Initially my warm glow of newfound popularity lasts the whole way through afternoon tea and right up to when we all merrily and a bit drunkenly head up the massive stone staircase to our respective rooms, to get dressed for dinner. I’ve only had two and a bit glasses of champagne, but barely got to eat a single scrap, I was that busy chatting and laughing. The net result of which is that I’m now a bit tipsy and giddy, on a total high from how unbelievably well the whole shindig is going so far.
Ever the gentleman, Jake allocates me full bathroom rights first while I get changed and liberally apply yet more slap to my sunburnt face as we natter away through the half-open door.
‘You’re playing a complete blinder, you do know that,’ I shout out to him proudly, shoehorning myself out of my jeans and into a long, bugle-beaded, slinky, silver cocktail dress that Jake insisted on buying me the other night. I naturally baulked at this, as it was a Louise Kennedy that even on sale still cost a bleeding packet, but he insisted. Said it looked well on me and besides, it was payback for the suit I bought him, what seems like another lifetime ago now. I tentatively step into it, clinging to the towel rack with one hand for support, I’m that tipsy, then yank up the gossamer-fine straps, zip it up my back as far as I can by myself and step back to check it out in a full-length mirror conveniently placed by the bathtub.
Not half bad, I can’t help thinking, twirling this way and that, straining to get a better view. Now believe me, I’m no Cameron Diaz, but there’s just something sexy and magical about the way the dress clings and shimmers, even in awful bathroom flourescent light. If I don’t exactly look a million dollars, then for tonight at least, I certainly feel it.
The dark circles under my eyes, I notice, have slowly started to fade a bit from being out in the sun with Lily so much lately, and there’s a colour in my cheeks now that was never there before. Most likely down to the fact that Jake’s getting pretty good at ramming food down my throat, combined with the fact that I’m sleeping a lot more soundly these days. Normally I go around looking not unlike Morticia Addams I’m that white and pasty, but not now. There’s an unmistakable glow there that was absent before and there’s only one thing I can put it down to. It’s feeling like I’m not alone any more.
It’s not me contra mundum any more and it doesn’t need to be, ever again. Because I’ve got buddies now, real pals. Some of whom, to my shame, have been under my nose for the longest time, including practically everyone that I work with.
‘What about that Shania one, Lady Up-Your-Arse or whatever she calls herself though?’ Jake chats away through the bathroom door. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever come across anyone quite like her.’
‘Explain?’ I call back at him, while practically screwed up against the vanity mirror above the sink trying to lash on actual make-up. Harder than it sounds when you’re someone who rarely bothers with the stuff. No time, I always think, not to mention very little point. No sooner do I put it on than it’s sweated off me after approximately one hour of being even near the vicinity of the Post.
‘Well, it’s weird. While she’s talking away to you and seemingly interested in pursuing a half-normal conversation, the whole time she’s got her mobile out and is on Twitter. Non-stop.’
I roll my eyes to heaven.
‘Yeah, sounds right. Seen her do it a thousand times. She tweets like she’s running a director’s commentary on her own life. TMI syndrome I call it.’
‘Which is?’
‘Too Much Information. People who feel the need to tweet what they had for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Very annoying I’d imagine, if you happen to be following her.’
‘Bit of a fake, isn’t she?’
I smile to myself, while picking up wet towels and hanging them out to dry. Funny thing about Jake, he has the innate knack of being able to spot a phoney faster than Kim or Aggie can spot mildew.
‘And another thing, what’s the story with that guy Marc, your culture editor?’ Jake chats on companionably through the bathroom door. ‘Has to be gay, doesn’t he?’
‘Getting married at the end of the month,’ I shout back, lashing on more bronzing powder than you’d normally see on an X-Factor finalist, just to be on the safe side. ‘A civil partnership with a guy who works in advertising at the Post. And what’s more, not only did he tell me all about it this afternoon, but he actually invited me to the wedding too, I couldn’t believe it.’
‘Why wouldn’t he?’
