Guess Who I Pulled Last Night? (3 page)

Kerry and Kelvin lived on the other side of town to
Charlotte and Bets, because of this Kerry often felt she missed out on quick
cups of tea and girly chats, but deep down she knew that wasn’t true. It was to
Kerry that the others went for advice and to tell their secrets, before telling
the other one.  Because she was married with a baby she had become the
unofficial mother hen; a role that she really quite enjoyed at times.  She
knew her life was different; she had other responsibilities and she loved Kelvin
and Esme more than anything. Sometimes she missed the old single days, but then
she would think about what she had and realise that she was being silly.

Kerry had met Kelvin at high school and they had been
childhood sweethearts throughout the third year. Then Kelvin’s hormones kicked
in, and he discovered that some girls weren’t like Kerry and would let you feel
their knockers if you asked them nicely. So ended a beautiful romance. 
Kerry wasn’t too bothered because she had discovered the boys’ school across
town - in particular the sixth form - and in any case if Kelvin had been a
little more persistent she would have most definitely let him feel her
knockers.

 They met up again while the girls were out celebrating
Bet’s 25
^th
birthday.  They had been to a local Italian
restaurant and had decided that they would re-live some old memories and go to
the Filthy Gander.  It was now a “fun pub," and that night –
according to the poster on the window outside - was an “Old Skool 90’s
night." The girls sat at their usual table, well it was in the same place,
although Charlotte was convinced that she could make out CP 4 JD ’95, scratched
into the veneer. Charlotte reminded the girls that JD was Jamie Daniels, the
peanut in the ear patient, whom she had fancied like mad at the time. 
Suddenly, R Kelly blasted out from the DJ’s console.

“Ah ace, c’mon girls!” screamed Kerry, who was the first up
for Bump N Grind. “Do you remember Kelvin Johnson and I used to dance to this
at Meir Street Disco?” she shouted above the noise.

“Yes I do, and I remember Mr Brandon told you to stop
dancing provocatively as you were only thirteen,” replied Charlotte. “Do you
remember how much hair gel Kelvin used to wear?”

They carried on dancing for a while, the old tracks bringing
back memories of school discos and furtive snogging with boys from the sixth
form, when suddenly a look of astonishment crossed Bets’ face.

“OH MY GOD!” she screamed, pointing over at the bar. “Look
who’s over there!”

“Who?” Charlotte and Kerry chorused.

All three suddenly screamed and ran in the direction of two
men who had also spotted them; the aforementioned Kelvin and his best friend at
school, Russell.

“Bloody hell, I haven’t seen you three in years, how are
you?”

“Fine, we were just talking about you.”

“Where’s all the hair gel?”

“Hello Russell, how are you? You haven’t changed a bit.”

“Cheers, I saw your brother last week.”

Everyone spoke at once, desperate to find out what the
others had been doing.  Kelvin suggested that they all went somewhere
quieter to talk about the old days, so off they all trouped, chattering away.

Once they all had a drink in their hands different
conversations were struck up once more, Russell talking to Charlotte and Bets,
while Kelvin chatted to Kerry.

“So what are you doing with yourself?  I’d heard that
you’d moved to Newcastle and got engaged.”  Kerry asked.  She sipped
her drink, looking intently at Kelvin over the rim of her glass.  Suddenly
and unexpectedly her heart started to hammer in her chest.  Not bad, she
thought: his hair, which was still golden blond, highlighted the blueness of
his eyes, and she could see from his biceps that he worked out - not so much
that he was muscle bound, but just enough to make him look sexy and
strong.  He also seemed taller than she remembered, and those dimples were
so
cute.  She hadn’t seen him since the day that they had
left high school, but even after nearly nine years he still gave her an
adrenaline rush.  This time though it was a much sexier feeling, not the
same as when she was thirteen and trying out French kissing for the first time.

“Yeah, I did.  It was a girl from up there who I met on
holiday in Corfu.  I moved up two years ago, but got back a couple of
weeks ago.”

Kerry blushed as Kelvin’s voice brought her back to the present
day. “How come you came back then, is she with you?” She coughed nervously.

“Nosey as usual; no she’s not with me, it didn’t work
out.  Mainly because I caught her in bed with someone, one of my friends
actually.” Kelvin replied.

Kerry gasped. “Did you punch him then?”

 “It was a she, so no I didn’t.” He smiled, waiting for
Kerry’s reaction, but she didn’t speak. “You can say something you know, I’ve
got used to the idea.”

“But that must have been dreadful.”

