A Girl Like You (10 page)

‘I’m going to talk to Rich,’ nods Sophie. ‘We can’t turn up to his party with a gibbering drunk he doesn’t know and not even say hi.’

‘You’re a hi,’ says Robert, and starts laughing helplessly.

‘OK,’ I say. ‘I’ll get him out of here.’

I turn to Robert. ‘Robert. Robert.’ He turns to me and closes one eye to focus. The other is bloodshot. ‘Let’s go downstairs.’

‘Abby-gail,’ he singsongs, obediently following me out the door. I turn as we leave and see Plum looking over. She’s just talking to the tall guy now, who looks completely besotted by her. I give her a questioning thumbs up and she nods.

‘I’m not ash drunk ash I’m pretending,’ whispers Robert, extremely loudly, stumbling down the stairs to the main bar.

‘Really,’ I say, scanning the room for a spare table. Spying one, I grab Robert, sit him down, and then get a pint of water for him and a glass of wine for me. When I get back, he’s slumped in his chair, blinking groggily.

‘What happened, Robert?’ I say.

‘You never call me Rob,’ he replies, making a valiant attempt to sit up straight. ‘Everyone elsh does. Why?’

‘I don’t think of you as a Rob,’ I say. ‘You’re a Robert.’

‘I am. I am Robert.’ He sighs. ‘Was at another fucking 30th. For Dave. Another fucking groomsman.’

‘Dave, Luke’s groomsman, yes,’ I nod. I’ve never met him.

‘And his sister is the . . . the one I told you about.’

‘Which one?’ I say, confused. Robert never talks about his ladyfriends in any kind of detail.

‘The one. The one from the party. With the train and no shoes.’

‘Dave’s sister is the girl you proposed to?’ I ask. ‘Like, 10 years ago?’

‘Yes. Her. Stupid. Stupid Robert.’

‘Did something happen?’

He sighs, and swings his head to the side and gazes at me. ‘You’re so pretty.’

‘Robert!’ I snap. I’m intrigued. ‘Tell me what happened.’

‘She was there. Louisa.’ He rolls out the name slowly. Looooeeeeeeessaaaaa.

‘Oh, shit,’ I say. ‘But, surely . . .’

‘Surely it was years ago. Surely you’re over it, Robert. Don’t call me Shirley. HA!’ Robert laughs and slaps his knee.

‘How’s it going?’ says a voice, and I look up. It’s Luke.

I stand up and, with my back to Robert, ask quietly: ‘What happened with Louisa?’

‘He told you about her?’ says Luke in surprise. ‘God, she’s an evil bitch. We saw her, she’s with her husband, everyone was very civil, then Rob drank straight whisky for two hours.’

‘That’s such a bad idea,’ I shudder at the thought.

Luke nods. ‘So was Louisa.’

‘He told me about proposing to her,’ I say as quietly as I can, so Robert won’t hear.

‘Which time?’ replies Luke with a wry smile.

‘It happened more than once?’

Luke nods.

‘What are we whishpering about?’ says Robert, who has hopped up out of his chair and is propping his chin over my shoulder unsteadily.

‘Whisky,’ I say. ‘You are one messy drunk.’

‘I’m not,’ he says indignantly, and belches pungently. ‘Oops. Damn wine.’

I look down and see that he’s just drunk my entire glass of white wine.

‘Nice move, hotshot. That was mine. The water is yours.’

Robert sighs, hiccups and assumes a hangdog expression. ‘I’m sawry . . .’

Luke and I exchange glances as Sophie comes up.

‘How’s it going down here?’

‘Disastrous,’ I say.

‘Soph-AY!’ exclaims Robert delightedly. He pushes past Luke and I to hug her, but loses his balance and tackles her to the floor, knocking over a table and chair on the way. The noise is almighty. Everyone in the pub immediately falls silent and looks over.

‘Ow,’ says Sophie, blushing scarlet as she gets up, trying to look extremely sober and disapproving so everyone knows she’s not the drunk idiot in this situation.

Robert is lying groggily on the floor, looking mildly confused. He is clearly the drunk idiot in this situation.

‘We have to get him out of here,’ I say to Luke and Sophie, looking over at the bartenders who are talking amongst themselves. ‘We are two seconds away from being kicked out.’