‘Well, I’ve known him years and in all that time, I just automatically assumed he never really liked me. He and I do nothing only snipe at each other.’
‘Why wouldn’t he like you? Jeez, did you see yourself this afternoon? You were totally surrounded by people everywhere you went. And they didn’t seem to just be rubbernecking you or sucking up to you because you’re their boss, they genuinely seemed to be having a laugh with you.’
‘You think? Really?’
I mean, I think so too, but it’s great to be able to get a second opinion from someone who was there, observing from the sidelines.
‘Are you kidding me? You were like Miss Congeniality downstairs, they were buzzing round you like wasps round a jam jar. Everyone wanted to chat to you, myself included. Only trying to get away from your woman I was stuck with, was next to impossible. Jeez, she’s something else isn’t she? Shania – Lady Up-Your-Bum, I mean. Kinda reminded me of Cruella de Vil’s granny.’
‘Oh Jake,’ I say guiltily, ‘I’m so sorry for not rescuing you … I was just so busy chatting, I kept on trying to get to you, but then someone always seemed to waylay me.’
‘No worries at all,’ he says kindly. ‘It was great to see you having such a good time.’
‘Well, thank you. I only hope you weren’t bored stupid.’
‘Not a bit of it. Have to say though Eloise,’ he chats on easily, ‘the whole shindig was a helluva lot better than you’d let me to expect. From what you’d told me, I was dreading the whole thing, kept thinking that I’d been in correctional facilities that sounded more relaxed. But I have to say it was – well, I haven’t seen you look as alive as you did down there, not once, in all the time I’ve known you. It was great to see, it really was.’
I stop in my tracks, deeply touched at this. What a total sweetheart, I find myself thinking, pausing for a second and pulling back from the mirror, where I’d been trying to put on eyeliner straight. Not many guys who’d have the patience to put up with a work do like this. Not any, as far as I know.
A random thought; should I go ahead and tell him right now? I’m certainly drunk enough and it sort of feels like the right time … But I swat it aside. Not before the big dinner tonight. Stick with the plan, Eloise. Tomorrow. After breakfast. Outside, in the gardens, where there’s no distractions. Just be patient, wait till then. You’re about to tell him potentially life-altering news, so it’s worth picking the right moment, isn’t it? Besides, I’ve already waited this long and we’re having such a lovely time …
Then I step out of the bathroom in all my silvery finery, to an appreciative wolf-whistle from Jake, which I immediately swat away, red-faced. He’s lying up against a mound of pillows on the bed now, shoes kicked off, stretched out like a sunbather, the picture of chilled-out relaxation.
Looking decidedly sexy too, I find myself thinking, right out of left field.
Jeez, where’d that come from?
Oh who am I kidding, I’ve been thinking it all afternoon. Just like every other straight, single woman at this do.
Still though, note to self; no more booze, strictly water for me from here on in.
Must be a hell of a lot drunker than I thought.
‘You look gorgeous,’ he says softly, eyeing me up and down in a way that I haven’t been looked at in years. Decades, even.
‘Come off it,’ I giggle back at him, I’m sure blushing hotly. ‘It’s not me, it’s the dress. Besides, you’re used to seeing me going around in my black widow’s weeds.’
‘No, you look really terrific,�
� he repeats slowly, stretching his arms behind his head and looking at me so admiringly that now it’s starting to disconcert me a bit. I’m not used to it. Men either see me as asexual or else just treat me exactly as they would another guy.
‘Have to hand it to you,’ Jake goes on lazily, ‘I never realised you’d such a great body going on under all those identical black power suits.’
‘Jake?!’
‘Look at yourself, would you? You’ve a fantastic figure. It’s just that no one ever tells you. I’ve always thought that you don’t get complimented enough, all you ever seem to get is bucketloads of shite thrown all over you. So take it from me, tonight you’re any man’s fantasy come true, just a pity that the only person who can’t see it is you. And to me, you’re the sexiest, loveliest, most gorgeous woman here.’
I’m flushing right to the back of my molars now and suddenly after all of our messing and chat and banter, there’s an awkward silence, where we both look at each other, sensing that our friendship is about to cross a major line here.
