A Funny Thing About Love

by Rebecca Farnworth

  This was going beyond their usual flirtation and Carmen suspected she was supposed to come back with something equally smouldering but instead she squeaked out, ‘Hey, Lottie, when we are eating? I’m starving!’ Food was the last thing on her mind but she had to say something to break the spell.

  Lottie looked at her watch. ‘I’ve booked the table for eight. Drink up.’

  On the way to the restaurant Lottie once again organised everyone so they were walking ahead of Will and Carmen. Honestly! The woman was unstoppable in her mission, the matchmaking equivalent of a Panzer tank.

  ‘So, is there anyone else I should know about who you’ve kissed?’ Will asked, going back to dangerous territory.

  ‘I never kiss and tell,’ Carmen batted back. ‘Well, except about Connor and Sean. But no, Will, I haven’t seen anyone since I split up with my husband. I’m thinking of entering a nunnery so long as I can shop, drink wine, read Grazia and see my friends – oh, hang on, that is my life!’

  ‘Was it an acrimonious split?’ Will stumbled over acrimonious – he was definitely on the wrong side of sober.

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t exactly say it was amicable, though we get on okay now, so long as we don’t see each other.’ Carmen would rather talk about kissing Connor than her failed marriage. That was like opening the chamber of secrets and she really didn’t want to go there. There would be no good outcome, no happy ever after.

  Usually Will never asked such personal questions, but alcohol had clearly liberated him from his usual caution and his next question completely floored Carmen: ‘So why did you split up?’

  For a moment she was speechless, then she said quietly, ‘I know we have this banter thing between us where we laugh at each other and flirt, but I can’t talk about this. Really, cannot talk about it.’ She was genuinely rattled now, the fizz of lust replaced with the all-too-familiar feeling of bitter anguish.

  Will seemed to realise he’d overstepped a line. He lightly touched her arm. ‘Sorry, Carmen.’ He was serious for once, looking at her intently. ‘I guess I want us to move beyond our banter.’

  Just a few minutes ago Carmen would have said exactly the same, but right now his questions about her marriage had made her clam up, fold in on herself. ‘Sure,’ she said curtly. ‘Let’s catch up with the others. I don’t want Dirty Sam speculating about what we’re up to.’ And she walked briskly towards her friends.

  Rico’s restaurant was downstairs from the café. It was small with just ten tables, decked out with red-and-white tablecloths. Italian flags adorned the walls, along with black-and-white photographs of Sophia Loren and various players from AC Milan. It was unpretentious and the food was delicious. Mamma Mia adored Will and in his honour had decorated the entire restaurant with balloons. There was even a silver-and-blue banner emblazoned with ‘Happy birthday, Will!’ over the door. As soon as she saw him she enfolded him in a great bear hug, nearly smothering him with her formidable bosom. ‘Happy birthday, my darling boy!’

  Carmen smiled as she watched Mamma Mia fuss over Will, demanding that he order the most expensive items off the menu and insisting on pouring him a very generous glass of Barolo. Carmen had foiled Lottie’s plan to have her next to Will by sitting at the opposite end of the table to him, next to Trish and Lottie. She felt subdued and barely ate any of her penne arrabbiata, though she knew she risked incurring the wrath of Mamma Mia who would demand to know why she hadn’t finished her signature dish. Every now and then she would catch Will looking at her and she could tell he was wondering what had happened to flirty Carmen.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Lottie whispered, while Will’s attention was taken up with Dirty Sam recounting his recent trip to a lap-dancing club, which he claimed was for research for one of his clients. No one believed him.

  ‘Nothing,’ Carmen muttered. ‘Just the appraisal. It was really awful, Lottie.’ This was only partly a lie – the appraisal had been awful, it was just that the marriage question had been worse.

  ‘Forget about it!’ Lottie urged her, then checked Will wasn’t looking over as she added, ‘Will really likes you, Carmen. He spent the whole time we were in the Ship wondering where you were and then his face lit up when he saw you.’

  ‘“His face lit up”! Lottie, have you got a night job writing for Mills & Boon?’

  ‘Well, it’s classier than saying he’s got the horn for you, isn’t it?’ Lottie demanded.

  ‘Though he has as well, like a massive—’

  ‘Lottie!’ Carmen cut in. ‘You’re not supposed to know about such things, let alone talk about them!’

