It Had to Be You (13 page)

It’s not THAT big
, Lizzy texted back, feeling rather affronted.

The reply pinged back immediately.

It’s the size of a small planet.

Lizzy spent the afternoon calling round beauty salons.

Reuben lived in deepest darkest South East London, so Lizzy managed to leave work a bit early and set off. Her mother called just as they were pulling out of Waterloo.

‘Hi Mum. I’m on the train.’

‘Speak up, darling, I can’t hear you.’

‘I’m on the TRAIN,’ Lizzy hissed. Her undercarriage was still stinging from a particularly vicious waxer that Bianca had recommended. At least the redness had started to calm down.

‘No need to shout. Are you going out tonight?’

Lizzy hesitated. Telling her mother she had a second date was the equivalent of inviting a vampire over the threshold. Her mum would come into Lizzy’s love life wreaking chaos and terror and never, ever leave again.

The man sat opposite her was clearly eavesdropping. Lizzy turned her face to the window.

‘I’m going for dinner with this guy I’ve met.’ She didn’t say it was at his house; her mother would have a blue fit and start going on about some article she’d read in the
Daily Mail
about date rape.

‘This is an exciting development!’ Mrs Spellman said. ‘Michael, Lizzy’s got a date!’

‘Mum, can I call you back tomorrow?’ Lizzy asked, uncomfortably aware it was rush hour and the whole carriage was now listening in.

‘Dad wants to know who this chap banks with.’

‘What’s
that
got to do with anything?’

‘You know he likes to know those sorts of things. Doorbell, Michael, that’ll be the curry! Good luck, darling,’ she told Lizzy. Her voice boomed out like a tannoy. ‘Your father says: “Keep your hand on your ha’penny!”’

Reuben’s house looked a bit shabby from the outside in that way converted flats on a busy road often are. A scooter was parked by the bay window and there was a stained wheelie bin on a gravelled area that would be optimistically described by an estate agent as a front garden. Lizzy walked up the path, pressed the buzzer for flat B and waited nervously. A shadow appeared down the hallway and then Reuben appeared at the door, all tall and tousle-haired, bare brown feet poking out the bottom of his jeans. Lizzy felt another squeeze of desire.

‘You look pretty.’ He went to kiss her, but she got flustered and they sort of ended up banging noses.

‘These are for you!’ Lizzy thrust the Lindt chocolates at him. ‘I bought rosé and white wine, I wasn’t sure what you liked.’

‘I like both.’ He gave her his beautiful smile. ‘Come on in.’

The flat was nicer inside, with pieces of modern art adorning the walls and a bare, utilitarian vibe going on. Reuben led Lizzy into the living room, where a guy in pink skinny jeans was standing expectantly, as if he were waiting for a bus.

‘This is my housemate, Sven,’ Reuben said. ‘Sven, this is Lizzy.’

‘Hi!’ Sven grabbed her hand enthusiastically. He looked at Reuben. ‘Seeing as your guest has arrived, I’ll probably shoot off.’

He bounded from the room like a man who’d been granted a last-minute reprieve. Lizzy felt a bit nonplussed.

‘Sven was keeping me company until you came.’ Reuben gave her another slow, sexy smile. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Let me fix you a drink.’

Reuben sat down next to her on the small two-seater sofa and passed her a glass of rosé. He smelt of clean skin and Paul Smith aftershave. Lizzy’s lust levels were climbing by the second.

‘Cheers.’

‘Cheers,’ she said and they clinked glasses. The alcohol scored a direct hit in Lizzy’s bloodstream, taking the edge off her nerves.

‘You’ve got a really nice place,’ she told him.

‘Thanks. It could do with a lick of paint.’

‘I like that.’ Lizzy pointed to a print on the wall. It had loads of different bicycle wheels replicated over and over.

‘That’s one of mine.’

‘Wow!’ She was genuinely impressed. ‘It’s really, really good.’

‘It’s not really,’ he said modestly.

‘It totally is, Reuben!’

He shrugged, making his shoulders heave beautifully. ‘Anyway. Tell me about your day. You must get to go to some really cool parties when you work in PR.’

‘Some are quite fun,’ Lizzy said, briefly fantasizing about walking into a launch party with Reuben on her arm.
That
would give all those snooty beauty journalists something to talk about.

Reuben was studying her intently. ‘I can tell you’re really good at your job.’

‘I don’t know about that. Although if you want to know anything about haemorrhoids and itching rectums, I’m your woman!’

Reuben’s eyebrows shot up half an inch.

