by Jill Mansell
It was pretty galling, being told to tidy yourself up by Jake—rather like Gollum suggesting your teeth could do with a scrape and polish—but when she reached the bathroom Claudia saw what he meant. The rubble in the dumpster had left a layer of grey dust over her black sweater, and her hair was thick with it too. There were twigs in her bangs and a smudge of mud across one cheek.
What a fright.
‘I’d better go,’ she said when she had made her way back downstairs.
Jake, rather touchingly, was emptying a packet of peanuts into a dish. Next to it stood a bowl of Ritz crackers.
‘Do you have to? I still don’t know why you came.’
You blind bat, can’t you see I was jealous? Why else would I leap about in a dumpster like a demented monkey? Why else would I try and climb up the outside of your house?
Claudia couldn’t say it. She gazed hard at a frayed patch of carpet and wondered why getting it together with someone you fancied had to be so fraught. Why couldn’t she make something approaching a first move? If Jake really did like her, why couldn’t he?
For a mad moment, she wondered what he would have done if she’d come back downstairs naked, if she’d just ripped off all her clothes and presented herself to him in all her wondrous glory.
But if she had, she would have looked an idiot what with all the crease marks on her stomach from wearing too-tight jeans, not to mention the whacking great bruise on her bottom.
Wondrous glory was hardly the phrase most likely to spring to Jake’s mind.
‘Here,’ he offered her the dish, ‘have a peanut.’
I’m such a failure, thought Claudia miserably.
The peanuts were stale. They tasted disgusting.
‘Come on, sit down,’ Jake urged. ‘Raiders of the Lost Ark starts in a minute. You know, with Indiana Jones.’
Indiana Jones. Wild, brave, reckless, and passionate. Claudia, her imagination running riot, wondered if some of that recklessness and passion might rub off on Jake. She sat down cautiously—ouch—at one end of the sofa.
‘You’ll be more comfortable if you stretch out,’ said Jake. ‘Put your feet up. Here, have a cushion.’
She uncurled her legs a few inches, wondering if he was inviting her to rest her feet on his lap.
‘Am I taking up too much room?’
‘Don’t worry about me. You’re the invalid. I’ll sit on the chair.’
‘Eh up,’ said Poppy at work the following week when Jake accidentally let slip that Claudia had spent Friday evening at his place. ‘I saw Claudia yesterday and she didn’t mention any of this! Come on, tell. Are we talking true romance here or what?’
‘Actually, we’re talking about watching Raiders of the Lost Ark and sending out for a Chinese. That’s all.’
‘What? Claudia hates takeaway Chinese! She calls it repulsive slop.’
Jake flushed. This explained why Claudia had left most of hers. Probably not expensive enough for her; he should have ordered a takeaway from the Savoy Grill.
‘You aren’t telling me everything,’ Poppy persisted annoyingly. Her own current state of bliss had got to her like religion. She longed for the rest of the world to be as happy as she was with Tom.
If she’d been a Jehovah’s Witness, thought Jake, he could have closed the door in her face. But she wasn’t, she was here on the stall, with an awful gleam in her eye.
‘Jake, I have to know! Did she stay the night?’
‘No!’
‘Oh well, maybe that’s too much to hope for.’ The gleam was still there. ‘How about heavy petting?’
‘Poppy, stop it.’
‘Snogging, then. You must have kissed her.’
There might not be a door to slam in Poppy’s face but there was a cash register he could bring down on her head. Taking off his glasses so at least he couldn’t see her anymore, Jake said wearily, ‘No.’
‘Not even a weeny one? On the doorstep? A good-bye peck on the cheek?’
Of course he had kissed her, a million times and a million different ways… in his dreams. All the time Harrison Ford had been swashing and buckling his way across the screen, sweeping his heroine masterfully into his arms, Jake had imagined doing the same to Claudia. The trouble was, the more he had wanted to, the more firmly he had remained welded into his chair. Crippled with uncertainty, he hadn’t dared move so much as a muscle. What if he tried it and she screamed? Or laughed? Or slapped his face?
As for the dreaded saying-good-bye-at-the-front-door scenario (surely the ultimate doorstep challenge)… well, he had been gearing himself up to it. A friendly kiss on the cheek, Jake had assured himself, wouldn’t be out of order. Not a slapping offence, at least.