  Lottie shrugged. ‘I can still appreciate the male form objectively, and I imagine Will has a very fine male form.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Will demanded from across the table. Mamma Mia was continuing to pour Barolo into his glass as if it was Ribena.

  ‘Your member, actually.’ Carmen couldn’t resist it. It was too perfect a comedy moment, even sunk into a decline as she was.

  She got a disconcerted look from Will in return.

  ‘Lottie reckons you’ve got a fine one. And yes, I know it sounds as if we’re objectifying men, but she started it. And as she’s gay I think she’s probably allowed to.’

  Dirty Sam had been eyeing up a female diner on another table, but he pricked up his ears. Any whiff of talk about sex and he was in like a Jack Russell down a foxhole. ‘What did you think of mine, then?’

  ‘Sorry, we didn’t get that far,’ Carmen replied, regretting her cocky comment if it was going to get Dirty Sam all excited.

  ‘Well, we could do a comparison now.’ He took a quick look round the restaurant. ‘Come on, Will, stand up. I reckon I could take you any time.’

  This was precisely why Carmen usually avoided going anywhere with Dirty Sam where alcohol was served, because when drunk he invariably wanted to drop his trousers. His hand was actually on his fly right now. Carmen put her head in her hands, but before Dirty Sam could flash the room, Mamma Mia appeared and said in a booming voice, ‘Samuel, sit down and don’t even think about what you were about to do if you ever want to come into my restaurant again. And that includes the café. There will be no more bacon butties for you.’

  Suitably chastened, Samuel sat down. But as soon as Mamma Mia was out of earshot he said, ‘Mine’s bigger than Will’s, I swear.’

  Everyone ignored him and started talking about Lottie’s recent trip to Goa.

  A few minutes later the lights dimmed and an expectant hush fell in the restaurant. On cue Mamma Mia walked across the room, stately as a galleon, bearing a chocolate birthday cake blazing with candles and sparklers, and everyone burst into a raucous rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’. Will looked faintly mortified but still made a big show of blowing out the candles and giving Mamma Mia yet another hug and a kiss.

  ‘So, what did you wish for?’ Lottie asked him, just after he had cut into the cake.

  ‘He can’t tell you!’ Trish exclaimed in genuine outrage. ‘Or it won’t come true.’

  Carmen smiled at Trish and as she did so caught Will looking at her – a searching look, and one that she couldn’t hold right now.

  Mamma Mia insisted everyone have a glass of Strega on the house. It was a strong Italian liqueur and an acquired taste in Carmen’s opinion – on a par with glugging a glass of petrol – but no one wanted to risk upsetting Mamma Mia, so they all raised a glass to her and knocked it back.

  At midnight Lottie took charge of asking for the bill, overruling Will’s comment that he should pay, even though Dirty Sam, who was mean as well as filthy, perked up at the suggestion. Then, with a few last hugs from Mamma Mia, the party were out in the cool September air where, in one last, desperate match-making act, Lottie corralled the others, leaving Carmen and Will alone, and practically frogmarched them towards Oxford Street before anyone could protest.

  Carmen made to follow them, but Will put his hand on her shoulder. ‘Stay with me a minute. I want to talk to you. I really didn’t
mean to upset you earlier.’

  ‘You didn’t, it’s fine,’ Carmen lied.

  ‘I don’t believe you, but I think you’re not going to tell me.’ He put his other hand on her other shoulder. ‘You know, there was one thing you forgot to do today.’

  Carmen looked blank.

  He drew her closer. ‘You forgot to give me a birthday kiss. I’ve had one from Trish, Lottie, Christina, and even Daisy kissed me, and you know how she feels about physical contact; I’ve had about twenty-five from Mamma Mia, but not a single one from you. And you’re the only person I’ve wanted to kiss all day.’

  Wow! Even in her present state of decline Carmen was not immune to such a comment – her stomach went into free fall and the hyperactive butterflies started flapping again. Despite this, she checked her watch, desperately trying to play it cool. ‘It’s not your birthday any more.’

