Monday to Friday Man (21 page)

‘What did Sarah do all day?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘But you didn’t, you know, did you?’ I find myself asking again.

‘No.’

‘What happened?’

‘It was awful. She fled into the house, I didn’t see her for the rest of the week, until I produced my bill.’

And at that point Guy picks up the bill and pays Manuel. I smile, remembering Harvey with his calculator.

‘So, how about you?’ Guy asks, as we walk back to the shop. ‘What have you been up to?’

‘Me?’ I’m not sure where to start.

‘You look well,’ Guy continues. ‘Thinner. Have you lost weight?’

‘I’ve been going to the gym again.’

‘Well, you look great on it – not that you didn’t look good before,’ he quickly adds. ‘Have you been writing?’

‘A little,’ I lie.

‘And Jack? How was your date?’

I attempt to open the shop door, but find it’s locked. Mari must have gone out for something. ‘That feels like years ago,’ I say, rummaging in my handbag for the keys. Keys are like mobiles. I’m sure they hide on purpose too. Finally I unlock the door.

‘I know. I feel like I’ve been away for ages,’ Guy says as I lead him inside. ‘Anyway, come on, was it good fun?’

I nod. ‘We’ve been going out,’ I tell him.

‘Out? What
out
out?’

‘Sort of. Yes.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, really.’ I tell Guy about our recent evenings together.

Guy listens, but can’t help mentioning that Gordon Ramsay is a slightly obvious choice. It’s no doubt a good restaurant, he says, but he loves this run-down lobster joint in Islington, owned by a French family. He takes off his hat, runs a hand through his hair.

‘I’ve always wanted to go to Gordon Ramsay’s though,’ I claim, not liking the defensive tone in my voice.

‘I’m sure it’s good,’ Guy says. ‘I’ve never been.’

When I tell him about Annabel’s, he’s quick to point out that he’s relieved his clubbing days are over.

‘Oh don’t be so old, Guy, and boring!’

‘You’re right. Mustn’t get my pipe and slippers out too soon.’

I make Guy a cup of coffee; he seems in no hurry to leave and I don’t want him to. We talk about the dogs; he tells me how much he’s missed Trouble. I tell him that I’m having great fun with Jack. I fill him in on our dog-walking circle. Mari was furious because she had been fined for driving at thirty-seven miles per hour along a Cornish lane. Ariel has split up with Gareth again. I tell him that I’m also enjoying working in the shop and just sold a chandelier to Gywneth Paltrow’s interior decorator…

‘Are you serious about Jack?’ he asks. ‘Or is it just a fling?’

‘Have you been listening to a word I’ve been saying?’

‘Yes,’ he nods, ‘but I want to hear more about Jack.’

‘I don’t know, Guy. Maybe.’ I hesitate whether to tell him about my encounter with Jack’s brother last night.

‘Do you want it to be more?’

‘I don’t know.’ I smile. ‘Why do you care so much?’

‘Why do I care?’ He looks at me. ‘Well, I just want some gossip because my own life is so boring.’

I tell him about Alexander, then immediately wish I hadn’t.

‘Victim? That’s a strong word, isn’t it?’

‘Oh, Guy, I think it was a jokey thing. I’m having a great time. You haven’t shaved since I last saw you.’

‘You’re changing the subject.’

‘I’m not going to worry about it,’ I say. ‘Alexander did look like a stuffed shirt too. He’s nothing like Jack.’

‘Perhaps, but just be careful, Gilly.’

‘Careful? Only recently you were telling me not to think about things too much, that I over-analyse everything!’

‘I know. But I’m not sure about Jack and this brother,’ he admits. ‘I always thought you should have found out a lot more about him before he moved in.’

33

It’s early Friday morning. ‘Can’t you stay this weekend?’ I ask Jack as I lie in bed watching him pack. ‘I’ve hardly seen you all week.’ I reach out to grab his arm, pull him towards me and kiss him, one hand stroking the back of his neck. ‘Don’t go tonight. We could have a lie-in tomorrow,’ I say slowly, ‘I could make us breakfast, we could stay in bed all day.’

‘Oh, Gilly,’ he says, in a tone which suggests no, but his lips remain close to mine, and we kiss again. I run a hand through his soft hair and he murmurs in approval.

‘We could do nothing but this, Jack, all weekend.’

‘I’d love to,’ he says, before pulling away, ‘but I can’t, honey.’ I sit up and bring my knees to my chest, watching as Jack opens his wardrobe. He takes out his jeans and a couple of tops, flings them into his leather suitcase.

‘Why?’ I ask. ‘Have you got plans?’

‘Yep,’ he says, refusing to allow me entry into his life at the weekend.

‘What are you up to?’ I could kill Alexander … and Guy for making me question Jack.

