The Hopeless Romantic's Handbook

by Gemma Townley

  “Oh. Tom. Hi. What’s up?”

  “Expecting Joe to call, were you?”

  Kate laughed self-deprecatingly. “Sorry, that was a bit sad, wasn’t it? No, he’s coming over, actually. He was meant to be here a while ago, so I thought it would be him.”

  Tom looked up at the sky.

  “Tom? Are you still there?”

  He sniffed. “Look, um, Kate, do Penny and Joe know each other?”

  There was a pause. “They did an advert together. Joe told you about it at Sal’s dinner, if you remember? Or were you too drunk?”

  With a flash, Tom remembered, and immediately he felt like a fool. It was work. Nothing more. “Well, that explains that, then,” he said. “I couldn’t work out why they’d be having dinner together, that’s all. But if it’s work….”

  “Having dinner together?” Kate asked, surprised. “When?”

  “Well… now,” Tom said. “They’re at the Bush Bar and Grill.”

  “Now?” Kate’s voice grew strained. “Tom, is this some kind of joke? Some crude attempt to rile me? Because if it is, it isn’t bloody well funny.”

  Tom swallowed. “No joke, Kate. I promise.”

  “Well, I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation,” Kate said quickly. “Anyway, he hates her guts so if he is there, it’ll be under duress. You’re there now, I take it?”

  “Yup.”

  “Well, maybe I’ll just call him,” Kate said, sounding distracted. “Find out why … um, so look, thanks Tom.”

  “No problem. I’ll be here for a while. In case you …”

  “Great! Okay, then, ‘bye!”

  Tom frowned and made his way back to his table. “Have you finished?” he asked Lucy, watching Penny and Joe like a hawk. “Only I’ve rather lost my appetite.”

  Kate smiled at her reflection in her hallway mirror as brightly as she could, but the smile didn’t get past her lips. She’d called Joe. Asked him in a sweet, relaxed way if he was on his way. And he’d told her that he was “in the middle of something.” That he might not make it round tonight after all. Just like that.

  The thing was, though, she told herself firmly, he still could have been telling the truth. He and Penny had worked together—there was no reason why they might not be discussing some future project. The fact was, he hated the woman, so there was no reason to feel remotely worried. Okay, so Penny was the biggest bitch in the world and had pushed Kate out of a job, but Joe didn’t know that. Maybe the advert had been really well received and they were going to do a follow-up.

  Kate smiled again, and this time she managed to bring a little sparkle to her eyes. She would just wander down to the Bush Bar and Grill, she decided. She wasn’t meant to know Joe was there, so he couldn’t accuse her of checking up on him. And when Joe saw her, no doubt he’d be relieved to be able to get away from Penny. Kate would think of some cutting comment to direct at her archnemesis, and then she and Joe would leave. And hopefully Tom would still be there to witness it, too. After the other evening Tom was the last person she wanted feeling sorry for her.

  Pulling on a coat, and turning her mind to a biting insult that would cut Penny to the quick, Kate grabbed her keys and made her way outside.

  It was a warmish, drizzly evening—not wet enough for an umbrella, but wet enough to sabotage any attempts at non-frizzy hair. So much for her coiffure, she thought grumpily. Elizabeth Stallwood would no doubt have her wear a headscarf, but you had to draw the line somewhere.

  She got to the Bush Bar and Grill in less than five minutes and stood in the entrance for at least another five, trying to calm her heart, which was racing with adrenaline. It was just Penny and Joe, she kept telling herself. Her boyfriend and a washed-up has-been who was probably desperately trying to seduce Joe, whilst he was no doubt laughing at her. The two of them would giggle about it later, and she would wonder what on earth she’d got so worried about.

  Not that she was worried. She wasn’t worried at all.

  Tossing her hair back, she fixed a smile back on her face and walked along the little alley that separated the Bush Bar and Grill from Goldhawk Road, then stepped inside.

  It was warm and smoky, and she took off her coat, then made her way to the bar. The trick was to look casual, she told herself, turning round surreptitiously to survey the room. There was no sign of Tom anywhere, she noticed. And no sign of Joe and Penny …

  Then she frowned. There they were. Sitting at a small table to the left.

