Talk to Me (5 page)

In the cab on the way home, Emily was positively fizzing. She perched on the edge of her seat, one leg crossed, jiggling up and down with excitement.

‘Well, who’d have thought? That was an interesting night. I’m so glad you suggested we go.’

I didn’t have the energy to remind her that she’d invited herself.

‘Barney definitely knows all the right people.’

‘Mmm,’ I replied, feeling a bit woozy. Despite my best intentions I’d succumbed to an extra glass of wine or two. I felt a bit sick as the taxi swayed around corners.

‘What fun, though. Such a mix of people. Olivia – are you still with us?’

‘Sorry, my brain’s a bit scrambled.’ And my stomach. ‘Wish I’d taken notes – some of them blurred into another towards the end.’

Ned turned out to be as good as it got. There were enough sparks there to fire up a very small Bunsen burner. Two others had been a bit on the hopeless side. Both probably still lived with their mother and were the kind I needed to steer clear of – the ones you go out with because you don’t want to hurt their feelings and three weeks later you’re inventing dead relatives and funerals in the Outer Hebrides to avoid another date.

At least with this speed-dating malarkey it was much easier to be hard-hearted. You could say no at the outset without hurting anyone’s feelings.

My fabulous question had met with mixed results but sorted the men from the gentlemen. Not one of them, not even Ned, came up with the right answer, which was, of course, flight as long as you don’t have to wear the tights. I’ve always had a bit of a thing for Clark Kent.

Emily was still fidgeting. She’d clearly enjoyed herself.

‘I can remember them all. There was one complete weirdo, asking me whether I could fly? Complete beer monster. Too boy next door for me.’ She wrinkled her nose.

That would have been Ned then.

‘That tall guy was nice, good-looking and very smart. Likes Japanese food and knows this lovely restaurant in Soho. His brother’s just written a screenplay. Offered to take me to a private screening.’ She smiled for a moment. I might have known she’d find Anthony attractive.

Then her face dissolved into a disgruntled scowl. ‘Oh my God. Did you get that short chap? Did you see that tank top? His granny must have knitted it. So much for exclusivity. How on earth did he get in past the pneumatic blonde bouncers?’

She did rattle on sometimes. My brain was addled. I was ready for bed.

‘Who?’

‘You must remember.’

I forced myself to concentrate. Tank top? And then it came to me. ‘You mean the one in blue chinos, a bit of a Tom Cruise lookalike.’

‘He was short enough, I suppose.’

‘Don’t be mean, Emily, he did have a touch of Cruise about him. He was quite good-looking in a Clark Kent kind of way. If he took those glasses off and did something with his hair he’d look a lot better.’

‘You and your CK fixation.’ She tutted. ‘He was all right, I guess but you’d have thought he’d lash out and buy a new pair of glasses. You know, try and make a good impression. Did you see the state of them? That silver duct tape holding the lenses in. Talk about style disaster.’ She shuddered.

‘So you didn’t tick his box then?’ I asked, expecting her to say, of course not. She shifted in her seat, picking at her thumbnail.

‘Speaking theoretically,’ she began.

A get-out clause if ever I heard one.

‘If … I was in the market … which, of course, I’m not … because I’m going out with Daniel … but if I wasn’t … there were a couple of guys, you know … I might have been interested in. That screenplay guy was quite promising. Do you know he completes the
Times
crossword every day?’

‘Yes he did mention it.’ Three times.

‘And he loves sushi.’ She sighed. ‘Clever, sophisticated and gorgeous.’

Surely she must have realised the only person he was ever going to be interested in was himself.

‘Knows some really impressive people. Great contacts. I might meet him for a drink or something. You know … purely platonic … because … you know, I am seeing Daniel. Just networking, you know? Did you see the guy in the Hugo Boss suit and that tie? He was at Eton. Something big in property now. A developer, I think. Offices in Kensington.’

‘Emily, he’s an estate agent.’

‘Are you sure?’ Her forehead crumpled.

