Bella Summer Takes a Chance (31 page)

‘Here you go.’ The Dad offered Elizabeth a steaming mug.

‘Soya milk?’

‘Of course.’ He smiled, settling on the other end of the sofa facing Elizabeth. ‘What’d you do this weekend?’

She perked up considerably at the question. ‘Mum and I went to that exhibit on Friday night that I told you about. It was good but the wine was dire. And curly-edged cheese, just the way I like it, yeuck! There was one painting I’d think about, but it’s overpriced. Honestly, everyone thinks their paintings should start at a thousand quid. It’s not like the old days. Remember when we found the Paolinos in that little gallery?’

‘That was different, Libby. It was a random village in Tuscany. I keep telling you that you need to look in East London. That’s where you’ll find bargains.’

‘Maybe so, but East London isn’t nearly as charming as Tuscany!’ They laughed together over their happy holiday memories. ‘I might be able to bargain him down a bit if it doesn’t sell. The exhibit ends today, so I’ll call tomorrow. I didn’t do much yesterday.’

‘Is the boiler still playing up?’

‘No, I got Harry to come round to fix it. Speaking of coming round, are you free on Friday? Kate and Gilles are staying at the house next weekend and they’d love to see you.’

‘Sure, I’m free, it’ll be nice to see them. How’s his mother?’

‘The same. They don’t think she’ll recover further. Is that your phone?’ Elizabeth interrupted their cosy tête-à-tête to ask me.

‘Nope, my phone’s not working. I left it at home.’

‘It’s mine,’ said The Dad, checking the caller and turning it off.

‘You’ve changed your ring tone.’ She sounded offended.

‘I was just fooling around with it. I’ll change it back.’

I don’t know why that was the last straw for me. Not the unannounced visit, not their romantic weekend reminiscences, not the domestic chatter and not their upcoming date on Friday. It was that simple observation, and the way she said it. As if she didn’t expect anything in his life to change. More than that, it was his response. As if he didn’t expect anything in his life to change either.

At least she had the good grace to leave once she’d finished her coffee, accepting my faked hospitality and leaving The Dad and me to awkwardly resume our Sunday. But the shine had well and truly come off the penny.

Was I overreacting? What was bothering me so? Well, for one thing she shouldn’t have stopped by unannounced, on a Sunday. On the other hand their daughter needed her gym kit and if she was ‘going through a phase’ it was better to face your ex than to listen to a pre-teen whine. Fine. It wasn’t unusual for her to have come by. But he invited her to stay when clearly I was there, and not at my best looking. What about considering how I might feel about that? On the other hand, they were friends, and I had been asking a lot of questions, and she was clearly unsurprised to see me here so he definitely told her about me. So maybe it was his way of showing me he had no secrets.

But they sounded as if they were still married.

There. That was the crux of the issue. He acted as though she was still his wife. I felt sick but I had to know. ‘Don’t you find it unusual to stay close to your ex?’

He looked up from the sports pages. ‘I stay close to the children.’

There was just the tiniest edge to his voice.

‘That’s not unusual. It’s good parenting.’ He set down the paper. ‘B., what’s wrong? Did I do something wrong?’

‘No, not really. I was just surprised to see your ex-wife here, that’s all. I guess I wanted to have some warning before meeting her. I look awful.’

‘You do not look awful. You’re beautiful. I’m sorry, I didn’t know she was coming today or of course I would have told you. When she arrived I thought, well, you’ll meet eventually anyway so it may as well be now. I can see now that that was wrong. I’m sorry.’

He looked properly contrite. ‘That’s okay. You’re right, now it’s over so everyone can relax. I think I was a little surprised by how friendly you actually are.’ I just couldn’t leave well enough alone. Had to pick at that scab. ‘If I didn’t know better, I wouldn’t know you were divorced. It took me by surprise, that’s all.’

Suddenly he looked angry. ‘I wish everyone would stop saying that! It’s not like we’re going to get back together. Is that what you’re worried about? Because I can tell you that isn’t going to happen. Libby has no intention of letting me back into her life in that way.’

I had trouble hearing him over the blaring fire alarm in my head. ‘Do you want to be back in her life?’ I whispered.

‘It doesn’t matter. She’s not taking me back so I may as well move on.’