But as Claudia had hovered and he had wavered, a motley crew of lads from the Crown and Feathers had been making their way noisily up the street. Spotting Jake and Claudia in the lit-up doorway they had passed by chanting, ‘Give her one, give her one, give her wo-on,’ and that had been that. Chance blown.
Hugely embarrassed, realizing he couldn’t possibly kiss her now, he had taken a step back.
With an awkward little wave Claudia had scuttled across the road to her car and driven off.
Jake looked so sad, Poppy rushed to reassure him. ‘Oh well, never mind, she was only interested in your bank account anyway. And imagine, if you married Claudia, you’d have Angie as a mother-in-law.’ She giggled. ‘She’d have your jockeys off in a flash.’
‘How’s Tom?’ said Jake, because Poppy was easily diverted these days and he didn’t want to imagine marrying Claudia.
Poppy heaved a besotted sigh.
‘What can I say? He’s wonderful. I’m so happy I could burst. The more we get to know each other, the better it gets. I’m meeting all his friends, and he’s so proud of me.’ Dreamily she shook back her hair. ‘I know it sounds sick-making, but I had no idea it was possible to feel so… so special.’
Poppy had got it bad and Jake was glad for her. He just wished it didn’t make his own life feel so empty in comparison.
Chapter 48
Tom emerged from the shower drying his dark hair with a towel. He came up behind Poppy, who was sitting cross-legged on the bed doing her eyes with the help of a shaving mirror.
‘You look gorgeous. Take that dress off.’
It was Poppy’s favorite dress, one of her charity shop bargain buys from Help The Aged. When Caspar had first seen her in it he had whistled and said, ‘Help The Aged on their way to a heart attack, more like.’
She grinned at Tom’s reflection in the mirror.
‘No time for that now. We’re supposed to be meeting your friends at eight.’
‘Dress,’ murmured Tom, unzipping it in one smooth movement, ‘off.’
‘Oh God, we’ll be horribly late.’
But instead of ravishing her body, Tom was pulling a carrier bag out of the wardrobe.
‘Surprise.’
Poppy realized he wanted her undressed for quite a different reason. He wanted her out of her short white strapless number with the flirty hem and into a far more elegant affair in navy blue crêpe, with a high neckline and below-the-elbow sleeves. It was calf-length, clearly expensive and extremely grown-up.
‘It’s beautiful,’ she said, touched by the trouble he had taken. If you didn’t count the Motorhead tee-shirt Rob had once given her for Christmas, no man had ever bought her clothes before. ‘Um… do you think it’s quite me?’
‘This one’s nice,’ Tom picked up the white dress, then pointed to the navy one Poppy was wriggling into, ‘but that one’s better.’ His dark eyes softened as she zipped herself into it. ‘There, see the difference.’
Poppy saw. She looked positively nun-like.
‘Don’t you like it?’ He sounded concerned.
Hastily she looked ecstatic.
‘Oh yes, yes! It’s just the length. I’m not used to… well, so much material.’ She kissed him. ‘All my dresses are short. But this is… it’s brilliant.’
&nb
sp; He smiled, reassured.
‘I prefer long. You’re mine, Poppy. I don’t want other men ogling your body.’
‘Sure you wouldn’t like me to sling on a yashmak?’
‘No, that’s okay. They can ogle your face.’ Tom looked amused. ‘I’d just rather keep the rest of you to myself.’
They were meeting his friends at a restaurant in Hampstead. Richard Mason worked with Tom, and his wife Anna stayed at home to look after their two children.
‘You’ll like them,’ Tom assured Poppy. ‘Better still, they’ll like you.’
As usual, he was right.
‘We’ve heard so much about you,’ Anna told Poppy when they were seated at their table. ‘We couldn’t believe it when we heard Tom had found you again. It’s just so romantic, like something out of a film. Not like Richard and me.’ She pulled an unromantic face. ‘All we did was get pissed and crash into each other one night in a pub.’
‘Ah, but we had a happy ending,’ Richard put in. ‘I made an honest woman of you, didn’t I? And now here we are, two kids and a gerbil later.’ He gave Anna’s hand a squeeze. ‘It might not be the stuff of film scripts but we’re a good team.’
