Confessions of a Serial Dater

by Michelle Cunnah

  “I chose it specially,” Gran says, cackling. “Right, best wishes of the season to you, Patsy—thanks for the invite. Now I’m going to mingle for a bit and check out the lovely grub.” Gran the Imperturbable cuts an unmissable red, green and black swathe across the room in the direction of the buffet.

  “Sandra, is that a new hairdo?” Pat asks my mother. “Remind me to give you the number of my personal stylist—Roman is such a whiz with fly-away hair.”

  “How is the mother-to-be?” I jump in, because I don’t like the supercilious way Pat insults people by making it sound like false praise, and I want to rattle her a bit. Any clues as to the identity of the father yet? I don’t ask, because I am trying for peace and serenity, but I am sorely tempted. I know it’s a bit horrible of me, and I have no issue at all with unmarried mothers. Really. I think it’s all about personal choice.

  But until now Pat has had An Opinion about babies out of holy matrimony. An unfavorable one. And she hasn’t been afraid of voicing it to anyone who would listen, either.

  “Dear Elaine,” Pat says, making a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn on previous policy. “Such a brave girl to do this by herself. I’ve always said that too many opt for terminations because they just cannot be bothered to shoulder their responsibilities. But my Elaine is soldiering on alone.”

  I hardly think that Elaine will be alone, friendless and living in squalor, desperately trying to make ends meet.

  “Sandra, Rosie, how lovely to see you both.” Auntie Lizzy, mother of Flora and Philip, saves the moment. “Sandra, what a lovely dress. Now I’m sure our hostess has a lot to do,” she says, flashing Auntie Pat a false smile as she takes Mum’s arm and leads her into the heaving drawing room. “Let’s get you fixed up with a drink.”

  It also fires up Pat’s blue blood that Uncle Gregory, Dad’s other brother, married Auntie Lizzy, and therefore far above himself. Auntie Lizzy’s father was a Lord of the Realm. This means that Auntie Lizzy, who also has a very aristocratic nose, but a very nice one, is above Aunt Patricia in the social pecking order.

  This is a fact that delights us all enormously, because when Auntie Pat is unbearable (which is a frequent occurrence), Auntie Lizzy puts her in her place.

  “Elaine’s just about to make her Christmas speech, and it would have been a shame for you to miss it,” Pat tells me, and I wonder why Elaine needs to make a speech.

  I have a bad feeling about this, I really do. But instead of rising to the bait, I rise above petty sarcasm.

  “Lovely,” I say, brightly.

  “Go ahead,” Pat smiles evilly. “I’m sure you know everyone in the room.”

  And as I walk into the noisy, heaving drawing room, I scan the room for my friends, because after the day I’ve had with the rich cat and the shoe gift, I need a reality check. They are not hard to spot on account of Jess’s pink hair.

  And as Carmen waves at me from the far corner, and as I begin to weave my way through the masses, I realize that I have forgotten all about Flora’s mysterious Ned. And then someone taps me on the shoulder.

  I am so glad that I wore my “fuck me” little black dress, plus the uncomfortable, yet also “fuck me,” stiletto heels. I am also glad that I took extra care with my makeup and hair.

  Glad, because it’s always a good plan to look one’s best when confronted by a cheating ex-boyfriend, don’t you think?

  “Hello, Rosie,” the tall, handsome man says in my ear, and I wish I had a stiff drink in my hand, because I could do with one. Or possibly more…

  It is Harry Winterton.

  Odd, how I was thinking about him only the other day…

  Thinking of stiff drinks inevitably reminds me of the last time I saw Harry, because it was upstairs in my mother’s bedroom.

  Harry of the Elaine blow job.

  “God, it’s lovely to see you. You’re looking as gorgeous as ever,” he tells me, his white teeth gleaming as he smiles his naughty-boy smile. “If not, in fact, more gorgeous.”

  So is he. The preceding seven years have been very good to him, and at twenty-eight, he is as charming and blond as ever, with that same naughty-boy glint in his eye, as ever. Actually, his hair is blonder.

  “You’re looking blonder than ever,” is not the most friendly riposte in the world, but that is precisely what comes out of my mouth. “Great highlights. Expensive highlights.”

