Greatest Love Story of All Time (30 page)

I left out the bit when I’d ‘borrowed’ Nellie’s BlackBerry and had seen a message from ‘Michael’. There was a limit to how far I was prepared to shame myself. Jenny squeezed my hand. ‘Oh, little Franny, you poor thing. How you must have tortured yourself!’

Nellie was all but squealing with excitement. ‘Yuh, I was
totally
with Michael Slater the day you had Lily!’ she crowed. ‘But how funny, because you’d palmed him off on
me
for the day so you could see Fran!’ Jenny nodded, smiling. Dave forgot himself and reached for the wine, remembering at the last minute and returning, slightly disgruntled, to his virgin cocktail.

‘No offence, girls, but Michael isn’t rully my thing. I mean, he’s lovely but he’s a bit, well … 
sedate
,’Nellie said.

I started laughing. As if Nellie would ever be interested in my boy. And once I’d started laughing, I couldn’t stop. ‘I’m a certifiable mentalist. I’ll totally understand if you decide to press charges,’ I said to her.

She cackled with delight. ‘If you go down, I’ll be going down with you, hon! I never knew anyone stalked as much as me!’

‘See?’ I said to Dave. ‘See? It isn’t just me. Everyone does this stuff!’

‘Whatever, Fannybaws. You just tell yourself that.’

I looked at Jenny to see if she, too, was about to
throw her cap into the stalking ring but she seemed suddenly rather sad. ‘Are you OK?’ I mouthed at her.

‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘But Michael’s a mess. I’m so worried about him. He misses you so much – he’s just not been himself since you split up.’

My stomach was churning again and I bit my lip. ‘But, Jenny, he finished with me. It was all his idea. The separation, the ninety days without contact, everything. I just sat there and cried.’

Jenny nodded sadly. ‘I know. He told me. He told me everything except WHY he did it. He …’ Now she seemed on the edge of tears. ‘He was going to propose to you that night, Fran. He had the most beautiful ring … It was our grandmother’s, made for her in Egypt in the thirties. I just don’t get it. It’s so sad.’ Her lip trembled a little and I felt tears gather in my own eyes.

‘Oh, God,’ I whispered. The table went silent. ‘He had something in his pocket. I bloody knew it was a ring-box. I miss him, Jenny. So much.’ A loud sniff to my left revealed that Nellie had decided to join in. I saw a single perfect pearl of a tear glide down her flawless cheek. Her empathy was the final straw and, without further ado, I started bawling. Not perfect pearly Daniels tears but messy, mascara-filled globules of sadness, full of the shock and horror of that night in Green Park.

The women cried while the men shuffled in their seats, embarrassed. ‘Come on, girls,’ barked Michael,
half impatiently, half sympathetically. ‘It’s not the end of the world! They can get back together!’

Jenny nodded rapidly. ‘Yes!’ she cried. ‘I so hope you do!’

I poked at my lamb cutlet. ‘He’s been texting me recently saying how much he misses me.’

Nellie mopped up her one tear and yelled, ‘Traitor! Behind my back!’ Her Michael shot her a warning look. I suspected his tolerance of this situation was beginning to fray.

‘Yes …’ Jenny paused. ‘He heard you’d started seeing someone. Someone beginning with D? I can’t remember. Is that true?’

‘Oh, yes! Duke! What happened to him?’ Nellie asked interestedly.

I blushed deeply but Dave laughed. ‘Duke Ellington is Fran’s cat,’ he explained kindly. Nellie gasped, thrilled at my further deception. ‘But she
is
dating,’ he confirmed.

‘I’m dating but it means nothing,’ I said hastily. ‘My friends made me promise to go on eight dates while I waited for the ninety days to be over. It’s just a silly game.’ Jenny’s face showed relief. ‘I thought I’d be more likely to get him back if I waited the ninety days like he suggested, and worked on being a bit less insane in the meantime. He’s going to be my date number eight, I hope.’

‘Good plan, Franny,’ Jenny said. ‘I think that’s a great idea. Michael’s a fool and this bloody ninety-days thing
is a predicament of his own making. Let him sweat it out. Trust me, I know how much he’s missing you.’

Dmitri had his head in his hands and was shaking with laughter.

‘What?’ I said to him.

‘I just cannot believe, Fran, that you told Nellie you were dating your cat.’

I felt a little stab of fear, hoping that Duke Ellington was now back in my kitchen.

Half an hour later I was rooting around for my wallet. I needed to get home, first to find Duke Ellington, and second, to work out what to do about Michael.

‘You’re not off to see Michael already, are you?’ asked Dave, suspiciously.

