Rory's Proposal (8 page)

He glances at the chocolates on the counter.

‘Oh no, it wasn’t a nice gesture like yours,’ I say quickly, not wanting to offend him. ‘Mr Rory is a scumbag. He’s putting local people out of business,’ I add hotly. ‘People like him are just money crazy.’

I stop when I realise he is smiling at me.

‘I’m a bit passionate about my salon,’ I say, blushing.

‘Yes, I can tell, your eyes go a bit wild.’

Oh no, do they? Now he will think I’m totally nuts. He knocks back the last of his lemonade and stands up.

‘Right, I’d better be getting off.’

‘Oh Tom,’ I say quickly, grabbing the petition from one of the tables. ‘Would you sign the petition? Every name helps.’

He looks unsure for a second and then takes the pen and scribbles his name. I look down at it, trying to discern his name but it’s barely legible.

‘Thanks so much,’ I say pushing a sticker on his shirt and liking the feel of his warm chest against my hand.

‘There, now everyone will know you support us,’ I say.

‘Great,’ he responds with a wry smile.

I look at the sticker with satisfaction.

‘Thank you so much,’ I say, aware my hand is still on his chest. ‘I hope you’ll come to our protest.’

He smiles.

‘I’m pretty busy most days.’

‘Well if you’re free. I could let you know when we have a date.’

He has a lovely voice, crystal clear but soft. He looks thoughtful and then with a wink says,

‘Do you fancy a hot chocolate?’

‘A hot chocolate?’ I repeat stupidly.

‘Heroes, in Portobello Market. Do you know it?’

I nod.

‘They do the best hot chocolate.’

I hesitate. Luke will be expecting me. He is my boyfriend after all. What’s wrong with me? The guy’s inviting me for hot chocolate, not a quickie in the back of his Audi. I’m not sure which is the most enticing. It’s no good I’ve got to get this sex thing sorted with Luke or I’ll be ripping the clothes off the nearest man and that could well be Ryan. Heavens, that really doesn’t bear thinking about does it?

‘You’ve probably got something else on,’ he says.

‘I thought you had something else on,’ I say, appraising his suit.

‘Oh this,’ he says looking down at the waistcoat. ‘I had a business meeting in town earlier.’

I bite my lip. Luke will be expecting me home. I don’t suppose a few extra minutes will matter. I’m already late because of the leaky basin anyway and he did fix my blocked pipe, so to speak. It’s the least I can to do to have a hot chocolate with him. Yes right Flora, like it’s some kind of sacrifice.

‘Won’t …’ I say and hesitate, ‘someone be expecting you?’ I finish boldly.

He shakes his head.

‘I suppose they would, if there was a someone.’

‘I’d love a hot chocolate,’ I say. ‘I’ll just get my jacket.’

I text Luke to say I’m running late. After all, he is always running late so it makes a change for it to be me for once. I grab my jacket and meet Tom by the door. It is chilly and I wrap my pashmina around my neck.

‘We can take my car,’ he says.

I attempt to get into the car as elegantly as I can. He climbs in beside me and starts the engine which I have to admit sounds much healthier than mine.

‘It’s a nice car,’ I say.

‘A car’s a car,’ he says with a shrug.

Oh really? He should have mine.

‘How is yours?’ he asks, reading my mind.

‘Sick, very sick,’ I laugh.

The car pulls away smoothly from the kerb. His hand brushes my knee as he changes gear. The multitude of emotions I am feeling just from his touch has practically knocked the breath out of me. A few minutes later he parks outside Heroes in a parking bay. I rummage in my over full handbag and produce a crumpled pass which I stick on the windscreen. My phone is flashing and I push it underneath my make-up bag.

‘Great,’ he says, climbing from the car. He opens the door before I have time to grasp the handle. He takes my hand and I feel that familiar jolt. It is warm in the coffee shop and I feel my face grow hot. Tom helps me out of my jacket and leads me to a table at the back. The smell of coffee and warm waffles seduces me. The milkshake blender drowns out the music from the juke box. I love Heroes but Luke refuses to come here, saying it is a heart attack waiting to happen. Tom looks up from the menu as the waitress approaches.

