Wildflowers (7 page)

It’s only mid-afternoon when we finish, but not surprisingly, I’m exhausted.  I haven’t given him a thought until now, but suddenly I remember Greg.  As I go up the steps to my flat, I don’t even realise I’m holding my breath, but mercifully, when I open the door, it’s empty.  He’s decamped to a mate’s, he tells me in a scribbled note I can barely read, with not so much as a thank you – but then, I did chuck him out and he clearly hadn’t been expecting it.

I
feel a wave of guilt as I look around.  There are no dirty plates to be seen.  He’s even tidied the kitchen and opened a window.  Was I hasty?  Maybe, but my overriding emotion is one of relief, because already I’m struggling to remember what I saw in him.  I take a deep breath and sit on my lovely, empty sofa - and I smile.

Then
, as my new marathon-training regime seems to have gone out of the window these last few days, which isn’t impressive in such early stages, instead of collapsing there for the rest of the evening, I leap up again and go to get my trainers.

I step out of my flat into
one of those evenings where the air feels alive, softly brushing against my skin and rustling the leaves as I go. 

Either that or it’s just that Greg has gone. 
This time, as I turn down the lane, I’m sensible.  Looking at my watch, I walk for five minutes, then jog the next five, then walk again.  I do this for half an hour.  One or two muscles twinge at me, but so far so good and this time I make it home in one piece, where I collapse, slumped on my sofa and my exhaustion catches up with me.

It’s m
uch later when I wake up, half my face crumpled like a paper bag, my hair flattened most attractively.  And yes, I’m still wearing sweaty running shorts when my mobile buzzes at me.  I pick it up to find two new texts.

The first is from an unknown number.

Got your nmbr from H.  How about dinner tonite hot lips. Josh x

Oh! 
Now I’m awake.  The
hot lips
is a bit corny though, unless it’s a reference to our drunken snog from way back.  Anyway, the point is, hot Josh is asking me out!

The second is from Honey:

Gave Josh your number, guessed you wouldn’t mind.  For goodness sake, behave yourself. x

I reply to both by accident.

Of course I’ll behave

Josh calls me straight back.

‘Sorry, that was for Honey, not you.’

‘That’s a relief!  I rather like you misbehaving!  And you shouldn’t listen to Honey, she’s far too serious.’

‘I know
she is, but she means well.  Anyway, hello.  How are you?’  A silly smile’s plastered itself across my face.  I forget entirely how tired I am and that all I was dreaming of was a shower, some food and a seriously early night.  I’m going on a date with Josh!

‘Yeah.
  Good.  So are we on?’

‘Possibly…
’  I smile down my phone at him.

‘I see, well, would McCluskey’s
persuade you?  And we could go on somewhere after that?’

McCluskey’s
would be very nice, thank you.  It’s cooler than cool in there, expensive too, the kind of place Honey makes Johnny take her to.

‘I guess
it might,’ I say, smiling to myself, silencing the little part of me that’s jumping up and down and whooping
YES!

‘Ok – say eight?  I’ll pick you up.’

Oh my giddy aunt – according to my watch it’s already seven, which doesn’t give me long.  A hot date with hot Josh deserves some effort but there’s barely enough time to jump in the shower and shave my legs, let alone fiddle with my clothes.

I settle on a summer dress, a simple, quite
floaty little number, dotted with tiny flowers and I’m just adding mascara when there’s a knock on my door.  Checking my reflection, I go to answer it.

‘Hi!’  Josh leans forward and kisses me on the cheek.

‘Hello!  Come on in!  You’ll have to forgive me if I’m not my usual sparkling self tonight – I’ve had a bit of a day.  Few days actually…’

‘Sounds like you could do with a drink,’ says Josh
, following me in and looking around my flat.  ‘I know I could.’

‘Just give me a minute.’  I dash back to my bedroom, adding lipstick, a spritz of perfume and running a comb through my almost dry hair.  I’d have liked longer but
I’ll have to do.  Then taking a deep breath, I square my shoulders, and go back out to him.

