by Rosa Temple
Chapter 25
I can’t believe it’s the second publication of Bridley Green with me as Editor. I also can’t believe I’ve been in Bridley long enough to stop missing London so much. Sure, I can’t pop out for a late night takeaway when I want to, but that can only be a good thing. Healthwise, I’m sure my skin and hair are benefiting from the change in air and water. Everything in Bridley seems so clean and fresh, I’m sure I’ve added ten years to my life expectancy from not breathing in London air. I can see the stars at night and I’ve gotten used to the fact that people shoot birds around here. I thought we were under siege last week. Rifles were going off in the distance and flocks of birds were randomly swooping up into the air, flying away at speed. Carey was the one who told me it was pheasant hunting season and that it went on until the end of January. It’s now November and I still haven’t worked out a suitable escape strategy for the birds, so I’ve accepted their fate as much as they have.
Jenna comes into my office after sorting out the delivery crew, the magazines are out for distribution and she wants to celebrate with karaoke again.
‘The magazine is out for another month and all is well with the world,’ she says with a smile. ‘So, seven o’clock at The Crown?’
Jenna’s Wedding Blog is especially funny this month. It involves her adventures buying a wedding dress. We’d had every local wedding dress supplier and those from neighbouring counties advertising in the magazine this month. Mags had done a tremendous job selling advertising space. In fact, she’d achieved a record figure and Alexandra had bought expensive chocolates and flowers for her. Wedding suppliers had cottoned on to the new wedding blog which received lots of positive feedback from readers. I had no idea that there were so many wedding venues in this part of the country. Not surprising, given how beautiful it is. Even in winter it seems magical and with cold November nights drawing in, I’m loving the idea of getting cosy in the living room at Carey’s in front of the open fire.
‘The Crown it is,’ I say to Jenna. ‘We can make a tradition of it.’ Then I remember I’m only here until January, they’ll have to carry on the tradition without me. I am at least happy that when I do leave the staff here won’t remember me as the drunk, lazy slouch who stumbled into their office all those weeks ago. I was a nervous, ill-equipped leader who was running away from a failed relationship she couldn’t face up to. Whilst most of that is still true now, at least at work I’ve turned things around. They’ve seen my dynamic side. The side of me that tells me I can be a good leader, a good journalist and a bloody good editor once I put my mind to it. Everyone has commented on how great it is to work for me. So, my private life is total crap, but I am hoping to remedy that by going on a date with Damian.
With publication coming around so fast and everyone being busy trying to pull together a more exciting magazine than last month’s, no one noticed the Dear Vicky letter I’d published and that my motive was to get a date from it as a result.
My response to Damian read like this:
Dear Anon
I was moved by your very heartfelt letter. No one knows more than me about love from afar, so I feel your pain. Very often, in my experience of these things, the person you are pining after has actually been trying to show you signs that they care about you. But sometimes life (or death) gets in the way. Stop being patient with the woman you admire. It is time for you to act. Maybe someone is stopping you. Someone who wishes to possess you and control your every move. Break free from these chains and go and tell that woman you are interested and that you want to take her out. She will love that you just went for it and you are likely to get the outcome you so desperately need and deserve.
Don’t wait another day. Go and tell her your true feelings. I believe in my heart of hearts that honesty is the best policy and that love will save the day.
Love Vicky
Love will save the day? It’s the part of the letter that really makes me cringe, but I couldn’t exactly say that the object of his desire is horny and that she wants to have a date that leads to sex and then see where it goes after that. He is obviously very keen to go out with me, so I don’t want him to think I’m the type of girl who is only after a one-night stand. I might not be ready for a full-on relationship but a fling will go a long way to helping me get my mojo back.
Bridley Green is now in circulation and very soon Damian will read the answer to my letter. Just as a precaution I decide to stop off at the coffee shop on the way home to drop a big hint to Damian that I’ll be at The Crown later for Karaoke Night.
