Never Google Heartbreak (25 page)

‘And here’s me thinking you’ve brought me somewhere special,’ I laugh.

A coldness passes across his face. ‘This is fucking special, Viv. Been somewhere like this before, have you?’ A little fleck of spittle hits my cheek. I use the damask napkin to dab at it, and when I raise my eyes to his, he’s calm again. He reaches under the table and holds my left knee as if warming his hands. ‘Vivienne, all you need to know is you’re my life . . . Soon to be my wife.’

‘That rhymes,’ I say stupidly. The hands slip from my knee. He glances across the restaurant and a muscle in his jaw jumps.

‘Viv, look, forgive me. I’m trying to show off, I suppose. I see you’re not impressed.’

‘No, I am. I really am. I think I just miss you. The old you before all the . . . success and everything.’

‘But I’m successful now. It’s who I am.’

‘I know.’ I look down at my hands. ‘Remember the pint and pasty days?’

‘I’m still the same person.’

‘Carpaccio of octopus with juniper . . . madam?’ The waiter sets down an artfully arranged plate. ‘Sir?’ Rob flicks out his napkin to make room for it. He takes up his knife and fork and cuts into what looks like thinly sliced tripe. He crams it in, making a white rosette on his lips.

‘Delicious.’ He takes a sip of wine. ‘The Sancerre complements it perfectly.’

I look down at my plate and feel exhausted.

The meal drags on. Each course is a kind of test of wills, with Rob ordering things that are exotic or raw or both. By the time we get to dessert, which involves some sort of rare egg-yolk jelly, my stomach is spinning unhappily. Finally he signs for the bill and we’re escorted to a waiting cab.

I look at Rob. He’s trying so hard to impress me, I see that, and I decide I’m bloody determined to have a nice time. If we both relax, we might find our groove again.

I must stop my mind wandering back to Max. I’ve checked my phone and there’s still no message from him. It’s strange to be worried about him. I mean, with Max, I’ve always been the one with the power, but here I am desperate to hear from him, just like all the girls he’s ever been with. I answered the phone to one once, who said she’d walk into the sea if he didn’t talk to her. ‘Let her,’ he’d said, adding, ‘She won’t,’ when he saw my face. I spent half an hour talking to that girl, trying to make her see what a dick Max is. Now I am that girl . . .

As we climb into the back of the taxi, Rob says he has a treat in store; I’ve no idea where we’re headed. I look out as Piccadilly Circus passes, feeling the charge of excitement I get from central London. My head’s woolly with the wine. Rob spreads himself languidly across the seat, his profile occasionally lit by oncoming headlights. He casually pats my thigh.

‘Did you enjoy your meal, darling?’ he asks.

‘It was very nice.’ I smile.

‘Are you going to say thank you?’

I turn to check if he’s joking. ‘What?’

‘I said, are you going to say thank you for the meal I just paid for?’

I feel myself blush. ‘Didn’t I say it at the restaurant?’

‘Nope.’

‘Well then, thank you, Rob, for a lovely meal.’

‘Good girl,’ he murmurs. I turn back to the window. His hand rests on my thigh like a tarantula. The taxi edges left out of traffic and shoots along like a freed thing, jolting me suddenly back into the seat. Rob looks at my low-cut dress where the diamond necklace now bounces slightly and smiles, meeting my eyes. I smile too, rearranging the folds of my dress. What is the matter with me? I just want to run away! This is the man I’ve longed for, the man I’ve cried over for months. Now he’s here doing just what I wanted him to do and I don’t feel anything except irritation. The taxi pulls up. It’s a moment before I realise where we are. Rob takes my arm and we walk into a courtyard. There’s a kiosk where he buys champagne and then we’re among a crowd of people at the front desk of a gallery. I notice posters about an exhibition.

‘Where are we, Rob? Is this the Royal Academy?’

‘It’s the Summer Exhibition. I want you to choose a piece and I’m going to buy it for you.’

‘Oh no. I can’t go in.’

‘It’s busy, I know. But there’s a “Meet the Artist” thing tonight apparently. Probably full of celebrities. What did you say?’

‘I’m feeling queasy. Could we take a walk or something?’

‘Don’t be silly, Viv. We will be walking – around the gallery. I know how you love art, so I arranged this as a surprise for you. Hnnn?’ He pats my arse.

‘I think it might be something I’ve eaten. I feel a bit hot.’

