Rory's Proposal (17 page)

‘I hate them. Sheep-shagging good for nothing bloody Welsh men.’

‘Flo, I’m really sorry. I promise it will be okay. It isn’t what you think. I really like you …’

‘You’ve a funny way of showing it, and I hope Luke beats you to a pulp.’

‘You don’t mean that.’

‘I do. Why didn’t you tell me? You had so many opportunities? You have everything. All I have is my salon. I won’t let you take it from me.’

He sighs heavily.

‘I tried to tell you several times. I didn’t want you to hate me. The more I grew to like you the harder it became.’

‘Well I do hate you and you can pay for my hotel room as well, you lying git. After the perfume and chocolates didn’t work you thought you’d try extreme measures did you?’

‘That’s not true.’

‘Not much.’

‘Of course I’ll pay for the room. I was going to offer anyway. Anything you need Flo …’

‘Stop calling me Flo,’ I say loudly.

‘About your salon, why don’t we meet and discuss it? I can offer you a site just say where you want it?’

‘I don’t believe it, you’re still trying. And I have a good site and …’

‘Flo …’

‘Don’t call me Flo, not ever again. Do you understand? I never want to see you again and I’m not letting you have the salon. This is war, do you understand. I’m going to ruin you,’ I say, letting the tears flow freely.

Just hearing his voice has made me realise just how strong my feelings are for him and he has let me down so badly. How could I have been so stupid? I hate men. If I hadn’t have been so desperate to get engaged in the first place I wouldn’t bloody be here. Bugger Luke as well. Why didn’t he just ask me like Mark asked Devon?

‘You’ll be isolated if you stay there. I can offer you a nice salon somewhere else we can look at sites together.’

I scoff.

‘I’m not going anywhere with you, ever. You made me think you liked me and …’

‘I do like you Flo,’ he says softly, ‘more than you know. I thought the feeling was mutual.’

The tears fall like rain down my cheeks. Even now he is still lying to me.

‘Well the feelings certainly weren’t mutual. Luke is the only man for me and it looks like you’ve ruined that.’

There is silence at the other end and before he can speak again I say,

‘This is war and there can only be one victor.’

I slam the phone down and burst into tears. I rummage through the mini bar, hiccupping and cursing. I pull out a miniature bottle of vodka and a bar of chocolate. I down
the contents of the bottle before hitting Luke’s number on my mobile.

‘Flora, I was going to phone you in a bit. I’m in the semi-final today. If I get through this I may well be playing against your Mr Rory.’

Yes, well not quite my Mr Rory but any Rory deserves a thrashing as far as I am concerned. Just the sound of his voice makes me feel a bit better. At least he isn’t sounding cross.

‘I thought I’d better phone,’ I say nervously.

‘Are you feeling better today? Were you able to get to the salon, or were you too hungover?’

He doesn’t know I’m in Dublin, oh thank God. He hasn’t seen the papers. All I have to do is make sure he doesn’t and then maybe, just maybe, I can salvage this mess.

‘I’m not at the salon, Luke. I’m in Dublin.’

‘Dublin,’ he says incredulously. ‘What are you doing in Dublin? I thought we agreed you were going to stay at home.’

No, you agreed I’d stay at home.

‘I’m in the semis; I can’t have any distractions Flora.’

Christ, let’s hope he doesn’t see the newspapers then.

‘It’s nice you’re here but I just don’t have the time. What about the salon …?’

‘The thing is Luke I need to see you …’

He sighs.

‘You can see me afterwards. Why on earth did you come to Dublin anyway? I don’t even know if I can get you a ticket to the match ball, it’s a bit last minute.’

‘It’s okay. You just focus on the game, but I do need to see you.’

‘It’s not a good time Flora I need to get psyched up for the match.’

I give up.

‘Okay, I’ll come and see you after the match,’ I say resignedly. ‘We can have dinner.’

‘Where are you staying, it’s nowhere expensive is it?’

‘I got a special deal,’ I say.

Well, that’s not a lie is it?

Tom

‘I see congratulations are in order,’ says Grant cynically. ‘Do you want me to get our solicitors onto it?’

‘No, it will only make things worse. Just let it die a natural death. If anyone asks for a comment say we were just friends celebrating a birthday. There was no engagement.’

