Forget Me Knot (14 page)

“You did?” Dan carried on looking nonplussed.

“Yes. I even showed you those articles about her in the
Sunday Times
and the
Evening Standard.”

“Oh, God, yes, of course you did.” He turned to Abby. “Boutique Retailer of the Year. Really impressive.”

“Plus, Fabulous Flowers was voted twelfth-hottest shop in London,” Katie piped up.

Before Abby had a chance to thank Dan, Katie was off again: “D.J. told me all about the pair of you getting stuck in the elevator and having to be rescued. Scary or what?”

Oh, fabulous. What were the odds that Dan, or rather D.J. (what self-respecting male calls himself D.J. past the age of thirteen?), had also told Katie about Abby’s sad sex life? Why wouldn’t he? By this morning it must have seemed like one huge joke.

“Dan said you became phobic about elevators after you got stuck in one when you were young. Jolly bad luck getting trapped a second time.”

“Yes, but Dan was absolutely fantastic. He really looked after me.”

By now Martin had come back downstairs and was standing behind the counter. He’d clearly caught enough of the conversation to work out what was going on. “So this is Dan?
The
Dan? The Dan who… I mean, this is the one you told all about…? No way! Omigod. How embarrassing is this?” He paused. Clearly realizing he had allowed his mouth to run away with him and that he had dropped an almighty bollock, his face turned scarlet. “Tell me I didn’t say all that out loud.”

“Actually, you did,” Abby muttered through a thin, rictus smile. Finally her gaze shifted toward Dan. “I’d like you to meet Martin, my assistant,” she said. The two men shook hands.

Now it was Katie’s turn to look confused. “Hang on,” she piped up. “I’m totally lost. Why is this embarrassing?”

In an instant it dawned on Abby that she might have misjudged Dan and that it was possible he hadn’t spent the morning joking with Katie about her deficient sex life after all. Instead, it was Martin who had blabbed, and now Katie was feeling that she had been left out of the loop. Unless Abby could think fast and explain away Martin’s remark, the truth was seconds from coming out. She found herself glancing at Dan and offering him a weak, awkward smile.

Martin’s expression had become pinched and taut. “Tell you what,” he said, clearly desperate to make himself scarce, “why don’t I go into the back and get on with some of these orders.”

“Good idea,” Abby said.

Martin shuffled off. Abby loved him to bits, but she despaired of how, whenever he got excited, his mouth always seemed to disconnect from his brain.

Katie was still looking puzzled. “Sorry, am I missing something here?”

Abby was at a loss to come up with an explanation.

Dan was rocking on the balls of his feet. “Well, you see…”

Abby cringed as she waited for the ax to fall.

“Last night in the elevator,” Dan went on, “I developed a rather nasty bout of gas and Abby was incredibly gracious about it.”

Wow, Abby thought. How generous was that? Not many people would go to such lengths to spare another person’s blushes.

“Eeuuww. Gross.” Katie squirmed. “God, Deejster! That’s disgusting.”

Deejster?

“I really must apologize for my colleague,” Katie said to Abby with a roll of her eyes. “With no ventilation, that must have been utterly vile.”

“It was no big deal,” Abby said, making prolonged eye contact with Dan to indicate her gratitude. “These things happen. Can’t be helped. I think we should just forget about it.”

“Isn’t she just the most frightfully good sport?” Katie said to Dan.

“Definitely.” He smiled. “Right. Now that we’ve cleared the air, as it were, I think maybe it’s time we talked about the film.” He turned to Abby. “From what I can see, Fabulous Flowers totally fits the bill. I was looking for a trendy urban florist’s shop, and this is right on the money.” He turned to Katie and congratulated her on her find.

THE THREE
of them went across the streets to Tinderbox, where they sat discussing the film over cappuccino.

“You know,” Abby said to Dan at one point, “I’ve only just realized I don’t know your last name.”

He apologized, reached into his jacket pocket and took out a business card.