When they had ordered from the menu Richard went on, ‘Anyway, talking of happy endings. How long before we can expect a bit of knot-tying from you two?’
‘Oh yes,’ Anna exclaimed with longing, ‘I could buy a new hat!’
Poppy gulped a lungful of wine and spluttered into her hand.
‘We’ve only known each other a month.’
‘Listen, when Tom met you last year he told me he knew in an instant you were The One for him. The other week he said This Is It, Together Forever and other such tosh.’ Richard, who played rugby and didn’t much go in for soulful declarations of love, mimed sticking his fingers down his throat. A nearby waiter looked alarmed. ‘I wouldn’t ask, only it’s going to be fun watching the secretaries in the office hold a communal wake.’
‘Stop it, you’re embarrassing Poppy,’ said Anna. She leaned across the table, bright-eyed. ‘He’s such a nosy bugger. Don’t tell him, okay? Tell me.’
‘Of course we’ll be getting married,’ said Tom. In his right hand he held his glass. Beneath the table his left hand stroked the inside of Poppy’s thigh. ‘But big weddings take time to organize. Besides, this is the twenty-first century. These days it’s compulsory to live together first.’
Poppy turned to stare at him. They had talked about it, of course, but only in a desultory fashion. No definite decisions had been reached.
‘You mean…?’
‘As Richard says,’ Tom grinned, ‘why wait? It’s what we both want.’
‘Fab!’ Anna clapped her hands. ‘Can we order champagne?’
‘You really want me to move into your flat?’ Poppy was thrilled but nervous. ‘Are you sure? I’ll turn it into a terrible heap.’
Tom started to laugh. ‘No you won’t. It’s just a matter of getting you house-trained. Anyway, once you give up work, you’ll have more time to clear up after yourself.’
Richard was busy ordering two bottles of Bollinger. At the same time, their food arrived.
‘Give up work?’ echoed Poppy. This was definitely news to her. ‘What, and be like a… a housewife?’
‘Why not?’ Tom’s fingers were still caressing her leg. He looked pleased with himself. ‘I can afford to support both of us. Darling, you don’t need to work.’
‘She’s in shock,’ said Anna. ‘Poppy, don’t look like that… you’ll love it! Take it from me, not having to go out to work is the best thing ever.’
Stunned, Poppy glugged down more wine. This wasn’t something she had ever considered. Surely, giving up work was what you did once you had children.
‘I’m not pregnant,’ she blurted out, in case Tom thought she was.
‘Give me a chance.’ His dark eyes regarded her with affection. ‘It’s only been a month.’
‘Think about it,’ Anna went on enthusiastically, ‘you’ll be a lady of leisure! No beastly early mornings battling through the rain, getting crushed to a pulp on the tube, never having enough time to do lovely things like shopping for clothes because you’ve got to work instead. I used to be a nurse.’ She pulled a face. ‘The sister in charge of our ward was a right cow. I tell you, chucking in my job was the best move I ever made.’
The conversation moved on to Bastard Bosses each of them had been forced to work for over the years. Since Jake wasn’t a bastard, Poppy used the breathing space to turn Tom’s suggestion over in her mind. Okay, she liked her job, but maybe Anna had a point. To be unemployed and forced to survive on some miserable government check was depressing beyond belief, but giving up work knowing you were financially secure was surely the height of luxury. It was why people played the lotto, wasn’t it? Instead of slaving your life away in some smelly office, you actually got to sit back and enjoy all those acres and acres of delicious free time.
I could go to the theatre, thought Poppy, who had never been to a theatre in her life. I could take long walks, go to coffee mornings, meet friends for lunch, join a health club like Princess Di did, have—what were they called? Oh yes, that was it—pedicures…
‘What are you thinking?’ Tom whispered, his mouth brushing her ear.
It was Poppy’s turn to squeeze his leg. He was so perfect for her; he knew her better than she knew herself.
‘Just how clever you are,’ she murmured back. ‘I think I could enjoy giving up work.’
‘I love you. I want to look after you.’
It was such a novelty. No one had ever said that to her before. Poppy felt dizzy with desire.
‘I love you too.’
