The Girl Who's Never Had a Valentine (2 page)

     ‘Oh! No! … You …!' I couldn't help but yell out, and would most certainly have been muttering a string of expletives to myself had he not been within earshot.

     The handsome young man with the long brown hair slipped his phone into his pocket and rushed to my aid.

     ‘You wouldn't think mayonnaise could make so much mess. Here, let me help you.' He sounded American. He bent to assist in collecting up the stray items of shopping. I felt such a fool.

     ‘Thanks! Leave the glass … I'll get a bucket and some newspaper to clear that up.' A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.

     ‘Trouble is, the plastic bags are just not strong enough. No stamina and no guts,' I laughed and he smiled.

Before reaching into the boot of my car for the other bags, he offered his hand. ‘Luke… pleased to meet you!'

     ‘Beth … I live on the second floor.' As we shook, I gazed up into his handsome face in a shy, girly fashion. It felt alien but I couldn't stop myself doing it and I blushed furiously. I managed to smile and hopefully not look like a simpleton. I asked, ‘Are you new here, Luke? I haven't seen you around before?'

     ‘No… Not exactly. I've been seeing quite a bit of one of your neighbours and she's out … I need to get into her apartment to get some of my stuff.'

     ‘Oh! I see.' I attempted to sound surprised and allowed Luke to help me upstairs with my shopping bags. I fumbled in my bag for the door key and asked if he'd like to come in for a coffee while he was waiting for the girlfriend to return. Again, I didn't know what the hell I was thinking. This guy could be an axe-murderer. Even worse, my underwear and washing could still be lying around in the lounge.

     ‘That's very kind of you… I'm sure she'll be back within the hour. Are you sure you're OK with this?' He appeared grateful and so damned attractive and … At that point I knew I was under his spell.

     ‘Absolutely … just stick all those bags on the kitchen worktop, will you?' I busied myself with a bucket of warm soapy water, a dustpan and brush and some old newspaper and a plastic bag. He stopped me before I reached the kitchen door and said, ‘Here … let me, it's the least I can do for my cup of coffee.' Taking the bucket and all the cleaning gear, he set off for the car park. What could I say! ‘Thanks.'

 

     On the surface he was everything a girl could ask for. Tall, good-looking, shaggy chic and foreign to boot. Shame he was already spoken for. He was the type of boyfriend that a girl could aspire to. Looking down from my lounge window, I watched as Little Miss Perfect's dishy boyfriend cleaned up broken glass and mayonnaise from the car park floor. Smiling to myself, I wondered what she'd have to say if she arrived home and caught him. I don't know what got into me; I was feeling mischievous and couldn't wait to get into conversation with the delectable Luke. I whizzed through the flat doing a rapid tidy up removed the card from the mantle, shoving it into the nearest drawer. I then proceeded to make a cafètiere of my finest Kenyan and Costa Rican blend, accompanied by chocolate digestives. I was definitely out to impress. Clattering back into the flat, my ‘new friend' closed the door.

     ‘All done and dusted. Again, this is very kind of you, Beth.' Hearing my name on those luscious lips made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

     ‘Please go through … Take a seat.' He sat in the single armchair and seemed to fill the whole lounge with his long legs stretched out before him. I sat opposite on my small sofa. Setting the tray down on the coffee table, I poured. The winter sun shone brightly through the window, glinting on the natural highlights in his wavy, nut-brown hair. While I was admiring his gorgeous locks, he was probably eyeing the thick layer of dust on my TV – now so glaringly visible. He picked up two biscuits and again flashed that Hollywood smile. Before taking a bite he asked, ‘Have you lived here long, Beth?'

     ‘Almost six months … I'm still getting it together, as you can see.'

     ‘It looks pretty homey to me.'

     ‘And you … Where do you call home, Luke?'

     ‘At the moment it's London, but I'm from Vancouver… I'm sure you detected my accent.'

     ‘I did!' (Well, almost.) It didn't take long for me to discover that Luke was an architect, working on a two-year contract with his company in London and so far he was loving every minute. Old buildings were his passion, especially churches. His easy charm and quick wit were quite a combination. I steered the conversation around to ‘Karen'. A girl of twenty-eight doesn't have time to hang around. Lifting the pot and offering him more coffee, to which he nodded, I asked, ‘Have you been seeing Karen for a while?' That definitely wasn't subtle, but how else was I supposed to find out … He didn't seem to mind.