But onto what?
There’s a silence now, all our easy chitchat has suddenly stopped. And now it’s like even the air in the room isn’t moving.
‘Your dress is unzipped,’ he eventually murmurs, pointing to the back of it.
‘Oh rats, yeah, I couldn’t reach,’ I mumble, staring at him stupidly.
‘Come here. Allow me.’
‘Oh, emmm, thanks.’
I go over to where he’s sitting up against the pillows and sit down gingerly on the edge of the bed, with my back to him. Next thing, I feel his warm hands lightly lifting my hair off the back of my neck as he zips the dress all the way up. For just a millisecond longer than necessary, his hands linger on my bare shoulders and now there’s a tingling thrill shooting down my arms, bringing my whole body out in goose pimples.
Hadn’t counted on this … Hadn’t even considered the deep, swell that starts inside my chest then slowly starts to spread over my whole body, until my fingers tingle, and each and every one of my nerve endings feels like it’s physically starting to ache.
Christ, I think randomly, have I really been withering for the want of a human touch this badly? And for this long?
His giant hands linger on the nape of my neck, then gently start to play with a loose strand of my hair as my stomach contracts with longing … Whatever else happens, I don’t want him to stop …
Okay, I’m starting to feel dizzy now, loose and watery and find my head slowly turning round to face him as he cups my face in his huge hand, massaging it with his long, slow fingers.
‘This alright?’ he whispers so softly, I can barely hear him.
The rational part of my mind says, stop this lunacy right now, get up while I still can, say something smart and get back downstairs to the party proper. Because the thing is, I like being Jake’s friend. Surely the superior and permanent position of friends is a pretty good place to be. Isn’t it? Not to mention the bombshell I’ll be landing on him tomorrow … So why am I in danger of blowing everything right now by turning back to him, mumbling ‘Mmmmm,’ softly under my breath, wanting nothing more now than for him to hold me, to lie down beside him, to feel his lips on mine … He must be able to hear my heart hammering, I think, he must …
‘You’re amazing, you know that?’ he murmurs into my hair, and now I can feel his tongue lightly grazing off my ear. Oh God, he smells so delicious too, musky and gorgeous. And suddenly it’s like a furnace in here and even just looking at him is making me break out in a clammy sweat.
‘Most incredible person I think I’ve ever met.’
Another flush from me and now he’s smiling down at me.
‘I love watching you blush. It’s so against your nature and you’re so pretty when you do.’
I inch back a tiny bit, to look him full in the face.
‘Jake …’
‘Mmmmm …’ he says, pulling me back towards him, his grip like iron now.
‘What are we doing here? Are we both sure about this?’
‘Never been surer of anything in my life.’
‘But what about your woman? The Girl from Ipanema, sorry, I mean, what’s her name, Monique?’
‘Nothing.’ He just smiles that wry crooked smile I love and looks at me the way he always does whenever he thinks I’m acting like a complete mental case. ‘No story whatsoever. We’re friends, that’s all. Went to a movie together once and that was it. I already told you that.’
‘Yeah, but, I just wondered …’
‘Come on love,’ he smiles, lazily tracing a line of light kisses along the path of my collarbone, ‘the only reason I even mentioned her was because you seemed so edgy with me when we were out to dinner last week. I honestly thought you were about to tell me you were married or in a long-term relationship or something. So I just thought it might put your mind at rest a bit, take some pressure off you if I told you about Monique, that’s all. If you’ll remember though, I did make it clear to you we were only going out as friends …’
Now. This is it. The perfect moment.
‘Jake … there was something I wanted to tell you that night, but I never got a chance …’
‘Shhh, can’t you see I’m trying to kiss you here?’
