Confessions of a Serial Dater (22 page)

“No,” I tell him, getting hotter by the minute. “But I’ll work on her.”

“Right, right.”

For the next few minutes we work in tandem in a vacuum of speech, my brain totally befuddled and confused as I wonder
why
he’s helping me, and how I can best explain the situation to Carmen.

“Darling, I wondered where you’d
gotten
to,” Elaine, a vision in pale blue silk, says to Luke as she comes into the
kitchen. “Oh, you’re helping with the
cooking?
I thought you’d been taking
lessons,
Rosie,” she says, following it with her tinkly little laugh, somehow managing to make me sound inept. “Luke, you’re supposed to be a
guest.
I’m sure Rosie can
manage.
In fact, I’ll help, too, if you like?”

“That would be lovely, but we don’t want you to spoil that beautiful dress with spaghetti sauce,” Luke tells her, and Elaine takes a step backward, her face a picture of horrification at the thought. “However, instead, could you be an angel and tell everyone to take their places? The food is on its way,” he smiles at her fondly.

And I remind myself that Luke and Elaine are together, just like Jonathan and I are together. Which is good. Great.

“Right, how about we serve in here?” he asks me as he drains pasta and I retrieve the sauce tureens from the oven. “I’ll dish up the pasta, you ladle on the sauce, and I’ll be waiter. Does that sound okay?”

“That sounds great. Why
are
you helping me?” I blurt.

“Well, I know how daunting it is to cook for so many, and I have previous experience roommating with a gregarious Australian in med school who regularly invited twenty fellow students for Saturday-night pasta. And besides,” he adds quietly, “it’s your engagement party, and so far you’ve spent it slaving away the entire day in the kitchen, I would guess. Plus,” he goes on, wielding two plates of pasta for me to cover in sauce, “I, um, owe you one. I’m—sorry about what happened. The lack of communication. I should never have—” He breaks off and takes a deep breath.

“
We
should never have. Consider it forgotten.” I’m aiming for cheerful and unconcerned, but instead I sound like a mouse on speed.

“I didn’t mean it quite—” He pauses, sighs, and looks down at me. And then closes his mouth as Jonathan comes bustling into the kitchen.

“Do we have any more red wine?” Jonathan asks, and the moment is lost. Which is just as well, because I’m not sure that I want to hear what Luke has to say.

The spaghetti is a success. Well, not exactly perfect, but it is, at least, entirely edible. As is the chocolate mousse that I made this morning and carefully spooned into nineteen small bowls.

And as my friends and family eat, drink and raise their glasses to the chef and to the happy couple, I’m strangely sad at Luke’s last words.

That he regrets having gotten involved, however briefly, with me. That he regrets having slept with me.

Of course, I regret it, too. Of course I do.

“If I was thirty or so years younger, I’d give you a run for your money,” Granny Elsie cackles, batting her eyelashes and clacking her false teeth as she flirts with Luke. “Or offer to show you my garden gnomes, or something.”

“Why let a couple of extra decades come between us?” Luke charms her. “I’d elope with you in an instant, but I fear Sid and Alf would track me down and beat me to within an inch of my life.”

Sid and Alf are (a) eighty-four, five feet six maximum, rotund, and (b) a toy boy of seventy-five, five feet six maximum, skinny. They would probably challenge Luke to a game of gin rummy and swindle him out of the contents of his bank account for Gran, but physical they are not. Well, not that kind of physical, obviously. I immediately squash all thoughts about Gran’s sex life.

“Ah, well, you can’t blame a girl for tryin’,” she flutters at him from under her lilac rinse. Lilac, it seems, is the new blue. “I shall just have to content myself with my love triangle. Of course, our Rosie is the exact spitting image of me at her age. And she ain’t married. Yet,” she adds rather unhelp
fully, and my pulse kicks up speed as she wobbles back to the kitchen, and to Alf and Sid, who are taking her line dancing shortly.

She still can’t choose between them, and they seem to be content to share her. But I guess at her age she can do pretty well what she likes.

I am trying to distract myself.

