by Nikki Ashton
“Sure yer will,” announced Niall, as he sized up her backside.
“What do you think you are doing?” Charlotte asked, catching him with his head on one side, gazing at her rear.
“Checking whether you will fit; you may just manage it. What size are yer, sixteen?”
“No, a ten bottom if you must know.”
“I wouldn’t say you had a behind the size of ten bottoms. You do yerself a disfavour.”
Paul, who had been listening and watching, did now begin to wonder whether he should have let Charlotte stay behind. “Don’t you think that we should get going?” he asked politely. “We don’t want to miss our table.”
“Sure yer right Paul, come on then let’s have yer.” Niall pushed Charlotte towards the car.
Charlotte, in ridiculously high heels, skidded as Niall pushed her into a patch of oil from Paul’s stupid car. Her left foot went from underneath her, and Charlotte began her descent to the ground. As soon as she lost her footing Charlotte reached a hand out to grab anything she could, but the only thing around was Niall, and he was not an option. In fairness to him, Niall tried to catch Charlotte, but gravity beat him, and she landed with a thud on the cold concrete before he had chance. For what seemed like an age, Charlotte lay on the floor, her hands over her eyes, wishing that this was all a dream, and that she would wake up in her nice warm bed. She knew though, that without doubt, it wasn’t. Charlotte wiggled her toes inside her silly shoes, checking that she wasn’t paralysed, then, when she thought it was safe she opened her eyes; quickly closing them again. As she had glanced down Charlotte had noticed that she was showing off her lovely pair of spare, black, lacy knickers and hold up stockings; could this day get any worse? Then Charlotte knew it could as she felt the hot breath on her hands, as someone knelt beside her prostrate body.
“Please be Paul,” she whispered almost silently, splaying her fingers and peeking through them.
“Can I help you Miss Price? Surely, I’ve seen enough of your underwear for one day?” the familiar Irish accent responded. Niall was now in hysterical laughter, as he held his hand out to pull her up.
A concerned Paul rushed around to help too, but he was laughing so much he was standing with his legs crossed, for fear of wetting himself. “Are you okay Charlotte?” he spluttered between laughter.
Charlotte scrambled to her feet, pulling her skirt down with one hand and quickly snatching the other from Niall’s grip. “Yes thank you. Are my clothes dirty again?” she asked, almost dreading the answer. To Charlotte’s relief, the two laughing heads shook. “Right we’d better go then, and I think that you’ll both find that it is very rude to laugh at a lady in a predicament.”
“Yes, yer right, I’m sorry, please accept my apology.” Niall bit his bottom lip, trying to stifle more guffaws.
Ignoring his apology, Charlotte moved towards the car. Paul gently pushed down her head with one hand and rested the other in the small of her back, shoving Charlotte into the back of the car. As she went in headfirst, Charlotte banged her ear on the seat belt, sending a hot, sharp pain around her head. She tried to put a cool, soothing hand to it, but as she did, she banged her elbow on the doorframe.
“Oww, that hurt!” she cried, landing unceremoniously into the back.
“Are you okay there?” Niall asked, settling into his comfy leather seat.
“Never better,” moaned Charlotte, almost in tears at how awful her day had become.
“Right,” said Paul, also settling back in comfort. “Let’s go shall we? Isn’t this lovely, all going to lunch together?” he asked, turning to a tearful Charlotte. “Are you okay, we didn’t mean to upset you?”
“Like you care,” came the ungracious reply from the back.
It took Charlotte nearly ten minutes to get herself into a comfortable position in the back of the car, although it meant that she was almost lying down. All the time she wriggled about she was conscious of Niall snatching a glance over his shoulder. As his shoulders moved up and down Charlotte realised that he was laughing at her, either that, or he had a bad twitch. Her twisted blouse, and hitched up skirt probably meant that he was indeed laughing.
