‘Oh,’ I say, unguardedly. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I thought I’d surprise you. Was that not a good idea?’ He stands up. I’d forgotten how tall he is. And how sexy. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch this weekend. My phone died, and I forgot to bring my charger. And the others all have smartphones, so none of their chargers worked for me …’
I have every intention of saying calmly, as I’d planned, ‘That’s fine, but I was annoyed at the time.’
But I’m tired and hung-over, and coming down from the weekend, and instead what comes out is, ‘I thought you were ignoring me.’ I have a catch in my voice that soon turns into real tears. ‘And it was Valentine’s Day!’ And now I’m sobbing for the whole street to see, and totally mortified. I must look like the most pathetic drama queen in West Hampstead.
‘Oh my God! Rachel!’ He drops the flowers and pulls me into his arms. I breathe and gulp, inhaling his familiar scent and feeling the wool of his coat against my cheek. ‘I thought you didn’t care about it! We said we wouldn’t do anything.’
‘No! We said we would do something low-key. And I know you had to work, but it still sucked that you changed your mind about it.’ I’m still gulping and sniffing in a very undignified way. I scrabble in my pocket for a tissue, and find one from the café in Rome.
‘Honey,’ he says, leaning back and looking at me. He’s never called me that, or anything like it, before. The tenderness in his eyes almost makes me start crying again. ‘I did do something low-key. I sent you a card. But then I missed you, so I came back from Bristol early. I would have gone to the airport to meet you, but I couldn’t remember which one you were coming through.’
‘But that’s crazy! You could have been waiting hours.’ I start laughing, but it turns into sobs again. Oliver hugs me, and then kisses me through my tears.
‘Come on. Inside,’ he says. He hands me the flowers, picks up my suitcase, and holds the door open for me once I’ve unlocked it. He stops at my pigeonhole and takes out a card, and hands it to me as well. He’s not afraid to boss me around sometimes. And once in a while, when you’ve been making decisions all day, that’s what you need.
‘How was Rome, anyway?’ he asks, as we toil up the four flights of steps.
‘It was fine,’ I say, but I’m still feeling irrational and sulky, and I can’t help adding, ‘How was lovely Laura?’
‘Who? She’s fine! Rachel, what are you …’
I say nothing as we go inside my flat.
‘Look, I’m sorry I had to go to Bristol,’ he says. ‘I really am. But I thought you didn’t mind. We agreed to do something low-key for Valentine’s Day – like sending a card.’
‘Well I thought we agreed to do something low-key together,’ I say, dully. I’m sick of the whole subject of effing Valentine’s Day now; I never want to hear it mentioned again.
Oliver is still staring at me. I can practically hear the wheels clicking.
‘I didn’t think you cared so much … about Valentine’s Day,’ he says.
‘I don’t give a shit about it! I only care about you,’ I say, blowing my nose again.
‘Do you?’ he says, a smile breaking out over his face. I nod.
‘Well, I love you. What do you think of that?’ he says.
I’m laughing and crying now. ‘I like it. I mean, I love you too.’
He kisses me again, and we look at each other, grinning like idiots at what’s just happened. And in that moment I realise that I could tell him absolutely anything. I could even tell him about meeting Jay, though I can’t be bothered yet because Jay is so boring. And I know that it’s all going to be OK.
Oliver sits down in my armchair and pulls me on to his lap.
‘Tell me about your weekend,’ he says, stroking my hair. ‘What did you do?’
‘Well, we didn’t do much sightseeing. But we had a lot of fun. It was gorgeous weather, T-shirt weather. I bought some clothes. We met these crazy Americans, and I kept forgetting my guidebook …’ I want to tell him everything, and I will, but there’s something I want to ask him first. ‘Oliver. How would you feel about going to Bali with me sometime? Or somewhere like that?’
‘Sure.’
‘Really?’
He nods. ‘Of course. I’d go anywhere with you,’ he says, matter-of-factly. ‘Except Bicester Shopping Village. One of my worst childhood memories is of my mum dragging me around Bicester Shopping Village. Never again.’
