Bella Summer Takes a Chance Page 9

  When I returned to the living room, Fred was eyeing up Faith like she was, well, like she was a man. ‘B! Where have you been hiding this gorgeous woman? I cannot believe we haven’t met before this.’

  ‘B. never said you were so cute!’ She said.

  ‘Perhaps she wants to keep me to herself–’

  ‘No,’ I said, nipping their adorathon in the bud. ‘I’m quite happy to share. Frederick, this is my beautiful friend Faith. Faith, the spectacular Fred. Everybody happy now? Let’s go.’

  ‘Why doesn’t Frederick join us? If you don’t have other plans. We’re cooking our own lunch! Though hopefully that really means we’re watching professional chefs cook our lunch for us. It’s okay for him to come along isn’t it, B.?’

  ‘But it’s our girls’ night.’

  ‘It’s eleven a.m.,’ Fred pointed out.

  ‘Then it’s our girls’ morning. I’ll have to call the school to see if they can add one more person.’

  ‘Didn’t Clare text you?’ Faith asked. ‘She’s ill. Stomach bug. Frederick can take her place.’

  ‘Again? She must have picked something up in Barcelona. She should have it checked.’ There was something unsettlingly six-degrees-of-separation in the possibility that The Musician might eventually study my friend’s poo. Lately she’d spent more time in the loo at work than she had in the office. I wouldn’t have minded but we were in the midst of the last tidy-up on the project. That meant rushing around doing everything that we’d told the clients we’d already done. Without Clare to deflect Fiona’s vitriol, we all suffered. ‘Since we’ve already reserved her spot, Fred, interested in coming?’ It was a rhetorical question. He was already searching for his wallet, which he liked to hide around the flat so he could accuse me of moving it. We loved this game, we did.

  ‘Couldn’t be more interested, darling. Lead the way.’

  Some women collect shoes, or first editions, or unusual handbags. Faith was a collector of men. And like all dedicated enthusiasts, she loved each new addition as if it were her own offspring. Unlike dedicated enthusiasts, she expected these occasionally inanimate objects to love her back. I pulled her aside as Frederick stopped to get cash.

  ‘Faith, Frederick’s–’

  ‘So adorable! Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘No, I was going to say gay.’

  ‘He is not!’

  ‘Is.’

  ‘B., there’s no way he’s gay. Did you see the way he looked at me?’

  ‘It’s the same way he looks at cashmere and Häagen-Dazs. Faith, trust me, he’s gay.’

  ‘Has he told you that?’ She reapplied her lipstick.

  ‘No, he’s so far in the closet he’s behind the suitcases. But he is. He waxes.’

  ‘I appreciate a bit of man-scaping. Don’t worry about me, B., really, I’ll read the signals. Ready?’ She sang as Frederick approached, linking his arm through hers.

  ‘For you, darling, always.’

  As glad as I was to see Faith’s glass half full again, Frederick might prove one sip too far.

  How many chefs did it take to put out a tea towel? Just the one, as it turned out, and he didn’t look happy to play fire brigade.

  ‘Well, that was a bit of a drama,’ said Faith, unfazed at having set the kitchen alight. ‘Who’d have thought it’d go up like that? They should use inflammable cloths.’

  ‘They do, Schatzi.’

  ‘Well, obviously they don’t or it wouldn’t have caught fire.’

  ‘Never mind,’ said Kat patiently. ‘You must be more careful when you cook.’

  ‘But I don’t cook!’

  ‘That’s obvious,’ mumbled the middle-aged woman beside us, who hadn’t defrosted her face in nearly two hours.

  ‘Listen,’ I said to the kitchen harpy. ‘Just because my friend made a mistake doesn’t give you the right to be rude to her. We’re all here to learn.’ Reluctantly she went back to her measuring cups.

  ‘Thanks, B.,’ said Faith. ‘But she’s right, I think it’s pretty clear that I’m not cut out for kitchen work.’

  ‘None of us are, except Kat.’

  Kat grinned at me. ‘I do love cooking. Thanks, B., this was a great idea.’

  ‘Glad you’re enjoying it. I have to agree with Faith, though. I think it’s best that we all understand our roles in the food chain. You make the soufflé, I’ll make the reservations. Deal?’

