The One You Really Want (22 page)

‘Not long. Early days. But, you know, it's going well.'

‘That's great.' Annie was genuinely pleased. ‘What's his name?'

‘Joe. He's a plumber.' Gosh, it felt brilliant to say his name.

‘You two must definitely come along to our next party then,' said Annie. ‘We'd love to meet him.'

Nick, dumping a just-washed baking tin into her hands, said, ‘But only if he's wearing his purple goldfish socks.'

 

‘Oh, and could you write Tasmin Ferreira in the appointment book for four o'clock tomorrow afternoon? She's coming in for a second fitting,' Zac called through from the workroom. ‘Doreen, sweetie, if you sit there you'll get your tail chopped off. Go and see Nancy. Tell her I'd love a cup of tea, white, two sugars.'

Nancy smiled as Doreen came trotting into the shop. It was only Wednesday, but already she knew she was going to enjoy working here. Zac was fun, gossipy and indiscreet, filling her in on all the background details of his clients. The website also brought in a fair amount of business and she was kept busy replying to emails, answering the phone and chasing up orders for new and original materials. Zac was extra chirpy this morning because a shop in Tokyo had placed an order for twenty of his studded suede skirts, evidently oblivious to the fact that while they looked great, the sharp-edged backs of the studs meant you couldn't actually sit down in them.

‘You have to suffer to look fashionable,' Zac had airily declared when Nancy had pointed this out to him. ‘Sitting is for wimps.'

The phone rang as Nancy was dropping tea bags into two cups.

‘Zac?' She covered the receiver with one hand. ‘It's your father.'

A mixture of emotions crossed Zac's face as he put down the taffeta bodice he was currently working on and came through to take the phone. Perching on the edge of the desk in his lemon-yellow trousers and pink V-neck merino wool sweater, he said, ‘Hi, Dad, how are you?'

Not in a camp way at all.

Nancy, making the tea, was unable to avoid listening to Zac's half of the conversation, which swung from carburettors to football, then to central heating systems and finally gardening.

‘OK, Dad, you look after yourself now,' Zac said eventually, with genuine affection in his voice. ‘I'll be down to see you next weekend. Take care. Bye.'

The tea was no longer as hot as it might have been, but Nancy gave it to him anyway. For the past ten minutes Zac had sounded so completely heterosexual that it almost came as a shock when he took a slurp and said, ‘Ooh, yum, just what I needed!' in his normal voice.

Catching the look on her face, Zac waggled his free hand in embarrassment. ‘OK, you don't have to say it, I know how pathetic I am. The thirty-five-year-old male who can't tell his father he's gay. I'm sorry, but if you start lecturing me, I shall have to sack you.'

‘I wasn't going to. I'm the one who couldn't tell her mother her husband was having an affair, remember?' Pushing the biscuit tin towards him, Nancy said comfortingly, ‘Have a Hobnob.'

‘He's retired now.' Zac heaved a sigh. ‘But he worked on the docks for forty years. Mum died when I was twenty. I love my father, but he's a man's man. He wouldn't understand. And I don't want to upset him.'

‘Really, you don't have to explain. I think it's nice that you care so much about him. Where does he live?' said Nancy.

‘Weston-super-Mare. I'm all the family he has. Every two or three weeks I go down there for the weekend. Put on my proper manly clothes,' Zac said with a wry smile, ‘and my butch manly voice, and we spend our time together doing manly things like stripping car engines, fishing, gardening and watching hours of football on the TV.'

‘He never remarried after your mum died?'

‘No. There've been a couple of lady friends. One lasted almost two years, but it fizzled out last summer. I asked him where Deirdre was and he just said, “Son, she couldn't hold a candle to your mother.” I didn't try and find out what had gone wrong. Well, we don't really talk about those kind of things.' With an elaborate shudder Zac said, ‘Which I'm quite happy about. Imagine if he'd started telling me about their sex life.'

‘Does he ever ask when you're going to settle down and make him a grandfather?' Nancy was curious; surely Zac's father must suspect by now that something was amiss.