Luke and I are alone in the hall, and my face heats up as yet another uncomfortable silence forms between us. I say yet another uncomfortable silence because over the course of the past four weeks since the spaghetti dinner, I can’t seem to move without falling over Luke.

Every time I go to a Saturday dinner party, or on the odd occasion I babysit Baby Becky, there he is. With Elaine, who somehow is a regular at our Saturday-night dinners. Not that it bothers me.

Actually, that’s a lie, but it’s, you know, probably that old saying about the grass always looking greener on the other side of the fence.

Unfortunately, Gran has taken a huge liking to Luke and thinks that I should ditch Jonathan and sleep with him instead.

Luke is watching me with an odd look on his face.

“Just ignore my grandmother, hahaha,” I babble, cursing myself for sounding like an idiot. “She has some strange ideas, sometimes, hahaha.” God, I should just shut the hell up.

“I love her,” Luke tells me, not smiling. “She’s unique, just like her granddaughter,” he says, and my heart skips a beat. And then he does that thing of his and changes the subject. “How are the wedding plans coming along?”

He always asks me about wedding plans when we have these awkward silences.

“Um, good. Good.”

But did he mean good unique or bad unique? Before I can
even think about it, and not that I care, because it’s bound to involve more regret for what happened between us, Charlie and Lewis stagger in through the door.

“That’s the last of the boxes,” Charlie says as he and Lewis carry what I think is Colin’s computer screen down the stairs to the basement apartment.

Currently, Luke’s helping Charlie, Lewis and I move Colin from my spare room to Mum’s basement.

Yes, Colin moving into Mum’s basement was a bit of a coup on my part—another Amélie moment. Mum, after the spaghetti fest, started including him for Sunday lunch along with Jonathan and I, because she didn’t want him to feel left out, and when I saw how well they got along, it seemed like a good idea to plant the seed. Mum thinks it was her idea, but I don’t mind her claiming the glory.

“Thank God that’s the end of Colin’s stuff.” Luke’s sardonic eyebrow does its thing as he pushes his hair off his forehead. “Who knew one man could own so many model trains?”

Oh, I wish he wouldn’t do that. It’s too—too damned sexy.

You know my feelings for Luke in formal clothes, but my fuck, the sight of him in a pair of old jeans and a tight T-shirt is bad for my nerves. Not that I’m interested, of course, because I’m marrying Jonathan in eight weeks’ time.

I wish Jonathan were here, instead of in Manhattan on a business trip. It’s just lust transference, that’s all.

“We’re all set,” Colin tells us all in his deadpan voice as he, Charlie and Lewis reappear from the basement. “Thanks so much for your help.”

“No problem, old man.” Charlie slaps him on the back.

“I think this calls for some liquid refreshment,” Lewis says, rubbing his hands together.

“What do you say, lads?” Charlie grins. “We can’t abandon Colin in his time of need, and if he’s going to live here, we
should at least help him out by familiarizing him with the local watering holes.”

“I’m up for it,” Luke nods his head.

“Darling, we’ve had this conversation before,” Charlie teases him and winks at me. “We know you’re up for it.”

“I’m not a big drinker,” Colin, unsurprisingly, protests, as my head begins to ache.

“Come on Col, live a little,” Lewis tells him.

“But—”

“No buts.” Luke holds up his hand, and my heart thuds in my ears as I remember the time he said the same thing to me. And being lifted into his arms and whisked away to Piccadilly Circus shortly afterwards.

I really must stop doing this.

You see, instead of daydreams where Luke rescues me and we drive off into the sunset, or nightmares involving hot coals and roasting, I have now begun to relive every second that I spent with him. Including the sex. This is not good, but I think it is just a sign of bridal nerves.

See, after I marry Jonathan, he’ll be the only man I ever have sex with again. I mean, that’s a pretty daunting thought, isn’t it?

“I suppose I could manage a pint or two, then,” Colin monotones.

“How about you, Rosie?” Luke is so tempting. So tempting…

Instantly, my fertile imagination conjures up an image of Luke in his white doctor’s coat, with a stethoscope around his neck, which is odd, because I’ve never seen him in his doctoring environment. He is naked beneath it. Oh my.

