River Deep (29 page)

‘More than me by the sounds of it. Anyway, I’ve never understood what makes men attractive to women. With blokes, right, it’s simple. Big tits, nice round arse, long legs or something like that.’ Maggie wilted imperceptibly; none of her attributes had made it on to the list. ‘With girls, though, it’s all forearms, or hands, or ear lobes or side partings. Totally arbitrary. So when you realise that, it doesn’t really matter what you’re like – if you don’t have the right kind of ear lobes you don’t stand a chance. You sort of give in before you’ve started. It’s terrifying let me tell you. Much better to let a girl make all the moves, and Stella is certainly very good at that.’

Maggie wanted to tell him that, in some cases, with some men, like movie stars, for example, or models and, oh, let’s say slightly geeky special effects guys who liked astronomy, that rule didn’t apply. OK, so with the average guy you had to focus on the one tiny part of them you could be crazy about. But with Pete, the whole package, Maggie realised, was fairly spectacular. Come to think of it, even Christian, who had more than his fare share of parts to be crazy about, didn’t compare to Pete’s one-hundred-per-cent-satisfaction-guaranteed-or-your-money-back handsomeness. As Maggie finished her second beer and ordered another round, a little light bulb came on in her head. She looked at Pete as if for the first time, and finally realised what all the fuss was about. Why Becca never stopped mooning about him, why Sarah had lusted after him, and why, most importantly, Stella kept coming back for him. But Maggie didn’t tell him any of that.

‘Well,’ she said instead, suddenly finding it difficult to look him in the eye, ‘I think Stella’s sort of given you a false image of yourself. I think you’re … great. Actually.’ She shrugged awkwardly and glowered at the barman as she caught him smirking at her. He turned abruptly and began to slice a lemon.

‘Well, if I am,’ Pete said, feeling secretly pleased with himself, ‘then you are too. Christian is mad to let you go. I mean, look at you – you’ve got brains and you’re funny and you’re really pretty …’

‘Pretty?’ Maggie said, sounding a touch needy she thought belatedly.

‘Yeah, why not? Is that not PC down here or something?’ Pete said.

‘No, it’s just, Christian said I was “classy” and “attractive” but never “pretty”.’

Pete rolled his eyes.

‘Well, call me simplistic, but in my book – and it’s a very short one with lots of pictures – a girl is either pretty or not. And you are. Very. Pretty and sexy. It’s not rocket science.’

They held each other’s gaze for a long moment, each following the same dangerous train of thought, imagining themselves in a bar in a parallel universe where Stella and Christian didn’t exist. Maggie tried to shake the memory of the warm touch of Pete’s lips on her neck, and he struggled not to notice the gentle curve of her beasts under the fine material of her top. They both took a long drink.

‘I mean, look at The Fleur,’ Pete said suddenly, perhaps a touch too loudly. ‘You took that on without a second thought. That shows guts. I’ve always admired guts in a woman. Very admirable, guts are. I’ve always thought so.’

Maggie stepped back into the reality of the moment with some difficulty.

‘Oh well, I mean, that was an amazing chance,’ she said. ‘You don’t turn down chances like that, not with everyone relying on you. Besides, I think it will really work. That’s when I’m not thinking it will sink without trace and I’ll lose all Sheila’s money and make the family homeless, that is!’ She smiled at Pete.

‘What about you?’ he said, changing tack again. ‘I mean, you’re lecturing me on Stella, but what about Christian? What if you decided not to go after him tonight and we just turned this into a few innocent beers in a bar instead? Maybe in a couple of months, when you’d stopped rebounding like a ping pong ball on speed, you’d feel ready to find a decent bloke. The sort of bloke who’d appreciate you and respect your independence. Who’d take care of you when you needed it and be proud of you.’

Pete held his breath before he said any more. It occurred to him that the line he had been so determined not to cross only minutes before was now right beneath his feet. It was sort of like when you have a sexy dream about someone you work with or sort of know. The next day you just can’t look at them, and you feel all funny when you see them even if up until then they’ve always repulsed you. Except his dream about Maggie had been a conscious fantasy that had got out of hand, and it was about two million times worse because he found all he wanted to do was to reach out and make it a reality.