‘I know you always say do what it takes to get the contract but wasn’t that a bit extreme? There was you making me feel dinner was out of order,’ he says, a note of anger in his voice.

‘Just soften things where you can without drawing attention to it, okay,’ I snap.

‘You mean smooth over your cock-up.’

I sigh.

‘Whatever. Phone The Clarence and cover all her bills. I don’t want her paying for anything.’

‘You want us to cover everything? Are you sure that’s …’

‘Just do it Grant, and send some roses, no second thoughts I’ll send them.’

‘I wouldn’t send roses. We looked into her flowers remember and she hates roses because of the thorns and she’s allergic to them apparently.’

In spite of everything I find myself smiling. Only Flo could be picky about flowers.

‘Are you sure she’s worth bothering with? If you ask me she’s trouble,’ says Grant.

‘I didn’t ask you.’

I hang up feeling the anger build within me. I’ll murder that little bugger Gareth. I punch his number into my phone and wait.

‘Hey boyo, congratulations,’ he laughs.

‘What the hell are you playing at?’

‘I’ve waited ten years to pay you back for that prank you played on me in Cambridge. Come on, man, you can’t dish it out and not take it.’

I sigh.

‘Yeah right, the thing is she’s a nice girl Gareth …’

‘It’s a bit of fun, get over it. It will be tomorrow’s fish and chip paper. Forget it. Great night though, you have to admit and she is a bit of awright.’

She’s more than all right.

‘I’ll get you back.’

‘I look forward to it boyo.’

I hang up and lean
back on the couch. Idiot, I was a total idiot. I should have told her earlier. My phone rings again and I pick it up tiredly.

‘So, when were you going to tell your father you were here, and more importantly when were you going to tell your parents about your impending wedding?’

‘When there is an impending wedding. Believe me, you’ll be the first to know and when did you start believing the newspapers?’

‘It’s not about me believing them son it’s the rest of the country. A hairdresser? Is that really your type?’

‘You have no idea what my type is.’

‘Your mother’s asking if you’re free to have dinner with us this evening. It’s the final tomorrow. I reckon I’ll be up against a solicitor, Luke Wright. He’s good.’

‘So I hear. Yes, I’ll see you tonight, where are you eating?’

‘Patrick Guilabaud, we’re booked for eight.’

‘I’ll see you there.’

I click off the phone and pick up the paper. She looks beautiful. Her eyes are sparkling and her cheeks are flushed. She looks happy. Why won’t she talk to me? We had some good times on the train to Dublin. How can she think they weren’t real? The kiss was real. I felt her breasts straining towards me, her tongue meeting mine. I push it from my mind and sigh. I was stupid, blinded by my feelings for her. Well, it’s over now and just as well. A woman in my life always causes problems and this is no exception. She’s right, I should have told her. I had plenty of opportunities. I behaved badly. Damn papers.
Rag to riches
, what’s wrong with these people? What they don’t know is that I’m the one who found the riches in her. I can’t believe she wants to marry that
up his own arse prick,
Luke Wright. He obviously has a lot more to offer than I have. I’d like to know what that is. I pick up the phone and call reception.

‘Can you order me a hire car please? I’ll need it in the next twenty minutes. Can I also order some flowers to be sent to The Clarence? I’d like a large bouquet but make sure there are no roses in it. Thank you … no, I’ll come down and write the card myself.’

I grab my jacket and check my watch. Forty-five minutes before my meeting. If Wright wins the final tomorrow that will be the ultimate kick in the teeth for me. I wonder if Flo has seen him yet. After all, that’s why she came wasn’t it? I could shake her. She deserves better, much better. I curse and pick up my wallet. For the first time in my life I really don’t want to be Thomas Rory.

I slide my BlackBerry from under the pillow and see there are twenty-seven text messages. I’ve never had twenty-seven text messages in my life. Well, obviously I have, but not all together. Oh dear, how do I tell my mother that I’m not engaged to one of the richest men in England? She’ll be gutted. She’s probably already organised the street party. I drop the phone into my handbag and check my reflection. My face is still a bit blotchy from crying. So much for Touche éclat, well overrated if you ask me. I walk to the door, throwing the bouquet into the bin as I do so. Honestly, that man, he thinks he can buy anyone. I’m totally exhausted and frankly I’ve had it with men. I blame myself of course. This is punishment for wanting to be engaged on my birthday. With a bit of luck I’ll get blown up before I see Luke; after all, if you can’t get blown up in Ireland, where can you?