“Tempting, but no.” I must not weaken. “I have wedding plans to plan.”

“Luke’s already here,” Elaine tells me as she opens the front door of her Hampstead house.

Oh, good. Another chance for an awkward silence and erotic conjuring,
I think sarcastically.

Elaine moved back to her own house with Nurse Hodges and Baby Becky not long after the christening. She said it was because she wanted her life back, because Auntie Pat fusses too much, but I suspect it was because she wanted her privacy back so she could have sex with Luke.

I must stop doing this. I must not think of the words
sex
and
Luke
together.

“You know,” Elaine says under her breath as she links arms with me. “I think he’s going to pop the question any day, now. Oh, I’m so
happy.
He’s
perfect,
don’t you think?”

“Um, well—”

“Of course, I’m asking the wrong woman,” she trills. “Obviously not for
you,
because you’re so in love with
Jonathan.
”

“Yes.” I nod. Because it’s true. I really love Jonathan, whom I am marrying in two weeks’ time, because he is comfy, just like a pair of old shoes. With patience and perseverance, he’s molded to my metaphorical feet into a perfect fit.

So it’s a shame, really, that the shoes he brought me back from his Manhattan trip are too small. Jimmy Choo again. This time, ivory, to go with my wedding dress. An extravagant gesture for our low-key, cut-price wedding, but he wanted me to have something special, which is sweet, isn’t it?

Obviously, this has involved me ordering my true size at the website, and I’m just hoping they arrive before my special day does.

“Well, I don’t think it will be too long before we follow you down the aisle. Of course, we have to wait for his divorce to come through. Actually, Rowan organized the fund-raiser we’re attending tonight. It’s so civilized to be on
speaking terms with one’s near ex, don’t you think? Of course, I shall have to put a stop to all that after the wedding. I was thinking an autumn wedding next year. That will give Mummy plenty of time to plan it.”

“Lovely,” I smile, but my facial muscles feel strained.

“Anyway, mum’s the word,” Elaine tells me under her breath as we enter her living room. “Look who’s here, darling,” she trills to Luke. “Our lovely bride-to-be.”

“Great to see you, Rosie.”

“You too,” I lie, because it’s not, because he’s wearing formal clothes again and I’m already hot under my red angora sweater. Instantly, my fertile imagination conjures up an image of Luke, in a dinner jacket and bow tie. Underneath, he’s naked…

“How are the wedding plans?”

“Oh, darling, Jonathan did the most romantic thing,” Elaine trills. “He bought Jimmy Choo wedding shoes for Rosie. Don’t you think that was thoughtful?”

“Very,” Luke smirks, which I think is a bit unkind.

“I’ll just get my coat,” Elaine says, “and then we’ll be off. Baby Becky should sleep through until eleven. Nurse Hodges fed her about half an hour ago, before she went off duty.”

“Do they fit?” Luke asks as soon as Elaine leaves in search of her coat.

“Of course,” I lie.

“I’m sorry. That was a bit unkind of me,” he surprises me by adding. “Well, then. I wish you all the happiness in the world. Rosie?”

“Yes?” I look up into his face. My throat aches with suppressed tears.

“I—” He takes a deep breath. “I always meant to, you know, clear up that time we—”

My nerves jump to attention.
Danger looming,
that little voice in my brain screams at me.

“Ready, darling?” Elaine singsongs from the door, ruining the moment, which is a relief.

“Absolutely. Goodnight.”

And then they’re gone.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Granny Elsie asks me.

Which is an odd thing for her to be asking me as I’m putting on my wedding dress on my wedding day, isn’t it? Of course I’m not having second thoughts. I’m just distracted, a bit, about something I discovered yesterday….

“Of course,” I tell her, smiling radiantly as I loop great-grandmother Mayford’s pearl earrings into my ears.

Something old…

At least, I
think
my smile is radiant. It’s just bridal nerves. “Why do you keep asking?”

“Oh, Jonathan’s a nice bloke and everything. I just worry a bit that he’s not excitin’ enough for you.”

“Gran, he’s my perfect pair of comfy, old, worn-in shoes,” I say as I slide the lace garter onto my leg.

