How could he bring his mistress to the most popular restaurant in town? On the night of his wedding anniversary? The man was clearly so sickened by his own disgusting extramarital behaviour that he couldn’t even do the extramarital bit properly!
Half the town was here this evening, and he knew I was going out tonight – did he think I’d be at Pizza Hut? (Okay, well, maybe. Dad still thought I was ten.)
I watched as my father straightened and searched the restaurant. Would he see Mum and leave?
Omigod. What if Mum saw Dad? On his hot date with Freya!
I half stood.
‘Tallulah?’ Ben was looking at me in astonishment.
‘Gosh, sorry. I thought I saw someone I knew.’
He laughed. ‘Wouldn’t surprise me.’
‘Oh.’ I laughed too. ‘Yeah, it’s a pretty small town. I meant someone I had to talk to.’
‘Can it wait? I’m enjoying myself here. I still don’t feel like I really know you. I don’t even know about your hobbies.’
‘I-I’m so sorry. It’ll take me just one second.’
Ben smiled politely, but he didn’t like it, I could tell. Too bad. This was critical.
I scampered after my father. He was heading straight for the men’s bathroom. Ms Homewrecker was nowhere to be seen. I grabbed the back of his shirt at the door.
‘Dad!’
‘T-Bird!’ He looked surprised. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Go home!’ I said fiercely. ‘Right now. Mum is here and I won’t have you hurting her feelings.’
‘Oh, you’re here on your date. How could I forget?’ He grinned at me delightedly. ‘Why would I hurt your mum’s feelings?’
‘Dad, I know about you and Freya.’
‘I thought you did.’ He sighed.
I couldn’t believe he wasn’t more shocked. More shamed. ‘So leave! Now!’
‘You don’t want your hot date to see your poorly father?’ He laughed bitterly. ‘Where is this guy, anyway?’
‘Dad . . . please. Listen, it’s your anniversary . . .’
‘Exactly. A big one too – twenty-one years, T. I’d hoped to get The Booth.’
I blinked at his miscalculation, but wasn’t surprised. Then wondered – was he actually meeting Mum here? Was she his hot date? An image of my mother swam into view, rumpled white hair and flowing caftans, alongside the Ms Homewrecker I’d seen my father kiss a minute ago, with her glam hair and sparkling smile.
‘I’m in The Booth,’ I said firmly, and raised a trembling finger, ready for accusation.
‘What? No. You’re too young for canoodling!’
‘Dad! I’m not canoodling!’
‘You should be at Pizza Hut. With aaaaall –’ he made a big whole-world gesture with his arms – ‘your friends.’
‘Not gonna happen,’ I hissed. ‘Go home.’
‘Where’s this Sven, then?’ growled Dad. He retraced his steps back into the restaurant and peered across the way to The Booth.
Predictably, he could see nothing.
Sirens wailed outside, cutting through the polite restaurant chatter. Something smashed in the kitchen and heads swivelled from the picture windows to the crash, then back to the windows as the flashing lights of a fire engine sped past. Voices went up a decibel, and a few people half stood in their seats for a better view, but the vehicle was gone.
I saw that Ben had stood too. He didn’t sit back down, though, but started to edge out of The Booth. Dad gasped, then clutched my arm when Ben turned to look around.
‘That’s Sven?’ he hissed.
Chapter Twenty
‘Not Sven, Ben! Ow, Dad. What’s wrong with you? He’s looking for me now. I’ve got to go. And you do too! Take your baggage and go home.’ The last sentence came out tearful and I took a few deep breaths to prevent ruining either composure or make-up.
‘I’m not proud of the situation I find myself in, T,’ Dad muttered back at me, ‘and we’ll talk about that later, but I want you to know right now that I’m not happy about you seeing Ben.’
‘Oh, now someone remembers his name!’
Something crossed Dad’s face then, and he had an old look about him that I recognised. It was like we were back where we’d been last year, before he’d started drinking like a sailor on shore leave. ‘T,’ he started, but I saw Ben coming towards me and broke away.
I headed Ben off halfway across the restaurant, and laid my hand on his forearm in what I hoped was a proprietary gesture that could be seen by my father in the wings.
