There had been some definite heavy moving. Many of the rickety tables and chairs were gone, replaced by a pair of sofas. One of them I recognised as the one from Jerry’s flat upstairs, and the other was a long chocolate-brown leather one.
‘You moved your sofa all the way down the street?’ I asked Hugh, astounded. ‘When did you do that?’
‘This morning,’ he said.
‘Wow. And you still had energy for -’ I stopped myself before I blurted out details of our sex life to all the regulars. ‘- The profiteroles?’ I finished, spotting a huge pyramid of them on the bar beside the champagne.
‘I’ve always got energy for profiteroles,’ Hugh murmured in my ear, caressing my back in that secret intimate way that gave me delicious shivers.
‘This place looks amazing,’ I said. I hugged Jerry, Paul, Phil, Martha, Maud, even Norman, who politely refrained from grabbing my arse. When I got to Hugh I squeezed him extra tight and whispered to him.
‘Thank you.’
‘You’re worth it.’
It felt as if my smile was actually shining bright, I was so full of happiness. Hugh’s was hardly less so.
‘I’ve got a surprise for you later,’ I told him.
‘I like surprises.’
I stepped away from him before our closeness got too obvious, or before I was tempted to snog him in front of everyone. In the corner was a table, polished till it was gleaming, and stacked with glossy copies of
The Throbbing Member of Parliament
. I went over to it and ran my fingers over the covers. Someone had been thoughtful enough to put a couple of pens on the table for signing the books.
I heard a pop of a champagne cork. Hugh pressed a glass of sparkling apple juice into my hand. ‘Can’t wait to read this one,’ he said to me.
‘Have you really read them all, or do you have them as decoration?’
‘I’ve read them. Where do you think I’ve learned most of my tricks?’ His wink warmed me up as I thought about his tricks.
‘I’ve read a bit of it,’ Jerry said from beside me, sipping his champagne. ‘I mean, while the books were just sitting here. I’m not much of a one for books, but I liked this one. It was more like a film or something.’
‘And I can’t wait to find out what a filthy imagination you have,’ Maud said, presenting me with a book to sign for her.
The guests began to arrive. Duane showed up with the rest of his editorial team (every single one of them a slim, leggy blonde in great shoes - I suspected Duane chose them on purpose). They exclaimed loudly over me, the pub, my bump, the book. Some more Mouse and Duck semi-regulars turned up, along with people I’d invited from the Reading newspapers and the local BBC radio station.
Roisin and Jimmy came in, and so did Gwen. I’d nearly not invited her because of that whole lie about her falling in love with her best friend. I was afraid Hugh would ask her about it and I would be found out. I’d agonised and agonised about how to warn Gwen about it without making myself sound like a psycho, till I came up with the simple solution of telling Hugh he wasn’t supposed to know about it. After that I knew it wouldn’t pass his lips. I watched Hugh greeting her with a bit of trepidation, anyway, but there was nothing untoward.
Sheila had come down from Upper Pepperton the night before, but I hadn’t seen her yet. She’d insisted on staying in a hotel and said that as long as I was sure I didn’t need help, she wouldn’t dream about getting in my way while I was getting ready.
The minute she walked in the door I saw the real reason why she hadn’t come to my house.
She was with Richard the vicar.
He wore a black suit and a tie with cartoon characters on it. Hugh was closer to the door than I was and he greeted Sheila with a kiss on the cheek. I watched her introduce him to Richard, and then I noticed that Richard was holding her hand.
That was why she hadn’t mentioned him in her phone calls lately.
Sheila caught my eye and she blushed bright red from the collar of her dress upwards. In that blush I saw every single thing she and Richard had got up to in that hotel room together and I also saw that Mum was in love.
I went over to her and hugged her. She had on a new perfume.
‘You look great,’ she told me and I knew that she was lying; maternity clothes flattered no one, especially not someone eight months pregnant. I looked like a medicine ball in heels.
‘Thanks,’ I said anyway. ‘I like your scarf.’ I think it was supposed to be an evening wrap, but it looked more like a silvery version of what Tom Baker wore in
Doctor Who
.
‘I made the baby a matinée jacket in the same yarn; it’s in my bag.’ She was still blushing furiously. ‘You remember Richard.’
He held out his hand to me, and I noticed he did not look embarrassed at all. Just kind.
‘Of course I remember you,’ I said to him. ‘I’m so glad you could come.’ I hugged him. He had Sheila’s perfume on his collar.
‘I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,’ he said. ‘I can’t wait to read your book. Sheila is so proud of you.’
He exchanged glances with Sheila and I saw that he was in love with her, too. I suppose I recognised it because I was feeling the same way myself.
‘I’m proud of Mum, too,’ I said, and when she took my hand with her free one and squeezed it hard, I really was proud. ‘I’ll go get you a book and sign it specially,’ I said to Richard.
Sheila followed me to the book table while Richard found glasses of champagne for them.
‘Were you scared to tell me?’ I asked her.
‘Terrified,’ she said.
‘I hope you’ll get married before you fall pregnant this time,’ I said, and she giggled, and everything was all right.
‘It’s a wonderful party, love. I thought you said this place was a dump.’
I looked around again at the smiling people, the shining lights, my friends and family. ‘I was wrong,’ I said.