‘I’ve got stuff on, Gilly.’

What the hell does ‘stuff’ mean? If I’m not careful I shall ruin this relationship, stamp it to death with my suspicion. Is that what I want? I don’t like the way Jack makes me feel insecure, when he’s always so cool and composed. What’s going on behind the mask? He gives nothing away. If only Jack wasn’t so mysterious, then I wouldn’t have to ask these questions, would I?

‘Stuff?’ I ask, trying to sound casual as I play with the corner of the duvet cover.

‘Just a few things I have to do. I need the weekends to be at home, catch up.’

That is reasonable, I say to myself. Instead I work up to suggesting, ‘Why don’t I come to Bath on Sunday then, just for the day?’

‘No.’ He registers he said that too fiercely. ‘I mean, no, it’s not the best time.’

‘We could go out for lunch…’

He squashes my ideas with, ‘It’s the busiest time for the show. I need to keep my head down, and I won’t if you’re around,’ he adds with a smile. ‘Right.’ He zips up the conversation as well as his suitcase. Ask him about his brother, Gilly. Go on. Ask him.

‘Jack, why don’t you ever talk about your brother?’

‘We don’t get on, that’s why.’

‘Guy says…’

He rolls his eyes as if he hasn’t got time to hear what Guy says again, before glancing at his watch. ‘I need to shoot.’ He kisses me on the lips before rushing out of the room with his suitcase. ‘Have a great weekend,’ he calls.

‘You too! Whatever you’re up to,’ I mutter to myself as I get out of bed and slip on my dressing gown.

He’s back again. ‘Shit, left my …’ He grabs his BlackBerry from the bedside table. He must notice my back turned towards him because next thing I know, a pair of arms are wrapped round my waist. I try to pull away but he doesn’t let me. ‘Aren’t you sick of me by the weekend?’ he asks, holding me tightly. Then he brushes a strand of hair away from my face and kisses my neck. His touch feels warm.

‘No, I like having you around. Just stay tonight,’ I say again, turning towards him.

‘I wish I could, but I really do have to work, Gilly. I’ve got to finish a whole script by Monday.’

I nod, reluctantly.

‘We’re OK?’ he asks, lifting my chin.

I nod. ‘Go.’

He’s off.

‘Oh, hang on!’ I call him back.

He sticks his head round the door. ‘What? Quick!’

‘You’re coming to my birthday party next week, aren’t you?’

If Jack lets me down I’ll have to explain this to Nancy and, besides, I want to show him off to my nieces. Hannah and Tilda have been allowed to stay up extra late, just to say Happy Birthday to me, and I know they are longing to meet Auntie Gilly’s boyfriend, the handsome Jack.

‘I’ll be there,’ he promises. ‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Now can I go?’

I smile. ‘Go.’

‘See you Monday!’ he calls as he rushes downstairs.

I hear the front door slam and Ruskin bark.

34

Thirty-five today. Happy birthday to me, I sing in the shower.

My birthday morning starts well with a visit from the Interflora man. Quickly I open the small white envelope tucked into the flowers, praying they’re not from Aunt Pearl, Dad, Gloria, Nick or Nancy.

They’re from Jack, signed,

With lots of love.
ps You’re hot for thirty-five.

I smile at that part, realizing that I’ve got to relax about Jack and the weekends. I’m not ready for us to be over, not yet, and especially not as I turn thirty-five. That would be adding insult to the injury.

In the post is a card from my father, enclosing a cheque. There are cards from all my friends, including the Digbys up north and the Heron clan in the Hebrides, and Helen my nursing friend from Middle Wallop in Hampshire, who signs it from all the family including the dogs and the chickens. Hannah and Matilda have both made me cards. Hannah has painted a picture of the sea with colourful fish and inside she has written, ‘Have a fishy fun birday’. Matilda has painted a heart and in the middle she’s written, ‘Happie birfday’.

Mum sends a package from Australia. Inside are book tokens, perfume and some old black-and-white Audrey Hepburn movies, which she knows are my favourites. In her card she asks me to visit her again.

My dog friends and I congregate under the oak tree, wrapped in thick coats, scarves and hats. I open their cards.

‘If any of you tell me I’m over the hill, or …’

‘Losing your marbles,’ suggests Walter.

Thankfully none of them do. The cards mostly have dogs on the front, surprise surprise.

‘Happy birthday,’ says Sam, giving me a small white box. Inside is a chocolate cupcake with creamy icing and one single candle in the middle.

Sam lights the cake with Mari’s cigarette lighter and they all sing Happy Birthday, telling me to make a wish.

I wish for everything to go smoothly at Nancy’s tonight.

Guy and I part at the zebra crossing. ‘You’ve got the address for this evening?’ I call after him.

He nods. ‘I’ll see you later.’

