by Sue Margolis
In the nicest possible way, I told him not to hold his breath.
Scarlett and Mum texted me to say congratulations on the Nasreen case. When I got home and checked my voice mail, there was a long hero-gram from Nana saying how proud she was of me. She also mentioned that Josh had sent her a check to cover the cost of the wedding. The sale of his flat had gone through sooner than expected. So he’d kept his promise. Much as it pained me to say it, I couldn’t help being impressed. Mention of Josh still made me feel uncomfortable, but I wasn’t about to let him spoil tonight. Kenny was picking me up and we were going out to celebrate my Nasreen victory with a posh dinner.
I was about to get changed when the door buzzer went. I looked at my watch. Kenny wasn’t early. I was running late.
Two minutes later he was standing in the doorway, handing me a bottle of Moët. “Thought we’d have a drink before we went out,” he said.
“Aw, Kenny, you shouldn’t have. It feels like every time you visit, you come bearing bubbly.” I planted a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
He followed me into the kitchen. I went in search of champagne flutes while he opened the bottle. “I’m still on such a high,” I said. “What a day it’s been.”
“And here’s to many, many more days like this one,” he said.
“I’ll drink to that.” We clinked glasses and went into the living room.
We were on our second glass of champagne when Kenny got up from the sofa. “I nearly forgot,” he said. He took a CD out of his jacket pocket, headed across the room and slipped it into the player.
A moment later, I burst out laughing. “Omigod … They’re playing our tune. Kenny, why have you got a CD of ‘I’ve Had the Time of My Life’?”
“Came free with this month’s Caterer magazine. I thought it might amuse you.”
He put his drink down on the coffee table. “Come on—dance with me. For old time’s sake.”
I put my glass down next to his. “OK, but I’m really not sure I want to remember that night.”
Kenny put his arm around me and we shuffled around the room. Eventually I put my head on his shoulder. “You know,” I said, “there’s one thing that would have made today perfect.”
“What’s that?”
“My dad being around. He would have gotten such a kick out of me winning this case.”
“He really loved you, didn’t he?”
“Yep. He really did. It’s at times like these when I really miss him.”
“You know that I love you, don’t you?”
“Of course. And I love you, too.”
“No,” Kenny said, “you don’t understand. I am in love with you.”
“What?” I took my head off his shoulder and looked at him.
“I started falling in love with you the first time we danced to this song.”
“No. This is all wrong. You can’t be in love with me.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re friends. We hang out. We’re not in love.”
“Come on. There’s more than friendship going on between us, and you know it.”
He was right. Who was I trying to kid?
“I mean, if I tried to kiss you now, would you ask me to stop?”
“I’m not sure.”
“I think you are.”
When he began stroking my hair, I didn’t protest. I didn’t say anything when he trailed his fingers over my face and along my jawline. Soon he was cupping my face in his hands, drawing me in. He was going to kiss me, and I wasn’t making the remotest attempt to push him away. A moment later, his lips were on mine. I felt them part. His tongue probed deep inside my mouth. By now we were locked in each other’s arms. Moments later I was unbuttoning his shirt. He was pulling off my top, unhooking my bra. I was unzipping his jeans. His hand was under my skirt, stroking the inside of my thigh. Now we were on the floor. His hand was heading further north. He kicked off his jeans. I pulled down on the elastic of his boxers. His erection sprang out. My mouth was on it, over it, my head moving rhythmically. His belly quivered and he let out a soft moan. A few moments later, he was leaning over me, pulling off my panties, sucking my nipples. There was no slow, playful teasing, me begging him to make me come. We were both frantic—desperate to satisfy this need that had been building for so long. I opened my legs. As he parted me I heard myself let out a long, soft sigh. I arched my back, pushing my pelvis towards him. I felt him spreading my moisture with his fingers. “Everything’s going to be OK,” he whispered, pushing his fingers inside me. Now his tongue was on my clitoris, tickling, probing, licking. I was gasping, digging my nails into the rug. “Come in me,” I whispered. His thrusts were strong and urgent. All the time he was kissing my mouth, my neck, my breasts. I felt the jolts of electricity building deep inside me. He shuddered and lay on top of me, very still. Both of us were trying to catch our breath.