‘Agreed,’ says Luke, and leans over to hoist Robert up. The three of us drag/support him out of the bar and into the cool night air. God, he’s heavy. I immediately light a stressed cigarette.

‘Oh! Yes. Cigarette for Robert,’ says Robert, pushing us off him and trying to walk alone.

‘No,’ I say. God, drunk people are annoying. ‘We’re taking you home and putting you to bed.’

‘Naughty!’ exclaims Robert, and promptly falls over again.

By the time we find a black cab willing to take us home, it’s past 11 pm. I text Plum on the way, saying an emergency came up and I had to leave. We carry a nearly-asleep Robert to bed (‘On his side!’ I say. ‘He might choke on his own vomit.’ ‘He’s not Jim Morrison,’ replies Sophie. ‘I thought it was the lead singer from AC/DC?’ I say. ‘It was Jimi Hendrix, but is this important right now?’ says Luke) and then we retire to the living room.

‘What a car crash,’ I comment, opening a bottle of wine and getting out three glasses. I haven’t heard from Plum yet, but I think I should probably go back to the party.

‘You should have seen him when it happened,’ says Luke. ‘Poor bastard. She annihilated him.’

‘I can’t imagine it,’ say Sophie and I in unison.

‘Tell me the whole story,’ I say.

‘Ah, look, Robert will tell you himself one day,’ says Luke uneasily.

‘God! I hate the way you won’t gossip,’ says Sophie despairingly.

‘Sorry, darling,’ says Luke, grinning at her. She smiles hopefully back, and he relents. ‘The short version is: Rob and Dave and I were friends at school. Our dads all went to university together, and we all used to go on holiday in the same village in France and have BBQs together every night, that sort of thing. And Rob always had a thing for Louisa, who is Dave’s big sister . . . With me so far?’

Sophie and I nod.

‘Then they finally got together when we were about 22. It was pretty serious, he proposed when he was hammered, then came down the following weekend and proposed properly. With a ring and everything. She said no and broke up with him,’ – Sophie and I gasp – ‘and he ploughed his study and came down to work in the City instead – I think just to be closer to her . . . and then she continued to string him along. For years, she turned to him whenever she broke up with someone. He moved to Boston to study, to get away from her, but still, he’d fly back whenever she asked.’

‘Bitch,’ say Sophie and I in unison.

‘I know,’ says Luke. Like most men, Luke’s very good at gossiping, despite pretending to hate it. ‘And when he was 26, they began seeing each other properly again, and after six months, he proposed. Again.’

‘No!’ hiss Sophie and I in unison again.

‘Yep. And she said no. Turned out she’d been cheating on him the whole time. With the guy who is now her husband. It wasn’t a car crash. Rob was roadkill.’

‘NO!’ we shout.

‘Poor darling Rob . . .’ says Sophie sadly. ‘No wonder he’s so allergic to commitment now.’

‘Wowsers,’ I say. ‘That’s so awful.’

‘Oh, God, pity is the last thing he wants,’ says Luke, groaning. ‘I should never have said anything. He’s a very private guy.’

‘I’ll never say a thing,’ I say.

‘Me either,’ says Sophie. ‘Cross my heart.’

She makes a very serious cross-my-heart sign, and then a zipping-her-mouth-and-throwing-away-the-key gesture.

My phone beeps. It’s a text from Plum.

Where are you??? We’re going to Chloe . . . I need you! Get the fuck back here x

‘Can I be bothered to go all the way back down to South Ken?’ I ask.

‘No way,’ says Sophie.

A second text. From Henry.

Abigay. Please come back. I need you to help me be bulletproof too.

They’re in league. I sigh and look up at the guys. ‘My public needs me. I must venture forth once more. It’s only 20 minutes. Will you come?’

‘I’ll call a cab,’ says Luke. ‘We’ll drop you on the way home.’

Chapter Thirteen

By the time I get back to Chloe, a basement bar and club in South Kensington, it’s nearly midnight. Sophie and Luke drop me on the corner, and trying not to feel self-conscious, I stride towards the 30-people-long queue.