That wasn’t the behaviour of a woman who wanted her ex to move on. She may not have wanted him, but she wasn’t about to let anyone else have him either. She was giving him just enough hope, keeping him just close enough, to fuck it up for the rest of us.

He looked like he realised he’d let the cat out of the bag. ‘I don’t want you to think I’m hung up on my ex-wife, because I’m not. We share a special bond, that’s all, one that won’t go away. Sure, I was devastated when she left me and yes, I probably harboured hope that she’d take me back when she tired of the other man, but I know now that that isn’t likely to happen. I’ve accepted it. I’m trying to move on.’

He was ‘trying’? That made me sound like a nicotine patch for relationships. ‘But you haven’t yet,’ I pointed out.

‘But I’d like to try, with you.’

He looked sad. He looked like I felt. We didn’t talk much after that. There wasn’t much to say.

I knew in my heart that it wasn’t going to work out. I didn’t want to be a failed attempt to forget another woman. The realization accounted for me sniffling like your worst nightmare seating companion on the packed train back to London. At one point the lady next to me proffered a Pret a Manger napkin in a vain attempt to curb the unsightliness. Her kindness just sent me off again.

There was so much good about The Dad. So much that I liked – his wit and humour, gentleness and gentlemanliness, his devotion to his kids and the way he made me feel. From our first meeting, no, earlier, from our email exchanges, I got my hopes up. I wasn’t saying I had a future with him, but a future seemed like a possibility. After Mattias, The Dad seemed so normal. Perhaps I was crying over lost possibilities more than a lost relationship. It still hurt.

I was exhausted, wrung out by emotion, but resolved when I got home. I’d call The Dad and arrange to see him in the week. Just thinking about that conversation made me want to crawl straight under the duvet and shut out the world. For once I was glad that Faith practically lived at Frederick’s. Judging by the answering machine she hadn’t been home all weekend.

Beep.
Hi, B., are you there?
It was my manager, Gemma.
I tried your mobile but it’s turned off. Give me a call when you get the message.

I did tell her that my mobile wasn’t working.

Beep.
B., where are you?
Gemma again.
Are you away for the weekend? Call me when you get back. It doesn’t matter what time it is. You’ve got my mobile, right?

My heart lodged in my throat. That sounded serious. I probably lost the gig. Otherwise why would she need me to call her on a Sunday? Fresh tears threatened.

I tried to sound breezy when I called her back. ‘Hi, it’s B., what’s up?’ I sounded exactly like I felt. Panicked.

‘Hi, B., were you away for the weekend?’

‘Erm, yes, just to Essex.’

‘Oh, oh, great, hope it was fun! I was there, in Billericay, for a wedding last year. It’s really lovely around there. B….’ She paused for about three days. Was she trying to torture me? ‘I’ve got some news.’ Dramatic sigh. ‘It’s about your future. When I signed you I sent your demo to some of my contacts. Standard operating procedure. We have lunch or drinks occasionally, keep up with each other’s news, that sort of thing. I didn’t hear anything back about yours. Also standard operating procedure. It’s always a long shot. They’re inundated with demos, everybody thinks they’ve got the next big thing. Ninety-nine per cent of the time we’re wrong, we’re just swayed by the personal relationship to mistake personality for talent.’

‘Are you dropping me?’

‘Pardon? No, no! I just wanted you to know how unusual this is. A label came back to me on Friday. About you, B. They’ve seen the YouTube buzz. They listened to your demo again. They’re interested. Are you free to meet with their A&R man tomorrow? I know it’s short notice, that’s why I’ve been trying to get hold of you. He’ll take you to lunch. Can you do it?’

Could I do it?!?!

Chapter 26

My bowels did not want me to become famous. There I was, being wooed by a record label executive, and I was at risk of crapping my pants. ‘Erm, will you excuse me again? Be back in a tick.’ I breathed a sigh of relief that the loo was empty. Most of the women in the restaurant wouldn’t need the facilities until it was time to throw up lunch.

I was getting on superbly with the label’s A&R man (short for ‘artist and repertoire’, which sounded even more cool). Gemma warned me that I might love him. She said they hired young, good-looking, friendly guys so you’d think they were your pal. In reality, he’d screw me over as soon as look at me. ‘He might try to get you to sign a deal memo,’ she’d said. ‘I strongly advise you not to sign it before a solicitor checks it.’ She was as serious as a mother imparting advice to her daughter on prom night. I was allowed to be a bit of a tease but must keep my knees together.

