Confessions of a Serial Dater (20 page)

I’m trying to distract myself.

Vauxhall is nowhere
near
Paddington.

So Charlie and Lewis must be visiting someone else, but why wouldn’t Charlie just have told me? Or maybe one of them is sick—I cut off that thought.

“Well, that’s lovely. Isn’t that lovely, Lewis?”

“Oh, yes. Babies—adorable creatures.”

“Um, everything alright?” I ask, not wanting to borrow trouble.

“We were just, hahahaha, you know, visiting a sick friend,” Charlie says in a rush, pinning an overly bright smile on his face. “Yes, um, after I got back from Vauxhall, I had a message from, oh, remember our friend June from the Horse and Feathers? Well, we thought we’d better drop by and say hello, and here we are,” he says, and the smile falls from his face.

And I know that he’s lying. He’s a terrible liar.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Lewis tells him, squeezing his arm, and then he smiles. “Which is one of the reasons I love you, but Rosie’s a good friend.”

“But I thought you didn’t want anyone to—” Charlie begins, and breaks off, which is a shame, because I thought I was about to find out whatever it is that Charlie thinks Lewis doesn’t want me to know.

On the other hand, what I don’t know can’t hurt me, right?

God, I am such a coward. I’ll only fret that it’s something terrible if they don’t tell me anyway.

“Um, whatever it is, if you want to talk about it, then fine. On the other hand, I’ll just mind my own business and never mention it again,” I say, in as much of a rush as Charlie was just now. I know my expression is full of worry, because full of worry is exactly what I am.

“Rosie, look,” Lewis begins, then smiles at me. “I think we could do with somewhere a bit more private for this.”

The middle of a busy street isn’t a good place to receive bad news, is it? Because I think that’s exactly the kind of news they have.

“You’d better visit Elaine first,” Charlie tells me. “Why don’t you come over to my place afterwards. I’ll cook supper. Then we can talk.”

“Okay.” Oh, I just know this is going to be bad.

“Rosie—stop frowning—and stop worrying.” Lewis gives
my arm a friendly squeeze, and impulsively, I lean across and kiss his cheek.

“Thank you,” Lewis smiles gently.

“I’ll see you both in a bit,” I say, also kissing Charlie on the cheek.

“I think you had a point about unexciting sex,” Carmen tells me, Flora and Jess on Saturday night as she lowers herself rather gingerly into a deck chair on Flora and Ned’s patio.

“I didn’t say unexciting sex,” I say. “I meant comfort—as in doing it in bed. Don’t put words in my mouth.” Although I wouldn’t mind a bit of any kind of sex, unexciting or not, because it’s been a long time.

“What happened?” Flora asks her. “Wasn’t the minibreak all you imagined it would be?”

Paul, who is currently in charge of the pork chops, has also been, shall we say, rather gingerly sitting down, too, now that I come to think about it.

In a bid to be more exciting and spontaneous, he conspired with Carmen’s assistant so that he could whisk Carmen away on a spontaneously exciting minibreak in Norfolk.

Actually, it’s another Amélie coup on my part. Paul and I had a little chat about lack of spontaneity, and how worried he was about not having any, and I suggested a surprise minibreak. But no one else has to know…

Anyway, they only got back this afternoon, so we haven’t had the chance to catch up yet.

“Oh, it was exciting, alright. He took me on a surprise picnic this lunchtime—champagne, lovely gourmet food followed by open-air sex,” Carmen tells us, and I’m a bit envious, because that sounds really romantic. Plus, I miss sex…

“That sounds really romantic,” I tell her. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing—except, in the heat of passion, we rolled over rather vigorously into a patch of nettles.”

“Ouch,” Flora says and bursts into a long, gusty laugh.

“Oh. My. God,” I say, and I can’t help it—I’m laughing too, and so is Jess.

“Traitors,” Carmen tells us, but she is laughing too.

“What’s so funny?” Ned calls across from his place by the burgers.

“Yes, don’t feel you have to keep it to yourselves,” Charlie tells us. “I hate to miss a good joke.”

“Just ask Paul about the picnic,” Flora tells them, a warm gleam in her eye as she looks at her one-month husband. “Hmm, I may have to try that myself,” she says. “But without the nettles part.”

“Are vicars, you know, allowed to have sex out of wedlock?” Jess asks. Then blushes. “Oh, Flora, I didn’t mean anything by that. Nothing at all.”

“Dear girl, don’t you worry about a thing,” Flora laughs, then changes the subject because she is very good at making people feel better. “By the way, I love the sweater you made for Philip. It’s just the ticket.”