Why
, Lizzy wondered,
did I say that?

‘I mean it,’ he said. ‘I can see why you work in PR. You’re funny and confident and know how to put people at ease.’

Lizzy play-hit him on the knee. She was never good at taking compliments. ‘You’re not so bad yourself.’

‘I am,’ he sighed. ‘I’m a really bad person.’

‘You mean bad as in you’re about to confess to murdering someone?’

‘I’m not joking, Lizzy.’

She stopped smiling. ‘Oh.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, staring fixedly at the carpet. ‘I was really looking forward to you coming over tonight, but I’m feeling really low again suddenly.’ He leant forward and put his head in his hands.

Their WhatsApp conversations had been so easy and fun all week it had almost been easy to forget he was suffering from clinical depression. She felt desperately sorry for him, but at the same time she hardly knew the bloke.

‘Do you want me to go?’ she asked awkwardly after a full thirty seconds of silence.

‘No, stay.’ He looked at her with his beautiful, sad eyes. ‘Sorry. You didn’t come over here to hear about my problems.’

Forty minutes later Lizzy had single-handedly drained the bottle of rosé and Reuben was still going.

‘I just feel like there’s no point,’ he said gloomily. He’d been telling Lizzy about a new job he was applying for; apparently his therapist had told him he needed to get out of the house more. ‘I won’t get an interview.’

‘Of course you’ll get an interview. It sounds like a really great job.’

‘That’s exactly why I won’t get it. It’s my inner child, telling me I’m not good enough. I’ll always be that little boy who was told he was too small and weak to play in the BMX park with the big boys.’

‘Reuben, I’m sure you were a great BMX rider,’ Lizzy said desperately. ‘You just have to move on from that, er, bike and upgrade to a racer.’

‘But
how
?
How
do I get to that racer, Lizzy?’ Reuben turned to her imploringly. Once again her breath was taken away by how good-looking he was.

‘Sorry, there I am going on about myself again.’ He sighed heavily. ‘Do you want to eat?’

What Lizzy actually wanted was the number for the nearest taxi firm, but she couldn’t leave him like this. ‘Sounds great! What are we having?’

Apparently Reuben had been planning to do a three-course meal, but he hadn’t been able to cope with a major supermarket, so they ended up having filled pasta from the local Whistlestop.

‘I think it’s past the sell-by date.’ He prodded a flabby, overcooked piece with his fork. ‘God, this is awful. I’m so awful.’ He put his head in his hands again.

Lizzy gazed at the beautiful dejected heap slumped across the table from her. It was like looking at a Michelangelo painting that had been left out in the rain.

She poured herself more wine and gazed at the TV, which had been left on in the background with the sound off. The ITN news had just come on. Oh God, was it only ten o’clock? She was exhausted. But seconds later she was wide awake. Elliot Anderson had suddenly appeared on the screen, a picture of a euro note in the background. Elliot was in a dark suit and looking very serious as he talked to the newsreader Mark Austin.

‘My ex had a thing about that Anderson guy.’ Reuben was gazing at the TV gloomily. ‘I bet
he
doesn’t have problems with self-actualization.’

The next moment Lizzy was taken aback as he sprang round the table and scooped her up in his arms.

‘Oh Lizzy!’ He started snogging her passionately.

She’d been halfway through a mouthful of pasta. ‘Sorry!’ she mumbled. ‘I think you might have got a bit of my ricotta.’

‘Will you take me to bed?’ he whispered. ‘I just want someone to hold me.’

Sex was a disaster. There was a lot of awkward bashing of limbs and nothing seemed to fit together or go where it was meant to. At times Lizzy felt like they were playing a particularly invasive game of Twister.
I am having sex with a beautiful man
, she kept repeating to herself like a mantra.

After fifteen minutes of unsuccessful prodding and poking Reuben flopped down beside her. ‘I’m sorry. I’m such a failure.’

‘You’ve got nothing to be sorry about. Honestly.’

‘It’s my penis, isn’t it? I’ve always hated it.’

‘Of course not,’ Lizzy said desperately. ‘You’ve got a perfectly normal-sized penis.’

‘You’re saying it’s not big enough? That I can’t satisfy you? Oh God!’ He rolled over into the fetal position and Lizzy watched in horror as he started hitting himself on the shaft of his willy. ‘Stupid thing!’
Thwack.
‘Why don’t you ever work properly?’

‘Reuben!’ She winced. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Just leave me alone!’ There was another
thwack.

