Thinking of You (23 page)

Lunchtime in the restaurant had been an ordeal for Ginny, what with Evie's endless speculations and the nest of snakes squirming away in her stomach. Finally the last diners were dispatched, the dining room was in a state of readiness for this evening's influx, and Ginny was able to leave.

Finn emerged from his flat as she was about to unlock the car. At the sight of him heading toward her, the snakes went into frenzied wriggly overdrive. Ironically too, the shock of this new situation with Tamsin was far greater than when she'd found out about Carla and Perry, which just went to show how much less Perry had meant to her than she'd imagined at the time. Last night with Finn had been in a completely different league, Ginny realized. It wasn't helping either that she was still experiencing vivid flashbacks to last night when both of them had been naked and doing something considerably more intimate than the Macarena.

It was disconcerting to think Finn might be getting flashbacks too. Although to be fair he probably had more on his mind right now than yesterday's casual fling.

When he reached her, Ginny saw the signs of strain in his face. His hands were pushed into the pockets of his trousers and his shoulders were tense. Fixing a troubled gaze on her, he came straight to the point.

“Ginny, sorry about this but there's something we need to discuss. Obviously, Tamsin's turned up. Not what I was expecting, but there it is. And there are issues to sort out.” Finn paused, clearly hating every second of having to explain to her. “Now, last night was great, really it was, and I don't want you to feel… well, pushed aside or ignored, but now that Tamsin's here it's a bit of an awkward—”

“Look, it's fine.” Ginny blurted the words out, unable to bear his discomfort for another second. He was being a gentleman again, doing his best to let her down gently, making sure she understood the situation. “You don't have to say anything. I completely understand. Crikey, there isn't even anything to apologize for! It's not as if we're in a relationship,” she went on. “We're two adults who just happened to fancy a bit of, you know, fun. It was one night, it was what we both wanted at the time, but it didn't
mean
anything.”

Finn looked slightly taken aback at the vehemence of her tone, startled but at the same time visibly relieved. “Right. Well, um, absolutely. So long as you're sure you're OK about it.”

There was definitely a note of disbelief in there too. Oh God, did he think she might secretly be harboring strong feelings for him, laced with bunny-boiler tendencies? Keen to emphasize just how completely OK she was, Ginny vigorously shook her head and exclaimed, “Please, last night wasn't a big deal. In fact it was a very
small
deal! If you're hungry, you grab something to eat. Same with sex. But sleeping with someone doesn't have to mean anything. It doesn't automatically follow that you want to keep on seeing that person. Like last week I had a really great Chinese meal,” she added. “King prawns, mushroom chop suey, and a spring roll. But it didn't make me think I had to sell my house, jump on the next plane, and go live in China.”

Finn looked at her, possibly a bit stunned by the chop suey analogy. But Ginny felt she'd convinced him at last. He nodded and said awkwardly, “Of course not. Well, that's sorted then. Good, thanks for that. So we'll just… carry on as normal.”

“Completely as normal. As if it never happened.” Ginny nodded firmly, because it was so clearly what he needed to hear. Then, unable to contain herself a moment longer, she said, “But are you all right? Am I allowed to ask what's going on? What are they doing here?”

Finn hesitated, finally shaking his head. “It's difficult to explain. I can't really—”

“Oh God, she's coming out,” Ginny yelped. Her heart leaping with fresh guilt, she yanked open the car door. “I'll leave you to it.”

But she was stopped by Tamsin hurrying over to them waving one arm to attract Ginny's attention. “Hello,” she called out, making her way across the courtyard. “Don't rush off!”

But I
want
to rush off, thought Ginny, panicking that Tamsin might somehow have discovered it was her who had spent time last night in Finn's bed. Had she found a stray blond hair on the pillow perhaps and carried out a quick DNA test? Or spotted a stray pair of knickers and immediately deduced that there was only one woman around here frumpy enough to wear sensible, black size tens from a bulk pack? No, it couldn't be that; she'd definitely been wearing pants when she'd left the flat.

“Can I ask you something?” Tamsin, who was surely a size four La Perla thong girl herself, reached the car and touched Ginny's arm.

No!

“Yes.” Cautiously, Ginny nodded, praying she wasn't about to be asked if she could just give that DNA sample now.

“It's just that you were so good with Mae earlier, and Finn and I
really
need some quality time together.” Tamsin's smile was complicit, her tone confiding. “So I wondered if you'd be an angel and babysit for a few hours this evening.”

“Um…” Caught off guard, Ginny faltered. It was a terrible idea.

