Strictly Love (9 page)

Chapter Nine

 

‘So you're an English teacher now?’ Katie was hooting with laughter as she and Emily sat down. Isabella, dressed in a magnificent emerald-green dress dusted with silver sparkles that shimmered as she moved, was dancing with her partner Anton. They danced so fluidly together, they almost seemed to caress the floor, and it was hard to tell where one dancer ended and the other began.

The Jet Set, as Katie had decided to call them, the group of people who really knew what they were about, were dazzling their way round the room, switching from a flowing foxtrot to a thrilling tango in the blink of an eye. The women wearing floaty dresses and sparkly shoes, the men in their dark suits and polished shoes, they glided smoothly across the dance floor. Oh to dance like that, Katie thought enviously.

‘Shut up!’ Emily nudged Katie. Mark and Rob had just entered the room. ‘Don't you dare say a bloody word.’

‘Your secret's safe with me,’ laughed Katie. ‘Talk about subterfuge.’

‘Says the woman who told me to lie,’ said Emily. ‘And it's not lying exactly. It's more, I don't know, living a fantasy life that's a damn sight better than my real one. Anyway, what about you? I haven't noticed you mentioning the fact you're married with three kids.’

‘Yes, well, that's just to put off the weirdos,’ said Katie.

‘Who's a weirdo?’ Rob came up with a cheeky grin.

‘You, obviously,’ remarked Katie.

‘Cheers!’ said Rob.

‘However,’ continued Katie, ‘weird and all as you are, you are better than most of the prats I've danced with, so how about it?’

‘Ah, Katie, you say the nicest things.’

‘Well then?’

Rob looked around the room. He'd danced with most of the women on their own, more than danced with some of them. Most of them were rubbish dancers. Lots of them were rubbish in bed. Katie was a good dancer. The thought flitted into his head unbidden. What would she be like in bed? Which was ridiculous, as he didn't fancy her. Not at all.

‘Oh, okay, Thunder Thighs,’ he said, ‘till I get a better offer.’

‘Cheeky bugger,’ said Katie, punching him lightly on the shoulder.

‘Careful,’ he said, ‘I might start thinking you're flirting with me.’

‘In your dreams, pal, in your dreams.’

‘Expect the unexpected,’ said Rob with a twinkle, and Katie couldn't help laughing as he led her to the dance floor. Rob might think she had fat thighs, he might be far too full of himself, but at least he was good company. And boy, she thought, as he whisked her round the room with practised ease, boy, could he dance.

‘Shall we?’ Mark smiled at Emily. ‘I promise not to trip you up this time.’

‘That was probably as much my fault as it was yours,’ said Emily. ‘Oh god,’ she continued, watching Katie and Rob. ‘Every time I look at them, they put me to shame. I just can't imagine I'm ever going to be able to dance properly.’

‘Does that matter?’ said Mark.

‘Probably not,’ laughed Emily, a thrill going through her as he took her hand.

Her heart seemed to be beating so erratically as he led her to the dance floor, she wondered how she could still be breathing. She hoped he hadn't noticed the stealthy blush that had crept across her face, as he pulled her close to him.

‘I had a great time on Sunday,’ said Mark as he clumsily tried to lead Emily in a foxtrot. It only took a couple of turns for him to muddle his lefts and his rights. ‘Oh bugger, I've got that wrong again.’

‘I think that was me,’ said Emily, ‘I led forward with my right instead of back.’

They started again, this time Mark managing to steer them smack bang into another couple.

‘Sorry, sorry,’ he and Emily said simultaneously, and they laughed.

Mark inexpertly attempted a spin turn that Isabella had shown them. Rather than ending up with Emily wrapped against his chest facing outwards, which was the effect he was after, their arms ended up twisted in opposite directions and she found herself crushed against his chest. Which was not a bad place to be.

‘Fancy a drink afterwards?’ Mark said.

‘That would be great,’ said Emily, as casually as she could muster.

This time, when they got to the pub there were no awkward silences, just easy and carefree conversation. Emily marvelled at how easy it was to talk to Mark. It felt like they had known each other forever. Before long they were comparing their likes and dislikes.

