by Cathy Kelly
The only positive side of Bob’s descent into emotional misery was that he stopped being so jumpy. Leonie realized that if she was a bit nervous about being seen on a blind date, Bob was positively phobic about it. Every time a waiter appeared within his range of vision, he jerked, as if expecting to see the parents’ committee descend upon him and mutter something about blind-dating teachers not being suitable role models for impressionable young minds.
What was he doing here, Leonie wondered, idly crunching up another prawn cracker. They did manage to talk about Bob’s supposed other hobbies: cinema and hill-climbing.
‘I’m not much of a climber, although I walk Penny every day. But I love the cinema. I don’t really have anyone to go with because my mother prefers the theatre and the kids want to see James Bond or things with teenage actors I don’t recognize.’
‘We can go together,’ Bob said, sounding pleased. ‘How about this time next week? You pick the movie.’
At least she had a date of sorts for the following week, Leonie reflected as she drove home, stuffed to the gills with Chinese food yet feeling deflated. Bob certainly wasn’t suitable partner material, but he was a new friend and wasn’t that what agony aunts always advised: meet new people, new friends, and, when you’re least expecting it, a partner will appear. It looked good written down, anyhow.
What a strange evening. She realized she’d even talked about Ray. Well, when you were with somebody who was passionately interested in the concept of ex-relationships, you couldn’t help putting in your thruppence-ha’penny worth. And Bob had been interested too, although astonished when he realized that she had instigated her marriage break-up. ‘You simply decided it was over?’ he said, shocked.
Leonie shrugged. ‘What was the point of staying married if we weren’t right together?’ she said. ‘Too many people do, purely for convenience, because the other person is there. I don’t understand that. It’s like you’re too scared to do anything different even though you’d secretly like to do it. That’s fear of the unknown, not real love. I couldn’t cope with a life like that. I believe there’s somebody perfect out there for all of us.’
Bob had looked at her so blankly that it was obvious he couldn’t comprehend what she was getting at. Mind you, Leonie thought as she parked outside the cottage, her mother had never been able to understand it either. Every once in a while, the normally orange-juice drinking Claire would have a couple of glasses of wine and start gently berating her daughter for divorcing Ray.
‘You’ll never find a man like Ray,’ she’d mumble sadly.
Leonie thanked the man above she hadn’t revealed anything about her blind date to Claire. Because Bob certainly wasn’t a man like Ray – husband material, in other words.
Mel’s good humour appeared to have evaporated when Leonie got home.
‘Danny’s a spanner-head,’ she said crossly, emerging from the sitting room before her mother had time to struggle out of her coat.
‘Don’t use that type of language, Melanie,’ Leonie said wearily. ‘What’s he done now?’
‘He was watching videos all evening and we couldn’t bring Liz and Susie in to see ER,’ sniffed Mel. ‘And he let them smoke in the house, too,’ she added triumphantly.
‘You can’t keep your mouth shut, can you?’ roared Danny, who could hear what was going on from the sitting room.
‘Well, you let them smoke,’ roared Mel back.
‘Oh yeah, and you’re Miss Goody Two Shoes who’d turn her nose up at a cigarette if she got the chance, right?’
Mel clammed up like a shot. She must have been smoking herself, Leonie realized. That’d have to stop. Mel could forget about ever getting pocket money again if she started smoking. But that was an argument for tomorrow. Leonie felt she’d had enough tonight.
‘Would the two of you stop this bickering,’ she said firmly. ‘I’m not in the mood for it. Try and act your age for once.’
Abby was in the kitchen with Penny and her plain face lit up with a grin when Leonie went in.
‘Well done, Mum,’ she said. ‘They’ve been at it since you went out. I nearly rang Gran to ask could I go round to her house to escape. By the way, Hannah rang and asked you to give her a buzz when you got in.’ Abby’s eyes twinkled mischievously. ‘I never pointed out that you were supposed to be with her and Emma.’
Leonie grinned back. ‘I’ll let you in on my secret if you promise to keep it to yourself.’
‘Mum!’ Abby looked wounded. ‘You know I can keep a secret.’