“Thank you,” Jess beams, glancing across to Philip, who is helping the men with the barbecue.

His sweater is black, with a white neck, and on the front it says God Is Groovy. He hasn’t taken it off since he opened the gaily wrapped packet, even though it is, strictly speaking, a bit too warm for a sweater. Especially standing so close to the barbecue.

It’s been completely sweet watching them together tonight. I just hope Philip takes the hint from all the doe eyes, and touching, and flirting from Jess, and asks her out. They’re two such caring people—they’d be perfect for each other.

Talking about caring makes me glance at Charlie and Lewis, and I have to bite my lip to stop myself from laughing.

To think on Wednesday I jumped to all the most horrible conclusions about why, exactly, they were visiting the hospital. I mean, it’s easy to do, isn’t it, jumping to all the most horrible conclusions? Especially in this day and age. I think, sometimes, that I worry too much. Oh, I am such an idiot!

You see, I needn’t have worried at all…

Lewis, apparently, has a large mole in an extremely, um, private place. At least, he used to have a large mole in an extremely private place. Before his trip to the hospital last week. Charlie, because he’s so caring (and because he can be a bit of a worrier, a bit of a mother hen at times), swore that the mole was getting larger, and so Lewis, who’s had the mole for oh, his entire life, said it really hadn’t changed, but because he loves Charlie, and because Charlie was uberly fretful about it, Lewis agreed to have said mole removed.

Result: a benign nonmole in an extremely private place. Which is a lot embarrassing, and which is exactly why Lewis didn’t want anyone to find out about it.

I’m sworn to secrecy.

Charlie catches me watching him and gives me a quizzical smile. I beam back at him and cough to hide my laughter.

“Here we go,” Lewis tells me, handing me and Carmen plates of food, and I immediately take a bite of sausage. If I concentrate on the food, maybe I won’t dissolve in a fit of giggles…

“Everything alright, Rosie?” Lewis asks me. “Sausage not too—big?” he teases.

“Mmmm,” I mumble, and as Lewis winks at me, I stuff even more sausage into my mouth.

“And two more,” Philip says, handing one to Flora, and another to Jess. “Gosh, I just love this sweater, Jess,” he tells her for the millionth time tonight.

“Well, I made it especially for you,” she tells him, also for the millionth time tonight, as she bats her eyelashes at him.

Go Jess,
I think.

“So, dear friends, now that you’re all completely familiar with every single detail of our sex lives,” Paul says as he raises his glass of Pimm’s, and we all laugh with him, “I feel that I should be the one to tell you that Carmen, my lovely girlfriend, has finally consented to commit.”

“Hey, buddy, you’re raining on my parade,” Carmen objects, but we can see she doesn’t mean it, because she’s laughing, too.

“After my valiant struggle with the nettles, I feel I deserve to have a somewhat more memorable moment of glory,” Paul says. “So, raise your glasses and mark your calendars for one month from today at Marylebone Registry Office.”

“Congratulations to Paul for finally getting his Carmen,” Charlie says midst the cheers, and good wishes, and congratulations and clinking of Pimm’s glasses. “But darling, why the hurry? Is there something you’re not sharing with us?” is Charlie’s immediate reaction as he glances at her midriff.

“Hey, don’t give Paul ideas,” Carmen tells him. “I’m marrying him, not signing a breeding contract.”

“Quick, because I wanted a ring on her finger before she could change her mind,” Paul jumps in. “An event that we hope you, our dear friends, will share with us, and then partake of a delicious curry at the Bengal Tiger afterwards.”

Only Carmen and Paul would have a quickie wedding followed by a curry.

“I love it, love it,” Jess says, clapping her hands.

“It’s so
you,
” I tell Carmen.

“Excuse me, but while we’re sharing good news,” Charlie pings the side of his glass with his fork, “Lewis and I would like to invite you all over for a delicious dinner sometime in the very near future to celebrate the purchase of our house.”

“Et tu, Charlie?” Carmen throws back her head. “Finally,
another lost soul joining the ranks of the sensible home-owning brigade.”

“Well, he had to grow up sooner or later,” Lewis shakes his head. “Before you know it we’ll be like an old, no-hope married couple,” he says, but we can see that he doesn’t mean it because he’s never looked happier.

He looks across at me and smiles even more widely, and he winks again.

“So, while we’re at it with the good news, any more takers?” Ned asks. “Any more weddings, living together or nettle stories?”

“Not me,” Philip shakes his head. “I can’t even get a date for the garden party next month.”