It wasn’t exactly the surprise of the century but that didn’t mean Caspar had to like it.
‘I’m moving in with Tom,’ Poppy announced, almost bashfully. Her eyes were bright and there were spots of color high up on each cheekbone.
Tom, who was holding her hand, said easily, ‘You’ve had her long enough. My turn now.’
Haven’t had her at all, thought Caspar, hating the way Tom’s fingers stroked the inside of Poppy’s wrist almost as much as he hated the aura of blissful happiness surrounding them like ectoplasm.
‘First you and Babette,’ said Poppy, ‘now us. It must be catching!’
‘Yeah, well, that’s great.’ Caspar knew he didn’t sound as thrilled as he was supposed to sound. ‘When are you off? Straight away?’
‘Well, Tom’s having the bedroom redesigned. The decorators arrive tomorrow and they reckon it’ll take a week. So if it’s okay with you, I’ll move out next Saturday.’
Tom said, ‘It’ll be chaos until then.’
‘It’ll be chaos when I move in.’ Poppy grinned.
‘No it won’t. I told you, it’s simply a matter of getting you trained.’
Caspar tried to imagine the new, improved, fully house-trained Poppy Dunbar, the perfect Stepford Wife.
‘Are you okay? I know it’s not much notice,’ Poppy put in hurriedly, ‘but I can still pay the rent up to the end of the month.’
She was beginning to look hurt. Caspar pulled himself together.
‘Don’t be daft. Sorry. I was miles away.’ He broke into a smile. ‘Trying to figure out who we can invite to your leaving party.’
She brightened. ‘Oh, you don’t have to—’
‘’Course we do. Next Saturday. It’s about time we had another party anyway. It’ll be a bloody good bash.’
Poppy looked excited. ‘Can I invite everyone from the antiques market?’
‘Actually,’ said Tom, ‘I was planning something for next Saturday. Dinner with the head of our firm. Perhaps you could hold your party on the Friday?’
‘Afraid not,’ Caspar lied smoothly, for the hell of it. ‘I’m busy then. You’ll just have to put your boss off.’
Chapter 49
‘Daddy! I didn’t know you were in London! When did you sneak back?’
It was Saturday afternoo
n and the phone had been ringing incessantly all day. As word spread that Caspar was holding another of his infamous parties, friends and friends-of-friends had been calling up out of the blue on the off-chance of being asked along.
‘Last night.’ Hugo Slade-Welch’s deep hint-of-Edinburgh voice was as unmistakable as ever. He sounded amused. ‘And I don’t sneak anywhere. I’m staying at the Hyde Park Hotel for a few weeks, taking a break between films. I wondered what you were doing this evening. Thought I might take my little girl out on the town.’
Claudia melted when her father called her his little girl. He was such a hero in her eyes, not least for having put up with her mother for as long as he had. And it was such an age since she’d last seen him, not since Christmas in fact, when Angie had given him that nude portrait of herself and he had carted it back unwrapped through customs at Heathrow, telling the press he couldn’t have hoped for a better Christmas present, his old dartboard was worn right out.
‘Oh Daddy, I’d love to see you. But Poppy, who’s been living here with us, is moving out tonight. Caspar’s holding the most massive party.’
‘Is he indeed? What, young people only or are old fogeys allowed in as well?’
‘Of course you could come!’ Claudia swiveled round as Caspar, lugging two crates of wine, pushed the hall door open with his elbow. ‘It’s my father. He’d like to come tonight.’
‘Just what we need, more bloody gate-crashers,’ said Caspar loudly. ‘And a struggling no-hope actor at that.’ He dumped the crates and grabbed the receiver.
‘Hello, you old bugger. When are you going to get yourself a proper job?’
‘Daddy?’ said Claudia, when she had wrestled the phone back. ‘No, of course you don’t have to bring a bottle. I just wondered, are you bringing anyone else?’
‘You mean Alice, presumably?’ Hugo’s tone was dry. ‘No, Alice and I have had a parting of the ways. When I left Bel Air she was throwing all her shoes into cases. Shouldn’t take her more than a week. By the time I get back next month, she’ll be gone.’ He didn’t sound too upset. ‘Ah well, at least we weren’t married.’