I nodded. ‘Definitely. He’s a mate of Barney’s. I’ve met him before. Once tried to sell me a broom cupboard in Wimbledon.’

Her face fell in disappointment. ‘Nice suit though. How about you? Going to see anyone again?’

‘Not sure. There was one guy …’ I trailed off. Ned had been quite nice and it had only been three minutes. Could there be more there if I gave him a chance?

‘Which one?’

‘Guy called Ned, he was all right.’

‘Why not give it a whirl? What have you got to lose? It’s time you had a bit of fun. Get you out of the flat. I know you had a disaster with that Mike bloke at uni, but when was the last time you went out with anyone for longer than a month? You really need to start trusting again. You’ll never find the one mooching around at home with Daniel and me all the time.’

As the cab pulled up outside the flat, Emily’s face fell. ‘Shit,’ she said, looking up at her bedroom window.

‘What?’ I asked alarmed.

‘My light’s on. Daniel’s here. I wish you hadn’t given him that key.’

‘I’m sorry but that was before you were going out. Came in handy for someone else to have a key if I locked myself out. I thought you said he was meeting his folks for dinner.’

She shrugged. ‘Yeah, at the Oxo Tower. He said there was a chance he’d come by afterwards if it wasn’t too late.’

She’d changed her tune, she hadn’t mentioned that earlier.

‘I’m surprised he didn’t invite you to meet them?’ And that she wouldn’t jump at the chance for a posh dinner. ‘They’re very laid-back. Lovely, especially Miriam, his stepmum. She’s quite a character.’

Emily shrugged. ‘He did.’ She gave an impish smile. ‘I’m not a meeting-the-parents kind of gal.’

Maybe she was right. Let’s face it, she had more luck with men than me.

‘So,’ I said, fumbling with the handle of the door while shoving a ten pound note at the cab driver.

‘I don’t want him to know where we’ve been. He’s been a bit off …’ She stepped down onto the pavement.

Off what? Off hand. Off as in going off her? I was dying to ask, but there was no way she’d admit a man was losing interest.

‘Where have we been?’ she said, pulling on my arm to slow my progress to the front door. ‘Think.’

‘We’ve been out. For a drink.’

‘Yes, but where?’

‘Café Lulu, perhaps?’

‘We can’t tell him that!’ she hissed in an outraged whisper.

‘Why not? It’s the truth. Just don’t mention the speed-date bit.’

‘What if he knows that they have speed-dating there?’

‘Emily, even if he did, why would he think that we’d been?’

She shrugged, pushing past me as I opened the door.

‘Don’t mind me,’ I muttered, watching her disappear up the stairs as I hung up my coat.

‘Daniel!’ Emily’s excited squeal carried down the stairs. She should have been on the stage.

Just my luck, Daniel was sitting on the sofa, looking completely at home.

‘Hi, Olivia. Been somewhere nice?’

‘Hi—’ I got no further.

Emily busily taking off her coat and dumping it on a nearby chair, interrupted. ‘We’ve been to this fabulous bar tonight. Café Lulu, just off Charlotte Street. Really nice, wasn’t it, Olivia? Absolutely packed. Loads of people. Met Olivia’s cousin there. Barney. Of course you know him? He was with some friends. If I’d known you’d be here by now, you could have joined us. Why didn’t you phone?’ Emily stopped for breath.

Daniel looked bemused by the rapid information download. ‘I did. A couple of times, but it went straight to voicemail.’

I glanced at Emily remembering her switching off her mobile, saying she didn’t want Daniel ringing mid-date.

‘So how was Barney?’ asked Daniel looking at me. ‘Hasn’t he set up some speed-dating business? That’s what Kate told me at Lucy and Piers’s wedding.’

Emily’s mouth opened and shut, her eyes widening with a quick-say-something look.

‘Loathsome as ever.’

‘Are you ever going to let sleeping hamsters lie?’ he teased.

‘Nope.’

‘Surprised you met up with him. What happened to your hate-hate relationship?’

‘Strong as ever,’ I said, shooting a now-look-what-you’ve-done glare at Emily. ‘Sadly, we bumped into him. Tea anyone?’