As they reached their destination, Charlotte felt like throwing up, it was Toad Hall, an exclusive restaurant on the outskirts of Chester. It was extremely lavish, but it was also where Tom was buttering up a sales rep’ over lunch. She guiltily looked down at the square diamond on her finger; Tom could blow her cover. She should have told him what she’d done, but she hadn’t thought that this situation would ever arise. Hopefully, he would have already left, but the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach told her that she was probably being too optimistic. As Paul drove onto the car park, Charlotte thrust herself forward, staring manically through the windscreen, desperately trying to see into the restaurant through the large plate-glass window. She clutched a hand to her mouth; there for all to see, at a table by the window, was Tom, wining and dining a thin ginger-haired man.
“Are you okay?” Niall asked, slightly perturbed by Charlotte’s head appearing at his shoulder.
“What...oh yes, just admiring the building.”
“Ooh Charlotte, isn’t that…” Paul didn’t have time to finish that he had spotted Tom.
“Yes it is, best we don’t bother him while he’s on business.” She glared at Paul, daring him to disobey.
“Ah, the young man who nearly had a heart attack last night, if I’m not mistaken,” laughed Niall merrily.
Charlotte shot another stare at Paul, who seemed shocked that Tom had had a heart attack, and that Niall had found it funny. “Hmm, yes it is, fancy you recognising him. It was football Paul, you know how excited he gets,” she added in explanation.
“Oh I see,” said Paul, the expression on his face actually saying that he didn’t see all.
“Surely he wouldn’t mind if you just said hello?” Niall said. “I could remind him that I predicted the score line.”
“Yes he would mind,” snapped Charlotte. “Are we going in or not?”
Both men, recognising a command when they heard one, got out. Niall held the seat back, to allow Charlotte to escape from the back of the car. If Charlotte had thought that getting in had been a problem, getting out was worse. This time she caught her foot under Niall’s trailing seatbelt, she staggered forward, large pink and green pebbles looming before her eyes.
“Gotcher this time,” said Niall, catching her under both arms.
“Thanks,” Charlotte muttered, barely looking at him. “Shall we go in?”
As they walked through the vast hallway to the restaurant, Charlotte tried to grab hold of Paul’s arm; finally, at the third attempt, she caught him. The floor was highly polished, and she was holding on so tight, that he dragged her a couple of feet before the weight on his arm made him turn around.
“Charlotte, what are you doing?” he hissed as Charlotte skidded into him.
“I was trying to get your attention,” she hissed back, through gritted teeth. “I can’t talk to Tom; Devine thinks he’s my fiancé.” She waved the third finger of her left hand at Paul.
“Oh for God’s sake, don’t be so silly and tell him the truth.”
“NO!” she shouted loudly, stopping Niall talking to the headwaiter. Charlotte smiled manically, and Niall returned to his conversation. “Please Paul,” she now whined, in a more hushed tone. “I can’t lose face on this one. He already thinks I’m a prat, don’t give him any more ammunition, please.” She lowered her lashes and gave her best puppy-dog look.
Paul shrugged his arm away from Charlotte’s grasp and sighed heavily. “Oh I suppose so, but don’t blame me if it all goes horribly wrong.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
“Right the table is ready, shall we go?” Niall advanced towards them.
Charlotte nodded sullenly, and Paul enthusiastically, as Niall turned and led the way.
Luckily, for Charlotte, they were shown to a table at the other end of the restaurant f
rom Tom, and behind a stone column, so she felt fairly happy that lunch could go ahead without incident. As soon as they had ordered, and the wine had arrived, Charlotte began to relax. She joined in with the easy conversation and quite forgot that she was dining with the man whom irritated her most in the world. As Niall laughed and joked with Paul, about the latter’s love of rugby, rather than football, Charlotte took time to study the big Irish man more closely. When he laughed, Charlotte found him even more attractive than she first thought. His wide smile stretched up to a small dimple in each cheek, and his bright blue eyes twinkled like fairy lights on water. She looked at his profile, careful not to let him catch her, and traced the outline of his not too long nose and his strong square jaw with her eyes. She looked up to his close-cropped hair, so dark that it was almost blue, and down to his wide shoulders, and then...well then a small shudder of excitement trembled through her body. Charlotte felt excited yet angry, all at the same time.
“Are you okay Charlotte?” Paul asked, sat to her left.