“Daniel Chipault,” she read aloud. “You’re French?”

“My parents were born in France, but I was raised here.”

She slipped the card into her bag while Dan reiterated what Katie had already told Abby on the phone—that the movie was a low-budget romantic comedy and that they couldn’t afford to pay Abby very much for the hire of the shop. Abby said she was happy with that so long as Dan promised that there would be sufficient shots of the shop front to guarantee her a decent advertisement.

“I’m sure we can do that,” he said. “Also, as it’s March and it’s getting light earlier, we can limit filming to early morning, which means you won’t have to close the shop. If it does become necessary to film during the day, we will find the money to compensate you for your loss of earnings.”

He asked her if she understood what filming would involve. She said she had a pretty good idea. She realized that the place would be crawling with soundmen, cameramen and technicians—not to mention miles of cable and piles of equipment.

“So, tell me about the film. What’s it about? Who’s in it?”

“Well,” he said, “my major coup was managing to persuade Lucinda Wallace to take the lead.”

“No! I adore her. She was fabulous in
The Forgotten Hills
. Wasn’t she nominated for a BAFTA for best newcomer?”

“She was,” Katie said. “We are so unbelievably lucky to have gotten her. She and Dan go way back—known each other since school—so she’s agreed to do it as a favor.”

Just then Katie’s mobile rang.

“Sorry, guys,” she said after she’d finished the call, “gotta dash. You’ll never believe it, but that was the manager of Soho House. I think he might be up for letting us film one of the party scenes there. He wants to see me in an hour.” She stood up and began putting on her coat. She and Dan agreed that she would take the tube and he’d drive back to the office later.

“OK, wish me luck.”

They both said they would keep their fingers crossed.

After Katie had gone, Abby asked Dan how he’d raised the money to make the film. He told her how he had re-mortgaged his flat, convinced friends to invest and managed to convince the National Lottery Fund and the Arts Council to give him some money.

He certainly didn’t lack drive, determination or chutzpah. Abby was impressed. She was even more impressed because it seemed that, like her, he’d had no family money to give him a leg up. She remembered how she’d struggled to save the money for the deposit she needed to get Fabulous Flowers off the ground. For four years she’d worked nine to six in a florist’s shop and eight to midnight waitressing in Pizza Express.

“So, what’s the film about?”

Dan said it was a romantic comedy called
Bouquet
. “It’s a modern take on
My Fair Lady
. I spent the last couple of years working on the screenplay.”

“Wow, you’re the writer and director.”

“Yep. I’m also the producer and editor. That’s partly
because I’m a control freak.” He gave a flicker of a grimace, as if to reassure her that he knew this was one of his faults. “And partly because this project is being made on such a shoestring that we couldn’t afford to bring anybody else on board.” He drained his coffee cup. “Anyway, Lucinda plays Lisa, a feisty working-class single mother working in a florist’s shop. Simon is an aristocrat who falls in love with her.”

“Bit like me and Toby,” she giggled. “Except I don’t have a child.”

“And you don’t live in a housing project in Peckham.…

Anyway, unlike Henry Higgins, Simon doesn’t change her so that she can find her place in polite society; she ends up changing him. By the end of the film, it’s his values and perceptions, his view of the world that has changed, not hers. Suffice it to say that before we reach that point, they split up for a time and she goes back to her old boyfriend.”

“But all the way through, you know it’s going to work out for them in the end.”

He looked apologetic. “That tends to be how romcoms work. They’re like Greek tragedies. They always follow an identical pattern. You know the routine: man meets woman, usually after some kind of complicated mix-up. They begin a tentative relationship. Something happens to split them up. They either get back together or form new relationships.”

“No, I get that—I really do. Everybody adores those plots. You love knowing but not knowing.”

He asked her if she fancied another cup of coffee.

“Love one,” she said.

As he stood up, she couldn’t help noticing how attractive he was. He really did have the warmest brown eyes, and
when he smiled, dimples appeared at the corner of his mouth.

