Still Thinking of You (35 page)

57. Rich and Jayne Share a Bloody Mary

Jayne did want to find Rich.

‘Babe, I’ve been looking everywhere for you,’ she beamed from the doorway. She rushed towards him, pulling off her beanie and letting her hair tumble free, creating the same sensation as a huge wave creates in a surfer’s heart. Rich noticed the previously impassive bartender adjust his expression into one of admiration. Before Jayne had walked in the bar, the bartender had probably pitied Rich, if he thought anything about him at all. Now he admired Rich because this honey called him ‘babe’.

Rich wanted to shrink.

‘Is that a Virgin or a Bloody Mary?’ she asked, sniffing his glass. ‘A Bloody, you bad boy, I’ll have one, too.’ Jayne giggled, then sat down on the bar stool next to Rich’s. He felt overwhelmed by her presence. She shuffled closer and slipped her legs on to the rung on his stool, somehow intertwining her legs with his, as though she were a vine. Jayne ruffled his hair and gave him a peck on the lips.

‘Don’t take this the wrong way, babe, but you look terrible.’ Jayne enjoyed this gentle teasing. It was how boyfriends and girlfriends behaved with one another; they touched and teased with ease. She’d longed for this intimacy.

Rich climbed off his stool and moved it further away from her, then climbed back on it again. He felt a little ridiculous doing so, particularly when he caught the bartender’s eye, who, from the look on his face, clearly thought any sane man should be moving towards Jayne and not away from her. Rich was embarrassed to be fortifying the French stereotype of the English as repressed and cold, but he didn’t feel he had a choice.

‘Jayne, about last night.’

‘Wasn’t it wonderful? I had the best time. You did, too, didn’t you? Of course, you did.’

‘Well, yes, it was a laugh, but –’

‘I respect that you couldn’t, you know,’ Jayne leant into Rich and whispered, ‘fuck me, until after you finished everything with Tash. It is best to keep things clean.’

‘About that…’ Rich had the words in his head, all he had to do was say them. That couldn’t be too hard, could it? All he had to say was, ‘I’m not going to finish with Tash.’ But it was the way she said ‘fuck’, it threw him. Not that he wanted to, but somehow she pronounced it as though he wanted to. It was confusing.

‘Have you told her? What did she say? I don’t imagine she took it that well, poor girl.’ Jayne had absolutely no sympathy for Tash, not an iota, but she realized confessing as much would make her look callous.

‘No. I haven’t told her –’

‘Well, you must get on with it. Now would be a good time. What with all this fuss about my brother and Kate, Tash will be able to lick her wounds relatively privately. Did you buy her a flexible plane ticket? Because she’ll want to go home. But we should stay. We could take a sleigh ride tonight. I imagine that will be awfully romantic.’

‘It is,’ stuttered Rich.

He had to stop this. He felt as though he was on that carousel near the kids’ ski school. He was on a beautiful, colourful but entirely false ride, and he was going around and around, but not getting anywhere. He felt dizzy. Stop the world, he wanted to get off. All he had to do was tell her, spell it out. Why couldn’t he find the words?

In the past, situations such as this had always been much easier to handle. Women generally had more pride and intuition than Jayne had. Rich – like many, many men – would rather walk over hot coals and eat cold lard than actually finish with a girl. He employed a host of cowardly techniques to drop hints if his ardour was cooling. He’d fail to return calls, he’d turn up to dates late or leave early. He’d use the wrong name in bed. In his experience, women who sensed that Rich was about to give them the big heave-ho invariably scrambled to pip him to the post. If they really didn’t take a hint, he could always just disappear. Not call at all. Not turn up at all. But there wasn’t much chance of ignoring Jayne when they were holed up in the same hotel. For the first time in his life Rich wished he had a bit more experience at being mature about break-ups. He wished he knew a sensitive and sincere, but, most importantly of all, a
final
way of drawing a line under events with Jayne.

He wondered what Tash would do in a situation like this. It was a difficult leap of imagination. He couldn’t envisage emotionally mature and perpetually honest Tash landing herself in a similar scenario. But if by some unlikely twist of events she had, Rich knew that Tash would be handling things better than he currently was. Not that he was handling anything at all. He was mute. Mute seemed to be his latest physical manifestation of burying his head in the sand. He wished he could ask Tash’s advice. He needed her.

