My Single Friend (36 page)

‘Yes, we are,’ replies Dave.

‘No. You’re not.’ She smiles through gritted teeth.

We all stare at each other, wondering who’ll speak next.

‘I’m Jasper Paige.’ The Impostor holds out his hand to Dave.

He eyes it suspiciously and doesn’t move. ‘Well, Jasper Paige, I wonder if you could explain something.’

‘Jasper’s my new boss,’ Mum interrupts. She’s still trying to smile but looks in such pain, she could be concealing the early stages of labour.

‘Boss?’ says Dave, screwing up his face. I realize I’m doing the same.

‘Pleased to meet you both.’ Jasper smiles and takes hold of my hand, shaking it with a self-assured grip.

He sits down and the cogs in my brain creak as I work out where I’ve heard the name. Jasper Paige. Jasper Paige. Jasper Pai—

‘These are my kids,’ Mum explains reluctantly.

‘Ahh,’ he says. ‘Well, Carolyn’s going to make a superb office manager for us. It’s wonderful to have someone who feels as passionate as she does about what we do.’

‘What you do?’ echoes Dave.

‘Hotels and restaurants,’ Jasper replies.

Then I remember – and feel my throat constrict. Jasper Paige: entrepreneur extraordinaire and owner of half of the bars, restaurants and hotels in the north-west. He’s famed for spotting shabby buildings and transforming them into places so hip you’d have to sell a kidney to get on the guest list.

Then I remember something else.
He’s gay
.

‘We spent the afternoon at Avalon,’ he continues cheerfully. ‘Your mum joined us for a meeting with the interior designers. She hasn’t officially started yet, but it felt like a good opportunity to get to know the business.’

‘Let me get this straight,’ I say to Mum. ‘You’re going to work at the Paige Group? As . . . as office manager?’

There’s an obvious question: how has she swung this one when her entire career so far has been as a cleaner for the Council’s Planning Department? I know everyone embellishes their CV, but Mum must have gold-plated hers.

‘That’s right,’ Jasper answers for her. ‘Although your mum hasn’t a lot of experience in this field, she’s got all the key skills: she’s a quick thinker, excellent at people management and, above all, she is enthusiastic. My instincts are never wrong. I could see her potential the day we met.’

‘Where
did
you meet?’ asks Dave, uncrossing his arms.

‘Salsa dancing,’ they both reply.

Dave flashes me a look. And if looks could kill . . .

Henry’s at home tonight and it feels strange. Not just because he’s so often at Erin’s place these days, but also because I’m an emotional and physical wreck whenever he’s near. I find myself talking like a Formula One commentator on speed, or barely able to talk at all. I’m filled with longing for him, desperate to reach out and touch his cheek, kiss his lips, feel his arms around me. I’m riddled with jealousy about him and Erin. And shame that I could feel like this about two of my best friends.

This episode has brought out a wicked witch side of me and frankly, I don’t like her. She’s a bitch. And a miserable bitch at that.

Henry wanders into the kitchen and takes out a chicken breast and some vegetables from the fridge as I’m preparing my dinner.

‘That looks . . . appetizing,’ Henry says.

I look at my bowl of breakfast cereal. Only a hundred and thirty-five calories, or two and a half Diet World
nootrients
per portion. I’d feel saintly if I hadn’t devoured seven miniquiches, four king-prawn skewers and six mini-cheesecakes at a lunchtime event.

‘I’m not hungry anyway,’ I lie. Canapés are the western equivalent of Chinese food: they fill you up initially but within three hours you’re ravenous.

‘I’m making a Thai curry. There’s plenty here to share if you want to join me.’

I’m torn between the straightforward option of doing a runner and the more tempting option of staying to gaze into Henry’s eyes and torture myself.

‘Okay. Thanks.’ I abandon my cereal. I never did have any willpower.

‘How’s your week been?’ he asks, starting to chop a pepper.

‘Oh, don’t ask,’ I sigh.

‘Is Andy Smith bothering you again?’

‘He’s the least of my worries. I thought my mother was having an affair.’