  ‘You’re so picky, Miller, but you’re not going to get away with it. I demand my birthday kiss.’ And before she could stop him he had steered her into the doorway of Ryman’s, which wasn’t the most romantic location ever, unless you had a fetish for office stationery, but it didn’t matter, as there in the soft blue glow of the lights he took her in his arms and kissed her. And it was a very good kiss. A firm, sexy kiss that demanded the same response back. A kiss that almost made Carmen forget all the horrible things about the day – and oh, how she wanted to. But the chamber had been opened, some of the bad stuff had leaked out and she couldn’t ignore it.

  ‘That was a good kiss,’ Will murmured. ‘D’you know where I want to go now?’

  Carmen shook her head and stepped out of his arms.

  ‘So you think that was a bad kiss!’ Will exclaimed.

  ‘It was a good kiss, but here’s where it ends tonight.’ And in a very rare moment of serendipity, because usually it took her ages to get a cab, Carmen saw a black cab hurtling down Great Portland Street with its light on and she successfully hailed it. Retreat was essential now.

  3

  Mamma Mia clearly didn’t need much sleep, as she was at her place by the till at quarter past nine when Carmen walked into Rico’s the following morning. At least she wasn’t hungover, but her head was all over the place as she struggled to process the events of last night, specifically that kiss. That kiss that burned into her consciousness; it had been so beguiling, so enticing. So, so sweet. That kiss threatened to be her undoing.

  ‘Ciao, Carmen,’ Mamma Mia greeted her, then made a big deal of looking around. It didn’t take rocket science to work out the meaning of the look.

  ‘Will’s not with me, Carla,’ Carmen replied. Ignoring the curiosity on Mamma Mia’s face, she turned to Rico and placed her usual order. She was just about to leave the café when Mamma Mia appeared beside her – for someone so large she could certainly move quickly and stealthily when she wanted.

  ‘Carmen, you must realise that Will is in love with you,’ she declared theatrically. ‘I know it as clearly as if he had told me. I feel it here,’ at this she planted her plump hand over her heart. Perhaps Mamma Mia was still drunk from all the Strega she’d consumed the night before.

  Carmen tried not to show how surprised she was. ‘We’ve just got a flirtation going on, an office romance.’

  Mamma Mia shook her head emphatically. ‘You feel it too, I know you do. You felt it when you kissed him last night, under the blue lights.’

  OMG, Mamma Mia really was psychic! Carmen looked at her in awe but Rico piped up from behind the counter, ‘She saw you on the CCTV monitors last night. We’ve got them in the office as part of the neighbourhood watch scheme. We can pretty much see the whole of Great Portland Street.’

  Never mind Big Brother watching you, it was Big Mamma!

  Carmen raised an eyebrow, then simply said, ‘Ciao,’ and marched purposefully out of the café. She slowed as soon as she was a little way down the street, suddenly feeling incredibly nervous about seeing Will again. The butterflies were up to their old tricks.

  Daisy did an unsubtle double take when she saw Carmen walk into the foyer alone. ‘We did not spend the night together, Daisy. Will you please let everyone know?’ Carmen said as she walked past her.

  ‘As if I ever pass on gossip!’ Daisy said in outrage. Carmen glared at her, but Daisy was now taking a call. ‘Good morning, Fox Nicholson, how can I help you?’ she said in a sing-song, insincere voice (subtext: Why don’t you just fuck off and leave me alone to play on Grand Theft Auto?)

  Carmen took the lift, and as she got out at her floor and tried to walk nonchalantly towards her office she felt as if she had a large sign pinned to her back: ‘I kissed Will and I liked it!’ Her nervousness increased as she drew near his office and she steeled herself for the encounter. But Will wasn’t there. Damn! It would have been better to get seeing him out of the way sooner rather than later, otherwise she was bound to obsess about it all day.

  She sat down and switched on her MacBook, but there was no chance of any peace as one by one Lottie, Christina and Trish all found excuses to troop into her office and interrogate her. Dirty Sam was the last to just happen by. ‘So, good night, Carmen?’ he said, leaning against her door frame.

  Carmen tried to fob him off. ‘It was great, wasn’t it? Mamma Mia does a mean penne arrabbiata, doesn’t she?’

  Dirty Sam was not to be deflected. ‘Will seemed to have a good time didn’t he?’

  ‘You’ll have to ask him.’

  ‘Well, I thought you might know after last night. Did the birthday boy get his wish?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘I think you do, Carmen. Come on, give it up for Sam.’

