by Rosa Temple
‘I beg your pardon?’ I said to her and then looked over at her dinner date whose face was growing into a deeper scowl by the second.
‘Take this one,’ she said, flicking a hand towards her scowling dinner date. ‘Always a snappy dresser when we met. Kind, considerate, always made sure I came. Now look at him. I have no idea where they even sell shirts like that and he hasn’t noticed I’ve had my hair done.’
‘I said it was nice,’ her date shouted across to me.
‘Only after I said I had it done,’ she said not looking at him. ‘Do yourself a favour, love.’ She grabbed my wrist. ‘Everything they offer to do or buy, say yes because a few years down the line they don’t offer to do anything for you. How long you been married?’ she asked, turning to look Hugo up and down.
‘We’re not married,’ I said.
‘Keep it that way,’ she said. And then, turning to the date I assumed was her husband, she said, ‘Get the bill; that babysitter charges double after ten.’
They left shortly after, while Hugo and I tried hard not to laugh or look at the way she pushed him towards the door. She wished me good luck before she left.
Hugo was finishing the last dregs of wine, laughing into the bottom of his glass.
‘I wonder how long they’ve been together?’ I asked, watching them leave. ‘Ten years? Twenty?’
‘No idea but too long by the sounds of it.’
‘Imagine if we’d been together ten years,’ I said, not thinking first. ‘Think we would have ended up like that?’
Hugo was serious and reached for my hand. ‘Never. I couldn’t see that happening.’
A waiter was clearing tables around us. We were one of the last sets of diners left and now the bar was thinning out.
‘We should go,’ I said.
‘What would you like to do next?’ Hugo asked.
‘It’s late. I’m not sure.’ I didn’t want Hugo to go just yet. ‘Can we walk a while?’
When we left, the temptation to walk down the Portobello Road, as we did on the first night we met, was immense. I angled us in the other direction, past Holland Park, right by my street.
‘I live up here,’ I said, again not thinking. I didn’t want it to sound like an invitation. Hugo took it as one.
‘I’m not opposed to a coffee,’ he said. I smiled. I did want him to come home with me.
We walked up my road and Hugo took my hand. We’d stopped talking and my heels echoed on the pavement.
‘This is me,’ I said waving a hand up at the tall house. ‘I’m on the top floor.’
‘I love these old houses,’ Hugo said. ‘So full of history.’ I trotted up the front steps to open the door. It was quiet inside, I wondered if everyone was out on a date. My flat was in a bit of a mess, clothes scattered between the walk-in wardrobe and my bedroom, but he wouldn’t see them unless he needed the loo, which of course he did.
‘Second on the left,’ I said. ‘I’ll make coffee.’
In the kitchen I did a quick rinse of my breakfast things and tried to make the kitchen look presentable and inviting in the few minutes it took for Hugo to find me.
‘Nearly done,’ I said. ‘I hope you don’t mind instant. I haven’t been to the shops in a while. Busy at work.’
‘I can imagine.’
‘Take a seat and I’ll bring it through.’
Hugo looked at home on my big red sofa. Very comfortable. I put on some music, a track already lined up in the player from earlier, and I sat beside him. Before I could catch my breath, Hugo leaned in and kissed me. He stroked my arm. It wasn’t intended to be seductive I don’t think, but my body responded in that way. Before I knew it we were in a romantic tangle, stretched out along the sofa and no sign of either breaking away. I eventually had to catch my breath, about the time Hugo’s hand was under my bright red top and running a finger over the lace of my bra.
‘Hugo,’ I said.
‘Mmm?’
‘Our coffee is cold.’
He smiled and we sat up.
‘I could always stick them in the microwave for a second,’ I said getting up and adjusting my clothes. He reached out and held my hand before I could grab the cups.
‘I’m not bothered about coffee. In fact I never usually drink it this late.’
‘And I’ve got work in the morning.’
Hugo pulled me back to sitting and held my cheeks in his palms.
‘You want me to go?’ he asked.
I shook my head. ‘But I’m afraid.’