Henry’s eyes nearly pop out of his head.

‘Don’t worry, she’s not,’ I tell him. ‘The bloke I saw her with was her new boss – her new
gay
boss. She’s barely speaking to me now because, to cut a long story short, I told Dave and he marched into Newz to confront them.’

‘Dave
is
noted for his tact and diplomacy,’ Henry smirks.

‘There’s no need to rub it in.’

Henry and I cook and eat the curry, do the dishes together and continue chatting at the kitchen table afterwards. It strikes me how uncomfortably absent the subject of his new girlfriend is. Eventually I feel obliged to say something.

‘How’s Erin?’ I make sure my expression betrays nothing.

‘She’s great,’ he says, his eyes lighting up.

‘Sooo . . . is it serious between you and her?’

‘Who knows? I’m pretty sure I’m not in love with her.’ I feel like cartwheeling across the kitchen. ‘Not yet anyway – it’s early days.’ I feel like lying on the floor and weeping.

‘There’s no doubt that she’s the closest I’ve come so far.’ There is a flicker of shyness he’s trying to hide. He has no idea how attractive it makes him. ‘I think she’s a wonderful person,’ he adds.

‘She is,’ I agree.

‘And beautiful.’

‘Yes,’ I agree again.

‘She’s also one of the most intelligent people I’ve ever met.’

‘Yes,’ I add, feeling nauseous.

‘That’s not to say kind. Gentle. And, you know, sexy in an understated way.’

‘Understated. Yes.’ I feel like jumping off a cliff. ‘You’re a lucky man,’ I say faintly.

‘So you know, Lucy – things are different now I’m with Erin. I’m seeing her and her alone.’

I try to look approving. ‘Good.’

‘Rachel and all the others were lovely, but there’s no way I’d continue seeing any of them now I’m with Erin. I know you’d never forgive me if I messed a friend of yours around. But you’ve no need to worry: I’m a one-woman man now.’

‘Glad to hear it.’

He nods. ‘But what about you? Anyone taken your fancy recently?’

With adrenalin pumping through my body, I want to grab his shoulders, shake him and shout:
YOU! YOU – HENRY!
YOU
HAVE TAKEN MY FANCY. I ADORE YOU. I CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT YOU. AND I CAN’T KEEP UP THIS CHARADE ANY LONGER!

Instead, I cough nervously. ‘No one special. You know my love-life, Henry. Never simple.’

He reaches over and clutches my hand. It sends a shot of heat through my body.

‘You’ll find someone, Lucy,’ he whispers. ‘Someone handsome and kind. Someone who deserves you.’

I look into his eyes and my heart feels ready to explode.

I’ve already found him. And he hasn’t got a clue.

I know Dominique’s in a bad way because she looks terrible. Usually Dominique looks so far from terrible, only Gisele Bündchen could stand beside her and not be intimidated.

When she turns up at the flat to drop off a document for work, her eyes are bloodshot, her complexion is grey and the bum of her sweatpants is so saggy it looks as though she’s been shoplifting groceries in it.

‘You don’t have to say anything,’ she says, as she hands me the folder. ‘I know I look like shit.’

‘No, you don’t.’ I try to sound convincing. ‘A little more . . .
low key
than usual, but no way do you look like—’

‘Lucy, I look like shit,’ she interrupts. ‘Don’t worry. I can take it.’ She marches through to the living room and plonks herself down on the sofa.

‘Can I get you a cup of tea?’ I ask.

She gives me a speaking look.

‘Okay – wine it is.’ I spin round and head to the kitchen.

When I return, she’s gazing mournfully out of the window and I feel a stab of pity. Dominique is usually so upbeat you’d be forgiven for thinking she brushes her teeth with serotonin every morning. The Justin experience has clearly hit her hard.

‘How are you feeling?’ I ask, handing her a glass.

‘Okay,’ she says, attempting to appear bright.

I gaze at her sceptically.

She shrugs. ‘I feel how I look . . . like shit.’

