Guess Who I Pulled Last Night? (17 page)

“Sorry, what are you talking about Gwen?”  Used to
Gwen’s ramblings, Charlotte dropped her head and carried on working.

“The Irish bloke visiting again.”

Now her attention was well and truly grabbed.  “What?
When? I mean, so what, who cares?”

“Well I think you do.”  Gwen smiled as she swung around
on her chair.

“Oh please, for your information – AGAIN, I’m not
interested.”  Charlotte shook her head disdainfully, trying desperately
not to look as though she was.

Gwen looked around to check that Bobby and Laura were busy,
then leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially in Charlotte’s ear. 
“Charlotte, the cards do not lie.  I have seen that there is a deep
attraction there.”

“Yes Gwen, there is, he has a deep attraction for himself,”
whispered Charlotte in turn.

Gwen shook her head.  “No I’m sorry, but you cannot
fight it.  There will not be an easy ride, but your destiny does lie with
each other, I’m afraid.”  With that she gave a big stage wink and wandered
off, shimmying to her version of The Boomtown Rats.

By six o'clock, everyone else had gone from the office, and
Charlotte was now packing up, ready to leave.  Since Gwen’s announcement,
at ten minutes to five, there had been no sign of Niall Devine.  Charlotte
was beginning to wonder whether Gwen had, in fact, dreamt him being there, she
smiled, considering whether she would be like that when she reached her
fifties.

Charlotte was so busy planning her fifty plus wardrobe that
she didn’t notice the figure stood next to her desk.  As she leaned over
to turn off her computer, Charlotte noticed a navy blue trouser leg, distinctly
expensive and well cut.  She almost threw up over it when she realised who
it belonged to.

“Oh hello,” she whispered, the colour rising.  “What
can I do for you?”

“Nothing as such, I’d like to ask you about
yesterday.”  Niall did not look happy.

“I’m sorry,” exclaimed Charlotte, her dander suddenly very
up.  “What is there to talk about?”

“I would have thought that was obvious, it was quite a
scene.”  Niall now had his arms folded firmly across his chest.

“Yes, a scene where I admit made a total fool of myself, but
I’m not really sure why we need to discuss it.”  Charlotte now stood up,
but the effect was negligible; he was six feet at least, and she was only five
feet six.  Nevertheless, she carried on regardless.  “I’m sorry but
who do you think you are?” she asked, hands on hips.

“I happen to represent one of your biggest clients, and as
such I feel I should receive a much more professional level of service,” he
replied, calmly.

“Admittedly, but you are a client, if anyone should tell me
how to behave, then it should be Paul.  I certainly haven’t seen him in
here giving me a roasting, so why should you?”  Charlotte was now in full
flow and had no intentions of stopping, even if her lungs depended on it. 
“What exactly are you annoyed about, the fact that I lied about having a
fiancé, or that you fell for it.  Maybe it’s because I don’t fawn all over
you, like the rest of the people in this building.”

Niall shook his head disdainfully.  “Finished? 
Only I have a few words for you too.  Firstly, I do feel that I have a
right to speak to you about your behaviour.  If you knew anything about
business, you would know that the client is king, and should be treated
accordingly.  Ever since I brought my business here you have thrown snide
comments, ignored me whenever possible, embarrassed me in a restaurant that I
use frequently for business lunches and, to top it all, I’ve seen your
underwear twice, how professional do you think all that makes you?  I have
ploughed a lot of my boss’s money into this company, so if I don’t feel that
the people responsible can hack it, then obviously I’m going to be
worried.  If you go down subsequently so do I.”  Charlotte opened her
mouth to speak, but Niall simply held up his hand in defiance.  “Luckily
Paul knows what is what, so I don’t really have to worry on that score, but if
you really want to step into his shoes, then you have got a lot of growing up
to do.  How professional, and grown up is it to pretend that you have a
fiancé.  No least to try and rope your brother into it, were you worried
that I would tell Grant, is that it?”  He now hit a nerve, and Charlotte
lowered her head in shame.  “I thought so, very mature.”

“Look, I told you yesterday, it was you who assumed that Tom
was my boyfriend at the football,” cried Charlotte.

“But why let me go on thinking it?”

