Conditional Love (20 page)

He waved a finger in the direction of my face. ‘Um, there’s mud on your cheek and a black smudge, actually smudges – plural – under your eyes.’

For once I was grateful for his inability to say the right thing. Irritation was a welcome distraction from my misery.

‘Anything else?’ I snapped.

He hesitated and then plunged on. ‘Your neck’s gone blotchy.’

My mouth gaped and he gave a helpless shrug. ‘I’m not very good in these situations.’

You don’t say.

‘But are you all right?’ He peered at me nervously.

I nodded and dragged myself up. It was time to take my muddy, make-up-streaked, blotchy face back home. Pain shot through my feet and I yelped. My shoes had mysteriously shrunk by two whole sizes.

Nick didn’t look convinced.

‘It’s my birthday today,’ I said flatly. ‘I always get a bit emotional.’

‘Ah.’ He nodded, brushed imaginary specks of dust off his trousers and stood up.

Ah? What was that supposed to mean? Ah yes, at your age, it’s only natural to feel depressed?

Nick was saved from further cross-examination by Norman, who reappeared and sat down between us. I wondered how often Nick’s dog had rescued him from awkward social moments. Plenty, I imagined. I bent to stroke him. Nick chose to do exactly the same thing and I squealed in pain as our heads crashed together.

Nick got the brunt of it; I had nutted his cheekbone with my skull. We both rubbed our wounds and stared at each other in stunned silence.

A vivid red mark appeared on his cheek and I could feel an egg-shaped lump on the top of my head.

‘You imbecile,’ I yelled, snatching up my handbag.

The rest of Nick’s face joined up with the red mark until his face resembled a setting sun, and his shoulders slumped towards the horizon.

He looked so pathetic that I instantly felt guilty.

‘Sorry,’ I mumbled, still rubbing my head. ‘It’s your dog, you get first pat.’

For some reason a line from a children’s nursery rhyme popped into my head: ‘We all pat the dog.’

The idea of us taking turns to pat the dog made me smile. I looked at Nick and saw his mouth twitching too.

I sniggered. His eyes, normally so serious behind his glasses, sparkled as he started to chuckle. That set my giggling off. Soon my shoulders were shaking again, only this time it wasn’t with tears; I was laughing, loud, howling, unrestrained laughter.

We both laughed until we were out of breath. My ribs were aching, but I couldn’t stop. Every time I got my breathing back under control, we could catch sight of each other and off we would go again. I hadn’t laughed so much in ages.

Eventually Nick wiped the tears from his eyes, fastened Norman’s lead back on and gave me a regretful smile.

‘I have to go,’ he said and then leaning forward placed a gentle whisper of a kiss on my cheek. ‘Happy birthday. It has been a delight as always.’

My hand flew to my blushing face and I watched my architect and his dog stride away.

As I hobbled to the entrance of the park to hail a taxi, it struck me that, so far, today had been the weirdest birthday of my life.

twenty-three

The Italian restaurant I had chosen for my birthday celebrations was very popular; it was buzzing with diners despite, or perhaps because of, the cheesy décor. A mural of the leaning tower of Pisa covered the alcove behind us, dribbling candles stuffed into Chianti bottles decorated the tables and the rumbling tones of Italian opera were just audible above the clinking and scraping of cutlery.

I say ‘chosen’, but ‘compromised on’ would be more accurate. My preference, the Taj Mahal, had been vetoed by Emma on the grounds of heartburn and by Jess who was going straight to Spike’s after dinner and didn’t want to breathe garlic on him.

So far though, I was delighted with my compromise. As soon as the waiter clocked the pile of gift bags and cards in front of me, he arrived brandishing a bottle of Prosecco and popped the cork with a flourish.

‘Cheers!’ I held my glass up and took a calming swig.

Aaand relax.

I felt like I was arriving at ground level after riding the world’s tallest elevator.

‘Ah, cheers, babes, happy birthday.’ Jess clinked her glass enthusiastically against mine. She was displaying so much cleavage that I was surprised she hadn’t lost her menu down it. She looked like a roman goddess, and completely blended in with our Italian backdrop. Her voluptuous appearance wasn’t lost on other people either. Several of the male diners kept glancing our way and our waiter was gratifyingly attentive.

‘Yeah, happy thirty-third birthday! Down the hatch!’ Emma raised her glass and chucked half of its contents down her throat. She was letting her hair down in both senses of the word tonight, and a pre-Raphaelite cloud of red hair fell across her t-shirt as she reached to top all our glasses up.