‘Two Belgian hot chocolates,’ he says.

‘With cream and marshmallows?’ asks the waitress. God, is she fluttering her eyelashes?

‘Do you have soya milk?’ I ask.

‘Seriously?’ says Tom. ‘You’ll be murdering it.’

He’s quite right of course.

‘Okay, can I have my marshmallows on the side and not on the cream?’ I ask. ‘And only the white ones please.’

Tom smiles.

‘Sure. Anything else?’ she asks.

I shake my head. She walks away and I look shyly at Tom. He looks so sexy in his shirt and tie.

‘So, why aren’t you selling to Rory’s? I imagine they made you a good offer. It’s a good location for a supermarket,’ he says leaning back in his chair. ‘What made you change your mind?’

What makes him think I changed my mind? Do I look the indecisive type?

‘Because it’s all I have,’ I say simply. ‘Luke, that’s my boyfriend, is very successful and the salon is my success …’ I break off realising I have never shared this before, not even with Devon. ‘Luke doesn’t see it as a success. If I sell the salon I’ve proved him right and I would have failed at the one thing I can do,’ I finish.

I’m relieved the hot chocolate arrives and I can hide my red face behind the mug. I pop a marshmallow into my mouth and savour it.

‘What does he do, this Luke?’

‘He’s a solicitor,’ I say proudly. ‘He’s very successful. He’s going to Dublin next week for a golf tournament. He’s playing, he’s very good.’

‘Ah, yes, I remember now. Maybe I’ll see him in Dublin,’ he says casually.

‘You’re going to Dublin too?’ I say widening my eyes.

That’s about right. I suppose Devon will say she and Mark are going to Dublin next. You know, to celebrate the engagement. I’ll be the only one not going I suppose. Typical.

‘My father is also in the tournament,’ he smiles.

There is silence as we drink our chocolate.

‘Owning your own business is being successful,’ he says suddenly, looking up at me. ‘You could make another salon just as successful, maybe even more so. I think they would help with the relocation’.

I scoff.

‘Do you know where they’re offering to relocate me? In the East End of London, I mean, can you imagine?’ I say hotly, pushing loose strands of hair back into my messy bun. ‘Besides it’s ridiculous, that Rory guy is money mad. I hope he pops his clogs before he gets the salon.’

He widens his eyes.

‘That’s a bit harsh,’ he says, his handsome face creasing into a grin.

‘Well he’s ancient apparently.’

‘Right.’

‘Jethro was all up to give Mr Rory a chin check or to go around with a banger.’

‘That’s an old car is it?’ he laughs.

‘I’ve no idea. I was too scared to ask. But I can understand he’s upset for Sandy. She hoped to one day buy the video rental shop. Open a beauty salon. We were going to work together,’ I say miserably, feeling for Sandy and knowing how it feels to have a dream.

He nods and gestures
to the waitress.

‘Do you have those wonderful Bakewell tarts?’

‘We have just the one,’ she smiles. ‘I was saving it for you.’

‘You’re my girl,’ he says winking at her. ‘Would you like something?’ he asks, turning to me.

I shake my head and stir the cream into my chocolate.

‘It’s not failing at all if you sell your salon. Is that what your boyfriend Luke tells you?’

‘Luke’s very supportive,’ I say.

Yeah right, if only.

‘We’re going to fight,’ I say.

‘We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds,’ he says, laughing.

‘We shall fight in fields and in the streets,’ I say.

‘Inside and outside of the salon,’ he adds.

‘And along Portobello Road,’ I say with a giggle.

‘In front of the basins and under the dryers, we shall fight with combs and pliers.’

‘Pliers?’ I say.

‘It rhymes,’ he laughs.

I carefully put my mug down so as not to spill it. I find myself thinking how it has been a long time since I laughed with Luke. Don’t think about it, don’t think about it.

‘Do you think I shouldn’t fight?’ I ask.

‘It’s a lot of energy, especially if they’re offering another salon. Look Flo, I came to the …’

He stops as the waitress approaches with his Bakewell tart.

‘You want to share?’ he asks.

Oh God, I really shouldn’t, but then again I have lapsed so badly since hearing of Devon’s engagement that I guess one more won’t hurt.

