No Filter

by Maxine Morrey

  ‘So, has Joseph been telling you all about the gorgeous Dr Anthony DiMarco?’

  ‘Nope! But I’m pretty sure he was about to,’ I said, taking another drink.

  ‘I told Libby that it wasn’t planned or anything, we’d just got talking about the same restaurant.’

  ‘Of course not!’ Gina picked up, seamlessly. ‘We just thought it would be nice for him to have some company.’

  ‘If he’s a gorgeous doctor I’m pretty sure that’s one thing he won’t be short of.’

  ‘Well, you know how it is.’ Gina waved a toned arm and the diamonds in her cuff bracelet caught the sunlight streaming in through the large Georgian windows. ‘Everyone is so busy these days. Nobody has the time to meet anybody else! You are all so busy, busy, busy!’

  So, definitely not by chance, then. Strategically planned. God knew what the poor man had been told. I imagined he’d felt that he had little choice, being asked to dinner by a senior, well-respected colleague. And, of course, he might not even be aware that he was being set up. After all, I’d only found out by accident. No, I was pretty sure this had been planned as an ambush on every front.

  After another hour, I asked if it would be all right for me to go and have a lie-down, claiming that it had been a busy morning and that I wanted to be awake enough for dinner tonight. Nothing to do with the thumping headache I had and how the champagne now didn’t seem such a great idea.

  Closing the door, I pulled my phone from my bag and opened the email app:

  Dad’s done it again. I’d really been looking forward to this meal and spending some time with him and Gina but once again, they’ve added a fourth person to the party. Dr DiMarco this time, apparently. I know they mean well but I also know this wouldn’t happen if you were still here. I just wish Dad understood me like you did.

  Love you xxx

  I undid the ankle straps of my shoes and slid them off, then slipped out of my suit and laid it carefully over the back of the overstuffed armchair. The guest bedroom was decorated in a mix of soothing whites and soft greys and I could see over the rooftops as I lay in the luxuriously comfy bed. The sheeny thousand-thread-count sheets were soft on my skin and I closed my eyes.

  A strange noise reached down into my dreams and I swam up to meet it. The noise came again. My mobile was ringing. Switched to vibrate, it was now dancing towards the edge of the bedside cabinet. I reached out and caught it, just as it dropped off the side. The screen was lit up with a picture of Amy pulling an ironic Kardashian pose, complete with duck-face pout and sticking-out bum.

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘Hiya! How’d it go? Are you OK? You sound weird.’

  ‘I just woke up. I’m at my dad’s.’

  ‘Are you ill?’

  ‘No.’ I reconsidered the fact my head was still thumping a bit. ‘Well, no, not really. I had champagne earlier, which was probably a mistake, but apart from that…’

  ‘Libs, you know you’re crap at alcohol! What made you think you could handle afternoon drinkies?’

  ‘I know!’ I sighed. ‘But Dad’s done his thing again and the “family dinner” has turned into yet another “let’s try and find a husband for Libby” dinner.’

  ‘Oh, no.’

  ‘Oh, yes. Matt gave me a heads up earlier. If I wasn’t so keen to go to this restaurant, I’d be on the first train home. The food better be bloody good after all of this.’

  Amy made a sympathetic sound. ‘But how was the meeting?’

  ‘Really good!’ I said, enthusiasm pouring back into me. I sat up and pushed a stray strand of hair out of my eyes. ‘They’re really keen, and it all sounds great. I have the contracts and Charlie took me to see—’

  ‘Wait. You met Charlie?’

  ‘Yes. Well, it wasn’t planned. I bumped into him on the train this morning, so he knew about the meeting and called me afterwards to see how it had gone. He said he was just popping out for lunch so suggested a quick meet up. When I mentioned to him about the contracts, he came over all cynical businessman and insisted on getting them shown to a solicitor friend of his to check, and make sure they weren’t trying to take advantage of me.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘No. You don’t see anything.’ I knew from Amy’s tone what she was hinting at. ‘There’s nothing between me and Charlie. I’m not his type and he’s too reserved for me. But as a friend, he’s lovely.’