‘Good evening madam, your taxi is waiting.’

I step outside and yank the thong out of the crack in my arse. Trust me to put the things on back to front. I climb into the cab carefully to prevent them rising up again.

‘Where to?’ asks the driver.

‘The best place to get blown up or shot please. I’m not bothered which as long as it’s over quickly.’

‘I’ll just drive the cab off a bridge shall I? It’ll cost you a bit more of course. Funeral expenses for the missus, and childcare for the kids, you know tat kind of ting. It will be a shite day for them, know what I mean?’

‘I didn’t ask you to join me,’ I say stiffly. ‘Just take me where it all happens.’

‘Where it all happens?’ he repeats.

‘Yes, please.’

‘You’re at least a decade too late, we don’t blow people up like we used to, and it will be the north of Ireland you’ll be wanting.’

‘That’s a bit inconsiderate isn’t it?’

‘It’s called the peace process. I guess they didn’t take people like you into account. Believe it or not most of us are quite happy with the arrangements. It’s the eejits that aren’t.’

‘Well, that’s no good to me,’ I say, trawling through my messages.

‘You’ll need to go to the States if it’s a blowing up you want. Of course you could just go to Afghanistan; they do a lot of blowing up there. That’s a shite place if ever there was one. You’ll have to check with your travel agent. I’m sure they know the best places to get blown up. Then again you could just walk under a bus. Although why the feck you want to do it at all is beyond me. A pint or two of Gat is what you’ll be needing.’

‘Is that some kind of poison?’

‘I’ve heard it called some things but poison; now there’s a new one. A pint of Gat, you know, Guinness is what yourself needs.’

Not with my hangover thank you very much. I sigh and punch in Devon’s number.

‘You’d better take me to the Deer Park golf course then please.’

‘That’s plan B is it? Hoping to get whacked on the head with a golf ball are you? Is it just yourself you’ll be wanting dead.’

‘Why, do you know a hit man?’

‘You’re quite the comedienne aren’t you?’

I ignore him and wait for Devon to answer.

‘About bloody time, I know you’re a celebrity now and all that but bloody hell Flo. You got engaged then. I hate to tell you but it’s to the wrong man. And don’t tell me it was mistaken identity because even I can tell them apart.’

‘Please don’t nag me. You’ve no idea what kind of a day I’ve had.’

‘You got engaged to a multimillionaire so it sounds like your day was a hell of a lot better than mine.’

‘It’s not what it seems. One minute I was having a drink, well a few drinks and the next I’m engaged to a multimillionaire.’

‘I can see why you want to kill yourself,’ mumbles the cab driver. ‘I meself would be wanting to do the same if I got engaged to a multimillionairess, to be sure I would.’

‘He deceived me Devon. He’s a lying no good …’

‘Where are you now?’ asks Devon.

‘On my way to see Luke, to explain everything, God knows how that will go down.’

‘He won the semi so I imagine he is in a good mood. Good luck.’

I have the ring in my bag. The proposal speech in my head and I’m wearing the sexiest dress I own. Bearing in mind the dress is sexy but whether I look sexy in it is another matter. I very much doubt it considering I have a thong disappearing up my arse and a dress that is so full of static that it feels more like the height of fashion torture. Luke opens the door and it is immediately apparent to me that he isn’t the man I want to spend the rest of my life with after all.

‘I can’t believe you’re here,’ he says.

Neither can I.

‘Luke …’ I begin.

He pulls me into the room and I gasp. Talk about plush. It’s everything he is always telling me we don’t need. To think he had the cheek to ask me if my hotel was expensive.

‘Oh, it’s on the business,’ he says, seeing the look on my face. ‘You know, I had the conference.’

I look around. I don’t believe it. It’s a suite. This is the man who tells me we don’t need this kind of comfort on weekend breaks and holidays and yet somehow he needs it on a golfing break. Ooh I am seeing red in more ways than one. I fumble with the thong irritably.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asks, pouring water into two glasses. Oh yes, let’s get pissed on the best water the hotel can offer shall we?

