Something Borrowed

by Louisa George

  ‘Why?’

  ‘If it’s going to be awkward for you. It’s hard after a breakup. Apparently.’

  ‘Apparently?’ Which was it? That he’d never had a breakup, or he’d never found one hard? What the hell?

  There was a shrug of one shoulder. ‘Yes. He hurt you.’

  ‘I’m fine. I’ve totally forgotten all about Jason.’ It was even worse that Vaughn was trying to be nice to her. Why was he trying to be nice to her? Was that how it was going to be at the wedding? Everyone carefully choosing their words and tiptoeing around her as if she was the sad old aunt who smelt of wee. As if she was the one who had to be avoided at all costs. God, how awful that would be.

  She needed to prove to everyone that she really was okay, that she’d found the courage to move on. Suddenly, brain one step behind her mouth, she found herself blurting out, ‘I’m very good, actually. Great, in fact! I’m seeing someone.’

  Vaughn’s eyes narrowed as he scrutinised her face. ‘Oh? Who? Do I know him?’

  ‘No.’ And, strangely enough, neither do I. Yet. ‘I doubt it. I may bring him to the wedding; I haven’t decided.’

  She ignored the panic that reverberated in her voice and through her body. What in hell was she doing? Inventing a man just to save face? Of all the ridiculous things she’d done, this had to be up there with the best of them. But she was damned well going to get back on that horse, or in the sack or… something. Because she couldn’t turn up at that wedding without a date and let them all think she hadn’t got over Jason. She had.

  But more, worse than being betrayed, would be the pity. From the other guests. From Jason and Amy. From Vaughn Brooks. She would not give them the satisfaction of thinking she was beaten. She was a strong woman. She was capable. She was a consummate professional. She was brave.

  Well, she was going to be.

  She turned to Vaughn and smiled, feeling a sense of purpose for the first time in forever. She was… she was like the trees she’d walked past to get here; renewed, refreshed, ready. Well, maybe not quite ready, but she was going to find a date for that wedding. She was going to hold her head up high and show them all. She was going to go to the wedding and beget more weddings and more and more. She was going to have a successful life and support her sister and her niece and her mother and anyone else who came along. She could do it. She could.

  It was time to reactivate Jenna’s Love Plan.

  JENNA

  Four years ago…

  Sender: Jennacass567@gmail.com

  Hi, Nick!

  YES! I think you should definitely propose to her! She’d be an idiot to say no. Let me know every detail. Every single one!

  Of course, I’m speaking through rose-tinted glasses. We had a wonderful day. Sorry you couldn’t make it, but I didn’t really expect the army to let you out just to see me get married! There are photos online if you want to take a sneaky peak. I’ll put the link in at the end of the email. It was all just perfect, apart from the rain just as we were having the photos taken, but I didn’t let that spoil it.

  We had a honeymoon in Crete, which was gorgeous apart from Ollie getting food poisoning. The only time we left the resort, he got sick. Typical! We spent the rest of the holiday in bed… but then we’d spent the first part in bed too (I know, too much information! Sorry!). The weather was great; it was sunny every day, and we had a nice balcony with a lovely view, so when he was ill, I often just sat out and stared out into a deep blue sky and thought how lucky I was to be there with him.

  I imagine your life is so very different out there in a war zone. I can’t imagine what it must be like.

  It’s fine if you can’t write often. Really, I understand. Special ops sounds very exciting. Are you like James Bond? (Although, I hope, without the tuxedo! If you’re having to sleep in mud at times, you’d ruin it!). I’d be so scared with all those mortar attacks going on around me; I’d be just waiting for one with my name on it. I guess you can’t think like that. How do you manage? You must be on edge the whole time.

  We’re just rolling into summer here too. Although a British summer is hardly as hot as where you are somewhere out there in the desert. We managed one decent sunny day last week, and the whole of London suddenly got summer fever. So many white legs and fake tan disasters! We tried to organise a barbecue for the weekend, but as always, we ended up cooking under an umbrella. This must all seem boring to you, but in your last email, you said you liked to hear about everyday things. I hope you’re not falling asleep reading this.

  Anyway, I must go… I’ve got to go to the chemist and get home before Ollie… I have… Oooh, I shouldn’t tell you. No, I won’t. I can’t tell you yet. I have to tell him first.

