A Girl Like You (17 page)

‘It was,’ he says, chewing. ‘But I started thinking about what you said. About making her feel better. And I started feeling, I don’t know, guilty . . .’

‘Wow. You’re evolving,’ I say. ‘We should take a photo to commemorate this, or engrave a plaque, or something.’

He shakes his head. ‘I knew I shouldn’t have told you. Anyway, she’s fine. She said she tends to cry after a few drinks and that she wasn’t helplessly in love with me, contrary to what you assumed.’

‘Oh, well. That’s nice,’ I say.

‘She did, however, say Dave—’

I put my hand up to stop him. ‘It was a one-off, right? Apart from that, I don’t want to know. Anyway, it’s no wonder he didn’t pay any attention to me at that party when I avoided him all night, thanks to you.’ I decide to change the subject. ‘I’m looking forward to seeing Vix.’

‘That’s Sophie’s best friend, right?’ says Robert.

‘Yep,’ I say. ‘She’s hilarious. I’ve known her since she was eight. She and Sophie were best friends through the three key phases of girlhood: ballet, friendship bands, and Pacey from
Dawson’s Creek
.’

Robert puts his sunglasses on and smirks at this. I knew he wasn’t really in a bad mood.

Over the last two weeks, in addition to my internet stalking-I-mean-research, I’ve grilled Robert on Dave’s interests (skiing, surfing, sailing), favourite drink (red wine), film (‘Are you serious? I don’t fucking know, Abby’), where he lives (Camden), where he works (an American bank) and his taste in women (‘drunk, usually’). I wrote everything down in my notebook, but backwards and in French so no one would know. (I should have worked on the Enigma project, honestly.) He really does seem perfect.

I take a moment to check my notebook singledom list, as I have many times over the past three months.

Be cool

Be detached

Act brutal

Stay in control

Bulletproof

Always leave them before they leave you

I wonder if I’ll find him as knicker-droppingly gorgeous as I did last time. The memory of meeting his eyes across the empty tequila shot glasses makes me squirm with excitement (and a tiny bit of revulsion – tequila, ew).

I’ll be far more in control this time, of course. I shall be myself (in a calm-cool-collected kind of way), and he shall find me irresistible, and we’ll flirt and kiss and then I will take him as my lov-ah. Right?

God, it feels nice to relax. I’ve had a hectic week. I was at a client dinner on Thursday that didn’t finish till almost midnight, then was in the office for 6.15 am for a trader announcement on Friday. Suzanne almost smiled at me towards the end of the client dinner. That’s got to be a good sign, right?

‘Why are you thinking about work on a weekend?’ says Robert, coming back outside with two more coffees.

‘Fucking well stop that,’ I say. ‘Your telepathy freaks me out.’

He grins. ‘Want to talk about it?’

‘No,’ I say, chewing my lip. ‘I mean, it’s fine. I’m working as hard as I can. I’m doing everything just like I’m supposed to.’

‘Do you mind if I ask why?’

I gaze at him for a second. What does he mean, why?

‘It’s a job. That’s what you do. You do your best. I can’t just quit and navel-gaze till I find something better.’ I sound a little harsher than I mean to, but his needling questions are clearly intended to make me question my place in the world. ‘Work is just work.’

My phone beeps. It’s a text from Plum.

Dan invented a new swearword. Fuckwart. Isn’t he talented?

I show Robert and we both start laughing. ‘God, she makes me laugh,’ I say. ‘And she’s so fucking happy. I love it.’ Dan is utterly enchanted by Plum, who seems to have become an uber-version of herself in the past two weeks: happier and more calmly confident.

‘How’s the H-Bomb?’

This is the nickname that Henry made up for himself last weekend, and insisted that everyone – especially Robert – call him that.

‘Yep, he’s a smitten kitten with Charlotte,’ I say. ‘I think your advice helped; he really was the worst single man in England . . .’ I pause for a second. ‘Hang on. Are you telling me that I’m the only single one left?’

Robert leans back in his chair, sunglasses on, hands folded behind his head. ‘You tell me.’

‘I cannot fucking believe this,’ I say in shock. ‘For seven years, Henry and Plum and even my sister have been almost constantly single whilst I was in a relationshit. Now I’m finally able to have some fun and they all fuck off and desert me.’