“Well I suppose it was better than finding her with another
bloke. I mean, I can’t really compete with a woman can I?  Anyway, enough
about me, what about you what have you been up to the last eight years?”

They carried on talking, reminiscing about school and about
what had happened to each of them over the years. Everyone noticed, but they
were too polite to point out that they felt excluded from Kerry and Kelvin’s
private party.  By the end of the evening, Russell invited them to a get
together that he and his new wife were throwing, so they eventually parted
promising to see each other then.

“Well, well,” said Charlotte once they were outside. “So,
was that old magic still there then Kerry?”

“Yes it was nice to see him, but that’s as far as it goes.”

“Yeah, right,” snorted Bets. “I would lay money on the fact
that you’ll be wearing something nice and new to the party, what do you think
Charlotte?”

“Oh most definitely I do,” agreed Charlotte.

During the week leading up to Russell’s party, Kerry decided
to take up a severe beauty regime, and became a regular visitor at the salon
where Bets worked at the time for different treatments.  She became so
obsessed that on the day after having her nails manicured, she refused to type
any letters.  Fortunately Mr Jervis, the solicitor for whom she worked as
a secretary, knew what an odd person she could be at times, and where else
could he get a bilingual, typing wizard who made coffee like Kerry?

“Going to a lot of trouble for a crap house party, aren’t
you Kerry?”  Charlotte called over the top of the changing room cubicle.

“What do you mean? There’s nothing wrong in looking your
best,” she replied through gritted teeth, as she tried to pull up the zip on
the expensive trousers.  “It’s no use; you’ll have to get me the size 14
pair.”

“Here, I brought them with me; I didn’t think they’d fit.”
Charlotte threw the trousers over the top and received a smaller pair, followed
by a hanger, in return.  “What I mean is, beauty treatments, new trousers,
new boots and new cleavage showing blouse.”

“Ooh, that’s better.  I just fancied some new clothes,
and anyway I’m always showing my cleavage.”

“Hmm, I know, it’s famous all over town.”

“Well, will I do?” Kerry asked, thrusting open the curtain.

Charlotte looked at Kerry with her head cocked to one
side.  Kerry wasn’t as slim as Charlotte or as nicely toned as Bets, but
she was that rare breed of woman who was pretty confident about her body. With
her solid bottom and ample bosom, she exuded sex appeal.

“Oh I reckon you’ll do, you’ll have him eating out of your
cleavage before the nights out.”

“Huh, don’t know what you mean,” she said, and pulled the
curtain across the cubicle once more.

That evening as they arrived at Russell’s house the party
appeared to be in full swing.  As Bets and Charlotte admired the house
Kerry added more lip gloss to her already oil-slicked lips.

“Well come on then,” she said, rushing up the driveway, “we
don’t want to be late.”

Kerry knocked on the door twice, and was just about to knock
again when it was thrust open by a red faced and drunk looking Russell,
wobbling on the doorstep.

“Wahey, hello there…Clare, quick come here, come and meet my
old school mates.”  He grabbed a rather large, pretty woman away from a
throng of people enjoying a drinking race.  “Clare meet Charlotte, Bets
and Kerry, girls meet my missus, Clare.”

Clare smiled and pulled them all into a huge hug. “Nice to
meet you girls. Give Russell your coats and bottles and I’ll sort you some
drinks out, then perhaps you’ll be nicely tiddly Kerry by the time Kelvin gets
here.”

“But…” stammered Kerry as they were pulled away into a
packed kitchen towards the booze.

Ten minutes later, glasses in hand, the girls had started
their usual party process of splitting up into a pincer movement.  This
way they could observe the other guests, ready to swap notes later.  Back
at the base camp of the booze table, Charlotte was already back when Bets
arrived.

“Well he’s okay over there,” Bets sneakily nodded in the
direction of the fridge, “…the one with the leather trousers on.”

“No way, he’s far too camp, and probably old enough to be
your dad, and who wears leather trousers these days?  What about him over
there?”

Bets almost choked on the peanuts she was shovelling in her
mouth.  “Please be serious, anyway he’s with that skinny bird in the
lounge,” Charlotte looked at her quizzically. “The one that looks like Deirdre
Barlow?”

Charlotte nodded in recognition. “Where’s Kerry by the way?”
she asked.

Bets nodded in Kerry’s direction as she approached them. 
“So what about you Kerry, spotted anything useful, or hasn’t he arrived yet?”

Just then a gust of wind from the hallway signalled that
someone else had made an entrance.

“Yep, I think I have.  Listen if I seem busy later just
get a taxi without me.”  With that Kerry marched off in the direction of
the latecomer, to be swept up into his overcoat and given a warm, welcoming
kiss on her glossy lips.