  Quickly, she turned round again, her heart thudding. Then she ordered a drink, picked it up, and, taking a deep breath, made her way over.

  “Darling!” she said, a few feet from the table. Neither Joe nor Penny noticed her, and she cleared her throat. “Joe!” she said as she arrived at the table and saw with some consternation his shocked face. “What a surprise!”

  Then she looked at Penny. “Penny. How sweet of you to look after Joe for me.” She smiled confidently and waited for Joe to spring into action. To get her a chair, to tell her that he and Penny were just finishing their work discussion, to stand up and kiss her and make it completely clear to Penny and anyone else that he and she were crazy about each other.

  But instead, he just looked at her awkwardly and said in a strangled voice, “I thought you were at home.”

  Kate swallowed. “I was,” she said, as brightly as she could manage in the circumstances, “but I decided to come out for a drink.”

  “On your own?” Penny asked. “How sad.”

  Kate narrowed her eyes at her. “Not on my own, actually. With a friend. So, Joe, are you going to be long? Talking work with Penny, I mean?” She smiled at Penny. “I mean, I can’t imagine that you two would have anything else to talk about.”

  “Actually we’ve got rather a lot to discuss,” Penny said silkily “And Kate, by the way, I was so sad to hear that you lost your job today. Such a shame.”

  Kate put her hand on the table. Her legs were beginning to feel rather weak.

  “Well, at least I won’t have to work with you anymore!” she said with a bright smile. “Every cloud certainly has its silver lining!”

  Penny’s eyes hardened. “Joe,” she said smoothly, “maybe it’s time you told Kate about us.”

  Joe shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

  “Joe?” Kate asked, frowning. “What’s Penny talking about? Are you doing another job together or something?”

  Penny laughed. “A job? Oh, dear me, you really are naïve, aren’t you?”

  Kate looked at Joe and swallowed. “Joe?” she asked pleadingly.

  He sighed. “Jeez, Kate. I’m sorry. I just…” He looked at Penny, then stood up to face Kate. “We … I mean, Penny and I … we

  “We’re together,” Penny said, cold as ice. “Joe and I have fallen in love. The poor boy’s been too terrified to tell you. So it’s probably best if you run along now.”

  Kate felt like her legs might buckle beneath her.

  “But you hate her,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “You said she was arrogant and selfish and self-absorbed. …”

  Joe shrugged helplessly. “I guess I was wrong,” he said, looking at the floor.

  “Kate, love, have some dignity, why don’t you?” Penny said with a sigh. “You’ve lost your job and lost your man—maybe you need to start asking yourself a few questions about yourself, huh?”

  Kate stared at Penny. “You total bitch,” she said, very low. “You are an evil, horrible woman.”

  Penny smiled brightly. “Who has a job and a very good-looking boyfriend, wouldn’t you say? Now, Joe, I think it’s time to go. Don’t you?” She stood up and clicked her fingers at Joe, who reluctantly handed her her coat.

  “I’m real sorry,” he said to Kate. “I was going to call you. Tell you some other way.”

  Kate said nothing. She simply watched as Penny slipped her arm through Joe’s and started to walk toward the entrance.

  It wasn’t until they were nearly there that she r
an after them.

  “But you can’t…” she yelped as she reached the door and saw Penny and Joe walking along the alley toward the street. “Joe, we’ve got a connection. You said I was special. …”

  As she spoke, she was blinded by flashing lights, and she stumbled, falling back against the wall. Confused, she watched as Joe wrapped his arms around Penny and they both smiled beatifically for the cameras, as if they were on a red carpet somewhere, not coming out of a bar in Shepherd’s Bush.

  She allowed herself to sink down to the ground.

  But before she could, someone appeared at her side.

  “Quick, let’s get out of here,” a familiar voice said. “Take my hand. And repeat after me: Men are pigs. The whole bloody lot of them.”

  22

  “You may as well say it,” Kate said unhappily.

  “Say what?”

  They were sitting on her sofa, Kate holding a cushion defensively to her stomach, her legs curled underneath her, and Tom beside her, his legs stretched out onto the coffee table.

