Yours Truly (36 page)

“
Um... did you sleep well?
”
Meg asks in an obvious attempt to change the subject.

“
Nah. I barely slept at all. I had sex with Riley.
”

Jesus. I'd almost forgotten about my treacherous
truth-
telling gob! And now, in less than five minutes, I'm asked a question that leads me to blurt out something I’d have much,
much
rather kept private.

The pair of them stare at me shocked. Dionne gasps, her hand shooting up to her mouth in dismay.

“
But…
Honey!
”

I put my head in my hands.
“
I know.
”

“
You’re a bitch!
”
she says, anger crossing her features.
“
He’s a rat. You’re a pair of…
bitch rats.
”

I’m stupidly surprised that Dionne’s so mad at me. But then I remembe
r that back when she was twenty-
one, one of
her
friends slept with her then boyfriend. She was heartbroken for weeks.

“
Please don’t tell her,
”
I plead.
“
It was just a one-
off. They've broken up and we were drunk!
”

“
It’s no excuse,
”
Dionne cries.
“
And Olly! He’s not even cold.
”

“
He’s not dead!
”

“
You know what I mean,
”
she hisses.

“
Please don’t tell her.
”

Dionne fumes at her cup of tea, while Meg remains mute. Shocked silent? Angry silent? I’m not sure.

Dionne pulls out her phone and fiddles with it absently.

“
I don’t even know where she is anyway.
”

“
What do you mean?
”

“
I went to Honey’s house this morning to see if she was okay after last night
-
”

Oh nice! No bothering about whether I’m okay after pervert Jasper lunged at me. I dismiss my irritation. I have absolutely no right to be feeling irritated right now.

“
- A
nd she wasn’t there. And she won’t answer her phone,
”
Dionne finishes.

Oh God. I hope she’s all right. What if she’s been kidnapped? Or is dead? And I was there shagging her one and only true love?

I shudder at the very thought and tell myself I’m being stupid. Honey will be fine.

“
Please don’t tell her when you see her.
”

Dionne slams her hand down on the table.

“
I’m going to take Jean-Paul Gaultier for a walk.
”

She gets up and after casting me the worst stink eye she may have ever cast at anyone, she stalks out of the pub to fetch Jean-Paul Gaultier from her room.

“
Jesus, Natalie,
”
Meg whispers as soon as Dionne’s gone.

“
I know,
”
I say, embarrassed.

“
Was it good?
”

Typical!

“
Yes,
”
I say, unable to help the grin that creeps stealthily across my face.
“
Incredible.
”

“
Well as I always say, the best way to get over someone is to get under somebody else.
”

“
Meg!
”
I admonish.

“
What! It’s not like Honey is anything other than a complete bitch. I wouldn’t feel bad.
”

I shrug. I do feel bad though.

“
Anyway, speaking of getting under people, I’m off to record!
”

I chew on some toast and look at her.

“
With Jasper? After what he did last night?
”

Meg looks nonchalant.

“
It’s not a big deal. You were both crazy drunk and we've all kissed someone we didn’t mean to before.
”

“
But
-
”

“
Oi, you!
D
on’t be tak
ing the moralistic high ground!
”
she frowns slightly.

I back down because she’s right. She's allowed to spend time with Jasper. Just because I don’t like him it doesn’t mean he’s a bad person.

“
I’ll probably be back late. I’m going to jam with Robbie later.
”

She looks embarrassed as she says it. I laugh out loud.

“
Wit woo?
”

“
He's a good singer. And he plays guitar well. He’s going to help me to write a song.
”

“
Fair enough,
”
I say, wondering why she would ever fancy Jasper when Robbie is clearly her perfect match.

“
What are you going to do?
”

I sigh.
“
I’ve got to look into cancelling the wedding arrangements. Mum and Olly are refusing to do it, which is fair enough…
”

“
Oh, Nat. That’s shitty.
”
She puts her hand over mine.

“
S’all right,
”
I say, in a voice that beli
es how rubbish I feel about it.
“
Anyway, I can’t do it until later; I promised Riley I’d teach him another dish today.
”

Meg shakes her head.
“
You’re a naughty girl, Nat. You’ve turned into a very naughty girl.
”

“
I know.
”

The kitchen is gorgeously warm and bright, the sun glinting in through the windows despite the white of the snow trying it’s very best to dampen the glow. Riley is sat at the table with a pot of coffee and is reading the newspaper. He’s dressed in a pair of baggy, black combat trousers and a snugly fitting charcoal cashmere sweater. My knees wibble slightly.

I really didn’t think this through. It’s been years since I’ve been in a morning after situation. What’s the etiquette? Do I acknowledge it? Say something jokey like
“
nice shag last night
”
? Or do I excuse it by diving in there with red-faced mutterings about how I was so totally horribly drunk last night?