‘Of course, I know you can.’ Abby would carry a secret to the grave, unlike her sister, who’d promise not to breathe a word to anyone but wouldn’t be able to keep it to herself for longer than a day. Leonie didn’t like asking Abby to keep something from her twin, but she knew that while Abby would be pleased her mother had had a date, Mel wouldn’t. Capricious and demanding, Mel liked to be the centre of her mother’s world and wouldn’t have coped well with news of a rival for her affection, even if it was Bob.
‘I was meeting a man for dinner. Hannah set me up with a friend of hers,’ Leonie improvised. ‘He’s very nice and she thought we’d get on. We did,’ Leonie paused delicately, ‘but as friends, really. We’re going to the cinema next week, but we’ll just be friends, nothing else.’
‘Do you still love Dad? Is that why you haven’t got a boyfriend?’ asked Abby suddenly.
Leonie felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. ‘Is that what you think?’ she asked. ‘That I still love Dad like that, that I’m upset about Fliss?’
Lips clamped together as if she was scared she’d said the wrong thing, Abby nodded mutely.
‘It’s not like that at all, darling,’ Leonie said. ‘I’m happy for Dad, and I’m not in love with him in that way. I love him…but as a friend, as your father, not as anything else.’ God, she thought blankly, what else could she say to convince her daughter that she wasn’t in bits over Ray and Fliss’s nuptials?
‘I’m not upset about the wedding…’
‘But you looked as if you were,’ blurted out Abby.
‘Did I?’
Abby nodded.
‘It was a shock, that’s all,’ Leonie said, floundering. She must have looked terrible the day the kids came back from America. She thought she’d hidden it well. Obviously she hadn’t. ‘I didn’t want to go out with anybody when you were younger,’ she said in a rush. ‘It was too hard to think about men when I wanted to look after you all.’ She reached out to touch Abby affectionately.
‘I want you to be happy,’ Abby said, her face crumpling. ‘If Dad is happy, I want you to be too. Is he nice, this man you met tonight?’
For the first time since the strained conversation had started, Leonie smiled genuinely. ‘He’s nice, but he’s not Brad Pitt.’
Abby giggled. ‘Mel would kill you if he was.’
‘He’s a teacher and he’s a lovely man, but I think going to the cinema is as far as we’re going to get. Still, it’s nice to have some new friends. It’s a bit boring going out with the people your father and I knew twenty years ago.’
‘Dad told me he’d love you to come to the wedding,’ Abby said.
Leonie was astonished. ‘That’s sweet of him but…I don’t think it would be a good idea.’
Abby wasn’t finished. Now that she’d broached the subject, she was determined to finish it. ‘We had a big talk one day when Fliss had taken Mel off shopping. He wanted to know how you are and if you’re happy. He says he’s happier than he’s ever been.’
‘Great,’ Leonie said faintly. ‘Of course I’m happy, Abby. I have you three and Penny and Clover. I don’t need a man to make me happy, you know that. Granny lives alone and she’s happy, isn’t she?’
‘Granny’s different. She doesn’t need anybody.’
Which was true, Leonie reflected. Her mother was one of life’s loners, content with the company of her beloved cats and pleased to dip in and out of her daughter’s life every few days, stayi
ng for a cup of tea and then returning to the sanctuary of her own home. Her mother was a solitary woman. Leonie wished she’d inherited that trait.
‘I was thinking the other night about what happens when me and Danny and Mel are gone and you’re here on your own with Penny,’ Abby said. ‘You’ll be lonely. I know I would.’
‘Abby…’ Leonie kissed her daughter on the forehead. ‘That’s a long, long way away. Let’s not even think about a time when you’re not living here, OK? Now, you better hit the hay, love, it’s a school day tomorrow, although your sister seems to have forgotten.’
While Abby went off to tell Mel it was time for bed, Leonie sat down at the kitchen table and phoned Hannah, who was deeply apologetic for having rung while Leonie was still out.
‘It was eleven before I rang and I thought you were meeting him at half seven, I was sure you’d be home. It must have gone well,’ she added, a knowing tone to her voice.
‘Er…’ Leonie hesitated, ‘that depends entirely on your definition of “gone well”,’ she said.