“But what business is it of yours; I don’t ask you about
your love life.”  Then a thought struck her.  “You could have a wife
and two kids for all I know.”  Niall didn’t answer, so Charlotte carried
on.  “I admit that when Tom came over I should have introduced you
properly, but I…”

“But you didn’t and let me make a fool of myself thinking
all sorts about you.”

“Ha, that’s it isn’t it. I made a fool of you. That's what
you can’t stand.  Like I give a shit.”

“Charlotte, that’s enough.”  Paul, who had just come to
the room, stood grim faced, by the doorway.  He moved towards them,
rubbing a hand through his unruly curls.  “I’m sorry for Charlotte’s
language and behaviour Niall; she’s not normally like this.”

“Paul, please don’t apologise for me, he started it,” cried
Charlotte, mortified.

“Charlotte, I’ve just said that’s enough.  Niall I
think that it would be best if you left.”  Paul’s tone was measured, as he
looked from one to the other.

“Paul, please it was just a spat over nothing, sure I’ve
forgotten it already.”  Niall looked distinctly uncomfortable, as he
backed away to the door.

“Goodnight Niall, I’ll speak to you soon.”  Paul waited
for him to close the door before he turned back to Charlotte.  “I’m not
going to ask you what it was about, but I think that I can guess.  I told
you that it would turn out like this, and whether you think that he has a valid
complaint or not, at the end of the day his company is one of our biggest
clients, and this evening’s little fiasco does not make us look good.  I
don’t really care how he feels personally, but because of the business
situation, I feel that we have some serious grovelling to do for him to change
his opinion of us.”

“It’s not you or the business he is annoyed at; it's me,”
Charlotte cried.

“You are my right hand woman Charlotte, the person that I
have selected to run this office when we take over Palmer & Blunderstone,
of course it’s the company, and of course, it’s me that he is annoyed
with.  Now if you don’t mind I’m pretty tired, so I’m going home.  I
suggest that you do the same and think about how we can win Mr Devine, the
client, around.  Goodnight Charlotte.”

“Night Paul.”  Then she was left alone, feeling rather
like she had when she had been eight years old and fed laxatives to next door's
cat.  Dad made her spend the evening in her room, thinking of the
consequences of her actions.  When she thought about it, the two incidents
were the opposite sides of the same coin.  One couldn’t stop shitting and
the other was full of shit!  Sighing heavily, Charlotte locked up her desk
and left for home, looking forward to an evening gossiping at Bets’ flat.

Later, that evening Bets and Charlotte told each other about
the day’s events.  Needless to say Kerry did not turn up; she had called
Bets previously to say that she was going to be having an early night.

“So, how do you feel now, after actually speaking to one of
his family?” Charlotte asked.

“A little better actually, it has kind of put things into perspective.” 
Charlotte looked at Bets enquiringly, not sure what she meant.  “Well,”
Bets continued, “just think how they all must be feeling, and yet Emma was so
brave about it all, at least trying to be, trying to get on with her life.”

Charlotte nodded. “Yes I understand what you mean,” she
replied, “but it doesn’t mean that you should try to forget about him and what
happened.”

“Oh God no, I couldn’t, not yet, but at least now I know
that I made him happy, which, for some bizarre reason, makes things easier to
cope with.”  Bets sighed heavily.

“I can understand that too, it means that it wasn’t all a
waste of time,” said Charlotte.

Bets nodded.  “That’s it exactly; it was a meaningful
relationship, no matter how short, because we made each other happy.  Unlike
you, and Mr Devine. You make each other as miserable as sin.”  She
giggled, cuffing Charlotte lightly around the head.

“Oh don’t,” she groaned, “I don’t want to think about it.”

“Well you are a wally, fancy him thinking you and Tom were
not only related, but having a sexual relationship.  Why didn’t you own
up?” Bets asked, never ceasing to be amazed at the ridiculous situations
Charlotte got herself into.

“Because, well because, I just couldn’t, I suppose that I
was embarrassed.”  Charlotte knew that Bets was right, she should have
owned up as soon as she had seen Tom through the window.

“What, as embarrassed as you are now then?”  Bets took
a large sip from her wine.

