Still Thinking of You

by Adele Parks

  ‘Incredible.’

  ‘He always wanted to join the civil service.’

  ‘Incredible,’ repeated Tash, but this time she spluttered into her coffee.

  ‘He’s not just a paper pusher. He’s involved with all sorts of important stuff.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘I’m not sure if I really know,’ admitted Rich with an apologetic grin. He shrugged, and added, ‘I don’t think divorcing Sophie was on the list.’

  The gang and Rich had history.

  Tash and Rich didn’t have much history, but they were now looking forward to their future, so Tash was desperate to meet these people that were important to Rich, and she wanted them to become important to her, too. She had found Rich’s descriptions of his mates a little inadequate, more thumbnail sketches, really. But men never gave the sort of detail women liked. She didn’t care about the things he told her – the professions of their fathers and where they lived – she wanted to understand the essence of these people. She filled in the details with wishful thinking. She expected that the guys would be like Rich (although not as cute), they’d be charming and clever and funny and sporty. And she imagined that Kate and Mia would be like huge treasure chests – not only would they have interesting nuggets of information on Rich, but Tash just knew that she’d have two brand-new best friends as well.

  Rich decided to throw a dinner party to get everyone together and to celebrate their engagement. Despite his friends agreeing that it was a ‘fabulous idea’ and that they ‘couldn’t wait to meet Tash’ and were ‘almost breathless with anticipation’, it took six weeks to coordinate diaries and finally fix a date that was mutually convenient. Tash didn’t understand the problem; when her friends wanted to get together they just did so. They shopped, or played CDs and drank tea together. They didn’t have to coordinate diaries, and nor did they do anything elaborate in terms of catering. Usually they’d order a takeaway; often they’d make do with a packet of Kit Kats. Still, people did things differently, and she was cool with that. Life would be dull if everyone were the same. After all, it was exciting and out of the ordinary, throwing a proper dinner party with napkins and three courses, and separate wine glasses for red and white wine. And while Tash was a little bit daunted by the fact that she felt like her mum, as she arranged flowers and put shiny, black olives into a little bowl, she took comfort in the fact that Rich was acting like her dad. He’d spent the afternoon washing his car, and now he was decanting red wine to allow it to breathe. Tash wasn’t fond of olives; she didn’t really believe anyone was. It was her secret belief that people trained themselves to like olives because they were supposed to be sophisticated. Olives were the thirty-something equivalent to learning to smoke or having your ears pierced. So she bought a multi-pack of Walkers crisps from the garage, just in case.

  Tash took great pains in selecting her outfit for the dinner party; after all, it was sort of her engagement party. She’d dismissed the idea of keeping on her old pair of jeans and a T-shirt, the outfit she’d normally slob about in on a Saturday night, as Rich had spent nearly 200 quid in Tesco and a further fifty in Majestic Wine. This evening wasn’t a slob-out type of affair.

  It had been a very warm day and Tash was feeling 100 per cent summer, so she changed into a floaty, floral dress and painted her toenails a pretty pink to match. She looked in the mirror in Rich’s bathroom. Typical boy, he didn’t have a full-length mirror anywhere in his house, so she had to stand on the loo seat to get a half-decent view.

  The dress didn’t work.

  She looked like she was about to meet her boyfriend’s parents, not his mates. In fact, contrary to general expectations, when she had met Rich’s parents the whole event had been no big deal. They’d all met up for supper straight from work one night. Tash couldn’t even remember what she had worn. She just remembered having a good laugh and Mrs Tyler getting tipsy on Baileys.

  Both Mr and Mrs Tyler had fallen over themselves to be nice to their daughter-in-law-to-be. For a start she was easy to like, and secondly they were delighted that Rich had finally decided to settle down. Frankly, Tash could have had two heads and they’d still have believed that she was the best thing since the invention of the can opener. They thought this because – despite their son’s scathing dismissal of their relationship – they considered themselves very lucky and they wanted Rich to be as lucky. Neither were they the type to talk openly about their feelings all the time; it wasn’t done in their day. But they knew that they loved one another deeply, and their greatest wish was for Rich to find someone he could grow old with, someone who would take an interest in his golf handicap (however feigned), someone with a good heart who would worry about neighbours’ operations (however gory). They thought Tash fitted the bill nicely.