Jayne leant across the distance he’d placed between them and draped her arms around his neck. She gazed into his eyes, or, at least, would have done so, if he hadn’t been resolutely staring at his boots.

‘What do you want to do today? Should we board? Or would you like to hole up here and just stay cosy?’

Rich knew that the most difficult moment of his adult life had arrived. Far harder than proposing to Tash – that had been so natural, a doddle. Far harder than pitching for hundreds of thousands of pounds’ worth of business and far harder than consoling Ted this morning. But he had to reach out. And up. He had no choice. He had to become the man that Tash thought he was. He had to be honest. And, as he heard himself tell Jayne that he didn’t love her, never had, that he was sorry that he’d mistreated and misled her – and he could now see he had done just that – as he heard her scream that she would tell Tash everything, destroy their relationship, and even as he heard her sob that she’d see to it that he’d never, ever be happy, he knew that he had done the right thing.

The bell on the bar door merrily tinkled, a taunting contrast, as Jayne angrily slammed the door behind her. Rich watched as she ran away, yelling obscenities and truths back at him. If Jayne went directly to the hotel and Tash was there, he calculated that he had about ten more minutes to live life as a man that was lucky enough to marry Tash Richardson. It was cruel that, by finally being as honest as Tash wanted him to be, he had lost her. Because he had surely lost her. Not even lost, but thrown her away. He’d held in his hands this amazing, enchanting, fabulous woman, but he hadn’t taken care. Rich wanted to cry, but he didn’t think he deserved any pity. Not even self-pity.

58. Rich and Tash Share a Bloody Mary

Jayne left the bar and turned right. There wasn’t much to the right of the bar, a couple of souvenir shops and a pharmacist; it was the pharmacist that she was hunting. Her head pounded. The pain was excruciating.

Tash approached the bar from the left, missing Jayne by a matter of seconds. Rich was often luckier than he deserved to be. Tash spotted Rich sitting at the bar staring aimlessly out the window; she waved cheerfully. It was all he could do to wiggle his fingers in response. His arms felt like lead weights superglued to the bar top. Not here. Oh God, no, not a public showdown here in the bar, in front of the bartender who made good Bloody Marys. He’d watched Jayne turn right. What if she spotted them as she passed again? She was bound to look in at him. That was her style – a final, lingering look. And then she’d see him with Tash, and his life would be effectively over. Rich thought he might explode with tension.

‘Babe, I’ve been searching high and low for you,’ Tash beamed from the doorway. She rushed towards him, tugging off the scarf which she had wrapped around her neck, chin and mouth to reveal a 100-watt smile of which Cameron Diaz wouldn’t be ashamed. Rich felt his world grind to a halt. That smile, her smile, how would he manage without it? He’d become used to it. No, more than that, he’d become dependent on it. He needed it to get up in the morning – and he didn’t just mean to get it up in the morning.

‘Is that a Virgin or a Bloody Mary?’ Tash asked, sniffing his glass. ‘A Bloody. Fantastic, I need one, too.’

The irony wasn’t lost on Rich, and it was positively enjoyed by the bartender, who carefully poured Tash a Bloody Mary and at the same time caught Rich’s eye. Having jumped to a conclusion – the right one, as it happened – the bartender was clearly amused. Well, great, that someone was having a laugh.

‘It’s on the house,’ he smiled. He figured that he was going to get a certain amount of entertainment in return for the drink.

‘Oh, thanks,’ beamed Tash. ‘Why are you scowling, Rich?’ she whispered, noticing that Rich was glaring at the barman.

‘Nothing. Er, I was just worrying about Ted and Kate,’ he lied.

Tash’s beam disappeared. ‘It’s awful, isn’t it? I feel terrible for them. I went to see Kate –’

‘Did you?’ That was so typical of Tash, rushing around trying to help. The only mention of Ted’s misfortune that Jayne had made was in passing, on how the situation could be used to her advantage. Her own brother.

