The Perfect Fit

by Mary Jayne Baker

  Her eyebrows lifted. ‘He didn’t meet someone else?’

  ‘Not him.’ I closed my eyes so I didn’t have to read her expression. ‘Cole thinks… Cyn, he told me I’d fallen in love with another man.’

  ‘Do you think you have?’

  ‘I… honestly, I don’t know. There’s someone I can’t seem to stop thinking about, just lately.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ She paused, watching my twitching features. ‘Marcus Teasdale.’

  I stared at her. ‘How did you know that?’

  ‘Your dad and I have had our suspicions a while,’ she admitted. ‘Danny told me how close the two of you have gotten. And we’ve been watching the show.’

  ‘Was it really that obvious?’

  She smiled. ‘Afraid so, sweetie, to anyone who knows you like we do.’

  I sipped my tea to give me an excuse to break eye contact. It was weird to think my one-sided love affair with Marcus, if that’s what it was, had been playing out in all its glorious, in-your-face Technicolor for the nation while the two leads remained merrily oblivious.

  ‘Have you told your friends?’ Cynthia asked. ‘About the break-up?’

  ‘Just Lana. I’d like to keep it quiet until after the panto, if I can. I really can’t deal with all the questions and the looks and… you know, everything.’

  ‘You’re still going ahead with the pantomime then?’

  ‘Well, yeah. I can’t let everyone down now. We open in three weeks and the Temp’s counting on us.’

  ‘Will you see Cole again?’

  ‘Yes, tonight. He’s coming over after rehearsal to pick up some of his stuff.’ I put my tea down. I couldn’t drink it with the lump that kept rising in my gullet.

  ‘You know you did the right thing, don’t you?’ Cynthia said gently.

  ‘Logically, yes. Doesn’t stop me missing him though.’ I smiled sadly. ‘I know you never thought he was right for me, but I did love him.’

  ‘I know you did, my love. But that’s not always enough, is it? Not when you want different things.’

  I sighed. ‘We had so many plans, Cyn. It almost feels like a bereavement, giving up on them all.’

  ‘You’re not giving up on them. You just won’t be doing them with Cole.’ She came to sit on the side of my chair and put her arm around me. ‘A relationship has to be a partnership, Becky, or it just won’t work. I’m glad you found that out sooner rather than later.’

  ‘Me too,’ I said. ‘Imagine if he’d only worked out he didn’t want to be a father after he was one. What a nightmare for all three of us.’

  ‘So what will you do about Marcus?’

  ‘What I feel for Marc… God, I don’t know what I feel for him. What I do know is what he feels for me. Bugger all.’

  ‘You really believe that?’

  ‘Romantically, yeah. It’s like… like we’re best friends. But he’s never given any sign he sees me as more than that.’

  ‘There’s no better basis for a solid relationship than a solid friendship,’ Cynthia said, echoing Lana’s dodgy perfect-partner quiz. ‘Do you think you’ve fallen for him?’

  ‘I don’t know. I… I don’t know what to feel. What it’s ok to feel.’ I blew my nose on the tissue she handed me. ‘Is that even possible, to love two people at once?’

  ‘I believe it.’ She dipped her head to look into my eyes. ‘But I think if you’re honest with yourself, you’ll find the feelings aren’t quite the same kind.’

  I hid my face in her arm to avoid that shrewd, understanding gaze. Cyn couldn’t know, could she, that whenever Cole had tried to initiate anything in the bedroom recently, I’d been unable to go through with it?

  And now I really looked into my feelings, I could see what was wrong. It was Marcus. I hadn’t been able to bring myself to have sex with Cole because it felt like… like I’d be betraying Marcus.

  I burst into tears against her shoulder and she made soothing noises until I was quiet again.

  ‘Oh, sweetie,’ she said softly. ‘It’ll all be ok.’

  ‘How will it?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘But I’m the parent and that’s the sort of thing I’m supposed to say.’

  ‘Well, Brownie points for trying.’ I reached up to squeeze her hand. ‘I’m glad I’ve got the panto to focus on, stop me brooding. It’s the last rehearsal before the press showing on Wednesday.’

  ‘Oh yeah, the press showing. Your dad’s been talking about nothing else for days.’ She patted my shoulder. ‘Thanks for getting him involved in this, Becky. It was just what he needed.’