‘Don’t be. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Okay?’ Hugo got up and took my hand. He knew the way to the bedroom and led me there. In the true tradition of our first encounter we were naked and in bed very quickly, but this time it was different. This time we stripped off facing each other and didn’t rip the clothes off the other in two seconds flat and dive backwards onto the bed. This time Hugo held the covers open for me to climb in and then lay beside me.
I rested my head on his chest and he stroked my thick hair and then ran his forefinger up and down my arm. This time, we fell asleep, without having had sex. It was beautiful.
Chapter 30
The morning played out a little differently to the night before. I woke with my hair masking my face, cheek smooshed into the pillow and I’d been dribbling. I felt Hugo stir and I felt him roll towards me. I also felt a firm indication that he was completely awake and ready to take being in bed naked to the next phase. I rolled onto my back and squinted up at him. Hugo went to kiss me. I turned my face and covered my eyes with my fist.
‘No, Hugo, I haven’t brushed my teeth.’
‘Don’t worry, I won’t tell your dentist if you don’t.’ He kissed my neck, softly, slowly. My fisted hands moved away from my face and to his smooth back. I held him and sighed and I knew I’d be powerless to make any more of a fuss. I gave in to my instincts. I didn’t regret having called Hugo, having seen him again or having him come back to my flat, not one little bit.
Later I lay facing the ceiling as Hugo lay on his stomach staring at my profile.
‘You have a beautiful face, Magenta.’
I turned to look at him. I smiled. ‘I have to go to work. It’s getting late. I’ll make us something to eat.’
‘Allow me,’ he said, jumping up. ‘You get ready and I’ll make us breakfast.’
‘I don’t have much in the fridge,’ I said watching his tight buttocks disappear into his trousers.
‘You’d be surprised what you can do with very little.’
He went into the kitchen and I lay for a while, thinking about the night before and the wonderful morning so far. I closed my eyes and started doing a crazy dance of joy while still in bed.
‘You’re right.’ Hugo was back in the room. I stopped dancing and sat bolt upright. ‘Um, you have less than nothing much in the fridge,’ Hugo said putting his shirt on. ‘I’ll run to the shop and buy something.’
‘Oh, Hugo, there’s no need.’
‘Already gone,’ Hugo called from the hallway. ‘You carry on dancing.’ The door clicked closed. I continued my bed dancing for a moment before dragging myself to the shower.
I cleared the kitchen for Hugo to have clean surfaces to work with. I then contemplated calling Anya to tell her what happened but Hugo was buzzing from downstairs and my analysis of the date with Hugo would have to wait until later.
As I got dressed for work I could hear Hugo singing in the kitchen. He had a great singing voice and I wondered if he ever sang in his band. The band I never got to see and the band that dragged him away from me all those years ago. But I was tired of dredging up the past. Hugo, the new and improved Hugo, was right here, in my kitchen, making me breakfast and I was happy.
After getting changed I breezed into the kitchen and inhaled. He’d bought fresh coffee and made omelettes and slices of toast.
‘This looks and smells divine, Hugo. You’re a good cook.’
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‘Taste it first,’ he said, putting plates on the table. ‘You might change your mind when you do.’
He had the radio in the kitchen on. He’d been singing along to it as he cooked.
‘It is good,’ I said. ‘I might just have you to do this every morning.’
‘Just say the word, Magenta.’
His expression was serious. I took a big gulp of coffee and averted my eyes.
‘I should hurry,’ I said. ‘Mustn’t be late.’
‘Of course,’ Hugo said with a smile.
He walked me to the train station and we kissed while holding hands.
‘When can we do this again?’ he asked. ‘I’m not in any rush to go back to Cumbria.’
‘Then … then let me call you later and we’ll see.’
He kissed my cheek.
‘That suits me,’ he said. ‘I’ll speak to you later.’
I was reluctant to leave him but if I stayed any longer I could imagine us walking back to my flat and staying in bed for the rest of the day. It was tempting but I pulled away and left him on the street as I swiped my Oyster Card and disappeared underground.