‘Yes, Kate’s amazing, Rich. You were right about her. She is a wonderful person. That’s why I was keen to find you. I wanted to say I am so sorry if I wasn’t as warm with your friends as you’d have liked. These things take time, don’t they? But I should have thrown myself into it with more zeal.’ Tash looked at Rich with a face as open and honest as a child’s. ‘I think I was a bit narky because your friends sort of hijacked the wedding trip, but I see now, it’s like you always said, their company makes it a better wedding. More, I think I was a bit jealous because your friends were actually here and mine weren’t. After all, whatever I think, or thought, about any of them, they all love you enough to want to celebrate with you. None of this is your fault, so it doesn’t make sense that I took it out on you, but, then, emotions don’t always make sense, do they?’ She gushed on, ‘Kate is an astounding person. I felt humbled in the face of her calm and loyalty today. And the other thing I wanted to say was I am so sorry about… Rich, are you listening?’

‘Duck.’

‘What?’

‘Duck, it’s Jayne.’ Rich pulled Tash off her stool and crouched on the floor. Tash complied, but started to giggle.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked, understandably confused.

‘I don’t want her to see us.’ That much, at least, was true.

‘Why?’

Rich looked into Tash’s large, blue, searching eyes. Eyes that trusted him, eyes that radiated love, amusement and, at this particular point in time, just a little bit of bewilderment. He could tell her now. Here, this moment. Why not? So they were crouched underneath a bar with the smell of pine disinfectant drifting up from the floorboards, just masking the smell of beer and wine; it was as fitting a place as anywhere else.

Rich put his hands on either side of Tash’s head. He automatically rotated his thumbs to massage her temples. She naturally surrendered to his stroke, leaning her forehead into his so that they were touching.

‘I love that,’ Tash said.

‘What?’

‘The way you massage my head.’

‘I wasn’t aware that I was massaging your head.’

‘No, I know. You just touch me in the way I want to be touched. You just seem to know.’ She paused, and then they both spoke at once.

‘Rich, I wanted to say–’

‘Tash, there’s something I need to talk to you about.’

‘You first,’ they chorused.

Tash took the initiative. ‘I just wanted to say I am so sorry for giving you such a hard time about Mia. I got it all muddled. For a while there, I thought… Oh, well, it hardly matters what I thought, but I was wrong not to trust you and to trust your judgement.’

Saying sorry was easy for Tash. She didn’t really understand why people did make such hard work of it. Saying ‘I love you’ was easy, as was asking for a pay rise, explaining to a shop assistant exactly why you were returning faulty goods and talking her way out of a parking fine. Tash could always find the right words. Communication was her forte.

‘You were right about Kate’s qualities, and that suggests that you probably know what you are talking about with Mia, too.’

Oh, God, she hoped so. It would be perfect if they could all just get along. If they could love Rich, like each other, have a laugh. Life would be cool.

‘I’m going to be different from now on in. I’m going to try to see things more from her point of view.’ Tash just wanted everything to be OK again, like it was when they were back home, curled up under the duvet or riding their bikes through Richmond Park or watching movies. They did so many nice things together. And it could be all OK again, she knew it could be. ‘And the other thing I wanted to say is that I am so sorry we rowed last night.’ Oh, God, she was, she was.

And he was, so, so sorry. Because look where the row had led. Rich also wanted everything to be OK again, but, with the benefit of an intimate acquaintance with all the facts about their situation, he wasn’t as hopeful. How could it all be OK again?

‘This awful business with Ted and Kate puts things back in proportion. I love you. You love me. That’s all that matters. Agreed?’

‘Agreed,’ smiled Rich. ‘I do love you, Tash.’ Rich leant in and kissed her.

He held her tightly and kissed her hard. All ideas of confessing or explaining dripped away. She was right. All that mattered was that they loved one another. They could go back to being chilled and thrilled with one another the moment they were out of here, as soon as everything was back to normal. Jayne was not important. Only Jayne thought she was. They sat hunched under the bar and kissed until their jeans felt uncomfortably tight at the back of their knees, until the bartender coughed and until Jayne was well out of sight.

‘What were you going to say?’ asked Tash, standing up and flexing her legs. ‘Before I made my big speech.’

‘Nothing, er, well, the same as you. I was going to say that I love you and you love me, and that’s all that matters.’

Rich paid the bill, but avoided the bartender’s gaze. He no more wanted to face the bartender’s knowing smirks than his own conscience.

59. Jase and Mia Have Dinner

‘You all alone, Checkers? Where is everyone?’ Mia asked Lloyd.

