The Importance of Being a Bachelor (7 page)

‘Not a clue.’

It was the following Monday evening. Russell was staring blankly at his section of the fridge looking for inspiration when his mobile phone rang. He expected it to be Angie with updates on the latest news that her ex-boyfriend Aaron was finally getting round to moving out of her flat but when he casually looked at the screen, it was all he could do not to drop the phone.

Cassie calling
. That was what the screen was saying.
Cassie calling
. It had been over a month since Russell had heard about her and Luke’s engagement. It had really hurt. Being surrounded by all of his family congratulating the happy couple while inside he felt nothing but rage and self-loathing. Excusing himself straight after the meal under the guise of having a crisis on at work Russell had made his way over to Angie’s and told her everything. ‘This is it, Russ,’ she had said. ‘This is your chance to move on. Cassie’s got her man and she’s gone for good but now you’re free, don’t you see? You can grab your life back and do something really special with it. You have to move on, Russ, you have to.’

Russell agreed wholeheartedly. It was time to move on. It was time to get a life. He had spent too long wanting something that he was never going to have. His brother’s happiness was about to set him free and so he had avoided the Bachelor Sunday lunch in a bid to rid Cassie from his system.

‘Hi, Russ, it’s me.’

Luke tried to regulate his breathing. ‘Hi, Cass, how are you doing?’

‘I’m really good, babe. Work has been a bit of a bind but that’s only to be expected. If work isn’t a bind then it isn’t really work, is it? How about you? I feel like I haven’t seen you in weeks. Where have you been hiding yourself?

‘Oh, you know how it is,’ said Russell. ‘Things have just been a bit mad. I’ve had to work on a couple of Sundays and then Mum was saying that you and Luke were away this Sunday. Did you go anywhere nice?’

‘It was absolutely amazing. Luke booked the two of us into a luxury spa hotel just outside Cheltenham for two whole nights! All we did all weekend was eat, sleep and get massaged.’

Russell swallowed at the mental image of Cassie lying semi-naked on a massage table and tried to blink it out of existence but it wouldn’t budge. It was as though the image was burned on to the inside of his retina.

‘So, is this just sort of a catch-up call? Only if it is, could I call you back some time as I’m sort of running late for a thing.’

‘Oh, I’m so sorry, Russ,’ replied Cassie. ‘There’s me gassing on and making you late.’ She sighed. ‘What’s happened to us, Russ? I miss the days when you used to drop by unannounced with a bottle of wine and we’d spend the night yakking about nothing. You do know that you’re my favourite brother-in-law-to-be, don’t you? I mean, Adam’s lovely but you’re the real cutie of the Bachelor clan.’

Russell was lost for words. ‘I . . . umm . . . I . . . er . . .’

‘I’ve embarrassed you, haven’t I? A girl shows a bit of affection and you’re straight back into your fortress of solitude! Well, before you spontaneously combust I’m going to take my leave but I want you to promise me that you’ll come round and see us for a proper catch-up, plus we can talk over some ideas I’ve got for your mum and dad’s fortieth. How does tomorrow sound?’

‘I can’t,’ said Russell. ‘I’ve got a work thing on that I can’t miss.’

‘OK, well I’ve got a double Pilates lesson on Wednesday but I’m not sure I can be bothered so how about then?’

‘Wednesday’s pretty busy too.’

‘OK, Thursday?’

‘It’s five-a-side Thursday night.’

‘That’s with the same lot that Luke used to play with? That’s sorted then, isn’t it? It’s only on from eight until nine. You could come round to mine straight afterwards, have a shower and I’ll make us something to eat, You’ll be doing me a huge favour as I could really do with the company.’

‘What do you mean, company?’ asked Russell. ‘Won’t Luke be there?’

‘Chance would be a fine thing,’ sighed Cassie. ‘He’s away all week in London on some course or other so, yes, you will be keeping me company. You’d better sharpen up your conversational skills pronto!’