“I’m not embarrassed. I'm angry.  He’s so annoying.
He's so pig headed, and he’s so…”

“Sexy, yeah you said,” Bets quipped, moving sharply to one
side before the cushion hit her.

The next morning Charlotte arrived at work with a rather
thick head, seeing instantly the now-familiar silver car, annoyingly parked in
her space.

“Oh God, why do you hate me so much?” she cried, banging her
head on the steering wheel.

Ten minutes later and Charlotte was sat, with her chin on
her hands, watching disinterestedly as Paul approached her desk.  She knew
that he wouldn’t still be mad; Paul didn’t hold grudges.

“Morning,” she groaned.

“Oh dear, heavy night was it?” he asked.  “Oh well I’m
not sure that you are going to like my suggestion, I’m afraid.”

“Why, what is it?” Charlotte asked, lifting her head up.

“By way of an apology to Niall, I think that you should take
him to lunch and show him how you can behave.”  Paul moved back a pace,
expecting Charlotte’s full blast.

“Whatever, just don’t expect me to speak to him though, you
can do all that.”

Paul shook his head. “No, I don’t think that you understand
Charlotte, I’m not coming. This is your apology, and you are on your own on
this one.”

Charlotte stood up, ready to land a punch on Paul’s nose,
but then decided that as she was building bridges with him, a little more
decorum would be needed.  “What do you mean?” she asked through gritted
teeth.  “I can’t possibly go to lunch on my own with him, please Paul,”
she pleaded, now sitting back down because her head hurt.

“Sorry poppet, but you made a mess of this one, so you’ve
got to tidy it up.”  Paul smiled kindly at her, as Charlotte dropped her
head to the desk.  “I’ve booked you a table at The Bell for 12:30, so make
sure that you are ready.  Oh and by the way, don’t try to escape, I have
warned the necessary people.”  He turned and winked at Gwen, who smiled
coyly.

“Okay, but I really hope that all your teeth drop out at an
early age.”  Charlotte felt like crying, but she knew that it would be
futile; Paul could be just like a man at times – stubborn.

“I do think that you are being over dramatic you know. He's
a sweetheart and an absolute dear, and you’ll have a lovely time.”  Paul
turned upon his heel and escaped, before Charlotte changed her mind and decided
to kill him there and then.

As he rushed through the door, Charlotte decided that she
definitely needed some guidance, so she picked up the phone.

“Hello, Beauty Box, Cheryl speaking, can I help you?”

“Cheryl, hi, quickly get Bets for me please,” Charlotte
pleaded.

“Oh dear is it the Irishman again?”  Cheryl giggled on
the other end.

Bets had obviously been gossiping about her, Charlotte
realised.  “I know; I know, please just get her.”

After a few minutes, Bet’s voice came on the line. 
“What now, don’t tell me, it’s about him again, or do you have another world
stopping problem?” Bets asked, teasingly.

“Yes it’s about him. I have to go to lunch with him;
alone.  Paul is making me by way of an apology.”  Charlotte was
almost screaming with hysteria now.

Bets sighed heavily on the other end.  “Charlotte, go
and have lunch and stop making such a big deal out of it.  So he’s seen
your nipples and your knickers, plus he thinks that you and your brother are
having a sexual relationship, so what is the problem?”

“I really, really do hate you.  I’ll go, but if this
turns out to be the worst day of my life, I will never ever speak to you
again,” replied Charlotte through gritted teeth.

“Okay, but before you stop speaking to me, just give me a
call and let me know what happened.”

Charlotte slammed the phone down in disgust, she was now
feeling betrayed that one of her best friends could find such a traumatic
situation so funny.

By 12:15 Charlotte was a nervous wreck, there had been no
sign of Niall, thank God, but she knew that he was around, and she also knew
that he was playing with her.

“Don’t even know what he’s doing here, again,” she muttered
to no one, in particular, while she packed her things away.  “Thank God,
I’ve worn my new pinstriped suit,” she informed her computer as she turned it
off.  Then, very slowly, she collected her coat from the stand behind her,
and taking short steps, made her way to Paul’s office. 

Charlotte poked her head round the door, but there was no
sign of Niall.  “Let’s hope he’s gone,” she sighed, running a hand through
her hair.

“Sorry to disappoint you.”  The rich Irish accent came
from behind Paul’s desk.  “I dropped my pen,” he explained, getting up off
his hands and knees.

