“You’re absolutely right,” said Kate. “I’m not being unfaithful to Richard because I’m not in a relationship with Richard.”
“Precisely!” said Laura. “He’s signed up too. And don’t you go thinking he’s not out there right now flirting with his Bond girl.”
Kate’s stomach squeezed. She didn’t like the idea of Richard flirting with other women, but Laura was right; this was the nature of the Twelve Dates beast.
“So, get back out there quickly and enjoy your evening with sexy Jim, before you’ve been gone so long he thinks you’re having a poo,” said Laura.
* * *
• • • • •
Kate wandered back through the restaurant. Several couples had already left. Kate wondered if maybe they hadn’t hit it off. Then again, she thought, maybe they’d really hit it off!
Jim smiled at her as Kate took her seat and laid her napkin in her lap.
“So,” said Kate.
“So,” said Jim.
“Have you chosen a dessert?” Kate asked, picking up the menu and flicking through to the back page.
Jim smiled.
“I think we both know what’s for dessert, Kate,” he said.
“What?” asked Kate. She looked up from the menu to find Jim staring at her intently.
“I’ve got a room booked over near Kings Cross,” said Jim.
“What?” Kate found herself repeating.
“Don’t act coy, Kate,” said Jim. “We both know why we’re here.”
“But,” said Kate. “But.”
She opened and closed her mouth a few times as she tried and failed to formulate a response. She’d dealt with creeps on numerous occasions but never one who hid his creepy under such a gentlemanly façade. She was trying to keep her temper, but it wasn’t easy.
“I’m sorry if you got the wrong impression,” said Kate. “But this is just a date. Nothing more.”
“Oh, come on!” said Jim. “You’re my number eight, I was on a roll. Don’t make me miss my stride.”
“Did you switch places with your evil twin while I was in the toilet?” Kate asked.
“I thought we were on the same wavelength,” said Jim. “We’ve had a nice evening, we’ve got great chemistry, so why not?”
“Why not?” Kate blustered. “What about all that stuff about wanting to settle down and be in a team of two?”
“That was just to get you damp,” he said.
“You’re disgusting!” said Kate. Her temper was so hot she could feel her dinner roiling in her stomach.
“Oh great!” said Jim. “Just my luck. Another bird who watches rom-coms! I’ll let you in on a little secret. This is the Twelve Shags of Christmas, love! How did you think this was going to end?”
Kate blustered.
“With a good-night kiss and a second date,” she hissed. “You misogynistic arsehole!”
“It’s Christmas, darlin’,” Jim drooled. “Loosen your corset a bit, treat yourself!”
“I am not your darlin’!” Kate hissed across the table. She didn’t want to make a scene. “And sleeping with you is not my idea of treating myself!”
Jim seemed to be bringing out a Victorian side of her personality.
“You’ve got a high opinion of yourself, love,” sneered Jim.
“And you’ve clearly got a split personality!” said Kate. “Somewhere between courses I’ve wound up with Mr. Hyde.”
“I’d settle for an angry shag,” said Jim. “I’m not proud.”
“There is nothing that would induce me to have sex with you,” said Kate.
“Right,” said Jim.
He stood up and threw his napkin down on the table.
“Well, this has been a complete waste of time,” he said. “I’m going to the bar to see if I can salvage a number eight. I’ve got money riding on this.”
He strode through the emptying restaurant and up the steps and settled himself at the bar next to a woman in a sheer, skintight pink dress, with no demonstrable knickers and an umbrella in her cocktail glass.
Kate was about to go and warn the woman, when the rep came over and bent to Kate’s ear.
“Can you come with me a moment?” she whispered.
Kate looked over at Jim to see him running his hand up the woman’s back. The rep saw her looking.
“Don’t worry about him,” she said. “We’ve got his number.”
Kate stood and followed the rep through a concealed door in the paneling, down a cramped corridor, and into a small, brightly lit office. The rep motioned for Kate to sit and Kate did so, plonking herself down hard in one of the chairs at the paper-strewn desk.
“This relates to what we were talking about earlier,” said the rep. “We need your help.”
“Mine?” said Kate. “What with?”
“You see, most of the people who’ve signed up are genuine, like you,” said the rep. “But there is a certain element who have formed a Twelve Shags of Christmas betting ring.”
“Jim?” said Kate.
“Among others,” said the rep. “We’ve been expelling the culprits as we discover them, but Jim has been hard to pin down. We can’t take action until we have evidence and so far, all of Jim’s dates have left with him willingly.”
“Where do I sign?” said Kate. “He told me himself he had money riding on this.”
The rep smiled and opened the laptop on the desk.
“If you could submit a complaint form, we can expel him from the Twelve Dates and any other forums across the Lightning Strikes website,” said the rep.
“What about the woman outside?” Kate asked. “She seems too drunk to make good decisions.”
“I’ve already called her a cab and the barman is going to make sure she gets in the car alone,” said the rep. “The second you submit your form we can exclude Jim from the restaurant.”
Kate was already filling in the complaint form.
