How to Get a (Love) Life (28 page)

‘I wanted to ask that you leave him alone.’

I didn’t need to ask her who she meant by ‘him’.

I felt the blood rush to my face. ‘I’m not, I don’t …’

‘I know all about girls like you,’ she announced, eyes narrowing. ‘And I won’t let you make trouble for me. I hear what he says about you. Oh, it’s all very cosy up in that office, isn’t it?’ She stressed the word ‘cosy’, drawing it out so that I grimaced with every letter.

What had he said about me? What about our office? I fought the urge to ask, a little bubble of, what was it – hope? – suddenly sparking in my stomach.

‘Thalia, I’m not doing anything,’ I said, gesturing with my arms.

‘You know what you’re doing.’

‘I’m not doing anything,’ I repeated.

She scoffed quickly, her eyes glinting.

Was
I doing anything? Was I causing trouble? I tried to look at it from her point of view. The woman in the office, the birthday party, the brief moments when we’d shared a laugh or a joke. That look … Hadn’t I had a few thoughts like this in recent weeks? Hadn’t I considered … I shook my head, I hadn’t
done
anything, though.

Something gnawed at me. Colleagues were close, they shared some funny times, they spent time together, that’s all it was. And she couldn’t know what I felt. I felt tears sting the back of my eyes. I brushed at my face, feeling suddenly angry. I would not stand here and let this woman see me cry.

I focused on the space above her head and talked to the air. ‘You have nothing to worry about.’

‘Oh I know that.’ She laughed, a high, mean little noise.

‘Well then,’ I said quietly, head dropping.

‘I just wanted to be crystal clear about things, Nicola. I wanted to tell you that I know what you’re doing and I wanted to spell out what I think about it, what I’ve seen. And don’t you dare think of talking to James about this, because I’ll deny we spoke. And you’ll look even more pathetic with those little doe eyes following him around. It’s pitiful.’

Was it? Was I pitiful? The tears threatened to spill over. I swallowed, trying to recover myself.

She was done with me. She smiled widely. ‘I’m glad we talked.’ She spun around, long glossy hair flying out behind her, one hand on her black leather handbag, the other hailing a nearby taxi.

I stood on the street looking after her, all purpose forgotten, utterly miserable. I wanted to throw up. I shuffled slowly over to a bench just up the hill, sank onto it, the little stick of gum, hot from me squeezing it, dropping to the floor as I sat.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Single girl WLTM unattached man who she doesn’t work with and who doesn’t have a nasty supermodel girlfriend with great clothes.

Contact: Box No. 5790

Dragging myself back to my feet, I realised I had left all the notes for my meeting tomorrow back in the office. I would need something to take my mind off things that evening and so I trudged back down Park Street to fetch them. Believing everyone to have gone home, I was alarmed to hear a voice and realised that James was talking on the phone. I was in no hurry to see him and walked quickly over to my desk to scoop up the notes and get out of there. The door to his office was open and I was relieved to hear him tell whoever it was that he was going away over the next couple of days, ‘working’ (if you could call your hot supermodel-type girlfriend wrapping her legs and Louboutin-encased feet around you in some kind of spa hotel ‘work’). I was just about to escape when I heard him click down the phone. ‘Is that you Nicola?’ he called through.

Damn.

Frozen to the spot, I closed my eyes. Could I simply creep out? Pretend I wasn’t here? Why couldn’t I have just gone straight home?

He stepped out of his office.

‘I thought it was you,’ he said, one hand through his hair, a hint of a smile on his face. ‘I thought I saw you outside just now.’

I nodded. I desperately wanted to flee the scene, magic myself home.

‘That was Chris on the phone,’ James said. ‘He’s renewed his contract with us, so thank you for er … well whatever you did to persuade him, I’m grateful.’

I bristled with the suggestion. ‘I didn’t
do
anything.’

‘I know. I’m sorry, that isn’t what I meant.’ He took a step towards me. ‘So, why are you back here, Nicola?’

‘I was just popping back for some notes,’ I claimed, shuffling the papers on my desk.

‘Was that Thalia I saw you talking to in the street just now?’

‘Yes,’ I replied.

I didn’t need him to say anything more. I wanted to get out of there, to get home and hide under a duvet and block the world out. I shoved the notes in my bag and left the office without another word.