‘Favourite film?’ Mark challenged.

‘
Some Like It Hot
,’ said Emily. ‘You?’

‘
Shaun of the Dead
,’ said Mark. ‘And most comedy on TV, but I particularly like surreal stuff like
Spaced
.’

‘Me too,’ said Emily, ‘perhaps we should go on to
Spaced
after
Green Wing
, I missed most of that one too.’

‘I'm keen on political programmes, too,’ added Mark. ‘I never miss
Question Time
if I can.’

‘I don't watch it as often as I should,’ confessed Emily.

‘What about music?’ said Mark.

‘Fairly eclectic,’ said Emily. ‘Pretty much anything but gangsta rap.’

‘I'd probably say the same,’ said Mark, ‘though I retain an adolescent fondness for heavy metal.’

‘Oh, and I am a real sucker for musicals,’ added Emily. ‘
The Sound of Music
is my favourite.’

There was a pause while they both sipped their drinks.

‘What else is there?’ asked Mark. ‘Oh, I know, we haven't done books yet.’

‘I thought you didn't like books,’ teased Emily.

‘Well, not your kind of books, perhaps,’ said Mark. ‘But I'm a big fan of John Grisham.’

‘Nothing wrong with that,’ said Emily. ‘Although I am going to make it my mission to get you into Shakespeare. I like nothing more than to curl up with a Terry Pratchett myself. But my favourite book of all time has to be
Brideshead Revisited
.’

‘Wasn't that on TV when we were kids?’ Mark asked. ‘I vaguely remember something to do with a teddy bear.’

‘That's the one,’ said Emily. ‘I studied it for A Level. My application to Oxford was entirely based on the fairytale depiction of Christ Church.’

‘Did you get in?’ asked Mark.

‘Nope,’ said Emily. ‘I think a girl from a scraggy comp in South Wales was always going to have trouble, but I was so overawed to be there I completely fluffed the interview.’

‘Do you know, I would never have guessed you're from Wales.’

‘I cover it up well,’ said Emily, feeling just a smidgeon of guilt. Since that experience at Oxford, when one of her interviewers had sneered at her accent, she'd worked hard to eradicate it. Sitting with Mark, who was clearly so unfazed by that kind of thing,
made her feel that she had betrayed her roots somehow. And it made a change to be with someone who was so lacking in pretension. Particularly after Callum, whose
raison d’être
was to be seen in the right places, by the right people, wearing the right designer labels. She sipped her drink appreciatively. Maybe for once she had found herself a someone who was worth hanging on to.

‘So when are you planning to tell her about your kids?’ Rob demanded to know when Mark came through the door, later – unusually much later – than him.

Mark was singing ‘The Hills Are Alive’ loudly and tunelessly.

‘Crikey, she must be good,’ said Rob. ‘She's achieved the impossible. For the first time since Sam, you're happy drunk rather than maudlin, you've come home later than me, and she's got you singing.’

‘She likes
The Sound of Music
,’ said Mark, falling against a wall. ‘Rob. You're so right. I needed a kick up the backside. I think I'm in love.’

‘Woah, cowboy,’ said Rob, putting the kettle on for coffee. ‘You're not meant to be in love. You're meant to be having fun. A shag. Blimey, you're hopeless.’

‘But she's gorgeous.’

‘She is a babe,’ agreed Rob. ‘Here. Drink your coffee and go to bed.’

‘Oh yesh. Quite forgot. People to hurt in the morning.’

‘So now you're in lurve,’ said Rob, ‘are you going to tell her the truth?’

‘You were the one who said I shouldn't say anything about the kids,’ protested Mark, suddenly sobering up.

‘Yes, I did. But that was before I realised what a dipstick you are, and that you would fall for her big-time. You can lie all you like to the one-nighters, but if you're in it for the long haul, you have to be straight.’

‘Rob, where do you get all this stuff from?’

‘My Year Eleven girls, mainly,’ confessed Rob. ‘So what are you going to do?’

‘Well, since Emily has made it perfectly plain to me that she hates kids, I'm not entirely sure.’