  ‘Deal,’ said Kat.

  ‘I’m bored now,’ Faith said. ‘I’ll sit out the rest if that’s okay. Call me when lunch is ready. It will be ready soon, right? I have to go to the salon at three.’

  ‘Ooh, that sounds nice!’ Frederick said.

  ‘It won’t be. It’s for an assignment. I’m reporting on the experience of getting a Hollywood.’

  ‘What’s a Hollywood?’ Kat asked.

  ‘Faith’s going to have her lady garden waxed off,’ I said. ‘You do suffer for your art, Faith.’

  ‘Don’t I know it. This afternoon I’m paying money to let some sadist pull off all my pubic hair. The depths to which I’ll sink know no bounds. Still, it beats a desk job. I’ll be over there contemplating baldness if anyone wants me.’

  ‘I’ll join you,’ Frederick offered, glaring at our dour neighbour, who looked delighted to have overheard our discussion of nether fleeces.

  ‘They seem to like each other,’ Kat said, watching them trot to a bench on the other side of the industrial kitchen. ‘They only met this morning?’

  ‘Uh-huh. I don’t know why I never noticed it before. They’re two halves of the same person. Eerie, isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s nice when your friends like each other. Like us, our little group. Maybe Frederick is destined to become one of the girls.’

  ‘Exactly, one of the girls! He is gay, right? I’m not imagining things?’

  ‘You keep saying that, but I don’t think so. I think he’s simply debonair, like that man who decorates. The one with the giant cuffs and collars and the feathered hair.’

  ‘Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen?’

  ‘Exactly. He’s a dandy, that’s all.’

  ‘Hmm, I don’t know. That’s what he says, but Kat, he is such a girl.’

  ‘He doesn’t look like a girl.’ She nodded towards the bench where Faith and Frederick were pawing each other like grooming chimps. This had the potential for unhappy ending written all over it. We never, ever introduced Faith to anyone we knew, not after the fiasco with Kat’s brother-in-law.

  I got to the opera house a few minutes early, just as sunset was adding its finishing touches to the March sky. Mattias was already there. ‘You look lovely,’ he said, appraising my dress.

  ‘Thanks, you clean up okay too.’ Urban planners weren’t known for their cutting-edge fashion, so any attempts to clothe themselves were to be encouraged. Mattias wore his only suit. We’d picked it out for our first wedding together. He’d sat in gum on the bus ride to the church and I spent a good part of the reception with my hand clenched full of ice against his backside, trying to dislodge it.

  He took my proffered cash when he handed me my ticket. ‘Thanks. I really owe you one,’ he said. ‘Though it’s not exactly hardship duty to see Swan Lake, and the clients are very nice.’ He steered me towards the foyer where we were to meet them.

  I didn’t point out that, ballet or not, nice clients or not, I was still giving up my Saturday night. I didn’t point it out because my alternative was watching Britain’s Got Talent with Frederick. He didn’t need to know that sniping at teenagers’ off-tune singing had become the highlight of my social life.

  He was right, though, it was an easy assignment. The clients were perfectly friendly, and we had only a few minutes to kill in small talk before we were transported into Tchaikovsky’s magical world. The score made me cry, as it always did. Especially that haunting clarinet at the start of act two.

  ‘Wasn’t that wonderful!’ The client’s wife enthused during the interval. ‘Mattias, thank you again for inviti
ng us. Do you two go to the ballet often?’

  I was about to set the record straight when Mattias said, ‘Not as often as we’d like to. It’s a rare treat, and fantastic to see such talent, isn’t it? What did you think, B.? Did you know that B. is a musician too?’ He draped an arm over my shoulder and squeezed me to him. ‘She’s a singer.’

  They made appreciative noises and bound me tightly in their well-meaning questions. I caught Mattias’ eye but he looked away. Cheeky sod. He knew I couldn’t set the record straight about us without making everyone uncomfortable. Fine by me. My anger was best served cold. And away from the public gaze.

  ‘Mattias,’ I said as soon as we’d said goodbye to the clients. ‘Why did you say that about us going to the ballet? You implied that we were still together.’

  ‘Would you rather I tell people I hardly know that you dumped me because I wasn’t romantic enough for you?’