‘I invented a girlfriend.' Zac bit into a biscuit. ‘Samantha, her name was. We had an on-off relationship for eight years. Long-distance too,' he mumbled through a mouthful of Hobnob. ‘I told Dad she was working in Australia. Anyway, it did the trick. When Sam and I broke up a couple of years ago I was devastated. She was the love of my life. Going to take me a good long time to get over her - ooh, I'd say a decade at least.'

The things we do to protect our parents, thought Nancy as he crunched happily on his biscuit. She swung round on her chair as the bell above the door went ting, and saw Rennie enter the shop. Zac, spotting him too, promptly began to choke and spray crumbs all over the desk.

‘Oh
my
,' Zac murmured, clearly impressed.

‘What are you doing here?' said Nancy.

‘I used to be a big star. How the mighty are fallen.' Rennie shrugged tragically. ‘These days I'm nothing but a lowly errand boy. Rose has finished her latest creation and she sent me down here with it.' He handed the plastic carrier bag over to Zac and said, ‘Hi, I'm Rennie.'

Zac looked as if he'd forgotten how to breathe, let alone open a carrier bag and peer inside. ‘I know who you are. Good to meet you. Zac Parris.'

‘Why couldn't Rose deliver it?' said Nancy.

‘She's out in the back garden cleaning the outsides of all the windows. I'm telling you, that house has never been so clean. She's supposed to be down here on holiday,' Rennie marvelled, ‘and she never stops. Is that a cup of tea?'

‘Actually, it's a wild alligator,' said Nancy.

Looking excited, Zac hopped down from the desk. ‘I'll make you a cup of tea!'

‘Also, your ex rang,' said Rennie.

Nancy's heart jumped. ‘Jonathan?'

‘Of course Jonathan. How many ex-husbands d'you have? If he asked you to go back with him, would you go?'

‘No.' For heaven's sake, why did people keep
asking
her that?

‘Good. So you won't be cross when I tell you that he asked to speak to you and I said you were too exhausted to come to the phone because we'd been up all night shagging.'

Zac exploded with delight. Nancy gasped and said, ‘You didn't!'

‘I did. And in my best rock star voice, too.'

‘What did Jonathan say?'

‘Jonathan the jerk? Didn't know whether or not to believe me. Sounded a bit taken aback.' Rennie's eyes glittered. ‘Asked me to tell you to give him a ring. I said presumably not a diamond one.'

‘No!' Nancy exclaimed.

‘Bloody did. Why not?' demanded Rennie. ‘He deserves it.'

Zac was gazing at him, lost in admiration. His eyes travelled speculatively over Rennie's lean, hard body from the turned-up collar of his old leather jacket to the frayed hems of his jeans.

‘I'm working on something at the moment that would be perfect on you.' Zac blurted the words out in a rush. ‘Double-breasted jacket, black and white stripes, leather-trimmed velvet lapels. If I make one up for you, would you wear it?'

Rennie hesitated. He looked at the supermarket carrier bag containing the green and gold cobwebby cardigan Rose had completed this morning.

‘Would it be knitted?'

Zac frantically flapped his hands. ‘No,
no
.'

‘Stripes.' Rennie looked thoughtful. ‘Will it make me look like Richard Whitely?'

‘It would not,' Zac said very firmly indeed. ‘Look, let me whizz it up, then it's yours to do what you want with.' Nancy held her breath, praying Rennie wouldn't suggest giving it to Rose to finish cleaning the windows. ‘If you hate it, fair enough. If you love it, just tell people where it came from. Can't say fairer than that, can you?'

‘Absolutely not. Start measuring,' said Rennie with a grin, because Zac's fingers were already twitching towards his tape measure. ‘One more thing.'

‘What?' From the look on Zac's face, if Rennie suggested he licked the floor clean with his tongue, he'd be only too happy to oblige.

Gravely, Rennie said, ‘Please don't make me look like Elton John.'

‘Oh my God, he is
divine
,' Zac breathed twenty minutes later when Rennie had sauntered out of the shop. ‘Couldn't you just—'

‘I don't think you could,' said Nancy, before his imagination rocketed into overdrive. ‘Rennie probably wouldn't let you.'

‘Spoilsport. I know he's straight. But he just has that . . .
thing
about him, doesn't he? It's in his eyes. When he looks at you, he makes you feel so special, you start thinking anything could happen. David Beckham's the same,' Zac drooled. ‘He has those eyes too.'