‘I’d love one, Olivia,’ said Emily.

Daniel frowned at her. ‘Thought it kept you awake.’

Blithely she completely ignored him and muttered, ‘Must take these shoes off,’ before disappearing to her room.

Hoping to escape I headed for the kitchen, only to find Daniel on my heels.

‘You know, Olivia, perhaps you should try one of Barney’s speed-dates.’ The gentleness in his voice made me wish things were different. ‘Get a man of your own.’

A furious blush raced along my cheekbones, I could feel it.

‘No good waiting around, hoping things will change.’

My stomach lurched, that horrible dip-in-the-road-feeling. How embarrassing. I kept my head down. If I looked at him, I might burst into tears. God, how mortifying. He knew how I felt about him. And so typical of him, giving me a gentle warning off.

Suddenly his arm was around me and he was giving me an awkward hug.

‘Olivia, I care about you.’ His fingers brushed the top of my arm and I started at the soft tingle they left. ‘I don’t want to see you hurt.’

I swallowed the lump forming in the back of my throat, breathing in the faint tang of citrus. God, he was lovely even when he was telling me he wasn’t interested. Don’t cry. Think happy thoughts. Smile. Pretend.

I managed a faint smile but tears were threatening to take over. ‘Think I’ll forget the tea,’ I said in a strained voice, and fled to my bedroom.

He frowned as he followed Emily back into her room. There were undercurrents present this evening that he couldn’t keep up with.

‘Sorry about that,’ whispered Emily. ‘We were out with you know who.’ She shut the bedroom door.

‘I guessed as much from the odd atmosphere when the two of you came in. I don’t get it though, she doesn’t seem happy.’ He wasn’t going to ask what the guy was like. Nothing to do with him and why should he care?

‘It’s difficult,’ said Emily, turning away fiddling with the hem of her dress. ‘You staying tonight? Thought you were playing cricket tomorrow.’ He detected the sharpness of her tone.

Cricket was still a sore point. He didn’t want to give it up – he’d played for the club since he was twelve. After a week at work he enjoyed getting out on the pitch, but he could appreciate it was a bit of a drag for Emily. They didn’t usually finish until seven or eight. Even the compromise of playing every other weekend didn’t seem to have placated her.

‘Yeah.’ He grinned and slid his arms around her, getting a noseful of a perfume so strong it almost made his eyes water. ‘But I don’t have to leave until eleven tomorrow.’

She pouted, her eyes sad and doleful. ‘It’s hardly worth you staying; you might as well go home now. You’d probably rather anyway.’

He immediately felt guilty and doused the temptation to call her bluff. He didn’t want to upset her. Something he seemed quite good at. Despite her outward confidence and bouncy attractiveness, he’d found quite quickly that she was desperately insecure, needing constant reassurance and although her fragility made him want to look after her, sometimes it could be wearing.

He shifted the pile of clothes on the chair, transferring them to the bed and pulled her down onto his lap. ‘Emily, I’m here now. I can stay tonight.’

At the end of the speed-date we were supposed to pop our scorecards into a special post box at the bottom of the stairs on our way out. Amazingly, despite mine still being screwed up in my coat pocket, I received an email from Ned on Sunday evening. All my foreboding about Barney’s business ethics was borne out. Either that or he’d recruited a psychic speed-dater.

Apparently Ned had got his hands on a second-hand invisibility cloak and wondered if I fancied testing it with a shoe-lifting expedition to liberate a pair of Jimmy Chews. (His spelling.) I was intrigued and after Friday night’s kitchen tête-à-tête, drastic measures were needed to show Daniel I wasn’t pining after him.

Emily was sprawled the length of the sofa half-heartedly watching
Antiques Roadshow
and flicking through
Heat
magazine.

‘What are you smiling about?’ she asked lazily, stretching and yawning, already in her pyjamas.

Sunday nights were sacrosanct in the flat – ironing, followed by hair washing in readiness for the onslaught of a week at work. All of which was always rounded off with rubbish Sunday telly and a nice bottle of cold Pinot Grigio or whatever was cheapest in Tesco that week.

