by Jill Mansell
Only half listening, Flo heard him say to them, ‘I can recommend the mussels, which are excellent tonight and are cooked in either white wine and cream or a marinara sauce. And the soup of the day is cauliflower with toasted almonds.’
‘Ugh,’ said Lena, her mouth shrivelling in disgust. ‘That sounds awful, I can’t stand cauliflower. Cauliflower is rank.’
Such lovely diners. Honestly, this restaurant’s so lucky to have them.
Then Flo saw the expression on Giles’s pudgy face; he was frowning into his drink, lost in thought, his memory inadvertently nudged by the waiter into almost remembering what had been troubling him up until now.
‘Soup . . .’ Muttering the word, he raised his head.
‘Oh Jaaahls, don’t have the soup, just the smell of it’ll make me want to be sick!’
Almost there now. Flo readied herself. Finally Giles was staring directly at her once more, like a bull.
‘It was you,’ he said slowly. ‘It was you, wasn’t it? Who threw the soup at me.’
‘What?’ Lena put down her menu. ‘What in God’s name are you talking about?’
‘Yes.’ Flo nodded at Giles. ‘It was me.’
‘OK, I don’t know what’s going on here. When did she throw soup at you? Was this in another restaurant?’ Lena glared at Flo as if she might have had the temerity to be working as a waitress.
‘Not in a restaurant. Out in the street,’ said Giles. ‘I’d never seen her before in my life. She just turned into a complete madwoman and started yelling abuse at me. Next thing I knew, she’d ripped the lid off a can of soup and fucking chucked it all over me. Tomato, it was. My Dolce and Gabbana shirt was completely fucked. Five hundred quid, that shirt cost me.’
Flo raised her eyebrows. ‘You said four hundred last time.’
‘Are you serious?’ Her eyes out on stalks, Lena was quivering with outrage. ‘She just did that to you in the street for no reason at all? When did this happen? I hope you called the police and had her arrested.’ Shaking her head, she turned to Flo. ‘What are you, completely deranged? My God, and you’re living in our flat – it’s so unfair! If my grandmother had known what you were like, she’d never have let you move in!’
Luckily it wasn’t the kind of restaurant where all the diners suddenly fell silent; other conversations were carrying on and there was enough noise in the room to ensure they weren’t the centre of attention. Which made it possible for Flo to say evenly, ‘It happened a few weeks ago and I didn’t do it for no reason at all. There was a homeless man outside the pub and your friend here thought it would be amusing to stand in front of him burning a fifty-pound note.’
There, she’d said it. Lena deserved to know the ugly truth about her dining companion. So what if Giles was mortified at being publicly outed? He deserved it. And yes, Lena’s eyes were widening in disbelief and—
‘Bwahahahahaha, bloody funny.’ Spluttering into his drink, Giles grinned at Lena. ‘Always good for a laugh, that one. The old jokes are the best. Bloody funny . . .’
So much for being mortified. But surely by now even Lena would be ashamed of him.
Except she didn’t appear to be. The momentary flicker of dismay – a suggestion of actual humanity – had vanished, and she was now back to gazing adoringly at Giles, a smile playing on her lips. When he burst out laughing once more, she said brightly, ‘Oh, I know that one, Peregrine Hamilton-Carr did it the morning after the Blue Moon Ball . . . hilarious!’
‘I know, right?’ Giles rocked back in his chair, eyes streaming with mirth. ‘Comedy gold!’
Flo shook her head; Lena was evidently one of those yes girls, the kind that would never dream of criticising their boyfriend, choosing instead to go along with anything and everything he said.
‘Oh my God, what a dick,’ said Annie.
‘And she’s acting like he just won an Olympic medal,’ said Bridget.
‘For prize dickery,’ Mavis snorted.
‘I just thought of something.’ Annie clutched Flo’s arm. ‘If you and Zander end up getting married, that means—’
‘What?’ Lena had jerked round to stare at them. ‘What did you just say? OK, how do you even know about my brother, and why would he ever end up marrying her?’
Whoops. Flo froze. OK, this definitely wasn’t meant to be happening. Was there any way out of it?