  “Well, I had it done especially because I knew I’d see you tonight,” he flirts at me, ignoring my sarcasm. “Was it worth it, do you think?”

  “Oh, I make it a policy never to trust a man who spends more on his hair than I do. Still as vain as ever, then.”

  What the hell is he doing here?

  As soon as the question pops into my brain, I know the answer. Elaine asked him, of course. Although why is a mystery…. Could Harry be the mysterious father?

  “Still as unforgiving as ever?” His words are gentle, pleading, little-boy cute, and for a moment, just for a moment, I remember the good times, and my pulse picks up speed.

  And then I see Carmen and Jess weaving their way through the crowd to rescue me. Lovely of them, but there’s no need because this man broke my twenty-one-year-old heart, and no way will he get the chance to do it again. And do it again he surely would.

  Harry the Heartbreaker was his name at university. The same age as me, but years ahead in terms of sophistication and charm, I didn’t stand a chance when he set his sights on me and wooed me into his bed. I should have realized that handsome bad boys such as Harry never settle for less-than-gorgeous girlfriends like me. They settle for people like Elaine.

  I can rescue myself.

  “It’s kind of a hard image to get out of my mind. You know, you, on the bed, with your pants down, and your di—”

  “I’m sorry,” he interrupts, holding up a hand. More little-boy cuteness. “I never meant to hurt—”

  “Did you fuck her?” Oh. I’m not usually so crude. But then, I don’t usually find myself chatting to Harry. In fact, I haven’t spoken to him since that fateful night.

  I never asked Elaine if she’d actually slept with him, because she would have lied to me either way and said yes, just to dig the knife in a bit deeper.

  “It wasn’t like that—”

  He’s about to tell me that it was just a bit of fun gone too far, and that it was me he cared about, really, but I don’t give him the chance.

  “Harry, what are you doing here, anyway?”

  “Darling, Rosie, so lovely to see you,” Elaine squeaks. And then, “Oh, I hope it doesn’t bring back too many bad memories, you know, seeing Harry again after all this time.”

  “I’d practically forgotten,” I lie, but my face is red.

  “It’s just that my pregnancy has made me want to reconcile the whole world,” she tinkles. “And when Harry and I bumped into each other in Fortnum & Mason’s, it seemed like fate.”

  Spite, more like, I think as Elaine smiles spitefully. And I wonder, as I have done over the years, why she makes such an effort to hate me and belittle me. Well, not only me, because she does it to Flora and Philip, too. I mean, it must be so tiring.

  “And when she asked me to the Christmas party, I couldn’t resist seeing you again,” Harry flirts at me again, which brings a frown to Elaine’s brow. “We parted under such a black cloud, I never forgave myself for—”

  “Well, that’s all water under the bridge now, isn’t it?” Elaine says brightly as she places a hand on his arm. At that moment I could almost kiss Harry for flirting with me, rather than with Elaine. Almost.

  “Look, here’s my phone number,” Harry says, reaching into his jacket pocket and handing me his card. Which under the circumstances is rather presumptive of him. “If you ever feel like going out for a drink, or for dinner—”

  “Oh, but didn’t I tell you?” Elaine jumps right back in. “Silly me, I must have forgotten, but Rosie’s practically engaged, aren’t you, darling?” Elaine smiles her little cat smile of satisfa
ction. “Speaking of which, where is your lovely man?”

  “Oh, things were getting far too serious,” I tell her, all nonchalant. Because I’m suspecting that the whole point of this encounter is to embarrass me in front of my family, friends and Jonathan. “I decided to cool it a bit. You know, take a break from each other, see how I felt come the New Year.”

  “But you seemed so happy together.” Elaine is nonplussed. “I mean, he’s such a lovely man.”

  “Well, if you’re that interested, I’d be happy to pass him on to you. Just let me know if you’d like his number.” No, I have no intention of doing so, but it is worth a shot just to see the expression on her face. Take that, Elaine, I think.

  “Well, I, for one, am rejoicing,” Harry says, and Elaine scowls even more.

  “Don’t get too rejoyceful,” I warn him. “It doesn’t mean that I’m even vaguely interested in picking up where we left off.”

  “No, she certainly isn’t,” is Carmen’s opening line as she and Jess finally reach me on their rescue mission.