‘Relationshit? Nice.’

A frantically beeping horn makes us turn to see a Hertz rental car squealing to a halt in the centre of the square. The driver beeps a few more times for good measure and jumps out.

It’s Dave.

My entire body does a back flip inside my skin, and my breezy plan to take him as my lov-ah collapses. This is like, the worst nerves in the world. Times a thousand. How the hell am I meant to handle this? I’m all hot. And sweating slightly. Are my sunglasses on? Yes. Good. Fine. Breathe. Smile serenely. Chin up. Stomach in.

‘
Bonjour
,
mes amis
,’ says Dave, coming over to kiss me – oh hot flush! – hello, and then leaning in to give Robert a loud smacking kiss on both cheeks too. ‘Robair,’ he says, pronouncing it as though he was French. ‘Don’t be shy,
mon petit fleur
.’ Robert pushes him away and starts laughing. Dave, with a satisfied smile on his face – oh perfect teeth, beautiful smile – stands up and looks back to the car.

I’m dazed by my body’s pathetically hormonal reaction to Dave, and fight the urge to give myself a good slap. Then I take an extra moment to check him out behind my sunglasses. Not super-tall but very fit and good God, he really is gorgeous. I wonder if he has those little muscle-lines above his hip bones. I’ve never seen them in real life. (I am so deprived.)

‘Come on, team, we haven’t got all day . . .’ he calls.

Vix and JimmyJames, and the two people who I surmise must be Bella and Ollie are slowly getting out of the car.

‘I tell you, if it wasn’t for my cheerful disposition, riding in the car with this lot would have killed me,’ says Dave, putting a piece of chewing gum in his mouth. ‘Fucking hell! I’ve met brick walls with more banter.’

Vix and JimmyJames are both wearing dark glasses and clearly suffering from very bad hangovers. Bella, despite her unhappy pout, is extremely pretty, with very long hair, the same flaxen blonde as Luke. Ollie has sandy hair and an open, freckled face, and looks like he’d probably be great fun, if it wasn’t for the fact that he looks ready to punch someone.

Hmm.

Vix and JimmyJames are speechless with relief to be out of the car, and Bella and Ollie take their tight little smiles and sit at opposite ends of the table. I’m unable to speak because the penny has just dropped that I fancy Dave about a thousand times more than I thought I did, and Robert has gone inside to order coffees for everyone.

Only Dave seems unperturbed, sitting back and swinging his feet up on the table.

‘Pretty town. Ugly locals. Typical France. Is there a bar scene here?’

‘This is it,’ I say finally, after several seconds, when it’s quite clear that no one else is going to speak. ‘Um, shall I walk down and wake the happy couple?’

‘No, no, you stay here, angel. I’ll take care of it,’ says Dave, standing up and taking out his phone from his jeans pocket. He puts aviators on at the same time, and gazes across the square waiting for Luke to answer. Oh. The chiselled jaw line.

‘Luke. What’s your poison?’ Dave pauses. ‘Well, we’re in the bar now, what’s the point in coming all the way back there? . . . OK, see you in five.’ He hangs up. ‘He’s coming.’

‘With Sophie?’ says Bella. Dave nods. ‘Then why not say “they”? Women count, Dave. We even have the vote now.’

‘I know! It’s so exciting. Well done, you,’ says Dave, smiling his blindingly perfect smile as he walks away from the table to make a phone call. I giggle, and Bella coolly lights a cigarette and starts texting someone. My giggle trickles off into a gurgle, and finally stops. I am an idiot.

I turn to Vix and JimmyJames, the hangover twins, and finally find my tongue. ‘Look at you reprobates. Honestly.’

‘I seem to have developed an allergy to alcohol. Whenever I drink it, I black out.’ JimmyJames coughs for several seconds, pauses, swallows, and looks up at me. His shirt is done up wrong, I notice, which doesn’t sit well at all on his short, stocky physique. ‘Right. Snack time. How do you say croissant in French?’ He wanders across the courtyard, looking like an unmade bed. The French housewives won’t know what to make of him, I think.

‘I had a fight with a bottle of gin last night,’ says Vix croakily. ‘I lost.’

‘Hair of
le chien
will sort everyone out,’ says Dave, returning to the table. He sits down next to me and gestures for Frank’s attention. ‘
Garçon
!’