It was 8.30 p.m. Mia and Jason had spent the best day in the snow yet. They had skied until 5 p.m. when the lifts closed and then they had, through a silent tactical agreement, headed straight to a bar for a little après-ski action. It didn’t occur to either of them to go and get changed into dry clothes or to invite anyone else along. They were having such a marvellous time that they just wanted it to go on and on. Mia ordered a G & T.

‘What about your detox?’ Scaley Jase asked.

‘What?’ Mia had momentarily forgotten the excuse she’d made up to explain her abstinence. ‘Oh, yes,’ she said, suddenly remembering. ‘I’m giving up on that.’

And she was. Sod it. The fresh air had cleared her head. She could see her plan for what it was – improbable at best, farcical at worst.

It was very unlikely that Mia would ever get Scaley into bed. In fact it was inconceivable, thought Mia, laughing at her own pun. In the queue of ‘women-likely-to-get-into-bed-with-Jason-Clarke’, she stood behind every other woman in the resort. Every other woman seemed to be able to attract and secure Scaley’s attention with ease. He simply didn’t see Mia in that way. She’d done her best to be witty, attractive and available for the entire week, and yet Scaley insisted on sleeping with girls who were not as witty and not as attractive (although she admitted Kiki probably had her beaten on the available stakes). Last night had been soul-destroying. She’d played all her best cards. While they had had a fabulous day together, joking, playing, chatting and skiing, it was clear that he saw her as a cross between his primary school teacher and his big sister. It was undignified. Mia had had enough.

Besides, even if she were to get him into bed, she’d calculated that her chances of conceiving were pretty slim. She was kidding herself that one attempt would be enough. She was thirty-four, for God’s sake. She knew the scary statistics about fertility nosediving with every candle she blew out. Mother Nature was a tyrant. It seemed to Mia that she’d spent all her twenties avoiding getting pregnant – and in those days it had seemed a genuine possibility at every turn – and now the opposite was true.

But, then, maybe it wasn’t Mother Nature who had flawed planning.

Anyway, Mia reasoned, even if the first miracle did occur and Scaley somehow suddenly saw her as a bedmate, instead of a big mate, for approximately twenty minutes (that would do, wouldn’t it?),
and
if, by some fluke, the second miracle occurred and somehow she got lucky after just one attempt, she figured she’d have a pretty determined fetus on her hands. Not the type of fetus to be in the least bit concerned about a couple of glasses of G & T.

‘Make mine a double, Scaley.’

They’d had a great day. They had swooped and swerved down mountains and through trees. They had glided and fallen with good humour and no style. They had chatted about, well, something, although neither could remember exactly what now. Both recalled that there hadn’t been a single uncomfortable silence. They had felt a little naughty, absconding from the group and breaking away on their own, but they had both enjoyed breaking the rules – just a little bit.

They’d spent the day unthinkingly re-creating the intimacy and exclusivity that had always been so abundant in the past. They’d had fun. And neither of them had wanted the fun to stop. It was only the fact that they both felt duty-bound to join the gang for dinner that brought them back to the hotel. They comforted themselves with the thought that the food was excellent. When they arrived back at des Dromonts, Lloyd was sitting alone in the bar, nursing a whisky.

‘So, what’s with the ghost town?’ asked Jason.

‘Dunno where Jayne is,’ Lloyd slurred, betraying that this wasn’t his first whisky of the evening. ‘I haven’t seen her all day. Tash and Rich went boarding together. Decided to go to Switzerland and had this madcap idea to stay in another hotel tonight. No idea why. This one is fantastic, and they’ll still have to pay for it.’ Mia and Jason exchanged looks.

‘Maybe they just wanted some time alone,’ said Jason.

‘More likely that Rich is avoiding a certain someone,’ said Mia sotto voce. Jason nudged her, indicating it was wisest that she kept her thoughts to herself. He turned his attention back to Lloyd.

‘I feel lousy, mate, really sorry. You should have come out with us, rather than stay here on your own all day,’ said Jase as he threw himself on to the comfy, cushioned seat next to Lloyd. He said this with the full knowledge that his generous invitation was impossible to exploit after the event.

‘No matter, old man, gave me time to think.’ Lloyd forcefully prodded his skull with his forefinger.

‘Oh, yeah, about what?’