‘Get your energy up for your fight.’

‘You’re a bad influence,’ I say.

He places half on my saucer.

‘The thing is Flo …’ he begins.

My mobile trills and I give an apologetic look.

‘It’s probably Luke, wondering where I am.’

I pull it from my bag and answer the call.

‘I had a flood at the salon, so I’m running late,’ I tell Luke.

‘Again? You need to get that fixed properly. I’m also running late. I’m on my way home now. I’ll get two carrot and chickpea salads from Healthy Juice. I’ll see you in a bit.’

Great, just what I fancied,
not.
I wait for him to say I love you but he doesn’t. He never does unless I say it first. I’m not going to say it in front of Tom am I? I’d then need to say I love you too so Tom thinks Luke did say I love you but seeing as Luke never said I love you in the first place, it will seem odd saying I love you too,
and then Luke is bound to think I’m being funny. My head is spinning. All I know is I really shouldn’t be having hot chocolate with Tom.

‘I have to go,’ I say
rummaging in my bag for my purse.

‘How much was it?’ I ask the waitress.

‘No, it’s on me. Flo, about Rory’s …’

‘It’s kind of you to advise me but I really have to go.’

He bites his lip.

‘I was just going to say, why don’t you tell them what you want, name your price, or ask for a salon in a nice area? I think, from what I’ve heard, Mr Rory is not so bad and …’

I scoff.

‘Even you believe the propaganda,’ I say, fanning out my pashmina and wrapping it around my shoulders.

‘I’m a business man Flo. Some things make good business sense.’

‘Well it doesn’t make good business sense for me to throw in the towel on the one thing I’ve started to make a success of. Luke won’t want to marry a failure and I really want to marry Luke.’

‘I can’t think why, if he makes you feel so bad,’ he says scathingly.

I stare at him.

‘How dare you, you don’t even know Luke. Thank you for the chocolates, and the hot chocolate but I must go now.’

Before he has time to speak I am out in the street hailing a cab. How dare he say that about Luke? I feel like crying but the truth is he is right. I don’t think I’m good enough for Luke, and Luke makes me feel that way with his dismissive attitude towards the salon. I know he loves me, I just know he does, but why doesn’t he ask me to marry him? No, don’t think about it, don’t think about it but how can I not think about it?

‘I can give you a lift Flo,’ Tom calls from the doorway.

I decline his offer.
Good business sense
my arse. I’ll show Rory’s. It’s not until I’m halfway home that I realise Tom knew my full name. A little tingle of pleasure runs through me. Why would he go to all that trouble if he didn’t like me? I quickly dismiss the idea as stupid. Someone as successful as Tom wouldn’t give me a second glance would he?

Tom, one hour earlier.

I
drive slowly towards Portobello Road, checking the directions Grant had given me. I remember Grant’s words and repeat
Flora
in my head a few times. A dotty spinster. I can’t understand why Grant is making such a big deal over this. She should jump at the chance to get well over the market value for her little salon. It shouldn’t take long to sweeten her up. Grant must be losing his touch, everyone has their price and Flora Robson would have hers. She’s smart though, I’ll give her that. Pulling out at the last minute, and after the two shops either side have signed. She’s got us over a barrel and she knows it, but it will all be down to money at the end of the day.
I go over the agenda for tomorrow’s
board meeting
and by the time I turn the corner into Church Lane I’m singing along to James Blunt. I grab the chocolates and tap on the door.
I try the handle and the door swings open, a little bell announcing my arrival. She turns at the sound and I recognise her immediately. It’s Flo, the girl who reversed into me. Flo, Flora, this has to be a joke. She turns to look at me. Her warm brown eyes sparkle with recognition. Her mouth turns up at the edges and she smiles. Her face is open and expressive, the kind that you can read like a book. I was not expecting this. She is wearing leggings that show off her slim legs and sexy backside and I make a conscious effort to make eye contact. Her dark hair is tied back and she runs her hands over the back of her neck.

‘Oh,’ she says.

‘You’re Flora Robson,’ I say and could kick myself.

She smiles.

‘Yes, the one and only infamous Flora Robson.’

