Greatest Love Story of All Time (29 page)

I considered my options: grab Dave and run to the first-floor wine rooms or brazen it out and talk to her. All I knew was that I didn’t want to be trapped in any of these venues with Nellie and her bit on the side. So, after a lightning-quick consideration, I grabbed Dave’s tobacco and rammed myself down on the step between his knees. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and launched my face at him, kissing his mouth just as it opened in surprise to ask me what the hell I was playing at. Nellie’s stilettos clacked past us and I heard her soft, husky giggle as she saw the tawdry little scene.

For a couple of seconds Dave didn’t move, he just sat rigidly with his arms at his sides while I face-raped him. His face was all spiky and there was a definite aroma of fag smoke about him. Finally, he regained his composure, grabbed my shoulders forcefully and shoved me away. ‘What the fuck?’ he hissed angrily. ‘Get
off
me!’

I checked that Nellie had cleared our line of vision, then removed myself rapidly from between his long legs. Dave, meanwhile, was dusting down his coat as if I had just aimed a slurry hose at him. I didn’t want to be kissing him any more than he wanted to be kissing me but the force of his disgust was a little hurtful. ‘Erm, sorry,’ I mumbled, rearranging my hair and standing up. ‘But there wasn’t time to run off and hide.’

Dave just shook his head. ‘Have some bloody respect,’ he replied eventually.

I went red. Dave had just announced his views on infidelity to me and within seconds I had thrown myself at him. ‘I’m sorry! If you want I can tell Freya and make sure she knows it was just a strategic move.’

‘You can stay well away from Freya, Fran.’ He was furious now.

‘C’mon, Dave,’ I said lamely. ‘I didn’t mean to snog you. It was just one of those things. Y’know, like when you go to Ikea for a picture frame and come back with a kitchen. I was just trying to hide from Nellie.’

Unable to help himself, Dave smiled. ‘Shite analogy,
Fran. But you’re OK. Let’s forget about it, forget about Nellie and go and have dinner, OK?’

I nodded gratefully. ‘OK. They’re bound to be going to the third floor – that bloke looks minted. Let’s go and eat on the second, right? And you have my word, no more face-raping. EVER.’ He grimaced and offered me his arm.

As I scanned the menu my brain whirred furiously. What was going on? Was my pregnancy theory right? And, if so, did Michael know about Nellie’s lover?

‘Stop it,’ Dave said, without even looking up.

‘What?’

‘This doesn’t mean you can get back together with Michael. It just means the situation, whatever it is, is even more fucked than we thought.’

‘But Michael’s been cuckolded!’

I was half delighted, half appalled. I still loved Michael – right down at a cellular level – but with this amount of baggage his appeal was a little more complicated. It wasn’t just baggage, it was like a full-on left-luggage convention at Heathrow.

Distractedly I ordered and then breathed a sigh of relief as Dave stood up to go to the loo. As he went he gave me a warning look.

I got straight on the phone to Leonie. ‘
Fuck,
’ she breathed, awed. And then:
‘SERIOUS fuck. Fran.’

‘I know,’ I muttered furtively. ‘What do you think’s going on?’

Leonie thought about it, then said, rather to my dismay, ‘I think … Oh dear, I’m sorry, Franny, but I think it’s all completely rogered. Way too messy. I think you need to keep away from him. Sorry, my darling.’

I popped an olive into my mouth and chewed miserably. ‘Yeah. You’re probably right. But, Leonie, it’s hard. I miss him. It still hurts every single day. How am I meant to deal with this? It’s like the best worst thing that could happen!’

Leonie said nothing.

‘Oh, God, Leonie, do you actually
know
what’s going on? Did Alex tell you?’

‘No,’ she said immediately. ‘I was just thinking. Fran, you
have
to trust me: I have not and will not talk to Alex about you and Michael. Do you believe me?’

‘Yes.’

‘I cannot for the life of me work this out but I strongly urge you to just keep the hell away. OK?’

‘Understood. Thanks, Leonie. ’Bye.’

Dave would almost certainly go for a fag after he’d been to the loo. If I did it quickly, I’d be able to sneak up and get one last look at The Daniels. I scampered across the floor, signalling to the waitress that I was coming back.

Creeping up the stairs to the third floor, I realized there was something I could do here. Something that would settle once and for all what Michael was up to in texting me and whether he knew about Nellie’s dodgy dealings.

I slid back the lens cover of the camera on my mobile and inched my head gingerly round the corner of the restaurant entrance. I was Fran the Charlie’s Angel. I was Jack Bauer.