“I see Kelvin has arrived then,” said Charlotte, frowning. “I
suppose we’ll be splitting the taxi two ways then.”

“Lucky bugger, the rest of them here are pretty rank to say
the least,” replied Bets grumpily. “Come on, we might as well get drunk and see
who can add to their Ugly Bloke list.”

That had been almost exactly five years ago, and Kerry and
Kelvin had been blissfully happy ever since - sickeningly so, according to
Charlotte and Bets.  They were engaged within six months and married
eighteen months after that and then, two years later on Boxing Day, Esme Kate
Johnson was born.

“You know, Esme,” whispered Kerry, looking down on her
sleeping baby, “your mummy is very lucky.  She’s got you and she’s got
Daddy and a lovely home and…” Kerry sighed looking out onto the grey October
day, “…I celebrated three happy years of marriage in September. I have got
three more months still on maternity leave, got the two best friends that
anyone could have…so why do I feel so sad?”

It was cold and grey outside, and although Charlotte wasn’t
out of bed yet, she could tell because the tip of her nose was icy.  She
looked at her bedside clock; it said 6:45 a.m., the green figures urging her to
get up. Charlotte was a real creature of comfort and would have loved to stay
there a while longer, all warm and cosy (except for her nose), but she
couldn’t, the urge to go to work was greater.  As she showered and
dressed, Charlotte smiled to herself.  When she had been a teenager
working at St Gregory’s there would have been no competition - her bed would
have beaten work hands down - but not now, now she was dedicated to helping
Paul create his empire.  She didn’t know why she had changed so much,
perhaps being a slacker had just been a teenage thing, or perhaps it was
because she loved her job now.  On the other hand, as Tom her brother
always pointed out; it was because she was a sad old spinster with nothing else
to think about.  Charlotte quickly pushed the thoughts from her head and
carried on getting ready.

An hour later she was pulling onto the car park of Palmer Insurance,
looking at the building and feeling proud to be a part of it and its
beginnings.  It wasn’t a huge company, but was still impressive, employing
around forty people, whom she would soon be responsible.  Charlotte
shuddered with the cold, as she carefully stepped through the puddles towards
the main reception, wishing that it was summer again.

“Morning Debbie; cold isn’t it?”

Debbie was about to put a call through to someone, so nodded
in agreement. “John, its Mr Avery from Hollness Steel…sorry Charlotte, yes it’s
freezing in here so I’ve got my thermal socks on over my tights.” Debbie thrust
a foot out from under the desk.

“I’ll get that heater sorted for you today; Rob can check it
for you."  Charlotte took the letters that Debbie was holding out to
her with icy fingers, and started to make her way through the row of desks
behind the reception area.

“Oh Charlotte, before you go, there has been a Mr Devine on
the telephone for you,” Charlotte frowned quizzically.  “He said that he
was from Johnson and Cathcart Engineering,” explained Debbie.  “It’s the
big engineering company that relocated to Manchester from Luton; anyway, he
wants to meet with you to talk about us taking over their insurance.”

“He’d be better speaking with Paul if it’s a big contract.”

“I suggested that, but he said that you had been personally
recommended by a Mr Grant Beddows, so he wants you to call him back.”

Charlotte opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came
out.  She turned away, putting a hand to her head as if she was trying to
remember the name; of course, she remembered the name, how could she
forget?  Trying to compose herself before turning back to Debbie,
Charlotte took in deep breaths.

“Err, Grant Beddows you said, erm let me think.” 
Charlotte stared at the wall, trying to clear her mind, but all she could think
was how much she hated Grant, even after all this time.  Quickly pulling
her thoughts together, Charlotte turned back to Debbie. “Yes, I think I know
who you mean.  Well, you’d better give him a call and arrange an
appointment then.”  With that she turned and strode towards her
office. 

As she walked into the warm office, Charlotte gave a watery
smile to everyone.  She didn’t want them to know how sick she felt, or
that her palms were sweating, or that her heart was beating out of her chest.

“Morning all,” she almost whispered.

“Morning, huh, huh, Charlotte,” Bobby the accountant,
greeted her with his usual annoying dry cough.  Few people at Palmer’s
liked Bobby as he was a bit of a moaner.  He wore Cuban heeled boots to
give him extra height, but all they did was provide him with an unusually
stooped walk as he made long strides to try to balance on them; hence his
secret nickname of Short Arse Sheriff.

“Morning Bobby, how are you getting on with the monthly results?" 
Charlotte asked, placing her bag on her desk.