“Sorry, erm, are you ready?”  Charlotte couldn’t look
at him.

Niall nodded and put his pen in his inside jacket pocket, showing
Charlotte a sneaky peak of his broad chest, straining against the pale blue
cotton of his shirt.

They walked in silence, Niall politely holding a couple of
doors open for Charlotte, but there was no conversation and definitely no eye
contact.  They were walking down the driveway when Bobby came running out
after them, calling Charlotte’s name.  She turned sharply, a smile on her
face, hoping that some crisis had occurred, and she would have to go back.

“Bobby, what is it?” she asked breathlessly.

“Your bag, you forgot it,” he replied, even more
breathlessly.  “You won’t get very far without your purse will you?” 
He shoved the bag at her, looking awkward at having had to carry it.

“Huh, the thing's people will do to get out of paying for
lunch,” laughed Niall, smiling broadly; he saw Charlotte’s face turn to a
grimace.  “It was a joke.”

Charlotte remembered that she was supposed to be changing
his opinion of her.  “Yes I know,” she said, watching Bobby’s strange gait
carrying him back to the office.  “Trust me to forget, I’m not usually
this dippy you know, only I’ve a lot on my mind at the moment.”  She
turned back to Niall, and flinging her bag over her shoulder, carried on
walking down the drive.

“Right,” he answered shortly, following her.

“Err, we’re going to The Bell. It's only a ten-minute
walk," called Charlotte over her shoulder.  There was no response,
and the rest of the journey continued in silence.

They made the ten minutes’ walk to the pub in around five
minutes, leaving Charlotte gasping for breath by the time they got there. 
The icy silence and biting wind spurred her on.

“Bloody hell, do you power walk for a hobby?”  Niall
asked, as they entered the thick heat of the pub.

“A decent brisk walk does the heart good, what would you
like?”  Charlotte asked, not looking at him as she fished inside her
handbag for her purse.

“No, I’ll get these,” he said, pushing past her. 
“What’ll yer have?”

“A pint of lager,” Charlotte said jokingly, expecting Niall
to give her one of his looks, but he didn’t bat an eyelid.

“Grand, a girl after my own heart; two pints of lager please
and we have a table booked.”

“Of course sir, what name is it in?”

Niall looked enquiringly at Charlotte, who shook her
head.  “Price or Palmer,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders.

“Okay, if you’d like to take a seat in the restaurant,
someone will be over to take your order and bring you your drinks.”  The
ruddy-faced landlord pointed to the direction of a set of tables, set on a
slightly higher level at the other end of the bar.

They fought their way through a group of poorly dressed
salesmen at the bar, with Niall leading the way to a table set for two people
by the window.  Charlotte sat down in the chair that he held away from the
table for her.

“Don’t think that I’m being gentlemanly, but I’d hate to see
you flat on your arse again.”  He smiled, but Charlotte didn’t look at him
as she sat down, she just kept repeating a mantra again and again in her head.

“Be nice, he’s a client; be nice he’s a client.”

“Nice place here, what do you recommend eating then?” he
asked, realising that the joke hadn’t gone down very well.

Charlotte looked up to see him peering closely at the
menu.  “The grilled trout is nice, if you like fish, obviously.  Or
they do a gorgeous homemade lasagne, which is what I’m going to have,” she
said, relief flooding through her that he was trying to be fairly pleasant.

While he continued to study the menu, Charlotte settled back
in her seat, taking a sip of lager.  She would only normally have pints
when she was really drunk, or out with Tom, never when on a date.  God,
what was she thinking, this wasn’t a date? It was a business lunch to improve a
business relationship.  For a few minutes, Charlotte gazed out of the
window, but then she couldn’t fight the urge any longer, and looked at Niall
over the rim of her glass.  She thought that he was very attractive, but
at the same time he was a swine of the highest order, or lowest, whichever was
worse.  Finally, a waitress came to take their order.  She was a
pretty, small, dark girl who smiled radiantly at Niall when he looked up at
her; he seemed not to notice, his nose suddenly stuck back in his menu.