I raise an eyebrow at him. ‘Robert’s getting coffees inside. And I don’t think they say
garçon
anymore.’ Yes! I spoke to Dave. High five to me.

‘Of course they do. “
Je joue à la guitar.
” “
Où est l’auberge de jeunesse
” and “
Garçon, il y’a une mouche dans mon potage.”
I passed GCSEs with these three sentences . . .
Monsieur
!
Trois biéres
,
s’il vous plait
,
un carafe du vin rouge
.
Merci
.’

He didn’t even ask who wanted beer. Just assumed he knew best. The arrogant take-charge attitude makes me wonder what he’d be like in bed.

Oh God. Blushing.

Robert returns with the coffees. Vix falls on hers with little cries of glee.

‘You shouldn’t have bothered, Robbiekins, I’ve got it covered,’ says Dave. ‘So, Abigail,’ he adds, turning to me. ‘What do you have planned for me, then? I’m assuming you’re in charge of administering fun.’

I hope Robert can’t really mind-read me, as I just thought exactly how I would like to administer fun for Dave. I open my mouth, and close it again. My tongue is in knots.

FuckingsaysomethingAbigailgoddammit.

‘Actually, Luke and Sophie are in charge. I’m just here for the ride,’ I finally say.

‘That’s practically my catchphrase,’ he says, eyes back to his BlackBerry.

I giggle slightly (OK, very) inanely, but no one else is laughing, in fact, the entire table is silent again. I look over at Robert for help, but he’s wearing sunglasses so I can’t catch his eye.

‘How’s work, Bella?’ says Robert, after a just-too-long-to-be-comfortable silence.

‘Marvellous.’ Bella, it turns out, is a paralegal for a leading divorce lawyer in Bath. ‘I help nail bastards to the wall all day,’ she adds, by way of explanation to Vix and me.

‘How wonderful that your job is also your hobby,’ says Dave sweetly.

There’s another long silence.

‘Does anyone want any peanuts?’ I say eventually.

‘Yes, please, angelface,’ says Dave.

Does anyone want any peanuts? I repeat endlessly to myself as I stand at the bar. Why not just say ‘I carried a watermelon’, Abigail, you fucking doofus?

Peanuts in hand, I walk back outside, just as JimmyJames returns with bags of croissants, Sophie and Luke arrive, and Frank brings out everyone’s beer and wine. The sudden injection of the happy couple, caffeine, alcohol, carbs and sugar, gives everyone a second (or in most cases, first) wind, and the table is happy and animated for the first time.

‘Right,’ says Luke, clapping his hands after a few minutes. ‘Welcome to Autignac. Thank you for coming all this way. Let the bridal games begin!’

‘Fuck me, is this a swingers’ party?’ says Dave in alarm. ‘I haven’t prepared. I need to freshen my manscaping.’

‘Manscaping?’ says JimmyJames.

‘Trim the undergrowth. Tidy the hedgerows so my bloom may grow, unfettered.’

JimmyJames stares at him blankly. Dave makes an exasperated face and points to his crotch. With serious effort, I control my giggles.

‘What? Are you kidding?’ says JimmyJames, astonished. ‘Rob. Do you do this?’ asks JimmyJames. Robert nods. ‘Bullshit! Luke? Ollie?’

‘It’s under control,’ nods Luke. Sophie grins at him and they snigger at a private joke.

‘I like to keep the playground clear of weeds,’ nods Ollie. It’s the first thing he’s said today, and we all laugh a little more than he deserves, to make him feel welcome.

JimmyJames is stunned. ‘When did this happen? Was there a memo? Why didn’t anyone tell me?’

‘All men should trim,’ says Vix. ‘I don’t want to floss and blow at the same time.’

I open my mouth to speak, but can’t find the words, so I close it again.

‘Right,’ says Dave. ‘Enough about your pube-fro. Let’s talk about my lunch. I want ice-cold lettuce, local cured ham, fresh-baked bread, creamy brie and lashings of wine.’

‘I think you mean lashings of ginger beer,’ says Luke.

‘I definitely mean lashings of wine,’ says Dave.

I giggle inanely again. Oh God, I hope I calm down soon.