Something new…

I’m confused, you see, and am trying to think it through. Yesterday yielded rather a large surprise. I received a bill from Mum’s therapist, Dr. Miller. It was for several hundred pounds, and when I called his office, the clerk told me that yes, it was correct. But when I asked her to check, an older woman came on the line and told me that it was all a huge mistake, and it had been explained to the new clerk that Dr. Benton was taking care of it, and sorry to worry me…

Luke, it seems, has been paying for Mum’s therapy.

“Yes, but comfy old shoes don’t mean boring old shoes,” Granny Elsie adds, and this is not helpful. “I mean, my shoes are old shoes,” she says, looking down at her green kitten mules with yellow bows.

You need sunglasses to look at them, but she has a point—they’re certainly not boring. Oh, I’m already a bag of worry. I know it’s supposed to be the happiest day of my life, but do you know how much stress it is?

“Now that Luke, there’s an excitin’ man,” she cackles.

“He’s Elaine’s boyfriend,” I tell her, exasperated. “They’re practically engaged.”

“But they ain’t engaged yet. It’s not too late to, you know, change yer mind.” This is the same theory she’s been expounding ever since Luke became the apple of her eye.

But how kind, yet strange, to pay for Mum’s therapy. I shall have to speak to him about it. I’m not sure what to say, but I definitely have to pay back every penny…

Oh, what does it all mean?

“I’ve been on this planet for nearly eighty-seven years and I know what it means when a man looks at a woman in a cer
tain way,” Gran says, her lilac head bobbing. “Let’s just say that he don’t look at Elaine that way.”

“How about a nice glass of sherry?” I ask, changing the subject as I fasten Mum’s pearls around my neck.

Something borrowed…

“You don’t look at Jonathan in that certain way, either,” she adds, and I try again.

“Please, Gran, let it be,” I plead.

“Alrighty then,” she nods. “Just remember, when Philip says that bit about if anyone knowing why you and Jonathan shouldn’t be joined, it’s still not too late to change your mind.”

“Gran.” My voice is all strangled mouse.

“I’m not sayin’ another word on the subject. I’ll go and get that sherry, shall I?”

“Who needs sherry when we have champagne?” Carmen puts her head around my bedroom door. “Tada! Your bridesmaids have entered the building,” she announces rather dramatically, as she and Jess come into my bedroom. “Thank fuck you didn’t make us wear something ugly,” she says, twirling in the champagne dresses she and Jess chose. “God, you look amazing. I thought we were supposed to put the dress on you, but I forget, sometimes, just how practical and organized you are,” she scolds me, but she’s smiling.

“Happy wedding day.” Jess brandishes the champagne flutes, and they clink dangerously as she puts them down on my dressing table. “Oh, you’re exquisite, exquisite. I can’t wait for my turn.” She clasps her hands together, and I smile, because she’s so infectious.

She popped the question to Philip. He was astonished, but he did say yes. Well, she’d be waiting forever if she left it to him. She even bought him a ring.

“I’ll leave you girls to it.” Gran wobbles toward the door, resplendent in bright green and yellow polyester. “I’ll keep
yer mum busy, and give her plenty to fuss about without comin’ anywhere near you,” she winks.

“Right, here we go.” Carmen winces as the cork pops out and the bubbles pour over the neck of the bottle. “Not that I make a point of making emotional, mushy speeches,” she laughs as she fills the glasses and hands one to each of us. “But let me just say, as one of your oldest friends, that I hope you’ll be as happy with Jonathan as I am with Paul.”

And at that moment, the lump in my throat gets even bigger as emotion tears build behind my eyes. I really love these girls. Am I doing the right thing?

“Just remember to smash a few plates, occasionally, to liven things up,” Carmen says with a cheeky grin, lightening the mood.

“And as happy as I’m going to be with Philip.” Jess, a couple of beats behind, clinks her glass a bit too forcefully against mine, and it shatters. “Oh, sorry, sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to do that quite so hard, I just get a bit too enthusiastic sometimes.”

