One Step Closer to You (9 page)

‘I love you too, Polly.’ We hug. ‘Be careful, honey,’ she adds. ‘I like this guy, but …’

‘Careful of what?’ I exclaim, as Matthew pulls me on to the dance floor.

I love this feeling. I’m dancing. I’m free. I wave at Janey, beckoning her to dance with us. She and Graham remain at the bar. Soon Matthew’s hands are travelling down my back and around my hips. My top is coming loose; I feel his hands against my bare skin. As he twists me round in his arms I feel sweet anticipation for the night ahead. I nearly fall. Matthew steadies me in his arms, before saying quietly, ‘Let’s get out of here.’

I can see a wild streak in his blue eyes that makes me feel alive.

‘And do what?’

‘Play scrabble.’

I push him away, he reels me back in, hands clasped around my back, our bodies pressed together.

‘I have plans with a beautiful woman.’ His eyes don’t leave mine.

‘Where is she?’

‘You’re funny.’

‘You’re sure of yourself. So what are these plans?’

He whispers them into my ear, his face brushing against mine, his breath warm.

*

I’m giggling as I try to unlock the front door. ‘Hurry up,’ Matthew is saying, kissing my neck, ‘or I’ll fuck you right here.’

Hugo’s bedroom door is shut. We head into the kitchen. I open the fridge. ‘Later,’ he says, putting the bottle down and taking my hand. ‘Come on.’

I lead him into my bedroom, shut the door and he pushes me against it. We kiss, urgently, passionately. He unbuckles his belt and the zip of his jeans. He presses his mouth against mine again. Then he reaches his hand up my skirt and pulls one of my legs so I’m half straddling him. He grabs my arse, hoists me up, everything happening so quickly. His hand is back up my skirt, peeling my knickers off. I want him now. Now. In seconds he’s inside me. ‘You like that,’ he murmurs when I groan with pleasure.

*

The following morning I find Hugo in the kitchen, already showered and dressed for the gym. I glance at my watch. It’s only nine o’clock.

I flick on the kettle. How had last night happened? I can’t remember getting home, or saying goodbye to Janey. Did we even say goodbye? I must call her to see if she’s OK.

Back to last night … I think Matt and I hailed a cab. I remember his hand creeping up my skirt.

I grin. The sex was amazing. Rough but incredible, and I want more. After our door sex we’d finished off the rest of the wine before moving to the bed. Matthew had pinned my wrists down against the mattress and told me not to move. I loved him being in control. So often I’ve slept with guys
who don’t know what they’re doing, their touch hesitant, but with Matthew …

‘Good night?’ Hugo asks.

‘What?’ I say, jolted from my thoughts. There is something so innocent and wholesome about Hugo as he sits at the table eating his buttered toast and runny honey, chubby cheeks cleanly shaven.

‘I said, good night?’

‘I’m so sorry, Hugo. It was Janey.’

‘Janey. Right.’

‘She was really upset.’ He doesn’t believe me. ‘Will’s been cheating on her. You got my message, didn’t you?’

He nods. ‘How is she?’

‘Not great.’

We hear a door slam. ‘Is someone here, Polly?’

‘Uh-huh,’ I say.

‘Have you called Alex’s girlfriend?’ Clipped tones again.

He knows I haven’t.

‘I will, today.’ I open the fridge, grab the milk. ‘Are you in tonight? I could cook us something … I promise this time I won’t go out.’

‘Morning.’ Matthew enters the kitchen naked. ‘Oh shit,’ he says when he sees my brother, but he makes no attempt to cover himself up.

‘Matt, this is Hugo. Hugo’s my brother.’

‘Sorry, I didn’t know we had company.’ Matthew shakes Hugo’s hand. ‘Otherwise I’d have put some clothes on.’

‘Oh don’t worry, Hugo can’t see your you-know-what.’

‘Come here, Miss Stephens.’ He grabs me, smacks me hard on the arse, both of us laughing.

‘And even if I could, I’m sure there’s not much to see,’ Hugo says, shutting us both up, before leaving the kitchen.