‘I’m so sorry about that,’ I said after running the gauntlet of size four blondes and sugar daddies that peppered the restaurant. ‘You were telling me what happens next.’

‘That’s right.’ He took a slim document from his bag. The time had come. I was about to be propositioned. ‘As I said, we’d like to offer you a deal, one record, with the advance. You can be in the studio as soon as you settle on your musicians and your producer. This is just to say we can go ahead with the formal contract negotiations. It’s a standard form.’

Why did I feel like he’d just unzipped my jeans? ‘I’m just so excited about this!’ I said, stalling. ‘I never thought it would happen. When my manager said you’d been in touch, I could hardly believe it. It’s a dream come true.’ I hoped he’d interpret this as: I’m up for heavy foreplay but I’m not going all the way today.

‘Well, you’ve got something special. I have to say I was thrilled to get authorisation for the advance.’ Read: You excite me so much I can hardly control myself.

‘I’m so flattered that you think I’m worth it.’ Will you really love me or is this all just empty talk?

‘You’re the real deal, B., I see great things ahead.’ I’ll respect you in the morning.

‘I’ll just need to have my solicitor give it a quick once-over. You understand.’ I’m a nice girl. I don’t do this with just anyone.

‘Of course, I understand. It’s just a standard form, it doesn’t tie you to anything concrete.’ I’m using protection. Promise. ‘It’s simply a letter of intent about the deal we’re offering. Have a look.’ Just touch it. We don’t have to go any further.

‘I’m sure you’re absolutely right, so my solicitor will have no problems with it. Can I get back to you later in the week?’ You’ll have to find something else to do with that erection today, my friend.

He looked like I’d just zipped my trousers back up.

‘But you said no?!’ Frederick seemed to be stuck on repeat as we sat in Faith’s living room later that night.

‘Just for now. My manager put me in touch with a solicitor who specialises in this kind of thing. She’s looking it over. I don’t want to get screwed by the label. And that does happen. My mum gave me the same advice, so I know it was the right thing to do.’

When I told Mum about the deal she cried, which made me cry. Our family was not best known for its stoicism. ‘This is all new to me, Fred. I don’t have the faintest idea what I’m doing.’

He hugged me. ‘Of course you don’t. You’re completely ill-equipped to swim with sharks. You’re right. It’s best to let others do the negotiating for you.’

‘
That’s
patronising! I can too negotiate.’

‘Dear heart, I love you but you cannot. Do you remember when we divvied up the household chores?’

‘Yes.’ I ended up with about eighty per cent of the work. Luckily he took pity on me and rebalanced the load.

‘And do you recognize your inability to calculate in your head? If you can’t divide a restaurant bill by three, how are you going to hold your own when they start throwing numbers and percentages around?’

‘That’s why our phones have calculators.’

‘Your phone doesn’t even work. And that’s really a minor point. You do not negotiate well. Remember the sarongs?’

I never should have told him I spent £20 on a sarong in Vietnam a few years ago. I didn’t realise the going rate was about £2. The lady closed up her stall and went home for the day after I’d made my purchases. I’d funded the village’s summer holidays by the end of that trip. ‘All right, you’ve made your point. So we agree, I did the right thing.’

‘Yes, though I’m nervous as a girl at the salon on trainee day about this. I won’t sleep until the contracts are signed. Faith?’ He called into the kitchen. ‘Do you need any help in there, my love?’

Frederick wouldn’t hear of me spending my first evening as a signed (well, propositioned) singer on my own in Faith’s flat. He came straight over after work, and Faith appeared a little later with bags, which wasn’t unusual. But they weren’t full of shoes and she blockaded herself in the kitchen. Naturally we were suspicious, and not a little terrified. I smelled burnt toast. ‘Don’t come in, it’s almost ready,’ she said. ‘Stay in the lounge.’

We did as we were told. ‘Do you know what she’s doing?’ I whispered to Frederick.

‘I’m afraid I can guess. I think she’s making us dinner.’

‘I was afraid of that. Did you have a big lunch?’ He shook his head regretfully. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said.

It had Stockholm syndrome written all over it. We loved our captor, but dreaded her treatment of our bellies.