He was fully on my case. If I planned to see Michael before the eight dates were over, I’d have to do so in secret.

‘Duke Ellington’s disappeared. I need to go home and try to find him,’ I replied.

‘Seriously? That little fucker never strays far. Do you want a hand finding him?’

‘No, no, don’t be silly, it’s miles out of your way.’ I got out a couple of twenties and put them on the table. Michael waved them away dismissively. ‘Really, please don’t.’ He shook his head and I noted that his expensive hairstyle didn’t move.

Dave pushed his chair back. ‘Thanks, matey,’ he said to Michael. ‘And may I apologize on behalf of
my colleague here for her crazy behaviour?’ he added, with a grin.

A chorus of ‘Not at all’ ensued.

I sighed, smiling. Fran the lovable clown was back in business. But she was a damn sight better than Fran the drunken stalker, even I could grasp that.

‘I’m so happy to see you,’ I said, as I hugged Jenny goodbye.

‘You too, darling Fran. I’ve got my fingers crossed for March the twenty-third. Even Mum and Dad are hoping you two will get back together!’ She giggled. We both knew that this was not true.

Nellie stood up and grabbed me in a warm embrace. ‘So nice to meet another stalker, babe,’ she enthused. ‘We’ll be cured some day, eh?’ She looked affectionately at her gold-plated fiancé. ‘Actually, I think I already am.’

‘Did you look on the roof?’ Dave asked, as we sped along St Pancras Way. He had a roll-up tucked behind his ear, and his eyes were dark and oddly foreboding as the shadows of London shifted across his face.

‘Stefania did,’ I replied.

‘Hmm. Reckon I know where he might be.’

The taxi rumbled on. I hoped very much that he did.

‘NOZZING!’ Stefania hissed, as soon as we stepped through the gate. And then: ‘Oh, good evening to
you Dave.’ She smiled warmly as Dave bent down and kissed her on the cheek. She was so pretty when she smiled. ‘To vhat do ve owe zis pleasure?’

‘Just thought I’d pop over and see if I can find that damned cat. Trust him to cause a bloody nuisance when Fran’s a wreck.’

Stefania rolled her eyes in agreement.

Dave strode to the back of Stefania’s shed purposefully. ‘Oi, Duke Ellington, you little fucker, are you down there?’ he said, as he disappeared out of range.

Stefania watched him go and smiled slowly. ‘Aha! I zink he is looking in ze old pit where ze cars went.’

We heard a bang and a bit of a commotion.

‘He’s down here!’ came a muffled shout from under the shed. ‘And he’s just fucking bitten my hand.’

‘My baby! THANK YOU SO MUCH, DAVE!’ I jumped up and down a bit. ‘Do you need help?’

‘No point all of us getting attacked, he’s only – STOP IT, Duke Ellington, YOU BASTARD!’ I giggled and started to fill Stefania in on tonight’s events. Assorted bangs and curses from under the shed accompanied my recital.

Stefania was strangely silent. Eventually she said, ‘Frances, I sink you need to vait ze ninety days before you see Michael. I sink zis very strongly. No, in fact I TELL you. Stefania is TELLING you, Fran.’

Startled by her ferocity, I began to explain that that was exactly what I’d decided to do but then an
enraged miaow rent the evening air, followed by ‘FUCKING BASTARD,’ from Dave. I giggled. Duke Ellington had been excavated. A couple of seconds later, Dave’s head emerged from under the shed, his large left arm clasping an angry, scrabbling cat. I clapped my hands, flooded with relief at the sight of my little grey weapon. Dave tried to hand Duke Ellington to me but my cat leaped out of his arms and galloped angrily up the stairs to my flat. The night was silent again.

Stefania had disappeared. I shrugged. This obsession she had with the Eight Date Deal really was quite ridiculous.

‘Dave.’ He carried on brushing himself down. ‘Dave!’

‘Aye, Fannybaws.’

‘Thank you. For everything. You’re a true friend. I am so grateful to you, for the drink thing, for Mum, looking after me tonight, finding my cat – everything. You’re a bloody legend. Freya is a very lucky woman.’ And with that I threw my arms around him.

Dave chuckled. ‘No further assaults, remember?’

I removed my arms hastily.

‘What did you do with Stefania?’

‘Oh, she flew into a sulk about Michael. She’s worried I won’t complete your bloody date challenge. Honestly, the way you lot are carrying on about it!’

Dave hooked the roll-up from behind his ear. ‘Just do it,’ he said. ‘Night.’ He walked off, whistling.

‘THANKS, DAVE!’ I yelled after him.

Few people had friends like Dave.