With that, he grabs me by the waist and pulls me towards him so that now we’re face to face, inches from each other and all I can do is forget what I was about to say and look deep into his beautiful, wide blue eyes, just wishing he’d lean down and kiss me properly … And when he eventually does, it’s an endless kiss, strong and deep and so, so sexy and I can’t help myself from moaning softly as he strokes down the whole length of my body … it’s hot and getting hotter and I don’t want him to stop, don’t want this moment to be over, want nothing more then to commit this to memory, so I can relive it later …
It takes every gram of strength I have to pull away, but somehow I manage to.
‘No, please Jake, not until I’ve talked to you …’
‘What’s up love?’
Next thing, the bedroom phone rings.
And now I’m startled, almost shocked back to sobriety.
‘Let it ring and tell me what’s bothering you,’ he says thickly, arms clamped tight around me.
But I can’t, in case it’s Helen or Lily or some problem at home. I detangle myself, slide away from him towards the bedside table and pick it up.
‘Hello?’
‘Eloise, where in the name of god are you?’
Ruth O’Connell, sounding even tipsier than I feel right now.
‘Hi Ruth, you OK?’
‘Come on, the party’s started and you’re late! We’re all down here waiting for you, so hurry up! And get that gorgeous slab of a man of yours down here too! Steve from accounts is making serious moves on me again and I need to talk boys with you!’
I smile, hang up, then turn back to Jake.
‘Party’s started,’ I tell him. ‘Time for us to go.’
Can’t tell him now. But for the first time all week, I think maybe, just maybe, everything will be fine when I do.
‘Party hasn’t even begun to start,’ he grins broadly. ‘You just wait till I get you back up here later on. Now that’ll be the real party.’
Five minutes later and arm in arm together we both trip down the massive stone staircase into the large, looming and slightly terrifying library, where aperitifs are being served before dinner. Jake holds open the door for me, winks at me, then brushes his hand lightly up and down my bare back as I waft past him. And it’s thrilling and sexy all at once and as I smile coyly up at him all I can think is – later.
Just wait until later. That’s all we have to do. In a few hours, all this work malarkey will be done and dusted and then it’ll just me and him … alone. And I’ll come clean to him and with luck we’ll just pick up exactly where we left off on that gorgeous, conveniently oversized big double bed …
Jesus, I’m acting and feeling like a teenager, I think, totally as
saulted by a mixture of relief and happiness as a dizziness comes over me just at the memory of him touching me. Nor does Jake show any signs of regretting what just happened either. Every chance he gets, he’s brushing up against me, slipping an arm round my shoulders, making it clear to one and all that we’re together. Which they all automatically assumed anyway, but still.
And each time he lightly grazes my bare back, it sends a thrill through me that I have neither felt nor experienced in such a mortifyingly long time – I’m guessing sometime during the Clinton administration. And it’s all just so sexy and so beyond fabulous; like that feeling you get when you hear the opening bars of Avalon, only better.
Anyway, Jake heads to the crowded bar to get us some drinks while I slip into a quiet corner to call home and say nightie-night to Lily. I mwah-mwah her over and over again while she giggles, sing her two verses of The Bing Bong Song from Peppa Pig at her insistence and faithfully promise her I’ll be home in time to make popcorn and watch a movie of her choice with her on TV, tomorrow evening. Then have to resist the urge to physically kiss the phone as she happily waddles off and Helen takes over.
‘So, can you talk?’ she asks me excitedly, dying to know all. ‘How’s it all going?’
‘So, so well,’ I hiss. ‘LOADS to tell you, but just relax. I really think that somehow it’s all going to work out, that he won’t mind a bit when I tell him. Look, I can’t talk now, but for once in my life I really, honestly feel that everything will be just fine …’
With that, I spot Jake on his way back with drinks.
‘Gotta go, talk later!’ I tell her, hanging up.
Later, later, later. And all Jake and I have to do is wait till later.
To be continued …
Anyway, the pre-dinner drinks party is packed to the gills, with everyone deep in chat and of course knocking back the freebie champagne and cocktails to beat the band. The vast majority from the Post, I can’t help noticing, all executing perfect one hundred and eighty-degree head turns, so as to check that there’s never anyone close by more important that they should be rubbernecking with instead.
A Very Accidental Love Story Page 24