*

Later that morning, after Matt has left, I think about Janey. I must call her. I know she was trying to put on a brave face last night, but she’ll be hurting right now. She’ll also want to know what happened with Matthew, but I’ll play it down. The last thing she needs is me going on about a bloke. When he kissed me goodbye at the front door, he promised he’d call. All my instincts are telling me to stay away. Besides, it was a one-night stand, wasn’t it? It was sex, that’s all. There’s no way he’s the kind of guy who wants a serious relationship. Imagine taking him home to meet my mother! Just as I’m about to call Janey, my mobile vibrates. When I see the text I am unable to wipe the childish grin off my face.

See you tonight? Wear that short skirt again. Mx

@GateauAuChocolat
Happy Valentine’s Day! Have a romantic lunch with us. It’s Parmesan chicken breasts & my famous passion fruit roulade.

‘Ta-dah! Happy Valentine’s Day,’ says Janey, arriving at my flat later that evening with flowers and a bottle of elder-flower fizz.

‘Sh.’ I press a finger to my lips, gesturing to Louis’s bedroom door. We tiptoe into the kitchen. ‘Thanks so much for the flowers and this.’ I open the bottle. ‘You know, I’d never mind if you wanted a proper drink.’

‘I know, but I don’t want to.’

In the early days of my recovery I did find it hard when I was out with friends. I’d try to avoid bars and pubs at all costs, as I’d only have to look at their glass and wonder, ‘Can’t I have just one?’ There’s a saying in AA, if you hang
around long enough in a barber’s, you’ll eventually get a haircut.

Now it’s almost irrelevant what anyone else drinks, but I’m touched that Janey brings elderflower. Hugo’s the same. He always brings round a bottle of Diet Coke and celebrates the fact that I’m doing him a favour since he’ll have no hangover.

‘So, how many Valentine’s cards did you receive?’ I ask Janey. ‘Did you need your secretary to open them?’

Janey now runs her own film location business with a contact she made in the industry. Shortly after I gave birth to Louis, she was made redundant, so after months of looking for a job, she decided to set up her own business. ‘How many cards did I receive?’ she says out loud. ‘Let me see. None. Diddly-squat. Gave the postman a day off. I remember the days at school when I used to get double figures. What’s gone wrong?’

‘Oh Janey, that’s too bad. Better luck next year.’

‘Watch it! Did you get any?’

‘I did. I got two.’

Her mouth opens wide. ‘How exciting! Who are they from?’ Janey sits down on one of the stools in the corner of my kitchen while I check on the salmon. I’m baking it with crème fraiche and I’ve made a watercress salad. ‘I don’t know. One of them wasn’t signed.’

‘Even better! Any ideas? Where are they?’ She hops off the stool in search of them.

I tell her one is on the mantelpiece, ‘Along with all my party invites.’

Janey dashes into the sitting room, but returns slowly with the card. It’s a giant heart with a couple of red crayon scribbles in the middle of it. Inside it reads, ‘Mummy, my heart bursts with love for you’. Aunt Viv and I had shed a tear when I’d opened it at work.

‘Ah, Louis is so sweet, but for a second … ? Where’s the other one?’

I take the card out of my handbag. It’s a picture of a champagne bottle and two glasses.

Janey opens it. It’s blank inside, apart from the printed message in capital letters, ‘EVERY MOMENT WITH YOU IS A CHAMPAGNE MOMENT.’

I tell myself to stop being so paranoid. It’s not Matt’s style; it’s far too corny.

‘Crikey.’ Janey examines the card again. ‘I wish people would just have the courage to sign it. Any ideas who it could be from?’

I shake my head. How would Matt even know where I live? ‘It’s probably a joke,’ I suggest.

‘I don’t think so. If someone’s bothered to get a card and stick it in the post, someone’s
hot
for you.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘I’m not being ridiculous! Come on, Polly. We’re attractive women in our
prime
. We’re babes!’