“That was amazing,” Kenny said as his breath steadied. “But it shouldn’t have happened. You were high on adrenaline and champagne and I took advantage. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be daft. You didn’t take advantage of me. Did you hear me protesting? I wanted it as much as you did.” I straightened my skirt and reached onto the sofa for a couple of pillows. I handed one to Kenny.
“I guess it’s been building for ages,” he said, putting the pillow under his head.
“I know—like the time we nearly kissed at your place. The thing is …”
“What?”
I hesitated. This wasn’t easy to say. “I’m just not sure we’re right for each other.”
“What?”
“I mean it. You’re not my type.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
“Because what? Because I’m not some university-educated, high-achieving saint like Josh or this Hugh bloke you’ve got back with?”
“I’m not exactly back with Hugh. And anyway, your theory is way off the mark.”
“Really? I think the way you see it, I’m just a caterer. I, on the other hand, happen to believe that I have the potential to become a great chef. I have plans and ambitions, but still I’m not good enough for you.”
“God, I wish people would stop accusing me of being a snob. I am not a snob, OK?”
Kenny shrugged. “What are you, then?”
I felt myself take a deep breath. “It would never work—that’s all,” I said, turning my head away. “We’re too different.”
He took hold of my chin and turned me back to face him. “Why are you so stubborn? Why can’t you admit what’s going on between us? It’s almost like you’re not thinking for yourself.”
“Do I really come across as somebody who can’t think for herself?”
Of course, he was spot on. I wasn’t thinking for myself. I wasn’t listening to my own voice. I was still allowing myself to be dictated to by my dead father … but for the first time in my life, it was starting to feel wrong. Something was starting to change inside me. I felt troubled and uneasy.
“Why can’t you see how right for each other we are?” Kenny continued. “Even Nasreen thought we were a couple. We think alike. We love being around each other. We make each other laugh. I’ve never laughed with other women the way I laugh with you.” He stood up, picked his boxers up off the floor and pulled them on. Then he reached for his jeans. I didn’t say anything while he got dressed. I was too busy trying to sort out how I felt.
“Kenny, this whole ‘us’ thing has thrown me.” I reached for his hand and pulled him down towards me. “You’re right—I do have feelings for you. Powerful feelings, but I’ve been through so much these past few months. I’m still struggling. I’m not sure what to think. I need some time to get my head straight.”
“Plus Hugh is in the picture.”
“It’s complicated, Kenny. I really do need time.”
“Look, do you mind if we don’t go out?” he said. “I think it would be best if you sorted things out and gave me a c
all when you’re ready to talk.”
“OK.”
He said he needed to pee before he left and disappeared into the bathroom. While I was rearranging my clothes and picking up pillows, I noticed Kenny’s phone lying under the sofa. It must have fallen out of his pants pocket. I picked it up and accidently slid the SLIDE TO UNLOCK bar. An e-mail appeared on the screen. I was trying to work out how to turn the thing off—the last thing I wanted Kenny to think was that I’d been prying into his personal business—when I noticed the sender’s address. I checked again to make sure I hadn’t made a mistake. Suddenly my heart started pounding. The e-mail was from Josh.
Hey, Kenny, if you could send me your menu selection and price list, that would be great, and we’ll take it from there. I seem to remember that wine and spirits weren’t included, but if you could let me know.
All best, Josh
By now Kenny was back. “OK, bye, then. Speak whenever.”
“You forgot this,” I said, handing him his phone.
“Thanks. Must have dropped out of my pocket.”
“So how come you’ve been e-mailing with Josh?” I had no idea how I was remaining so calm.
“Josh?”
“Look at the screen. It just appeared. I didn’t go looking for it.”