‘Um,’ I say, to get the list bitch’s attention. (I’m not being rude. It’s what they call them.) She turns to me and blinks heavily-mascara-ed eyes. She’s blonde, older than she wants to be, with major attitude.

‘I’m on the list,’ I say tentatively. ‘Abigail? Wood? My friends are inside?’

‘I don’t have your name, join the queue,’ she turns away abruptly.

I’m contemplating begging or bribing, and wondering how you do either of those things, when—

‘Imma!’ shouts a male voice. ‘She’s with me!’

I look around to see where the voice is coming from, but can’t see anyone.

The list bitch, her face blank, points me down the stairs leading to the basement courtyard.

As I walk down the stairs, I try to ignore the tiny thrill from (a) going to a club I’ve never been to before (b) going to a club at all because Peter and I never ever did and (c) skipping the queue.

A few intrepid smokers are down in the courtyard, risking the rain.

‘I hope I get a thank you for that,’ says the same voice, and I look up into the eyes of a rather handsome blonde guy smoking a cigarette.

‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘That was you?’

‘Indeed,’ he nods. He talks like Roger Moore, sort of posh and knowing. ‘Cigarette?’ Why not. ‘Imma isn’t the friendliest, but that’s her job.’

‘I bet she’s a real bleeding heart the rest of the time,’ I nod, trying to smoke coolly and ignore the headrush.

‘Oh, she is,’ he says. ‘Nurses a sick grandmother. Adopts kittens. The works.’

‘I should get her number. We could hang out.’

He grins. ‘I’m Toby, by the way.’

‘Abigail.’

We smile at each other. I’m enjoying this, somehow I feel far less nervous than usual. All I have to do is maintain steady eye contact and not babble.

The rain intensifies, and Toby pulls an umbrella out of his blazer pocket.

‘You were a Boy Scout, weren’t you,’ I say, arching an eyebrow.

‘Well, I tried to be a Brownie, but they wouldn’t let me. Bastards,’ he says sadly. I can’t help but smirk. (Darn, flirting is easy tonight!) ‘So, Miss Abigail. What brings you here?’ he asks.

‘My friends are inside,’ I reply. ‘We were at a party earlier but I had to tend to someone who was unexpectedly taken drunk. I mean, ill.’

Toby grins. ‘I hate it when my friends do that. Let them sleep on the street, I say. Teaches them a lesson.’

I nod. I don’t know what else to say, so I think I’ll end the conversation. How’s that for detached? ‘Well, I’d better go and find everyone,’ I say, stubbing out my cigarette. ‘Thanks again for the door help. And the cigarette.’

‘My pleasure,’ he says.

I walk away, not looking back. I am bulletproof. Hell yeah.

Once I’m inside, it doesn’t take long to find everyone.

‘AbiGAY!’

Ah. Henry and Plum are standing near the bar in a big group of people that I recognise from the Hollywood Arms earlier.

‘What the fuck happened to you?’ says Plum. ‘We thought you’d been kidnapped.’

‘Sorry,’ I say apologetically. ‘Robert needed to be taken home.’

‘Are you sexing your flatmate?’ asks Henry loudly.

‘No,’ I say. ‘And that’s not a verb, Henry.’

‘I thought verbs were doing words,’ he replies. ‘And sex is a DOING word.’ He turns to high-five one of his rugby friends.

‘What have I missed, then?’ I say, rolling my eyes as I turn back to Plum. At about midnight, Henry always goes from puppy to smutty. I glance quickly around the bar, lock eyes with Rich, and nod in greeting. He looks like he expects me to go over and say hi, but I’m quite happy here for now. If he wants to talk to me, I suddenly realise, he’ll come over. Then my attention is taken by Plum telling me all about Dan, the cute guy she was talking to at the party earlier.

‘He’s from Yorkshire! Can you believe it? And he asked for my number, so I gave it to him,’ finishes Plum proudly, and then pauses. ‘Not like that.’

‘Good for you,’ I say. ‘Bulletproof!’

‘I know!’ says Plum. ‘We haven’t spoken in over an hour, though. Maybe I should go and find him and talk to him some more,’ she adds worriedly. ‘What if he finds someone he likes more than me?’