Lizzy took the chance to grab her clothes and escape into the bathroom. She called Nic.

‘I felt so sorry for him that I had sex with him! Now he’s freaking out and beating up his own bell-end!’

Nic’s voice brokered no discussion. ‘This is a code-red situation! Get out of there!’

‘I can’t leave him when he’s in this state!’

‘Yes, you can. Tell him you’ve got an early appointment at the STD clinic.’

‘OK, I’ll try and think of something! I’ll call you back.’

When she went back into the bedroom Reuben was sitting on the end of the bed in his boxer shorts. ‘Who were you on the phone to?’ he asked. ‘You were telling your friends how awful I was, weren’t you?’

‘No!’ she lied. ‘Of course not!’

He put his head in his hands and stifled a sob. ‘Oh God. I’m just so lonely. I miss her
so much
.’

Lizzy finally managed to extricate herself on the pretext of a sudden family emergency. The next day Reuben kept messaging to ask if she wanted to go over and get a takeaway and watch telly with him. Lizzy lay on the couch watching back-to-back episodes of
Murder, She Wrote
trying to block out the whole ordeal.

By 7 p.m. on Saturday, when she hadn’t responded to his last three messages, his tone started to turn nasty.

You’re obviously one of those girls who takes what she wants and leaves. I’m just glad I found out early.

At 9 p.m. another message came through.

You left your Elle Macpherson Intimates Dentelle thong here. I wonder how much Headbutt Girl’s knickers would get on eBay?

I don’t own any Elle Macpherson underwear
, Lizzy wrote back.

There was a one-minute silence, then:
Sorry. It must be someone else’s.

Messages continued to arrive throughout the evening and into the next day. They ranged from Reuben apologizing for the size of his manhood, to him asking Lizzy if she fancied coming over and reading the Sunday papers with him. At three thirty she received one that made her blood run cold.

I filmed us having sex. If u keep ignoring me I’ll put it up on YouTube. PS Antiques Roadshow – fan or not??? Xx

Poppet was at her parents’ and wasn’t picking up. In a blind panic Lizzy called Nic.

‘Oh God, I shagged a complete psychopath!’

‘Don’t be stupid, Lizzy. Why would he put a video up of him being shit in bed?’ Nic was in the middle of packing for a work trip to Beijing.

‘I’m really worried!’ Lizzy wailed. ‘Should I call the police or something?’

‘Don’t do that. I’ll be over in twenty minutes.’

Nineteen minutes later a cab screeched up. Nic was inside with her executive Samsonite suitcase.

‘We’re making a quick detour,’ she told the cabbie, as Lizzy got in.

‘What if he turns violent?’ Lizzy said. ‘I still think we should call the police!’

Nic looked dark. ‘I’m worse than the police.’

Ten minutes later they were pulling up outside Reuben’s. Lizzy watched from the back seat as Nic marched up the front path in the black M&S tracksuit she always flew in. She banged on the door and Reuben opened it a few moments later looking a bit confused. Lizzy couldn’t hear what was being said but she saw Nic clench her fist and smash it into her other palm. Reuben went white and took a step back.

‘What did you say to him?’ Lizzy gasped when Nic got back in.

‘It was more what I said I’d do to him. Let’s just say the Dick-Hitter won’t be bothering you again.’ She checked her watch. ‘Check-in closes in forty minutes. OK if we drop you at a bus stop on the way?’

After the Reuben drama Lizzy was in need of some serious R & R, so she headed back to her parents’ for the weekend. Her mother had wanted to know all about the date, but Lizzy had fobbed her off with something about there being no chemistry and escaped to sunbathe in the back garden.

It was a heavenly day in the London Borough of Bromley. Smells and sounds of neighbouring barbecues wafted lazily through the air. Lizzy lay back on the sunlounger and looked down at her belly. She definitely wouldn’t be posting a selfie like Hayley-bloody-Bidwell who, according to her most recent Facebook status, was on Brighton beach at this very moment. Her smug hashtags read like a novel
: #suntanning #sun #tanning #suntan #bikini #saynotoicecream #lovinglife #loving #my #life #beach #Brighton #flatstomach #abs #toned #sixpack
.

Hayley was very proud of her flat stomach. She never failed to remind Lizzy that she worked hard for it, going to the gym four times a week and avoiding carbs Monday to Friday. In the summer she could still get away with wearing crop tops, and throughout December and January she wore bodycon dresses and things with belts as if to remind everyone of her amazing self-restraint. Lauren swore she’d once seen Hayley get full up on two Manzanilla olives.