Kenny turned veal white. “OK … as they say in the movies, I can explain.”
“Kenny, a minute ago you told me you were in love with me. Now I discover that you are doing business behind my back with the man who left me on my wedding day. How could you do something like that? What sort of a low-life are you?”
“Tally, listen to me. This isn’t how it looks.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, stop quoting comedy clichés and get out. It’s exactly how it looks.”
“I’m not leaving until you listen to me.” He stood in front of me, arms folded.
“OK, then I’ll leave.” I picked up my bag and my coat, put on my shoes. He tried to block my way, but I dodged past him.
“On second thought,” he said, “I think I will leave. I’m never going to be good enough for you. You’re not prepared to listen to anything I’ve got to say. You know what? I’ve had enough.”
We were suddenly engaged in a comedic struggle to get out of the door at the same time, but in the end I pulled back and let him go.
Chapter 16
The following evening, just as I was leaving work, Tracy on reception buzzed to say there was a delivery for me. I assumed it was some documents I’d been expecting. When I got to reception I noticed a magnificent bouquet of white lilies sitting on the desk.
“Gosh,” I said, “somebody’s got an admirer.”
“Yes, you,” Tracy said, giving what I can only describe as a saucy smile. She handed me the flowers. “There’s a note inside.” I’m sure she wanted me to open the note in front of her—in the hope that she might get the lowdown on my love life—but I simply thanked her and went back to my office.
Don’t ask me how he had done it, or how much it had cost, but somehow from the wilds of Africa, with a dodgy phone line and a hit-and-miss Internet connection, Hugh had managed to send me flowers to congratulate me on the Nasreen case. He’d written, Read about Nasreen victory on BBC Web site. Well done. So proud. Thinking of you and missing you. Love, Hugh. There were two kisses.
Twenty minutes later, my bouquet and I were sitting in a pub on Greek Street with Rosie and Scarlett. We’d arranged to have dinner at Mamma Mia over the road, but Grace had called to say that she was running late. We’d changed the time of the reservation and decided to wait for her in the pub.
“I have to admit, those flowers are gorgeous,” Rosie said. “Hugh must really think the world of you.”
“Yes, unlike a certain other person.”
“I can’t believe Kenny would do something like this,” Scarlett said. “I mean, are you sure that e-mail was from your Josh?”
“He isn’t my Josh, and anyway, I’m positive. Plus Kenny didn’t even try to deny it.”
Scarlett took a sip of wine. “OK, so what did he say?”
“Nothing. I didn’t give him the chance.”
“Why on earth not?” Rosie piped up. “You have to at least give him the chance to explain.”
“Why? He’s catering some kind of a do for Josh, which he hadn’t even told me about—not that telling me would have made much difference to my reaction. What else do I need to know?”
Rosie shrugged. “Nothing, I guess. Jeez. What a betrayal. But why would he do it? For the money? That really stinks.”
I said that I couldn’t think of any other reason.
“I can’t believe I got him so wrong,” Rosie said.
Scarlett nodded. “Me, neither.”
“OK,” I said. “Don’t take this the wrong way, and I say this with love, but now that we have established that the pair of you are not infallible, would you just butt out of my love life and leave me to sort out my own relationships?”
“Point taken,” Rosie said. “I apologize for interfering. And for calling you a snob. I can get on my high horse sometimes.”
“Apology accepted.” I turned to Scarlett. “You see, Dad was right.”
“About what?” she said.
“About men needing to meet certain requirements. If they don’t, they let you down.” After discovering what Kenny had done, the urge I’d felt last night to challenge my father’s voice had completely disappeared.
“Omigod. Please don’t tell me this is still about that conversation you had with Dad all those years ago in the car park.”
“What conversation?” Rosie said.
I explained.
“So why have you never told me about this?”
Scarlett didn’t give me a chance to answer. “I’ll tell you why,” she said. “Because at some level, my thirty-four-year-old sister doesn’t want people to know that when it comes to making decisions about relationships, she doesn’t follow her own instincts. Instead she follows the advice of our late father.”