He looks me up and down, approvingly.  ‘
Shall we go?’

As w
e go out to his car, every bit the gentleman, he opens the passenger door for me.  Oh, I do like old-fashioned good manners in a man!  In fact, I’m liking this more and more.  The car is very new and smooth and tidy after my van, which tends to be littered with chocolate wrappers and coke tins, though he drives too fast along the narrow lanes, but before I know it, we’re in Tunbridge Wells where McCluskey’s is.

He’s
even reserved a table, which impresses me, because he’s obviously given this some thought.  And it’s just as well, or we wouldn’t have got in – already the place is packed.  We sit at the little table we’re shown to, and I pinch myself, just to be sure, reminding myself that this is how it’s supposed to be, on a proper date.  With a guy I fancy the pants off.  I’m not going to blow this!  Not this time!  I will be the epitome of good behaviour and have just one small drink – and no more.

A
waiter pours the wine Josh orders – a delicious white, ice cold – and I know straight away, this isn’t going to be easy.

‘So tell me about your week,’ says Josh.  ‘A couple of weddings can’t be that arduous, surely…’ 

‘Well,’ I start.  ‘Everyone thinks that, but I can assure you, nothing could be further from the truth.  You see, it all began with a rabbit…’

‘A
rabbit
…’ His eyes are twinkling most naughtily.

‘
Not that kind,’ I roll my eyes at him.  ‘You know, one of those brown furry things with long ears and a penchant for all things floral.  Anyway, last weekend, one decided to move into my workshop, but I found his secret tunnel and he’s history.  Actually, it was Lulubelle who found it - she lives in the village too.  Then, after that, everything was going swimmingly.  Skye and I had everything under control and then this weird guy came in and poured weed-killer on all the wedding flowers, only of course I didn’t realise until the following day, when I opened up the shop and they were dead. Every last one of them. So there I was with two weddings and no flowers.’

I pause for effect and sip my wine. 
Lovely, lovely wine which I really ought to have another glass of.  I feel my resolve slipping away.

‘So,
d’you ever get anyone famous in?’  He says it so casually.

I open my mouth to mention Maria, then for some reason close it again.  I mean, I’d love to tell him, but we’re sitting in the middle of a restaurant.  It’s not exactly discrete.  ‘Not really. 
You don’t get many celebs in Dexter’s Green.  I should also tell you that - I’m trying to be abstemious,’ I add quickly as he goes to top up my glass.  He goggles at me.

‘
Why
?’

‘
New regime,’ I tell him.  ‘In the interest of my health – and the Brighton half marathon.  Anyway, going back to the flowers, I had a whole new lot delivered at three o’clock this morning.  Problem solved.  Bit of an early start though… How was your day?’

‘
Quite lazy, compared to yours.  I had lunch over at Johnny and Honey’s.  She was up to her usual tricks, bossing the poor guy around.  If I was him, I wouldn’t put up with it.’  But instead of sounding affectionate, he sounds disgusted. 

I feel
the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.

‘Oh they’re
alright, aren’t they?  Honey’s bark is worse than her bite and she adores him.  I’ve known her forever… She wouldn’t have given up single woman-hood for anyone else in the world.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t
put up with it.  I wouldn’t be in his shoes either, I’ll tell you that much.’

Now
, a Saturday night in the buzzing heart of McCluskey’s would ordinarily be my idea of heaven.  But as I sit back while the waiter brings us our starters, I study Josh when he’s not looking, not liking one bit how he just talked about Honey.  Not only that, but when the waiter apologises for a delay I hadn’t even noticed, he’s abrupt to the point of rudeness. 

I
feel myself frown slightly, because all of a sudden, I’m not feeling the lust.  Dare I say it, hot Josh suddenly doesn’t seem so
hot.
  I know I’m tired, but quite simply, the most appealing thing in the world right now is my bed.  And yes, believe it or not, alone.

‘Aren’t you hungry?’  His voice interrupts my thoughts.