Chapter Twenty One

A weekend with people who don’t all know each other is always a gamble. All you need is one no-speakies couple, one tired/ insecure/premenstrual girl who wants to take it out on everyone else, one hammered guy and well, the whole thing becomes a disaster time bomb.

As I’m discovering.

I don’t know what Bella’s problem is, and I’m not sure that I care. She’s being what my mother would call ‘a right little madam’. Snapping at her boyfriend Ollie, snapping at Dave, snapping at Luke, offering negative comments whenever she can – in fact, the only person she’s nice to is Robert, whom, slightly irritatingly, she seems to adore. It’s adding a distinct edge to the day.

Not that we’re not having a good time. We are. We’re the noisiest and least popular people in Autignac, and our loud, tipsy voices continually echo around the quiet village square. Sophie hates tension, so she’s dealing with the Bella situation by getting drunk with Vix and JimmyJames.

‘I went on a weekend away with just Robbie once,’ says Dave thoughtfully. ‘And it was, second to none, the best three days of silence I’ve ever had.’

‘Perhaps there was nothing worth saying,’ says Robert.

‘Well, you say nothing very well indeed,’ replies Dave.

Robert ignores him. Sitting in between them has been like watching a tennis match for much of the afternoon. There’s been a lot of biting put-downs.

Dave starts talking with JimmyJames about the time they stole Luke’s phone and changed all the contact names to ‘The Mexican’.

At one point during the story, Dave stretches out his arms to rest behind my chair and Sophie’s on the other side. His arm is just touching my back and a bit of my hair, but I feel like sparks are flying off me. It’s the kind of move Robert makes all the time, but with Robert I tend to lean back on his arm like it’s a pillow (sometimes I even pretend to plump it up to make it more comfortable). I can’t be that unselfconscious now: I fancy him too much.

As well as being incredibly, head-turningly good-looking, Dave is quick and witty and deeply, deeply confident. A killer combination. Every time his laughing blue eyes meet mine, my stomach flickers with nerves. It’s the kind of attraction that makes you crease up with longing. The kind that I’ve never, ever felt before. I’m sure it must be obvious to everyone around me.

So where is everything I’ve learned from Robert’s boot camp for single girls, you ask? I have no idea. I seem to have regressed to my early teenage years, when shyness made me silent and prone to nervous giggling around every boy in the entire world, whilst eternally longing/fearing that they might kiss me.

‘Why are you called JimmyJames, by the way?’ asks Vix.

‘Because on his first day of university, when he met the three of us, we said, what’s your name, and he said “Jimmy – uh, James”,’ replies Dave on his behalf.

‘Thanks, pretty boy. It was my one chance to not be called Jimmy anymore,’ says JimmyJames sadly. ‘And I fucked it up.’

‘It’s kind of weird how you three went to the same school and the same university,’ says Sophie.

I find my voice. ‘You’re in love with each other,’ I croak, and immediately blush as everyone looks at me. Argh. My nerves are getting on my nerves.

‘She’s right,’ says Bella. ‘It’s sick. I mean, it’s just fucking weird.’

I didn’t mean it in a derogatory way, I want to say, but Bella has twisted the conversation into a nasty corner. Everyone moves on.

‘I’ll always be the new boy in the group, and I’ve known them for 12 years,’ says JimmyJames.

‘Hardly a boy anymore,’ says Dave. ‘And Robbiekins and I fell out of love a long time ago, though he secretly still adores me and I enjoy patronising him.’ He turns to Robert and sweetly adds : ‘“Patronising” means when people are talking down to you, dearie.’

Robert’s face doesn’t change.

Dave’s phone rings. ‘It’s my mother,’ he says, and presses ‘answer’. ‘Mummy dearest! How may I be of service?’ He pauses, and, clearly playing to his audience, rolls his eyes. ‘Why are you calling me about this again? I thought that – well I’m just – but I don’t – fine. I’ll put him on.’ He throws his phone to Robert. ‘Explain the Sky box to her. I can’t do it again.’

Covering the phone speaker with his hand to drown out everyone’s shouts of laughter, Robert walks away from the table.

Dave sighs. ‘I can’t handle my mother when she’s being like that. I always tell her to call him. She loves him more than me, anyway.’

‘She does,’ agrees Luke. ‘She loves me more than you, too.’

