The One You Really Want (27 page)

A great crimson blush swept up her neck as she realised her mistake.

‘I'm not Annie's boyfriend,' Nick carried on. ‘We aren't a couple. We never have been.'

‘Oh my God, I don't
believe
it.' Covering her face, Carmen let out a squeal of shame. ‘I'm such an
idiot
.'

‘You aren't an idiot. You just got hold of the wrong end of the stick and—'

‘Never managed to find the right end,' Carmen finished for him, sliding her hands down her cheeks and watching Nick struggle heroically to maintain a straight face. ‘It's just, when I came to work at the shelter, someone told me you lived together.'

‘We share a flat. Separate bedrooms,' said Nick.

‘So anyway, I thought you were a couple,' Carmen went on, ‘and the two of you got on so well together, I suppose I just carried on thinking it. Nothing ever . . . nobody ever said anything to make me think otherwise.' Even as the words were spilling out, she knew that she might have cottoned on earlier if she had paid a bit more attention to other people and not kept herself quite so much to herself.

Which was shaming, but at least she was over that now. And Nick, generously, wasn't pointing it out.

‘Me and Annie,' he said with a chuckle. ‘Ha, wait till she hears about this.'

‘You
act
like a couple,' Carmen protested. ‘You talk about the TV shows you watched last night, you invite people round for dinner, you throw parties—'

‘That you never come to,' said Nick.

‘I'm sorry. Next time I will.' Carmen nodded vigorously to show she meant it.

‘Promise?'

‘Definitely promise.' Crikey, it was the least she could do, to make up for paying so little attention to them over the past year.

‘Come along then.' Nick pushed back his chair and stood up.

‘What?'

‘Dinner party. Our place. Before you have time to change your mind.'

Startled, Carmen said, ‘Dinner party? You mean,
now
?'

‘Absolutely. Do you think we don't know how to do them in Paddington?' Reaching for her hand, Nick indicated his scruffy, moth-eaten green sweater and said, ‘I know I may not look it, but I'm actually rather posh.'

Nancy had to physically restrain herself from putting on more make-up before Connor's arrival. It was hard, because he was clearly keen on the kind of girl who got through a couple of tubes of orange foundation and one and a half lipsticks a week. Which she wasn't, although with enough incentive she could always learn.

But there was such a thing as playing it cool and not looking like a woman in the desperate grip of a crush. Plus she couldn't trust Rennie not to say, ‘Hey, what's with all the slap? You never make this kind of effort for me.'

You could never accuse Rennie of being discreet.

Anyway,
she
was. Having resolutely gone without lipgloss, eye shadow and mascara, she had changed into plain black trousers and a grey sweater that was casual, deliberately unflashy and couldn't possibly be construed as dressing to impress.

Which would have been perfect if Connor hadn't turned up at seven o'clock wearing . . .

‘Come in.' Rennie greeted Connor with a broad grin. ‘She's waiting for you in the kitchen.'

Then, unable to resist it, he'd led the way through in order to announce wickedly, ‘Hey, Nance, your other half's here.'

Connor started to laugh when he saw Nancy.

‘Tell me you don't have concealed cameras in my bedroom.'

‘Actually no,' said Nancy. ‘I used a periscope to peep through your window. When I saw you putting on your grey sweater and black trousers I rushed to my wardrobe and changed into mine.'

The sweaters were both lambswool, both pale grey, both V-necked.

‘Your cleavage is better than mine,' Connor said cheerfully.

‘Well, maybe you should try a Wonderbra. It really helps.'

‘Beer?' said Rennie, over by the fridge.

‘A Wonderbra's better.' Patting her stomach, Nancy explained, ‘Beer tends to settle further down.'

‘Right, I'll leave the pair of you to it.' Rennie handed Connor a bottle of Beck's. ‘Got a hot date waiting for me in the living room.'

‘Rose,' Nancy explained when Rennie had left the kitchen. ‘They're watching
Gone with the Wind
. Now, about this cake you're after.'

They sat down side by side at the kitchen table with a notepad between them. Nancy did her level best to ignore the fact that Connor's right forearm - with the sleeve of his sweater pushed up - was touching her left arm. She prayed the little hairs on her own forearm wouldn't get all excited and start sticking up.