I kiss him again, bubbling over inside with happiness. It’s not even that I care about stupid Bali, it’s the principle of the thing. Although the one attraction is that at least we wouldn’t run into Jay there.
Before we get completely carried away, I remember about the flowers. He stands behind me as I fill a jug at the sink, grabbing my waist and kissing the nape of my neck. I dodge him, laughing, and put the flowers in water.
‘D’you like them?’ he asks doubtfully. ‘There wasn’t much left at Paddington station. I wasn’t sure what to get.’
‘Yes!’ This isn’t a fib. They’re the most hideous flowers I’ve ever seen, and I love them. I turn around and kiss Oliver again, thinking that February might turn out to be my favourite month after all.
7 March
From: Lily
To: Maggie
Well, I did it. I picked him up from the airport, and waited till we’d got back to my place and were walking on the beach – near where I first saw him, in fact. He’s just left; he’s going to stay with Sam and Alice tonight and fly back tomorrow. I phoned Alice when he was on his way over and she’s going to make herself scarce and come and hang out with me. I hope it won’t be too awkward with Sam’s family. We should really be on a documentary: When Cousins Break Up.
It felt really shitty to make him come all this way, but I couldn’t get to Boulder for the next two weekends because of work stuff, and I couldn’t do it over Skype. He was sort of fine about it – said he wasn’t surprised and he’d been thinking himself that we were at ‘different life stages’. But Maggie, he looked so sad. And I’m so sad too. I know it’s horrible to be dumped, but it’s horrible to break up with someone too. It was fine with Calvin – he barely noticed when I broke up with him. But Jesse …
I just hope he’ll meet someone else who really loves him the way he deserves. Actually, you know we were meant to be going to see Calexico together? I was going to pay him for the ticket in case he couldn’t find anyone to go, but he said he might go with Maudie, that teacher friend of his. She likes Calexico. (Not as much as she likes Jesse, if you ask me, but that’s another story.)
How are you? How was your date with the special needs David Bowie? (I mean the teacher with different-coloured eyes.). Have you joined Tinder yet?
Love Lily xx
PS You know one person who will be happy that Jesse and I broke up – aside from Maudie, that is? His mum, Diane. She is probably cracking open the champagne as we speak. And she doesn’t even drink.
PPS Can you give me Rachel’s email address? She sent me a really nice message on Facebook, but I hate writing in that tiny blue box.
8 March
From: Maggie
To: Lily
Hi Lil,
That does sound really sad, I’m sorry. But if you’re sure, then it’s best to do it and let him move on. And at least you were honest with him and didn’t just start being flaky and cancelling weekends.
Flakiness seems to be the number one disease affecting young London professionals right now. I’ve been Tindering a couple of interesting guys. The standard is much higher than on the internet, I think, but it’s equally bad for mixed messages and lack of follow-through. Last week I met Bruno – half-Portuguese, gorgeous, imports wines (!). We had the most fabulous evening in Fernandez and Wells. I learned quite a lot about wine too. Do you remember that amazing rosé we had in Delphi, when we were backpacking in Greece? And then we got a bottle to take home and it was like drinking pink apple juice? Well, Bruno said that’s bec
ause wine is all about the moment. Isn’t that interesting?
In any case, he was super keen, telling me all about how we’ll have to meet up again and how we must go to this Filipino restaurant in Peckham, etc. – and I haven’t heard from him since. Zip, zero. So either he met the love of his life on his way home on the Tube, or else he is FLA Positive (Flaky).
There have been a couple of other guys like that recently – all texts and no trousers. I felt so invincible right after I broke up with Leo, and in Rome, but now I think my run of luck is coming to an end. Or maybe it’s something I’m doing wrong. That special needs teacher guy was fine, but there was no spark, and every time I made a joke he said ‘Hilarious!’ But maybe I’m being too fussy and I should see him again. What do you think?
Mxx
PS Sorry for all the moaning when you’re having an actual break-up, but I know you won’t mind.