I felt quite boring in my navy and white dress. The tortuous journey back to the flat on two buses had taken over an hour and I hadn’t had the time or energy to change anything other than my shoes. My feet were now comfortably ensconced in a pair of flip-flops. It had been that or trainers; I had blisters on my blisters.

I winced. ‘Don’t remind me! I’m so old!’ And Nick Cromwell agreed, I thought, remembering his look of sympathy.

‘Nonsense,’ said Jess firmly, closing her menu and casting her eye round for our waiter. ‘Women are happiest at thirty-three. Read it the other day on
Friends Reunited
. Apparently, we’re confident, we’ve lost all our insecurities and know exactly where we’re going in life.’

‘It’s all downhill from here then.’ Emma looked up from her menu and arched an eyebrow at her sister.

‘Absolutely not!’ Jess took a dainty sip and smiled serenely. ‘My life is getting better and better. I’ve got my promotion to deputy head next term. Can’t wait. And then there’s Spike.’ Her eyes glazed over. ‘I honestly think we were made for each other.’

‘Blurghhhh.’ Emma grabbed one of my gift bags and pretended to vomit in it.

I grinned at the two sisters as they exchanged light-hearted insults. It was hard not to feel jealous of Jess sometimes; she did seem to have got her life on track. I just wished she wasn’t so vocal about it.

‘Perhaps I’m a late bloomer,’ I muttered mournfully.

My own insecurities had increased tenfold today; I didn’t feel confident about anything anymore. And what was happiness exactly? Was I happy? I certainly shouldn’t be unhappy: I had a job, good friends, my health, enough money. I had plenty to be grateful about.

Yes, of course I was happy. Anyway happiness didn’t mean spending all day laughing hysterically. A smile crept its way across my lips as I recalled laughing until my sides ached with Nick earlier. That had been the strangest thing ever. I had seen a different side of his personality today, a side which I could relate to a lot more than his usual buttoned-up self. And what about that birthday kiss? My hand touched my cheek: most peculiar.

‘Well?’ said Emma. She and Jess were beaming at me tentatively, clearly misinterpreting my smile. ‘Are you going to tell us what happened?’

They had been badgering me to spill the beans on how the father–daughter reunion had gone, ever since I arrived home. So far I’d fobbed them off, saying I needed alcohol before I could talk about it. The truth was that it was so overwhelming that I didn’t know where to begin.

The waiter returned to take our order and Emma rolled her eyes impatiently.

‘The sole for me please,’ I said and handed the menu back.

‘White fish?’ hissed Emma. She leaned towards me and grabbed my arm. I answered her with a questioning look. ‘That was on
Extreme A&
E on TV last week. You could have an anaphylactic shock. You don’t want that on your birthday!’

The waiter’s confused eyes darted from mine to Emma’s and back again.

‘It’ll be fine,’ I reassured him.

‘Lasagne and garlic bread, please,’ said Jess, ‘but go easy on the garlic.’

The waiter’s pencil hovered uncertainly over his pad, but he dutifully made a note.

‘Is the chicken free-range?’ asked Emma, narrowing her eyes.

‘Yes!’ The waiter nodded vigorously.

‘Hmm.’ Emma chewed her lip for a good thirty seconds. ‘Marguerita pizza.’ She snapped the menu decisively and handed it back without looking at him. ‘Now, we want details.’

‘Oh, but can’t I open my presents first?’ I fluttered my eyelashes. ‘Pretty please.’

‘Of course,’ cried Jess, leaning forward to organise the unwrapping ceremony. ‘This one first,’ she said, handing me an envelope with a Spanish stamp on it.

A bullet of guilt ricocheted through me. If only Mum knew what I’d been up to today, she wouldn’t have sent me anything. Inside the card was a voucher for a massage at the beauty salon in the hotel near her apartment. If that wasn’t a direct order to book my flights, I didn’t know what was.

‘This one next,’ said Emma. She passed over a pink gift bag. ‘It’s from both of us,’ added Jess, wriggling with excitement.

As well as two envelopes, the bag contained some tissue-wrapped Clinique moisturiser and body lotion.

‘My favourites!’ I gasped, squirting a dot of cream onto the back of my hands.

‘Come on, the envelopes!’ said Emma, tipping the bag upside down.

The first contained a year’s subscription to
Elle Decoration
. I reached across and hugged them. That had always been my favourite magazine. I’d treated myself to a copy recently to do the house brief for Nick and had fallen in love with it all over again. I was touched that they had remembered.