It was gone eight thirty before Mark screamed into surgery the next morning. Luckily, his first patient wasn't for a quarter of an hour. His head thumped and he was aware his eyes were bloodshot. He had swilled mouthwash – a perk of the job – round as much as possible, but he wasn't quite sure he'd covered up the smell of booze. But holy Christ, it had been years since he'd felt this good. Years and years.

He kept seeing Emily's mouth as she laughed, the way her eyes danced, her endearing habit of tucking stray strands of hair behind her ears. She was funny and sweet, and quoted poetry at him. He'd never been interested in poetry before, but when he'd been round at hers, she'd read him Shakespeare and Marvell and John Donne, and though he couldn't understand the half of it, he'd been utterly dazzled. He couldn't get enough.

‘Good night, was it?’ said Diana from behind the desk. She looked at him archly. Mark liked Diana. She was nearly old enough to be his mum, but kept up a healthy interest in his sex life – or lack of it.

‘Fine, thanks,’ said Mark.

‘Pretty, is she?’ Diana smiled, as Mark went behind the reception desk to check his day list.

‘Diana, you're a witch,’ Mark said. ‘Oh, great. I see Jasmine's coming in for her last appointment.’

‘At least it's done then,’ said Diana. ‘And you won't be seeing her for a while.’

Jasmine had been coming in intermittently to have the new crown fitted. She seemed to have got over her pique about the missing tooth enough to have withdrawn her complaint, but she was still grumpy and paranoid that someone would find out just
how rotten her teeth were. Mark would be only too glad to be shot of her.

‘True,’ said Mark. ‘And the sooner it's done, the better. By the way, where's Kerry?’

‘She called in sick,’ said Diana.

‘What, again?’ Mark frowned. That was the third time in as many weeks. ‘Do you want me to say something to her?’

‘It's okay,’ said Diana. ‘I'm on to it. I've spoken to HR, and next time she gets a verbal warning.’

It was always the same with the staff, particularly the sodding nurses, Mark thought as he went into his surgery. The good ones, the really good ones with a bit of nous and spark about them, went off to train to be hygienists so they could earn more money, which meant the surgery got left with the bottom-feeders who couldn't give a toss. Kerry had looked the ambitious sort to start with, and, frustratingly, was quite good at her job. But she was probably too busy having a good time to let a little thing like work get in the way. Thank God he had Diana to hold things together.

He went whistling into his surgery, hung up his coat and put on his lab coat and mask. There was no sign of Sasha, and nothing ready for his first patient, so Mark started to lay out the trays of instruments for himself. By the time he'd completed his third tray, Sasha had swanned in without the slightest notion that an apology might be in order.

The morning progressed reasonably smoothly, despite Mark's hangover. His good mood miraculously didn't evaporate when Jasmine came in. This time the Rottweiler had been left behind, but Twinkletoes Tone was sitting reading mags in the waiting room, looking bored.

‘Right, all done,’ said Mark, as he finally fitted the crown into place. ‘Here, let me show you in a mirror. I doubt anyone will be able to tell the difference.’

‘Ooh, you're right,’ said Jasmine. ‘Which one was it? No, let me guess. I know. It was this one.’

She pointed to a tooth in the bottom right of her jaw.

‘No,’ said Mark, showing her which tooth it really was, in the upper left of her mouth, right at the back. How stupid could she be? She would have been having kittens if it really had been a tooth so close to the front of her mouth.

‘Ooh, that's fab,’ gushed Jasmine. ‘I'd never have known.’

‘Really?’ Mark replied, although he knew that sarcasm was wasted on her.

Jasmine was so enthusiastic about his repair work, for one ghastly moment he was worried that she was going to fling her arms around him and kiss him.

‘Thanks so much,’ she twittered as she went out of the room. ‘You're the best dentist ever. I know people who go to Harley Street ‘n all, and you're way better than that.’

‘Glad to be of service,’ said Mark, waving her out of the door. Thank God that was over. With any luck he wouldn't be seeing or hearing from Jasmine for a very long time.

Chapter Ten

 

‘So,’ said Katie. ‘Go on, spill the beans. How was it?’

‘Katie, I'm at work,’ hissed Emily down the phone, as she saw Mel walking down the corridor towards her. Luckily, Mel wasn't coming her way, but took a left into one of her colleagues’ offices.