Janey is conventionally pretty, with honey-blond hair,
petite features, pale-blue eyes and creamy marshmallow skin. She likes to wear tops that show off her generous cleavage. I’m the opposite in looks with my long dark hair and dark-brown eyes to match, large wide mouth and an enormous dimple in my right cheek that has always attracted attention.

‘We don’t have any warts, or chicken legs,’ she continues, ‘or unfortunate facial hair, or bad breath …’

‘You do have a bit of a …’ I press my top lip.

‘Sod off. I do not have a moustache. Your beard needs trimming,’ she adds.

I laugh.

‘I mean, when you see some couples out and about,’ Janey continues, ‘I do wonder where we’re going wrong. It used to be so much easier picking up men. Is there no one on the horizon, Polly? No one you can think of who could have sent this to you?’ She shakes the card at me. ‘You must be able to think of someone?’

‘These are beautiful.’ I arrange the pale-pink roses in a vase.

‘Polly Stephens, you’re avoiding the question!’

I think about Ben for a split second, but shake my head. ‘How about you?’

‘Well, there is this one guy.’

‘Now you tell me.’ I sit down on the stool next to her. ‘Come on, don’t keep me in suspense.’

‘There’s nothing to tell yet. He’s called Paul. He’s a
photographer. I met him last week at this stately home in Guildford. It was booked for a fashion shoot, some country clothes catalogue. Amazing place.’ As she describes the sweeping staircase and the unusual domed reception room, I stop her mid-flow with, ‘Back to Paul.’

‘Oh yes. Anyway, we swapped numbers and he called. We’re going out this Friday.’

‘What’s he like?’

‘Bald.’

‘Bald?’

She smiles. ‘Yeah, but
sexy
bald. Think …’ she clicks her fingers, ‘Think Bruce Willis, no hang on, not quite right, think … Jason Statham. He’s easily confident enough to carry it off and he was really funny, Polly. He’s older than us. Think he’s early forties. The models were falling over themselves to get his attention. He was cracking all these jokes to make them relax. Anyway, we’ll see. I don’t want to curse it, we haven’t even been on a date yet. He might be an idiot when he’s not behind the camera. He could be married for all I know. Or he might not pay. I think a guy
has
to pay on a first date, don’t you? There’s plenty of scope for it all to go wrong.’

‘Yeah, but plenty of scope for it to go right too.’

*

Over supper Janey asks how her favourite godson is.

‘You only have one,’ I remind her. Very few of our friends
are married or have children yet. I was certainly in the minority having Louis aged twenty-eight.

‘He’s naughty,’ I tell her. ‘His name was in the red book again.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, his latest trick is taking his money out of his piggy bank to buy biscuits from the school canteen. It’s hardly surprising he hasn’t been eating his sandwiches.’

‘I wonder where his naughtiness comes from?’

‘Can’t think.’

Janey and I reminisce about our schooldays. ‘Do you remember our hairdressing camp in the corner of the lacrosse field? I think I paid you fifty pence for hacking my hair off. I’ll have it back, thanks.’ She holds out her hand and I slap it. ‘This salmon is delicious by the way. You always were a good cook.’

I tell Janey about all the regulars today wanting a slice of the raspberry and passion fruit roulade. ‘Ben came in …’

‘Hang on, Ben … Is he the one looking after his niece? The one you’ve been spending time with?’

I tell Janey about him in more detail, mentioning how much I admire him for looking after Emily.

‘Blimey. What an amazing guy.’

‘He is.’

‘Hang on a minute, why didn’t we think of him before?
Ben sent you that card,’ she says in triumph, refusing to let the mystery go. ‘That’s it! Do you fancy him?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘I just don’t.’

‘Why?’

‘I can’t explain.’

‘Have a go, ’cos it seems to me this guy could be perfect for you.’

‘He’s not interested in a relationship, Janey. All his energy is taken up with looking after Emily and he’s lost his sister. He needs a friend right now, not a complication.’

‘Maybe, but …’

‘I don’t need a complication either. Much better this way. I’ve never really had a bloke who’s been a good friend,’ I admit. ‘I’m enjoying it.’