  Tash tried on another outfit. Tight black trousers and a crimson and purple Diesel top. She knew that Rich loved her in this get-up. And she wasn’t daft; she knew why. The trousers clung to her backside, and the top was designed so that you had to go without a bra. Which Tash could pull off with her tiny, 32A boobs – it was one of the rare occasions that small breasts were an advantage. She repainted her toes with a ruby varnish – twice because she was shaking the first time and made a real mess of them – and she carefully applied her make-up. She was ready. She checked her reflection. Cool. She looked good.

  God, it was like a first date.

  Tash wouldn’t have liked to admit it, but she was desperate for Rich’s friends to like her. It really, really mattered. Odd, because as a rule Tash wasn’t one for external endorsements. She liked herself. Of course, she occasionally looked at her waistline and had a fleeting concern that she could pinch more than an inch, but generally her confidence only plummeted at certain times of the month. Then, she would wonder just what could be done with her hair, and why her face shone like her mother’s prized and frequently polished dining table. On the whole, however, she was happy with the way she felt about herself and the world in which she lived. Crucially, she was happy before she met Rich, and now she was delirious.

  Maybe that’s what was making her so nervous.

  Tash walked downstairs and found Rich in the kitchen. He had his back to her, as he was chopping vegetables. She saw at once that he hadn’t changed and was still in his jeans and T-shirt from earlier in the day. Bugger, maybe she’d gone over the top. Rich turned to her.

  ‘Wow, you look stunning, babe,’ he said, as he pulled her towards him and started to kiss her. He broke off. ‘Are you wearing lipstick?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Shouldn’t I be?’

  ‘Well, it’s up to you, babe. Of course, you look great with full make-up and everything. I was just wondering if I’ve ever seen either Kate or Mia in lipstick.’ He paused, and shrugged. ‘I just don’t want you to feel overdressed, you know, out of place or anything.’

  Tash grabbed a bit of kitchen roll and started to rub off her lipstick. She became impatient with herself. This was ridiculous. Rich liked her in make-up. He’d often said so. More importantly, she liked herself in make-up.

  ‘Well, I won’t feel out of place, with or without my scarlet lipstick. I just thought I’d make an effort. We are throwing this dinner to celebrate our engagement,’ she muttered, peeved with Rich for his implicit criticism, and even more peeved with herself for taking notice.

  ‘Yeah, and you look great, babe. God, if we were going to a bar, you’d turn heads.’

  ‘But you don’t like what I’m wearing to meet your friends?’

  ‘No, I’m not saying that. You look very glamorous.’

  It didn’t sound like a compliment. In fact, this sounded like a disagreement. Their first. Tash wondered if she had time to nip upstairs and put on her jeans again. The bell rang. Clearly, she didn’t.

  3. Introducing Kate and Ted

  First to arrive were Kate and Ted. Tash was relieved to see that they had both made an effort and that they had dressed up, too, and she was
only a little disappointed to note that Kate and Ted’s interpretation of ‘dressed up’ was shirt and chinos for him, shirt and chinos and pearl stud earrings for her.

  Still.

  Kate and Ted both looked older than Tash had expected. If she’d seen them on the street she would have put them at late thirties or early forties. They were both rotund and, while Kate was quite short and Ted rather tall, they looked like one another. It wasn’t just that they were sporting the same outfit. They both had mid-brown hair (although Ted’s was streaked with grey and Kate’s was clearly streaked at an expensive hairdresser’s – with auburn), and they both had brown eyes and rosy cheeks. They looked wholesome.

  Tash beamed and was prepared to be impressed and to be impressive. She took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. It wasn’t easy. She’d known Rich for three and a half months now and hadn’t felt calm since they met. She’d felt exhilarated, alive, indestructible, purposeful, sexy – just bloody fantastic. It wasn’t easy to stay calm.

  ‘Ted, Kate, this is Tash. Ted is a trader, Kate is a full-time mother and, well… Tash is my fiancée,’ said Rich, shyly.

  Everyone laughed; the introductions were silly, as they all knew that much about one another, at least. Kate handed Rich a couple of bottles of wine and Tash a large box of Belgian chocolates.

  ‘Wow, that’s so generous of you.’

  ‘Well, you’ve probably been in the kitchen all day, right?’ said Kate.