‘Oh come on,’ said Katie, ‘you can just tell me quickly. I've got to get Molly to the clinic anyway.’

Keeping a weather eye on the corridor, Emily got up to shut the door. She had a pile of correspondence to go through concerning the case of a zedlebrity who insisted that she was being stalked by a fan on the flimsiest of evidence. The poor sod who'd been thus accused just happened to have had the misfortune of living near the woman in question, and from what Emily could glean, all he'd done was ask for her autograph once and said hello another time. Honestly. These bloody people. Mark did have a point. Most of what she did was utterly shallow. Maybe it was time to start looking for another job.

‘Okay,’ said Emily, when she was settled, ‘but there's not much to tell, really. We went for a drink, held hands, flirted a bit. No, a lot actually. He walked me home. And kissed me goodbye, and that was it.’

‘That's it?’ Katie was disappointed. ‘Didn't you invite him in for a coffee?’

‘I would have, but he seemed a bit shy. I didn't want to scare him off.’

‘But you are seeing him again?’

‘Yes, on Friday. We're meeting for a drink, and then he's going to take me out to dinner.’

‘Way to go, girlfriend!’ said Katie. ‘So was it a full-on snog, or peck on the cheek?’

‘Katie, what are you like?’ Emily laughed. ‘Peck on the cheek, but that's okay. I'm happy to go slow. It makes a nice change to be courted after Callum. My instincts were entirely lust-based last time, and look what good that did me.’

‘So now you're getting on so well, when are you going to come clean about your job, then?’ asked Katie. ‘You can't keep this rubbish up about being a teacher forever.’

Emily looked around her office. It was piled high with case files on people seeking to make money for no good reason at all. She had a feeling that Mark would be appalled. And, what was more, she was becoming appalled by it too. It was as if she were looking at her world through his clear-sighted eyes, and she didn't like what she saw. This wasn't the person she had hoped to be. It certainly wasn't the person she wanted Mark to see. More than ever it seemed important to maintain the façade she'd built up.

‘You can do anything if you put your mind to it,’ said Emily. ‘Besides, what the eye doesn't see, the heart doesn't grieve over. He's made it perfectly clear he hates lawyers, and he hates the celebrity culture even more. There's no way he's ever going to find out what I do for a living. No way at all.’

Mark was grinning to himself as he left work on Friday. He'd had a rare day full of happy patients, crowns that fitted first time, teeth that came out with one swift pull and, most satisfyingly, a patient who was ecstatic to have a bridge fitted to replace the two teeth that had been knocked out by a driver in a road rage incident. He and Emily had arranged to go out on a proper date and he had finished early for once. The only fly in the ointment
was Kerry – who, after failing to turn up for several days in a row, had been summarily dismissed. She was supposed to have come in with her uniform and keys, but neither had materialised yet, so Diana had arranged for the locks to be changed. After an unfortunate incident with a nurse who had been breaking into the drugs cupboard after work and shooting herself up with Hypnovel, you couldn't be too careful.

As he made his way to the car, his mobile rang. Sam. Damn. What did she want with him now?

‘Mark, you have to get the kids.’ As usual she started with a demand. It would be so nice if just once she could ask him nicely.

‘Hi Sam, yes, I'm fine, thanks, how are you?’

‘Stressed,’ said Sam. ‘I've got caught up in a meeting and there's been a security alert at Clapham Junction so all the trains are up the spout. God knows what time I'm going to get home.’

‘Where are the girls?’ Mark glanced at his watch. Over two hours until he saw Emily. He could still pick up the girls and get them home without her knowing.

Sam was constantly doing this to him. Not that he minded. It meant he got extra time with the girls. He still couldn't get used to not seeing them every day. He missed Beth coming and bouncing on him to wake in the mornings, or Gemma (when she wasn't being grumpy) staying up to watch bad science-fiction movies with him.

Sometimes it was like a permanent ache not having them with him. Being flexible often worked in his favour. He just wished Sam had thought more about the implications of the big job in the city before she'd taken it. But, unfortunately, she had a lifestyle to maintain, and the big job in the city was part of that. He did worry about the effect it had on the kids, though. Gemma was so self-contained it was hard to know what was going on in her head, but Beth – she was so sensitive. On more than one occasion she had sobbed when her mother hadn't been there to pick them up.