‘Now I need a loo break,’ grinned Ben. ‘I’ll see you back in The Booth. Keep my seat warm.’ He winked.
I felt my entire stomach flip over, and smiled back.
Thinking quickly, I decided to take Ben at his word. I’d sit in his seat, thank you, from where I had some view of everyone else in Meat City. Everyone except Dad and Mum, though. I leaned out quickly for a wider view and my head caught the corner of Skinny Sue’s tray.
Ouch!
Oh geez.
The tray went flying and my special-agent sight slowed the crash to give me an eyeful of how carefully crafted Ben’s orange juice was, replete with little parasol and cherry on a stick. My plain-Jane bottle of water and empty glass slid into it and I shut my eyes as the whole lot landed on the floor.
I opened them and whispered, ‘Sorry!’ as Skinny Sue stared down at her white shirt stained with orange. Her eyes went slitty and mean, and I tried really, really hard not to smile.
‘Susan!’ said a fat man, waddling to the rescue. ‘Have you been on the vodka again?’ he muttered in an angry voice that carried too far, providing more entertainment for everyone still watching.
I noticed that Mum’s head had popped up over a partition. She was looking at me and gesticulating madly.
Oh, frik.
No time to lose.
I slipped past the debris and made for her table.
‘Mum?’
‘Lula – I’ve just had a call. Nothing to worry about, but I need to get home. Can you –’
My heart clenched. ‘Is it Blue?’
‘No, no, silly. I’ll explain when you get back.’ I started to say something again, but she stopped me, her hand on mine. ‘Tallulah. I want you to have a lovely time.’ She smiled conspiratorially and I rolled my eyes. ‘Can you tell your dad to get home as soon as he can?’
‘Doesn’t look like he’s coming, Mum,’ I said quickly.
‘He’ll be here,’ said Mum firmly. ‘Keep an eye out for him and let him know I’ve gone home.’
‘You sure Blue’s okay?’
‘Blue is very, very okay.’ She smiled and I believed her. ‘And Pen. Now enjoy yourself. See you later.’ She bustled out and I felt a weight lift from my shoulders.
Phew. A bit of space to deal with Dad. I glanced over at The Booth. Skinny Sue was looking put out, facing up to the fat man and pointing in my direction.
Now was not a good time to return. I’d do a circuitous route – back past the kitchen; maybe I’d see Dad and pass on the message.
It was a relief to get behind the wooden partitions that screened the bathroom and kitchen entrances and exits from the rest of the restaurant. It was quieter here, and dim. I was about to round the corner to the kitchen area when I heard Dad’s voice, very agitated.
‘You’re a loser, and I don’t want you near my daughter!’
‘Who’re you calling a loser, mate?’ came Ben’s voice, suddenly sounding belligerent.
‘Don’t call me mate!’
‘Don’t call me loser!’
Dad and Ben?
‘Stay away from Tallulah. She doesn’t need your crap in her life.’
‘I wouldn’t talk if I were you! Take a look at yourself.’
‘I’m not interested in your opinion of me.’ My father’s voice was low and very, very angry. ‘It’s my opinion of you that counts, because there’s no way my daughter is going to go out with an a–’
‘Now you jus
t hold your horses, mate! I’m not –’
DOODLIIDIIDIPPDIPIPIPDOODLEEDOOOOO. A ridiculous ring tone interrupted Ben’s angry response.
I took a chance and peeked round the corner. Dad was rummaging in his Chanel bag for his phone. He found it and flipped it open.
I couldn’t help a grin at Ben’s outraged face. He didn’t like being ignored. Dad knew what he was doing, stirring this guy up.
‘Hello, Anne darling,’ said Dad, and my hatred of him flooded back at his hypocrisy. ‘What? Okay. I’ll be right there. Love you, bye.’ He shut his phone and dropped it back into his bag. ‘I’m needed at home. I want my daughter back by eleven. AT MY FRONT DOOR. No funny business.’ He was eyeball to eyeball with Ben, who suddenly looked a little cowed. ‘And this is the last time you see her. Understand?’
‘Whatever,’ said Ben sullenly, and he swung away from Dad, back to The Booth. I saw our waitress sashay over to him immediately.