But she’d underestimated Annie, who was speedy when it counted.
‘Excuse me? What are you talking about? I have no idea who your brother is.’ She shook her head at Lena, signalling bafflement. ‘I’m talking about how brilliant it’d be if Flo marries my son.’
‘Your son.’ Lena had already noted Annie’s overbleached hair, exuberant dress sense and purple nail polish. Having listened to her strong Bristolian accent and cackling laugh, she was evidently sceptical, to say the least. ‘You’re seriously telling me your son is called Zander?’
‘Only my eldest son,’ said Annie. ‘The others are called Tristram and Tarquin.’ She glanced down at her cleavage and brushed away a few focaccia crumbs before returning her attention to Lena. ‘You can’t call them all Zander, can you? That would be stupid.’
‘Oh my God, how much of a wally is that guy? And what a cow she is!’ They’d spilled out of the restaurant, laughing and clutching each other in hysterics. Gasping for breath, Bridget said, ‘Did you see her face when Annie reeled off those names? I thought I was going to wet myself.’
‘D’you reckon she believed me?’ Annie, whose sons were actually called Lee, Dennis and Jason, mimicked Lena’s voice. ‘But how can your children possibly have names like that when you’re so common?’
Flo said, ‘She doesn’t know what to think now, not after you told her your real dad was an earl. You were so convincing. Even I almost believed you.’
‘My mum used to be in service. She worked as an under housemaid at Kilburton Castle.’ Annie snorted with laughter. ‘She used to say I was the earl’s daughter, making out it was a joke, but knowing her, I reckon it was true.’
‘You should wear a tiara,’ said Bridget. ‘All day, every day.’
‘While I’m busy wiping other people’s bums.’ Annie pulled a face at the memory of Lena’s disgust. ‘Bloody hell, Flo, I hope this Zander bloke’s nicer than his sister.’
‘He is.’ Flo nodded as they made their way towards the taxi rank on Whiteladies Road. ‘Much nicer.’
‘Well, good, but you’re going to have your work cut out if you two carry on seeing each other. How will you cope? That sister of his doesn’t like you one bit.’
‘It’s early days.’ There was a fluttery sensation in Flo’s throat. ‘Way too soon to be worrying about things getting serious.’ She added flippantly, ‘Like you said, he might already have found someone else in Canada.’
‘I know, but I’m just saying. She’s a piece of work, that one.’
‘Except she doesn’t do any work.’ Flo grinned, briefly imagining herself and Zander getting married, with Lena dressed as a bridesmaid with a malevolent gleam in her eye and a gun hidden behind her back.
‘Well, good luck. But I don’t envy you,’ said Annie. ‘She’s not going to make life easy for you. That one’s a witch.’
Chapter 21
Dear Rose,
I love gardening.
I’m shy with strangers.
One day I want to surprise everyone by doing something unexpected and amazing, so I can be proud of myself.
My husband was the love of my life until he left me suddenly three years ago for another woman. I was devastated and thought I’d never get over it, but I kind of have. I’d like to meet a new man but can’t see that ever happening, because who would want me? I’m hardly a catch. So my life is quite boring, but it’s OK, I’m used to being on my own now.
The thing is, I bumped into him in town yesterday and we ended up going for a coffee. He’s not happy with his girlfriend and says he misses me. He wants to come over to my flat on Friday night. Just for sex, basical
ly. I know, not very romantic, is it? I should really tell him to get lost. I don’t love him any more, I know that now, but I do miss being intimate with a man and it would kind of make up for the fact that when he left me three years ago I had no warning it was going to happen.
Rose, I’m so tempted, but would it make me feel miserable all over again? He’s already hinted that it could become a regular arrangement (his girlfriend thinks he goes out to play darts every Friday night, but he doesn’t).
Help me, please. What should I do?
Julia
Dear Julia,
You sound strong to me. Your ex-husband sounds weak. He knocked your self-confidence and it took a while for you to get back on your feet.
Now, I’m sure most advice-givers would tell you to turn him down flat because you’re better than he is and he doesn’t deserve the opportunity to hurt you again. Nor does he deserve sex.