‘OK, what I
did
have in mind was a baby in a cot waving a set of dumb-bells,' Connor began. ‘Then I thought maybe that wasn't such a great idea after all, and anyhow the baby isn't here yet. So Mia said why didn't we make a cake out of all the food cravings Pam's been having, like orange juice and piccalilli, mashed banana and macaroni cheese with chillies. '

‘That wouldn't make a cake,' said Nancy. ‘That'd make a really horrible soup.'

Connor gave her a playful nudge and
pinggg
went all the little hairs on the back of her arm. ‘Now you're making fun of an innocent country lad.'

He was neither of these things, Nancy knew perfectly well, but the sound of his voice was irresistible, like being stroked with brown velvet mittens . . . OK, don't think about it, put brown velvet mittens
out
of your mind . . .

‘Are those all the things she likes?' Oh Lord, had her voice gone squeaky?

‘You're joking, Pam's been a seething mass of cravings since the day she found out she was pregnant. Garlic mushrooms,' said Connor, counting on his fingers. ‘Jammy Dodgers. Raw carrots dipped in barbeque sauce. Matches.'

Nancy had been scribbling them down. ‘D'you mean Matchmakers?'

‘I wish. Matches. She lights them, blows them out, breathes in the smell then chews the wood at the other end. Chewing matches, I ask you.' Despairingly Connor rolled his eyes. ‘I've told her she looks like Clint Eastwood.
And
she's a fire hazard. But she won't stop.'

‘OK.' Nancy was sketching a lace-trimmed Moses basket packed with the different foods he'd listed. ‘Something like this?'

Impressed, Connor surveyed the drawing. ‘You're a star. That'd be fantastic. With spent matches and indigestion tablets scattered around the basket,' he added. ‘She's getting through six packets of Rennies a day.'

‘I'm not surprised.'

‘Oh, Pam doesn't have indigestion. She just loves that chalky crunchy grittiness against her teeth when she bites into them. So can you really do this?' Connor nodded in admiration as Nancy continued to sketch. ‘By Friday?'

‘I can make a start now.' Swivelling round on her chair, Nancy reached for the Union Jack cake tin on the worktop behind her. ‘Rose made a couple of sponges this afternoon. Plain OK? With raspberry jam and buttercream?'

‘Not got any with Branston pickle and Coal Tar soap?'

‘Hang on, let me just ask Rose—'

Connor dragged her back by the belt loop on her trousers, which sent the nerve endings around Nancy's hips into a complete frenzy.

‘Come back, come back. I want to see how you do this. And you have to let me pay you, by the way.'

Oh God. ‘I don't want any money.' Nancy pulled a face, because she'd guessed he'd do this. ‘Really. It's just a hobby, something I do for fun.'

Connor nodded. ‘Mia said you'd say that.'

To change the subject Nancy said hastily, ‘How is she?'

‘Working a double shift. Busy making up for being so bad the other night.'

‘Have you forgiven her yet?' As she spoke, Nancy took a knife from the cutlery drawer and lifted the sponge cake from the tin.

‘Hey, nobody ever said having daughters was easy.' Connor's smile was wry. ‘Maybe some are easier than others. Mia went about it the wrong way, but she meant well. To be honest, it's not as if Sadie was the great love of my life.'

‘No?' Foolishly, Nancy's spirits lifted.

‘You know these things deep down, right? I mean, Sadie has her good points.'

Those would be the ones up her jumper, Nancy thought childishly.

‘But you have to try and imagine yourself with someone in fifty years' time,' Connor went on. ‘Can you picture me and Sadie together then? Jesus, she'd be nagging me to do sit-ups.'

What a witch, thought Nancy. I'd
never
nag you to do sit-ups.

‘I wouldn't be allowed proper milk.' Connor looked mournful. ‘Only that awful skimmed stuff like when you're a kid and you swirl your paintbrush in a jam jar of water.'

Nancy longed to tell him she always bought proper milk, but that would sound competitive.