Dad now came careering round the corner, leaving in haste. He didn’t even notice me skulking in the gloom. I bit my lip, thoughts whirling.
Something had happened at home, but it couldn’t be bad if my sisters were okay. I was going to put that out of my mind. Dad had just shortened all available snogging time. Eleven p.m.? That was so unfair! Last week Pen got back at two a.m. and no one had said a word.
I stomped back to The Booth. Right. I had work to do. And if Dad disapproved of Ben, then so much the better.
‘She returns!’ laughed Ben. ‘You take playing hard to get to another level! Look, our food’s arrived.’
I sneezed. My salad had been so liberally peppered it looked like a load of volcanic rock. ‘I see you got another glass of OJ.’
‘Susan says you headbutted our drinks.’
‘Now that’s not very nice, is it?’ I replied, raising an eyebrow. Ben sliced his meat with precision and raised one in reply. Very sexy. Very, very attractive. ‘I didn’t see her there, that’s all. Did she remember my water?’
‘Nope.’ Ben laughed. ‘Please have some of my orange juice. There’s more than enough.’
‘Certainly is. She likes you – Susan.’
Ben waved his cutlery airily. ‘The one I want to charm is right here.’ He quirked both brows and I melted.
‘Uh . . .’ I replied, and sneezed again.
I picked up my cutlery and looked hard at my salad. Under the pepper, croutons covered every square centimetre of my plate. I started to move them into a tidy heap in the top left corner, scrutinising everything as I did so.
I did not trust this food.
Aha! Just as I’d thought! That! That right there! That – was not dressing. That – was saliva for sure.
‘We were talking about your hobbies?’ said Ben intently.
‘We were?’
‘Yes, I know nothing of them.’ He fiddled in his jacket pocket and when I met his eye, he flushed shyly and looked at his plate.
So sweet! I thought.
‘Mm,’ I said, ‘I like singing. Atshoo!’ Singing was socially acceptable, though Tam called my voice throaty – and not in a good way.
‘Right!’ he said. ‘I didn’t know – I mean, wow. Are you good?’
‘Not at all,’ I said, and we both laughed.
‘Is there something you like doing that you’re no good at?’ I asked him.
‘No,’ he said, and we laughed again. This was so lovely! This was worth waiting for – what others didn’t get a chance to see – how beautifully Ben’s personality measured up to his gorgeous exterior.
I looked at his lips – yummy – and then looked away quickly, but Ben had caught my glance. He dropped his knife and grabbed my hand, running his thumb in a slow circle, ever so lightly, in my curled palm. The intimacy of it took my breath away. A pity because he leaned over the table then and if I’d had oxygen in my brain I would have moved towards him and that would have been it! The first kiss!
Did it happen?
It did not.
I blame the pepper for that sneeze and fully acknowledge that being an inch away from that kind of velocity is a big turnoff.
‘I’m so sorry!’ I gasped.
‘Bless you,’ said Ben, expressionlessly wiping his face with a serviette swiped from my place setting.
He replaced my serviette and sat back.
‘I –’
‘Don’t worry about it. Listen’ – he turned to rummage in his bag (very respectable boysy satchel) – ‘could you help me out with something?’
‘Sure!’ I blurted.
‘A friend of mine is doing some research for the Science Fair and he’s running a bit behind schedule. He was supposed to get a load of questionnaires answered, but hasn’t had a good response. Could you do one for him . . .’ He rummaged some more ‘. . . It’s in here somewhere. Could you?’
‘Fill out a questionnaire for you?’
‘Pardon?’ Ben was flushed from bending over his satchel. He pulled out a wad of stapled papers. ‘Not for me. For my friend.’
‘Sure,’ I said again.
‘Don’t look at it now,’ said Ben hastily. ‘Let’s not ruin the mood.’
What mood, I thought moodily. I pushed my pepper and crouton salad away from me.
‘Should we just go?’ asked Ben, reaching for my hand again, and dropping his voice to a husky whisper. Although maybe all that blood from his food was sticking in his throat.
‘Let’s have dessert,’ I said decisively.
‘That might be a problem,’ said Ben.