“You’re suggesting I’m secretly ashamed that I follow Dad’s advice? That’s nonsense. How could I be ashamed when it makes such good sense? Look at him and Mum. They ended up unhappy because they turned into two very different people. Dad went out and got an education. Mum didn’t.”
“Do you really believe,” Scarlett said, “that people who share the same background and education never divorce? Look at Rosie and Dan.”
“She’s not wrong,” Rosie said.
“I think,” Scarlett continued, “that you’ve become obsessed with doing what you think Dad would have wanted. We all know how important it is for you to stay connected to him, but this is taking it way too far. Has it ever occurred to you that our father the genius might actually have been wrong about something?” She paused. “It’s time to let go.”
“But I was about to let go. I was about to let go with Kenny, and look where it got me.”
“Just because Kenny behaved like a shit doesn’t mean you shouldn’t change your thinking. Surely you can see that. You’ve always blamed Mum for never giving you the attention you needed as a child, and you still carry that resentment. I get that, and so does she, but has it occurred to you that this obsession you have with remaining connected to Dad isn’t helping you build bridges with her?”
I didn’t say anything. Part of me could hear the sense in what she was saying.
“So what now?” Rosie said. “Are you going to try and make a go of it with Hugh?”
“We’ve been in touch all the time he’s been away. We seem to be reconnecting. Surely we owe it to ourselves to find out if we have a future.”
“Brilliant. So it’s back to the old thinking,” Scarlett said.
I caught her and Rosie exchanging weary glances. It was clear that they both thought I was making a mistake. Scarlett suggested we let the subject drop. “I wonder where Grace has got to?” she said, looking at her watch.
Scarlett had just offered to buy another round of drinks wh
en Grace walked in. Her face was one huge grin. “Sorry I’m late, guys,” she said, sitting down at the table, “but I’ve been on the phone to Ed for over an hour.”
“I take it from the expression on your face,” Scarlett said, “that we have a date.”
“We thought next Saturday.”
“What’s happening next Saturday?” I said.
“Ed is going to come into a paper cup and then Scarlett is going to impregnate me.”
“Ah.”
“Well, you did ask.”
“God,” Scarlett said. “Can you believe it? We’re going to be a family.”
“Hold your horses. There is the small matter of me getting pregnant.”
“Oh, of course you’ll get pregnant,” Scarlett responded. “Your mother had five kids. Fecundity is in your genes.”
Scarlett ordered a bottle of champagne to celebrate, and Grace did show-and-tell with the self-insemination kit she’d just bought—complete with syringe, dinky sperm cup and something called preseed lube.
A month or so went by. Hugh was in Luanda now, preparing to come home. The phone and Internet were much better, and we were texting and e-mailing all the time. Much of what we talked about concerned the past—the things we’d done together, the places we’d been, the plans we’d made. I was aware that things were gradually becoming more intimate between us. There was no doubt in my mind that we were reconnecting.
I hadn’t heard anything from Kenny. I assumed he was feeling so guilty about what he’d done that he couldn’t face contacting me.
It was odd. Despite my feelings towards Kenny, it took time getting used to him not being around. Occasionally I’d be sitting on the sofa, reading through case notes, and I’d look up, expecting to see him in the armchair, his feet up on the coffee table, watching the soccer or reading the paper. Each time this happened, I got a lonely, empty feeling.
One amazing and totally unexpected thing that had happened was that Mum had a new man—Frank, the Samaritan. Even though Scarlett, Grace and I had been at Mum’s the night he came round to read her the riot act for impersonating a Samaritan, none of us had actual seen him. As yet, only Nana had met him. It turned out that there was nothing significant in this. Mum hadn’t “taken him home” to meet her mother. It turned out that Nana had popped round to Mum’s with one of her homemade honey cakes and Frank just happened to be there. “And all he had on was a pair of boxers,” Nana had said to me on the phone. “I didn’t know where to look.”