“Hmm, yes, someone just walked over my grave. That's all.”
“Heaven forbid anyone would do that, I’d imagine that you would haunt them for ever more.” Niall smiled over the top of his glass as he lifted it to his lips.
“Maybe that should be a warning to you then Mr Devine.” Charlotte bristled, as she sulkily looked away towards Paul. “I hate him,” she mouthed, scowling from behind her glass.
“Ah, here’s lunch,” gasped Paul, thankful for the approaching waiter.
As they ate the three of them once more engaged in conversation, discussing business and world issues, but nothing on a personal level, which left Charlotte immensely relieved; it meant that she couldn’t land herself in it. She actually found that Niall was a very interesting, intelligent man, with lots of points of view and ideas, but also willing to listen to what both, she and Paul had to say.
“Well I think that sport has got a big part to play in bringing some peace to the world. Look at football, it’s an international language,” Niall enthused, pushing his half eaten sweet to one side.
“Yes, but what about the hooliganism that it promotes?” Paul was still ardently in the rugby corner.
Charlotte interjected at this point. “Yes, maybe on a larger scale, but whenever you see television pictures of aid workers in places like Africa, they often play football with the kids.” She glanced at Niall, who she could sense was looking at her. Turning slightly pink under his intense gaze, Charlotte coughed nervously and swung back to Paul. “Err, it’s not just football, look at athletics. Some of the best long-distance runners are from the third world. It makes them heroes the whole world over.” She leaned back, quickly glancing to her right, but he was now looking at Paul.
“She’s right Paul, maybe a game of football, or rugby if you prefer, should be used to settle differences instead of war, what do you reckon?” Niall’s laugh tinkled in Charlotte’s ear, but she kept her eyes firmly on Paul.
“I reckon if that was the case, and we’d played football instead of having the Second World War, we’d all be German now.” Paul smiled and sat back in his chair, folding his napkin and laying it on the table. “That was lovely Niall, thank you. Did you enjoy that Charlotte?”
Charlotte was now looking at Niall again, smiling shyly. “Yes, thank you,” she almost whispered.
He smiled back, holding her gaze for a few seconds, and then he turned his back to her. “Waiter, could I have the bill please?”
“Well I don’t know about you, but I think that I could sleep through the afternoon, never mind work,” Charlotte sighed, giddiness at the sight of Niall’s broad shoulders making her voice rather high pitched.
“Hmm, me too,” answered Paul, watching Charlotte suddenly bury her head inside her handbag. “Have you lost something?” he asked mischievously.
“What? Err, no, I was just checking that I had my car keys.” She looked up, her face having taken on a new glow. Paul was grinning questioningly at her. “What?” she mouthed.
Paul shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. “You tell me,” he mouthed back, giggling as Charlotte gave him a quick v sign from behind her bag.
Niall looked up from examining the bill. “What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Oh nothing, I was just thinking how true it is that a woman’s handbag is like her mind, and hers,” Paul nodded towards Charlotte, “is absolutely filthy.”
Just then, as if she didn’t feel awkward enough, Charlotte’s embarrassment metre went into orbit. Approaching the table, with the ginger haired man trailing behind, was Tom, grinning broadly and waving. Charlotte almost shouted with the shock. She thought that they were well hidden, how had he spotted them? Thinking quickly, but rather stupidly, Charlotte held her handbag up in front of her face, grabbing the table cloth with it.
Paul, who had been leaning on the table, hit his chin on the wood, while Niall lost his hold on the credit card machine, just managing to catch it before it landed on the floor.
“What the…” Niall gasped, turning to look at Charlotte; a handbag held aloft with handfuls of the white cotton tablecloth.
“What’s she doing?” Tom asked, having arrived at the table and pointing at his sister.
“I think that she’s hiding from you,” said Paul, rubbing his red, throbbing chin. His promise to keep the fiancé story going, was now forgotten.
Tom edged his way past Niall’s chair and planted a kiss on Charlotte’s cheek. “Hello Charlotte, what’s wrong with you then?”