‘Oh.’
‘Oh, is right. I would not expect a wedding invitation to land on your doormat any time soon, let’s put it that way.’
‘Well, I didn’t think you were angling for a white dress anyway, but I take it that Bob didn’t turn out to be the answer to any maiden’s prayers?’
‘Only if the maiden in question was a psychiatrist specializing in post-relationship trauma who needed a subject for her doctoral thesis.’
‘You’re kidding.’
‘I wish I was. He is a sweet, kind man, but he is obsessed with his ex-girlfriend. On our next date, I’m expecting to see a photo of her,’ Leonie joked.
‘You mean, you’re having a second date!’
‘Not really. We’re going to the cinema together. Probably to something black and white and Swedish,’ she shrugged, ‘but it’ll get me out of the house.’
‘Phone the next guy on your list,’ Hannah urged.
Leonie shook her head and then realized she was on the phone and that Hannah couldn’t see her. ‘I think I’ve had it with blind dates for a while,’ she said. ‘I’ve dipped my big toe in the water and I’m testing the temperature.’
‘Leonie,’ pleaded Hannah, ‘you can’t back out now. Think of the other guys who answered your ad. They could be wonderful – Mr Wonderful,’ she corrected herself, ‘waiting to happen.’
‘Mr Wonderful can wait,’ Leonie said firmly. ‘I need a chance to get over my first great date with Bob. And who knows,’ she said, even though she did know, ‘he could turn out to be Mr Wonderful. He may simply need time.’
‘Time in therapy, more like,’ declared Hannah. ‘OK, you win. I’ll keep shtoom about your next date, but there’s a time limit on my silence. I want the romance of the century happening soon and I’ll keep nagging you until you get it!’
Hannah got back into bed and began to flick through her copy of Understanding Property: Your Guide to Real Estate. David James had given it to her and she was half-way through it, consuming it greedily in order to know as much as possible about her new career. After talking to Leonie, she found she couldn’t concentrate.
Leonie was a wonderful raconteur. She could make the silliest stories utterly hilarious, especially when she was being self-deprecating. Her version of the date with Bob was a classic but, Hannah thought, it was a pity it hadn’t worked out. Leonie deserved a nice bloke. Like Felix. She dropped her book and hugged her knees to her chest. Felix, Felix, Felix…Even his name was thrilling. He was an incredible guy, dripping with charisma and talent. You name it, he had it. There weren’t words for all the qualities he possessed.
And he was so ambitious, like her. That was one of the things they shared.
‘You’re like the other half of me,’ he’d murmured only the night before. They’d been lying in her bed, Felix on the side where Hannah usually slept, sprawled carelessly on the newly changed sheet, his naked body inviting her to caress it. ‘We have this connection, Hannah: you want the whole world and so do I. It’s a dangerous obsession.’ He played with her hair, curling the strands with his long, sensitive fingers. ‘My career isn’t the only thing I’m obsessed with,’ he added. ‘I’m crazy about you, do you know that?’ he said suddenly, gazing at her, dark eyes brooding.
She was afraid to speak in case she broke the spell. It would be wrong to say she was crazy about him too, although it was true. She could think of nothing else. These last few days, it was a miracle she’d been able to do any work at all for losing herself in a daydream of Felix. She couldn’t understand it really. How she’d miraculously changed overnight from being wary and suspicious just because of him. If Emma or Leonie could see her now, they wouldn’t recognize her: this adoring woman who used to be so in control, who now quivered whenever Felix merely glanced in her direction. Ms Cojones of Steel had turned into a woman in love, and she adored the sensation.
He sat up in the bed and leaned over her, his gaze trailing lasciviously over her nakedness.
‘You’re very sexy,’ he growled, the timbre of his voice rich and deep.
As usual, Hannah felt every bone in her body melt. She’d never met anybody with a voice like that. What would he sound like on stage, his rich, resonant voice reaching the back row, capturing every member of the audience in his spell?
‘I’d love to see you on stage,’ she blurted out.