15 March
From: Lily
To: Maggie
Hi Mags,
I wouldn’t worry about it. You know, maybe Bruno is all about the moment too. He was great when you were sitting on a terrace overlooking the Sea of Olives, but if you took him home in your backpack, he’d be like pink apple juice. And no, I don’t think you should meet Hilarious again. His princess is in another castle.
Sorry for the late reply; work has been busy and stressy this week. We lost one of our big clients, an ‘imports-exports’ guy (probably drugs, who knows) with six kids who throws them all the most OTT parties. He’s cancelled the Under The Sea-themed birthday party for his youngest’s Big Six. In a way it’s good, as she wanted real mermaids and the insurance was going to be a nightmare. Still, it’s worrying – poor Gretchen hasn’t looked this ill since she did that Goop detox in January.
This is just a quick one as I’m going over for dinner at Sam and Alice’s. I thought Sam would be cross with me, but he’s actually being really nice about it all. I think Alice had a word with him.
Lots of love,
Lily xx
15 March
From: Poppy
To: Lily
Hi Lily,
Got your mail yesterday – I’m so sorry to hear about Jesse. But I’m sure it was the right decision. Sometimes it’s not enough that you’re both nice people. I remember you saying when you were over in February that he had his little nest, or flat, that he’d built and now he wanted to move you into it, and move on with the next stage of life.
And that’s perfect for him, but not for you. Now is your time to have flings with unsuitable men and lose your flip-flops in Mexico. In fact, you’ve just done a massive public service – you’ve released an eligible man back into the wild, with his taxi light firmly on (mixing my metaphors here but you know what I mean). The women of America will thank you.
How is work and everything? And when are you coming back again? We miss you!
Pxx
27 March
To: Maggie, Rachel, Poppy
From: Lily
Subject: POWER RANGERS ASSEMBLE!!
Hi girls,
Hope you’re all well. Guess what? I’ve been offered a free stay at the Mercer Hotel in New York for me and three friends for three nights!!! I’m good pals with the concierge there, and he’s giving me a freebie. I have to go to New York for a VIP event on Saturday 19 April – it’s very exclusive and hush-hush BUT I can get you all in. And we can all stay at the Mercer from the 18th to the 21st.
PLEASE COME!!!!!!!
I know it’s very short notice, but there are some reasonable flights for that weekend … and you will stay for free! Plus, I am really nervous about this event and I’d love to have you there for moral support. And I miss home and I need to see some friends! I’ll do whatever it takes to get you all over here! Please come, let me know asap!
Lily xxx
From: Maggie
To: Lily, Rachel, Poppy
Subject: RE: POWER RANGERS ASSEMBLE!!
I’m in.
From: Poppy
To: Rachel, Lily, Maggie
Subject: RE: POWER RANGERS ASSEMBLE!!
What the hell – me too! Rachel?
From: Lily
To: Rachel
Subject: RE: POWER RANGERS ASSEMBLE!!
Yes – Rachel? I hope you’re up for it. Otherwise we won’t be afraid to use peer pressure. Or do passive-aggressive reply-alls saying ‘Oh. That’s a pity’ if you say you can’t come.
OBVIOUSLY I’m just joking. But it would be really great if you could make it. Let me know!
Lxx
RACHEL
London is the greatest city in the world.
I mean, no disrespect to Rome. Or Méribel. Or indeed Celbridge, County Kildare. But London takes my breath away. Especially on a night like this – standing in the viewing gallery of the Paramount bar at Centre Point, looking down at all the lights beginning to twinkle in the spring dusk, from east to west, as far as the eye can see.
‘Pretty good, huh?’ I say to Oliver, who’s right beside me. We’re both leaning forward on the floor-length window, our heads almost touching, arms and foreheads pressed against the glass. We’ve got the whole city at our feet, and neither of us is scared of heights.
‘Gorgeous,’ he says. ‘Stunning.’
I turn to him, smiling. He looks so handsome, with his dark hair all ruffled, eyes crinkled up in a grin.
‘And the view’s not bad either,’ he adds.
I groan, punching him on the elbow, but he grabs my hand and it turns into a kiss. We’re away from the main bar, in one of the hidden viewing nooks, so I don’t mind. We’ve come here to celebrate our three-monthiversary – a concept that would have made me puke before I met Oliver. We might be celebrating it two weeks late, and semi-ironically, but we’re still celebrating it.