“We'll pay you, of course. Whatever the going rate is.” Tamsin gestured airily, signaling that she hadn't the least idea what the going rate might be. “Sorry, I'm used to live-in staff; I'm going to have to learn all this new stuff! But don't worry, Finn will sort you out.”

Actually, he gave me a pretty good sorting out last night. Ginny wondered what would happen if she said this aloud. Instead she shook her head and said, “Sorry, I can't do it. I'm busy tonight.”

“Really?” Tamsin looked shocked, as if Ginny had just turned down the offer of a week on Necker Island with George Clooney. “Are you sure? Isn't it something you could cancel?”

“No, it isn't.” Ginny didn't have anything on this evening, but she was buggered if she was going to babysit.

“It doesn't matter,” Finn cut in impatiently. “We don't need a babysitter. We're not going anywhere.”

Tamsin said, “Oh, but—”

“Tamsin, just think about it. I haven't seen Mae for eight months.” He shook his head firmly. “Why would I want to leave her here with someone else?”

Especially with
me
, thought Ginny.

 

Jem doodled a series of boxes in the margin of her legal pad to give the impression that she was working, although she hadn't taken a single note so far. It was Monday morning and the lecture theatre was stuffy and airless. The lecturer, droning on about Milton's
Paradise
Lost
, could have been babbling in Swahili for all the difference it made. Right now nothing useful was permeating her brain.

Three rows in front of her, Davy and Lucy were sitting together, paying attention like model students, and industriously scribbling away. Passing her on the way into the hall, Lucy had flicked a dismissive glance in her direction before turning and whispering something in Davy's ear. Jem had pointedly ignored them; she might be here in Bristol, but she may as well be invisible. She told herself they were pathetic, acting like ten-year-olds, but the cold scrunched-up feeling in the pit of her stomach refused to go away. It wouldn't be so bad if Rupert could have been here with her, but he wasn't. Rupert was back at the flat, missing this morning's lecture in order to nurse his hangover and recover from what had, reportedly, been a truly epic weekend in Scotland.

Imagining the epic-ness of the weekend caused Jem's doodling pen to dig into the writing pad and tear the paper. In the end there hadn't been room in Olly's uncle's helicopter for two extra passengers. Rupert had gone on his own to Olly MacIntyre-Brown's party and Jem, who had spent practically the whole of last week casually mentioning to anyone who'd listen that they were flying up to Scotland to stay in a castle, was forced to invent a debilitating attack of food poisoning as the reason she hadn't been able to go. This in turn had meant she couldn't leave the flat all weekend. Basically, she'd never watched so much television in her life.

The lecture ended and the day dragged on tediously. At four o'clock Jem arrived back at the flat. Letting herself in, she quietly pushed open the door to the bedroom in case Rupert, who could sleep for England, was still out for the count.

The bed was empty.

So was the rest of the flat. A flutter of disquiet made its way up through Jem's chest, although there was no need to feel anxious. Of course there wasn't. She took out her phone and rang Rupert's mobile, which went straight to the answering service.

Where was he? She needed a hug, needed—after a day of near ostracization—the comfort of his arms around her and the knowledge that someone was on her side. And being hugged by Rupert would more than make up for all the crap she was being put through by Davy and Lucy. Or, as Rupert had taken to calling them, Booty and the Beast.

Except he couldn't hug her because he wasn't bloody well
here
. Grimly ignoring the feelings of unease—Rupert hated being nagged about his whereabouts—Jem emptied her rucksack of textbooks and sat down on the sofa to get some work done. She had essays overdue, studying to tackle, end-of-year exams looming like thunderclouds. Right, think positive, use this time profitably. If Rupert didn't come home before six, it meant she had two hours in which to…

OK, she'd just make a coffee first. And have a toasted cheese sandwich because nobody could revise on an empty stomach.

In the kitchen, Jem tried Rupert's phone again. Still no joy.

She found a KitKat in the back of the fridge and ate it while the cheese sandwich toasted. Where was Rupert anyway?

Back in the living room, after flicking through a textbook, Jem pushed it to one side and switched on the TV. After this quiz, then
Richard
and
Judy
, she'd get down to some work.

Definitely.

***

“It's a beautiful DAAAAAY.” Rupert was back and he was singing, the bellowed words accompanied by Bono-style strutting and air-punching. Having burst into the bedroom and thrown himself onto the bed like an upturned beetle he played a set of imaginary drums and roared, “DAAA, DAAA, DA-DAAAAH, it's a beautiful DAYYYYYY.”