Today he was in jeans again, but this time, instead of the windbreaker, he was wearing a white open-necked shirt under a trendy, heavy cotton tailored jacket in a black pinstripe. The jeans were faded and a bit worn, the jacket slightly crumpled. His look seemed so effortless and un-put-together.

Toby, on the other hand, didn’t tolerate creases in the wrong places. His look was impeccable. She had always admired his style, but thinking about it now, she couldn’t help thinking that perhaps he looked a bit too perfect. His outfits were so thought out, so self-conscious, as if he’d been styled for one of those TV makeover shows.

Dan came back to the table with a tray of coffee and cake. There were two slices—one chocolate, one lemon drizzle. “God, you read my mind,” she said. “I missed breakfast and lunch. I’m absolutely ravenous.”

They ended up cutting the cake slices in half so that they each got a piece of lemon cake as well as a piece of the chocolate.

“Before we carry on discussing the film,” Abby said, folding cappuccino foam into her coffee, “I just want to thank you for rescuing me back at the shop. It was incredibly gallant.”

He smiled. There were the dimples again. “My pleasure,” he said.

“I am so embarrassed about last night. I don’t know what got into me. Well, actually, I know precisely what got into me—almost an entire bottle of wine. I tend to lose all my inhibitions when I’ve had a bit to drink. I’m sorry I made such a fool of myself. I hope you weren’t too embarrassed.”

“Not remotely.” He popped a piece of lemon-drizzle cake into his mouth. “Come to think of it, last night’s all a bit of a blur and I can barely remember what we talked about.” She knew by his mischievous grin that he was fibbing.

“You know,” Abby said, “Toby and I… We’re really happy together. I don’t want you to think—”

“Abby, you don’t have to explain anything. Your relationship with Toby is none of my business.”

“I know, but I just don’t want to give you the wrong impression, that’s all.”

He nodded. “So, did you get to meet his mother?”

“Oh, yes. She’s titled and extremely grand. Very intimidating. She makes Lady Bracknell look like she has self-esteem issues, but I think I can handle her.” She took a sip of coffee. “You know, the other thing I felt awful about last night was the way I wittered on about myself and didn’t ask anything about you. It was so rude of me.”

“No, it wasn’t. You were having a major panic attack. Plus, I enjoyed listening to you.”

“You did? Even that long, boring story of how I got into floristry?”

“That wasn’t boring. It was fascinating. It’s always interesting to find somebody who’s passionate about something and takes the road less traveled.”

She felt herself blush at the compliment. “So, c’mon, tell me a bit about you. I’m assuming you don’t actually have a degree in engineering.”

He grinned. “What can I say? You found me out. You’re right, my degree is actually in English. I guess the Bialystock joint and the Ulla oscillator were a bit of a giveaway.”

She nodded. “Kind of, but it took me a while to work it out. The penny didn’t drop until I saw a poster for
The Producers
on the way home.”

“Sorry. I was just trying to reassure you that the elevator wasn’t about to plummet to the ground.”

“I know, and I’m immensely grateful. So, come on, more about you.”

He was starting to look mildly ill at ease. She assumed he was one of those people who disliked being the focus of attention. “What can I tell you? OK—until now I’ve directed TV drama. Before that, I was a freelance documentaries editor, and before that I was at film school. I am an only child. When I was growing up I had a cat named Gary, who had a black mustache, which made him look the image of Hitler. I have a mild dairy intolerance and a large chicken-pox scar on my left knee. I had my tonsils out when I was six and my appendix when I was fifteen. I try to eat five portions of fruit and veg a day but rarely get beyond two. My favorite piece of music is ‘Bohemian Rhapsody,’ and my favorite film is
Fargo
. My idea of a perfect night in is sitting in front of the TV, eating Indian takeout and watching
Boston Legal
. I think Denny Crane and Alan Shore are the best comedy duo since Abbott and Costello.”