  ‘No, to be honest I haven’t. I can only make so-so goulash and curries. Rich has done all the cooking.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Kate, and then she shrugged at Rich. ‘Bad luck.’

  ‘I’m not handing over the chocs, though. Possession’s nine-tenths of the law,’ Tash grinned.

  ‘Actually, it’s not,’ said Ted. ‘I studied law at university, and that’s a common misconception.’

  ‘Oh.’ Tash paused. ‘Well, OK, I’ll share them.’ She laughed quite heartily at her own joke, but she was the only one who did so, as Rich had scuttled off to pour some gin and tonics. Kate and Ted stood, smiling politely; Tash realized she was supposed to offer them a seat.

  ‘God, sit down. Don’t stand on ceremony for me. You must have visited Rich’s flat more often than I have. It goes without saying to make yourselves at home. Kick back; take off your shoes,’ offered Tash. She was, as usual, barefooted. Ted and Kate sat down on the settee. Neither of them took off their shoes, but they did hold hands, which Tash thought was sweet.

  ‘Unusually hot weather we’re having this year, aren’t we?’ said Ted.

  ‘Terrible for the gardens,’ added Kate. ‘They’re parched. Do you garden much, Tash?’

  ‘No,’ Tash confessed. ‘I live in a second-floor flat, so I don’t have a garden.’

  ‘No garden!’ Kate and Ted chorused. They looked shocked. Tash reran the conversation mentally. Had she just offered to show her new Brazilian wax? Clearly she had made a terrible faux pas.

  ‘I have a cheese plant,’ she offered.

  ‘I can’t believe we are here on time, can you, Ted?’ asked Kate.

  ‘It is unusual,’ confirmed Ted.

  ‘We’ve finally found a reliable baby-sitter. She actually turns up when she says she will.’

  ‘Oh, that’s good,’ smiled Tash. Kate knew that Tash wouldn’t have a clue just how good it was, so she pushed her point home.

  ‘It’s taken seven years.’

  ‘Bloody hell. So, give me details. Names of your kids, ages? Rich was useless when I asked him,’ said Tash.

  ‘Really? You surprise me. He is, after all, Elliot’s godfather,’ commented Kate.

  Tash blushed. She knew she’d put her foot in it. ‘Well, you know what men are like,’ she mumbled.

  ‘Our children are called Fleur, Elliot and Aurora. I really don’t like the term “kids”, except if we are talking about baby goats. They are seven, five and two.’ Kate smiled at the thought of her offspring.

  ‘Wow! I hadn’t expected your kids, er, children, to be so old. That means you were having babies when I was just twenty.’ The words were out before Tash noticed that they could be taken to be rude. Bugger. ‘I mean, I knew you were Rich’s age. If I’d thought about it, you are easily old enough to have a seven-year-old.’ Bugger. ‘I just meant you don’t look it,’ she hurried on, in an attempt to cover the gaffe, but gave up under Kate’s cool, calm stare.

  ‘You should look forward to your thirties, Natasha. They are great years,’ said Kate evenly.

  ‘Oh, I do, I do. I can’t wait to get old.’ Bugger. Bugger. Bugger. Tash fell silent. It seemed safest. No one said anything for a while, and the room was hushed except for the whirr of brains searching for polite topics of conversation.

  ‘So, what do you do, Tash?’ asked Ted, trotting out the usual London opener.

  ‘I’m a retail merchandiser, which is just a posh name for a window dresser.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That must be nice.’

  ‘Yes.’ Tash thought for a while, then added, ‘I work freelance, but have regular contracts with two or three pretty prestigious outlets. I love it. It’s creative and flexible. I like being my own boss.’ Tash wished she’d shut up and wondered why she was suddenly justifying her existence. She sounded like Miss England bidding for the judges’ approval.

  ‘Being your own boss must be very nice,’ smiled Ted. ‘I envy you.’

  ‘Yeah, well, earning millions must be very nice, too. I envy you,’ laughed Tash. Neither Kate nor Ted joined in with her laughter. Instead they looked embarrassed. ‘God, sorry, I didn’t mean to be crass. I was just joking,’ explained Tash. ‘I don’t envy you. I earn a decent-enough wage. Not that I’m saying your life isn’t enviable. I mean, it is…’ Tash gave up digging.