     ‘Couple of months … Although with her hectic work schedule I'd guess we haven't been on more than half a dozen dates.' He shrugged his broad shoulders as he took another gulp of coffee. He'd removed his leather jacket and the V-neck of his lamb's wool jumper was allowing a little chest hair to escape. Concentrating was now becoming difficult.

     ‘I've only spoken to Karen a couple of times, in the hallway. What does she do?' As he crunched away on his third biscuit, he said, ‘She's an underwear model and she's been spending quite a bit of time in Rome and, more recently, Paris. Something about a spring collection.' I could feel myself pulling the face my mum would describe as ‘not very attractive, dear'. AN UNDERWEAR MODEL! Well why doesn't somebody come along and shoot me right now? Put me out of my misery! Not to be put off entirely and to show I bore no malice towards this sexy goddess, I said, ‘A jet-setting lifestyle … How glamorous!' He cut in before I spoke another word.

     ‘Not really, it's a bit of a pain in the butt! You don't know where you are from one day to the next … Very difficult to maintain anything consistent… You know what I mean?' He looked directly at me and arched an eyebrow, holding my gaze with the darkest chocolate-brown eyes.

     ‘I do … although I haven't had to worry about that for a while.' I knew that I was making my lack of a relationship blatantly obvious, but so what! Men were different to women. They liked straightforward, no pussy-footing around. They needed facts, subtle hints didn't work.

     ‘No Mr Right on the horizon, then?' I like forthright, but that took me by surprise. If I was being direct, then so was he. My face must have said it all.

     ‘I'm sorry, Beth. I didn't mean to pry.'

     ‘Not at all. I've asked you about your relationship with Karen, so it's only fair that you comment on mine. Or lack of … And, yes, your assumption is correct, there is no Mr Right … on the horizon.' There wasn't one on the horizon, in the dim and distant past, on the moon or anywhere else for that matter.

     ‘To tell you the truth, Beth, my “relationship” with Karen has probably come to its inevitable end.'

     ‘Hallelujah!' I wondered if I'd actually said that out loud. Trying to sound as casual as was humanly possible, I squeaked, ‘Oh! How come?'

Shifting in his seat he leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs, hands clasped between his knees.
   ‘Last night I stayed here. We had an argument, it carried on out into the car park this morning. You may have heard raised voices?' I, of course, shook my head.

     ‘Not a peep.' What a liar! I sat spellbound.

     ‘I hope you don't mind my talking about this, Beth – you don't know me from Adam.'

     ‘Not at all, Luke. Carry on. It's good to off-load.'

Rubbing his jaw, shadowed with the faintest hint of designer stubble, he continued, ‘It's really embarrassing! She accused me of carrying on behind her back. Somebody sent her a text saying they'd seen me at a party kissing some woman.'

Now I was intrigued. ‘Was it true?'

 Raising that eyebrow again, he said, ‘Absolutely not.'

 I believed him, of course I did, he was cute and I was smitten. Shaking his head he said, ‘The irony of all this is … if I was seeing someone else, where I come from, that's considered OK! You know … to be dating two or three people at the same time. Karen and I, we weren't serious. I couldn't understand where she was coming from.' I nodded, absorbing all the information like a sponge. How many women did Mr Wonderful have on the go?

     ‘So, it's over then – you and Karen?'

     ‘Without a doubt … she made it quite clear this morning. If I'm seeing her, it has to be exclusive.' Again he shrugged his shoulders.

     ‘Your stuff in her flat – is it important?' I tried to sound as sympathetic as possible.

     ‘My laptop and some paperwork. Yes, it's important. Unfortunately, she's the type who might do something vindictive.' Now I was on his side. Spiteful little cat.

     ‘Oh dear, I soothed.

 

     What a result. I felt like I'd scored the winning goal at a FA cup final. Miss Barbie in her little pink Noddy car was a devious prima donna and a bitch to boot. Yes! Yes! Yes! I wanted to run around the flat doing a victory dance, but I managed to contain myself. However, in a moment of clarity, it also occurred to me that he was using me like an agony aunt and, beyond that, there might be nothing. Zilch!