‘Come on, you’ll feel better in a minute.’ He guides me forward into the first room. ‘Most of the artists will be here. It’s very interesting to see who did what.’ We stand before a huge egg of blue glass.

I scan the room, looking for Max. This must be the surprise he meant in his text. He was going to bring me here. He wanted me with him and I didn’t even bother to reply. Shit! How could I be so stupid? This was so important to him and I didn’t even realise. And I was wondering why he wouldn’t answer my calls. I feel my heart hammering. Whatever happens, I must not bump into him while I’m with Rob.

I look around. Apart from two canvases in yellow and blue, the room is full of sculptures. If we stay in here, I might avoid him.

‘God, I love sculpture.’ I squeeze Rob’s arm, slowing him down. We stop at a tall rusted metal figure. The contorted body seems to be melting, turning into ridges and dropping into a pool of salt. ‘Amazing,’ I say. ‘I think it’s a comment about humanity.’

‘Bit bloody ugly, though. I mean, would you want it in your living room?’

‘I don’t know. I think it’s beautiful.’ I scan the room.

‘You serious?’ He looks at me. ‘I was thinking more of a pretty painting. Let’s go through there.’ He gestures with his champagne glass towards the arched doorway of another room, packed with people.

I fan myself with the guide booklet. ‘Phew, I’m feeling a bit faint.’ All around are ‘Meet the Artist’ posters, photos of smiling, groovy-looking artists. I hope to God we don’t meet one. I sink onto a bench. ‘Must be the booze.’

Rob frowns at me. ‘What’s the matter, love? You didn’t have that much.’

‘I think I just need some fresh air,’ I say. He looks around the gallery and spots another doorway.

‘Let’s try through there, less crowded. Come on.’ He pulls me up. I search the doorway: a small group of collectors and critics gather before a huge canvas. I walk forward weakly, guided by Rob’s hand on my back. As we approach the entrance I scan the crowd. A man in a tweed suit moves a step back and my heart jumps painfully as I think I see Max – a tall figure dressed in black jeans and shirt, dark curls combed back. The man moves again, obscuring my view. I stand still.

‘Oh, I don’t think we’ll find anything in here,’ I say. ‘It’s not really our style.’ Rob grips my arm, pushing me forward.

‘Well, let’s have a look, shall we?’

‘Ow, you’ve got my skin!’

He loosens his grip, sliding his arm around my waist instead. Tweed man steps aside. Max turns, glances in my direction and then away before realising what he’s just seen. When he turns again towards us, what I see in his face just kills me: anguish, hurt, disappointment and then fury. He strides towards us, pushing people out of the way until he stands in front of me. He searches my face murderously and I feel like the shittiest person on earth.

‘Max!’ I reach up to touch his face, feeling Rob’s arm tighten at my waist.

‘Don’t even dare to look at me, Vivienne, while you’re with him.’ His lip curls like a snarling wolf’s.

‘It’s not what you think, Max. I’ve been trying to call you today . . .’

‘What do you care what I think? What kind of fool do you think I am?’ His eyes dart over my face. I touch his arm, but he shakes me off.

‘Don’t talk to my fiancé like that!’ says Rob, and Max turns on him.

‘Don’t you say a fucking word, right? Or I swear you’ll swallow your teeth. This is between her and me.’ He stares at me like I’m a monster suddenly revealed.

‘What have I done?’ I feel tears prickle.

‘You have betrayed me,’ he says quietly, looking from me to Rob and back. ‘Good luck to you both.’ I catch the pain in his eyes as he turns away and walks quickly through the crowd, leaving me shaking with shock.

‘Well, that was a bit much!’ smiles Rob. ‘I thought he was a friend of yours.’ I break away from him, trying to follow Max. People are staring and tutting as I push through.

‘Max, wait!’ I shout into the crowd, but I can’t see him. I turn round, searching the room, the artwork and gilded frames becoming a blur. ‘Max!’ I shout again. But he’s gone.

Love cocktail #1 – the Heartbreak Breaker

Pour one measure of vodka into a glass with two spoonfuls of sugar and fresh mint. Crush with the end of a rolling pin, top up with ice and a dash of soda water. Add a squeeze of lime and shake. Voilà, no more heartbreak!

Monique, London

Love cocktail #2 – the Seducer

Pour one measure of tequila into a tall glass. Top up with ice, ginger beer and lime juice. Stir and serve to your victim.

Lizzie, Braintree

Love cocktail #3 – the Sex Bomb

Mix two parts Baileys Irish Cream with one part brandy and pour over ice. Alternatively, sit naked in a high-backed chair cradling a tumbler of Scotch and see what comes up.