‘Mmm,’ Maggie said, contemplating a future without Christian. ‘I wish I could imagine it, you know? But I can’t see past the fact that he’s not there.’ She sighed. ‘What would you do if you decided tonight not to try with Stella any longer? What would you do a couple of months down the line when you’d stopped rebounding?’

Pete wondered what he would do if Stella suddenly disappeared from his life. He’d take a chance and go to Hollywood probably. Really try and turn his career from a dream into a reality. He felt a rush of blood to his head and his mouth ran dry. Oh, and there was one other thing.

‘I’d join the queue of blokes waiting to take you out,’ he said, realising as he completed the sentence that he’d spoken out loud.

It was the wrong time and the wrong circumstances, but never since Stella had Pete felt something so strongly for someone who
wasn’t
Stella. Looking at Maggie was like looking at what the future might be like if only he could pull himself out of his current trajectory – a crash course set for his latest and last reunion with Stella. It was all academic, though. You don’t spend over five years being in love with someone just to throw it away on a short, inexplicably heated acquaintance. After all, he was bound to run into someone else he was attracted to sooner or later – like Maggie said, it was the law of averages – and with Stella so far away her light was much less blinding.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, looking at Maggie at last. ‘I shouldn’t have said that.’

It took Maggie several moments to digest what he had said. He was probably trying to be kind, trying to give her some kind of hope about her future which was rapidly speeding out of control. But he shouldn’t have said it, and he shouldn’t have kissed her neck. It had muddied the waters and now everything was unclear.

‘Well,’ she said robustly, ‘it’s not down to us, is it? It’s down to fate, remember? We couldn’t be free of this even if we wanted to be.’

Pete’s eyes glinted and he reached into his pocket.

‘I know,’ he said, fishing out a tenpence piece. ‘Let’s test the fate theory, shall we? Let’s be a little reckless and flip a coin.’

He held Maggie’s gaze.

‘Heads and I forget about Stella, you forget about Christian and we party hard all night, free as birds. Tomorrow we go off for a couple of months and we rebound all over the shop and then when that’s over and done with we go out together again. On a date. Or we go out on a date tomorrow and sod the whole rebound lark.’

Maggie wondered if Pete was completely serious and felt herself lean a little closer to him, drawn by the magnetism of his recklessness.

‘Tails,’ Pete finished, ‘and we go back to Plan A and try to get back the two people who we have so far maintained are the loves of our lives. Fate decides – agreed?’

Maggie laughed, trying to show him she realised it was just a game, but still shivers of anticipation ran down her spine.

‘Agreed!’ she said.

The barman poured them each a shot of tequila unprompted, pretty certain that they were going to need it one way or another.

Pete balanced the coin on his thumb and flipped it expertly into the air. For a few moments it glittered and shone, caught in the beam of the spotlights that ran above the bar. For a few moments time stood still and the future stretched out before them, empty and clean. Pete caught the coin on the back of his hand and covered it with the other one. Maggie held his gaze, and they both held their breath as Pete uncovered the coin.

They looked down.

‘Tails,’ Pete said, and he felt a shocking sense of disappointment. They were both silent for a moment and then Maggie picked up the shot glass and raised it in a silent toast to Pete before downing it.

‘It just goes to show,’ she said desperately, ‘that we were right all along …’

Pete kept his eyes down as she talked, staring at the coin. Maggie glanced over his shoulder just as Paul walked into the room.

‘Oh look, there’s …’ But she never got to finish her sentence. Before she realised what was happening, Pete’s hand was on her waist pulling her into a standing position and then towards him. He placed his palm on her face and tipped her mouth towards him and kissed her. And kissed her. And kissed her some more.

Maggie swooned into the kiss in an instant, feeling the heat of his lips, the touch of his fingertips cupping her face and the firm grip of his hand on her waist, feeling each sensation minutely and separately, falling into the dark chasm of his embrace completely. His hands didn’t move or try to touch her anywhere else. He just kissed her deeply, sweetly, thoroughly. It was a kiss that knocked seven balls out of Christian’s drunken grope last night.

It was a kiss, Maggie would realise much later, that she had been waiting for all her life.

‘Maggie?’

The pair broke apart at the interruption, torn between being unable to look at each other and not wanting to stop looking.

‘Paul! Hi!’ Maggie flushed from head to foot. ‘How are you?’ she said, feeling the absence of Pete’s touch keenly as he withdrew his hands.