“I think that I’ll go for the lady's recommendation and have
the lasagne, in fact, I think that we want two of those, don’t we?” 
Charlotte nodded toward the girl, who scribbled it down onto her notepad. 
“Could we have a bowl of chips with those please?”  Niall finished,
snapping the menu shut and looking up at the waitress.

“Certainly sir.”  She smiled again.  Then brushing
her arm against his, reached across and picked up the two discarded menus,
before wiggling off to the kitchen.

Charlotte was pleased that Niall had ordered chips. She'd
been dying to ask for some, but thought that it might appear a little greedy,
knowing the size of the portions, but now it didn’t matter.  Suddenly, the
uneasiness of the situation reared its ugly head again, and they sat in
silence, trying to avoid eye contact.  Because she was nervous Charlotte
kept taking big gulps of her drink, then after each mouthful, grinning inanely
at Niall and shrugging her shoulders.  Once she realised what she was
doing it became harder to stop, and so she continued after each mouthful, until
in the end it took an almighty effort to stop doing it.  Charlotte
realised that she seriously should say something, before he really did think
that she was a crackpot who wasn’t willing to make an effort.

Coughing nervously, in preparation, she started a
conversation.  “So how long have you lived in England then?”  Niall
wasn’t looking at her, but out of the window, she thought about poking him, but
coughed loudly instead.  Niall turned back sharply.

“Sorry did you say something?”  He looked concerned,
also aware that they were trying to build bridges and not wanting to appear
rude.

“I was just asking how long you’ve lived in England.” 
Charlotte took another sip of lager, but managed to stop the grin and the
shrug.

“Ooh, twelve years now, I came over to study law at Lancaster
University,” he explained, taking his turn to have a drink.

“Don’t you miss your family, or do you get to see them a
fair amount?”  Charlotte found it impossible not to study him as she
waited for his response.

“My da is dead, fortunately, and I get to see ma quite a
lot.  I try to go home at least every couple of months to see her and my
five sisters.”  Niall looked wistfully into his drink, running a finger
along the edge of his glass.

“Ooh five sisters, that’s a lot of women in one
house.”  Charlotte smiled widely, choosing to ignore the comments about
his dad.

Niall nodded vigorously.  “Hmm you’re not kidding.”

“So where is home then, if you don’t think I’m being too
nosey?”  She asked.

“Not at all, Dunlaoghaire, you know where the ferry goes to.” 
Charlotte nodded in recognition.  “Lived there all my life until I was
nineteen.  I hated the place and couldn’t wait to leave, yet I really look
forward to going home now, funny isn’t it?”

Charlotte shook her head.  “Nope, I think you’ll find
that it’s looking at life through rose-tinted spectacles.  You’re probably
like me and remember everything as being bigger and better when you were a
kid.”

Niall nodded. “Yeah, the summer holidays were always boiling
hot, and lasted for ever.”

“And Wagon Wheels were much bigger than they are now,”
joined in Charlotte, airing both her and Bets favourite grievance.

They both laughed, and then it was silent again while they
waited for their food.  As they sat in silence once more, Charlotte felt
that she should try and apologise for her behaviour in the office, the way that
she had spoken to him.

“L-l-look,” she stammered.  “I just wanted to say I’m
was sorry for last night, what I said.  It was totally unprofessional, and
I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.  I hope that your opinion of me
doesn’t affect the one that you have of the company, and again, I am sorry,”
she babbled, looking everywhere except at Niall.

He shook his head slowly.  “I was as much to blame, you
were correct; I had no right to speak to you like that.”

Charlotte felt herself blush slightly; she hadn’t expect him
to be so magnanimous. “Well let’s forget it shall we and at least try to get on
over lunch, and I promise that there will be no surprise fiancés making an
appearance,” she said smiling a very thin smile.

 Niall nodded.  “Okay, we can try.”

The bar was very busy, due to the pre- Christmas rush, which
meant that lunch was a long time in coming.  It was so late that by the
time it did arrive, they were both well into their third drink.  Charlotte
had gone onto white wine by this time, sensing that if she carried on drinking
pints she may not be responsible for her actions, or words.  She was
relieved when the food did arrive.  Her stomach was starting to make some
funny noises, plus the lack of conversation was deafening.

“Hmm, smells lovely,” said Niall, as he reached across to
fork some chips from the bowl.