Her leggings are wet and she looks harassed. I smile back and glance around her salon. It’s nicer than I imagined it would be. I could kill Grant for giving me the impression she was some old spinster. Still, on reflection, I suppose I should have realised she wasn’t, else why would he want to take her to dinner? I feel a pang of irritation at the thought of Grant coming on to her.

‘This is your salon?’ I say.

She nods proudly.

‘Right,’ I say and it is then I spot the water behind her. She’s got a leak. This is good. I if I can help her out she will think I have her interests at heart. Best to help first and talk later.

‘Looks like you’ve got a bit of a problem,’ I say, pointing to the wet floor.

‘Oh yes, the basin, it’s blocked. It does this on and off. I need new pipes or new basins, one or the other. It’s just there is never enough time or more importantly never enough money and …’ she trails off and looks embarrassed.

Perhaps best not to say who I am until I have helped her with the flood. I follow her into the salon, the smell of her perfume enticing me in. She turns and fiddles with her hair nervously. Her eyes lower to the box of chocolates under my arm. Damn I’d forgotten all about them.

‘They’re big,’ she says and blushes like a schoolgirl. ‘I’m sorry, it’s just I thought the chocolates that Rory’s tried to bribe me with were big,’ she adds. ‘A bit of an insult to my intelligence really, thinking just because I am a woman I can be bribed with chocolate.’

I can’t really hand her the chocolates now can I and say, ‘Hi I’m Thomas Rory and I’m here to insult your intelligence by bribing you with chocolate.’ I’ll be bashed over the head with the mop, no doubt. I sigh. The stupid thing is I don’t want to tell her. I like the way she looks at me and I feel quite certain Thomas Rory would not get that look. How the hell do I explain the chocolates? The box is ridiculously huge. I feel a right plonker holding them.

‘Yes, I nearly forgot. It’s an apology … for the car accident. You said you had a sweet tooth,’ I say smiling at her.

‘Wow, thank you,’ she says lifting the lid and looking longingly at the chocolates.

‘Let me help with the blocked basin.’

She hands me the wrench.

‘It’s all I’ve got to offer I’m afraid,’ she says apologetically.

Well that wrench is pretty useless. No wonder she didn’t get anywhere with that. I grin at her. She is so appealing that the temptation to tease her is overwhelming.

‘Oh, I think you’ve got a lot more to offer. I’ll get my toolbox from the car,’ I say and am rewarded with another blush. I’m sounding more like a plumber by the minute.

‘Right, she says. ‘Just give me a shout when you’re back. I need to get my leggings off …’

She blushes again and looks delightful.

‘What I mean is …’

I smile and walk out to my car. What am I doing? I’ve got to tell her. This is ridiculous. I’ve got to say something positive at the board meeting tomorrow. We need to get moving on this site and the board are expecting some news. I’ll fix the leak and then introduce myself properly. I’ll make the offer. Tell her she can keep the chocolates. If the offer isn’t enough I’ll ask her to name her price and that will be it. I undo the pipes and clear out the muck. She comes back into the salon wearing new leggings.

‘Would you like a coffee or something else?’ she asks, blushing for the umpteenth time.

‘What is the something else?’ I ask teasing her again.

‘I have some lemonade in the fridge,’ she says shyly.

‘That sounds good and one of those cupcakes would be nice,’ I say.

She smiles and I feel captivated by her as I watch her take the lemonade from the fridge.

‘Great, thanks. This is unblocked. Do you have a mop or something?’ I ask, wondering if now is a good time to tell her. I glance at the cupcake and lemonade and feel my mouth water.

‘Looks good,’ I say. I want to add
and so do you
, but of course I don’t. I don’t seem to be saying half of what I should be.

I feel I am digging myself into a hole. How can I now say
I’m Thomas Rory and I’m here to talk you into selling the salon?
As it is the chocolates must seem a bit excessive for a car accident that was, after all, her fault.

‘Thank you so much, you’re a good plumber,’ she says.

Blimey, she’s easy to please. Surely her boyfriend can unblock a sink.

‘Not really,’ I smile. ‘Anyone can unblock a sink.’

‘What do you do?’