Maybe Thalia was right and I
was
trying to capture James’ attention at work, trying to muscle in with him, forge a closeness with somebody. Had Thalia seen me for what I was? The guilty party? I walked down the street and cringed as I thought of the New Year’s Eve and my behaviour with Chris, a married man – something I had always said I would never do. And fine, I hadn’t known he was married but maybe I
was
that girl, a girl that didn’t care about others, just selfishly going about doing whatever she liked and stampeding over the relationships of other people. All these efforts to bag a man in time for Valentine’s Day had simply done one thing – highlighted how much I wanted to find a match, someone I could laugh with at the same stupid things, be myself with and not be afraid to show the ugly bits or worry they’d be put off if I was just me. I wanted the nights in together mooching about cooking food, watching films and planning trips away. More than that I wanted to make plans with someone else, travel with them, share a flat with them. I wanted my life to change.

Valentine’s Day is round the corner and I’ve lost the dare, I haven’t managed it. I’m going to be alone again.

My mobile trilled. ‘Sis,’ came Mark’s voice. ‘That was quick.’

‘Hey.’

‘You normally force me to leave you voicemail, I—’

‘—I’m on my way home,’ I interrupted him.

‘You okay?’

I made a noise somewhere between a ‘Huh’ and a ‘No’.

Mark lowered his voice. ‘I’ll pop over for an hour.’

I could feel the tears threaten again.

I gulped and whispered a quiet, ‘Thanks’ and hung up.

Wrapping my coat around me, I traipsed back to my empty flat. I felt so tired, like I’d been running for ages. I needed to sit down.

Mark came over as promised and I let him in with a smile, already feeling lighter just looking at him, beloved helmet under his left arm, leather jacket slung over his right.

‘You worried me, sis. It’s not like you to sound so down,’ he announced, drawing me in for a one-armed hug.

‘I’m alright,’ I said, giving him a small smile and walking through to the kitchen. ‘Let me get you some tea on.’

‘Hey, sis,’ he said as I poured the boiling water into a mug.

‘Yeah?’

Mark looked shyly at his toes. ‘Carol agreed to move in with me,’ he said, not able to keep from grinning.

‘That’s
brilliant
news,’ I said, butting him affectionately with my hip.

‘Hey, you know you’ll work it all out too,’ he said.

‘I hope so,’ I admitted, handing him his tea and pouring myself a glass of milk.

‘You will. You’ll meet someone perfect for you. You’re a cracking girl. Although,’ he paused, ‘you do currently have a milk moustache.’

I swiped at my face and gave Mark a push for good measure when I heard the flat buzzer going. Frowning at Mark, I hurried through to the living room and pushed down on the intercom to hear James’ voice crackling over the line.

‘I work with her …’ he was saying in an insistent voice.

The unmistakeable Portuguese reply was clear. ‘I’ve not seen you here before.’

‘It’s okay, Julio,’ I called into the intercom. ‘I know him.’

Without a moment to compose myself, and hastily wiping at my face for any last traces of milk, I watched in slow motion as James walked up the stairwell. He was wearing the camel-coloured winter coat that I loved and seemed flustered when he appeared at the top of the stairs.

Catching my perplexed expression as I stood in the doorway, he glanced behind him. ‘You have quite a bouncer downstairs,’ he laughed. ‘I had to prove my honour or he wouldn’t let me pass.’

I smiled in a slightly stunned way, questions buzzing around my head. ‘That’s Julio,’ I said, in an oddly high voice.

James started to thrust objects awkwardly into my arms. ‘I thought you looked a bit pale earlier. I thought you might be ill. I brought you some get well gifts,’ he explained.

‘Oh, thank you,’ I said, feeling redness creep up my neck, embarrassed that he was bringing me presents when I was perfectly fine, just feeling upset after being confronted by his girlfriend.

A chisel and a box of Maltesers.

‘I know you’ve taken up carpentry so I assumed you might find some use for it, the chisel that is, the Maltesers are just for eating.’ He gave a quick laugh and put a hand up to the back of his neck. If I hadn’t known better I would have guessed he was embarrassed too. Why couldn’t I be better in these situations? Why couldn’t I put him at ease?

‘Thank you, that’s very kind,’ I said, smiling. Despite myself, I felt some of my earlier happiness returning. James had come to see me, he’d brought me gifts.