“He is going to be so pissed,” said Kate. She smiled broadly. “I wonder how much money he’s got riding on getting a full house?”
“The last I heard,” said the rep, “the jackpot was up to five grand. Each participant has to put two hundred pounds in the pot to join, and then they can bet more depending on how confident they are.”
“Jim seemed pretty confident,” said Kate. “I reckon he’s bet himself high.”
“We can only hope.” The rep smiled.
Kate waited until Jim had been removed from the restaurant and been seen entering a taxi alone before slipping back out through the paneled door and out of the restaurant.
She grabbed herself a coffee from a late-night coffeehouse and sat outside beneath an awning heater and watched the theatergoers hurrying by after the evening performances and the tourists meandering along with spirits and cameras high.
She called Evelyn.
“What’s wrong?” said Evelyn, ever astute. “Is everything all right?”
“Not really,” said Kate.
She gave Evelyn a brief account of the evening’s events.
“Get yourself over here,” said Evelyn. “You know where we are, don’t you?”
“New Covent Garden market,” said Kate.
“That’s the place,” said Evelyn. “I’m getting ready to haggle with tree sellers! Call me when you arrive and I’ll direct you to where we are.”
Kate couldn’t be bothered with the hassle of the tube, so she hailed a taxi and spent a small fortune on the ride to the gigantic marketplace. The market didn’t open till midnight, but Evelyn would have made sure Patrick got them there at least an hour before it opened, so as to get a good parking spot and so that she was first in when the doors opened.
The taxi dropped her off near the fruit and veg entrance at eleven forty-five p.m. Traders had already begun to queue. It was going
to be a busy night. Kate guessed there’d be a big rush on sprouts.
She called Evelyn.
“Where are you?” asked Evelyn.
“I’m at the entrance,” said Kate.
“Which entrance?” Evelyn asked. “I can’t see you.”
It was hard to hear above the noise. Kate could make out a deep muffled voice near Evelyn; Patrick, she thought.
“I’m trying to find out!” Evelyn answered the voice. “Stop fussing!”
“The fruit and veg market entrance,” said Kate.
“Oh, dash it all,” said Evelyn. “Darling, we’re at the flower market entrance. It’s just across the way, you can’t miss it.”
More mumbling, quite grumpy mumbling from what Kate could make out.
“No, we will not go and meet her,” said Evelyn to Grumpy. “I don’t want to lose my place in the queue . . . She is perfectly capable of making it over here by herself . . . Oh, for heaven’s sake, all right! Kate darling, stay where you are, the cavalry’s coming!”
Evelyn hung up and Kate stood to the side of the haphazard queue and waited for Patrick to come and find her. Five minutes later the cavalry arrived.
Kate did a double take. Matt rubbed his hand through his messy hair when he spotted her. He looked serious. The collar and bottom of a checked shirt poked out from underneath his navy-blue fisherman’s jumper, and his jeans were tucked into his old work boots.
Matt had a way of making scruffy look handsome; Kate always thought of his style as landscape-gardener-chic. He never really had to try. Clothes just sort of hung well on him, as if they were glad to be there. It was very annoying.
Kate’s heart leaped at the sight of him, despite herself. She told herself she was just pleased to see a friendly face after her disastrous date, but the ache of longing in her chest was becoming harder to ignore.
“Hello,” said Kate. “What are you doing here?”
“Are you all right?” Matt asked without preamble. “What happened?”
“I’m fine,” said Kate. “Where’s Patrick?”
“You didn’t answer my question,” said Matt.
“You didn’t answer mine,” said Kate.
“I swear to God, Kate, you drive me nuts,” said Matt.
“Fair enough,” said Kate. “Where’s Patrick?”
“He twisted his knee on the ice, he can’t drive,” said Matt. “Anything could have happened, Kate. Anything!”
“No, it couldn’t,” said Kate. “I was in a restaurant.”
“Yeah, but after that,” said Matt.
“There was never going to be an after that,” Kate assured him. “I had no intention of going anywhere other than to dinner. And I wish I hadn’t bothered with that. The only consolation is that they’ve got one less arsehole on their books now.”
“You don’t know these people,” said Matt. “They could be anyone.”
“That could be said for any new person you meet,” said Kate. “Everyone could be anyone, before you get to know them and ascertain that they’re not.”
Matt ran his hand through his hair again. It stood up on end like he’d plugged himself in.
“Well, I think you’re putting yourself in unnecessary danger,” said Matt.
“Well, I think this is by far the safest way I’ve ever dated,” said Kate. “Organized dates with reps on standby throughout; it’s hardly picking strangers up in seedy bars,” she went on.
“I don’t like it,” said Matt.
“Then don’t join.”
“What if you meet another arsehole?” Matt pressed.
“Do you think this is the first time some bloke’s pushed his luck with me?” Kate asked. “I’m a woman, Matt. Ask any woman you like; every one of us has had practice in dealing with unwanted sexual advances or expectations.”
Matt put his arm round her and kissed the top of her head.
“That’s really depressing,” he said.
“You’re telling me,” said Kate. “Come on, you big dork. Take me to Christmas tree heaven.”