‘Oh, and Guy—’

He turns, walks back to me. ‘Why have you got your worry face on?’

I press my lips together. ‘I’m not worried, not at all, but…’

‘Um?’

‘You won’t mention anything to Jack about his brother, will you?’

‘I promise to behave,’ he says reassuringly with a salute. ‘I’ll put on my best hat.’

Great. I smile as I walk to work.

I’m glad Nancy suggested a party. She’s right. Nick and I should celebrate, not hide under our duvet covers. I think about everyone meeting Jack this evening.

I’m looking forward to it.

35

Nick opens the door, looking handsome in dark trousers, polished shoes and a soft blue jumper like the ones our father wears. ‘Happy birthday, twinnie,’ he says, hugging me. Hannah and Matilda race down the hallway in their fluffy pyjamas and slippers. ‘Auntie Gilly!’ Tilda cries out. I crouch down and she throws her arms around my neck. ‘Happy birfday!’

‘Remember,’ Nick reminds me as I hug the girls, ‘I was born twenty minutes before you.’

As I approach the kitchen, the children clinging onto me and demanding I open their presents right now, I hear the sound of corks popping. Nick whispers into my ear that Nancy’s tipsy already. When I enter the room she thrusts a glass of champagne into my hand and surveys me in my raspberry-pink suede miniskirt that we bought together on our shopping trip. ‘Perfect!’ she proclaims before hustling me out and into the sitting room. ‘You didn’t mind me asking Guy last minute?’ I say breathlessly.

‘No! I’ve cooked an enormous paella, so the more the merrier!’

The sitting room is a shrine to Nick and me, with glittery 35 TODAY! banners hung from the ceiling and delicious-looking canapés on the coffee table. ‘No more crisps, Tilda,’ Nancy says, swiping the bowl from her. ‘Where’s Jack, Auntie Gilly?’ Tilda asks impatiently.

Anna and Paul are the first to arrive. Nick hasn’t asked his friends this evening because he’s having a separate party, also organized by his wife – lots of his work colleagues, of course. Besides, there wasn’t space around the table to invite everyone. Nick offers drinks and turns on some music. Hannah and Tilda hand round bowls of crisps and olives. Anna hands me a present. Oh! This is such fun, I tell her and Paul, saying I love presents more than food. As I’m about to open my gift, Nancy confiscates it, saying she wants a present-opening session at the end of the evening, after dinner. ‘Is everything all right?’ I whisper to Nick when she’s walked away, noticing he’s quiet.

‘Just another row,’ he whispers. ‘She’s impossible.’

When Mark and Susie arrive, I hear more champagne corks flying from the kitchen. ‘Ugh,’ Hannah says when she tries one of the smoked salmon blinis.

Susie joins me by the fireplace. ‘You look beautiful, Gilly.’ She kisses me on both cheeks. ‘Thirty-five is clearly the new thirty,’ she says as we raise our glasses to each other. ‘I like the look of Paul,’ she adds. ‘Guy’s coming too, isn’t he?’ she then asks casually.

‘He’d better be, I’m dying to meet Hatman,’ Anna says, joining us now.

‘What’s Hatman?’ Tilda asks with excitement, plunging her hand into the bowl of crisps.

‘Guy,’ I tell them.

‘Have you got two boyfriends?’ she asks, surprised.

‘No, he’s my dog-walking friend,’ I tell her.

‘Do you show them both your boobies,’ Tilda asks, jumping up and down in front of me, and everyone laughs. Nancy appears at the sitting-room door, red-faced. ‘You two, bed,’ she instructs.

‘No, Mum! I want to see Jack!’ Tilda begs.

‘Well, behave then.’

Thankfully the doorbell rings and Nancy leaves the sitting room. ‘Jack Baker,’ I overhear. ‘You must be Nancy.’

‘Yes! Come in, come in,’ Nancy says, voice rejuvenated.

‘Quick update,’ Susie insists, and Anna leans in towards me.

‘Great,’ I whisper.

Nancy leads Jack into the sitting room, a room of beiges and whites, tall vases filled with lilies and cream curtains with tiebacks. The girls are silent. They stare at him, until Jack says, ‘Oh! Now you must be—’ He turns to me, hoping I’ll remind him.

‘Hannah and Tilda, this is Jack,’ I say cheerily.

Tilda hides behind my skirt, murmuring, ‘Hello, Jack.’

When he is introduced to Anna I can tell from her face that she also understands what the fuss is all about now. When you first meet Jack fireworks do explode. I have become more immune to his good looks since picking up his boxer shorts and sweaty running pants off the floor, and scooping his teabags out of the sink and into the bin. However, when I introduce him to all my friends and Nick tonight, I do feel proud. If Jack and I weren’t serious, he wouldn’t be here, would he?