  ‘He was just what we needed. Turns out he’s one of nature’s dames.’ I glanced up at her. ‘He’ll be a bit bereft when it’s over, won’t he? Hope he doesn’t have an existential crisis relapse.’

  She groaned. ‘Oh God. You haven’t heard then.’

  ‘Heard what?’

  ‘He’s found a new hobby. Gerry’s talked him into joining the Egglethwaite Morrismen.’ She shook her head. ‘Now there’s another British tradition I’ll never understand.’

  ‘Yeesh, really?’ I said, grimacing. ‘I’d just about got used to seeing him in drag. Not sure I’m quite ready for knickerbockers –’ I broke off, glancing at the hand massaging my shoulder. ‘Hang on. What’s digging in me?’

  I grabbed her hand and held it up to examine the ring that had materialised on one of the fingers. ‘What’s this, Cyn?’

  She flushed. ‘Present from your father.’

  ‘Oh my God! He didn’t!’

  ‘He did,’ she said, letting loose the grin hovering at the edge of her lips. ‘Next year, you’re finally getting your very own wicked stepmother.’

  Chapter 40

  ‘Ok, guys, much better tonight,’ Deano said at the end of our rehearsal that evening. ‘Gerry and Danny, you’re pearls of great price and my own true loves, as ever. Rodge, some solid dinosauring, but I want you practising your roar. Lana, good work: only two slip-ups tonight. Next week, I want it down to none.’ He shot us all a double thumbs-up. ‘Well done though, everyone. I think we’re really shaping up.’

  ‘Thank God. We can finally go to the pub,’ Maisie said with a sigh of relief. Deano was in a double panic over the press showing and the imminence of opening night and it’d been a long rehearsal, two full run-throughs.

  Deano shook his head. ‘No pub for you yet. You and Becky are staying after school.’

  She groaned. ‘What, detention again? I’ve really been trying, Deano.’

  ‘You’re doing a lot better,’ Deano said, giving her arm an encouraging pat. ‘But sorry, the kiss scene’s leaving me cold at the moment. I want another couple of run-throughs for the Happily-Ever-After before pub.’

  ‘Do we have to?’ I grumbled. ‘My feet are killing me.’

  ‘You want to be perfect for the papers in a fortnight, don’t you?’

  ‘S’pose,’ I muttered.

  Deano grabbed Marcus’s arm as he turned to follow the others backstage. ‘I want you here too, bruv.’

  ‘Me? Why?’

  ‘Favour. Your love scene with Becks is the most convincing one in the whole panto, you can give Maisie some tips.’

  ‘The Tomorrow bit? It’s not really a love scene.’

  Deano shrugged. ‘It sort of is. So will you?’

  Marc sighed. ‘All right. But you’re buying me a pint after.’

  When everyone else had gone, Deano put me and Maisie in position for the Happily-Ever-After, which followed on from the slipper-fitting.

  ‘How’s it going with Livvy?’ I asked Marcus while Deano was fiddling with the lighting.

  ‘Oh. That. Yeah, didn’t work out in the end.’

  ‘Really? Sorry to hear it.’

  He shrugged. ‘It was mutual, all amicable. Nice girl, but not the one, I think.�
��

  I’d only been making smalltalk, but… did that change things? Did I want it to? Today’s heart-to-heart with Cynthia had done nothing to clarify my feelings about Marcus. My current plan was to completely ignore them, whatever they were, until the panto was safely out of the way.

  ‘Get ready, Becks,’ Deano said.

  I approached Maisie and took her two hands in mine.

  ‘Try standing closer.’ Deano guided Maisie further towards me. ‘You’ve just found the love of your life, remember.’

  ‘This is like being on a bloody photoshoot,’ Maisie muttered to me. ‘Except I’m not getting paid.’

  ‘Right, off you go,’ Deano said.

  ‘It was you!’ Maisie-Charming said. ‘You were the mysterious girl who captured my heart.’

  ‘That’s right, your highness. It was I.’ I glanced at Marcus. ‘Is that right? Maybe we should change it to “I am she”.’

  ‘They won’t be knocking marks off for grammar,’ Deano hissed. ‘Do the kiss.’