‘Beth's at her after-school club. She needs to be picked up by six. And Gemma's at Shelly's. Oh, and Beth needs to be dropped at scouts at seven p.m.’

‘You'd better get a move on,’ continued Sam. ‘Beth's club finishes at six.’

Mark thought about making a cutting remark but Sam had already hung up. Bugger, Beth would be the last one in the hall again. He hated doing that to her. He couldn't understand how Sam could. So often. So easily. A picture of Emily swam before his eyes. For the first time since Sam had left him, he wondered what he'd ever seen in her in the first place.

Katie pulled into the poky car park belonging to the church hall, which housed the Thurfield 10th District Scouts Pack. As usual she was running late. Cars were already pulling out of the car park – everyone else evidently having arrived on time. It was hectic and dark and she had a pulsing headache at the thought of the effort it was going to take to extricate Molly, who'd fallen asleep, and Aidan, who was suffering from grumpy Friday-it is, out of the car while she got George inside. Normally she'd have let him run in, or left the others in the car while she saw him to the door, but there had been rumours of a stranger hanging round the scout hut and all the parents had been asked to escort the children directly to the door. Why did no activity involving the children ever seem to be straightforward these days? Katie couldn't remember her own mother transporting her round like this. If anything, Katie had been left pretty much to her own devices, and had taken herself off to Brownies more often than not.

Eventually, Katie pulled up next to a Volvo, got out, and went round to Molly's side to unclip her seat. As she was bending down she heard a familiar voice talking to someone. She looked up, and to her consternation saw Mark. Shit, what was he doing here? She busied herself with Molly and hoped he hadn't noticed her. Katie had been enjoying the glorious freedom of apparently
being childfree that dancing classes had afforded her, and she wasn't quite ready to let the bubble burst.

‘Yes, Sam, I am not entirely incapable. I've just dropped her off now,’ Mark was saying. ‘And you're sure you'll be back in time to pick her up? Only I am supposed to be going out, remember?’

Katie nearly dropped Molly in shock. Mark had kids? Emily had mentioned an ex-wife, but no kids, or none that he'd seen fit to mention to Emily. Maybe there was an explanation for it, but for the life of her Katie couldn't think what it was.

‘Right, see you later. Try not to be too long.’ Mark snapped his phone shut, got into his car and drove off, while Katie cowered behind hers, hoping he hadn't seen her. When he'd gone, she stood up and walked into the hut with the children, shaking her head in disbelief. She'd really had Mark taped as one of the good guys. But not only did he have kids, it looked like things might not be completely over with his ex. It just showed how wrong you could be about people. Emily was going to be livid.

Oh bloody hell. What a dilemma. Should she tell Emily before she met Mark tonight? Katie still hadn't made up her mind by the time she'd got back to the car. She had almost decided that she was going to tell Emily, then realised she'd left her mobile at home. She glanced at her watch: it had just gone seven. She thought Emily had said she was meeting Mark around eight – Katie should just have time to bathe Molly and get her into bed, then ring before Emily went out. Katie wasn't at all sure Emily would want to hear what she had to say, but as her closest friend she felt duty-bound to say it. Bugger. Why did life have to be so complicated?

Emily trudged up the hill from the station. She didn't have time to go home before she went to Mark's house. She'd just go straight there. Maybe they could dispense with the drink and just watch another episode of
Green Wing
. Heaven knows, she could do with a laugh.

It had been a hell of a day. Mel had been on her case all day long about the length of time it was taking to find out whether a soap star could really have been as sober as she claimed to be when she was picked up for drunk driving following five hours in a bar in Soho. The case for the defence was that she had been taking medication for a severe head cold which had interfered with the one drink she had had all evening. The trouble was, several barmen had spotted her staggering about the place, and there was CCTV footage of her downing shots of what looked like tequila.

It was pretty much cut and dried, but the soap star's agent had a lot of clients in similar situations on their books. Mel didn't want this one to go tits up. Never had Emily felt more despairing about her chosen career.