“Here.” Carmen whisks the broken glass out of my hand. And then she grabs my hand and holds it away from my dress as a bright red spot bubbles on my finger. If I were a superstitious woman, which I’m not, I would take this as a bad sign.

“Oh, you’re bleeding, you’re bleeding,” Jess panics.

“It’s okay, it’s only a little cut,” Carmen tells her. And then to me, “Here, press this tissue against it. Pressure will stop it in a moment. Jess, you go get us some more glasses, and
don’t
tell Mrs. Mayford what’s happened. She’ll only dial the emergency services if you do,” she jokes, and I smile.

“But the glass—”

“I’ll do it. Shoo.” Carmen waves her off. “Actually, this is rather a fortuitous moment,” she says as soon as Jess is out of the room.

“What?” My nerves are already stretching to breaking
point. “Do you think this is a bad omen, and that Jonathan and I are doomed?”

“No.” She raises a hand. “Don’t you start, that’s all we need, you panicking too. Here, hold out your hand,” she says as she peels the back off a bandage and sticks it to my finger. “I just wanted to ask if you’re sure about this?”

“Et tu, Carmen?” I sigh.

“I shan’t mention it ever again. But I just want to make sure that you’re marrying Jonathan for the right reasons. That you’re not getting caught up in all the coupledom fever that’s exploded amongst us in recent months and you think you
ought
to do this rather than you
want
to do this. That you’re not secretly harboring something a bit more than basic lust for a particular mysterious doctor who is exciting, and risky.”

My God, she’s far too perceptive for my good, sometimes.

“My God, that was a long speech.” I stall for time.

“Well, I had to get it off my chest. Besides, you
know
I know there’s
something
you’re not telling me about that certain McDonald’s-coffee-drinking doctor.” She pauses. Then adds, gently, “Speak now, or forever hold your peace.”

Her last line, straight out of the marriage service I will be hearing in about an hour’s time, stops my denial on my lips.

“Charlie and Lewis are downstairs.” Jess comes bubbling back into the room with some plastic cups. “Oh, your gran gave me these,” she says as Carmen and I are still looking into each other’s eyes. “Oh, and Luke’s here, too. He wants a word with you,” Jess adds, and we both turn and look at her instead. “I told him to wait while I checked you were decent.”

“Knock, knock,” Luke says, from my bedroom door. “Your gran said to just come right up.”

“Um, hello. Come in. This—this is a surprise,” I say, because it is, because he’s the last person I expect to see.

God, but he looks lovely.

As he steps into my bedroom, my heart picks up speed as it usually does, and I want to smooth back his hair.

“Um, I know that this is unusual, but would it be alright if I had a quick, private word with the bride-to-be?” he smiles at Carmen and Jess.

“Absolutely.” Carmen, immediately all business, flashes me a meaningful glance, only I’m not sure what it is that she actually means. “Come along, Jess.” She hustles Jess out of the room. “We’ll be right downstairs.”

“But—” Jess begins, but doesn’t get the chance to add anything else.

As Carmen closes the door firmly behind them, another awkward silence settles between us.

“I didn’t want to leave without saying good-bye,” he tells me finally, pushing his hands into the pockets of his chinos. And then I notice that he’s wearing chinos, and not a morning suit, and I wonder what’s going on.

“You’re not—” I break off. He’s not coming to my wedding?

“I’m sorry. I felt I should say good-bye in person. Seeing as you’d taken the trouble to invite me to the wedding and everything.”

“You’re leaving?” My heart leaps into my mouth. Which is ridiculous, because I’m getting married to Jonathan in approximately fifty-five minutes. Why should I care if Luke’s there or not?

“Yes. A last-minute opportunity presented itself, and there’s nothing holding me back, so I thought, why not? I’m exchanging with an American colleague. I’ll be spending the next six months in New York.”

“Isn’t that a bit sudden?” I panic, which is also odd, because Luke’s geography on the face of the planet shouldn’t have such an impact on me. But New York. It’s so far away…

I’m going to be Mrs. Jonathan Leicester, I remind myself.

“Last-minute decision,” he says, not smiling as he looks at me in that endearing way of his. “Another colleague was supposed to take part in the exchange, but he had to back out at the last minute. Last night, in fact.”