  I was taken aback by his anger. ‘I–’

  He shook his head. ‘I’m only kidding. I know that wasn’t the reason. It just didn’t seem appropriate to go into all that. It was easier to answer their question the way they expected. I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to do that. Will you let me buy you a drink as an apology?’

  He elbowed me gently, like he used to do to jostle me out of a grumpy mood. It was very hard to hold on to righteous indignation in the face of such peaceful disarmament. As he well knew. ‘No, I need to go.’ Better not to risk another easy, comfortable night that would only give him the wrong idea. No matter how easy and comfortable it would be to stay. This was a nice evening, just two friends going to the ballet together. ‘Thanks again for inviting me along. I really enjoyed it.’

  ‘Just one drink?’

  I ignored his disappointment. ‘No, thanks. I’ll head home. I was at a cooking class with the girls today. I’m exhausted, really. Walk me to the Tube?’

  He smiled at the mention of my friends as we wound our way through Covent Garden’s crowds. ‘How is everyone? I miss getting all the details. Has Faith found a suitable boyfriend yet?’

  What a gossip he was. ‘No, not yet, but she’s as hopeful as ever. Today she seemed to hit it off with my flatmate, and she thinks he’s gorgeous.’ His face went taut. ‘But she’s barking up the wrong tree because, as you know, he doesn’t like girls.’ When I first moved in with Fred, I made sure that Mattias knew I wasn’t moving in with a potential lover. It was hard enough for him without that added worry. ‘Besides, unleashing her on any of my friends would be a disaster. Remember James’ brother.’

  ‘I’d rather not, thanks. James is still bitter that she told everyone.’ We’d arrived at the station. ‘Thanks, B., this was fun. I hope we can do it again sometime.’ He kissed me on the cheek. Very close to my mouth. ‘Keep Faith away from your flatmate if you can. You won’t want to know that much detail about him, trust me.’

  I couldn’t agree more. Everyone enjoyed the titillation of hearing about a friend’s date’s failings, unless they also involved a friend. In the case of Kat’s brother-in-law, it was even more uncomfortable when said failing involved an anatomical, ehem, shortcoming. Though Kat swore it wasn’t one that ran in the family. I’d been very relieved to hear that, given that James was my idea of the perfect man.

  Chapter 9

  After more than a week had passed I knew I needed James’ advice about The Musician. As the only man in my life who wasn’t a) related to me, b) my ex or c) completely ill-equipped to advise on matters of the heart (Fred), I didn’t have much choice.

  ‘Kat tells me your love life is hotting up,’ he said while stirring the risotto, brandishing the stock ladle with Rick Stein’s poise. He was a true Renaissance Man. He cooked, he cleaned, he wasn’t afraid of tampons.

  ‘More like it’s burnt out.’

  ‘Oh no! Why’s that? I thought you liked that bass player from the wedding. What’s happened?’

  ‘Ugh, I do like him. That’s the problem. I slept with him.’ Why did I feel like I’d confessed to public masturbation? Because slappers got judged, even by their friends.

  He shrugged. ‘And?’

  ‘And what? It was good.’ I sexually paraphrased for the sake of brevity. I probably needed to discuss The Musician’s desire for stage directions with someone, but it wasn’t going to be with the Galloping Gourmet.

  ‘Then what’s the problem? That sounds like a good thing.’

  He didn’t have the first idea what he was talking about.

  Kat exclaimed, ‘James, you know nothing! Of course it’s not a good thing. Tell him, B.’

  Sigh. ‘He’s not getting in touch. I haven’t heard from him since we last saw each other. I emailed him yesterday but maybe he doesn’t check his email every day?’

  ‘If he has a smartphone or a Blackberry, then he’s read it. Is that the only time you emailed him?’ I nodded. ‘The only time you contacted him, B.?’

  ‘Well, no. I texted him after I left to say thanks. You know, just to be courteous. And he texted back. So I texted back.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘He didn’t text back.’

  ‘Come on, B.,’ he said. ‘I know you. When else?’

  Close friendships sometimes had their drawbacks. ‘Well, I did leave a voicemail, but only because we were trying to remember the name of a pub, and I remembered it.’

  ‘What else did you say in the message?’