Lloyd put his finger to his lips. ‘It’s a secret, at the moment. But I’ll let you in on it as soon as I can.’

‘Goodo,’ smiled Jase with total indifference. ‘Want another drink?’

He never had any curiosity to hear anything someone didn’t want to tell him. Mia was the opposite and considered pushing Lloyd for more info. On the other hand, she really wanted to change out of her snow gear and put on something suitable for dinner. She excused herself and left Scaley and Lloyd to their drinks.

Mia bounced up the stairs to her room, well, metaphorically at least. Other than on the slopes, it was very difficult to move with real animation in ski boots. She dashed into her room and checked her reflection.

Yes! She’d thought so. She looked amazing. Obviously the fresh air agreed with her. It was only yesterday that she’d read in one of Tash’s magazines that the air in the mountains was excellent for the skin, something to do with oxygen levels. She didn’t like admitting that she’d read one of those terrible mags, let alone that she’d found an interesting article. It was just that she’d been hanging around the foyer waiting for the others and she’d seen it poking out from behind a cushion, carelessly abandoned she imagined, and, well, she’d just picked it up through idle curiosity. But then she’d found she couldn’t put it down. She had to confess that the next half an hour had flown by and the articles weren’t as imbecilic as she’d imagined. Two or three had actually been quite interesting and fairly well written. For example, the article about natural ways to make your skin glow had recommended a number of expensive creams, mountain air or falling in love as the best boosters. She hadn’t had the opportunity to buy the creams yet, so it had to be the mountain air.

Mia quickly jumped in the shower and, although she was in a hurry, she hunted for her DKNY body wash. It smelt fantastic, and she always used it on special occasions. Not that having dinner with the gang was particularly unique, but today did feel like a distinctive and exciting occurrence. She dressed at great speed, not sure, or at least not prepared to recognize, what or whom she was hurrying for.

Scaley Jase.

His name popped into her head as she lathered her body with silky bubbles. Then again as she pulled up her cotton briefs, and again as she snapped on her bra. They’d had a fantastic day. Such fun from start to –

Mia didn’t want it to finish.

That had to be the G & T, didn’t it? They’d gone straight to her head. She’d been off alcohol for a couple of weeks and suddenly she was Lady Lightweight. Well, Jase would be pleased, she was a cheap date. Not that she was his date. It was just a saying. If they did spend the evening together, as friends, he’d be pleased to see her so
relaxed
on a couple of G & Ts. Maybe she shouldn’t have had doubles, but she did feel deliciously light-headed.

Wasn’t it just the way? Her whole purpose for being on this trip was to conceive a child with Scaley, but from the moment they’d met in Heathrow her plan had seemed doomed. Typical, then, that now she had accepted that it wasn’t going to happen, all the problems that had stood in the way had suddenly disintegrated.

When Mia had been actively trying to seduce Scaley, she had struggled to secure time together alone. If they ever did have any time together alone, she was always struggling for conversation that was even remotely interesting, let alone sultry or flirty. But now she had acknowledged that the idea was more of a pipe dream than plan, she had suddenly become funny, dirty, happy and suggestive by turn. All week she had constantly analysed Scaley’s every move against criteria that she had drawn up to assess the suitability of his sperm and genes. Invariably he’d failed to meet her exacting standards. She hadn’t liked the fact that he drank so much (that would damage his fertility and virility). She hadn’t liked his legs, as she suddenly noticed that they were a little short in comparison to the rest of his body (would the baby inherit that?). She hadn’t liked the company he kept – the girls were silly and cheap (she wasn’t sure why she objected to the company, but she did).

However, now that Mia had established that Scaley’s service as unwitting sperm donor was no longer required, she suddenly saw things in a new light. Scaley wasn’t really drinking that much at all. He’d only had one beer today, and his legs weren’t especially short. In fact, he had a great swagger which some women might even find attractive. She still objected to the company he kept, although he hadn’t been quite so obvious when leering at other women today. She’d only caught him checking out T & A on two occasions.

Mia rushed around her room. She didn’t bother to consider which top would make her look most appealing, it no longer mattered, and her main concern was to return to Scaley as quickly as possible. Mia was slightly afraid that the magic spell which had made the day so relaxed and right might be broken if she stayed away too long. That could happen. In the past, Mia had been on dates which were going swimmingly when suddenly a dynamic was changed and the whole thing fell apart. It could even be a small dynamic such as moving venue or even table. Something intangible but important, and Mia didn’t want that to happen tonight.

