Three Amazing Things About You (16 page)

What, really?

No way
.

But it was, it
was
him. And how ironic, when they’d just been making fun of Zander’s posh name.

Because who should Lena be having dinner with? Why, none other than tomato-soup Giles.
And typically, the waiter was leading them to the table right next to their own.

Flo held her breath. It wasn’t until she’d been seated and had made herself comfortable that Lena glanced across and saw her.

Talk about a double-take.

‘Good lord, it’s you. What are you doing here?’

What did she seriously expect by way of an answer?
Oh, this is where we come to do our aerobics class
. . .

‘Just having dinner with my friends,’ replied Flo.

Lena’s pale blue gaze took in every detail, from Bridget’s hand-knitted peach cardigan to Annie’s wrinkled cleavage to Mavis’s overenthusiastic application of shimmery violet eyeshadow.

‘Right. I see.’ She turned to address Giles, lowering her voice but not enough. ‘I thought it might be some kind of geriatric hen night.’

Annie raised her eyebrows in disbelief. Flo shook her head fractionally, indicating that a stand-up fight here in their favourite restaurant might not be ideal. Luckily, her friends had heard all about Lena, and thanks to their jobs were capable of handling rudeness with humour and grace.

‘I see what you mean,’ Mavis murmured under her breath. ‘What a charmer.’

‘She’s the one I told you about,’ Lena was now explaining to Giles. ‘The one looking after that damn cat.’

‘Right.’ Giles, Flo realised, was giving her a speculative look. ‘You know, I’m sure I know her from somewhere. I’ve definitely seen her before.’

Whoops, this could be interesting. Flo turned her attention to the food on her plate. She’d been sober that evening, so recognising Jaaahls had been easy. Whereas he’d been drinking, which had presumably reduced his own memories to a murky haze.

Oh, but awful though she was in her own way, surely even Lena would be appalled if she knew what an obnoxious lowlife her dining companion really was.

‘We’ll kick off with a bottle of Saint-Émilion,’ Giles told the waiter. ‘And I’ll have a lager too. Bring them both straight away, yeah?’

‘
Please,
’ Mavis prompted under her breath, marvelling at his lack of manners.

‘You.’ Giles clicked his fingers, and Flo realised he was doing it to attract her attention. ‘It’s bugging me now. Do you work in one of the pubs in Clifton?’

‘Me? No.’ Flo shook her head.

‘Are you in business banking?’

‘Of course she isn’t.’ Lena said it with a mixture of amusement and scorn. ‘I told you before, she wipes old people’s backsides for a living in a care home. Eurgh.’ She shuddered with revulsion. ‘I don’t know how people can bear to do that. Turns my stomach just to think of it.’

Next to Flo, Annie said, ‘Just as well we aren’t all as sensitive as you, then, isn’t it? There’s always going to be people whose backsides need wiping.’ Flashing Lena and Giles a sunny smile, she added, ‘Could be you one day.’

Lena grimaced at the awfulness of this prospect. Giles said, ‘True, true, and good for you. We’re grateful to people like you for doing those sorts of jobs.’

‘I know.’ Annie nodded pleasantly, but there was an edge to her voice. ‘And aren’t we lucky? Sometimes our employers even pay us minimum wage.’

‘Mesdames? M’sieur? Ees everything all right?’ Having noticed the interaction between the tables, the maître d’ had materialised to ensure all was well.

‘
Bof, ça va
,’ Flo replied politely. ‘
Ils manquent un peu de charme et des manières mais vous inquiétez pas, nous pouvons le surmonter. Il est simplement ignorant et condescendant; pourtant nous habituons aux personnes comme ça. Aussi nous avons presque fini notre dîner, vingt minutes de plus et nous allons partir.
’

Basically, she’d told him all was well, they could easily cope with two people lacking in charm and manners, and in twenty minutes they’d be out of here anyway. Saying it fast hopefully meant Lena and Giles wouldn’t be able to work out what she’d said.

‘
Ah, oui. Merci, madame, merci beaucoup
. And I completely agree with you about the manners.’ The maître d’ smiled, tilted his head at Flo and moved away. He hadn’t indiscreetly said the final sentence in English, of course; he’d still been speaking French.

And the look on Lena and Giles’s faces was gratifying.

‘Are you
French
?’ Lena was now staring at Flo in disbelief.

‘No.’

‘So how do you know how to speak it?’

‘I learned at school. Then learned a bit more at university.’

Lena looked as if she’d swallowed a hedgehog.

‘And what did you just say to that bloke?’