“Well, what about me?” Jess asks. “You haven’t asked me, and I’d love to be your date.”

“Would you?”

“Absolutely.”

Actually, with all this coupledom and happiness around me, I’m feeling like a bit of a spare part. As if I’m that kid standing with her face against the window of the sweet shop but don’t have the money to go in.

“How about you, Rosie?” Charlie says, more than a little flushed with the heat and the Pimm’s. “Any new doctors on the horizon in Piccadilly Circus, these days?”

I’m just never going to live that down.

“No, not a doctor in sight,” I tell them. “But I am having dinner with Jonathan tomorrow night.”

I am nearly late. I am so nearly late, which I hate, I think, as I squeeze my feet into the only shoes I could find to go with my dusky pink dress. They are, naturally, not wide enough, and I foresee yet another day of tortured feet ahead of me.

My alarm failed on today, of all days.

Or rather, I failed to set it correctly, so instead of getting up at eight-thirty and having a good hour and a half to get myself ready and out of the house, I woke up at nine-thirty because I had a late night.

It is now three minutes after ten, and where’s the bloody cab? Why is everything conspiring against me? I grab my purse and dash down the stairs.

“You’re going to be late.” Colin states the obvious in his deadpan voice as he eats toast and reads the Sunday papers at my kitchen table.

“Thank you for that,” I tell him a bit sarcastically and dial the cab company’s number. I booked a cab for ten sharp, but it’s still not here. Okay, so I was not quite ready at ten sharp, but that’s hardly the point.

“If you’d had an earlier night, you wouldn’t be in such a rush,” Colin tells me as the man on the phone assures me that my cab is on its way. God, living with Colin is almost like living with my mother.

“Not that it’s any of my business, but maybe you should have stayed over at Jonathan’s last night,” Colin adds unhelpfully.

I wish I
had
stayed over at Jonathan’s place last night, but I just thought it would be easier for me, getting ready in my own home.

I went out on another date with Jonathan last night.

Yes, another date with Jonathan, because we’re back together again. Over the past eleven weeks we’ve slipped right back into our old relationship, minus the Sidney portion, obviously.

I think our time apart really helped me realize how dear he is to me and how well suited we are, because if anything, I’m fonder of him than ever.

“Or you could have asked Jonathan to stay over here,” says Colin, whose presence is the
exact reason
I didn’t ask Jonathan to stay over, and I take a deep breath to stop myself from screaming.

Call me old fashioned if you like, but having Jonathan to stay while Colin is in the house would be rather like having my boyfriend stay over at my parents’ house. Even if sex were a remote possibility, which it’s not, on account of my walls being too thin.

“Any luck with the apartment hunting?” I ask, just a bit pointedly. “Anything leap out of the classified section?”

Colin shows no sign of moving out, because all the apartments he’s checked out are just not quite right apparently.

“They’re just not quite right,” Colin sighs. “Just say if I’m in the way,” he adds, and I feel guilty. “I know it’s a bit difficult, what with you and Jonathan being together, but I’m not a prude.”

No, that would be me,
I think as a cab horn honks.

Finally.

“Of course you’re not in the way,” I lie, heading for the door. “Will you be in later?”

“Yes.”

I don’t know why I asked, because Colin doesn’t go out anywhere. He’s a homebody, but it’s just awkward, because there’s never any peace and quiet. Oh, he’s not noisy, it’s just that he talks all the time. Even if we’re watching a movie, he feels the need to either (a) give me a running commentary on what happens, because he’s seen it before, or (b) give me a running commentary on what he
thinks
might happen, because he
hasn’t
seen it before.

Sometimes, sometimes, I just
wish
I could have a quiet evening home on my own. Or in my home with Jonathan.

Thank God I don’t have to collect Mum and Granny Elsie,
I think as I jump in the cab and give the driver the address of the church.

“Don’t be silly, darling,” she said on the phone yesterday when I called her to check. “I’m a grown woman, a working woman, you know, and I’m perfectly capable of organizing a cab,” she told me. She emphasizes the working woman part practically every time I speak to her.

Actually, that was rather a coup on my part.

Or rather Mrs. Granville-Seymour’s part. Mrs. G-S, you
see, has an elderly aunt living in a mansion on Hampstead Heath, and she just happened to mention, when calling me to sing Jess’s praises regarding care of dear Maxie, that the poor old dear had problems with her eyesight, and wouldn’t it be nice if I could find someone to sit with her several afternoons a week, just for a couple of hours?