  ‘Oh, Cinderella,’ Maisie sighed. ‘I’m so happy we found each other. Say you’ll be my princess, and you’ll never have to clean another fireplace as long as you live.’

  ‘Yes, sire, I will marry you. I love you.’

  ‘I love you too, dear heart.’

  Maisie gave me a quick peck on the lips.

  ‘Cut!’ Deano yelled. ‘Rubbish.’

  ‘I thought it was a lot better,’ Marcus said.

  ‘The delivery was better. The kiss was abysmal.’ Deano shook his head. ‘Not getting it, are you, Maisie? You’re supposed to be in love with her.’

  ‘But I’m not in love with her, am I?’ Maisie said.

  ‘Yeah, and you’re not a prince with his own castle either. It’s called acting, sweetheart. Can’t you pretend she’s Harper?’

  Maisie looked me up and down. ‘No,’ she said flatly.

  ‘Well, there comes a time in every girl’s life when she has to learn to fake it.’ He nodded to Marcus. ‘Show her how it’s done.’

  ‘Me? Why me?’

  ‘Who else is here? Go on, be a pro. She just needs to watch the movements.’

  ‘I’m not doing it. You do it, you love snogging people.’

  ‘I can’t, I’m directing. Anyway, you’ve got the most stage experience when Harper’s not around.’

  I folded my arms. ‘Don’t all queue up for me at once, lads, eh?’

  ‘Fine, if you’re going to get stroppy about it. Honestly, I’ve worked with some diva-ish leading ladies in my time…’ Marcus grumpily took me in his arms.

  ‘You watching this, Maisie?’ he said over his shoulder.

  ‘Mmm.’ Our principal boy, who’d taken a seat on the stool by the kitchen fireplace, looked up from examining her nails. ‘Edge of my seat, honey.’

  ‘Right. So you start with the fingers in the hair.’ He placed one hand against my cheek, then started sliding it slowly upwards, the tip of his little finger trailing over my ear.

  I laughed nervously at the intimate touch. It reminded me of my sexy Dorito dream.

  ‘Careful you don’t knock the wig off, Marc.’

  ‘Hush, you. No talking while I’m cherishing you.’ With his other hand he pressed against the small of my back, pushing my body into his. ‘Then you can ramp up the sexual tension a bit, Mais. Not too much, remember it’s a family audience. Got that?’

  ‘Just the right amount of girl-on-girl for the kiddies. Heard and understood.’

  Marcus let me go and turned to her. I tried not to feel too disappointed at my sudden freedom.

  ‘Look, are you taking this seriously or what?’

  ‘I am, honestly!’ She grinned. ‘But come on, it is pretty funny. You teaching me how to gay up.’

  Deano grabbed a notepad and pen from off the piano, vaulted on stage and thrust them into her hands. ‘Funny’s for the pub after closing night. Funny’s not for rehearsal two weeks before we open. I don’t care who you are or who you’re married to: I want you hanging on to every word of this, and there will be a test afterwards.’

  She stuck out her bottom lip. ‘Yes Chef.’

  ‘“Yes Chef” is right. And if you think I’m bad now, just wait till we open. This is my show, lollipop, and believe me when I say the son of a bitch has landed.’

  ‘Was he always like this?’ Maisie asked Marcus.

  He snorted. ‘This is him going easy on you. You should see how he gets over soufflé.’

  ‘Never mind soufflé.’ Deano nodded to his brother. ‘That was cracking stuff, Marc. Go on, please.’

  Marcus took me in his arms again, a gentle yet businesslike embrace that set my heart thundering. His heart rate didn’t budge, of course. The hot breath on my cheek was as calm as if he was helping Deano make a soufflé.

  ‘Right, Mais,’ Marc said. ‘Hand in hair – so. Other hand in small of back – so.’ He glanced round. ‘Now, this is where you go in for the kiss. And in case you were wondering, the right amount of girl-on-girl for a family audience doesn’t involve tongues.’

  ‘Oh dear. And I’d flossed specially.’

  Deano frowned at her. ‘Less sark, more notes, you. Chop chop.’ Maisie dutifully started scribbling on her pad.

  ‘You ready?’ Marcus muttered to me.

  ‘Yes.’ My answer came out more like a squeak.

