I am starting to know something about him), so he has obviously shaved. I quite like his usual slightly-rough-around-the-edges image, a trace of stubble and mussed up hair, but it is nice to see that he has made an effort in the way any boyfriend should when meeting his potential in-laws.
‘Definitely.’
‘I thought we could chat in the taxi?’ He grins. ‘We can tell him to go round the block a few times?’
This feels a bit like I imagine a speed-date would. There are lots of questions I want to ask, but as the taxi pulls away from the kerb I now feel completely tongue-tied. ‘Dog up a tree?’ This is not what I intended to ask at all.
‘He’s a border collie and was chasing her neighbour’s cat. He’s actually pretty nimble and scampers up quite high, but I think he got carried away.’
‘So you had to climb up?’ I’ve got an image of him heroically scaling the heights, desperate to rescue the poor animal, totally disregarding his own safety. Then wrapping it up in strong arms and…
‘No, I got the tin of biscuits out. He decided to just let go and allow gravity to do the rest.’
I now have an image in my head of a crumpled furry body. ‘Oh my God, the poor…’
‘He’s fine. He bounces, though she did cuff me round the head and told me she could have done that herself. She’s a right one, my gran. Left here, or round the block again?’
‘Block. When do you start doing this film?’ Knowing that his gran has a dog, and is a bit feisty is enough knowledge on that front, there are more pressing matters.
‘Two weeks after we get back from Scotland.’
I like the way he says that, it sounds couple-y, natural. I think he must have been practising.
‘It could be my big break, I’ve had umpteen screen tests and my agent finally confirmed it a couple of weeks ago.’
‘You’re not an alien in it then?’
‘Nope, I play an author who has holed himself up on a Greek island to finish his book. My turn, how long have we been dating?’
‘Two months, no, it’ll be three now. I needed time, you know, I didn’t want to date you on the rebound, did I? I’m not that kind of girl.’
‘Of course, so we’ve taken it slow.’
‘We have.’
‘Have we, er, you know?’ He raises an eyebrow, and I get a hot flush.
‘Well, of course, I’m not a prude you know.’ Liam has to think we’ve slept together. ‘There’s slow, and there’s…’
‘Dead from the waist down?’
‘Sex—’ I peer at him, it would be over my glasses if I wore them, which I don’t ‘—starts in a woman’s head, not below the waist.’ The taxi driver chuckles. I always suspected that they could hear when you closed the screen, they just have them so that we think they can’t hear and say all kinds of private things that they can store up and laugh about in the pub.
‘Sex, I find, starts right here.’ Jake’s gone all husky and dirty sounding, and he closes in and drops the tiniest kiss on my lips, the kind you might have imagined, it is so light, but it makes your stomach squish and something clench at the top of your thighs. Or is that just me? Anyway, it is extremely disconcerting that he can turn me on like that. Especially as I have forgotten to shout out ‘round the block again’ directions. Oh bloody hell, we have pulled up outside my parents’ house.
‘You’re here!’ Mum is waiting at the front door. Which means she was spying, and probably saw the kiss. ‘I could swear I saw a cab that looked just like yours going past the house only minutes ago, well I saw it twice, now isn’t that funny?’ She laughs and gives me a pointed look. ‘I said that to your father, didn’t I David? It’s not often you see one cab driving past our house, let alone two in as many minutes.’
I am debating whether to start the evening off with yet another lie, when she gives a little shriek. ‘Oh, how lovely.’ Jake has produced his gifts, and kissed Mum on the cheek, which has made her forget all about the taxi. ‘Flowers, and these don’t look like they came from the pe
trol station, do they David?’ Despite all the comments she has made over the years, my father still gives her bouquets that he has spotted by the till when he’s paying for his petrol, and it still hasn’t occurred to him to take the price label off.
‘They certainly don’t, and nor does this bubbly. Splendid, splendid.’
‘Oh my goodness, champers!’ Mum giggles. ‘Are we celebrating something?’ She did see the kiss, and is now clutching my hand as though she expects a solitaire diamond to materialise any second.
‘We certainly are.’ Jake winks at me, and I try to glare back surreptitiously. Which is bloody hard. Lying about our relationship is one thing, but letting my mother imagine she can hear the ding-dong of wedding bells is dangerous territory. ‘First bottle of many, hey darling?’