  Maybe in my next email I will have some exciting news! ;-)

  Stay safe, Nick, and good luck with the proposal!

  Jenna x

  CHAPTER 4

  ‘WHAT’S HIS NAME, then?’ Jenna asked, her eyes all-agog with vicarious excitement as she leaned over in the manicurist’s chair and nudged Chloe.

  ‘Carl. Or rather TheBigCarlhuna, according to his profile.’ Chloe tried to hide her mortification from her sister and the two nail artistes giving them the pedi part of the mani-pedi. But she could tell, just by the way the young girls at their feet glanced at each other with unconcealed mirth in their eyes, that she was going to be the topic of conversation later. She’d only brought Jenna here to use up the voucher she’d been gifted at her hen party… maybe she should have just let it expire along with her love life. ‘Believe me, he is the best of a bad bunch of today’s Special Love Matches. And I’m staying well away from StiffRoger, who seems to pop up way too often. All puns intended.’

  Buoyed by potential ex-shaming and the need to prove herself to smug Vaughn, she’d plucked up the courage, reactivated her matchyou.co.uk membership and perused the sappy love heart surrounding her profile with renewed interest. She’d picked a couple of guys who looked interesting and arranged a meeting with the only one who answered her coy message of, ‘hi’. It was hardly the most profound thing she’d ever written, but TheBigCarlhuna had answered with a smiley face, and thus, it had begun.

  ‘And how do you feel about this… date?’

  ‘It’s just a coffee, seriously. How bad can it be?’ About as bad as any very bad thing ever. But she’d arranged it now, and it was the only way she was going to get a plus-one for the wedding, unless she took up her mum’s suggestion of the dandruff-ridden funeral director. No, thank you. Chloe looked down at her toes. ‘So, what’s the score with this nail varnish malarkey? Age old dilemma: do you have the same colour on your fingers as your toes?’

  ‘You can have a different colour on each damned digit if you like.’ Jenna handed her the plastic colour sample swatches with so many colours Chloe didn’t know where to start. It was aeons since her last first date, and once she’d got engaged and fallen into a settled routine, her interest in such things as painting nails had been overtaken by house buying and mortgages and wedding planning. ‘What do you know about this Carl guy? How do you know he’s not an axe murderer? What does he look like? For that matter, what do axe murderers look like? When you see their profiles on TV, you always think he looks like an axe murderer, how did nobody know? But probably, being their neighbour or something, you wouldn’t guess they had it in them. Such a lovely man, used to feed my cat… Bit of a loner…’

  ‘Oh, now’s really not the time to throw that at me, Jenna. I’m only at this point because of you, but I don’t think matchyou.co.uk allows axe murderers to sign up. I’m sure it’s part of their terms and conditions. I’ll check his pockets for axes, shall I?’

  ‘Don’t go anywhere near his pockets on a first date.’ Jenna laughed, then wriggled as her pedicure reached the tickle foot massage part. But, suddenly, she was dead serious. ‘Just be careful, okay?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘No dark alleys or wide-open spaces where he could bury a body. Don’t go anywhere with him alone.�
�

  ‘Well, wow, you’re quite the merchant of doom.’ But Chloe’s courage took a little nosedive. Maybe dating was a bad idea after all. No—she wasn’t dating; she was interviewing for a plus-one role. Although, in Jenna’s eyes, if Chloe wasn’t just about to be done away with, she was going to find fun and fall in love with love again… Or something. It was all in the framing. ‘Oh, God, I don’t know what the rules are these days. The last time I went on a first date was nearly ten years ago. I’m well out of practice. And anyway, I thought with all these dating apps, people went straight to sex and cut out the middle bit?’

  Jenna sighed. ‘Don’t ask me. I wouldn’t have a clue. I’m so glad it’s not me doing it.’

  You should, Chloe thought, looking at her beautiful sister, all pink-faced and smiling her pretend-happy smile. Maybe dating would rub the sad part off at least just a little. But she knew Jenna wouldn’t hear of it. Flatly refused.