She never used to be like this. Where did this insecurity come from? Years of disappointing singledom, comes the answer right back. ‘Don’t stalk him. Do a lap of the club, and if you see him, grin or raise an eyebrow, but don’t stop. Go straight to the bar. I bet Dan follows you and starts talking to you.’

‘Who made you the queen of pulling?’ says Plum.

I do sound extremely sure of myself. And I feel it, too. How strange. I shrug. ‘What have you got to lose?’

‘Absolutely nothing,’ says Plum cheerfully. ‘Back in five.’ Hmm.

I think I’ve just learned how to be single.

I look around the bar, make eye contact with Rich, raise an eyebrow, and then turn back to my drink. I bet you five pounds he comes over within 10 seconds.

‘I hope you came back to the party just to see me,’ says a voice five seconds later. I look up at Rich, stifling a victorious grin. Ha! ‘But I wouldn’t be so egotistical as to assume so.’

‘Humble, yes, that’s how I’d describe you,’ I nod. ‘So are you learning Cantonese for Hong Kong?’

‘Come on, everyone knows other languages don’t actually exist,’ he says conspiratorially. ‘We go travelling and hear them speaking Italian and Japanese and so on, but the minute we turn our backs they’re all talking in good old English. It’s all pretend!’

I smile at him. He’s very cute.

‘I like your hair,’ I say thoughtfully. ‘You look like Henry will when he’s a big boy.’

Rich smiles at me and leans forward, and for a second I think he’s going to kiss me, when out of the corner of my eye I see Plum returning from her lap around the club, and quickly turn my head to watch her. To the outside observer, she’s another leggy, nonchalant girl wandering to the bar. But I can tell that she’s melting inside, thinking Dan hasn’t followed her. Fuck it, I think, sighing. I want to fix things for her.

‘Plum!’ shouts a voice, and Plum and I both turn and see Dan striding over towards her. ‘There you are. Can I buy you a drink?’

Yes! I want to punch the air. I am the singledom coach! I am the love sage! Move over, Robert!

‘Love Is A Battlefield’ comes on, and I look up at Rich and grin. ‘If you’ll excuse me . . . I need to watch your brother dance to this song,’ I say.

Henry likes Pat Benetar. No, Henry
loves
Pat Benetar. And he has a handful of dance moves (the Shopping Trolley, the Sprinkler, the Reverse Park, the Tennis Serve, the Ear Cleaner and the Cake Mix) that I love. He and I also have a special dance move called The Fisherman, where he pretends to have a fishing rod and I pretend to be a fish and have to get hooked from across the dance floor; and the Skipping Rope, where another person and I mime holding two skipping ropes as he pretends to skip over them faster and faster. He is always the skipper, and
never
lets me skip.

I’m having such a good time. A drunk guy approaches in that flirty/sleazy way that guys do when they think they’re Al Pacino in
Scent Of A Woman
, so I hit Henry in the arm and he starts twirling me. The pretend boyfriend: every single girl’s must-have. The two of us acting like dickheads isn’t going to help Henry’s case with the opposite sex either, but he seems to be having a good time.

Eventually the DJ starts playing Europop, so leaving Henry doing the Running Man, I head to the bar to look for Plum.

‘So, as I was saying earlier, we should go out,’ says Rich, sidling up next to me immediately. ‘Don’t make me ask again.’

‘You’re leaving for Hong Kong!’ I say, stalling for time. Do I really want to go out with Henry’s brother? And I don’t think I should make a date on the same night that Adam The Tick Boxer rejected me and almost made me cry, do you? Though between me and you, I don’t feel upset about him anymore . . .

‘Not for a few more days,’ Rich says.

I pause. ‘OK, I’d love to.’ Batter up.

‘Great,’ he says. ‘Give me your number.’

As I give him my number, I look up and see posh Toby from the courtyard. He’s looking over at us – me, sipping my drink; Rich tapping my number into his phone – and grins knowingly. I narrow my eyes and scowl at him. He pretends to be hurt.

Flirting without words. Wow, I can’t wait to tell Robert about this.

Henry comes up. ‘Where the bloody hell are all the girls?’

‘Everywhere, Henry,’ I reply. ‘Everywhere. Remember what Robert said? Right, I’m going to the bar, boys.’

When I get back with our drinks, Henry is still talking about not being able to meet girls.