This is all true, but I think you do deserve sex. You deserve closure. He took your love life away from you without warning. If you can make a pact with yourself that it will only happen once, I really do think you should sleep with him for that one last time. Then, afterwards, tell him it’s over for good. Use him like he hoped to use you. Get your own back on him and grow in confidence as a result. You already know he’s a pathetic excuse for a man and you deserve better. Hammer that last nail into the coffin of your relationship. It’s what Madonna would do, isn’t it? Oh, and make sure he uses a condom too.
Do the unexpected, be amazing and surprise yourself. Set yourself free.
Then move on triumphantly with your new life!
Love,
Rose xxx
‘Spot on. Couldn’t agree more,’ announced Margot, having finished reading. ‘What a snake. Get your own back on him, girl!’ Her dark eyes were glittering. ‘Can’t beat a bit of closure.’
‘I hope we get an update.’ Flo was watering the house plants lined up along the windowsill of Margot’s apartment; sometimes people got back in touch to let Rose and her readers know what was now happening in their lives.
‘Sooner rather than later, preferably. Don’t want to pop my clogs and still be waiting to hear how she’s doing.’ Margot tilted her head to one side like a bird, surveying Flo with interest. ‘Have you had a haircut?’
‘Just a trim.’
‘And a colour?’
‘Semi-permanent. It’s called Autumn Leaves.’ Pleased, Flo swished her ringlets from side to side. ‘D’you like it?’
‘I do, very much. And you’ve had your eyebrows tinted too.’
‘It was the hairdresser’s idea.’
‘Nice. This is for a special occasion, I take it.’
‘Possibly.’ Flo smiled and put down the watering can.
‘Your chap back from Toronto at last, is he?’
My chap . . .
‘His plane landed this morning. I’m seeing him tonight.’
Margot said, ‘D’you suppose he’ll have had his eyebrows tinted to impress you too?’
‘His are black already.’ Unable to help herself, Flo said, ‘Honestly, you should see them. He has amazing eyebrows.’
‘Ah, look at you. You’re glowing.’ Margot added cheerfully, ‘And you’re lovely too, never forget that. He’s a lucky chap.’
‘Hi,’ said Zander when Flo pulled open the front door.
‘Hi.’ Was she beaming like an idiot? Oh, but it was so wonderful to see him again.
‘I’m back.’
‘I noticed.’
He was nodding admiringly. ‘You look great.’
‘Thanks. I had my eyebrows tinted and I’m still getting used to them. Every time I catch sight of myself in the mirror I get a shock.’ OK, babbling now, time to stop before she heard herself blurting out that she’d had her legs waxed too.
‘I like your eyebrows.’ Zander was smiling. ‘I like you. I’ve missed you.’
His words made her quiver; it was the perfect thing to say. Her skin prickling with anticipation, she breathed in the scent of Zander’s body, his aftershave, his leather jacket. And then he kissed her and all was right with the world . . .
Well, almost all.
Drawing away a minute later, she rested her hands on his shoulders. ‘Sorry, but I have to ask. Have you spoken to Lena yet?’
‘Yes. She told me what happened last week. Was it awful?’
‘Put it this way, she’s not happy with me. Is Giles her new boyfriend?’
Zander looked resigned. ‘Seems like it.’
‘He’s pretty ghastly.’
‘Ah well, that’s my sister for you. Line up a row of potential men and you can guarantee Lena’ll go for the most obnoxious one. It’s like a moth to a flame.’
‘Did she manage to lock herself out of the flat while you were away?’
Zander grimaced. ‘A couple of times. I had to leave spare keys with all the neighbours. Anyway, can we not talk about my sister just now? I’ve been looking forward to this evening. Let’s not spoil it.’
When the clock struck midnight, they were lying wrapped in each other’s arms in Flo’s bed. Was this too soon? It probably was, but it didn’t feel too soon. This had been one of the most magical evenings of her life.
‘What are you thinking?’ said Zander.
‘I’m thinking I’m really glad I had my legs waxed.’
He laughed. ‘Most girls wouldn’t say that.’
‘I know. It’s why I’m still single.’