Not
that Mia was on a date.

She was just saying it felt a bit date-like.

Mia realized that she was holding her breath.

When she returned to the foyer, Lloyd had disappeared. Apparently he’d palled up with a group of Belgian tourists at lunch time and had arranged to meet them in the pool hall to shoot some balls.

‘He’s made friends?’ Mia asked, without bothering to hide her surprise.

‘He’s a good and interesting bloke. You’ve just forgotten,’ laughed Jason. ‘So, it’s just you and me for dinner tonight. Any objection?’

For once Mia couldn’t find one.

The restaurant was busy, but not crowded. The entire clientele were guests at the hotel, so the atmosphere was friendly, almost intimate. When Mia and Jason walked in all the other guests looked up from their plates and nodded or called out greetings.

‘You look lovely, tonight, my dear,’ said one elderly lady, who had on a regular basis chatted to the group about the day’s snow and the seasoning on the salad and such. She dined with her husband, but he never said a word.

‘Thank you,’ beamed Mia, a little taken aback by receiving a compliment from a stranger.

‘You do,’ said Jason, which caused Mia to turn scarlet. Oddly, receiving a compliment from Scaley was worse. How come he told her she looked good tonight? Tonight when she wasn’t trying, hadn’t agonized over her outfit, hadn’t poured herself into scaffolding underwear. Tonight when it no longer mattered what he thought of her. Typical!

‘You make a very handsome couple,’ smiled the old dear.

‘Oh, we’re not a couple,’ objected Mia, which seemed to cause the whole restaurant to titter.

‘Why are they laughing?’ asked Mia with a hiss, as she sat down to face Jason. He was grinning, too.

‘I think it was the tone of your denial that amused them. I have to say I haven’t heard you utter anything with such passionate conviction for years.’

‘Ha, ha,’ sniped Mia. ‘I just didn’t want to give anyone the wrong idea.’ Jason chuckled, and accepted the menu from the waiter.

Mia relaxed, happy to find that she wasn’t offended, or embarrassed, or irritated, or anything bad. The magic hadn’t gone just because she’d had a shower and changed clothes. Mia sighed contentedly, selected a bottle of wine, then sat back in her chair, ready to enjoy a pleasant evening with her old friend.

They peppered the starter with conversation about work. Mia realized that, while she was always first to brag about how Scaley was ‘massive in advertising’, she had no clue what he did on a day-to-day basis. Jason was flattered that Mia had asked and surprised that she genuinely listened to his answer, although if she was impressed she didn’t say so. Being impressed wasn’t her thing. Mia talked about her work, too.

‘So what’s next for you, Mia?’

‘Well, the next step on the ladder to secure promotion would be for me to do another stint abroad. But I’m not sure I want to.’

‘Why not? I thought you’d enjoyed your time in Belgium.’

‘I did.’

‘And Hong Kong.’

‘Yes, it was fascinating.’

‘And you loved Peru.’

Mia nodded. She’d spent seven years out of the past twelve abroad. She’d seen the world and been impressed and impressive while doing so.

‘I’m so glad I had those opportunities and experiences, but I’m not sure I’m prepared to leave everything and everyone again.’

The truth was she couldn’t see how being a single mum would fit in with being a diplomat.

Jason sighed. He wasn’t exactly sure why he was relieved to hear Mia would be hanging up her travelling boots, but he was. Despite e-mail and the ease of travel, he’d missed having her close by.

Jason coughed to clear his throat, poured another glass of wine for them both and then said, ‘I meant to ask earlier, is the holiday meeting your expectations?’

Mia nearly choked on the Merlot.

Had she just heard that question correctly? Was Scaley Jase asking her something personal? Something serious?

Probably not. Probably just making small talk.

Should she tell him? Could she tell him that the sole reason she was on this holiday was to make honourable his wayward sperm and that by definition, as she hadn’t done so, the holiday had not met her expectations? Mia giggled to herself; the whole idea was preposterous. Scaley, a father? Even in the most nominal, biological sense, no way. Her wine glass was empty again; she refilled it and took another glug. The entire thing was nonsense born out of desperation.