‘So, the wedding,’ says Sophie. ‘Can we talk about that? Since it’s what we’re here to do? Sorry, Ollie, I know this is boring for you.’

‘Not at all,’ he says, smiling tightly. He and Bella have been talking via eye-contact for the past few minutes, I’ve noticed. Funny how fighting couples do that.

‘What am I wearing?’ says Dave. ‘I look exceptionally nice in a morning suit.’

‘None of that shit,’ says Luke dismissively. ‘Just a well-cut dark grey suit.’

‘What?’ says Dave, outraged, as Robert sits back down at the table. ‘Robert, have you heard about this? Plain suits? Is this a wedding or another day at the office?’

‘Your mother sends her love . . . to Luke,’ says Robert, throwing the mobile phone at Dave.

‘Think
Oceans 11
, OK, Dave?’ says Sophie placatingly. ‘Sheesh! You are a diva. And girls, how do you feel about pale silvery-grey dresses, I’ve bookmarked a few different styles so you can choose one that suits you.’

‘Sounds like a fairytale,’ says Bella acerbically.

Sophie’s face falls. She’s spent hours looking for dresses, and was so worried about what Vix and Bella would say that she was almost ill. In the end, I spent an entire Sunday with her going over her shortlist, and we agreed that if we all wore identical dresses we’d look like cushions on a sofa. Plus, Vix is short with enormous boobs, so she’d be the overstuffed cushion.

Now, Bella doesn’t know all this. But it shouldn’t matter. God, I hate rudeness. I turn and stare at Bella pointedly. No one fucks with my sister.

‘I can’t wait,’ says Vix pointedly, glancing at Bella and then back at us with a big smile. ‘I look fantastic in pale grey.’

‘Bella doesn’t like anything that’s not about her,’ says Dave. ‘Just ignore her. I do.’

‘Oh, fuck off,’ snaps Bella.

Sophie smiles glassily, but her eyes look sad. And I’m furious. I narrow my eyes at Bella. Just shut up.

‘The night before the wedding, we’re having a rehearsal dinner,’ says Luke.

‘Can I give a speech at that? I want to give at least one speech, somewhere,’ says JimmyJames cheerfully, tossing a peanut into the air to catch in his mouth. He misses it completely, as he has every other time he’s tried all afternoon.

‘What’s the date again?’ asks Dave.

‘Are you serious? March 7,’ says Luke, throwing a cork at his head. ‘I will tattoo it to your chest if I need to.’

‘Chill out, groomzilla,’ says Dave, calmly. ‘Now, listen. I want four buttons on the cuff. And just half an inch of sleeve showing.’

Vix and Sophie start talking about necklines and dress lengths, and JimmyJames, Luke and Dave about three-vs-four buttons. Bella and Ollie are staring at each other furiously again.

I glance at Robert, who’s turned very pale. I immediately know why: he’s just remembered that he has to make the best man speech. I’ve witnessed him remember it every couple of days ever since that night in The Pantechnicon Rooms. The warning signs are always the same. His colour drains, he stares into space, his brow furrows even further than usual, and he starts to bite the cuticle on his left thumb.

I put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

‘It’ll be fine,’ I whisper. ‘We’ll write it together, remember?’

Robert takes a deep breath and nods. ‘OK.’

‘I’ve got notes. There’s a formula for how you do it. I found it on the internet.’

Robert glances over at me and grins. ‘Thanks, Abby, darling. Such a geek, always making notes.’

‘Shut up. You need me.’

‘What’s all this?’ shouts Dave. ‘You two are very close, aren’t you? Let’s make it a double wedding!’

‘No!’ I exclaim, a bit too quickly. ‘Finally,’ says Dave, clapping his hands and staring at me with his ridiculously blue eyes. ‘Someone impervious to Rob’s endless charms.’

‘The competitive streak between you two is weird,’ says Sophie.

‘You’re just saying that because you went for the albino,’ says Dave.

‘I think he’s far more handsome than either you or Rob, actually,’ she retorts, flushed with angry loyalty.

‘I agree,’ I say, trying to help, then realise I sound like I fancy my future brother-in-law. Ah well, may as well roll with it. ‘I mean . . . yeah. Luke is totally hot.’