Russell mulled over his sister-in-law-to-be’s proposition and felt sick. He wanted to say no. He needed to say no. But knowing that there would now be no way of getting out of it without him coming across as a nutter he found himself saying: ‘That sounds great. See you Thursday night,’ while simultaneously hoping that somehow in between now and then he might get run over by a car.

Three days later at ten minutes after nine Russell found himself standing on Luke and Cassie’s doorstep ringing the bell.

‘At last!’ said Cassie as she opened the door. ‘For a minute there I thought you’d bailed on me.’

She was wearing a red and white checked shirt over a green vest top, skinny jeans and flip-flops. Her jet-black hair was piled on top of her head in a haphazard fashion. This was the off-duty Cassie and strictly for people with whom she felt comfortable. It was by far and away Russell’s favourite version of her and she could not have looked any more adorable, which meant his attempts to get over her were doomed to defeat. ‘Come here and give me one of those hugs of yours,’ she said.

He put his arms round her, conscious of the slenderness of her frame and the warmth of her breath on the nape of his neck. This was bliss. A perfect moment in an otherwise nightmare day that had seen him arrive late for work, drip coronation chicken dressing down the front of his suit and lose his bank card. Suddenly none of it mattered any more. He closed his eyes, instinctively dug his nose a little deeper into her hair and inhaled. Is this what life was like for Luke? Was he forever walking round on a cloud of happiness?

‘Right then,’ said Cassie, patting Russell on the back and pulling away. The embrace was clearly over. ‘Are you hungry?’

He shrugged. ‘I suppose I could eat something.’

‘Good. I’ll knock us up some pasta, you go and take a shower and I’ll see you in a bit.’

Half an hour later, showered and dressed, Russell returned downstairs to the smell of pasta primavera, which they ate sitting on the sofa, an old Alton Ellis album playing in the background. As they worked their way through two bottles of super-chilled Pinot Grigio the conversation flowed so seamlessly that it was impossible to tell where one topic ended and another began. Amongst the million and one subjects covered were wedding plans and the perils of becoming one of the Bachelors; Russell’s mum and dad’s fortieth and how amazing it was to have first-hand evidence that love can last forty years; and then finally, somewhere around midnight, having worked their way though a tub of Ben and Jerry’s the conversation turned to Russell himself, and specifically the question of his love life.

‘So come on then, Russ, what’s going on with you? It’s ages since you’ve brought a young lady along to the Bachelor Sunday dinner.’

‘And that’s not likely to change any time soon.’

‘How come? A good-looking boy like you should have the girls queuing for miles! What about that Angie who came with you a few times? Are you two definitely just good mates or is she a project in progress?’

‘Definitely just mates, believe me, nothing’s going to happen there.’

Cassie refused to let the subject go. ‘So what are you saying? There’s no one? What a waste of a decent bloke. I’m definitely bringing you out next time I meet up with all of my friends. They would love you to bits! I could see a couple of them ditching husbands for you!’

‘There’s no need to do that, honestly,’ said Russell quickly. ‘I’m fine.’ He paused, desperate to unburden himself but unsure of how far to go. ‘Look, there is sort of someone special.’

Cassie clapped her hands in glee. ‘See! I knew it! Who? Anyone I know?’

Russell shook his head quickly, realising he should never have had that sixth glass of wine. ‘No, you don’t know her, but yes I do really like her.’

‘Really like or love? I bet you love her, don’t you? You’re way more romantic than either of your brothers.’ Cassie looked into Russell’s eyes. ‘I can see it right there. You love her. Who is she?’

Russell felt his mouth go dry. ‘I can’t tell you. I haven’t told anybody. Anyway it’s pointless because she’s already got a boyfriend and she’s madly in love with him.’

‘And does she know how you feel?’

‘Not a clue.’

‘Are you sure? Because when it comes to love us girls have got the best detection skills in the world.’

‘I promise you she doesn’t have the faintest clue. Otherwise she’d never act the way that she does around me.’

‘And how’s that?’

‘I dunno, sort of flirty but without knowing it. I think she’s just one of those incredibly tactile people.’

‘And what’s she like as a person?’