Oddly, although Maxie obviously requires someone of degree standard to converse with him, her aunt does not. So I suggested Mum. Mum loves it because (a) it’s close to home, and (b) she has a captive audience to talk to.

Actually, Mum’s become quite fond of Colin since he moved in with me. She often calls for a chat with him instead of me.

At last.
Thank fuck,
I think as the cab driver pulls up at the church. I’m only a few minutes late. I am in such a fluster that I just thrust a pile of notes at the cab driver, jump out of the cab, and make a dash for the church steps.

And because I am so worried about being late, I am not being particularly observant, so when I arrive at the church door and find Luke arriving at exactly the same time, it’s quite a shock.

Luke, whom I have not seen since the night of Ned and Flora’s wedding, when I practically closed the door on him before he was out of Mum’s house.

God, he looks gorgeous,
is my first thought, as I’m suddenly hotter. But it’s August, so hot is okay, I can get away with hot. Oh, but why does he have to look so fabulous in formal clothes?

“Oh, it’s you,” is again the first thing to come out of my mouth. I should just glue my lips together and save myself the embarrassment.

“Yes,” he says, giving me a very faint smile as his sardonic eyebrow does its thing. “I think we can safely say that it is, in
fact, me,” he adds, and my heart leaps as I’m reminded of the first two times we met, when Luke was an unknown, exciting risk, instead of a lying adulterer.

“Well,” I say, speechless. Because (a) I’m puzzled as to why he would even be at Baby Becky’s christening, and (b) I’m grateful for the way he helped Mum at Flora and Ned’s wedding.

“You’re looking as gorgeous as ever,” he tells me, and before I can be either (a) thrilled, because this lying charmer still has the power to weaken my knees, or (b) furious, because he has the nerve to say so, he does that thing of his and changes the subject on me. “How’s your mother?” he asks.

“Better,” I say, a seething mass of nerves as I look down at my pinchy shoes. “Inside the church right now, I hope. Um, Dr. Miller’s been great,” I babble. “Really great. Thanks for referring Mum.”

“My pleasure. Nice shoes,” he says, his eyes crinkling a little, and I nearly forget to breathe.

“Thank you.”

“Tight shoes?” he asks, smiling faintly.

And I’m about to tell him that yet again I have been lured into wearing shoes that are too tight, because these pink suede pumps are the only ones I could find that match my pale pink linen dress, and then I remember that we’re not exactly friends, so I shut my mouth.

“Well, I expect we’d better go inside,” he says, and for a moment I’m completely disappointed that he doesn’t want to waste any more time speaking to me. Then I remember that we’re late.

“God, I hate being late,” I say without thinking.

“One of those mornings, was it?”

“The radio alarm.”

“A-ha. Now I understand. How’s your plumbing?” he asks, reaching for the heavy, old-fashioned handle.

And God, I just can’t help it. The mere mention of my plumbing takes me right back to that night, and if it’s possible, I get even hotter.

Before he can open the door, and before I can say anything, it’s pushed outward, and Jonathan is in front of me.

“There you are,
chérie,
” he says, bending to kiss my cheek. “I was getting worried about you.”

“I had trouble with the cab,” I say, aware of Luke’s eyes on us.

“You should have stayed at my place last night,” Jonathan smiles. “Never mind, you’re here now,” he adds, looking at me as if the sun shines out of me. Which is lovely, and warming, and makes me feel wanted. “You look lovely,” he tells me.

“Um, thank you.” And then Jonathan notices Luke.

“Luke, hello,” he says, offering a hand. “Great to see you again. Your lovely lady wife not with you today?”

Yet again I’m reminded of why Luke is a dangerous quantity. Yet again, the familiar old guilt at having betrayed Rowan fills me with shame. Yet again, I feel awful for not calling her about the fund-raiser after Ned and Flora’s wedding. I just couldn’t do it.

“She couldn’t make it,” Luke says.

Ah. That old story.

I tuck my arm into Jonathan’s arm, and we walk into the church.

“Well, I think that all went off rather well, considering the last-minute arrangements, don’t you?” Philip asks me.

Now that Baby Becky has been blessed in church with holy water, we are all blessing her in Auntie Pat and Uncle Bill’s drawing room, with Auntie Pat and Uncle Bill’s gourmet buffet. And their fine wines.

“You were wonderful.” I pat Philip’s arm. “Absolutely word perfect.”

“Still a bit shocked that she asked me to do the honors,” he
says, shaking his head. “I’ve never been one of her favorite people.”

“Me neither.” I take two glasses of Chardonnay from the passing waiter and hand one to Philip. “But then, today has been another day of surprises.”