  “That you were right. That I’m an idiot and a hopeless romantic and that you knew it was all going to end in tears.”

  “You’re not an idiot. Joe’s an idiot.”

  Kate nodded. “Penny,” she said in a wondering tone. “I mean, of all the people. Why Penny?”

  “It was probably voodoo,” Tom said. “I can’t think of another reason why anyone would contemplate sleeping with her.”

  “You think he’s slept with her?” Kate asked, clasping her hand to her mouth. “Oh, God. Oh, how horrible.”

  “No, no,” Tom said, appalled. “I didn’t mean that….”

  “But he’s going to, isn’t he. He’s going to go to bed with her and he’s going to kiss her and …”

  Tears started to prick at Kate’s eyes and she vigorously wiped them away. “He was my perfect man,” she whispered. “It was all going so well.”

  “Your perfect man is one who doesn’t even have the courtesy to dump you before running off with Penny Pennington?”

  Kate shrugged. “She’ll have made him do it. The point is, I was promised love, and along came Joe, and now he’s out with that… that bitch.”

  Tom raised his eyebrows. “You were promised love?” he asked. “Look, we all think we’ve been promised all sorts of things, but there are no guarantees in this life—”

  “No, but there are!” Kate said indignantly. “Find love or your money back. And now I probably won’t even qualify, because I did find love.”

  “You got a money-back guarantee?” Tom asked, taken aback.

  Kate blanched slightly but admitted, “It’s a book I got. The Hopeless Romantic’s Handbook. It said on eBay that I was guaranteed to find love.”

  Tom’s eyes widened. “You’re reading a book called The Hopeless Romantic’s Handbook? You don’t think you’re hopeless enough without getting advice on the subject? And don’t believe everything you read on eBay, either. Poor little Kate. It’s no wonder you get so upset about things.”

  “I don’t get upset about things; I get upset about manipulative cows like Penny,” Kate said fiercely. “God, I hate that woman. I hate her so much.”

  “No point,” Tom said. “You hate her and she won’t even know. And it’ll eat you up and make you angry and you’ll blame her even more, but there’ll be no point because she barely knows you exist.”

  Kate frowned. “Are we still talking about Penny here? Because I guarantee she knows I exist.”

  Tom smiled. “Sorry. You’re right, she does.” He sighed. “I’ve just learned over the years that letting anger go is the best thing you can do.”

  Kate nodded, remembering the hurt in Tom’s voice the first time he told her that his mother had left. He’d said it so casually, on the way home from school one day; just dropped it into conversation as if it was normal, as if, if he didn’t attach any significance to it, it wouldn’t be significant. But could you really let go of anger over that kind of betrayal? she wondered. She didn’t think she could.

  Kate studied him silently. “Is that why you don’t believe in happy endings?” she asked, her voice small.

  Tom frowned. “I believe,” he said pointedly, “that this subject is now closed. I also believe in the healing powers of Billie Holiday, whiskey, and dancing. What do you say?”

  Kate couldn’t help but grin. “You actually expect me to dance with you? I’ve lost my boyfriend and my job and been totally screwed over by a bitch with straw-colored hair and you expect me to dance?”

  “I’m a doctor,” Tom said. “People always do what I tell them to do. So come on, stand up.” He grabbed her hand, tossed the cushion away, and dragged her to a standing position. Then he put a CD in Kate’s stereo, took her hands again and, as the music played, he started to sing. Badly.

  “Stormy weather,” he crooned.

  “‘Cause my man and me ain’t together,” Kate joined in.

  “Keeps raining all the time …”

  Tom grinned and pulled her closer. “See, not so bad now, is it?” he asked. “Billie feels your pain, and spits it out. She’s a miracle worker, really.”

  As they started to spin around her sitting room, Kate smiled nervously. She had danced with Tom plenty of times before—even sung Billie Holiday songs with him—but something felt different this time. Their bodies were pressed so close together that she could smell the skin of his neck, feel his heart beating in his chest. She had an almost overwhelming urge to pull him even closer, to kiss him, to …

  “Didn’t you promise me whiskey?” she asked quickly, pulling a bit away.