‘Amazing. That’s the best word I can think of to describe her. She’s amazing and funny, sweet, warm-hearted, generous too. She’s everything that I’m looking for in a girl.’

‘So why don’t you just tell her? You never know, she might be feeling that way too and just be too scared to tell you.’

‘I can’t,’ sighed Russell, suddenly feeling very sober. ‘It’s never going to happen so I might as well just keep it to myself.’

‘Will you just listen to yourself?’

Adam was had one eye on MTV but mostly he was thinking about Steph.

It had been nearly a week since Steph had allowed him to take her for a coffee after their encounter in his local newsagent’s and yet she was still very much on his mind. Adam frequently found himself thinking generally about what she might be doing or saying at any particular moment; occasionally these thoughts were tempered by cogitations on what she might be wearing when she was saying or doing the various things that he imagined. This evening however Adam had excelled himself and was debating what she might be thinking about when she was wearing what he imagined she was wearing when she was saying or doing the various things that he imagined she might be doing or saying. Adam couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this way about a girl. Admittedly he had been keen on girls before but in a more acquisitive way, not in this precise manner where he felt breathless and giddy about them, willingly allowing them to occupy various corners of his mind when they weren’t actually there standing in front of him.

How good had their ‘coffee date’ been? Amazing. Initially they talked about their various jobs but then the conversation had flitted this way and that from school days to current affairs and from current affairs through to the current plight of Man City (which was a surprise) but for Adam the real eureka moment, the tipping point at which this ceased to be a battle to make a theoretical change of heart and when he actually thought seriously about kissing Steph in the way that he might have kissed a hot-looking girl in a very short skirt, was when she told him she really had to go and he realised they had been talking for an hour and that Steph possessed something he had never encountered before in a date prior to this moment: a personality. From that moment forward he was officially smitten.

Groaning at the thought that he was suffering from an overdose of oestrogen, Adam decided to take action. Reasoning that even the right kind of girls observed the ‘wait three days before re-establishing contact’ rule, Adam had opted to add an extra couple of days into the mix just to make it clear that he was a busy man with a busy life, and now there was nothing stopping him from making the call.

He dialled Steph’s number and waited. Steph’s phone rang out for half a minute or so before clicking on to voicemail. Adam didn’t really do voicemail on the grounds that it was seriously uncool but it would be far less cool for Steph to see his number as a missed call and draw the conclusion that he was the sort of person who worried about leaving voicemail messages because they were uncool.

‘Hi Steph, it’s me Adam . . . y’know . . . Bachelor . . . from your school days . . . y’know just in case you know any other Adams and you’re finding this message confusing. Anyway I just wanted to say that I really enjoyed that coffee the other day and would love to catch up with you again when you’re free some time. Hope all is good with you. Let’s speak soon. Oh . . . do you like tapas? I’m pretty sure everyone does. Anyway if you do there’s a new tapas place just opened on Wilbraham Road that had a great review in
City List
if you fancy that . . . and no offence if you’re not a tapas fiend . . . after all each to their own, right? Anyway . . . this is turning into a bit of an epic message . . . I’m worried that this thing is going to run out of space . . . Anyway . . . whatever . . . hopefully I’ll see you soon . . . oh, by the way this is . . . was . . . Adam . . . as in Adam Bachelor from school. Bye.’

As Adam pressed the end call button on his phone and placed it carefully on the table he pushed his chair back to make space for himself to get down on his knees, curl up into a ball and with fists clenched let out a loud groan that was sixty per cent gut-wrenching embarrassment, forty per cent pure anguish. How could a universe exist in which a man as impossibly cool as he was could leave an answerphone message of such buttock-clenching awfulness? Had he entered a parallel universe where the laws of normal human interaction didn’t apply? Didn’t the people of this parallel world know who he was? That he had a plaque on his mantelpiece bearing the inscription ‘the second best-looking bloke in Chorlton’? Didn’t they know that he was definitely not the kind of bloke who left rambling voicemail messages? What was wrong with this world? And more importantly, what was wrong with him?