The only problem with this plan is that the coffee shop closes at six and it’s six thirty when I leave the office after a long brain storming session with Jenna and Beth about next month’s magazine. It’s the December issue and we needed to do something spectacular for the festive season. It’s only as I puff my way up the hill to the coffee shop that I realise the time. What is it about me trying to get with Damian that the ether isn’t understanding? But my luck is in. I spot a light still on and the Closed sign isn’t up yet.
I push open the door hoping to see Damian and not Mrs Gallagher, the mothership of doom, but he’s not there. At first, I think they’ve left in a hurry and forgot to lock up and then I spot him. Jed. He’s sitting at a corner table reading a copy of Bridley Green. My first thought is: Shit.
‘Good evening,’ he says before I can change my mind and leave. That bell over the door is a dead giveaway so I can’t slink off and pretend I was never here.
‘Evening,’ I reply politely.
I have a brilliant idea to pretend I’ve left my purse at the office so I can leave quickly but the door behind the counter opens and Damian is standing there. He smiles his usual broad and seductive smile and I can’t move a muscle.
‘What brings you in here so late?’ he asks. ‘I’ve missed you the past few mornings. You haven’t come in for your batch of pastries.’
Jed clears his throat.
‘The pastries weren’t all for me,’ I bark at Jed. I don’t know why I’m being so aggressive but something about him winds me up the wrong way. I spin round so fast to glare at him I feel something ping in my neck.
Both brothers look at me curiously and I wish I hadn’t come in. I can feel my skin prickle and I will my cheeks not to go red.
‘Oh, I’m always so busy I don’t always have time to stop by,’ I say gathering an idea to make me look less ridiculous in their eyes. ‘Just like now. I’m in a rush and I haven’t got time to cook because the staff invited me to The Crown tonight for karaoke. Thought I’d see if you had any sandwiches left over and maybe a little something sweet.’
‘Let’s see,’ Damian says drawing out that dark, sexy voice of his. ‘We’re supposed to be closed so there won’t be anything fresh.’ He leans into the display cabinet and rescues one of two dismal looking sandwiches. ‘I’ve got roast vegetable and goats cheese on ciabatta or chorizo and tomato on ciabatta? Still feels relatively fresh but don’t give me a bad review if it’s not up to much. At least I warned you.’
I giggle like a schoolgirl.
‘And for something sweet it’s just apple turnovers I’m afraid. They got a bit burnt on the edges, so I had a hard time shifting them today. Tell you what, take both sandwiches and a couple of apple turnovers.’ As he speaks, he is wrapping up the food and casually plopping them into a paper carrier bag. ‘On the house,’ he says and places the bag on the counter.
I have no choice but to reach for it and be on my way. My lame attempt to lure him out for the night has been sabotaged by his evil brother whose presence has put me off my game. Since I walked in, he’d put the magazine down and hasn’t taken his eyes off me. I can feel his glare. I’m a babbling mess in front of Damian and not for the first time. How this man could ever fancy me I have no idea. But I know he does and I know Damian is too shy to ask me out. Before I know it I’ll be heading back to London, so it’s now or never with Damian. How can I move on with my life if I can’t move into a new
relationship?
‘Are you sure about this, Damian? I really should pay.’ I employ a stalling tactic to see if I can salvage the operation.
‘Just take it,’ Jed says from the corner. ‘You know you want to.’
This time I can’t stop the blushes. Jed is unbearable. He has so far managed to ruin every encounter I’ve had with him. Okay it’s only the second time I’ve met him but that’s 100% of our encounters. Why did he have to be here? What with Damian’s pushy mother and his creep of a brother, this relationship looks like a non-starter.
‘Yes, yes, you’re right. I do want to. Damian’s food is yummy.’ Yummy? I take the bag of stale food and smile. ‘This will do the trick. Might let Carey share these with me. I’ll see if she wants to come out tonight with me. To the Karaoke Night. At The Crown.’ Okay, so now I’ve said the word karaoke twice and still Damian doesn’t bite. I back away and wave from the door. Damian smiles and waves back. Jed casts a dark and growling shadow in the corner and has gone back to the magazine. I don’t bother to wave at him.