  ‘Um hmm.’

  ‘Don’t start, Ames, please. I’ve got enough to contend with, with Dad and Gina and their Doctors’ Dating Service.’

  ‘Sorry, Libs. You know I’m just teasing. You have to admit that Charlie is pretty hot.’

  ‘Says the girl dating his brother. Classy.’

  Amy laughed. ‘Oh, stop. I think you’re hot too, but I don’t want to clamber into bed with you either!’

  ‘I’m wounded. Anyway, we both know I don’t remotely fit into his type box.

  ‘You wore a suit today.’

  ‘Somehow I don’t think just changing my clothes is going to make that much of a difference. Besides, you know I’ve been there and done that when it comes to the whole Executive Type thing.’

  ‘You have to admit Charlie is different from most though,’ Amy prodded.

  I paused. She was right. He was. ‘True. But he was also pretty clear about what he looks for and he’s never made the remotest move towards me so can we just put a lid on this forever, please?’

  ‘Fine, fine. Tell me about this deal.’

  I lay back on the down-filled pillow and told Amy all about the meeting, finding my own excitement building even more at her enthusiasm. By the time we’d hung up, the headache was almost gone and I was back to feeling more like my bubbly self. I pushed myself up out of bed and, ignoring the hotel-style slippers placed strategically by the bed each side, padded over to the dressing table and sat down on the stool. Hmm, not the best. My hair was a bit of scare-fest and my eye make-up was smudged yet again. Time for some major repairs. I pulled my bag over and set to work.

  Dad paid the cabbie whilst Gina and I waited by the restaurant. Tucked discreetly in a corner of the West End, it didn’t announce its presence, merely quietly resided. It had no need for flashiness. The owner was the youngest chef to ever have been awarded two Michelin stars – its quality spoke for itself. The door was opened for us, Dad stated his name, and we were immediately shown to our table. Having a father who had saved many a wealthy life in his time had its benefits. Dad mentioned that we were awaiting a fourth. The waiter nodded, and a few minutes later a man was shown over to our table.

  ‘Anthony! So glad you could make it.’

  ‘Joseph. Good to see you. Thanks for inviting me.’

  Dad made the introductions. ‘This is my partner, Gina.’ Gina smiled warmly and took his offered hand. Her eyes didn’t leave his face and it looked as if he were being sized up as an appetiser. I’d worried for Dad about this quirk initially until I came to realise that it was just her way. She was crazy about Dad, I knew. The whole vamp thing was just… well, just Gina.

  ‘And my daughter, Libby.’ The new arrival and I shook hands. A look passed between us that said, ‘Well, this isn’t awkward at all.’

  The evening passed pleasantly enough, and Dr DiMarco seemed a nice enough chap, but it was clear that he had as little interest in being set up as I did. When Dad stepped out to take a call, and Gina conveniently excused herself at the same time, I turned to Anthony.

  ‘I’m so sorry about all of this.’

  ‘What’s that?’ he said, being terribly British and pretending that everything was just as it should be.

  I gave him a look and a smile. He waited a beat and then returned it. ‘It’s all right. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure your dad means well, for both of us.’

  ‘Quite.’

  ‘And the food’s been delicious! I’m just not really looking…’

  ‘No! No, it’s fine! I’m not either! My father seems to think I should be, though.’ I pulled a face.r />
  He laughed. ‘Like I said, I’m sure he means well.’

  ‘Yes. I think he does.’

  Anthony seemed to be considering whether to say something else.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked.

  He glanced around. ‘It’s just that you seem a really nice person—’

  ‘Uh oh!’ I interrupted.

  He laughed and seemed to relax a little. ‘Well, it’s just that I wouldn’t want you to think it’s any reflection on you.’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry about it!’ I said, resting my hand briefly on his arm. ‘Really, it’s OK. I’ve been through enough of Dad’s set-ups now to deal with it all. Please don’t think I’m offended. I’m just sorry that you were put in an awkward position.’