‘Nothing much, just told him everything was fine and how much we were enjoying our evening. The food’s great here. Such a brilliant chef . . .’

Giles was still watching her, clearly puzzling over where he knew her from. Flo turned back to Bridget, Annie and Mavis, and the waiter approached Lena and Giles’s table with their menus.

Only half listening, Flo heard him say to them, ‘I can recommend the mussels, which are excellent tonight and are cooked in either white wine and cream or a marinara sauce. And the soup of the day is cauliflower with toasted almonds.’

‘Ugh,’ said Lena, her mouth shrivelling in disgust. ‘That sounds awful, I can’t stand cauliflower. Cauliflower is rank.’

Such lovely diners. Honestly, this restaurant’s so lucky to have them
.

Then Flo saw the expression on Giles’s pudgy face; he was frowning into his drink, lost in thought, his memory inadvertently nudged by the waiter into almost remembering what had been troubling him up until now.

‘Soup . . .’ Muttering the word, he raised his head.

‘Oh Jaaahls, don’t have the soup, just the smell of it’ll make me want to be sick!’

Almost there now. Flo readied herself. Finally Giles was staring directly at her once more, like a bull.

‘It was you,’ he said slowly. ‘It was you, wasn’t it? Who threw the soup at me.’

‘What?’ Lena put down her menu. ‘What in God’s name are you talking about?’

‘Yes.’ Flo nodded at Giles. ‘It was me.’

‘OK, I don’t know what’s going on here. When did she throw soup at you? Was this in another restaurant?’ Lena glared at Flo as if she might have had the temerity to be working as a waitress.

‘Not in a restaurant. Out in the street,’ said Giles. ‘I’d never seen her before in my life. She just turned into a complete madwoman and started yelling abuse at me. Next thing I knew, she’d ripped the lid off a can of soup and fucking chucked it all over me. Tomato, it was. My Dolce and Gabbana shirt was completely fucked. Five hundred quid, that shirt cost me.’

Flo raised her eyebrows. ‘You said four hundred last time.’

‘Are you serious?’ Her eyes out on stalks, Lena was quivering with outrage. ‘She just did that to you in the street for no reason at all? When did this happen? I hope you called the police and had her arrested.’ Shaking her head, she turned to Flo. ‘What are you, completely deranged? My God, and you’re living in our flat – it’s
so
unfair! If my grandmother had known what you were like, she’d
never
have let you move in!’

Luckily it wasn’t the kind of restaurant where all the diners suddenly fell silent; other conversations were carrying on and there was enough noise in the room to ensure they weren’t the centre of attention. Which made it possible for Flo to say evenly, ‘It happened a few weeks ago and I didn’t do it for no reason at all. There was a homeless man outside the pub and your friend here thought it would be amusing to stand in front of him burning a fifty-pound note.’

There, she’d said it. Lena deserved to know the ugly truth about her dining companion. So what if Giles was mortified at being publicly outed? He deserved it. And yes, Lena’s eyes were widening in disbelief and—

‘Bwahahahahaha, bloody funny.’ Spluttering into his drink, Giles grinned at Lena. ‘Always good for a laugh, that one. The old jokes are the best.
Bloody
funny . . .’

So much for being mortified. But surely by now even Lena would be ashamed of him.

Except she didn’t appear to be. The momentary flicker of dismay – a suggestion of actual humanity – had vanished, and she was now back to gazing adoringly at Giles, a smile playing on her lips. When he burst out laughing once more, she said brightly, ‘Oh, I know that one, Peregrine Hamilton-Carr did it the morning after the Blue Moon Ball . . .
hilarious
!’

‘I know, right?’ Giles rocked back in his chair, eyes streaming with mirth. ‘Comedy gold!’

Flo shook her head; Lena was evidently one of those yes girls, the kind that would never dream of criticising their boyfriend, choosing instead to go along with anything and everything he said.

‘Oh my God, what a dick,’ said Annie.

‘And she’s acting like he just won an Olympic medal,’ said Bridget.

‘For prize dickery,’ Mavis snorted.

‘I just thought of something.’ Annie clutched Flo’s arm. ‘If you and Zander end up getting married, that means—’

‘What?’ Lena had jerked round to stare at them. ‘
What
did you just say? OK, how do you even know about my brother, and why would he ever end up marrying
her
?’

Whoops
. Flo froze. OK, this definitely wasn’t meant to be happening. Was there any way out of it?

But she’d underestimated Annie, who was speedy when it counted.

