You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me (35 page)

‘Sometimes I worry that if I keep focusing on sexual gratification, I’ll never be able to sustain a proper relationship. That’s what my th— one of my friends keeps saying,’ Max admitted. ‘What do you think about that?’

Neve tried to give the matter the serious consideration it deserved. Then she gave up. ‘I think you need to find some new friends.’

Max’s half of the bed was empty the next morning but the duvet had been tucked tight around Neve. She’d given Keith a walk and was just packing her gym bag, when she received a text from Max.

Thanks for my lovely birthday surprises. Especially the last one. Are you freaking out yet?
he wanted to know, as if Neve being freaked out was her only rational response to what had happened the night before.

Truthfully, she was a little freaked out and a little embarrassed too. Or actually a
lot
embarrassed, but God, she was twenty-five and it turned out that she had needs that couldn’t be satisfied by her own hand and a one-armed read of Anaïs Nin’s
Delta of Venus
any more.

Sort of
, she texted back, and was just about to hit send, when she decided that if Max was hinting at what she thought he was hinting at, then she needed to make her feelings crystal clear.
But I want to do it again and next time, I want to return the favour
.

She wasn’t sure what time Max’s flight was, but after ninety minutes of cardio and free weights, there was another text from him.

Can’t wait, you naughty girl. Give Keith a kiss for me and have one for yourself
.

Max had left a week’s supply of foul-smelling dog food and two pages of instructions about doggie daycare. Neve had expected advice about dog-walking, worming tablets and the vet’s emergency phone number, but it turned out that Max had a very dim view of her dog-sitting abilities:

• Do NOT let him in your bedroom.

• It also goes without saying that he is NOT to sleep on your bed.

• Do NOT let him in the bathroom. He’ll try to drink out of the toilet bowl.

• Do NOT feed him at the table. He eats dog food not human food.

• And do NOT give him chocolate. I’m serious. Human chocolate can make dogs very ill. Have left a bag of liver treats instead.

• He doesn’t like old men, especially if they have walking sticks or zimmer frames.

• He doesn’t like balloons, carrier bags or kites.

• Also avoid small children.

• A small child trying to fly a kite, while holding a balloon and a carrier bag in their other hand would just about finish him off.

By the time Neve went to bed that night, Keith had stayed in the bathroom while she had a shower (and tried to get in the cubicle to drink the water), because he’d barked and scrabbled at the door so hard, she’d feared for her paintwork.

He’d also had a piece of steamed haddock from her plate because she hadn’t been able to eat dinner without his nose in her crotch and his paw prodding her leg until she fed him.

Neve had secretly suspected that Keith wouldn’t have so many emotional issues if Max refused to indulge him, but it turned out that she was the softest of soft touches, unable to wield any sort of discipline or say, ‘No, Keith, you have to sleep in the lounge,’ in an authoritative voice.

She’d lasted five minutes until the sound of Keith whimpering and howling and generally giving the impression that he was being tortured had forced her into the living room to pick up his bed, and his toys and his water bowl. But if he had to sleep in her room, then he could do it in his own bed, Neve reasoned as she sat up, eyes fixed on Keith. Every time she took her gaze off him and tried to read, he’d dive out of his bed and start advancing towards her.

‘Back to your basket, you wicked boy,’ she’d say and he’d slink away, eyes downcast, only to be given away by the joyous wag of his stumpy tale, as if it was the best game ever.

It was inevitable – as soon as Neve turned out the light, there was a scrabble of claws on the wooden floor, then a dead weight landed on her feet. ‘Bad dog,’ she snapped, but they could both tell her heart wasn’t in it. Besides, if Keith stayed at the bottom of the bed, he could double up as a hot-water bottle.

Keith had other ideas. He wriggled up the bed on his belly as if he was being stealthy and settled down next to Neve, batting his paws against her back until she was shoved right over and he could put his head on
her
pillow and pant hot doggy breath against her face.

‘Celia was right,’ Neve grumbled. ‘You
are
a devil dog.’

Celia hadn’t revised her opinion of Keith when she came round the next evening for Chinese food and sisterly support.