‘It’s true, I am extraordinarily good-looking,’ nods Luke, swigging his beer. ‘Shame no one knew it when I was growing up with these two. They used to have snogging competitions at our school socials. It was disgusting.’

‘It’s not a competition when one of you is a born winner,’ says Dave.

‘It’s certainly not a competition when one of the contestants was 5’4” until he was 18,’ says Robert. ‘You were far prettier than most of those girls, I admit.’

‘Until I was 15,’ says Dave loudly, to drown out everyone’s laughter. ‘I was 15 when I had my growth spurt, actually. I can’t help that my voice didn’t break when I was six, like some people.’

‘Nature picks the real men early,’ says Robert, grinning. Finally, he’s snapped out of his mood. When he’s quiet, it’s very noticeable.

‘Why don’t you real men go to the bar, then?’ suggests Sophie. ‘We’ve run out of drinks.’

The guys get up and run towards the door of the bar, pulling each other and fighting to get inside first. Robert wins, followed by Dave. Luke walks in with JimmyJames hanging onto his back like a koala. Ollie follows them sedately, and would appear to be the only sober one if it wasn’t for the fact that he misses the step and stumbles inside.

‘Frank’s gonna love them,’ says Sophie drily.

‘Are they always like that?’ asks Vix. ‘So, um, competitive?’

‘Yes,’ say Sophie and Bella in unison, and both start laughing. I think it’s the first time Bella’s laughed today, though I’m still peeved with her for the fairytale comment. Then there’s an awkward pause.

‘Ollie seems lovely,’ says Vix. Untruthfully.

‘You think? He’s fucking furious at me. We’ve never fought for 24 hours straight,’ she says, and pauses. ‘It’s actually kind of fun.’

There’s a pause, but no one is game to ask her what they’re fighting about. Bella lights a cigarette and sighs, and for a second, I think she might cry.

Then she looks up and assumes her normal sexy-bemused mask. I wonder if she’s just unhappy.

‘I heart Robert, by the way,’ says Vix. ‘He’s gorgeous. I bags being his partner in the ceremony.’

‘I don’t care who I’m partnered with, as long as it’s not fucking Dave,’ says Bella.

Sophie smiles nervously. ‘I’m sure you two can get on for one, um, night?’

‘I wouldn’t bet on it,’ says Bella.

The inevitable awkward pause that follows is relieved only by the guys spilling out of the bar, shouting at each other.

Dave and Robert are stuck in the doorway, shoulder to shoulder, as neither will let the other out first. Robert eventually wins, as he’s the taller and broader one. Dave looks thunderous, and immediately heads across the square to make a phone call. Robert sits down next to me.

‘Abbyyyy . . .’ he croons, propping his legs over mine as though they were a footstool.

‘Oh, no. When you’re singing at me, I know we’re in trouble,’ I say, swinging my knees away so his feet crash to the floor.

‘A bit like when you’re sleeping on me,’ he retorts.

‘One time!’ I say. ‘I fell asleep in a cab once! And you won’t let me forget it.’

‘Actually, you did it that night we went out in Shoreditch about a month ago, too, remember? And you snogged that hipster guy with a beard,’ says Robert.

‘Beardy!’ I’m delighted at the memory. ‘He was far too cool for me, though. I mean, I was a Brownie. I just don’t think ex-Brownies can ever be hipsters. We’re a bit uncool forever.’

‘Do you still have your Brownie uniform? I love playing dress-up,’ says Dave, who has finished his phone call and is back at the table. I didn’t realise, or I’d never be able to talk so unself-consciously. My face is hot again, and I don’t know what to say, so I just frown up at him.

As I look away, I meet Bella’s eye, she stares at me without expression for a second, and then looks away. God, she’s unpleasant. So unlike Luke. He’s sitting on Sophie’s lap now, nuzzling her head lovingly. JimmyJames starts singing ‘That’s amore’. Robert and Dave join in, very loudly.

‘I think we should take this party home,’ says Sophie, as yet another local woman pauses and frowns at us.

‘I
knew
it was a swingers’ party,’ says Dave.

‘Christ, can you keep it in your pants for one night?’ snaps Bella.

‘Easy, kids,’ says Robert. ‘Everyone be nice.’

Sophie and I exchange a worried glance as we leave the square. This is not going as we planned.