‘Excuse me? What are you talking about? I have no idea who your brother is.’ She shook her head at Lena, signalling bafflement. ‘I’m talking about how brilliant it’d be if Flo marries my son.’

‘Your son.’ Lena had already noted Annie’s overbleached hair, exuberant dress sense and purple nail polish. Having listened to her strong Bristolian accent and cackling laugh, she was evidently sceptical, to say the least. ‘You’re seriously telling me your son is called Zander?’

‘Only my eldest son,’ said Annie. ‘The others are called Tristram and Tarquin.’ She glanced down at her cleavage and brushed away a few focaccia crumbs before returning her attention to Lena. ‘You can’t call them all Zander, can you? That would be stupid.’

‘Oh my God, how much of a wally is that guy? And what a cow
she
is!’ They’d spilled out of the restaurant, laughing and clutching each other in hysterics. Gasping for breath, Bridget said, ‘Did you see her face when Annie reeled off those names? I thought I was going to wet myself.’

‘D’you reckon she believed me?’ Annie, whose sons were actually called Lee, Dennis and Jason, mimicked Lena’s voice. ‘But how can your children
possibly
have names like that when you’re so
common
?’

Flo said, ‘She doesn’t know what to think now, not after you told her your real dad was an earl. You were so convincing. Even I almost believed you.’

‘My mum used to be in service. She worked as an under housemaid at Kilburton Castle.’ Annie snorted with laughter. ‘She used to say I was the earl’s daughter, making out it was a joke, but knowing her, I reckon it was true.’

‘You should wear a tiara,’ said Bridget. ‘All day, every day.’

‘While I’m busy wiping other people’s bums.’ Annie pulled a face at the memory of Lena’s disgust. ‘Bloody hell, Flo, I hope this Zander bloke’s nicer than his sister.’

‘He is.’ Flo nodded as they made their way towards the taxi rank on Whiteladies Road. ‘Much nicer.’

‘Well, good, but you’re going to have your work cut out if you two carry on seeing each other. How will you cope? That sister of his doesn’t like you one bit.’

‘It’s early days.’ There was a fluttery sensation in Flo’s throat. ‘Way too soon to be worrying about things getting serious.’ She added flippantly, ‘Like you said, he might already have found someone else in Canada.’

‘I know, but I’m just saying. She’s a piece of work, that one.’

‘Except she doesn’t
do
any work.’ Flo grinned, briefly imagining herself and Zander getting married, with Lena dressed as a bridesmaid with a malevolent gleam in her eye and a gun hidden behind her back.

‘Well, good luck. But I don’t envy you,’ said Annie. ‘She’s not going to make life easy for you. That one’s a witch.’

Dear Rose,

I love gardening.

I’m shy with strangers.

One day I want to surprise everyone by doing something unexpected and amazing, so I can be proud of myself.

My husband was the love of my life until he left me suddenly three years ago for another woman. I was devastated and thought I’d never get over it, but I kind of have. I’d like to meet a new man but can’t see that ever happening, because who would want me? I’m hardly a catch. So my life is quite boring, but it’s OK, I’m used to being on my own now.

The thing is, I bumped into him in town yesterday and we ended up going for a coffee. He’s not happy with his girlfriend and says he misses me. He wants to come over to my flat on Friday night. Just for sex, basically. I know, not very romantic, is it? I should really tell him to get lost. I don’t love him any more, I know that now, but I do miss being intimate with a man and it would kind of make up for the fact that when he left me three years ago I had no warning it was going to happen.

Rose, I’m so tempted, but would it make me feel miserable all over again? He’s already hinted that it could become a regular arrangement (his girlfriend thinks he goes out to play darts every Friday night, but he doesn’t).

Help me, please. What should I do?

Julia

Dear Julia,

You sound strong to me. Your ex-husband sounds weak. He knocked your self-confidence and it took a while for you to get back on your feet.

Now, I’m sure most advice-givers would tell you to turn him down flat because you’re better than he is and he doesn’t deserve the opportunity to hurt you again. Nor does he deserve sex.

This is all true, but I think you
do
deserve sex. You deserve closure. He took your love life away from you without warning. If you can make a pact with yourself that it will only happen once, I really do think you should sleep with him for that one last time. Then, afterwards, tell him it’s over for good. Use him like he hoped to use you. Get your own back on him and grow in confidence as a result. You already know he’s a pathetic excuse for a man and you deserve better. Hammer that last nail into the coffin of your relationship. It’s what Madonna would do, isn’t it? Oh, and make sure he uses a condom too.