Twenty minutes later, grateful to be going to bed sober for once, I was curled up with a rather cobwebby Duke Ellington and my phone cradled in my hand. A message to Michael sat on the screen, ready to be dispatched, the cursor blinking patiently. I’d read it approximately five thousand times now and I reckoned it was good to go.

I’m sorry about the other night. I thought you’d got engaged. Long story. 23 March is only three weeks away. Let’s see each other then, OK? And you were right – no contact will make it all the better. X

I thought about it for a few more seconds, remembering all the pain and despair I’d felt over the last weeks. And then I thought of his grandmother’s ring, and the sadness in Jenny’s face when she’d talked about him, and knew it was OK. He loved me. He’d made a mistake. He’d panicked, for whatever reason, and now he was paying the price.

I was safe. I turned off the light and pressed send. Hugging myself, I smiled into the darkness. In three weeks I’d get my boy back.

That was probably the most complicated compliment I’ve ever received but thanks anyway. Much as I like your photos I am a bit confused by your bi-polar wardrobe. Are you Power Woman or Scruffy Bastard? You seem to be half and half.

Regardless, you’re lovely. I wish I could meet you sooner. I’m tired. Can’t sleep. Fed up today. Hope you and your cat/mad neighbour/weird friends are all well. Fx

‘You look quite normal tonight. What went wrong?’ Dave asked me.

I peered at my jeans, Converses and an old H&M stripy top. ‘Well, just having a casual day …’ I said.

Stefania started laughing. ‘Stuff and nonsense! You vore zose other clozes because you thought Michael was making ze sex wiz Nellie! You thought you vould pull him back viz ze tailoring! But you vere, of course, very wrong.’ I blushed. To soften her words, Stefania laid a hand sympathetically on my arm. ‘You are a good girl, really,’ she said.

‘Can we stop blowing smoke up Fran’s arse and get an update on the Eight Date Deal?’ Leonie said, slurping
her gin and tonic. She was wearing a really beautiful 1940s hourglass dress that on me would have been matronly but on Leonie was the sexiest garment ever made. She was wearing blue tights with yellow vintage boots and her hair was falling down her back in cascades of fiery red. No wonder Alex was wetting his pants over her.

‘Yes, vot is the latest viz your dates, please?’ Stefania chimed in, pulling out a little pocket book.

I burst out laughing. ‘What the fuck is that? Are you taking
notes?’

She nodded solemnly. ‘Yes. Ve need to make sure sings are covered. You have less zan sree weeks to go.’

‘I’m getting back together with Michael. What does it matter?’ I said gently.

They all ignored me.

I sighed. ‘OK. Well, in two days’ time I have a date with Martin.’

Stefania started scribbling. ‘And who is zis Martin?’

‘Dunno. Don’t really care. I just want this to be over. Let’s see … I think it said he was six foot two, he’s a banker and he lives in Parsons Green.’

‘Good luck, Fannybaws. Sounds like a match made in heaven,’ Dave said helpfully.

‘Shut it. Yeah, he’s about thirty-four, and he said he likes cheese. That doesn’t sound too bad.’

Stefania continued to scribble. ‘Income?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know! I picked him because he was the best of a bad bunch!’

Stefania looked disappointed.

‘I’m going on the date, OK? What more do you want?’

‘I vant you to take zis more seriously,
zat
’s vhat I vant.’

‘Er, guys, given that I’ve forced myself to go on four shit dates already, I do rather think you should be a bit more supportive.’ Silence. ‘Jesus, I went on them to keep you happy!’

‘Stefania, it’s OK,’ Leonie said eventually. ‘Personally I think we should have written into the rules that Fran had full sex with at least two men before she saw Michael again … but never mind.’

‘
Rules?
’

‘Of course,’ Stefania muttered crossly, waving her notebook at me.

Leonie carried on: ‘Anyway, three men to go before Michael. Maybe this Martin will be able to give you one on Saturday,’ she said hopefully.

‘Unlikely. We’re meeting on Hampstead Heath for a picnic.’

‘Perfect. Everyone has sex there,’ she replied, apparently without irony.

‘It’s fuckin’ March!’ Dave said, horrified.

‘Yes, but it’s going to be nineteen degrees on Saturday. How awesome is that? And we can always decamp to Hampstead if it gets cold. For a cup of tea,’ I added pointedly.

Dave raised an eyebrow. ‘Do you fancy this chap then?’

‘Nope,’ I replied. ‘Guys. Please get this into your heads. I love Michael. He’s my One. And he wants me back. I agree that dating is a good idea but stop, I beg you, planning my freaking wedding to some geek off the Internet. Cos it ain’t going to happen!’