Matt kept his arm protectively around her shoulder as they walked across to the flower market, and Kate let him. She leaned into him. She liked it. Just for a moment she let herself imagine: This is what it would be like to be loved by Matt. Another voice in her head whispered a warning: Stop it, Kate, this path isn’t for you.
“So, you’re saying even my great-granny Peggy would have experienced unwanted sexual advances?” said Matt.
“Undoubtedly,” said Kate. “Granny Peg was a hot mama.”
“It must have been those floral pinnies,” said Matt.
“Thanks for worrying about me,” said Kate.
“You’re welcome,” said Matt.
* * *
• • • • •
Heaven was an understatement. The flower market was a full-scale attack on the senses. The perfume of so many blooms in one place was intoxicating; if they could bottle this scent, Kate thought, they would make a fortune.
Kate’s arty-fingers were twitching; she was glad she’d brought her camera. She sighed with resignation; she was going to spend a lot of money here tonight.
And she did.
“Leave room for the Christmas trees,” said Matt as Kate passed him with her loaded trolley.
Kate pulled a face at him and walked on; she wouldn’t dignify that with an answer, she thought, as she nestled a large silver stag between two garlands of cypress, holly, and spruce, coiled like sleeping pythons and surrounded by bunches of frosted ruby berries.
Twenty-five Christmas trees and a veritable festive bounty later, Matt forced the doors of the van shut and the three of them clambered into the front seats, homeward bound.
“I need the window seat,” said Evelyn.
“You’re at the front of the van,” said Matt. “They’re all window seats.”
“But I like to look out of the side window,” said Evelyn. “And I don’t want to be squished between you two bickering all the way home.”
“I don’t bicker,” said Kate. “Matt is wrong a lot of the time and it’s my duty to tell him so.”
“Kate is a fantasist,” said Matt. “She thinks she’s always right.”
“Get in the van,” said Evelyn.
Evelyn was asleep with her face pressed against the side window, almost before they’d made it out of the car park. She snored quietly. Kate laid her coat over Evelyn, pulling it up around her shoulders and tucking it under her chin. Evelyn stirred but didn’t wake.
“She’s nice when she’s asleep,” said Matt. Kate stifled a giggle. “Come on, then,” he said. “I’ve heard the condensed version, now tell me what actually happened with jump-yer-bones Jim.”
There was no way to escape, so Kate gave in and told Matt what happened. She looked up at him occasionally as she talked and saw that his jaw was set; she could tell he was clamping his teeth together.
“It just worries me, Kate,” Matt said when she had finished.
“But it shouldn’t,” said Kate. “Share my outrage by all means, but there’s no need for you to worry.”
“You’re my friend,” said Matt. “And you’re out night after night with a different bloke; of course I’m going to worry.”
“You make me sound like a hooker,” said Kate.
Matt smiled wickedly.
“If the shoe fits,” he said, grinning.
Kate flicked his ear hard.
“Ouch!” said Matt. “I’m trying to drive.”
“Stop being a dick, then,” she said.
They were quiet for a while. The fluorescent clock face on the van’s dashboard read 3:45 a.m. The monotonous music of the tires on the road was strangely soothing.
Kate was warm and tired, and the temptation to rest her head on Matt’s shoulder was almost irresistible. But resi
st she did. There was a time when she wouldn’t have even thought about it, but here, next to him, in the warm dark, she felt suddenly and inexplicably self-conscious, as if her body language might divulge a secret she’d fought to keep even from herself.
The feeling in her chest was filling the small van; the voice in her head was shouting so loud she worried Matt would hear it. She felt she would burst from the pressure pushing against her ribs, her heart was so full: so full for him.
She looked at his long slender hands on the steering wheel. She glanced up at his profile, lit by the headlamps of cars on the other side of the motorway; he squinted slightly as he concentrated on the road. His hair was a shaggy mess of twists and curls. And Kate could no longer deny that she loved him. As impossible and implausible as that love might be, it was love and there was nothing to be done about it.
Kate stared out the window. It was just starting to snow again; the flakes flurried in the headlights like feathers from a burst pillow. Unrequited love. This was to be her lot. The ache of it burned through her. This pain; this pain was why she’d tried so hard, for so long, to keep her feelings for Matt locked away.
She watched the snowflakes get bigger. They began to settle in fuzzy lines along the dark tarmac. In the dark van, with the smell of pine needles in her nose, she made a vow. She would never tell Matt her true feelings. And she would do everything in her power to make sure Sarah didn’t, however unintentionally, break Matt’s heart, because that’s what people in love do; they protect the hearts of those they love, even if that love will never be returned.
* * *
• • • • •
Patrick’s son Pete was waiting for them out the back of Evelyn’s shop as they pulled onto the drive. It was still dark. Kate gently woke Evelyn, who shivered visibly as Matt opened the van door and helped her out.
“Go on up to bed,” said Matt.
“I’ll be all right in a minute,” said Evelyn. Her teeth chattered together. “I’ll give you a hand.”
The Twelve Dates of Christmas Page 21