I wasn’t drinking, but the vibe made me feel a little bit tipsy. There were lots of people laughing, the flickering lights and Hugh always somewhere in the range of my senses. Even when I couldn’t see him I could feel him, like a pleasurable itch.
I didn’t notice Sophie till I came across her in a corner of the room, wearing a slim black dress and sipping a glass of water. Evidently she was good at blending in.
‘I’ve made up my mind,’ I told her before she could say anything to me. ‘I’m going to tell Hugh how I feel about him.’
Sophie followed my gaze across the room, to where Hugh was laughing while he talked with Sheila, Richard and Duane. He had his back to the editorial blondes. He was wearing a dark suit and a shirt with an open collar, his hair was rumpled in normal Hugh-style and he was so beautiful I wanted to run across the room and kiss him so hard we wouldn’t be able to breathe.
‘Love triumphs again,’ she said dryly, and toasted me with her glass of water. Her tone of voice was more cynical than romantic, but she added, ‘You’ve chosen a good-looking one, anyway.’
‘He’s the best man I’ve ever met,’ I told her. ‘I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to realise it.’
‘It’s as well I couldn’t find the father of your child,’ Sophie said. ‘Though I suspect this is a better outcome for you.’
‘It really is.’
‘Estelle!’ Bryce’s voice carried over the buzz of the party and the light jazz that replaced the jukebox’s faded hits. I turned to see him looming over the guests. He air-kissed me on both cheeks and surrounded me with his cologne before he clasped both of my hands in his huge well-manicured paws and said, ‘Darling! I am so thrilled! Let me introduce you to Reuben Rogers, who is making a film out of your fabulous book!’
He let go of one of my hands and gestured at the man who stood behind him, who had been obscured by his bulk. The man had an expensive suit, straight white teeth, and a goatee.
I stepped backwards on to Sophie’s foot, ignoring her small yelp.
It was George.
35
‘We’ve met,’ he said.
I’d thought my memories of George had gone rather fuzzy, but as soon as I heard his voice I knew it was as I remembered it.
He held out his hand to me. ‘It’s good to see you again,’ he said, ‘although I thought your name was Eleanor.’
He was smiling, friendly, charming. He seemed not at all embarrassed by the situation. He also seemed to be doing an astoundingly good job at not glancing down at my swollen, pregnant belly.
I, on the other hand, couldn’t say a word. I took his hand and shook it and although I hadn’t thought I’d remembered his hands, I did as soon as we touched. I breathed in and smelled his aftershave and I remembered that, too. I even remembered being in my bedroom with him, inhaling his scent.
Though the memories were strong, they weren’t as strong as any of my hundreds and thousands and millions of memories of being with Hugh.
I looked over at Hugh. He was staring straight back at me. He had a glass of champagne in his hand and as I watched he slowly put it down.
‘You’ve met already?’ Bryce asked. His voice sounded even louder than usual and I realised it was because nearly everyone else had stopped talking.
‘Yes,’ George said. ‘In this very pub, as a matter of fact. Although everything seems to have changed quite a bit since then.’
He was still pleasant, still casually friendly, but I could see him now registering something wrong in the room, glancing at my belly, wondering exactly how far gone I was.
Phil stood not far from us. ‘Hey, you’re the guy who owes Eleanor twenty quid,’ he said, putting two and two together and making three.
Then he, too, glanced at my belly and I saw the calculation rapidly righting itself. ‘Oh.’
‘I need to talk to you,’ I said to George-who-was-really-Reuben-the-producer-who-wanted-to-film-my-book.
‘All right.’
The room was now totally silent except for light jazz. Jerry caught my eye and gestured towards the door up to his flat. I nodded and led George/Reuben behind the bar, to the stairs.
When I passed Hugh he had picked up his drink again and was staring at it as if the bubbles contained the secret of the universe. I willed him to look at me, so I could tell him without words that I hadn’t wanted this to happen. But he didn’t.
As we began climbing the stairs I heard Martha saying behind us, ‘He doesn’t look like George Michael.’
Jerry’s living room seemed bare and comfortless without his couch, but he’d brought up quite a few of the chairs from the pub. I sat down on one and Reuben, who was by now looking distinctly worried, sat on another.
‘Is the baby mine?’ he asked right away.
I nodded.
I wasn’t sure how I was expecting him to react, though I’d imagined this moment many, many times. He didn’t get angry, as Hugh had been, and he certainly wasn’t thrilled, as Sheila had been. He looked stricken and a little bit sad.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean for that to happen.’
‘No, me neither.’ Though I put my hands over my bump, as if to shield the baby from any thought that he or she could ever have been a mistake.
‘Were you going to tell me after the baby was born?’
‘I didn’t know how to get in touch with you,’ I said. ‘I didn’t even know your name.’
Reuben blinked. ‘Really? Didn’t I tell you?’
He seemed genuinely surprised.
‘I probably didn’t ask,’ I said.
‘I guess we were both more interested in other things.’ He shifted in his chair as guilt flitted over his face. ‘I left early in the morning in a hurry to catch the first train to London. You were still asleep, and I only realised when I was halfway to Paddington that I hadn’t left you my number. I should have rung you, but I didn’t have your number either.’ The guilt settled more deeply. ‘Which is no excuse; I knew where you lived. I just thought - you made it so clear you only wanted a one-night stand.’