  ‘I’m gay.’

  ‘Oh!’ I looked at him, a smile beginning to tug at my lips. I could see my reaction reflected in my dinner companion’s expression.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ I said, and then my hand flew up to my face. ‘I mean, about all this, not about you being gay.’

  He laughed then, really laughed, and squeezed my hand. ‘It’s fine. I’m guessing your father didn’t know.’

  ‘No, he can’t have. He’s hopeless when it comes to this sort of thing with me, but he’d never have put you in an uncomfortable situation like this, knowingly. I mean, even more uncomfortable than it already was!’

  ‘Like I said, I’m sure he means well. And I enjoyed the company anyway, as well as the food.’

  Dad and Gina were heading back to the table and I could see them smiling to each other at the fact that we were chatting. Anthony was right. They did mean well. But I still really wished they wouldn’t do it.

  10

  I rang the doorbell and waited. Behind me, cars and buses made their way along the busy seafront road. The honk of a car horn made me turn. A driver was waving his arms at a double-decker bus as it pulled out from a stop. The bus driver made no acknowledgement and continued manoeuvring the vehicle along the road. Heat and traffic were never a good mix. The door to the house opened just as I was turning back to face it.

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘Hi. Come in,’ Charlie said, stepping back and allowing me entrance into the Georgian town house. For some reason, Charlie always seemed to end up at my flat, so this was the first time I’d seen the inside of his place.

  ‘Wow! This is lovely,’ I said, glancing around, my hand feeling the smooth, carved wood of the banister as I followed him down the stairs. ‘I thought all of these had been converted into flats years ago.’

  ‘They were,’ Charlie said. ‘This was originally flats when I bought it too.’

  ‘You converted it back?’

  ‘Yes. Well, not me personally.’ He gave me that half-smile. ‘I can do a bit of DIY but this was a little more than my talents lend themselves to, especially as it has listed status. There are all sorts of codes and things you have to abide by, correct materials to be sourced, etc.’

  ‘Big job,’ I said.

  ‘Yes. Very. But I’m pleased with the outcome.’

  We were now in the kitchen. It was very modern and sleek, all white and steel. Large windows flooded it with light and a set of beautiful period doors opened onto a gorgeous courtyard garden. One blank wall held three large photographic canvases of city-sponsored graffiti, their bright hue a vivid splash of colour in the minimalist room.

  I ambled over to the prints on the wall for a closer look. I loved the angles the photographer had captured and the colours seemed to bounce right off the wall.

  ‘These are amazing. Where did you find them?’

  Charlie threw a look back over his shoulder. ‘They’re, um… they’re mine.’

  ‘Yours? You took them?’

  ‘Um hmm.’

  ‘Charlie, they’re stunning!’

  He came over to me and we both stood looking at his creations for a few moments.

  ‘Do you have some more I can see?’

  ‘I… I suppose. They’re on my laptop. You can have a look through when we’ve finished your stuff, if you really want to.’

  ‘I do really want to!’ I enthused, grabbing his arm.

  ‘OK.’ He gave me a look of bemusement. Something I realised he did quite a lot.

  I waved my arm around the room. ‘This is gorgeous, Charlie. You’ve done an amazing job. It’s hard to believe it was ever flats.’

  ‘Thanks. I had a great project manager; I have to say. Really kept everything on track and all the workmen were brilliant. People always give builders a hard time, but I never had a problem.’

  ‘Were you here much, when all the work was going on?’

  ‘A certain amount. I like to keep an eye on things. Not that I didn’t trust my project manager, but just because I get excited about projects.’

  ‘You’ve done this sort of thing before, then?’

  ‘Nothing quite on this scale. But I have done up a couple of smaller properties in the past. This was definitely an eye-opener though. I learned a lot.’

  ‘So, would you do it again?’

  He glanced around. ‘I’m not sure. The grade listing of it was definitely a bit of a pain in the backside at times, trying to get just the right supplies, so I’m not sure I’d do something like this again.’