“Huh, huh,” Bobby responded, with his dry cough again. 
“I'm almost there.”

“Good, well let’s not be late like last month shall
we?  And how are you today Gwen?” Charlotte turned to Gwen, as if dismissing
Bobby.

“Not bad at all, actually I think my moon must be rising
because I feel that I look particularly good today.”

Charlotte stared at Gwen in disbelief. Her lipstick was way
above her top lip, all over her teeth, and her bedraggled old hairpiece wasn’t
on straight.

“Yes, quite.  Laura, do you think that you could take
these letters down to Paul for me please?” Charlotte picked up a pile of
letters from her tray and held them out to Laura, the angry teenage office
junior.

“Right,” she mumbled, taking them from Charlotte’s hand.

“Oh and Laura, if you see Rob can you ask him to look at the
heater in reception.”

“Why would I see Rob?” she demanded.  Rob was the
handyman and Laura had a definite soft spot for him.

“Because that’s where you always go when I ask you to do
something.  I have eyes everywhere Laura, remember that.” Charlotte winked
at the frowning Laura.

Charlotte had been working for about half an hour, on a
business case for a new computer system, when her internal line started
buzzing; it was Debbie.

“Yes, Debbie.”

“Charlotte, I rang Mr Devine and he was wondering whether he
could visit this afternoon.  He will be in the area, say about 2 p.m.?”

“Err, I think that should be okay.  Is Paul available
then?”

“Yes, I’ve already checked.”

“Okay, oh and Debbie could you check whether he’s coming
alone… you know… so I can organise coffee.”

“Sure no problem, thanks Charlotte.” Debbie's line clicked
off.

Charlotte suddenly felt sick again, what if he brought Grant
with him?  She realised that she had to talk to Paul.

“You don’t really think that Grant would come here, do you?”
Paul asked, running a hand through his mop of blond curls. "If he does I
will refuse to see him, however, unprofessional it may seem.  Okay, maybe not,
but I’ll make sure that you don’t have to see him.”

Charlotte smiled at him warmly; he had been an excellent
friend apart from being a decent boss, supporting her as much as Kerry and Bets
when she and Grant had split up.  He was a good man all round.  At
thirty-six, he was one of the youngest and most respected businessmen in the
area, mainly because he was honest and not afraid of hard work.  His big
smile, happy nature and unruly hair, forever in his brown eyes, made him an
attractive man, and a good catch for anyone.  The only bad thing about
Paul was he didn’t know how to dress.  It was down to Charlotte that he
wore Hugo Boss and Henry Lloyd rather than nylon trousers, and a home knitted
pullover.

“You are kind Paul, but you’re right; we can’t lose business
over this.  Anyway, we don’t know how he knows Grant.  Maybe he went
to him first for the insurance, and Grant couldn’t help so he recommended us.”

“Maybe, we’ll see what happens, but I’ll be there. 
Actually, it will be a good opportunity for you to get your hand in for when
you get your promotion.”

“Yes, it’s been a long time since I did any
quotations.  It should be a good experience.”

At 13:55 precisely Debbie’s number flashed on Charlotte’s
telephone.

“Charlotte, Mr Devine is here.  He’s alone by the way.”
Debbie announced.

“Sorry?” Charlotte questioned.

“You know, you wanted to know because of coffee.  His
secretary wasn’t sure when I booked the appointment.” Debbie explained.

“Oh thanks Debbie, could you sort the coffee for in Paul’s
office, and show Mr Devine down in about five minutes.”   Charlotte
replaced the receiver and let out a huge sigh of relief.  Quickly, she
reassessed her make up in her mirror, drew a brush through her hair, and then
one last final detail, and swapped the square-cut diamond ring (a present to
herself) from her right hand over to the third finger on her left hand. 
She was taking no risks; Grant may be a mere acquaintance of Mr Devine’s, but
if he wasn’t then the report back would be that she was engaged.  Finally
ready she strode across the office.

“Gwen, I’m going into a meeting, when Laura gets back will
you ask her to take any messages.”

“Yes.” Gwen looked up at Charlotte, smiling to show lipstick
stained teeth.

“Oh and Gwen.”

“Yes?”

“Please don’t use this time to read your Tarot cards for the
week ahead.  Remember the commission needs to be done by mid-morning
tomorrow.”

Gwen raised her eyebrows, and took out her cards as
Charlotte’s back disappeared through the door.

“So, Paul remember if he mentions Grant, that’s your cue to
talk about my fiancé,” said Charlotte, pointing at the diamond on her finger.