Emily grabbed an
Evening Standard
on her way home, and vaguely clocked that Jasmine was one of the lead stories, but she couldn't face reading about one of her lot tonight. Instead she concentrated on doing word searches and sudoku, and thinking about Mark. She couldn't wait to see him again. He was so refreshing after Callum. So kind and thoughtful and generous. Emily was enjoying his company more and more. She just hoped he felt the same.

Right. Mark took a deep breath. This should be simple. Sam was going to pick Gemma up at 8 p.m. and Beth up from scouts at 8.30 p.m. Emily need never know they'd been here. He could then take his time to tell her about the girls. Tonight had made him see that he had to let Emily know about them. It wasn't fair on any of them if Mark continued lying about it. At least he could finally tell Emily the truth. It was a relief, to be honest.

Gemma looked disinterested as he came through the door. She was lounging on the sofa watching
EastEnders
.

‘Don't you have any homework?’

‘Done it.’ She barely acknowledged his presence. He wished he knew how to get through to her.

The phone rang.

Sam again.

‘Look, I'm really sorry. There are still no trains from Victoria,’ she said. ‘I don't know what time I'm going to get in. Can the girls stay with you?’

‘Well, I'm hardly going to say no, am I?’ Mark said. ‘Of course they can.’

‘Great,’ said Sam, and her phone snapped shut.

‘Gem, you don't mind staying the night, do you?’ Mark asked. ‘Only your mum's stuck up in London.’

‘Whatever,’ said Gemma, looking bored.

Despite his outward calmness, Mark was in a flat spin. Now what was he going to do? Emily was going to be here any minute and he'd have to let her know that she was going to be sharing her evening with two children who until now she'd had no idea had existed.

The doorbell rang. Oh sod it, it was now or never.

‘I've had a hell of a day,’ said Emily, flying through the door like a whirlwind. She dumped her paper and bag in the hall. ‘I hope you've got something to drink. I just got out of London before there was a security alert and my train home has been incredibly slow.’

‘Er –’ Mark's plan had been to stop Emily at the door and explain everything, but she was already barging past him to the lounge, saying, ‘Am I ever in need of a laugh tonight –’

She stopped dead. And stared at Gemma. Then she stared back at Mark, her mouth wide open.

‘Who –?’ If he hadn't been so stressed, Mark might have pitied her bewilderment. She stared at Gemma again, and then back at Mark.

‘Who are you?’ said Gemma rudely. ‘Dad, is this your
girlfriend?
’ ‘
Dad?
’ Emily looked as if she'd lost the power of speech. ‘You never said you had a daughter,’ she continued after the silence.
Her bewilderment was growing into rage. ‘When were you planning to tell me about this?’

Mark put his hands up. ‘Look, Emily, I'm really sorry. I was going to tell you. Emily, this is my daughter, Gemma. Gemma, meet Emily.’

Gemma stared at Mark in disgust.

‘you've got a new girlfriend and you hadn't bothered to tell her about
us
? That's nice. Really nice.’ She threw the magazine she'd been reading onto the floor and stormed off to her room.

‘Us?’

‘Um – I have another daughter, Beth. She's at Scouts. I have to pick her up in a minute. Perhaps you could come –?’ He left the question hanging and was rewarded with a withering stare. ‘Or perhaps not.’

Emily looked at him blankly.

‘I really thought you were different. But it turns out you're just like all the rest.’

‘I'm not,’ protested Mark. ‘Look, I know I should have told you –’ His voice trailed off in misery.

‘How could you have lied to me like that?’ she said, shaking her head in disbelief.

She stormed out of the lounge, and Mark followed her.

‘I'm sorry, Emily, really I am. I never meant for you to find out like this.’

‘Forget it,’ said Emily, grabbing her bag and marching to the front door. ‘And just so you know, you won't be seeing me again.’

She slammed the front door shut, leaving Mark feeling more bereft than at any point since Sam had left. In her hurry she'd left her paper behind. He picked it up idly, toying with the idea of running after her. He had been so looking forward to this evening, and it had all gone wrong. He didn't suppose it could get much worse.