I cosy up, so that I have the opportunity to dig him in the ribs and stand on his foot. Unfortunately, being bigger and stronger than me means he can get me in something akin to an affectionate headlock and ruffle my hair. He is so going to regret this.
‘I just love how enthusiastic Sam is about this, don’t I darling?’ Why is he still talking? ‘Can’t stop jumping about, can you?’
‘She always did get a bit over-excited, you should have seen her at Christmas when she was three.’ My mother is warming up.
‘No, he shouldn’t, Mum.’
‘Up at three in the morning she was, we found her surrounded by torn up bits of wrapping paper, didn’t we David? Surrounded she was, and crying. Sobbing her little heart out because she’d opened ties and slippers and didn’t realise they weren’t for her!’
I think Dad wanted to sob his heart out too when he saw that tie.
‘Aww how sweet, I can just see it. That’s what I love about you so much, your impulsive nature, the way I can see every emotion on your lovely face. So honest and open.’ He kisses the tip of my nose and his eyes are practically twinkling.
‘Now, haven’t I always said that, Samantha? Like an open book, you are.’
‘Now Mrs Jenkins—’
‘Oh, call me Ruth, call me Ruth.’ She is practically simpering, this is so embarrassing.
‘Ruth.’ Jake smiles. ‘I think we need to crack this bottle open and you can help me celebrate, it’s not every day a man gets his first big film contract!’
The flicker of disappointment on my mother’s face, as she realises we are not about to announce our nuptials, is quickly replaced with excitement that she practically has a film star in the family.
‘Oh my goodness me, come through, come through. Haven’t you got that champers open yet, David? Honestly, chop, chop dear, we need to celebrate.’ She shoos us through towards the lounge. ‘He does dither, doesn’t he dear? Sit down, sit down, anywhere you like. Oh no, not there Jake, you come and sit here with me, and we can chat about show business.’ She pats the arm of her chair.
‘Leave the poor man alone, Ruth. I’m sure he’d much rather sit next to Samantha.’ Dad manages to successfully herd Mum one way, and Jake the other. He always did enjoy watching One Man and His Dog and he’s found the positive reinforcement exercises very effective when it comes to my mother. ‘That wasn’t burning I could smell in the kitchen, was it?’
‘Burning, burning? Oh good heavens, silly me, the cheese straws! They’ll be a crisp. Samantha loves cheese straws, don’t you darling, although they aren’t on any Weightwatchers list I’ve seen. Although Marjorie says you have to take those lists with a pinch of salt, if we all stuck to those we’d waste away.’
There is a lovely silence while we listen to the oven opening and closing, and some clattering of dishes, and then my mother returns with Pringles and twiglets.
‘I think there’s something wrong with the oven again, David. You really need to have a man out, I don’t think you knew what you were doing when you looked at it last time. Never mind, I’m sure these will be lovely. Pringle, Jake?’
Jake has pulled a master stroke with the bottle of champagne. By the time Mum remembers to put supper out she is already tipsy (excellent), and very giggly and flirty (not so good), which means she seems to have forgotten about interrogating us about our relationship, which I know she fully intended on doing. Mother views her role as an advanced screening service.
‘This is amazing, a fabulous cook as well as finding time to act and look incredible.’
‘Oh nonsense.’ But I know she doesn’t mean it. Mother touches her hair self-consciously and basks in Jake’s admiration. She already loves Jake, which is a good sign. ‘Get away with you! Such a shame the black pudding disintegrated.’
‘Excellent as a crumb, what a brilliant idea! You’d pay a fortune for this in a restaurant, wouldn’t you Sam? Delicious.’
‘And the bacon was too crispy to put on, in the picture it was balanced on top of the scallop.’
‘Bacon is overrated. Isn’t it sweetie?’ He squeezes my knee and I nearly jump out of my seat, but recover enough to squeak a response. ‘And the wine is perfect, David. I bet you’ve got quite a cellar.’
Dad has never had a cellar. He has a small wine rack (the type you build yourself with dowels that collapses on a regular basis so you have to prop it up with junk) under the stairs. But he nods. ‘Very kind of you to say so, Jake. A good little find this one, might have to lay a few bottles down.’ Bottles do not ‘lay’ in my parents’ house, they are drunk.