‘I can’t wait!’ squealed Jess as I picked up the second envelope. Emma beamed at me in anticipation.

I frowned as I read the enclosed letter, trying to make out what it was.

‘It’s a taster day at the London College of Interior design,’ said Jess breathlessly.

‘We want to bring back the Sophie who had her head full of designs and schemes, colours and swatches,’ said Emma, jabbing me in the ribs with a breadstick. ‘And when you were doing that work on the bungalow, we could see how happy it made you.’

‘It’s only a day,’ said Jess. ‘But who knows, you might get the bug and take it up again.’

This had to be the kindest, most thoughtful present that I had ever had. My eyes filled up with tears and I transferred them first to Jess’s face and then to Emma’s as I hugged them both.

‘I love it,’ I managed in a croaky voice. ‘And I love you both too.’

Even though they hadn’t always approved of my decisions over the past few months, they were still here, my two best friends, giving me exactly what they thought I would like for my birthday. Their intentions were the very best, but what had been a possibility when I was twenty was now nothing more than a futile dream. Twelve years ago, a gift like this would have been my idea of heaven. Now it would be more like a day in hell, taunting me with what might have been, if only things had worked out differently.

‘Get a grip,’ said Emma, waving the last parcel in front of my face. ‘Let’s see what Marc got you.’

I took the hastily-wrapped, rectangular parcel from her and placed it in front of me. I was so thrilled that he’d remembered my birthday. Shame that he was already busy this evening, but at least he’d made the effort to pop in and leave a present with Jess.

The box was fairly light and smaller than a shoe box, but too big to be jewellery. I shook it. It didn’t make a sound.

‘Careful!’ cried Jess. ‘It could be fragile.’

Emma huffed impatiently. ‘Come on, the food will be here in a minute and I want to hear about what happened with your dad.’

There was a card Sellotaped to it. I opened it and read the message aloud.

Happy birthday Princess, I know how busy you are at work, so thought this might be useful. Love Marc xoxo

‘A BlackBerry!’ said Jess, pressing a hand to her chest. Her boobs made a bid for freedom from the top of her dress and miraculously a waiter appeared to top up our glasses.

Emma instantly fluffed up her hair and held up her glass for a refill. The waiter finally dragged his eyes away from Jess’s frontage and obliged her. ‘And the rest,’ she barked at the poor man as he paused to allow the bubbles to subside. ‘No half measures.’

Jess tutted at her sister. ‘You’ve got to work on your allure,’ she explained. ‘That’s why men can’t resist me.’ She fiddled with her bra strap and the waiter winked at her. Emma growled unalluringly.

I tore off the paper to reveal the gift that the man in my life – I hesitate to use the word boyfriend – had decided was the perfect present for me. I dropped the box back onto the table in horror. Jess gasped. Emma swore. The waiter set the bottle down in the ice cooler and scurried away. Did he just snort?

‘I’m sorry, babes.’ Jess bit her bottom lip and patted my arm.

‘Tosser,’ said Emma.

I picked up the Slendertone Abdominal Toner and tried to decide how I felt about my gift.

I was unfit. Marc was super fit. It made sense that he would want any girlfriend of his to share his passion. There was no denying it though, this was a definite call to action.

‘Results in eight weeks, it says here,’ I read off the box.

‘What – and then he’ll go back out with you?’ Emma looked ready to punch someone. I hoped the chef didn’t mess up her pizza or there would be trouble.

‘I have to say, my Spike loves me for the way I am. He wouldn’t dream of criticising my figure,’ said Jess, unable to keep the irritating adoration out of her voice.

Emma’s fierce huff extinguished the candle flame. ‘There is nothing wrong with Sophie’s stomach. Marc is totally out of order. End of.’ She folded her arms and glared at me.

‘It’s the thought that counts,’ I answered feebly. ‘He’s just thinking of my health. Quite sweet really.’

‘Bollocks,’ said Emma. ‘He just doesn’t want to be seen with a fat blimp on his arm. Not that you are,’ she added hurriedly. ‘This is about him. As usual.’

‘Spike says he loves my womanly curves. He says if I was thinner there wouldn’t be so much to kiss, to caress and run his tongue –’

‘I’ve got you this as well.’ Emma reached into her jeans pocket and dropped a silver chain into my hand. She flicked a snide glance over at her sister. That had certainly shut her up. Jess blinked furiously, her mouth gaping like a goldfish.