  “The cavalry to the rescue.” Harry inclines his head. “Hello, ladies. How are you both?”

  “Dandy and fine,” Carmen tells him airily. “And don’t bother with the charm, we’re immune.”

  “Yes, I remember that aspect of your personality,” Harry says. “Still manless, Carmen?”

  “Oh, didn’t Rosie tell you?” Carmen’s voice is deceptively sweet. “We decided to ditch our men and form a lesbian ménage à trois,” she adds.

  “No,” Elaine squeaks, then laughs her tinkly little laugh. “You are too funny.”

  “You think I’m joking? Come, oh, Sapphic sisterhood,” Carmen says, sliding an arm around me and Jess. “Have fun, you two,” she says, winking at Harry and Elaine. And then, “Oh, I forgot, you already did that.”

  “Naughty,” I say, breathless with laughter.

  “Yeah, but it was worth it just to see their faces.”

  “Are you alright?” Jess asks me. “It was awful, awful of her to do that to you.”

  “We didn’t notice him until a couple of minutes ago,” Carmen says.

  “I’m fine, truly,” I say. Although my stomach is still wobbling a bit. “It was just a bit of a shock, seeing him after all these years.”

  And as we reach the corner, where Philip is deep in conversation with Flora and a tall, handsome man, my stomach starts to wobble some more. At least, I think he’s handsome, because I can only see the back of his head.

  “Here she is,” Flora booms. “Dreadful business,” she adds just to me, under her breath. “I wonder, sometimes, how we can be related to Elaine. But anyway, you’re here now. Darling,” she touches her tall, dark doctor on the arm. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

  I hold my breath as he turns around.

  “You must be Rosie,” he booms, his eyes crinkling nicely in his pleasant face. “Flora’s told me all about you. I’m so pleased to meet you.”

  Not a sardonic eyebrow in sight. Whew.

  And as he looks back adoringly to Flora, the way he really looks at her as if she is the only woman on the face of the planet, I can’t help it. I suddenly imagine “Sweet Mystery of Life, at Last I’ve Found You,” playing in the background.

  “I really like Ned,” I say two hours later, as Jess, Carmen, Philip and I watch him charming Auntie Lizzy and Uncle Gregory. He’s completely perfect for Flora. In fact, he’s like a male version of her. I think this time she really has got it right.

  “He’s perfect for her, perfect,” Jess says, smiling. “Especially the way he looks at her. You can just tell he loves her,” she adds a bit wistfully.

  Aster couldn’t make it because Asteroid Attack was, it seems, booked for a private rave in Chelmsford at the last minute. Jess was a lot disappointed, because she won’t see Aster until New Year’s Eve. He’s heading to his parents’ house for Christmas, followed by a brief, yet unexpected, sojourn to Amsterdam with his friends. But without Jess.

  Personally, I want to break both of his legs for letting her down, but it’s the band’s first paid gig, so also want to actively encourage him. Plus, if I were rich, I would bribe him to stay in Amsterdam and away from Jess forever.

  “Yes,” I say, watching the way Ned’s hand is never far away from Flora’s arm. He can’t seem to stop touching her. “The highlight was the point where Elaine tried to lure him away for the grand tour of the house, and he insisted that Flora go, too. Did you see her face?”

  It was actually quite funny. Elaine really worked the charm, but Ned, it would seem, is immune. She’s not having much luck with men tonight; Harry took off shortly after our brief encounter, and he made a point of reminding me to call him. Elaine was not pleased when I flirted back at him and said I might just do that. Not that I’m going to, because I have more sense, but it was worth it to see the look on Elaine’s face.

  “I foresee wedding bells in the not-too-distant future,” Carmen says a bit bitterly. “Which is lovely for them,” she adds, trying for upbeat, “but not for everyone.”

  She’s worrying too much about the implication of the tropical fish and Paul’s desire for stability.

  “What could be more stable than living together?” Carmen asks us again, rhetorically. “What does he mean, he wants more commitment? They don’t come any more committed than me. My God, I mean, I’m raising his fish, aren’t I?”

  Paul couldn’t make it to the party because he had another emergency photo shoot. Yes, on Christmas Eve. Apparently, his photographer friend is still sick, couldn’t make a swanky, executive party, and asked Paul if he’d do it in his stead.