‘Oh Dominique.’ I walk over and put my arm around her.

‘Why do people go around falling in love if they end up like this?’ she asks dully.

‘It doesn’t always end like this,’ I say gently.

‘Doesn’t it? I’ll take your word for it, because I won’t be trying to find out again. I’m having a break from men.’

This is like having Gordon Ramsay say he’s having a break from swearing.

‘What?’ she says innocently, seeing my face.

‘Nothing. Look, I know it’s easy for me to say, but it’d be terrible if you tarred every man with the same brush as Justin and let one bad experience shape all your future relationships. Why deny yourself because of one bloke?’

She smiles in a sad way.

‘You know, Lucy, one of the things I’ve always admired about you is your unfettered optimism.’

‘Oh dear,’ I groan.

‘I’m serious. All those horrendous experiences you have with blokes – they’ve never put you off, have they?’

I can’t help but laugh. ‘I suppose that is a bit mad.’

‘I think you’ve been around Henry too much. Because he’s the most decent man this side of Mars, you assume they all are. The reality is different.’

I try to keep smiling. Try to pretend this comment hasn’t stung me to the core. For once, Dominique is so wound up in her own issues, I get away with it.

‘Speaking of Henry,’ she continues, ‘I had a long conversation with Erin on the phone yesterday.’

My heart skips a beat. ‘Oh yes?’

She takes a sip of her wine. ‘I reckon she’s fallen for him.’

‘What?’

‘Hook, line and sinker.’

I gulp. ‘Really?’

‘I’m convinced.’ She studies my reaction. ‘Are you surprised?’

I phrase this carefully. ‘I’m not sure I can see them as a couple
long-term
.’ This is wishful thinking. ‘Erin’s still getting over Gary. I can’t help thinking she might be on the rebound.’

‘No way,’ says Dominique, as if this is preposterous. ‘This is the real thing, Lucy. Listening to Erin yesterday, I’m certain of it.’

Dave and I have been summoned to Mum and Dad’s house. Things couldn’t look more serious if we were heading to court on charges of peeing in the magistrate’s front garden.

When I arrive, Dave is in the kitchen with Mum. She is five foot one and has the legs of a bluebird; he’s twelve stone with biceps like Popeye after a spinach smoothie. He looks terrified.

‘It was Lucy’s idea,’ he protests. ‘She said she’d seen you at a hotel with some bloke and
just knew
you were having an affair.’

Mum looks up. ‘Oh, if isn’t Hetty bloody Wainthrop herself.’

‘Sorry, Mum,’ I mutter. There doesn’t seem much point in saying anything else.

‘Sit down,’ she instructs. I obediently find a chair and catch Dave’s eye. He doesn’t look any closer to putting the incident behind him.

‘Can I point out,’ she continues tersely, ‘that this is the first sniff of a good job I’ve had since . . . well, ever.’

‘We know,’ Dave and I mutter.

‘Can I also point out how unhelpful it was for you two to march in and have a go at my new boss?’

‘We know.’

‘And then there’s the fact that Jasper Paige – while charming, attractive and immaculately dressed – is happily married,’ she continues, ‘
to another man
.’

‘I know,’ I say, shamefaced. Dave looks shocked.

‘So what did you think you were doing?’

I bite my lip. Dave looks out of the window.

‘You could have told us,’ I say weakly. ‘About your new job, I mean.’

‘It was only confirmed on Friday.’ Mum crosses her arms. ‘I didn’t want to say anything before then, in case it didn’t come off.’

‘Well, don’t blame me,’ Dave adds. ‘I said you’d never cheat on Dad. Lucy was convinced you were swanning round like Lady Chatterley. This is your dopey daughter’s fault – not mine.’

‘Cheers, Dave. That’s really big of you.’ I know he’s feeling delicate after being dumped by Cheryl, but I’m not going to take this abuse without a fight.

‘Big? You were the one who—’

‘ENOUGH!’ bellows Mum, like Boudicca silencing two insubordinate soldiers. ‘Promise me you will never do anything like that again,’ she adds.