Except it wasn't. It was midnight. Jem, who hadn't been asleep, was torn between indignation that he had put her through hours of stomach-churning anxiety and relief that he was home at last. Even if his crash landing on the bed had scored a direct hit on her left ankle.

“Where have you been?” She sat up and pushed her bangs out of her eyes.

“Out.”

“Where?”

“Ah, the dreaded inquisition.” Rupert rolled over and surveyed her with a playful grin. “Sweetheart, it was all completely innocent. I got up at three o'clock and I was hungry. There was no Parma ham in the fridge. So I went down to Chandos Deli to buy some, that's all it was. Then on the way back I happened to bump into Maz and he dragged me against my will into this wine bar. I didn't have any choice, I promise you. He
plied
me with drink.”

“For nine hours?”

“No, no,
no
.” Rupert gravely studied his watch. “Eight hours and eleven minutes, your honor. Not a second more than that.”

“I didn't have any idea where you were,” said Jem. “And your phone was switched off. You could have called and let me know.”

“I could.” He nodded in agreement, considering this point. “But then I thought, I'm nineteen years old and you're not my nanny. I'm allowed out of the house on my own; I can even cross big roads if I'm careful and look both ways first. Plus, you said you had loads of studying, so I thought I'd be doing you a huge favor, keeping out of your way.”

“You have loads of studying too,” Jem pointed out.

“I know, I know. But it's so bloody boring. Now, have you stopped nagging me yet? Because I've got something to tell you.”

He was winning her over, regarding her with amusement. Jem said, “What kind of something?”

“Two things actually. To make up for being a naughty boy and not phoning you, I'm going to take you to Byzantium tomorrow night. How about that?”

Byzantium was possibly the glitziest restaurant in Bristol, with magicians and belly dancers. Glowing and feeling loved—see? he was sorry—she hugged her knees. “What's the other thing?”

His eyes danced. “U2 are playing a concert in Rome this weekend. Maz has tickets.”

Jem let out a squeal of delight. “You're joking!”

“I know, can you believe it? Talk about fate, bumping into him like that this afternoon. So we'll be flying out on Friday night.”

Jem was beside herself, her mind in a whirl. “Oh my God, that is fantastic! I'm supposed to be working on Saturday, but I'll get someone to swap shifts; that won't be a—”

“Whoa, hang on, did I say it wrong?” Rupert held up his hands, forestalling her. “Maz has tickets for the concert. The two of us are flying out to Rome. The two of
us
,” he explained. “Me and Maz.”

Oh. Disappointed wasn't the word. Crushed was more like it. Or stupid, possibly.

“Sorry, sweetie, didn't mean to get your hopes up there.” He patted her knee. “It's just, I knew you were working in the pub this weekend, which is why I thought I might as well go. Maz was supposed to be taking his girlfriend, but they broke up last week. When he mentioned the spare ticket, I jumped at it. Chance of a lifetime. Hey, cheer up,” said Rupert, playing imaginary drums on her thigh. “It's a beautiful daaaaayyyyy.”

It wasn't; it had been a completely shitty one. Jem felt her bottom lip begin to lose control. Now she wouldn't be seeing Rupert this weekend either.

“Oh, look at you. Don't get upset.” He abandoned the drumming and put his arms round her, patting her on the back like a baby. “I couldn't turn down an offer like that, could I?”

Jem shook her head; this was U2 they were talking about, after all. “No. I'm just going to miss you.”

“But it's only for a couple of days.” Pulling back the duvet, Rupert gave her hip a gentle prod. “See this?” Then he pointed to his own denim-clad hip. “And this? We're not joined. We don't have to spend every minute of every day in each other's company.”

“I suppose not.” Jem's voice was small. The thing was, when you loved someone, surely it was only normal to want to spend as much time together as possible? She couldn't help feeling that Rupert wasn't as emotionally involved in their relationship as she was.

“Hey, no need to get all girly about it. Don't cry,” he warned as her eyes filled up. “We're off to Byzantium tomorrow, remember. Unless you don't want to go.”

She forced back the tears.

“I do want to go.”

“Good girl. Now give me a kiss.” His mouth, warm and reeking of alcohol, came down on hers. Drunk or not, he still knew how to kiss. Finally, pulling back and flashing his naughtiest smile, he shifted on top of her. “Mmm, I'm starting to change my mind.”

“About what?” Jem knew better than to hope that he might decide not to go to Rome after all.

Rupert began unfastening his jeans. “Sometimes there's nothing I like more than being joined at the hip.”