  ‘I sense a “but”.’

  He glanced at me, smiling. ‘I’m hoping to build my own house one day. I think it would be amazing to have things just as you like.’

  ‘You sound like you have some ideas already.’

  He wobbled his head. ‘Maybe. A few. It’ll be a while yet though anyway. Finding the land down here is a challenge for a start.’

  ‘You’d stay around the area, then?’

  ‘I’d like to.’

  ‘That’s good.’

  He smiled at me.

  ‘Well, it’d be a right pain for me to bring my accounts halfway across the country.’

  Charlie let out a laugh. ‘Cheers. Nice to know that’s the only reason you’d want me local. Would you like a drink?’

  ‘Please. It’s roasting out there today.’

  ‘It’s definitely a warm one,’ Charlie said, reaching into the fridge. ‘There’s some apple juice. Is that OK?’

  ‘Sounds perfect.’

  ‘It’s organic.’

  I nodded. ‘Even better.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing,’ I said innocently, shaking my head as I reached for the glass he offered. He held the drink up just out of my reach.

  ‘Oi!’

  ‘What was that look about?’

  ‘What look?’

  He fixed me with those eyes.

  I let out a sigh and smiled. ‘All right, I just didn’t have you down as the organic type. Last time I saw you, you were inhaling a Big Mac, large fries, and a Happy Meal.’

  ‘I’d been stuck on a delayed train for two and a half hours. I was hungry.’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  ‘I got the juice from the local farmers’ market. The lady selling it was really chatty and sweet.’

  ‘Oh, really?’ I raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Not like that,’ he said, pushing the drink at me, with a smile. ‘She was old enough to be my grandmother. But once she’d got me talking, I could hardly come away without buying anything, could I?’

  ‘Charlie, how much did you buy?’

  He hesitated. ‘A crate.’

  ‘You’re such a softie.’

  He looked at me.

  ‘I’m not saying that’s a bad thing. You can’t help being a pushover.’ I winked. We both knew that wasn’t true. Not in all aspects anyway. There was no way Charlie Richmond would be in the position he was in if he were a pushover in the world of finance and risk management. But in other aspects he was soft as a brush.

  ‘OK. Come on, we can go upstairs and look at this stuff.’ Heading out of the kitchen, we started up the stairs. ‘And just remember, if I wasn’t such a pushover, as you put it, you wouldn’t be getting your finances checked over for
free.’

  ‘Hey, I offered to pay,’ I said, half turning round, the stair I was on meaning I was now more on eye level with Charlie.

  ‘I’m teasing you. You know I enjoy doing it. Keeps me out of trouble. Come on, up you go.’

  He tapped me on the behind with a file folder.

  ‘Oi.’

  ‘Get a move on, then.’

  ‘I’m going, I’m going.’

  The drawing room was just as beautiful as downstairs, but here the period features were more obvious with plaster roses around the chandelier, and a stunning fireplace that, for now, stood empty but that I could just imagine crackling with the warmth of a real log fire. The majority of the room was white with yellow accents resulting in a light, airy feel. The addition of some modern pieces of furniture made a pleasing mix of old and new, but also lent it an air of familiarity. It wasn’t just a gorgeous room to admire. It was a home.

  ‘Take a seat.’ Charlie pointed at one of the overstuffed couches as he put the file and his drink down on the glass coffee table in front of it, before taking a seat next to me.

  ‘This is a beautiful room,’ I said, twisting round in the seat to view more.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You have great taste.’

  ‘As much as I would like to take the credit, it was mostly the work of an interior designer, not me.’

  ‘Oh. But you must have had a say in the matter? I mean, if you’re going to live here, you must have had some idea as to what they were going to do. Otherwise it could have been something you completely hated.’

  ‘No, we discussed things. And… actually by the time the house was ready for any sort of decoration, Carly and I had been going out for a little while, so she’d got to know more of how I was – am – and what I like, and don’t like.’