Anthony wasn’t in when I arrived at about eleven-thirty that morning. Cassandra either smiled or grimaced at me, I couldn’t tell which but I rushed up to my office to call Anya.
‘You dirty girl,’ she said from under her covers. Anya didn’t get up until after midday unless she had work or an appointment.
‘There was nothing dirty about it. It was like a dream. I’m telling you. All the bad feeling, all the hurt I felt for Hugo has gone. Pouf. Vanished.’ I snapped my fingers. ‘It’s like I met a brand new man and we really, really clicked. It’s incredible.’
‘That’s amazing. So is he still as good in bed?’
‘Better. He knows lots more. All the travelling around the world has paid off. His repertoire is international.’
‘Just as long as he didn’t pick anything up on his travels.’
‘Don’t worry, I had it covered. Literally.’
I was laughing so loudly, and not facing the door, I didn’t hear Anthony come into my office. He cleared his throat.
‘Anthony.’ I jumped. ‘I wasn’t expecting you in so soon. Did you get an early train?’
‘Didn’t make it to that cottage in the end. Long story. I’ll catch up with you in a bit.’
He ducked out and left me looking baffled at my closing door with Anya yelling, ‘Are you still there?’ in the background.
‘Yes. I’m here,’ I said. ‘But Anthony’s back. He looks awful. Maybe we’ll pick this up again later?’
‘Sure, darling. You get going. I need some more sleep.’
I hung up and made my way to Anthony’s office. I knocked on the door, although I never normally did that but then Anthony’s office door was very rarely closed.
‘Come in.’ He was taking off his jacket and looked sullen.
‘I can’t help getting the feeling that something happened with your plans last night, Anthony.’
‘Oh. Right. Is it that obvious?’ he said slumping into his chair.
‘Well, if I’m reading your body language correctly, then yes it’s very obvious. Did something come up? Is that why you and Inez didn’t go for the romantic getaway?’
‘Something came up all right. Inez and I had a blazing row.’
‘Goodness me. What bad timing. Couldn’t you have put the icky stuff on hold until after the year’s most romantic night of all?’ I was trying to make him crack a smile.
‘It’s not the first time the icky stuff, as you call it, has come up. Yes, it’s happening a lot lately.’
‘Come on out with it, Anthony. I’m very good at solving other people’s relationship problems.’
‘Well, I’m not so sure about this. Our argument, like I say, it’s come up before. It’s one Inez can’t seem to drop.’
‘What’s it about?’
He sighed, heavily. ‘It’s about you, Magenta.’
It was at this point that I thought I heard the theme tune of Dallas trumpeting in at the cliffhanger, or was it the dum, dum, dums of EastEnders at the end of an instalment? I wasn’t sure. My mind seemed to do a backflip and not land straight. I wasn’t sure I heard him right. Did Anthony just tell me that he and Inez had argued about me? That it wasn’t the first time? He was looking at me for a response and I wasn’t sure how I should react. Surprised? Flattered? Shocked? In truth, I was all those things; but I didn’t want to go all drama queen on the situation. I needed to play it down.
‘Maybe she’s missing you because you spend a lot of time in the office … with me,’ I said in a level voice. ‘I mean Inez hardly knows me. I haven’t exchanged more than a few words with her in the short time I’ve known her.’
‘Six months, Magenta, almost seven now.’
‘Yes, but still.’
‘I suppose in that time, I must have spoken to Inez about you maybe a little too often. I mean it’s hardly surprising. Magenta, you are Shearman. You were the saviour of this company and I guess I’ve been singing your praises a little too loudly at home.’
‘Well where else are you going to talk about work? Surely Inez could be a little more understanding. Doesn’t she talk about her job to you over dinner when you get home?’
‘No. But it’s not that. She doesn’t mind talking work but not if it’s to do with you.’
I said nothing. I was struggling for the right comeback.
‘It’s just that Inez, she thinks that … Inez is convinced I’ve fallen in love with you.’ This time it was the Dallas soundtrack I could hear and I waited until the high-pitched strings at the end of the signature tune before I could speak again.