  He was insufferable! Carmen shook her head. ‘No idea.’ But then, as Dirty Sam was about to head off, she called out, ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Sam, I kissed him but that was it. I didn’t sleep with him, so can you please tell everyone so I can get on with some bloody work?’

  ‘Didn’t sleep with whom?’ Matthew wandered into her office.

  ‘Oh, Matthew, not you as well! Will, I didn’t sleep with Will Hunter, okay?’ She had raised her voice. Probably the entire corridor had heard her.

  ‘Well, that seems to have cleared that up, doesn’t it?’ Matthew said drily. He looked especially dapper today in a navy-blue pinstripe three-piece suit, complete with a violet orchid buttonhole. He always wore a suit, but this seemed extra smart.

  ‘Let’s forget I said that,’ Carmen groaned. ‘Anyway, you look particularly lovely. Is someone getting married? Are you being presented with an award for being such a super-fantastic silver fox agent?’

  Matthew gave a wry smile. ‘Not exactly.’ He paused and adjusted the buttonhole. ‘I wanted to let you know before the management meeting, where I’ll announce it formally, that I’m resigning. This is my farewell-cruel-world suit.’

  Carmen looked at Matthew in total astonishment. He loved his job, loved the company, which he’d founded. It was his life. ‘Why on earth are you doing that? You’re too old for a midlife crisis!’

  ‘I suppose I should take that last comment as a kind of backhanded compliment,’ Matthew replied, folding his long, thin body into the chair opposite Carmen’s desk. ‘It’s time for me to go, Carmen; I can’t fit in with these new people. Penny’s online furniture business is going well and we’re lucky to have a fairly decent pension. I’d like to leave while I still have fond memories of the company. I simply can’t go on like this, with Tiana on my back every two minutes, wanting to know about figures. It’s all spreadsheets this, projections that, it’s sucking the life blood out of me. I’ve been drinking too much, you must have noticed.’

  Carmen thought back to the day before, when Matthew had been lying drunk on his sofa, and it wasn’t the first time that she’d gone to his office and discovered that he was half-cut. In spite of the dapper suit, Matthew looked exhausted, a man at the end of the line, with huge bags under his eyes that a small hamster could have cheerfully slept in.

  Carmen
gave a heartfelt sigh. The thought of work without Matthew’s wit, kindness and emergency bottle of red wine was a deeply unattractive one. How much longer could she go on herself ? She knew she wasn’t ruthless enough to be a really successful agent, but Matthew had always protected her, seeing other qualities in her. However, on the basis of her appraisal, Tiana saw the lack of ruthlessness as a weakness and a failing.

  ‘What will you do?’ Carmen asked. ‘You promise you won’t drink yourself to death?’

  Matthew made the cub scout salute. ‘I promise. I’m actually going to finally pull my finger out and write a novel. I’ve only been thinking about it for the last thirty years. Procrastination is my middle name. And I’m going to be on your case, demanding to see the next episode of your sitcom. I love what I’ve read so far. You’re a really good comic writer, with a great ear for dialogue and brilliant grasp of character. Don’t let this place bleed you dry.’

  At this, Trish poked her head round the door, blasting the room with geranium. ‘Sorry, guys, the meeting’s about to begin and Tiana has asked me to get everyone together.’

  Matthew stood and held himself straight up to his impressive full height of six foot three. ‘Those who are about to die salute you,’ he said ironically, raising his hand.

  ‘I’d have felt a whole lot better if you’d said, “At my command unleash hell”,’ she replied, as they both began walking towards the boardroom.

  ‘We can’t all be Russell Crowe in Gladiator, Carmen. I would look bloody awful in a leather miniskirt.’

  At the mention of Russell, Carmen got a dreamy look in her eye; she did have a thing about the actor. Then she pulled herself together. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, surveying Matthew’s long legs. ‘There’s probably a niche market for spindly-legged men in leather skirts. I can google it later if you like.’

  Carmen was sure it was entirely deliberate that Tiana was sitting on one side of the vast, glass-topped table coolly looking out at all her employees. Will, as her deputy, was sitting at her right. Carmen suddenly felt shy. He caught her eye and gave the briefest of smiles before looking down at his notes. Maybe he felt embarrassed about last night. To hide her discomfort, Carmen joked to Trish, ‘Do you think she’s going to do a “Suralan” and tell us we’re fired?’