‘She'd try and make me wear Lycra. Imagine,' Connor said in horror, ‘being forced to jog down to the post office for my pension, dressed up like Jimmy Savile.'

Smiling, Nancy finished shaping the sponge base and went to fetch the airtight container of ready-rolled icing.

‘How are Sadie and Mia getting on at work?'

‘Like a couple of grenades, each trying to pull each other's pins out.' Connor shook his head and took another swallow of beer. ‘I'm keeping out of the way, I tell you. Leaving them to it. As long as the members aren't affected, those two can glare at each other as much as they like.'

‘And the members aren't bothered by the glaring?' Nancy began expertly shaping the icing around the sponge to form the Moses basket.

‘Bothered? They're loving every minute. What they really have their hearts set on is a huge fight in the swimming pool,' said Connor. ‘Like that scene with Alexis and Krystle in
Dynasty
.'

‘Just as well Sadie wasn't the great love of your life.' Feeling daring, Nancy glanced up at him.

‘You're telling me. Ah well, it'll happen one day.' Pinching an off-cut of icing, Connor said easily, ‘Love at first sight, that's what I believe in. One of these days I'll be at work or in a bar or just driving down the street and
bam
, there she'll be. Our eyes will meet and that'll be it. In a split second I'll know she's the one for me.'

Which was all very admirable and romantic and lovely, of
course
it was, but hardly the kind of thing you wanted to hear under the circumstances.

‘Does that make me sound like a big old girl's blouse?' As he said it, Connor's hand was edging across to steal another bit of icing. Nancy briefly contemplated nipping at the tips of his fingers with her knife.

Then again, maybe not. It was unlikely to make Connor fall in love with her on the spot.

‘If I grew a moustache,' Rennie was back in search of more beers, ‘do you think I'd look like Clark Gable?'

‘You'd have to learn to drive a horse-drawn carriage,' said Nancy.

‘Rhett Butler fell in love with Scarlett the first time he saw her.' Connor sounded encouraged. ‘And you couldn't call him a big girl's blouse.'

‘They didn't live happily ever after,' Nancy reminded him. ‘What if you set your heart on someone who wasn't interested in you?'

‘Easy.' Accepting another bottle of Beck's from Rennie, Connor said, ‘I'd march her down to the Lazy B and strap her to one of the treadmills. Then I'd turn it up to maximum speed.' He winked at Nancy. ‘And wouldn't let her off until she said yes.'

 

‘What time do you call this?' Rennie demanded when Carmen arrived home. ‘Where have you been? It's two o'clock in the
morning
.'

‘What are you, my parole officer?'

‘I was worried about you.' His eyes narrowing, Rennie said suspiciously, ‘You haven't seen
him
, have you? The pilfering plumber?'

‘Of course I haven't.' Carmen peeled off her coat. ‘And you know where I was, I left a message on the answering machine.'

‘
I
leave messages on answering machines.' Rennie was scornful. ‘It doesn't mean I'm telling the truth.'

‘Well, I'm not you,' said Carmen, ‘and I always tell the truth. Nick from work invited me back to his place for dinner. We had bacon and eggs with tinned tomatoes and fried bread. And doughnuts with custard for pudding.'

‘I like doughnuts. Did you bring one back for me?'

‘No. Anyway, we talked for ages, and it was great. Then his flatmate Annie came home with her boyfriend and we ended up playing Monopoly. It was fun. We had a brilliant time.'

‘Hang on.' Rennie was frowning. ‘I thought Nick and Annie were a couple.'

‘Nooo,' Carmen said scornfully. ‘Just flatmates.'

‘So this Nick bloke, what's he like?'

‘Nice. They're both nice. Oh, don't look at me like that.' Carmen flapped her hands in protest. ‘I don't fancy Nick. He's just someone I work with.'

‘But does he fancy you?'

‘No way! He just bought me a coffee to cheer me up after I told him it was all over between me and Joe. You,' she rolled her eyes, ‘have been watching too many soaps.'

‘Did you tell him why you and Joe broke up?' Rennie persisted.

‘No.'

‘Does he know who you are?'

‘No.' Carmen looked defensive.

‘That you live in this house?'