     ‘Listen to me … I'm so sorry, Beth, you didn't need to hear all that.' Oh yes I did!

     ‘I'm only sorry I can't help.' I batted my eyelashes and thought if I reached out and touched his arm it might seem a bit creepy, so I didn't. He walked over to the window and rolled his shoulders, making his back crack. Under any other circumstance, from anyone else, that action would have made me cringe, but I found that little gesture oddly erotic. At that point I knew I was a gonner.

     ‘And here she is … I've been calling her since 10 a.m. this morning. She's been ignoring me.' Slipping on his leather jacket, he thanked me for the coffee and said, ‘I'd like to do this again, Beth. If you'd like to? We could go out for coffee? Can I take your number?' For a split second I wanted to say, ‘No thanks! You're not my type,' just to see the look on his face, but I wasn't about to risk it. As my heart gave yet another mini leap and I mumbled something about ‘that would be nice', I wrote my mobile number down on a Post-it note. He folded it carefully before putting it into his pocket.

     ‘We'll speak soon!' As he left, he smiled and winked and my stomach gave a flutter. Closing the door, I felt drunk.

 

     Running into the bathroom, the face in the mirror was definitely mine, had it changed? My cheeks were rosy red; I looked like a farmer's wife. It was killing me to know what was going on in the flat downstairs. Within five minutes I had my answer as I peeped through my net curtains. Luke strode into the car park, lifted the boot of his car and placed his computer and briefcase inside. Two minutes later, still spying through the curtains, I jumped when the doorbell rang. To my surprise and delight, Luke was standing there. I must have looked like a deer stuck in headlights.

I asked, ‘Everything OK?' He nodded his head and smiled that big smile.

     ‘Fine … goods retrieved without malice.' He asked if he could step inside for a moment. In my narrow hallway his fresh, zingy aftershave completely invaded my senses. Towering over me, he made two attempts to speak before the words came out.

     ‘I have two tickets going begging for a fabulous evening … this evening. Would you be able to make use of them?' I didn't quite understand the question, and my face must have said it all.

     ‘Sorry, what I mean is, do you have a friend, a girlfriend, a boyfriend, who might enjoy a free evening out in London, all expenses paid? It would be such a shame for it to go to waste.' Then the penny dropped.

     ‘Oh, I see! Was this the Valentine's Day surprise for Karen?' He smiled and nodded.

     ‘Tickets for what?'

     ‘The Royal Philharmonic at the Albert Hall, followed by a late supper at the Dorchester.' I knew I could get any number of people to make use of those tickets … but that little devil inside my head took over.

     ‘I'm afraid my girly clan are all out tonight and, like I said, there's no Mr Right. Surely you must know someone?'

He looked disappointed. ‘I do, but I can't be bothered going through the whole Karen story again. Unless, of course, you'd like to come with me?' Now he looked hopeful.

     ‘What time?' As soon as he'd gone, I rushed into the bedroom and flung open the wardrobe. What to wear?

     Unable to contain myself, I phoned Lucy to give her my news about my unexpected date and I also told her about the card.

     ‘And you'll never guess what I got this morning?'

     ‘Apart from a knight in shining armour cleaning up your mayonnaise…'

     ‘I received a very garish-looking Valentine's card!'

     ‘What! From him …?'

     ‘No, silly, how could it be from him? I didn't even meet him till lunchtime.'

     ‘You've gone from no men to two men in such double quick time my head's spinning. What are you going to wear, Beth? Wear the gold shoes; they make your legs look long and sexy.'

     We laughed, giggled and gossiped for almost an hour. By six o'clock I'd picked the outfit I would wear and spent more than two hours on shower, hair, make-up and nails. Although my stomach kept churning with excitement, I'd made a cup of tea and a slice of toast to keep me going. I'd chosen a dark-purple, silky short dress. It was sleeveless, with a tiny gold detail at the neckline and a wide gold belt that would match the gold shoes. Searching through my underwear drawer, I fished out something black that would give good support and didn't look too tatty, not that he'd be seeing my underwear, not tonight anyway. How could I compete with Ms International Underwear model? Ha! What was I worrying about? She was history.