In light of the wholly inappropriate situation, Dionne's horror at my behaviour, and the fact that I’ll be leaving here very soon, I decide to affect an air of complete professionalism and act as if nothing has happened. If he wants to bring it up then fine. But I won’t.

“
Hi there.
”
I am brisk. I am professional. I am cool. The coolest.

Riley looks me up and down and beams.

“
Hello,
”
he says in a low voice. A voice that makes me feel sensations far too rude for this early in the morning. Is it hot in here? Is the range on too high?

The coolest? Wow, I’m delusional. I’ve got no chance.

“
Here I am!
”
I almost shout, willing my voice not to betray me by
shaking or squeaking or saying
I like you far more than is necessary. I can’t believe we had sex
last night. Let’s do it again.

“
Yes…
here you are.
”

Riley doesn’t mention what went on in this very room last night, but the tension is so tangible that I can hear it crackling like a bowl of blummin
’ Rice Krispies. I
take a seat, plonk down the notebooks and
pens I’ve bought from the post o
ffice and pour myself a coffee. It’s hard to concentrate though; my hands are actually trembling as I recall what went on just over there on the floor. And over there up against that cupboard. And here on this very table…

“
Natalie?
”

Riley is looking at me, puzzled.

Oops. Got a bit carried away with the flashbacks there. I shake my head in an attempt to clear it, pick up a pen and tap it manically against the table.

Grinning, Riley takes the pen off me and places it back on the table.

How can he be so calm and normal? How can he be so calm and normal when
my
brain is taken up by images and whispers and filthy flashbacks from last night?

Does he not feel the tension? Oh shitbags. Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe I’m imagining it. It’s all one sided and last night for him, was just, let’s face it, an easy lay and he only said that stuff about us fitting so he could get into my pants again. And it worked, because he
did
get into my pants again. Fabulous. It’s all in my head. Like the time I was a bridesmaid for Auntie Jan when I was fifteen years old and I thought everyone was looking at me because I was wearing a peach satin dress and looked really pretty, when actually they were all looking at me because I had a porridge stain right in the middle of my boob area.

Fine.
Fine.
Why am I even worrying about it? It’s not like I want anything more with him anyways. I’m soooo not ready for anything more. I still love another man for Pete’s sake!

I sip at my coffee, willing myself to get focused and stop being such a flake. I’m an adult. A grown up adult woman. I had ill-informed sex with a man. It happens. It’s normal. It’s fine. Doesn’t mean I have to freak out and start
analysing
.

I clear my throat.
“
Okay.
”
I pull the lid off the pen, open a notebook and write
‘
Menu
’
in big capitals at the top of the page, underlining it four times.
“
Okay. Right. So, the food people know and love but at it’s very best.
”

“
Yup. The very best they’ve ever had,
”
Riley cuts in.

I stop short. I don’t think that was a double meaning, but the way he said it. His voice low and growly. I glance over at him but his eyes are focused on the notebook in front of us, his face the very picture of innocence.

“
Um, yes,
”
I carry on.
“
So I was thinking we could both offer our suggestions for starters, main courses and desserts, decide on a shortlist and try cooking some of them. Then maybe tomorrow, we can do a tasting session for locals in the pub. See what they think?
”

See, that wasn’t so hard. I’m as professional as a...
professor.

“
Sounds grand.
”

“
Right. Well let’s get to it. Chop chop! The sooner we get your menu decided the sooner I can create some initial recipes and the sooner you can start serving to the public.
”

And so we get to it. T
o a Spotify playlist of mid-
nineties R&B we drink coffee and scribble down ideas in the notebook. Riley suggests favourite dishes, I suggest how we could make them more exciting, the logistics of serving them every night, sourcing ingredients, how easy or difficult they are to perfect. Talking about food is one of my favourite things to do and Riley is obviously passionate about the pub so there is no awkwardness, in fact the conversation flows and trips over itself in the loveliest of ways. But still neither of us mentions last night.

We’ve managed to shortlist the menu choices to ten classic pub dishes for each course. Based on what we’ve managed to forage from the larder and the greenhouse I’ve decided to show Riley the recipe for Granny’s soup, my nan‘s actual recipe, and concoct new, more exciting ways of doing steak and chips and an egg custard des
s
ert. The exciting thing is that though each dish sounds the same as any other pub fare, we’re going to put little twists into each one so that each dish is tastier and more interesting than initially expected.

We’ve donned our aprons and are preparing our vegetables for the Granny’s soup. As we chop the holy trinity of carrots, celery and onion, with the music blasting out into the room and the sun sparkling through the huge snow dusted windows, it’s difficult not to be overcome with a feeling of utter wellbeing. Something about this situation, where I am at this very moment - feels good. And it’s for that reason that when Riley starts showing me the official dance to
I Wanna Sex You Up
by Colour Me Badd, I join in, asking him to teach it to me.