‘I can’t believe you let him sleep on your bed!’ she exclaimed, with a horrified look at Keith, who was watching her every move as she shovelled chicken and cashew nuts into her mouth. ‘He could have savaged you in your sleep and it’s gross and unhygienic.’

‘I did read somewhere that dog spit is cleaner than humans’,’ Neve countered, feeling a paw thump against her leg in agreement. It stayed there until she fed him one half of her steamed veggie dumpling. The only food Keith wouldn’t eat was celery. ‘Seels, let him have a bit of your egg roll and you’ll have a friend for life.’

‘I’m not giving him one of my bloody egg rolls.’ Keith turned imploring eyes on her until she broke one in half and gingerly fed it to him. ‘I thought he’d have one of my fingers,’ she said in surprise and Neve smiled as Celia patted Keith’s head and gave him the rest of her egg roll.

By the time Celia had worked her way through wonton soup, sweet and sour chicken, egg fried rice, prawn Foo Yung and the egg rolls with Keith’s help, the two of them were becoming firm friends.

‘If he’s sick, you’re clearing it up,’ Neve told her.

‘He’s not so bad for a mangy, flea-bitten mutt who probably mauls toddlers when no one’s looking,’ Celia cooed, scratching Keith under his chin. It seemed that the creepy voice was buried deep in both their DNA. ‘So, you’ve told me off about Sunday and I’ve bored you to tears about Yuri and that lame graphic designer, and I still say they won’t last another week. I think it’s time we bitched about Charlotte.’

‘I’m not coming down to her level,’ Neve said sanctimoniously, as she waited for the kettle to boil and squirted Fairy Liquid over the remains of Celia’s egg fried rice so she wouldn’t be tempted to eat it later.

‘Yeah, you always say that but you always do once I’ve warmed you up.’ Celia grinned and cracked her knuckles. ‘Where to begin? She’s got a new Juicy Couture tracksuit – powder blue. Wonder how much that cost Douglas?’

‘She works, she probably paid for it herself,’ Neve said, sitting back down and taking a sip of peppermint tea.

‘How much do you think she gets paid for piling slap on the faces of her unwilling victims?’ Celia sneered, because although she hated Charlotte for many valid reasons, most of her contempt was directed at Charlotte’s choice of career, which largely consisted of standing behind a make-up counter and trying to interest shoppers in the new spring colours. ‘She doesn’t even work somewhere cool like Selfridges. She works in a large branch of Boots, and those tracksuits don’t come cheap.’

‘They’re tracksuits! How much could they cost?’

Celia gave Neve a pitying look. ‘Try a hundred quid for the hoodie and about ninety for the bottoms.’

‘Two hundred pounds for a tracksuit?’ Neve nearly choked on her outrage. ‘That’s disgraceful! It’s so typical of her to pay for the privilege of having the word
juicy
scrawled over her bottom.’

‘There you go! I knew you couldn’t hold out much longer. Now, what do you think about their latest row? Did you hear what Douglas called her?’

Neve hadn’t, and before Celia could fill her in on the details, her phone rang. Nothing unusual in that but the way her stomach flip-flopped as she retrieved her phone from the worktop, because she thought it might be Max, was new territory.

‘Hold that thought,’ she said to Celia as she answered the call. ‘Hello?’

‘Is that Neve? Max’s Neve?’ asked a young woman with a lilting Mancunian accent.

‘Er, yes, this is Neve,’ she replied.

‘Great! This is Mandy. He’s told me all about you. Well, he didn’t want to but I threatened to knock a half percentage point off his royalties and that worked like a charm. So, how are you?’

‘I’m fine,’ Neve said carefully. She didn’t have a clue who the woman was, but she seemed to know Max very well. ‘I’m sorry – Mandy …?’

‘Mandy McIntyre. Max said you weren’t very up on your current affairs. And when I asked why, he said you’d recently come out of a convent ’cause you weren’t ready to take Holy Orders, but I thought he was taking the piss. He usually is.’