‘Look, Nicola,’ he started. ‘I know you spoke to Thalia. And the thing is, I wanted to be clear with you that—’

Just then Mark’s voice called out, ‘Tea or coffee?’

James took a step backwards. ‘I’m so sorry, I’m interrupting, you have company already, of course you do, I’ll go,’ he said, turning around to leave.

‘No, it’s fine, come in and have tea,’ I said, concerned I sounded pathetic. ‘He’s just—’

‘—No, I should’ve thought, just bursting in on you.’ He looked at me, his face fixed in a frown. ‘I misunderstood.’ He started back down the stairs.

Mark appeared in the doorway, looping an arm around my shoulders.

‘Hey,’ he said looking at James.

James paused in his descent, turned back to see Mark and I in the doorway, and continued quickly down the stairs, muttering a last apology as he went.

‘James—’ I called, but he’d already gone.

‘What was that all about?’ asked Mark, eyeing me as I clutched my chisel and chocolate.

I swallowed heavily, my throat dry. ‘Nothing. It was nothing,’ I said, pushing the door firmly closed.

Later that evening when Mark had gone and the Maltesers had been eaten, I admitted defeat. Tomorrow was Valentine’s Day and I had not been able to find the perfect man. My stomach churned, and in a flurry of activity I grabbed my laptop and typed something into Google. I wouldn’t be alone on Valentine’s Day. I couldn’t face it. I needed to take drastic action. In a rash click of buttons, the uploading of my payment details, and a gulp, I had done it: I was going on a Singles Holiday.

I picked up the phone and dialled Caroline’s number, explaining to her voicemail that I wouldn’t be in work after all tomorrow. Then, in a babble, I recounted my latest hasty holiday-booking action. I wanted her to know that I hadn’t given up. I wanted her to know that the dare had changed me. Had coloured in my life. As I made a quick goodbye on her machine and hung up, I wondered briefly whether I would continue in that job. I loved it, but how on earth would I cope with seeing him every day?

I shook myself to rid my head of the thought and pulled down my suitcase. Sliding the door of the wardrobe across, I stared at my clothes. Right. What outfit would best suit a girl on a Singles Holiday?

Chapter Thirty-Seven

The slow, steady patter of rain seemed to reflect the bleak mood I found myself in as I took a cab to the airport the next morning and lugged my suitcase into the ‘Departures’ area. My heart felt as heavy as the bag I was struggling with as I looked around the terminal at all the couples and families leaving on their holidays. How had it come to this? Could anyone be this depressed on their way to a holiday in Crete? Should I turn back? Immediately, I pictured work and James’ face and realised I couldn’t.

The queue to the check-in desk seemed to snake around the entire building and I stood listlessly as we moved forward inch by inch. A tap on the shoulder and I was acquainted with a girl wearing an orange vest-top and pink patent stilettos.

‘You going too, eh?’

My head must have nodded because she replied, ‘Sick! Me too!’ and then pointed at her luggage. ‘Packing light as ever. Ha ha.’

I zoned out while the queue moved forward, offering vague responses as Overly Bright Airport Girl continued to try and make conversation. I attempted to cheer myself up with the thought that I was off on a holiday.
Come on Nicola, there will be sunshine and loungers.

‘You know, I’ve been on three of these holidays and I’ve
always
pulled.’ She paused to stretch a bit of the gum out before rolling it back in her mouth. ‘Shagged one guy for the whole week last time and then he got picked up at the airport by his
wife
. Awks.’

She smiled at me. It was my line.

‘That’s
terrible
,’ I said.

‘Yeah, whatevs. I ’spose it just wasn’t meant to be. Better than the 2011 guy who was super clingy. I had to be all, like, “Hellooo, back off, I am totes not into back hair.”’

Me again: ‘Er …’

‘Soooo, you hoping to meet a fella?’

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words stuck in my throat. I wondered again what I was doing in this queue of people: how had my life come to this?

‘Your first time?’ Her head cocked to one side.

‘Yes,’ I confirmed, as the gorgeously tanned woman behind the check-in desk beckoned me over. I approached and slid my passport over the counter. Overly Bright Airport Girl stayed fixed at my shoulder. I waited for Check-In Woman to shoo her back into the queue, but it was clearly assumed we were travelling together because Check-In Woman took her passport too. I turned to Overly Bright Airport Girl and said with a gulp: ‘It’s … my first singles holiday.’