Apart from the Luke surprise, that is. I’m steering clear of him as much as possible. And since Elaine seems to be monopolizing him, that’s been quite easy. Actually, Elaine seems very fond of him…

Since the birth of Becky ten weeks ago, she seems to have undergone a personality meltdown for real, this time. Maybe it was having Becky three and a half weeks premature, and Becky’s having to stay in the neonatal baby unit until she gained a bit more weight. Elaine probably bumped into Luke quite a lot, come to think of it.

“I, personally, wouldn’t be at all surprised if Elaine had been abducted by aliens and they carried out an experimental personality change on her,” Jess says, and I reconcentrate on the conversation. No more thoughts about Luke.

“Interesting theory,” Philip says, shaking his head.

“Do you know, that’s exactly what I was thinking.” I swallow the last of my first glass of Chardonnay. The first of several, today, I feel. “It would certainly explain that emotional scene in church where she asked me to be second godmother.”

Apparently her friend Pookie was supposed to do the honors, but due to an unforeseen accident involving a pair of skis and a patch of black ice, she couldn’t make it. So I could hardly say no, seeing as Elaine sprang it on me in front of the entire family.

“Don’t get too emotional about it,” Carmen says bluntly as she joins us. “For godmother, read free babysitter. And the fact that Elaine invited us all to the christening is pretty surreal.”

“Well, it did cross my mind that she might have some star
tling announcement to make that would somehow belittle me, or Philip, or Flora in the eyes of our peers, but that would be completely fucking psychotic of me,” I say bluntly, and Jonathan gasps and nearly spills his drink.

But on the other hand, I truly wonder if it’s because she really doesn’t seem to have any friends of her own.

My friends all decided to attend, anyway. I suspect that Auntie Pat and Uncle Bill’s munificent hospitality has something to do with their presence. As Carmen quite bluntly pointed out, Sunday afternoons tend to be a bit boring, so they might as well avail themselves of the lovely food and drink.

“I thought you got on well with her,” Jonathan says.

“You
are
kidding, right?” Carmen jumps straight in. “Did Rosie not tell you what happened on her twenty-first birthday?”

“Oh, let’s not rehash old history.” I drink more of the Chardonnay. “At least Harry isn’t here today, which is a relief.”

“That’s the chap from Ned and Flora’s wedding, right?” Jonathan frowns.

“Ex-boyfriend of Rosie’s,” Carmen explains.

“Well, I knew that part.”

“Rosie caught him with Elaine,” Carmen adds. “More specifically, in a bedroom.”

“No.” Jonathan’s face has gone quite pale. “That’s—”

“It’s okay, darling, it was years ago.” I squeeze his hand. “Thank you for getting upset on my behalf, but I’m over it.”

“Your cousin is surreal,” Charlie says as he and Lewis also join us. “I nearly fainted when she kissed me and Lewis and wished us all the happiness in the world.”

I think that Elaine’s world must be pretty lonely.

“What are we talking about?” Flora asks as she and Ned arrive.

“Elaine being surreal.”

“You know what? I think she’s just lonely,” Flora tells us in her matter-of-fact voice. “Think about it—today, of all days, her friends should have been there for her. Especially Justin and Portia Landsdowne. I mean, very bad form not turning up when she’d asked them to be godparents.”

Apparently dear Justin and dear Portia had to attend some deadly dull but vital garden party at the French embassy, so they couldn’t make it, either.

“Speaking of aliens,” Jess, a few beats behind the conversation, says to Philip, “did I ever tell you about my alien abduction experience in college?”

“No, truly?” Philip’s eyes widen with amusement.

The vicarage garden party was a huge success. Jess, to get into the role, started attending every single one of Philip’s sermons, just to prepare herself. But since the garden party, she’s kept it up. She even helps with the church flowers. Philip is a doomed man, I think, but in a very good kind of way.

“Do you want to hear about it? I mean, it wouldn’t be, like, some blasphemous thing against God, or anything, would it?” Jess frowns.

“Absolutely not, dear girl,” Philip beams at her. “Come on, let’s go find somewhere to sit, and you can tell me every single detail.”

“You know, it could also have been those strange herbal cigarettes my roommate smoked,” Jess says, as they wander out of the French windows and onto the lawn.

“They are just so perfect for each other,” Charlie sighs, and we all sigh too, because he’s right. “Anyway, while we’re talking of perfect,” Charlie says, “we’ve painted, we’ve sanded, we’ve fixed. The house is done to perfection.”