Carey isn’t interested in the old food from Damian’s, but she is, however, keen to come to Karaoke Night. It’s good to go out socially with Carey. Our night out at Frankie’s, having a drunken dance around our handbags and giggling all the way home in Alistair’s taxi, has made us close again. I giggled at how much Alistair’s taxi smelled of hay and manure and at how glad I was to be too pissed for it to affect me that much. That’s when Carey revealed that Alistair was the small animals vet in the area as well as the local taxi service. His dad being the large animals vet sent me into such a spin of laughter I lost control. But it just felt so good to laugh. I was looking forward to more nights like that but with slightly less booze and with the promise of going back to Damian’s after.
I put on an extra layer of mascara and spray on a generous amount of perfume. Carey is looking gorgeous in skinny jeans and high ankle boots. She wears a fake fur jacket and we leave the house as soon as Alistair beeps the car horn outside. I wonder what his Jeep will smell of tonight and I’m glad I’ve been heavy handed with the perfume.
‘You didn’t eat your sandwich,’ Carey says as she closes the front door.
‘My stomach couldn’t handle a stale loaf of bread.’
‘But still. It’s something to soak up the alcohol. You haven’t eaten.’
‘I’ll get some crisps at the pub. Come on.’ I link Carey’s arm and we teeter in our heels in the chilled air towards the Jeep.
‘Evening,’ Alistair says and I burst out laughing as I open the back door for Carey. She suppresses a chuckle but I’m on the lookout for a bale of hay or tiny piglet with a pig related malady.
‘I’m not singing anything,’ Carey reminds me as we push open the heavy door to the pub.
‘Chill,’ I say. ‘You probably won’t get a chance. Jenna will have signed up for all the slots by now anyway.’
‘Really?’
I don’t have to answer. Front and centre on the stage is Jenna, grinding away to Crazy In Love. I laugh to myself about how this is probably the closest Bridley will ever get to having Beyoncé perform here. Bridley is hardly the epicentre of culture but it certainly is a warm and friendly place. A number of people nod at me as I enter. Andy, the chef from Frankie’s is here and so is Ruthie. They are with a group of chatty friends and look very cosy sitting next to each other. Andy is as wide as Ruthie is petite but something about them seems to come together and I’m getting a good vibe off them.
‘Night off?’ I say leaning towards them.
‘Yes. For a change I get to go out,’ Andy says turning to Ruthie who smiles up at me and Carey.
‘This is my friend, Carey,’ I say to their table even though most of them are deep in conversation. The word friend comes easily to me. It’s how I feel about Carey. She is a friend. A good friend. We exchange waves and smiles and I do a scan of the pub to see who is here.
‘Busy night,’ Ruthie calls but my eyes have landed on Damian at the bar and I barely acknowledge her comment before dragging Carey away by the arm, marching her over to the bar.
‘I’m buying,’ I say, shoving a short guy in cargo trousers aside so we can squeeze in. I sidle up as close as I can get to Damian without being obvious just as Beyoncé, I mean Jenna, finishes her song. Damian turns to clap and doesn’t acknowledge my arrival. I’m sure he will have read the problem page and he has surely picked up on the green light from Dear Vicky’s response, not to mention the unofficial invitation to The Crown. He’s obviously playing it cool. Which I admire. As long as he’s not too cool.
I order a bottle of wine for me and Carey and can’t help noticing the empty bar stool next to Damian and a second glass of beer on the counter being unattended. Who the hell has he come with I wonder? A wing man? It’s just as well Carey agreed to come because I can always palm her off on him while Damian and I go about the business of planning our date.
Just then Damian notices me and smiles. I move in closer, leaving Carey to pick up the wine bottle, both glasses and to pay for it, too. I will pay her back but I’m aware of the need to strike while the iron is hot.
Damian is casually dressed in a sweatshirt that is fraying at the collar and a pair of black jeans. He is probably wearing the Timberland boots he always seems to wear. And they suit him, too.