‘Not as well as you, evidently!’ Paul said, nodding at Pete knowingly. ‘Brad, get these two another drink on me, will you?’

Brad nodded eagerly and set up two more tequilas. Tequila seemed to make these two more than a little crazy, but it certainly passed the time. He was quite sorry that the bar had slowly begun to fill and that soon the evening shift would come on, crowding him out of the action.

‘Oh, er, this is Pete,’ Maggie told Paul uncertainly. ‘My, um, friend … Pete, meet Paul.’

The two men nodded at each other.

‘I heard about the split from Christian. He was pretty cut up about it, really worried he’d ruined your life and all that. I said to him he was a fool for letting you go. Anyway, I’ll let him know there’s no worries on that front, shall I?’

Maggie laughed sharply. ‘Yeah!’ she said, for want of anything better to say. Very possibly permanently.

‘OK, well take care, now, my public awaits me!’ Paul said, winking at Maggie as he drifted into the gradually increasing crowd.

Maggie and Pete looked at each other. Actually they both looked at the spot just above the right eyebrow of each other.

‘Bloody hell,’ Maggie said.

‘I know,’ Pete said. ‘Look, I’m sorry, I think the sun and the tequila and the role-playing and all that has gone to my head. I just wanted to see … I just wanted to know what it would be like if the coin had come up heads, that’s all.’

He looked at her, wanting to give her an out from the whole mess and wanting her to just laugh and say who gives a fuck about the flip of a coin and kiss him right back, right now. Instead she looked paralysed with fear.

Maggie’s heart sank. Here she was, only seconds after the most thrilling event of her life, and he was already telling her it was a drunken mistake. The lightning bolt of emotion and passion that had just riveted her to the spot must have been in her head only. For one stupid, splendid moment she had really thought Pete was changing both their lives for ever with his bold move. But in actual fact it seemed like he was just being a tourist, and now he was going home.

‘Oh,’ she said, finally, brightly. ‘Not to worry. I mean, it’s been a funny day and, well, you couldn’t have timed it better! It’s bound to get back to Christian.’ As Maggie said each word she heard them echo all around her, as if she had been emptied of anything living or real.

Brad looked from the crazy woman to the crazy man. Maybe, he thought, I should just bang their heads together and tell them to stop being so fucking stupid and just get it on. But people never listen to barmen, do they? Especially not Australian ones.

There was a long and painful lull in the conversation until eventually Pete stood up and, reaching into his pocket, emptied all of his cash on to the bar in a clatter of coins and notes.

‘Shall we go home then?’ he said at last.

Maggie nodded, and, taking a twenty from her wallet, added to Pete’s pile of cash. She had no idea how much was there – probably more than they needed – but the barman deserved a tip after the floor show they’d put on.

‘Might as well,’ Maggie said.

As what seemed like the rest of the world piled out of Leicester Square underground station and on to the street ready for Saturday night, Maggie and Pete descended into the suffocating heat of the tube. Neither one of them looked at or spoke to the other. Not as they made their way to the train station, not on the short journey back to St Albans. Out of the heat of the capital, at least Maggie felt like she could begin to breathe again. They walked out of the station in silence and stopped, not quite facing each other, uncertain of how to say goodbye. From here they would be going in separate directions.

‘Maggie, look …’ Pete started.

‘You don’t have to say anything.’ Maggie said.

‘No, I do, because I feel like I’ve messed you around and I feel bad about that.’

Pete paused. What he should say now was that she’d shaken his whole belief system to pieces and he needed time to work out how he felt about everything – about Stella, about her. But he couldn’t risk doing that to her, not when the thing might just have been that anomaly he’d been thinking about. She had her life and her own problems to sort out, problems that didn’t include him.

‘I like you, Maggie,’ he said with forced understatement. ‘I think you’re a good person. You deserve better than getting caught up between me and Stella.’ Pete felt his stomach lurch as he spoke. ‘I don’t know what came over me to think I could just sweep away all the years I’ve been with Stella and all the feeling I have for her. To think that those could just disappear in the space of twenty-four hours. I wanted them to disappear, but …’ Pete searched Maggie’s face for any sign that she might have wanted that too, but she seemed reluctant even to look at him. ‘But it’s impossible, just like it’s impossible for you. I thought our stupid plan might work, but it was a bit of a catastrophe really, wasn’t it?’ Pete winced as everything he tried to say came out slightly warped.