Oh God,
that
Mandy! ‘Oh yes, hi. Sorry about that, couldn’t quite place the name,’ Neve said, pulling an anguished face at Celia and mouthing ‘Mandy McIntyre’ as she pointed at her phone. ‘He
was
taking the, um, piss. I haven’t been in a convent, I just don’t watch a lot of TV or read
heat
magazine.’

Celia was practically on her lap, face pressed against Neve’s as she tried to listen in. ‘What’s she saying?’ she hissed.

‘What do you do with yourself if you don’t watch telly?’ was what Mandy was saying. ‘We had a power cut last week and the Sky box didn’t record
Glee
and I thought I was going to die. Anyway, you’re probably wondering why I’m calling, though it’s nice to get to know each other, isn’t it?’

‘Very nice,’ Neve said, elbowing Celia who was jostling her so hard she was in danger of falling off the chair. ‘Congratulations on the wedding. You must be very excited.’

‘It’s a total mare, if you must know,’ Mandy sighed. ‘But that’s why I’m calling. Now has Max told you about the dress code, which is black and white? That’s black
or
white but it can also be black
and
white. For instance, you could wear a white dress if it had a black floral pattern.’

Celia moaned like she was in pain, then stuffed as much of her hand as she could get into her mouth to mute the giggles.

‘I think I’m going to wear black,’ Neve mumbled. ‘Um, is that all right?’ Mandy seemed to be the sort of person who didn’t like to get caught unawares.

‘Black’s fine and you’ll need a sexy little number for the Friday when we’re having a girls’ night out. That’s the other reason why I’m calling. Honestly, you put my head next to a sieve and you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.’

‘Oh, I’m sure that’s not true,’ Neve simpered, as Celia pulled a face to let Neve know she was very unimpressed at her sister’s lame attempts at conversation. ‘But I’m not sure when we’re coming up. It might be too late to go out on Friday night.’ Or rather, she was going to make certain she wasn’t available for a girls’ night out with Mandy and her friends. Mandy seemed like comedy gold, but her WAG friends? It would be like going out with a gang of Charlottes.

‘Well, I already told Max that you have to come up on the Thursday and that’s a Mandy McIntyre order,’ Mandy said without one jot of irony. ‘So you need to get a lush frock ’cause we’re going clubbing in town and we’re having a spa day before that, so don’t worry if there’s no chance to top up your tan before you leave London. They do terrible tans down there anyway. I went to one place in Mayfair and I came out beige. You can have anything you like at the spa, as long as it’s not a deep facial ’cause I don’t want anyone looking blotchy in my wedding photos.’

‘That’s very kind of you, but—’

‘Now, Neve, are you about to say no to me?’

‘Well, it’s just that—’

‘Because the word “no” is not in my vocabulary, along with the words “can’t” and “Victoria Beckham”. So, even if you did say no, I wouldn’t understand – and don’t worry about the expense. It’s a freebie ’cause I’ve already done a pre-wedding photo-shoot at the Spa for
Voila
, and one of the other girls had to drop out. See, my sister Kelly’s best mate, Shelly, she was going out with one of Darren’s team-mates until she copped off with someone from Chelsea
and
she got found out
and
she sold her story so I said to Kelly, “I don’t care if she is your best mate …”’

Neve held the phone away even though she could still hear Mandy chirping happily about what she’d said to Kelly about Shelly. ‘I’m going to kill Max,’ she told Celia, who was flapping her hands and contorting her face into a terrible grimace as she tried to contain her mirth.

‘… need you to sign a privacy agreement so you don’t blab to the papers about anything that happens during the weekend.’ Mandy paused – by this stage oxygen had to be getting scarce. ‘I should have probably faxed that before I called but you’ve got a really nice voice and I’m sure you wouldn’t go to the papers. I’m a really good judge of character about these things. I never liked Shelly; her eyes are too close together.’

Mandy stayed on the phone for another ten, very long minutes, then she had to ring back because she’d forgotten to get Neve’s fax number. When she finally rang off and the phone stayed silent this time, Neve collapsed on the table. ‘Oh my God, I’m going to be an honorary WAG for a whole weekend.’