We walk back to our seats, and Oliver picks up the drinks menu. ‘This looks good. But do I have the nerve to order one?’
‘What – a Twinkleberry Fizz? Sure. Why not,’ I say, laughing. ‘Make it two.’
Sighing happily, I watch him lean on the bar, looking very smart in his new cords, red-and-cream check shirt and boat shoes. Oliver, who coped fine as a volunteer medic in Nairobi, where electricity came and went and the public toilets were controlled by rival gangs, gets stressed out by department stores. So I’ve introduced him to the magic of online shopping. He somehow didn’t believe that the things would really come or that anything would fit, but they did. We did a big blitz over Chinese takeaway, and got him everything he needs from shirts to underwear. Now he’s delighted with himself and I’m delighted that he no longer has to wear jumpers, or shoes, with holes in them.
Of course, these decrepit items haven’t been thrown out, which was going to be my next suggestion. Like aged family retainers, they’re living out a peaceful retirement in a corner of his wardrobe. But that’s OK. Baby steps. I’ve realised that there’s nothing wrong with Oliver being, as Lily put it in a recent email, a ‘fixer-upper’ – which is what Americans call a dilapidated old house that you lovingly repaint and restore. Especially since it turns out he’s more than willing to come to the occasional fancy bar with me.
As I sip the remains of my Prosecco, I marvel at what’s happened to me. I’m playing personal shopper to my boyfriend and celebrating monthiversaries and talking about how ‘we’ saw the new Batman film or went to a farmers’ market on the weekend. We’ve turned into one of those couples; the ones that used to make me sick. And I’ve never been happier.
Oliver’s still waiting for his drinks, so out of habit I check my BlackBerry. Three work messages I probably didn’t need to be cc’d on … and a message from Lily. Through a forest of exclamation marks I make out the subject line: POWER RANGERS ASSEMBLE!!
What does that mean? Confused, I scroll down and read the email chain, starting with Lily’s message about not being afraid to peer-pressure me and then catching up with her New York scheme.
‘Something interesting?’ Oliver asks, setting down our drinks.
I smile and put my BlackBerry away. ‘Red alert from Lily – she wants us all to come over for a weekend in New York in April. She’s got a freebie with some hotel. It sounds great. Her email’s very high-octane. Very Lily.’
‘That reminds me,’ Oliver says. ‘News from New York. Guess who’s just got engaged?’
‘Brad and Angelina?’ Oliver looks blank. ‘Never mind. Who?’
‘David and Nina.’
I blink at him. ‘David and Nina who we went skiing with? David who used to go out with Zoë?’
He nods, his smile fading; he must have forgotten temporarily about David dating (and dumping) my friend Zoë.
‘But they’ve only been going out for five minutes!’
‘Six months,’ Oliver says. ‘It is quite soon, I suppose. But there it is. He rang me the other day to tell me the big news. Sounded very happy.’
Gosh. Zoë’s ego might be a little bruised but she will survive – she’s madly in love with her boyfriend Max. And now that I’ve adjusted to the shock, I’m happy for David too. And for the mysterious Nina, a girl of few words but many charms, it would seem. But there’s one obvious question.
‘What is Jenny going to do?’ I ask, lowering my voice. ‘Has he told her yet? He can’t have. We would have heard the explosion.’
‘I think that may have been part of David’s thinking. He wants to make things very clear.’
I frown. ‘You mean he got engaged to Nina to get rid of Jenny? That’s extreme.’
‘No! He’s head over heels in love with Nina. But he might have had an added incentive to make things official with her. And Jenny will just have to cope.’
She will indeed. If a transatlantic move and an engagement aren’t clear enough, I don’t know what is.
‘But you know what?’ Oliver continues. ‘I bet that now David’s off the market, she’ll actually get a boyfriend of her own.’
‘You’re probably right.’ Thinking of Zoë, I add, ‘What is it about David that makes these girls go so nuts for him? I don’t see it myself.’
Girls on Tour Page 30