‘Why?’
‘Our waitress has gone home.’
I looked at him hard. No, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kiss a bloody mouth unless it had been thoroughly cleansed by something before me. ‘We need chocolate,’ I said.
Ben grinned and nodded. ‘The lady shall get whatever she desires,’ he said, hailing the fat man across the restaurant.
Pudding had been sooo good. So, so good.
And it was such a novelty having someone interested in me. All we did was talk about me, my life, my friends. It was wonderful . . .
Then after very much chocolate mousse we took a slow amble home.
‘You’re completely different to any of the girls I’ve ever been out with,’ said Ben, taking my hand.
‘Uh-oh,’ I said, thinking, Get ready to take this on the chin.
‘I really like the way you were open about your jealousy when Susan was flirting with me,’ he continued.
‘Er,’ I said, wondering how best to put my violent response to him.
‘You were very male about it. Y’know, just said what you felt. Is that a trait learned from a strong paternal figure, or is that something you’ve inadvertently learned as a child growing up in a house where the father is perhaps not so very’ – he paused – ‘manly.’
I was a little astonished. Okay, a lot astonished.
‘W-w-wha– Pardon?’ I asked.
‘Oops – too much psych talk,’ laughed Ben.
‘I can understand the psych talk,’ I said sharply. ‘I’m just thinking that my dad is actually a very masculine guy, more’s the pity.’
‘Hm,’ said Ben. ‘Okay. And your mum? She seems sweet.’
‘She has a marshmallow outside and a titanium inside,’ I said firmly. ‘And my sisters are totally different to me. We bicker lots, but actually . . .’ I warmed to the topic. It was fun putting my blood relatives under the microscope. Putting Ben straight. I didn’t want him to misunderstand the family he was getting into. (So to speak.)
‘And your friends are important to you?’
I stopped and looked at him seriously. ‘I’ve got sisters, y’know, that I love with all my heart. But my friends . . . I can tell them anything.’
‘Do you talk about your family with them? Troubles you may have at home?’
I started walking again and he fell in step beside me. It was funny he should ask that. I mean, I can tell my friends anything, but sometimes I choose not to. Like the Dad situation right now.
I didn’t want to talk to anyone about that. I wanted to fix it and make it better, then turn it into conversation. A conversation I could laugh in. That didn’t mean I didn’t think I could talk to the girls about stuff that was hurting me. I can. This just felt different. Private.
All this went through my head, but I didn’t say anything to Ben. He was great to talk to, his eyes so soulful and understanding, but the way he looked at me made me feel ever so slightly like I was under the microscope too. Silly, I thought. I gave myself a mental headshake. This was how mature people dated. Meaningful conversation. Getting to know each other. Before kissing the night away.
‘Talking with the girls? We know every one of each other’s darkest secrets,’ I said in a deep, melodramatic voice, like a narrator for one of those supernaturalist shows.
‘Do you know your family’s darkest secrets?’ asked Ben, pulling me to a stop and smiling at me from under a streetlamp. (Note all the bright and efficient town lighting in this place. Not a single corner for romance anywhere from Albert Drive to Wellington Lane.)
‘They have none,’ I said lightly.
‘Everyone’s got secrets,’ replied Ben, still smiling. ‘I hope you feel you can trust me?’
‘Sure . . .’ I started, but he interrupted by touching his finger to my lips.
My heart stopped.
Literally, folks.
I could NOT breathe.
Then, ‘Can I be really old fashioned?’ he murmured into my ear as we turned the corner of the high street.
‘Old fashioned? You want to walk me home?’ I said hopefully when he lifted his finger, keeping it poised over my mouth.
‘Of course I’m going to walk you home!’ he said.
I grinned and he took my hand, pulling me close. Even though we were both wearing coats, I could feel the heat of him next to me and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get the whole way home without falling down in a faint.
Ben cleared his throat. ‘Tallulah, can I ask you a question?’
‘Yes,’ I answered in a small voice.
‘Can I kiss you?’
We were just coming into Hill Street now, under the tall trees that had dodged the moon on the night I’d been escorted home by Jack. My mouth was dry. I couldn’t answer.
Kisses for Lula Page 18