Still laughing, Zander pulled her to him and kissed her on the nose. ‘They wouldn’t say that either.’
At that moment they heard a peremptory scratching at the door, followed by a series of miaows.
‘It’s Jeremy’s bedtime,’ said Flo. ‘He won’t give up until we let him in.’
She watched as Zander got out of bed, crossed the room and opened the door. Nice body.
Jeremy stalked past him, jumped up on to the end of the bed and settled himself down, facing Flo and radiating disapproval.
‘Looks like our time’s up,’ Zander observed as he climbed back in.
Jeremy blinked and slowly swished his tail.
Flo said, ‘It’s like having Ann Widdecombe sitting on your bed, making sure there’s no hanky-panky going on.’
‘He’s spent his whole life living with my grandmother. He doesn’t know what hanky-panky is.’
Beneath the duvet, Flo jiggled her foot and gave the cat a playful nudge. ‘Come on, Jeremy, cheer up, no need to be so grumpy.’
Jeremy’s baleful gaze was unwavering. He clearly had no intention of forgiving her.
‘We’ll work something out,’ said Zander.
‘It may involve moving into the spare room.’
‘Well we can’t go to my flat, that’s for sure. If it’s a toss-up between having to cope with Jeremy’s disapproval or Lena’s, I know which I’d prefer.’
‘Are you going to tell her about . . . us?’ Oh help, was that horrifically presumptuous? Was there even an us? Who knew, maybe now that he’d effortlessly seduced her, she wouldn’t see him for dust.
‘Don’t look like that. I’m not going anywhere.’ Reading her mind, Zander lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it. ‘This is just the beginning. But we both know what Lena’s like. When she finds out, she isn’t going to make things easy. For now, I’d rather keep it just between us. Trust me, it’ll be more relaxed all round.’
Flo nodded and said fervently, ‘I think so too.’
But inside her chest, happiness was bubbling up like a garden fountain. Look, it’s me and Zander, we’re a couple . . . we’re an us!
Chapter 22
When making yourself a bacon sandwich really took it out of you, you knew you were in a bad way.
Although Hallie was already aware of that. Last week she’d gone into hospital for yet another routine check-up and had seen her figures. Full blood count, oxygen saturation and lung function tests, X-rays and IV assessments . . . basically, all the results were worse.
But to see the numbers and understand the degree to which you’d deteriorated wasn’t a cheery experience. Her exercise tolerance was markedly reduced. Her sats were 90 per cent. Extra physio had been less effective than before. The insides of her lungs felt spiky and sore, and the stealthy, depressing inevitability of it all caused her to be ambushed, sometimes, by great waves of sadness.
Don’t be a whiner, she told herself. Concentrate on the good things in life, even if there don’t seem to be too many of them left.
Luckily, a bacon sandwich definitely counted as a good thing. Disconnecting herself from the oxygen supply in the kitchen, Hallie carried the plate through to the living room, reconnected her nasal specs to the oxygen supply in there and sat down on the sofa to watch the rest of Starter for 10.
The heat from the crispy bacon had melted the butter, giving the fresh white bread just the right amount of squidginess. Oh yes, this was a world-class sandwich. As she picked it up and prepared to take that heavenly first bite, the doorbell rang.
Oh please. Did people like to spy on her with binoculars and do it on purpose?
Just ignore the door and eat the sandwich.
But the moment would be spoiled, Hallie knew; she wouldn’t be able to enjoy it if all she was doing was waiting for the bell to ring a second time.
Ooh, and it might be the postman with those new ankle boots she’d ordered from ASOS.
She put the sandwich down, disconnected the oxygen tubing once more and got slowly to her feet.
The doorbell rang again.
OK, after all this it had better be her ankle boots.
It wasn’t.
It was even browner than the ankle boots.
It was Nick.
He was grinning, holding his arms out to her, his teeth dazzling white in contrast with his ridiculously deep tan. In an over-the-top stab at an Australian accent he said, ‘Hey, sport, how ya doin’? Ya got a face on ya like a wallaby on a tightrope.’
Amazed, Hallie said, ‘I don’t believe it.’