  Carmen says it’s a lot of money, but she’s not very pleased at being boyfriendless on Christmas Eve.

  I’m pretty unhappy to be generally boyfriendless.

  “It will all sort itself out, you’ll see,” Philip tells her. And then, “Well, I must go and ready myself for the midnight service. I don’t expect there will be many there, but one can only live in hope. Don’t suppose you three want to come and, you know, be my congregation?”

  “That sounds lovely,” I tell him, because it does. A bit of quiet, serene peace and Christmas carols would be very welcome after the week I’ve had. “But I can’t. I have to get Mum and Gran home. Especially Gran,” I add, because Gran has had a very good time with Auntie Pat’s buffet and hot punch, and is weebling just a bit.

  If we stay much longer she will take control of Auntie Pat’s baby grand piano and treat us all to some Old Time Music Hall songs. She’s quite a nifty piano player, and she sings very enthusiastically, but her songs tend toward the bawdy.

  “Count me in,” Carmen says, which is a surprise, because she’s not a church kind of person. “This has got to be one of my worst Christmases so far, and I could do with a bit of spiritual nurturing.”

  “Me, too,” Flora tells him, and Philip beams.

  “Really?”

  “Go on, then,” I tell them glumly. “Desert the sinking ship.”

  “Poor darling,” Carmen hugs me. “You’ve had a shit time just recently.” And then, “Let’s do something special for New Year. Just the gang—I want to spend it with only the people I really love. And Charlie, if he’s not working a gig. You, too, Phil—you don’t have to work, do you?”

  “Er, no. That would be wonderful,” he says.

  “I’d love that,” Jess says, and Philip beams at her again. “But that does include boyfriends, doesn’t it?”

  Before Carmen can say something nasty about Aster, and before Jess can see Philip’s smile slip, Auntie Pat calls for a hush for Elaine’s Christmas message. I thought they’d forgotten, but it seems that we must be tortured.

  “Dearly beloved friends and family,” Elaine says serenely as her blond head shines like a halo in the lamplight. “Thank you for taking the time to spend this evening with us to celebrate the coming of the Lord, and, of course, my own special news.”

  “God, she sounds like the bloody Madonna,”
Carmen whispers in my ear.

  I hope this isn’t going to take long.

  “I’m not going to make a long speech,” she says.

  Thank God.

  “I just wanted to wish you all a very Merry Christmas.”

  That’s it? I can’t believe Auntie Pat made such a performance about Elaine’s speech and that’s it.

  “Christmas is a time of joy, and birth, and giving thanks, but we should also spare a thought for those less fortunate than ourselves—”

  “Watch out, Phil,” Carmen says under her breath. “I think she’s after your job.”

  “Such as the starving, sick and lonely,” Elaine goes on. “I know how it feels to be alone,” she continues, almost tragically. “And I just wanted to add to my cousin Rosie, whose boyfriend tragically broke up with her just before the festive season, that life does go on, and I’m sure she’ll find inner peace if only she places her trust in God.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” Carmen says under her breath as all eyes fall on me. “Sorry, Phil—but I think I may have to kill your cousin.”

  Not if I get to her first, I think as I see Mum’s face. I hadn’t actually gotten around to telling her about Jonathan yet.

  “Thank you, Elaine,” I say, rising to the occasion as I also raise my glass of punch. I’ve had quite a lot of this very alcoholic punch and am feeling quite brave, as well as enormously pissed off. “It’s very sweet of you to worry about me. So I ask you all to raise your glasses and wish Elaine peace, happiness, and a reconciliation with the father of her child—whoever he might be.”

  There is a sudden, embarrassed silence as people absorb the words that they have all been thinking yet have not dared to utter.

  “Friends,” Ned steps into the breach. “At least I feel that you’re my friends after the warm welcome you’ve all given to me this evening, so I hope you won’t feel I’m being too presumptuous by asking you to share in my joy. Flora has just made me the happiest man in the world by agreeing to marry me.”

  It is New Year’s Eve.

  I have a bottle of champagne, luxury Belgian chocolates, luxury caviar, strawberries and a selection of books written by such wonderful authors as J. K. Rowling and Stephen King.