‘I didn't know you knew David Beckham.' Nancy was impressed.

‘Well, I don't. I mean, I've never actually
met
him,' said Zac, ‘but you only have to see the photos.' Mischievously he added, ‘You can't help wondering if you might be the one to change them.'

‘Well, don't get your hopes up.'

‘Must be fab sharing a house with Rennie though.' Zac was going all dreamy-eyed again. ‘Like living inside a copy of
OK
magazine. I mean, he's just so . . . glamorous.'

Nancy, picturing Rennie stretched out across the sofa dipping crisps in Heinz salad cream while engrossed in
Emmerdale
or
EastEnders
, said, ‘It's more like living inside a copy of
TV Soaps
. And he's useless around the kitchen. Any excuse not to do the washing-up.'

Zac looked scandalised. ‘He has
charisma.
You can't expect people with charisma to do the washing-up.'

‘It's Carmen's house,' said Nancy, ‘and she's known Rennie since she was sixteen. As far as Carmen's concerned, Rennie's a lazy sod and there's no reason why he can't do his share of the work.'

Pained, Zac said, ‘That's like inviting the Queen to a party, then handing her a black binbag afterwards and asking her to clear up the empties.'

‘Yes, well. Carmen still isn't happy with Rennie. She hasn't forgiven him yet for the Joe thing. Rennie might have charisma,' Nancy added drily as the phone began to ring, ‘but Carmen's immune to it.'

 

Carmen may not have forgiven Rennie for the below-the-belt comments he'd made about Joe, but they'd turned out to be unfounded and it was probably about time they put the awkwardness behind them.

Besides, Nancy had taken Rose off to the West End to see
Miss Saigon
- Rose was a sucker for a musical - so she didn't have much choice.

‘Rennie!' Carmen yelled down the stairs.

Nothing.

‘Rennie!'
She remained rooted to the spot.

‘What?' Rennie called up from the living room.

‘Can you come up here?'

‘UP HERE!' Carmen bellowed, wanting to stamp her feet but not daring to. ‘NOW!'

Probably deliberately, he took his time.
Coronation Street
was on; she wouldn't have put it past him to wait until the end-of-episode titles were scrolling up the screen. Finally she heard Rennie reach the doorway behind her.

‘Up here.
Now
,' he mimicked lightly. ‘It's my body you're after, I take it. Overcome with lust all of a sudden, couldn't bear to wait a minute longer—'

‘
Moth
,' Carmen interrupted, still with her back to him. She knew it was ridiculous to be terrified of something so harmless but moths, especially big ones, had been a phobia of hers since childhood. If she took her eyes off this one for a split second it might flutter out of sight. And that would be enough to give her nightmares for a fortnight.

‘Sorry?'

Rennie was such a bugger. If she could only bring herself to move, she would have clocked him one. He knew perfectly well what she'd just said.

Still, the words beggars and choosers sprang to mind.

‘Moth. Over there. On the curtain pole.' Clutching her raspberry-pink bath towel round her, Carmen pointed a trembling outstretched finger.

‘Yuk, moth. Let's hope it's not a big one.' Cautiously reaching her side, Rennie shuddered exaggeratedly and cried, ‘Oh God, it's massive! Get it away from me! Call the
police
.'

‘Shut up.' Carmen spoke through gritted teeth, because Rennie wasn't remotely scared of moths. ‘Just get rid of it.'

‘Please,' prompted Rennie.
Dammit
.

‘Please.'

‘So are we friends again now?'

Bloody Rennie. ‘OK.'

‘Don't sound very sure.'

Exasperated - and still frozen to the spot in terror - Carmen hissed, ‘I'm sure, I'm sure. We're friends again,
OK
?'

Rennie was in front of her now, clearly enjoying himself. ‘Best friends?'

‘Just stop buggering about and get rid of the sodding thing, will you?
Yes
, best friends,' squeaked Carmen as he headed for the door.

Grinning broadly, Rennie turned back and made his way over to the curtain pole. Scooping the moth into his hand, he opened the bedroom window and flung it out. It wasn't until he'd closed and locked the window that Carmen was able to breathe again. Weak with relief, she sat down on the edge of the bed and said grumpily, ‘Thanks.'