  ‘Nothing, just that I hoped his gig would go well. And that if he ever wanted to go to the pub, I could be persuaded.’

  James didn’t have to say what he was thinking.

  ‘You’re right, I’ve blown it. He thinks I’m a crazy stalker person. Besides, what incentive does he have to get to know me now? We’ve already slept together. He’s got what he wants.’

  Kat said helpfully, ‘They don’t buy the milk when the cow comes free.’

  ‘Darling, the cow – they don’t buy the cow when the milk comes free.’

  ‘Yes, that’s what I’ve said. B., you gave away your milk.’

  ‘I played this stupid. He’ll never get in touch.’

  ‘I think he will,’ James said. ‘I know exactly what he’s thinking. Trust me, he’ll be in touch.’

  ‘How do you know what he’s thinking?’

  ‘This may have escaped your notice, but I am a man. You said the sex was good, right? Granted, it was a mistake to be in touch so much, and definitely a mistake to call him and offer to meet up whenever he wants. You’ve told him you’re available to him, so he won’t prioritize you. He knows he can have you, so to speak, any time he wants. You need to be unavailable.’

  ‘How do I let him know I’m unavailable when he isn’t calling?’

  ‘Don’t call him. Don’t email, don’t text. No contact. Eventually he’ll start thinking “I wonder what happened to B.? I haven’t heard from her in awhile.” And then he’ll think, “The sex was really good.” And he’ll be in touch.’

  ‘For sex.’

  He nodded.

  ‘But I don’t just want to have sex with him.’

  ‘B., you’ve got to understand how a man’s mind works. Sex is the goal. Honestly, it’s a numbers game for us. We’ll sleep with as many women as we can. Before we develop feelings, I mean. Feelings come way after sex for us. That’s the irony. When you sleep with a bloke, it’s an emotional act. For us, it’s just physical. I really do think he’ll be in touch again. So play it cool when he does call. Tell him you’ve been busy and when he asks you out, say you’d like to see him but you’re busy on this, this and this night, but free on that night. He’s the man, he should do the pursuing. Trust me, he’ll chase if you’re unavailable. Dating is all a bit of a game. Like it or not, you have to play if you want to date. So let him pursue you a bit. The more available you make yourself, the less likely he is to prioritise seeing you, because he knows he can see you anytime he’s free. Play him at his own game, don’t contact him and let him arrange the next meeting. When he hears you’ve
been busy he’ll re-prioritise you in his mind without even realising it.’

  I knew he knew what he was talking about. He had a penis, after all. ‘And if he gets in touch and we go out? Don’t sleep with him, right?’

  ‘You can sleep with him if you want to, as long as that doesn’t make you emotionally attached to him. But maybe try meeting on neutral ground and getting to know each other a bit better. If he doesn’t want to do that, then he’s just in it for the sex and if that’s not what you want, at least you know and don’t have to waste your time with him. And call me before you answer him when he gets in touch. I’ll advise.’

  He kept saying ‘when’. I couldn’t let myself think beyond ‘if’. ‘Did you have to play these games, Kat, you and James?’

  ‘No,’ he said.

  ‘Of course, Suesse,’ she interrupted. James gaped at his wife. ‘James, darling, don’t look so surprised. You didn’t really think you were in control, did you?’

  ‘Well, I did until now. What games were you playing?’ His tone was teasing but his question, I could see, was serious.

  ‘Oh goodness, I don’t remember now, it was so long ago. Little ones only, Liebchen, don’t worry. You didn’t marry me under any false pretences.’

  His squinting gaze told me he wasn’t so sure. ‘James,’ I said. ‘Tell me about when you met Kat. How did you know you were in love?’ Kat might not admit it, but James would.

  ‘You know we met in a bar. I saw her across a crowded room.’

  ‘You spilled a drink on me.’

  ‘But I saw you first. Then I spilled a drink on you.’

  ‘You touched my breast.’

  ‘Only to clean up the drink, darling. You were soaked. She was soaked.’

  ‘I thought he was immature.’

  ‘I thought you were pretty.’

  ‘You were drunk. You thought everyone was pretty. He asked for my number. And he asked my friend.’

  ‘For your number?’

  ‘For her number. She said no.’

  ‘James!’ I said. ‘Two-timing at the first meeting?’