‘Barney and his underhand tactics. Have you heard from anyone?’

‘What underhand tactics?’

‘I … didn’t actually hand my scorecard in.’ I pulled a rueful face. ‘Chickened out. At the last minute. Didn’t put it in the slot.’

‘Olivia. You are hopeless!’ Emily tutted.

‘Didn’t make much difference. Barney’s still passed my details on. I’ve got an email. Have you had any?’

‘What?’ Her left eyelid flickered before she said quickly, ‘No, of course not. What do you think it’s worth?’ She pointed to the screen and a very ugly painting. ‘They’re getting all excited. Bet it’s less than two hundred pounds. Wonder how they know? Do you think they make it up sometimes?’

The minx. Her sudden absorption in
Antiques Roadshow
didn’t fool me.

I hadn’t seen or spoken properly to Kate since the speed-date and when she phoned on Monday morning with her glib claim that she was in London that afternoon and could meet me after work for a drink, she didn’t fool me. She wanted gory details, I knew her too well. She and Barney were close so he was bound to have filled her in. In fact, she may have even put him up to giving Ned my email address.

I was still wondering, as I walked to the hip bar she’d chosen, whether I should go out with Ned. His email had made me laugh. I’d have to come up with an equally witty reply. I tried out various lines in my head. They were all way too corny.

As soon as I got to Asia de Cuba I spotted Kate perched on a high bar stool around one of those impossibly trendy stainless steel pillars that double as a table or a leaning post. She already had a bottle of wine at the ready with two glasses.

The cross-examination began before I’d even taken my first sip.

‘How did Emily get on?’ asked Kate. ‘Has she had any emails?’

Since when the interest in my flatmate? What about me?

‘No … well, not that she’s admitting.’

‘I bet she has.’ My sister smirked, pausing dramatically and taking a large glug of wine before announcing, ‘She ticked three boxes.’

‘Three?’ I echoed. I stared at her open-mouthed for a second, my glass halting before my lips. ‘And how do you know that?’

She grinned and preened a little.

I shook my head and tutted. ‘Typical Barney. No concept of client confidentiality.’ I paused before asking idly, swirling the wine in my hand. ‘So do you know whose boxes she ticked?’

‘Not so worried about client confidentiality now?’ crowed Kate.

I pulled a face at her, wrinkling my nose and wriggling uncomfortably. The bar stools were designed for someone with more flesh on their backside than me. ‘Just spit it out, you old harpy.’

‘Some chap called Anthony. One of Barney’s mates, Charlie, and I can’t remember the name of the other one.’

Three!

‘Blimey. Poor Daniel,’ I said in disgust.

‘Olivia, what planet have you been on for the last few months? Surely you can see what she’s like. I don’t know what Daniel sees in her. He’s way too good for her.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘I always thought—’

I interrupted her. There was no way I wanted her going down that road. ‘Emily’s not that bad.’

‘Olivia. Yes she is. She’s one of those girls who are always on the lookout for their next victim. She’d be out on-the-pull the night before her wedding, just in case. Has she ever not had a boyfriend?’

Kate was being unnecessarily harsh. Although on reflection, in the time I’d been sharing with Emily, she’d always had someone in tow, some overlapping occasionally.

‘No,’ I said trying to be fair. ‘But that’s because of her mother’s disastrous marriages. She’s very insecure.’

‘Huh, she hides it well.’ Kate’s face said it all.

‘You don’t know her that well. Her mum’s had two husbands walk out!’

Kate sniffed with a marked lack of sympathy. ‘What was it Oscar Wilde said? “To lose one, may be regarded as a misfortune, to lose two seems like carelessness.”’

‘Kate, you are so heartless.’ I pretended to be shocked. She grinned at me. Was it my imagination or was she spikier than usual these days?

‘Sorry,’ she said unrepentantly. ‘Tell me about your speed-date. Barney says you made quite an impression on one of the guys.’