Charlotte, still gripping the bag, with her eyes shut, silently prayed, but it was no use. She opened her eyes slowly and gazed up at Tom; Amanda had lied when they were children, you weren’t invisible with your eyes shut.
“Hi, n-n-nothing is wrong with me,” she stammered. “I just didn’t want to see you.” At least, she was telling the truth.
Tom broke into a smile, rarely being offended when any of his family tried to hide from him. “Charming, I must say. I suppose I’m an embarrassment am I?” he asked, grinning broadly at Niall.
“Yes you are,” moaned Charlotte, punching him in the ribs with some force.
“Oof, that hurt Charlotte, do you have to behave like a man? If you must know, you’ve got a big black mark down the back of your blouse.”
“You said I hadn’t,” Charlotte groaned, looking first at Paul and then Niall.
“You are quite a disaster area, aren’t you? We thought that you’d changed your clothes enough for one day.” Niall smiled, putting a hand to his mouth, obviously to stifle a laugh.
“You’re not kidding, out of the three of us, she’s always been the clumsy one,” said Tom, turning to Niall as he placed his hands on Charlotte’s shoulders.
“There are three of you!” Niall exclaimed, still under the illusion that Tom was Charlotte’s fiancé.
“Yes, and I’m the only boy. It’s awful I can tell you.”
Charlotte buried her head in her hands; the look on Niall’s face said it all, he thought that she was some sort of sexual deviant. What could she do, if she tried to explain he would see that she was a liar, either lying about her sexual preference, or lying about Tom being her fiancé? Charlotte decided to keep it simple and stay quiet and perhaps Tom would go away.
“So what do people think about there being three of you then?” Niall, although slightly perturbed, was also fascinated.
Tom looked confused. “Well nothing really, it’s fairly normal isn’t it? There are quite a few threes in our street.”
“My God, really,” gasped Niall, as he collapsed back in his chair.
Charlotte now had her head down, and her arms hung limply at her side. She almost gave up the will to live. She lifted her head slightly and looked at Paul, desperate for help and inspiration; however, Paul was engrossed in conversation with the ginger haired man, obviously doing a little business.
“So, Mr Bennett, if you call our office, one of our consultants will give you a combined quote for all
your insurance needs.” He passed Mr Bennett a business card and shook his hand firmly.
Charlotte turned back to Niall, who was currently looking at her; the smile of earlier had now been replaced with a grimace. Tom, who had no idea what was going on, grinned inanely.
“I spotted you on the way out, so what are you doing here?” he asked his sister.
“Would you believe lunch, pillock!” Charlotte whispered, as she flapped a hand at Tom’s arm.
Niall stood up and coughed nervously. “I think that we should be getting back. It was nice to meet you err…” He held out his hand to Tom, who took it and shook it warmly.
“Oh, Tom, Tom Price, obviously seeing as we are related.”
This was too much for Niall, who almost exploded. “WHAT!” He dragged his hand away and wiped it fervently on his trousers.
Charlotte realised that enough was enough; he had to be told the truth. “He’s my brother, you just assumed that he was my fiancé.”
“But you haven’t got a fiancé,” snorted Tom. “In fact, fact to be honest, I’m not sure that she’s had a bloke for what, err let’s see, three years now.” Tom, not realising that he was close to death, received another severe blow to the abdomen.
“He’s right I don’t have a boyfriend, never mind a fiancé. I’m sorry Mr Devine, but as I said, you assumed, and I didn’t feel it necessary to put you right,” Charlotte sighed, holding her hands, palms upwards, in a sign of submission.
“Well yes you are right. It isn’t any of my business, but to be honest I’m not sure why you would think that I would care.” Niall signalled that lunch was over by turning on his heel and walking towards the exit.
Paul, who had still been talking about business, and oblivious to what had gone on, smiled at the ginger haired man. “Oh, it looks like we’re going. Well, it was nice to have met you Mr Bennett, bye Tom.” Paul strode off in Niall’s direction, waving behind him.
“Well it was nice to see you. Shall I tell mum that you’ll be over tomorrow as usual?” Tom could sense from Charlotte’s face that she was not happy, and he was desperate not to be punched again.