Perfect! Nellie and the man were sitting by the window with Smithfield meat market spread out majestically below them; the lights of the Thames glittered distantly in the background. They were both hunched over the table so that a gap of only a few inches separated them and their faces were flushed. As I began to take aim, I clocked a bucket of very expensive wine sitting next to them. They were in fact sitting at a table for four. Was Nellie
mad?
Going out in public with another man was insane enough; surely she wasn’t so brazen as to invite others?

The man leaned over and kissed her. She arched her back, lifting her hand to touch his face.

I took aim and fired.

And, of course, my flash exploded across the serene white-tableclothed room like lightning. They both jumped and turned to me, frozen in the doorway, camera in hand. And then I heard a familiar, child-like voice to my right, saying, ‘
Fran?
’

It was Jenny. Jenny Slater. Jenny and Dmitri.

Time stood still. I looked at them, then back at Nellie and the man, who were both thoroughly startled. Somewhere in the periphery of my mind it occurred to me that Nellie was rogered now: not only had I just gathered pictorial evidence of her affair but
Jenny –
Michael’s flesh and blood
– had seen the whole thing too. But I knew this wasn’t correct. I knew that the picture of hell unfolding around me wasn’t quite right. I knew it was me who was rogered.

In slow motion, I saw Nellie get up from her seat and start to walk over. She was wearing a simple slip dress and expensive tights with chunky velvet platforms. Beautiful silver bangles jangled at her wrists. ‘Hi, babe,’ she said carefully. ‘Were you just taking a picture of us?’

I turned to Jenny, who was evidently perplexed. ‘How
lovely
to see you, Fran! I … This is odd!’ she exclaimed.

My heart thumped loudly in my chest. There was no escape.

And then something bizarre happened. Nellie kissed Jenny and Dmitri quickly, before turning back to me. She’d
known
they were coming?

‘Babe … what’s with the pictures?’

‘Hi, Michael!’ Jenny called. At this point I nearly fainted. Please, dear God, please let Michael not be walking up the stairs behind us.

And then I saw that Jenny was smiling and waving at Nellie’s lover, the handsome, flashy man who was getting up out of his chair and coming over towards us.
Michael?
I heard Jenny’s voice, as if through a cloud, tinkling, ‘Congratulations, Michael! What wonderful news! And do you know Fran too? Well, this is all a bit funny, who’d have thought it?’

Nellie was engaged to a man called Michael. Who was not Michael Slater. Not my Michael. Not my boy.
She didn’t have my boy
. Michael had never kissed her. I felt tears of relief and shock form in my eyes and, before I had time to do anything about it, they started falling. I sat down suddenly on the floor and leaned against the door frame. ‘Oh, my God,’ I whispered. ‘It’s OK. It’s not Michael.’

I came to a few seconds later. Jenny was kneeling next to me, looking floppy and worried. Dmitri was striding over with a white-aproned waiter, who was holding a glass of water. Nellie’s long, toned legs were rising up in front of me and this new Michael was on his haunches, staring at me. I pulled myself up a little bit so I was sitting properly rather than sprawling against the door frame. They all talked over each other and I drank some water, working out what the hell to do next.

The decision was taken out of my hands by a gravelly Glaswegian voice. ‘Oh, bloody hell, Fran. What have you done? Get up off the floor!’ Dave’s hand was outstretched in front of me.

Jenny started telling him that I’d just sort of fainted and Nellie started to say hello to him, recognizing him from Meditation.

As the dizziness began to subside, I found myself in possibly the most embarrassing situation of my entire life. I took Dave’s hand and got up slowly, dusting myself down. Five different pairs of eyes stared at me, waiting
for an explanation. Jenny looked deeply and genuinely concerned, Nellie was a bit embarrassed, and the men wore the expression that men always wear when a woman has just done something inexplicably silly.

Dave’s eyes were boring into me: he was daring me to make up yet another lie. As I cleared my throat he shook his head, a tiny, almost imperceptible movement, which only I saw. He was right. There was only one thing for it.

‘Right. Hi, Jenny. Hi, Dmitri. It’s nice to see you. Sorry I decked it. And, Nellie, erm, hi. And Michael, yes?’ He nodded. ‘Well, nice to meet you. In fact, Jesus, you have
no
idea how pleased I am to meet you.’

They were clearly bewildered. The waiter drifted off, already losing interest.

‘Er … ahem. I …’

Dave reached for my hand and gave it a quick squeeze.

‘Well, you see, the thing is, and you are totally allowed to have me sectioned or fired or something, if you want, but, um …’ This was mortifying beyond my worst nightmares.