‘Did he now? That would be the Barney that blatantly ignored the fact that I didn’t hand in my card.’

Kate grinned.

I had wondered if she hadn’t put him up to it. Now I knew she bloody had.

‘Barney must mean Ned, the guy with ESP, who worked out my email address all by himself,’ I observed dryly. ‘He was quite nice. I’m thinking of meeting him for a shop-lifting session.’

‘Pardon?’ She raised her eyebrows and, giggling, I told her about the email which then led on to a lengthy digression about what shoes we’d steal. Kate was firmly in the Christian Louboutin camp and had seen a pair of the red-soled beauties in Selfridges for a snip at £750. My hankering was for a pair of Jimmy Choos, drop dead gorgeous black courts which even in the outlet village were still £300. We agreed stealing them was our only option because, as Kate pointed out, how many people can really justify spending the cost of a small holiday on a pair of shoes, no matter how lovely?

It wasn’t until we’d downed a whole bottle of white wine and a couple of caesar salads that Kate steered the conversation back to Ned.

‘So, Olivia, are you going to meet this guy?’

I shrugged. ‘I might meet him for a drink … but that’s all. So don’t get excited and start telling Mum or anyone.’

She looked at me over the rim of her glass. ‘You should go for it. It’s well past time you started seeing people properly again.’

‘Why?’ I held her gaze.

‘To prove you’re over Mike.’

‘I am,’ I said indignantly.

Mike! Give me a break. I hadn’t thought about him in years even though he had done the dirty thoroughly. She was dipping her toes in the wrong ocean. Mike, love of my life in my university days, had been well and truly eclipsed by someone else.

‘Olivia!’ she said crossly.

I pointedly avoided meeting her eyes. If she said another word I would start humming. Childish, I know, but I hated talking about Mike. Not because it still hurt, but because it was totally embarrassing. How could I have been so stupid?

In exasperation she slammed her glass down, the dregs of her drink splashing over my hand that was busily shredding a beer mat.

‘For God’s sake. You’re so stubborn. Don’t pretend. It still bothers you.’

‘I have to go,’ I said coolly, gathering up my mobile phone and purse, shoving them into my handbag. ‘Early start tomorrow. A meeting in Derby. I need to leave early. I’ll call.’ After Daniel’s words the other night I was still feeling a bit raw. I couldn’t handle a heart-to-heart session with Kate just now.

‘That is so typical. Just bury your head in the sand. You need to talk about it. You’re in denial,’ she snapped.

‘Denial, schmial … you’re not a bloody psychologist. There’s nothing to talk about. You, Mum and Auntie Bren are the ones with the hang-up. Having a boyfriend who drives a Porsche and gets a massive bonus every year, is not a marker of success,’ I said, having a little dig at Kate. ‘It doesn’t mean you’ve made it.’

With that I pulled on my jacket, swung my legs off the stool and left to her parting shot that I was a stubborn pain in the proverbial.

As I stomped down Long Acre heading for Leicester Square tube I felt pissed off. Thinking about Mike always left me feeling churned up. He’d made such a fool of me.

No one was going to do that to me again and, by the same token, I couldn’t do it to anyone else. Trust. Honesty. They made up my moral compass, but Mike had sent everything West.

Striding down the platform I glared at every man whose eye I happened to catch. When the train pulled in, I threw myself into a seat and brooded on the past.

In my second year at University I’d been swept off my feet, quite literally, by the Brad Pitt of the campus. Mike was the kind of guy that everyone went ‘phwoar’ about, even though none of us had ever spoken to him. He could have had serious halitosis or a major speech impediment for all we knew.

The memories flooded back as the train pulled out of Leicester Square, plunging into the tunnel and picking up speed. I could still remember my first encounter with him, another thing I could blame on Kate. Her and her bloody Agent Provocateur knickers.

‘Don’t forget these,’ she’d said, grinning as she shoved the tiniest pair of leopard-print silk knickers through the driver’s window of Daniel’s car when he came to pick me up to go back to Norwich.

Daniel roared with laughter. ‘I’m seeing a whole different side to you.’