“Isn’t it a bit of a risk?” I shouldn’t care if Luke comes to my wedding or, in fact, leaves the country at a moment’s notice, should I?

“Well, sometimes you have to take a chance. You know, make a snap judgement about something in life. And even if you do it once, and it doesn’t work out, you shouldn’t let it stop you from, you know, risking everything again—” He breaks off and changes his mind about whatever it is he’s going to say. “There’s nothing to keep me here anymore,” he finishes.

“But what about Elaine?” He’s divorcing his wife for Elaine. “You love Elaine,” I blurt. “I thought you were getting married. You know, once your divorce comes through,” I babble on. He can’t just be leaving.

“I’m not in love with Elaine,” he tells me, confusion written all over his face. “I’m sorry I gave her, and, apparently, everyone else, the wrong impression, but I have no intention, never did have, of marrying her. I thought we were just friends.”

“But you’re getting a divorce because of her. Why else would you wreck your marriage? Oh, I know you and Rowan are just friends, and about the family charitable donations and stuff, but why would you bother to upset the apple cart unless—” I babble, then stop, because I sound like an idiot, and I’m making an absolute mess of things, and Luke’s divorce is absolutely nothing to do with me.

“Ah, I see. Elaine confided in you about that. I see. I see. Never did get the chance to explain—no. No, it’s too late for
that,” he says and begins to pace the room. “Right. Right,” he says, coming to a standstill in front of me.

“What’s too late?” I ask, hardly daring to breathe, because I’m not sure I want to know the answer.

“I met someone else,” Luke tells me, looking into my eyes.

“What happened?” I ask, every nerve in my body on red alert.

“I was mistaken. She had her own life, and I caught her at a bad time, and, well, I didn’t want to, you know. Rock the boat.”

“So she didn’t know that you loved her?”

“The moment never arose for me to tell her. And now it’s far too late. Anyway, I have to go—I have to get myself to Heathrow for my appointment with a Virgin Atlantic plane. I just wanted to drop by and wish you all of the happiness in the world,” he says, standing in front of me.

And then, as he leans down and kisses me softly on the forehead, I want to take him into my arms, take that risk that it might be me he loves, but, of course, I don’t.

“Be happy, Rosie,” he tells me as he heads for the door. And as he pauses, and turns back to me, I want to throw myself at him and beg him to stay. “And,” he says, raising a sardonic eyebrow at me, “don’t forget to chew well.”

As he closes the door behind him, I realize that I’m never going to see that sardonic eyebrow again.

And the bride is the something blue,
I think, and I laugh hysterically…

“Well?” Carmen asks me thirty seconds later as she, Jess, Charlie and Lewis pour in through my bedroom door.

“He came to say good-bye,” I say, and I’m thinking, I’m thinking, as I pace up and down the room. Hysteria has been replaced by sheer, utter terror. And confusion. And the
strongest feeling that I am about to do something I never imagined myself doing.

And I’m suddenly reminded of a story I heard in the news about Shrek, the famous New Zealand sheep. Shrek, it seems, had a fear of being shorn. Every year, at shearing time, he would hide in a cave. Each year, his unclipped coat grew longer and heavier, until after six years of unsheardom you couldn’t see the sheep for the wool.

And I’m wondering if I haven’t been able to see the forest for the trees…I’m wondering if I’ve lost sight of the real Rosie because of having to be organized, safe, dependable…

“Yes, darling, but that’s why we have the telephone,” Charlie says patiently, perching on my bed. “It must have been much, much more than a simple good-bye if he came to tell you in person. I mean, it’s not like he’s making house calls to all of us, is it?”

“It’s not as if you are even that close friends, is it?” Lewis asks, also perching on my bed. “Although the way you two look at each other sometimes has us all on edge. You could bottle it and use it as an antidote to impotence.”

“Well, I think that it was very chivalrous of him,” says Jess, holding the skirt of her dress as she joins Charlie and Lewis on my bed. And then, “By the way, I know I’m not the quickest of people, but even I haven’t missed the sexual tension,” Jess tells me.