Caroline, Perth

At home, slumped on the sofa, I’m feeling very bad. There’s a dragging in my tummy – is it booze or dread or both? I run through the gallery scene over and over, trying to see things from Max’s point of view. He wanted me with him at the ‘Meet the Artist’ evening, of course he did, and I should have known it was tonight.

Maybe he was angry because I didn’t respond to his text immediately, and that’s why he told me to forget about tonight and wouldn’t answer my calls. And then I turned up at the gallery with Rob . . . But something doesn’t fit. It’s just not like him to be touchy.

Well, anyway, I can’t think of a reason why he wouldn’t even talk to me, and then his reaction when he saw me – it was like he hated me! And now he won’t answer the phone, so I guess I’ll have to wait until he’s calmed down. I’ll find out what I’ve done and I’ll just apologise forever until he speaks to me.

Bloody Rob bloody Waters. Making me go in there when I said I didn’t want to. Where is he, anyway? I’ll just rest my eyes a bit. Feel a touch queasy.

I keep thinking about Max, and the pain in his face when he walked away, and hating myself. I know he thinks I turned up with Rob on purpose. He actually thinks I’d do that. I’ve really hurt him, that’s what I’ve done, and that’s just what I never, ever wanted to do.

Rob appears and hands me a brandy. I shake my head and the room tilts. Bugger, I must be completely drunk, but I feel sober. He sits beside me and strokes my hair.

‘You all right?’ he asks softly. I nod. ‘I’ll complain about him. Get his fucking shit paintings removed from the gallery.’

‘No!’

‘Upsetting you like that, just because we’re back together again.’

‘We are not . . . It wasn’t about that.’

‘Listen, shhh, you’re here with me now. It’s all okay. I’ll look after you.’

His beautiful face is close to mine, his eyes smiling, a faint smell of cologne. Trying to focus makes my eyeballs ache. He kisses my cheek. I can’t show how much I care about Max, how much I want to run out of here and find him. Even if Max doesn’t care about me, I have to explain to him how I came to be in the gallery with Rob.

Something jagged in that thought sticks – what if he doesn’t care about me? I can’t imagine Max not caring. Of course he bloody does. But why did he treat me like that? Maybe I was actually right not to get involved with him for all those years.

‘The trouble is, he’s very passionate,’ I say out loud, surprising myself.

‘Hmmn, don’t worry, Bunny,’ whispers Rob. He’s kissing my neck. His hand moves slowly up a leg, under my dress. I watch the hand as if it’s touching someone else. I lean my head back, but the room lurches sickeningly. I lean forward again.

‘I’m so turned on right now,’ he says to my thighs.

So all that shit Max said about loving me? He doesn’t love me. If he did, he’d have answered the phone today and told me why he was pissed off. He just cancelled this evening with a text! That’s not how people who love people behave.

Ugh, there’s a horrible acid taste in my mouth. I’ll get up in a second, go for a glass of water. Rob is tracing little circles over the pink ribbons on the front of my new undies. I was right to get them. So pretty. Twenty per cent staff discount, too. Rob really does have beautiful hair, all falling forward like that. He’s kissing my leg now. He looks a bit like a bird pecking corn.

I betrayed him! How did I betray him? He was the one who said, ‘Forget about tonight.’ He was the one who dumped me! To refuse to speak to me is just really childish. If I keep squinting to the left and try not to think about that horrible octopus I ate, then I might feel better. Rob is on his knees between my feet undoing his trousers. He pulls down starched white boxers. It’s quite a nice view. Handsome.

The phone rings and my heart leaps. That’ll be Max! Right – let’s have it out and clear the air. I move to get it, but Rob holds me back. He kneels over me and I suddenly notice he’s holding his cock in his hand.

‘Come on, Bunny. Suck me,’ he murmurs. I glance at the phone, then back at Rob.

The machine clicks in.

Objectively he is definitely a perfect-looking man, with his tanned legs and flat muscular stomach. I feel like I’m watching myself from far away and I’m vaguely aware of being tired and really sad. He rests one hand on the wall behind the sofa while the other guides his cock towards my face. I look it right in the eye. I don’t recognise it any more. That soap smells new. It smells expensive. I think I hear Nana’s voice leaving a message as I open my mouth.

‘You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what’s that? Come up with a smiling face. It’s nothing against you to fall down flat, but to lie there – that’s disgrace.’