  ‘Don’t ask me what I did before the children were born,’ said Kate. ‘I hate that question. It implies that whatever I did before was more important and defining than bringing up children. Which I resent.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Tash. It was a good point, if a little forcefully made.

  The small talk became minuscule, then disappeared altogether. The silence stretched, and felt like a couple of weeks to Tash. She wished Rich would hurry back with the drinks; suddenly she had a really keen thirst. Tash used all her mental energy to will the door bell to ring again.

  Which it did. She almost ran to answer it.

  4. Introducing Jason and Mia

  ‘So, you must be the gorgeous Natasha. I can see why you lured Rich away from bachelorhood,’ said Jason, beaming. ‘I’m Jason, but the gang call me Scaley. You can, too, if you want.’

  ‘OK, and you should call me Tash,’ she grinned. She wondered if Jason’s nickname was something to do with his acne-pockmarked skin or whether maybe he could swim like a fish.

  ‘As in Scalectrix,’ he explained, as though reading her mind, which she sincerely hoped he couldn’t. ‘I like fast cars and gadgets and stuff.’

  ‘Mostly, he likes fast women,’ interrupted Rich, who was suddenly at Tash’s side. ‘How are you, buddy?’ The boys gave each other a manly, back-slapping hug, and Tash ‘aahhhed’ to herself. She always found guys hugging guys heart-warming. It was probably the reason she had so many gay friends.

  Tash immediately liked Jason. He burst into the sitting room and dramatically lifted the atmosphere. There were no more lulls in conversation, just plenty of chat and laughter. Jason was reputedly a massive hit with the women, and Tash understood why this would be the case. He was not in the slightest bit good-looking, as Tash had expected – he was very short, eyes a bit close together, poor skin – although he was totally charismatic, as Rich had promised. He was fun, sharp and confident, and he seemed to have an unlimited supply of gripping anecdotes. She liked his delight in his life, his work and his flat – a flat that was crammed with big-boy gadgets. He didn’t seem to take himself – or, for that matter, anyone else – at all seriously.

  ‘Mia’s late as usu
al, I suppose?’ asked Jason, pausing after amusing everyone with a story about presenting to a new client who, unfortunately for Jason, turned out also to be an old shag. It was clear that Scaley was good at laughing at himself, which guaranteed that no one else ever laughed at him, only with him. ‘Rude bint, that Mia,’ commented Jason with a playful wink. ‘Have you had the pleasure yet, Tash?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Should be interesting.’

  Before Tash had a chance to digest Jason’s comment, the door bell rang, and she went to answer it.

  ‘Hi. Mia, right?’ Tash beamed at the woman stood at the door.

  Tash and Mia swept their eyes up and down one another, quickly appraising. Mia was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. She was wearing make-up, but it was the sort of make up that men didn’t notice; powder, lip gloss, a bit of mascara. Her hair was glossy and cut into a style that somehow carried an expensive price tag. Her nails were manicured, but painted with a clear finish, no colour. She was a large girl – not fat, just broad and tall. There was something Amazonian about her. She had big, brown eyes that showed she was fun, clever and, if necessary, cunning. Her skin was creamy, flawless. A good-looking girl, definitely. More ‘well put together’, more ‘makes the most of herself’, as Tash’s mum would say, than ‘total beauty’, as Rich had said. But, lovely all the same.

  Mia spotted Rich, who was behind Tash, and her face split into the broadest Julia Roberts–style smile. Mia’s loveliness was immediately further enhanced by sexy, loose lips framing white, straight teeth. Ah, thought Tash, got you. Mia was the college goer. Men often confused that with ‘total beauty’.

  ‘Richie, my Action Man,’ Mia cried, ‘how are you?’ Mia swept past Tash without so much as a nod. ‘I’ve brought you a bottle of Merlot, your favourite and mine. Aren’t I clever?’ She hugged Rich, and plonked a huge kiss on each cheek.

  Mia walked straight into the sitting room. ‘Don’t get up,’ she instructed, as she bent to kiss the air that swirled around Kate, then Ted. ‘Ms Monopoly, Big Ted, you two look absolutely amazing.’ Her grin spread and was genuine. ‘We all have ancient nicknames,’ she added, presumably to Tash, although she didn’t look at her as she spoke. ‘Games and toys. Don’t worry if you don’t pick them up; they are very private. Don’t feel you have to use them.’