‘My thong is stuck,’ I say.

If only a stuck thong were the worst of my problems, what a happy woman I would be.

‘Shall I help unstick it,’ he says huskily, stepping towards me.

Oh good grief, not now.

‘God, I’ve missed you Flo. Why don’t we have a cuddle?’

I sigh. Why does he have to call it a cuddle? We’re not sodding twelve.

‘I’m so high after winning. I’ll thrash your Mr Rory tomorrow and …’

Crikey for a moment I thought he was going to say he’ll thrash
me
. I almost got excited.

‘He’s not my Mr Rory,’ I say, stepping back and pulling a newspaper from my handbag. ‘That’s my Mr Rory. You’re playing against his dad. I came with Thomas Rory to Dublin, you remember, he offered us train tickets? A tree fell on the
track and we went out to eat and …’

His eyes bulge
out of their sockets.

‘Cut to the chase Flora,’ he says angrily.

‘We went out with some friends of his and I got drunk and these pictures got taken and one of the friends gave the press the story that we were engaged. I didn’t even know he was Thomas Rory. I hate the guy, he’s trying to take my salon and …’

‘Everyone at the office will have seen it …’

‘I’m so sorry Luke,’ I say, moving towards him.

He jumps back like he’s had an electric shock. Mind you, the way my dress is giving them out he probably did.

‘The conniving little creep, this is all to get your salon isn’t it?’

‘Well,’ I begin.

‘He’s not interested in you that’s for sure. Someone with his money and stature wouldn’t bother with a poxy little hairdresser. He’s gone too far. We can use this against him. I’m not having him make a fool out of me,’ he says angrily, reaching for the phone.

I see. It’s okay to make a fool out of me. It’s okay to try and get my salon. Luke wasn’t in the least interested then was he? But now he feels humiliated it’s a whole other ball game. And what does he mean Thomas Rory wouldn’t be interested in a
poxy little hairdresser
?

‘Luke, what are you doing?’

‘I’m phoning Mitchell at the office, get him to deny the story on your behalf and to say this is a ploy of Thomas Rory’s to blackmail you into selling the salon …’

‘But Luke, it wasn’t like that. It’s best to leave it, let the story die a natural death.’

He slams the phone down.

‘What was it like then? I’m not having people think my girlfriend was so drunk she didn’t know what she was doing. They must have spiked your drinks.’

The thing is I
was
so drunk that I didn’t know what I was doing.

‘We were just having a good time,’ I say and regret it immediately.

‘You were having a good time with Thomas Rory?’

‘I didn’t know it
was
Thomas Rory,’ I say.

‘What you’re saying is you’ll have a good time with any man as long as it isn’t Thomas Rory?’

I didn’t say that did I?

‘Of course not, and that’s a silly thing to say Luke. It wasn’t like that.’

‘I don’t know why you came here anyway,’ he says angrily, rummaging through the mini bar and producing a bottle of vodka.

‘To propose to you on my birthday if you must know. I thought it would be nice,’ I say tearfully, pulling so hard at the thong that I hear it rip. Bugger and sod it. ‘Tom offered me a way to get here but let’s face it, who wants to be engaged to a poxy hairdresser right? Oh, and you can forget the ball because I won’t be here. I’m going home first thing.’

I grab my bag and walk to the door.

‘Flora,’ he says sharply.

I turn quickly and get an electric shock from my underskirt.

‘Where are you staying?’

Oh bugger.

‘Don’t worry Tom Rory is paying for it. It’s his way of apologising.’

His face seems to turn blue. Oh no, he’s not having some kind of convulsion before the final is he? I’ll be in the bloody papers again at this rate:
Poxy hairdresser kills soon-to-be-fiancé after turd round …

‘Luke are you okay?’ I ask anxiously.

‘No fiancée of mine stays in any other hotel but this one.’

‘What?’ I gasp.

How ironic is this? I come all the way to Dublin to propose to my boyfriend on my thirtieth birthday only to realise he isn’t Mr Right. Okay, I know he is
Mr Wright
but you know what I mean, and then he turns around and proposes to me.

‘Luke …’

‘Flora, will you marry me?’

Bloody sod’s law isn’t it?