  The thing was, whilst Chloe didn’t believe that love was enough to keep two people together, Jenna believed she’d had her one chance for life, and no one would ever be as good as Ollie. And Chloe didn’t want to stress her sister, so she let it drop. She contemplated the swatches in her hand. ‘Okay, virginal white or vampy red?’

  Jenna looked thoughtful. ‘Red. With some artwork? Stripes? Flowers? Have you chatted him?’

  ‘Chatted him? Is that an actual verb now? Yes, we talked a little on the video link thing.’ This was so bloody hard. ‘It’s like window shopping and being window-shopped. There’s no romance in it, not like the golden days of seeing someone across a crowded room and taking a chance. The shy but slow burn of a fledgling love.’ When only TheBigCarlhuna had responded to her messages, she’d had no choice but to go with the video link flow. ‘To be honest, I was starting to feel like I was the coffee cream on the pick and mix stand, the one people only choose when there’s nothing else left.’

  Jenna frowned. ‘You’re not the coffee cream, lovely sister of mine. You’re… you’re the Valrhona of the pick and mix stand, the Cadbury creme egg—original version, naturally. You’re the best damned chocolate in the universe. Just remember that when you’re talking to him.’

  I am Valrhona. Dark, mysterious and delicious. For the first time since this whole debacle began, Chloe laughed. ‘I’m sure he’ll be fine, and if not, I can make a quick getaway, right? Text me fifteen minutes in and I can use you as an excuse if I need to. Yes, I like the red, it makes me feel adventurous, but I’m not sure I’m up to art as well.’

  Her sister scrutinised the handiwork. ‘You’re probably right. I like the plain red; it’s forthright without being in your face. So, after you’ve been with him a few minutes, nip to the loo and text me that you’re okay, just a thumbs up or down. And leave your find-a-friend app on so we can trace you if needs be… You know, if you…’ She did a slashing motion with her fingers across her throat.

  ‘Gee, thanks… I’m really feeling the trust vibes here. I’ll be fine. Really. He’s a musician, and he’s two years older than me. He seems nice, with a kind of overly zealous smile and a soft voice. Mostly we just murmured. God, it was embarrassing. I think he was more nervous than I was. What the heck are we supposed to say? I can’t remember how to flirt.’ And then there might be a kiss… and maybe more? She was bonkers for doing this. ‘What if he wants more? What if he doesn’t? What if he hates me? Aaargh! It’s so much easier staying in and binge-watching box sets.’

  But that wouldn’t get her a date for the wedding. And not going would mean she took a risk on drumming up more clients. So she was stuck with it.

  Maybe she could get a date-by-mail order? Was that really even a thing? Tick-boxing all the right attributes: tall, dark, and handsome. Messy hair. Dark, haunted eyes…

  And then that thought took her on a strange trail that ricocheted from her own wedding and back to yesterday at Vaughn’s, and the strange tummy-tumbling thing started to happen all over again. And that was enough to convince her that she needed to be focused on the coffee this afternoon and not thinking about the best man shenanigans, because all that did was produce anxiety.

  Jenna did that sisterly thing of patting Chloe’s arm. ‘Just be yourself, honey. TheBigCarlhuna will love you.’

  ‘The new me with the gel nail varnish and freshly manicured lady garden? Instead of bitten to the quick fingernails and… well, let’s just say it’s been a while since anyone’s been down there.’

  ‘You’re having a bikini wax? Today?’ Her sister jerked around and then stilled as her nail artiste pulled her foot back towards the bubbling foot spa and tsked. ‘And you’re meeting him tonight?’

  ‘Sure. Why not?’ No big deal. It was just a tidy up.

  ‘Your thighs are going to look like a freshly plucked chicken. What on earth were you thinking?’

  ‘I wasn’t thinking anything. I met the guy online this morning. I don’t intend for him to go anywhere near there; it was more just for a confidence boost.’ Chloe sighed. ‘To be honest, I need more than a bikini deforestation to make me feel up to meeting a man. What if he’s horrible? Worse, what if he isn’t? What then? Because it’s all well and good trying to find someone, but what if I really like him? What if I fall in love with him, deeply, honestly, totally, and then what if this new man, The One, the love of my life—?’

  ‘I thought that was Jason.’

  ‘What if the love of my life, version two, does a runner too?’ What then for her heart? ‘I can’t cope with another Jilting.’