‘Abigay’s flatmate Robert – total legend, by the way – gave me a few tips. But I just don’t know if I can be that guy.’

‘You can be that guy,’ says Rich solemnly. ‘I believe in you.’

‘You’re a very handsome man,’ I say, feeling like Henry’s mother. ‘Just channel confidence.’

‘There are two girls over there,’ says Rich. ‘Go on—’

‘What if they tell me to fuck off? I—’ Henry pauses.

‘If they do, then just assume they’re talking about something traumatic,’ I say. ‘Girls sometimes have private conversations. It’s not personal.’

‘OK,’ he says. He takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, and walks over. I look over at Rich again and we both start laughing.

‘Ah, the pull,’ he says, grinning. ‘You seem awfully knowledgeable for someone so newly single, by the way.’

‘Shit! Plum!’ I say. ‘I have to do a recon. Back in a mo.’

She’s not on the dance floor, the other seating area, or the smoking courtyard, so I make a bathroom pit stop. As I wash my hands and make awkward chitchat to the bored woman they don’t pay to stand in the tiny bathroom and hand out free paper towels, Plum bursts in happily.

‘I’ve been looking for you!’ She pretends to faint against the wall. ‘He is so fucking dreamy.’

The toilet attendant woman tsks, and taps a door, indicating Plum should go in and stop wasting her time. She looks over at her perfectly arranged perfumes and hairsprays, and sighs with boredom.

‘Sorry,’ we chorus. She nods without making eye contact. Why is it people who work for nightclubs act like your existence annoys them?

‘Wait for me, sugarnuts, I’m bursting,’ says Plum.

I look over the array of seriously minging perfumes on offer. Who wears Paris Hilton’s Heiress? And why offer Chupa Chups? What are we, five years old?

A heavily fake-tanned girl with serious hair extensions and spray-on jeans comes out of a stall, washes her hands, glosses her lips, tips the attendant and takes a Chupa Chup. She unwraps it and carefully places it between her glossed lips, then twirls it with careful practice.

Ah. I understand now. Sucking a Chupa Chup equals pouty, fellatio-y lips. Some girls must be pre-programmed to ooze that kind of sexiness. I don’t think I’m one of them.

‘Right. Tell me everything,’ I say, as soon as Plum comes back out.

She beams delightedly. ‘We’re going out on Thursday.’

‘Smashing!’ I say. Please, let this work out, I think to myself.

She smiles to herself. ‘Now, listen. I have to leave now, Abigail, because otherwise I’ll probably get drunk and make a fool of myself and go home with him.’

I’m done with tonight, too. I only came back to support Plum. Getting asked out by Rich, rather than the high point of the night as it would have been a few weeks ago, is just a nice bonus. The high point of my night, in fact, was probably Henry’s mimed skipping.

We head inside to say goodbye to Henry and Rich.

‘Abigail,’ says a voice behind me. I turn around. It’s Toby. ‘I realise you’re highly in demand tonight,’ he starts. I grin. ‘But I’m going to a restaurant launch party on Wednesday, and seeing as you make friends with the door people so easily, I thought you might like to come with me.’

I don’t reply. Is it bad to make two dates in one night?

‘She doesn’t eat carbs on Wednesdays,’ says Plum coquettishly.

‘I promise to personally check every mouthful she eats,’ he says. ‘I can even pre-masticate, if you like. Like a Mummy bird.’

‘Well, everyone loves a man who’s into mastication,’ I say, I can’t think of a reason to say no, other than that it feels a bit naughty when I just gave Rich my number. But we had that little frisson outside. And he’s so good-looking . . . Before I can decide yes or no, Toby takes out his phone, and I give him my number. Batter up indeed.

‘We’re heading off now, so have a good night . . .’ I say.

‘You, too,’ he says, leaning forward to kiss me goodbye on both cheeks. ‘May I arrange a car for you?’

‘No, uh, I’m good,’ I say, grinning awkwardly as we walk away. ‘Thanks, though.’

‘He’s gorgeous,’ hisses Plum, as we walk away. ‘Funny, charming, tall . . .’

I wrinkle my nose. ‘He’s a bit smooth.’ Plum looks at me in shock, and I start laughing. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’