  “So I did.” Tom met her eyes and for a second Kate was terrified that he could see what she’d been thinking, but then he grinned and made his way to the kitchen. “Do you still keep your alcohol in the same cupboard as the ketchup?”

  Kate took a deep breath. This was very silly. It was just Tom. And any strange feelings were just due to her hurt over Joe, nothing more.

  But when Tom reappeared at the door carrying whiskey and two glasses, and when she met his eyes for a second time and this time couldn’t tear hers away, she wasn’t so sure anymore. Suddenly Tom didn’t seem like Tom anymore. He looked like an incredibly attractive man who had saved her from the stone floor outside the Bush Bar and Grill.

  Still smiling nervously, she finally pulled her eyes away and went to sit back down on the sofa. Tom poured her a glass and passed it to her before sitting down. The sofa was old and sagging in the middle and as soon as he sat, they found their legs touching. Tom pulled his away self-consciously and shifted to a different position, but it was no use—however he sat, his legs ended up almost on top of Kate’s. Neither of them had said a word since he’d gone to get the whiskey, and the air felt tense and heavy.

  “Shall we … put the television on?” Kate suggested.

  “Ah, the television,” Tom said with a little smile. “The panacea to modern life.”

  “Fine, no TV,” she said quietly. She took a sip of the whiskey and coughed when it burnt her throat.

  “That’s my girl,” Tom said. “By the time you’ve finished that glass you won’t remember who Joe or Penny are, let alone why you’re upset with them.”

  Kate smiled weakly and took another sip, then another, and another, until the glass was empty.

  “Joe who?” she said.

  “There you go,” Tom said, grinning. “And now, madam, it’s late. Time for you to go to bed.”

  The word bed seemed to hang in the air for a few seconds, and Tom stood up, Kate following him.

  “Stay a bit longer?” Kate said before she could stop herself.

  “You … you want me to stay?”

  Kate nodded. And as she lifted her head, she saw Tom looking at her with an unreadable expression. She held his gaze, challenging him, and they stood for what felt like hours, staring into each other’s eyes, each daring the other to look away.

  And then she suddenly felt Tom’s lips on hers. Tender a
t first, then urgent, his arms around her tightly. Her hands reached around his back, up to his neck. It felt exciting, thrilling, but safe, too. Like she was coming home. Like she’d finally found her place.

  And then he pulled away.

  “I’d better go.” His voice was hoarse. “Now is not the time.”

  Kate nodded mutely, knowing he was right, but not wanting to see him leave.

  He looked at her for a moment, then kissed her forehead. “Sleep well,” he said. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Tom?” Kate said, as he headed for the door.

  “What?”

  “You were wrong,” she said, a little smile on her lips. “Men aren’t all pigs.”

  “Right,” Tom said uncertainly, then grinned. “Right.”

  23

  Sal picked up the phone as soon as it started ringing. It was a reflex— anything that happened before ten A.M. at the weekend was dealt with by her, as quietly as possible. Ed survived on six hours of sleep a night Monday to Friday and without a lie-in at the weekend he simply couldn’t function. And last night he hadn’t got back until late. Very late. Sal knew the exact time, because she had only got in twenty minutes before. It had been the first time she’d been thankful that Ed’s work kept him out with clients into the small hours.

  And, in many ways, it was Ed’s fault that she’d been so late back. If she thought about it enough, she could even persuade herself it was entirely his fault. But she knew it wasn’t.

  The truth of the matter was that she hadn’t wanted to go for a drink with Jim. Or at least, she’d rather hoped that something would stop her. She’d called Ed at work and asked if he fancied getting a take-away that evening, but he’d apologized profusely, said he thought he’d told her that he had a thing that night, and could they do it on Saturday instead? She’d even asked if he wanted her to accompany him on his soulless client entertainment evening, something she had never ever done since a disastrous occasion two years before when Ed’s boss had stared at her cleavage all night and tried to grope her ass as he helped her on with her coat at the end of the evening. But Ed had said no—said it would be bad enough for him, but that there was no reason she should endure it, too. He even said that she should go for a drink with her friends. That she didn’t seem to have been out much lately. When she’d said pointedly that she hadn’t been out with him much lately, he’d told her to get off his case: He was busy and the last thing he needed was her nagging him.