“Oh you are a silly sausage, Charlotte.  So what if he
reports back to Grant that you are still single, after all these years of sleeping
around?”  Paul grinned from ear to ear.

“Three times in three years is not sleeping around. 
Anyway, one of them doesn’t count; he got far too excited before we’d even
reached the bedroom.”

Paul winced at the thought of his friend Ted, with whom he had
tried to fix Charlotte up. “Actually, did you know that Ted is engaged to
Isabella Forsythe now?  In fact, I think I have a picture here somewhere -
it was in Cheshire Life last week.”  Paul started to leaf through the
magazines and pamphlets in his tray. Charlotte slammed her hand down on them,
catching Paul’s fingers underneath. 

“Sorry, suck them that will take the pain away.  Look,
I know that you think that I’m being silly, but I don’t want Grant to think
that my life has been rubbish since we split up.  Mr Devine may never see
or speak to him again, but I don’t want to take that chance, so please will you
play along?”

Paul nodded.  There was a knock at the door. “Come in,”
Paul called.

It was Agnes, Paul’s guard dog of a secretary. “Mr Devine
for you Mr Palmer.”

“Thank you Agnes, show him in.”  Agnes stepped aside to
let Mr Devine into the office.

Over the years, Charlotte had gathered a knack of sizing up
people without them even knowing, and this is what she did with Mr Niall
Devine.  Her first thoughts were Devine by name and so divine by nature,
but she then remembered that she was in a business meeting and should behave
appropriately, but she couldn’t help it.  He was around six feet tall,
with short black hair, big blue eyes and wore a beautifully tailored, navy
blue, Versace suit.  He gave Paul and Charlotte an amazing smile, showing
off beautiful white teeth.  Charlotte quickly scanned his fingers for a
wedding band - not that it mattered of course, and she was going to be totally
professional - she was, however, pleased to see there wasn’t one, just a thick
silver band on his right thumb.  He held out his hand, to Charlotte first,
showing off a nicely tanned wrist.  As she put her small hand into his big
strong one, Charlotte shivered slightly, and suddenly felt very
girly.   Mr Devine then shook Paul’s, still smiling brilliantly.

“Mr Devine, so nice to meet you.”

“You too Mr Palmer.” Devine’s Irish lilt floated out across
the office.

“No, please call me Paul.”

“Well you must call me Niall, and this must be Miss Price?”
He asked turning back once more to Charlotte.

“Charlotte, seeing as we are all on first name terms,”
Charlotte said, giggling nervously.  She had to take a deep breath to calm
herself; she certainly hadn’t expected that a new client would have such an
effect on her.

Paul took the initiative to find out about Grant.  “So,
we were recommended to you by a Mr Grant Beddows were we?” Paul asked,
indicating that Niall could sit down.  “How do you know him?”

“He’s a friend of my Managing Director.” Niall replied, the
smile momentarily leaving his lips.

“Well at the moment it is me that you will be doing business
with; however," said Paul, smiling at Charlotte, “from next year,
Charlotte will be running things.”

“Oh promotion then?” Niall asked.

Charlotte didn’t answer immediately, briefly mesmerised by
his accent.  “Oh sorry, yes that’s right.”

“Ah, good for yer.  Anyway, shall we get down to
business?”  Niall reached down for his briefcase.  “I’m head of legal
for the company, so it’s my responsibility to obtain some good insurance
cover.  Our business is getting larger and so need to have more than
adequate policies, at the best possible price of course.  If all goes
well, we would be looking for things like public liability cover, and personal
insurance for our employees, so that’s what I’d like to discuss with you
today.”

The meeting continued for another hour, with Niall and Paul
drawing up some proposals for Johnson & Cathcart, resulting in a profitable
day’s work for Palmer Insurance.  Throughout the meeting, Charlotte had
tried to throw in some ideas, about the amount of cover needed, and the type of
policy, but each time Niall would listen and then say, “What do you think
Paul?” So that in the end, Charlotte sat back and took notes.

“Well Niall, it has been a pleasure to do business with
you.”  Paul held out his hand.

“Thank you and you too Paul, oh and of course, you
Charlotte.” He took Charlotte’s hand and shook it quickly.  “Perhaps next
time we meet you will be getting a bit more into yer stride.”

Charlotte’s mouth dropped open, had he meant to be so
condescending, or was he just ignorant?

“I expect it was all a bit boring for yer today. 
Anyway, nice to meet yer.”

A few minutes later, a charmed Paul, and a smarting
Charlotte, watched from the office window as Niall drove his Silver Audi R8
from the car park.

“Hmm, one step up from Grant’s old prick mobile,” Charlotte,
muttered under her breath.