‘I haven’t done much theatre,’ he said, fingers idly trailing designs on Hannah’s bare shoulder. ‘I prefer the cinema. If this TV series really works, it could be the big time for me, darling. If I make it big, will you come with me? To London?’
Hannah was still. She couldn’t believe he’d said that. Felix’s lifestyle meant he had to be the ultimate free spirit. With that in mind, she’d tried to keep things deliberately light. She never expected to see him and treated each phone call or date as an enjoyable bonus, half-knowing that Felix wouldn’t have tolerated a woman who clung to him. And now he was the one making plans for the future. She’d have to be careful, she knew. Love could hurt with greater accuracy than hate. She was scared to get too close to Felix in case he dumped her just when she’d given herself body and soul to him.
‘That’s a flattering thing to say, but I’ve never expected us to be a permanent fixture,’ she said, choosing her words carefully. ‘I can’t think of anything more wonderful than living with you, Felix, but we both have our hopes and dreams and I don’t believe in tying someone down.’
He buried his face in her shoulder and licked her skin, moving off to her mouth and kissing her deeply.
‘That’s what I love about you, Hannah. You’re so independent, you’re your own woman,’ he said admiringly when his lips left hers. ‘It’s refreshing, different. We’re made for each other, darling. You’re the sort of woman I need. An actor needs a strong partner, like you. Not some namby-pamby little hausfrau who has a nervous breakdown every time he performs a love scene with his leading lady. You’re a star, Hannah.’
He grinned at her triumphantly and she returned his smile, thanking God she hadn’t blown it all by squealing with delight at the very notion of living with him. Felix liked his women independent and in control: that was the way he’d find Hannah Campbell. Not for her the role of clinging, limpet girlfriend consumed with anxiety about her handsome lover. Strong and independent were her middle names. She let her fingers slide under the duvet where they encountered Felix’s muscular stomach.
‘One hundred sit-ups a day,’ he’d told her proudly, the first time she commented on his physique. Wash-board wasn’t the word for it. Tonight, that wasn’t what she was interested in.
‘Is that a pistol in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?’ she murmured, fingers sliding down further.
‘I haven’t got any pockets,’ said Felix huskily, ‘but I’m certainly pleased to see you.’
‘Have a nice night out, did you?’ asked Gillian tautly, when Hannah arrived into work the following morning,
still glowing from the night before. She’d slept well. Felix insisted on a good night’s sleep.
‘My skin looks terrible in the morning if I don’t,’ he said apologetically when he asked her to turn out the light. But they’d made up for lights-out at midnight by waking up at dawn to a very erotic interlude. The things that man could do with his mouth, that perfect made-for-TV mouth…Hannah sighed.
‘Lovely, yes,’ she answered Gillian automatically, ignoring the bite to the other woman’s enquiry. ‘How about you? Has Leonard got over his cold?’
Gillian, as she had discovered, liked morning chit-chat and enquiries about her health. Otherwise, she sat at her desk all day in a tight little knot of resentment, icily deflecting all subsequently friendly remarks. After a few days of that, Hannah had realized that a bit of conversation first thing made the atmosphere in Dwyer, Dwyer & James much cosier.
‘I meant to watch that Jane Austen thing on BBC last night, but I was out and forgot to tape it. What did you think of it, Gillian?’
‘I prefer real-life documentaries, to be honest,’ sniffed Gillian. ‘It was on in the background but I didn’t really watch it,’ she added and then proceeded to give Hannah a blow-by-blow account of the first episode of the costume drama.
As she talked, Hannah listened with one ear and began organizing her desk for the day ahead. The office had been so busy the last few days, ‘the last flurry before the season dies down,’ David James remarked. Last flurry or not, Hannah wanted to hire a new photographer before too long. The current guy could make a glorious multi-million-pound stately home in rolling parkland look like a two-up, two-down in need of renovation. He was hopeless and she was determined to get rid of him before the new influx of clients began to sell their homes elsewhere. Of course, bad photography worked when it made people arrive at a house they’d thought was hideous from the photo only to discover it was really a bijou residence with buckets of potential. But when it put them off viewing altogether, bad photography was a major disadvantage. He had to go, that was it. Today, she’d start phoning around for replacements.