  ‘So on stage, kisses are carefully choreographed. You just touch lips gently, then Maisie swings you round and you can separate. But, and this is the really important bit, you need to hold your position. The back of her head will block the audience’s view of your face so it’ll look like you’re still kissing.’

  ‘Sounds simple enough,’ I tried to say. The actual sound that came out was more of a ‘schmuff’.

  ‘Right, here we go.’ He pressed me close, and then his lips were on mine.

  He spun me round, and I waited for him to pull away. But he didn’t. He kept his mouth against mine, and I saw his eyes widen with a look of shock, and something like wonder, before falling closed.

  I tried to stop my lips parting, but it was no good. I felt the gentlest touch of his tongue, just brushing mine. It was like I was sinking, losing myself as I gave in and kissed him back…

  He drew away, and the spell was broken.

  ‘Um, Becks. What just happened?’ he whispered, his arms still tight around me.

  I pushed him away. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

  He blinked. ‘Me?’

  ‘That was not a stage kiss, Marc! That was… real.’

  Suddenly, I was angry. Angry with myself, for kissing Marcus. Angry with Marcus, for what he’d just made me feel. And… and for making me realise Cole had been right.

  ‘You kissed me!’ he said.

  ‘I was acting.’

  Maisie and Deano were staring at us, blinking in shock. But I didn’t have time for them.

  ‘Acting?’ Marc said. ‘Where in the script does it say to stick your tongue in my mouth?’

  ‘You started it!’

  ‘Ok, guys, let’s have some calm,’ Deano said, but we ignored him.

  ‘Becky…’ Marcus reached for my hand, but I jerked it away. ‘Please. Let’s go somewhere and talk about this.’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it. I want to forget about it. Ok? Just… keep your lips away from me.’

  ‘Look, I know you feel guilty about Cole, but we can’t just –’

  ‘Don’t you dare talk to me about Cole!’ I yelled, my voice echoing off the Temp’s lofty rafters.

  Deano blinked. ‘Woah.’

  ‘You’re the reason he’s gone,’ I shouted at Marcus, all the grief, all the anger I felt towards myself spilling out in his direction. ‘And no sooner is he out the door then you… we…’ Unable to hold back my tears any longer, I burst
into sobs.

  ‘Hey.’ Maisie approached and rested a gentle hand on my shoulder. ‘Come on, honey, let me take you home. You need to calm down.’

  ‘Stay away from me, Marc,’ I gasped. I shrugged off Maisie’s hand. ‘All of you. Just… leave me alone.’ Sweeping a frightened-looking Deano to one side, I stormed out of the hall.

  ***

  Back at home, I threw myself down on mine and Cole’s bed and let my rage dissipate in a fit of cathartic tears. My eyelids were like golf balls by the time I’d finally got it all out.

  I knew I’d been unfair on Marcus. I’d kissed him just as much as he’d kissed me. All my grief about Cole leaving, all my guilt at being drawn into a kiss so soon after, all my confused feelings about my panto co-star and my ex-fiancé, had exploded in one big emotion bomb. And Marc was the one who’d got caught in the shrapnel.

  And then there was the kiss itself. I didn’t know how to feel about it – how I was allowed to feel. On the one hand I felt guilty, because even though Cole and I had broken up, it still felt like a betrayal to move on so quickly. On the other, I felt… well, pleased. Elated, if I was being brutally honest. Because Marc had kissed me back, which meant the feelings I’d unconsciously been developing over the months spent working on the panto were reciprocated.

  But I had a migraine from crying, and Cole was on his way to say a last goodbye, and I couldn’t process all the myriad emotions fighting each other for dominance.

  What I did know was that I owed Marc an apology.

  I tapped out a text.

  Sorry. Broke up with Cole last week, you probably gathered. Shouldn’t have taken it out on you.

  It buzzed immediately with a reply.

  Becks, we need to talk. Can I come over?

  God, that was the last thing I needed. It was going to be painful enough seeing Cole again. I didn’t have the emotional strength to sort through my Marcus feelings as well. Turning the phone off, I stuffed it back in my pocket.

  When I felt sufficiently calm I started packing up Cole’s things, musing on the remnants of our life together, the paintings in his attic studio. Some were finished, others barely begun.