‘Do you want to meet someone?’

‘Think so.’ I clear the plates. ‘But what will be will be.’

‘Oh don’t give me that bollocks!’

‘I believe in fate.’

‘Polly, tell me if I’m way out of line,’ she says quietly, ‘but is this because of Matthew?’

‘Is what because of him?’

‘Not wanting to go on any dates?’

‘I’ve been out with a few men since, you know,’ I mutter.

‘Mr Two Cubes was the last, wasn’t he?’

‘Yes, but …’

‘You and I, we’re not going to meet anyone unless we put ourselves out there, you know? Some lovely man isn’t going to crash-land on our sofa.’

‘I wish he would. In fact I wish you could order a bloke like you can a takeaway. “I’ll have a George Clooney, please.”’

Janey doesn’t smile. ‘I wouldn’t blame you, I’d be scared too.’ She pauses. ‘But Matthew was a long time ago.’

‘I know. I’ve moved on.’

‘When I think what he did to you …’

‘Don’t, Janey. My fault too, for falling for him.’

‘Yes, but …’

‘Let’s change the subject.’

‘I’m sorry, it’s just … well, I want you to be happy. Aren’t you lonely, Polly?’

‘No. I have you, Hugo, Ben, all my friends, Aunt Viv, Louis, I’m lucky.’ I don’t tell her that part of the reason I did go out with David was because I was lonely. I desperately wanted to be in a normal relationship after Matthew, prove to myself I could do it. ‘I have all my AA friends. Some of the people who come to AA only have the clothes on their backs.’ I look at Janey, who seems so sad all of a sudden. ‘Are you lonely, sweetheart?’

She nods. ‘I know I’m lucky in many ways too. I have my work, my health, I love my job, but sometimes it’s still not enough. Like today … I know Valentine’s Day is tacky, but it’s like Christmas. It highlights being alone, having no one
to hold you at the end of the day. I hate coming home to a dark empty flat. I’m being silly. Ignore me.’

‘Janey, you won’t be alone forever. You’re beautiful and funny and you’re about to go on a date with a hot bald photographer. He doesn’t realise yet what a lucky man he is.’

We clutch hands. ‘This time next year, Polly, you and I will be having a different conversation. Deal?’

‘Deal, but for the time being …’ I get up from the table and open the fridge, ‘how about some of my special Valentine’s cake?’

*

That night my dreams are muddled. One minute I’m on a yacht with Ben, we’re laughing in the sunshine; then Hugo is angry with me, flushing a bottle of wine down the sink. I’m in Norfolk next, at school with Janey, cutting off her hair with a pair of jagged scissors. I’m in a school fight, defending my brother, telling a crowd of bullies to stop calling him names. Mum and Dad are disappointed in me. ‘We warned you,’ Mum is scolding, wagging her finger at me, ‘you know what happened to Aunt Vivienne and Granddad Arthur.’ Next I see Louis as a baby lying in the middle of a main road, vulnerable and alone, cars and lorries heading towards him. Matthew is watching. I scream, ‘Pick him up!’ but he’s laughing at me. Next Louis’s hand is about to touch a blazing-hot hob. I wake up in a sweat. I gulp down my water, recover my breath. I rush into Louis’s
room. I see him in bed, his breathing even. The relief is overwhelming. He looks perfect when he sleeps, so innocent. I’d kill anyone that hurt him.

Quietly I head into the kitchen. Why am I dreaming about him? I don’t want him to take up any of my thoughts. I find myself walking over to the fireplace. I pick up the card, now displayed next to Louis’s on the mantelpiece. Janey had insisted I show it off or give the card to her so that she didn’t feel like such a loser in love. Without thinking I rip it in half. I head back into the kitchen and open the fridge, lift out the cake. Just one little slice; tomorrow I’ll do an extra long run.

After finishing off the entire cake, I go back to bed feeling guilty I’ve eaten so much. I close my eyes, drift off to sleep, determined not to see Matthew’s face again.