‘As if I’d wear them,’ I’d retorted, blushing bright pink. ‘Bloody Christmas present. I was hoping to accidentally leave them behind. Can you see me down the launderette with them?’

He wasn’t laughing when his girlfriend discovered them under the passenger seat a week later, igniting all her jealousy of our cosy chats on the M11. Determined on ritualistic humiliation, she decided to hand them back in the crowded campus coffee bar.

Luckily for me, Daniel whispered a few words in the ear of one of his rugby teammates. It was one hell of a surprise when two steps over the threshold of the coffee bar, I was scooped up by a man of demigod status. Hauling me along, he drew us away from the curious stares in the coffee bar, across the courtyard and down a walkway to a doorway hidden from view. At which point he pressed a scrap of something into my hand. Looking down I spotted the infamous pants. It was my very own Cinderella moment!

Looking around the carriage I caught the eye of a teenage girl opposite, who gave me a funny look. Had I been talking to myself while remembering all this? Even now the memories gave me goosebumps.

‘Dan asked me to give you these,’ Mike had muttered apologetically as I nodded up at him, my heart bumping. Even now I couldn’t be sure whether my breathlessness had been the result of the surprise of the ambush or the proximity of a very manly chest in a crisp, white T-shirt, centimetres from my nose? I remember gazing up into his dark brown eyes, and the magic of that first kiss, when his head dipped and I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t put up an iota of resistance. Well, you don’t when the campus heart-throb is suddenly giving your lips his exclusive attention. It wasn’t the sort of thing I normally did and certainly not stone cold sober, in public and before 11.00 a.m.

I caught the eye of the girl in the carriage again as I winced. She must have thought I was a nutter. If only the rest of the memories were as nice. At first I got the fairy tale ending when Mike and I became a couple. And it was so easy, no niggles, no jealousies and no hidden agendas. I should have known it was too good to be true.

Ironically at the same time, Daniel split up with his girlfriend, thus starting a pattern where he and I were never single at the same time until the evening he and Emily had got together. I’d been so hopeful that our relationship might finally change that night.

In flagrante delicto always sounds vaguely amusing; a situation comedy moment, with people hopping about with one leg in their trousers. In reality it’s anything but funny. It’s about as bloody unfunny as things get.

Even now gazing at my reflection in the tube window, I could still feel the dismay at the sight of those lovely muscled buttocks rhythmically heaving, all graphic and porn film … with someone else.

I pulled a face at myself. Stupid cow. Any feisty film heroine worth her expensive lingerie would have charged in, slapped his arse smartly, yelling, ‘You bastard’. Not me, I crept away unnoticed. Numb. In shock.

Embarrassed I looked around the carriage. The girl was openly sniggering. Bloody typical. Even now, eight years later, I was making myself look stupid over Mike. I’d had other boyfriends but I’d always made sure I kept things light and superficial. No chance of getting hurt that way. Unfortunately light and superficial had worn thin of late. I wanted more. Through the window I could see the words Embankment. I needed to keep my wits about me. I hadn’t realised we were nearly at Waterloo.

I remembered Mike’s face when he realised I knew.

‘Busy weekend?’ I’d asked coolly, when he’d finally turned up at my door.

‘No, not really,’ he’d said smiling, charming as ever. ‘I had to get an essay done. Sorry babes, meant to call you but spent the whole weekend holed up in my room, burning the midnight oil to get it finished.’

‘Really, and here I was thinking you’d spent the whole weekend shagging some strange redhead,’ I snapped viciously

Shock registered in his face as his eyes widened. The big, fat, lying, slimy git.

‘Mike, you didn’t lock your door,’ I’d told him with quiet despair.

It turned out that the girl with red hair, Tracey, had planned her visit as a surprise. She’d certainly accomplished that goal. She was the girl from his home town, the one he’d been seeing since they were both sixteen. Fed up with Mike’s constant excuses of a huge workload, she’d arrived unannounced. Mm, that would be the workload that involved three hours of lectures a week, fifty-three down the pub and the rest shagging me.