By the time we are on dessert, I feel like a lay down though.
‘Now then, tell us how you two lovebirds met?’
I open my mouth and nothing comes out. We can’t do this yet, we haven’t talked about it. I don’t know how we met. So I pretend to chew an imaginary mouthful of bread and butter pudding.
‘Dog-walking.’ I glance at Jake in surprise. He is brilliant! It’s not technically a lie.
‘But Samantha hasn’t got a dog, have you?’ Mum doesn’t think it sounds so brilliant, she looks at me accusingly, as though there is something else I have kept secret.
‘No, but—’
‘She’s not that good with dogs, not quite assertive enough, the man at the training class said when we took our spaniel.’
‘I was four, Mum! You only made me take him because he embarrassed you!’
‘Well, she is absolutely brilliant with dogs now, Ruth. They gave her one of the most badly behaved dogs at the rescue centre, they could see she knew what she was doing. Putty in her hands, he was.’
‘Putty?’ Mum looks confused.
Putty is not a word I’d use in describing Tank. Ever.
‘Putty. Never seen this dog so well-behaved, and I’ve been helping out at the centre for years.’
‘Well, that’s nice, isn’t it David?’
‘Excellent. Brandy, Jake?’
‘So you help out at a dog rescue centre? Aww isn’t that kind of you, I can tell you’re kind, you’ve got a kind face. Hasn’t he, David?’
I can tell she is quite drunk, there are far too many ‘kinds’ in that sentence.
Jake has settled for a very small brandy with his coffee, and I have settled for the ‘lovely exotic drink that I’ve just discovered, so fruity and foreign’ that mother insists I try. It tastes suspiciously like Cointreau.
‘Now isn’t this nice?’
It actually has been quite nice. My parents both love Jake, and he has said all the right things and looked like he has meant them.
He has also chatted about his work at the rescue centre (I didn’t realise quite how dedicated he is), his wonderful mother (who he clearly loves), and the gran he adores (he pops in at least three times a week to check she’s okay). And when mother mentions Liam, he brushes it away with a slightly contemptuous look on his face. ‘That man sounds an absolute idiot, he doesn’t deserve somebody as lovely as your daughter. And—’ he smiles at me ‘—he sounds far too boring for Sam, no fun at all.’
‘Hear, hear.’ My father nods in agreement. ‘I always suspected the man was a waste of space, weak he is. Weak.’
I open my eyes in astonishmen
t at the minor outburst.
‘You never…’
‘Not our place to comment, my dear, and I have to admit at first I thought the lad was a good ‘un like his brother Dan. But I, for one, was glad to see the back of him.’
‘We’ll be seeing him again soon, David.’ Mum has poured herself another fruity drink, while nobody was looking.
‘More’s the pity. I’ll give him short shrift if…’
‘Oh don’t cause a scene, Dad!’
‘You don’t need to say anything, David.’ Jake has that steely look in his eyes, they’re tawnier and less brown. Something about Liam really seems to make him cross, which I guess must be to do with him having been betrayed himself. He did say he knew exactly how I felt. ‘I’ll make sure he knows what we think.’
Oh, this is quite thrilling, my father and my boyfriend standing up for me!
‘We must meet up again.’ Mum has necked her Cointreau and is now regaining control of centre stage. ‘Before the wedding – we will take afternoon tea at that nice hotel up the road.’
I try not to roll my eyes, then catch sight of Jake – who is grinning. I grin back, it’s impossible not to.
‘We’d better go, Mum. Work in the morning.’
‘Thank you, you were great.’ Our taxi has pulled up outside my house, and Jake, ever the gentleman, has got out to hold the door, and it all feels very formal.
‘My pleasure. It was fun.’
‘Really? Oh, I suppose it was, but…’
‘Your parents are lovely.’ He smiles. ‘Just like you are.’ His lips brush over mine, gossamer light, and my mouth opens of its own accord. Waiting for the full blown kiss that never comes. ‘Night, Sam. Sleep well.’
And with a brief wave of his hand, he climbs back in the taxi. I watch the tail lights until it reaches the end of the road, turns and disappears from sight. Taking my knight in shining armour with it.
I hug my arms round myself and realise I’m smiling.
This wedding is going to be brilliant!
The Wedding Date Page 9