‘Well you didn’t get food poisoning then?’ he says. Probably not the most romantic of things to say but it is at least an opener.
‘I didn’t think I would, not with you cooking anyway.’
‘I’m glad.’
Glad? Glad to see me? Glad I hadn’t died of food poisoning?
‘What’s everyone so glad about?’ I’m surprised by the low voice by my ear. I turn to see Jed. He is the wing man for the night. I can’t believe my bad luck.
Chapter 26
Oh crap. This isn’t the way the evening is supposed to go. I’m supposed to ride off into the sunset with Damian and my heart is supposed to start healing. I don’t know what it is about Jed that makes me so emotional. It’s not as if he does anything in particular but he’s so negative and so annoying and so here that I’m completely derailed and I don’t know what to do. At the moment, the four of us are playing eye ping-pong. As the common denominator I suppose I should make the introductions, but I don’t want to be part of a conversation that involves Jed. So I do this. I smile, grab Carey by her arm once again and drag her through the busy pub away from the brothers. In passing I say to Damian that the magazine folk are by the stage. He doesn’t quite know what to do with that information. He might take it as his cue to follow us over. I want him to follow us over but not with Jed. Maybe he’ll hang around until the perfect opportunity for us to talk arises. I’m hoping Jed will leave. He’s good at walking out of places without so much as a ‘by your leave’.
‘Er, what was all that about?’ Carey says when we’re part way to the Bridley Green staff table.
‘What?’ I say. I stop because I realise I’m leading Carey around as if she’s under arrest. ‘Sorry,’ I say unhanding her. ‘I just needed to get away.’
‘From those two? They seem nice. That’s the other brother isn’t it?’
‘Yes, that’s him.’ I look past Carey’s shoulder at Jed. He’s laughing about something with Damian. It better not be me. ‘Come on. I’ll introduce you to everyone.’
The staff table is lively and completely occupied. Jenna has brought her fiancé, Mags has a female friend along and both Bartie and Jack have brought what could be their dates. Jack has his arm around his female companion. Beth sits and chats to Mags and her friend. We’re too close to the speakers to hear all the introductions but Carey puts our wine down and sources a couple of stools so we prop ourselves onto the end of the table.
‘I’ve put your name down this time, Sydney,’ Jenna calls across the voices and the music. Someone is crooning a Frank Sinatra song. It’s a lot busier in here than last time and a lot more animated.
‘What’s up?’ Carey as
ks me. ‘You look as if someone just walked over your grave.’
I get closer to Carey and cup my hand over my mouth to answer. Partly because our table is being a little too loud for the Frank Sinatra singer on stage and partly because I don’t know if Damian can lip read.
‘The last thing I want to do tonight is sing.’
‘But you were the one who was mad keen to come to karaoke.’
‘I know but I was hoping to hook up with someone tonight and I don’t want to put them off by singing.’
Carey does a sweep around the pub, her forehead slowly knotting as she looks back at me.
‘Who on earth do you want to get off with in here?’ Then she takes big inhale, mouth wide as the penny drops. ‘You mean the one from the bar. The brother.’
‘That’s right. But his brother is here and that makes it a bit awkward. And my chances of getting off with him get slimmer the second I get up there and open my mouth.’
‘Look, karaoke is just a bit of fun. You remember My Best Friend’s Wedding? Julia Roberts tried to put Dermot what’s-his-face off Cameron Diaz by making her sing in front of him. She was awful, but Dermot loved her all the more for it.’
‘You are completely right.’ I take several sips of wine, trying to be relaxed enough to go and make a complete fool of myself in front of Damian.
‘Easy,’ Carey says as I pour us some more wine.
‘I better go and choose a song. I don’t know when I’m up. It could be any minute.’ I dart off to the Karaoke Night crew’s table and start looking through their repertoire on a laptop. Every now and again I stare across at Damian and, I know I’m not imagining it, he is focused in this direction. So far so good.