  ‘I think you’re getting way ahead of yourself, Chlo. It’s just a little fun and finding a plus-one.’

  ‘No, of course. You’re right.’ It was nothing at all to do with falling in love.

  After the mani-pedi, Chloe confirmed the get-out-of-date-quick texting plans, kissed Jenna goodbye and made her way to the waxing salon for what she anticipated was going to be one of the probably many excruciatingly painful experiences of the day. Trying to flirt with a murmuring musician would be small fry after this.

  ‘Hey, love, pop these on.’ The beautician threw a packet onto the very bright pink therapy table in the overly pink room. ‘Just going to wash my hands. I’ll be back in a mo’.’

  Chloe picked up the packet. This was the first time she’d visited Smooth, preferring to go somewhere new so she wouldn’t have to relive her embarrassing past with Michelle, her usual beauty therapist. The last time she’d seen her was the day before the wedding.

  Big mistake. Michelle never threw packets at her. She was more the hoik yourself up on the table and let’s get on with it kind of beauty therapist. She definitely didn’t have hot pink decor, leopard print wallpaper and a beehive hairstyle.

  Sensing she was going to be way out of her comfort zone in more ways than one, Chloe tore the packet open and found two pieces of paper joined together by two pieces of string.

  Ooookaaay. How would she ‘pop’ these on? They didn’t look suitable for any part of her anatomy; there was a square of paper, string, then another smaller square, more string… nothing to give her any clue as to where it would fit. A hair protector for when she lay down? Did the string go over her ears? It didn’t look big enough for anything else. Certainly not a thigh. Or two. Definitely not her bottom. ‘Er… Shona… Sheena… Sheila?’ Oh, why hadn’t she paid attention when the woman had introduced herself? ‘Hello?’

  ‘Ready, love? Right.’ Shona/Sheena/Sheila bustled back into the room and came to a sharp halt, making a pursing shape with her lips and staring hard; dark blue pupils popped in bloodshot white. Chloe guessed it was a botoxed attempt at a frown, and it was peering at the paper thing. ‘Oh. You just want a straight Brazilian, then?’

  ‘What? No! I just didn’t know what to do with this?’ Chloe held out the paper… thing. ‘What’s it for?’

  ‘It’s knickers, love.’

  ‘But I have some on. Thank you, anyway. And these don’t look remotely like—’

  ‘Knickers. Love.’ Sheena/Shona/Sheila regarded h
er for a minute, again with the deer in the headlights stare, wide and a little wild. She slowly shook her head and sighed, long and deep. Then, she spoke as Chloe often did to little Evie… carefully enunciating, ‘Is this your first time? Really? Where have you been? Mongolia? Because I’m sure they have grooming there too. Never mind. We’ll work around it. Now. Hop. Up.’

  ‘No… I’ve just never been given… oh, never mind.’ After wriggling her lovely favourite electric blue wool skirt up to her waist, Chloe lay on the bed. And no, having someone peruse her lady garden never got any easier, stranger or not. ‘Short, back and sides, please,’ she said, attempting a joke to cut the icy atmosphere.

  ‘Hmm.’ Sheena/Shona/Sheila looked for a few seconds at Chloe’s nether regions, the dying whale muzak in the background clearly having no calming effect on her mood as she sighed irritatedly. Her head popped up. ‘First date?’

  ‘What? How did you guess?’

  ‘It’s a bit busy down here. Not been getting any action? Know what I mean, right? Ha, ha!’ She tucked tissue paper into Chloe’s knicker seam and pulled her left leg into an impossibly painful position, bent at the knee, toes touching her right thigh. The hot yoga had been a whole lot easier, before she’d fainted, obviously. ‘Or were you growing it out for a reason?’

  Chloe closed her eyes and died a little inside. Over the last three months, she’d had more on her mind than waxing. ‘No, I’ve just been… busy.’

  ‘Well, good news is, you have enough fluff to make a lovely shape. You want a shape? I can do hearts, a star. No? A landing strip? I’ve got bling if you want? You want some vajazzle?’ The Sh lady gave her first genuine smile of the consultation, clearly convinced she was dealing with a halfwit. ‘What’s his name, love? I could do his initial.’

  Good God. No. No man was worth this. Ever.