‘But you told her she’s wrong, Anthony? You’ve told her you’re not in love with me.’
He didn’t answer.
‘Now that’s where you made your mistake,’ I said crossing my arms and trying to be matter-of-fact when I was bursting inside to run and call Anya. ‘If your fiancée asks if you’re in love with your PA you answer. Straight away. No pauses. You tell her an emphatic no. You convince her she’s wrong.’
‘The problem is, I’m finding it hard to convince myself she’s wrong, let alone her,’ said Anthony.
I got up.
‘Anthony, no.’ I shook my finger at him. ‘Don’t do this to me. You’re confused. We’ve worked closely together. I’ve impressed you because I made a few lucky calls. I’m not as good as all that. I’m not. I’m just me. The one you thought would last two seconds.’
‘But, Magenta …’
‘No. Anthony. No, I don’t want to hear this. Not now. Okay?’ I held my finger up to stop him saying the words I could see about to spill from his lips. ‘Not now.’
I left quickly, closing the door. I stood with my back to it, gripping the handle so he wouldn’t come out and follow me. How was I supposed to deal with this? Why was it I’d been lonely, alone and upset for months because the two men in my life who, up until yesterday, were terrible prospects, suddenly both wanted me? And the shocking thing was – I wanted both of them. (Cue the Dallas music.)
Chapter 31
In the basement bar and restaurant around the back of Marble Arch, I sat and waited for Anya to arrive. We’d been having to find obscure and off the beaten track places to meet, if we met at all, because so many more people knew Anya Stankovic than ever before.
Clinique was able to increase their screen advertising since it was discovered she was dating disgraced (now ex) politician Henry Bowser. Anya’s small-screen appearances had doubled. That, topped with all the press coverage since Henry’s decision to leave office, led to other brands wanting Anya to be their poster girl. She was now in the M&S spring collection adverts instead of Twiggy; she’d taken over from Natalie Portman in the Chanel commercials, too. The basement venue was our last bastion in the West End; it was our best bet for being off the public radar.
Having said all that, I did notice the girl behind the bar take a sneaky picture of Anya when she arrived for our little tête-à-tête regarding Anthony and Hugo.
‘So vot are you going to do about Ango?’ she asked, breezing up to me in a wave of Chanel and carrying a Per Una handbag.
‘Ango?’ I said, pouring wine from the bottle I’d already drained by a considerable amount.
‘I decided to do a mash-up of Anthony and Hugo’s names,’ said Anya. ‘I thought Hugony vos too much of a mouthful.’ She sipped wine and clicked her fingers at the girl on the bar who ran over straight away. ‘Get me two rare steaks with steamed vegetables and bring me an empty side plate.’ She dismissed the girl and turned to me. ‘You’re not too depressed to eat are you, darling? It’s Friday and I eat on Friday.’
‘I could eat the whole cow,’ I said, downing too much wine at once, considering it was a good one. ‘I’m so confused. What do I do with Anthony? And what shall I do about Hugo who’ll be in his Airbnb apartment waiting for me to call him about meeting up this evening?’
‘There’s still time to meet him. Ve’ll eat and make a plan. Okay?’
By the time Anya had carved a child-sized portion of her meal and put it onto the spare plate and I had ingested the part she’d left behind and most of my own steak, we had come up with a plan. Well, Anya had.
‘It’s obvious. Anthony is a flake. First of all, he is an artist dressed as a businessman in a business he has no place to be in. In fact, he shouldn’t be engaged either if he’s falling in love vith other vimin left, right and centre. And that only adds up to one thing.’ She looked at me with those feline eyes, waiting for my answer but I was swilling down wine at a rate of knots and I wasn’t really sure what she was getting at.
Anya sighed. ‘He’s unreliable, Madge. You’re the von who told me he might be selling up after a year. Vot if he leaves that girl for you and sells you up in a year?’
I swallowed air and didn’t answer. Anya went on.
‘That leaves drummer boy turned vorld traveller and entrepreneur from Cumbria. Apart from the fact that I love, love, love the name Hugo, he has a list of pluses to his profile.’