Dave squeezed my hand again. ‘Come on. The sooner you do this, the sooner you can let it all go,’ he murmured.

I glanced up at him for reassurance. He nodded and smiled.

And with that I began to smile too. ‘Nellie, basically I thought you were going out with Jenny’s
brother Michael. He’s my ex. He broke my heart.’ Jenny flinched but I carried on: ‘We broke up a couple of months ago and he said something about a Nellie. So I looked at his Facebook friends and found you and decided that he was going out with you. It’s killed me. I’ve … well, I’ve been pretty much stalking you, trying to work out what’s going on,’ I said.

Nellie crinkled her brow, clearly disbelieving. ‘But, babe,
how
? I mean, we met by chance at that meditation class.’

I looked at the floor. Nellie started laughing. ‘Oh, my God, you’re precious. You invited me, didn’t you?’ I nodded, scarlet. ‘And the shoot with Isabelle? Oh, my
God
, babe, that’s
soooo
funny! And the running club!’ By now Nellie was really laughing, her smoky Sloane voice suddenly warm with affection and amusement. ‘Oh, babe, and what terrible bad luck that Michael is called Michael! Of all the bloody names!’

Michael, standing next to her in an impeccably cut suit, was restlessly tapping his foot. He began to smile too. ‘Women,’ he said, raising his eyebrows despairingly at Dmitri. Dmitri jangled the change in the pocket of his equally impeccable suit and nodded.

Suddenly Jenny threw her arms round me. ‘Oh, Fran,’ she cried. ‘Oh, my poor Fran, you must have been going out of your mind. God, this is all so wrong. You and Michael should be
together
! You’re made for each other!’

I’d really missed Jenny. I realized now that in my
haste to stalk Nellie I’d kind of abandoned her as an ally. We pulled apart and she looked at me with eyes full of compassion. ‘Poor old Fran,’ she said again. ‘Come and have dinner with us.’

I began to back away into Dave. ‘No, no, I …’

She was firm. ‘No, I insist. Nellie? Is this OK? My bloody brother has put this poor girl through hell. I promise you she’s a good egg!’

Nellie smiled. ‘Yuh, I know. We get on well. And I
love
that I had a little stalker! How cool! Yuh, Fran, you must join us. We’re celebrating the engagement!’

I looked at Dave. He shrugged. ‘Are you sure you’re not freaked out?’ I asked Nellie.

‘No, babe! No, I love it! I’m a total full-on Facebook addict! I stalked my ex like a
fiend
when we split up! Oops, sorry, sweetie,’ she added, patting Michael’s sleeve.

‘Yup. Come and join us. Waiter, two more, please,’ said Michael, springing to life. He had a posh, assertive voice and looked like he’d exterminate you if you crossed him. The waiter all but ran to get the extra place settings.

An hour later, everyone was still laughing – albeit kindly – at my expense. The mood was relaxed and Dave was in excellent spirits, regaling everyone with tales of my insane tactics. ‘I couldn’t believe she went running with you,’ he told Nellie. ‘I mean, did you notice how fuckin’ uncoordinated she is?’

‘Shut it,’ I told him. ‘I’d like to see you running.’

Nellie giggled uncontrollably.

I’d avoided asking Jenny anything about Michael for the last hour or so. Since she’d said that he’d been miserable without me I’d been floating on a cloud of joy and relief; I knew I’d find out more in due course. All that mattered was that he missed me. Now she took my hand and started talking.

‘I still don’t understand why you thought my Michael was with Nellie, my love,’ she said kindly. ‘What was it he said about a Nellie that made you look for her in his Facebook friends?’

‘Well, the day you went into labour you asked me to call Dmitri so I did and then I …’ Jenny looked at me with such sympathy that I suddenly felt close to tears ‘… and, God, Jenny, I’m so sorry. I looked at your phone because I was so miserable and mad and I wanted to see if he’d texted you. And he had. He said he was with a Nellie. So I kind of called him and he thought it was you. He said he was with Nellie and she had some jumpers and he was walking her home and then coming to the hospital.’

‘
Love
it, babe.’ Nellie giggled.

Deep breath. ‘And then I found her in his Facebook friends and Googled her and found she worked in PR. And I realized she must have been the fashion PR who’d been giving you free maternity clothes, and because she’s so bloody beautiful, I just thought he must be shacked up with her –’ Nellie smiled,
obviously loving this ‘– and then when I called you in hospital a few days later he was there with Nellie. I heard both of them.’