Right, this is the time to tell her. I really should. What’s the worst that can happen? She’ll wallop me with the mop? She seems controlled. Yes, well, all women seem controlled don’t they? Until you upset them and then all hell breaks loose. But if I tell her now, she’ll think I am either a fraud or an idiot, and either way that does not put me in a good position to start negotiations.

‘I’m a director of a company,’ I say. ‘It’s a family business.’

At least that’s the truth. If only I could get past this stupid stumbling block and tell her who I am. If only she weren’t so damn appealing and nice, because basically, that’s what she is, just plain nice.

‘Sounds grand,’ she says.

‘I heard somewhere that this parade of shops had been sold,’ I say casually, pulling out a chair.

‘No, we’re not selling. Everyone else can but not us. I’m having a rally to show Rory’s that we won’t be bought. Sodding Rory’s can go and …’ she says passionately.

I raise my eyebrows. Perhaps now is not the right time. I sip the lemonade. She obviously has me down as one big scumbag.

‘He wants to buy the salon to build a supermarket would you believe. Well, not while my name is Flora Robson. It’s about time someone stopped these people. There are plenty of supermarkets. We don’t need another one. I’ve started a petition. I can’t believe they tried to bribe me with perfume and chocolates.’

Oh dear. I glance sideways at the chocolates on the counter, she follows my eyes.

‘Oh no, it wasn’t a nice gesture like yours,’ she says quickly, seeing me look at the chocolates. ‘Rory’s are scumbags. He’s putting local people out of business,’ she adds, her face turning red with emotion.

She sure hates me. I finish the cupcake and consider asking for another but change my mind.

‘People like Rory’s are just money crazy.’

Money crazy? No one has ever called me that before. I smile.

‘I’m a bit passionate about my salon,’ she says.

Yes, and you look beautiful when you are, I want to say.

‘Yes, I can tell, your eyes go a bit wild,’ I say instead. There is something captivating about her. For a moment I forget who I am and why I am here, and sit looking at her, and then I remember. I’ve made a right pig’s ear of this meeting and feel a bit of a fool. I stand up abruptly.

‘Right, I’d better be getting off,’ I say more sharply than I mean to.

I need to suss her out a bit more. Find out what her dreams are, apart from owning a salon that is. Obviously chocolates aren’t going to do much for her. Grant will have to visit in future. She looks uncomfortable and then says,

‘Oh Tom, would you sign the petition? Every name helps.’

I look down at the petition.
Say NO to Rory’s and Save our Small Businesses.
She wants me to sign a petition against myself. This is just getting worse by the second. I pick up the pen and quickly scribble my name making it as illegible as I can. If Grant hears about this I’ll never live it down.

‘Thanks so much,’ she says, pushing a sticker onto my shirt, her hand warm against my chest.

‘There, now everyone will know you support us,’ she says cheerfully.

Wonderful, it couldn’t get any worse. I’m petitioning against myself and wearing a sticker to prove it.

‘Great,’ I respond.

‘Thank you so much. I hope you’ll come to our protest.’

And get lynched, I don’t think so.

‘I’m pretty busy most days.’

‘Well, if you’re free. I could let you know when we have a date.’

She removes her hand from my chest and it is then that I realise I don’t want to part from her just yet. I can’t leave the business unfinished. I have to tell her who I am.

‘Do you fancy a hot chocolate?’ I ask.

It is after some deliberation that she agrees. Thirty minutes later and I still haven’t told her. What the hell happened? I’d set off with the chocolates determined to wrap the whole thing up with this Flora woman. I had the offer ready and everything, it should have gone as smooth as silk. Instead, I’m back in the car, minus a box of chocolates and a signature on a contract. I was close until she mentioned all the stuff about not being successful enough to be with her solicitor boyfriend. I sigh. The last thing I need is complications with a woman, and especially this woman. Grant might have warned me. She was far from the image of a batty spinster that Grant had painted. Worst of all, I could tell the attraction was mutual. I’ll have to avoid her that’s all. I’ll get Brent to go round in a few days. Try to talk her round before the protest. Hopefully she’ll have her price. We’ll pay her off and she’ll move on. I put the car into gear and start wondering what the hell I am going to tell Grant when I get back.