‘Oh no, it’s lovely,’ I smile
back at him, deciding I really must snap myself out of this mood I’m in and at the very least, be the model dinner guest, especially as he’s gone to all this trouble.  So I listen attentively as he tells me about his job in town.  And actually, once he gets started, I find he’s rather fond of talking about himself.  He’s a freelance writer, he tells me.  He used to write for motoring magazines but for a while, he’s been looking for a change. 

‘
I do find I get stifled, creatively, if I do the same thing for too long.  I’m sure you know what I mean…’ he says pompously, pausing to top our glasses up, while my eyes are glazing over with boredom.  ‘…And that’s not good for anyone, is it...  No, I firmly believe in spreading one’s wings, so to speak.  You have to try new things, don’t you think?  A mate’s offered me a job, actually.’

‘Oh?  What’s that?’ I
pretend to be riveted, feigning an interest I’m not feeling and thinking
Oh God.  He really is one of those boring twats who finds himself fascinating
…

‘Oh – er – on a small magazine.
  I don’t suppose you’ve heard of it…’

He doesn’t mention it again,
a fact for which I’m grateful, so I turn my attention to the food, which is sublime.  In fact, the whole vibe in here is cool.  But there’s one major problem.  The realisation has struck me that without my beer goggles, I don’t fancy Josh any more than I fancied Greg, simple as that.  And I know perfectly well he hasn’t an inkling, because in the past I’ve thrown myself at him – last time and the time before.  So I’ve only got myself to blame. 

By the time we’ve finished dinner
, I stifle a yawn, but he clearly has no intention of calling it a night.  Quite the opposite and as we step outside into the night air, he pulls me against him and holding me tightly, presses his lips on mine.  I wriggle uncomfortably and try to pull away, which he doesn’t like at all.

‘I thought you wanted that,’ he says – quite unpleasantly.  ‘You certainly made me think so.’

‘You know, Josh, I thought I did too.  But actually…’  I pin on a smile I’m not feeling, racking my brain for excuses, needing to get away from him. ‘I think it would be… a mistake.  You know – what with Johnny being your brother and Honey being my best friend, don’t you think it might be a little awkward?’ 

Which is complete r
ubbish, because if I really fancied him, Honey would be the last person I’d be thinking about, but I’m trying to do this graciously rather than tell him if he sticks his tongue down my throat again, I won’t be accountable for my actions.

For a moment, I think he’s going to get really stroppy, but then he says
ungraciously, ‘I suppose you want a lift home.’

‘No,
it’s okay,’ I tell him, not wanting to even be in a car with him.  Besides, he’s had too much to drink.  ‘I’ll get a cab.  I don’t want to ruin your night and I know you wanted to go on somewhere.  It’s fine.  Thank you for a lovely dinner.  And I’m really sorry, you know, but I really do have to go…’

By the time I’ve finished talking, I’ve turned away and am walking
quite fast up the high street, filled with a sense of relief, though far from pleased with myself, because there’s a pattern here.  I meet guys, even go on a date or two or three, leading them on then suddenly realising it’s all a terrible mistake.  And I’ve still no idea why.

And
as luck would have it, on this warm, balmy night, it seems every in-love couple from miles around has flocked to Tunbridge Wells.  Everywhere I look, they’re there, in all shapes and sizes, blissfully lovestruck and happily entwined, rather than itching to get away like I am.  They’re not all gorgeous looking, or fabulously interesting I’m sure - it’s something more elemental than that. Maybe to do with being happy in their skins or not having wild expectations.  Perhaps that’s my problem - that I always expect too much.

I flag down a taxi and as it drives me sedately home, I realise
that whatever my own failings, unlike his lovely brother, Josh really isn’t good company.  He’s got mean eyes and an equally mean spirit and showed no interest in me beyond making sure I got sloshed and he got his leg over.  And after the shenanigan with Greg, I’m realising that perhaps there ought be more a little more to it than too much to drink and casual sex if I’m ever going to meet the right one.