Much Ado About Sweet Nothing
Page 6
‘One boy and one girl.’
Danny shakes his head. ‘I feel sorry for women police. Those uniforms are so unflattering.’
‘I know. Have you seen the sort of weird tool belt thing they make them wear now?’
Danny nods. ‘Horrendous.’
‘I have no idea what you are talking about.’ Ben is looking at us like we’re speaking a foreign language.
‘The belt? With all the stuff on it. Makes them look like they’ve got about a sixty inch waist?’
Ben looks at me. ‘I know they were definitely both wearing clothes.’
‘Great. What if we’d been victims of crime? What if you were having to describe your attacker?’
He grins. ‘I’d definitely know whether they were naked.’
‘Great.’
‘Well that’s useful, isn’t it? They’d want to know if I’d been attacked by a naked person. That would probably be important. A naked man wandering down The Shambles. They’d be dead easy to find.’
I decide not to encourage this line of thought. ‘Anyway, despite the whole incident being his fault, I still got a fine notice thingy.’
‘How much?’
‘Eighty quid.’
‘And you’re a convicted felon? Marked as a wrong ‘un for all eternity?’
Ben laughs. I don’t see why it’s funny. ‘It’s not a conviction. It’s not even an admission of guilt. It’s just their way of going, we ought to do something, but we can’t be arsed to go the whole hog.’
‘It was humiliating.’
‘It was hysterical.’
‘They weren’t even proper police.’
Danny looks at us. Ben explains. ‘Community Support Officers.’
Danny shakes his head. ‘This is very disappointing. I send you two out into the world, and you can’t even manage to get nicked properly.’
Ben hangs his head. ‘We’re very sorry. We’ll try harder next time.’
Danny pats him on the shoulder. ‘That’s my boy.’
‘I still don’t see why it’s funny.’
‘Oh come on. You get into an argument about …’ He pauses and looks at Ben.
‘Cellular slime mould.’
‘Right. You get into an argument about mould so heated that the police are called. That’s funny.’
‘When they first came, I think they thought Ben was some sort of abusive ex or something.’
‘What?’
‘She asked me all this stuff about whether you were hassling me.’
‘Well, thank you for not throwing me to the wolves.’ Ben actually sounds sincere.
‘Don’t think I wasn’t tempted.’
Danny laughs. ‘Eighty quid for a row about slime mould.’
Ben grins. ‘Eighty each. A hundred and sixty all told.’
I can feel a giggle rising up. ‘It’s not funny.’
I let out a snort of laughter between the words ‘not’ and ‘funny’ which may undermine the sentiment.
Danny has started stirring the sauce again. It’s quarter past nine. I think he was intending to serve food about an hour ago.
‘Do you think we should maybe eat without him?’ I ask.
Danny looks at me, but doesn’t respond.
‘We can put some to one side for John.’
Danny smiles, without it quite making it to his eyes. ‘Of course we will. He can catch up when he gets back.’
Danny gets some plates out from the back of the cupboard and puts one down in front of me. It has a picture of Winnie-the-Pooh on it and a big chip in the corner.
‘Nice plate.’
‘Joke present from someone, I think.’
Ben holds up his plate, which has holly leaves all around the rim. ‘Well that explains owning it. What’s the excuse for using them?’
Danny shrugs. ‘Your fault. If you had plates that weren’t salvaged from a skip at your place, then little brother wouldn’t have had to nick all my good stuff for his hot date, would he?’
‘He didn’t?’
Danny nods.
‘What’s wrong with my plates?’
Now that’s one I can answer. ‘Nothing at all, if you’re studying the development and fossilization of bacteria.’
‘That’s not fair. I wash up.’
‘When?’
‘When I run out of plates.’
‘Exactly. I think Henrietta may have higher plate standards than your flat can really fulfil.’
‘Well, I can’t be blamed if Claudio wants to create some unrealistic romantic deception …’
‘Deception?’
‘Deception. How’s she going to feel when she finds out those aren’t even his plates? Not his plates, she’ll think, what else is he hiding?’
‘That’s ridiculous.’
‘Romance is ridiculous.’
‘And I’m going to stop you there.’ Danny jumps in before I can respond, and starts to pile chilli on to the offending cartoon plates. Ben tops up everyone’s glasses. We start to tuck in. Every now and then I take a glimpse at Ben and am very happy to see his face getting redder and his eyes start to glisten with the strength of the chilli.
Henrietta
Main course is spaghetti carbonara, which Claudio says is his mum’s recipe. He brings it out in a big pasta bowl, and then dishes some into a smaller bowl for me. Then he dishes some more on top and grates a mountain of parmesan over it, before he sits down and serves his own. It’s one of the biggest portions of food I’ve ever seen. I have to eat it all, because he cooked it, but I don’t want to look like horrible pig.
‘You don’t have to eat all that.’
‘What?’
‘I gave you quite a lot, didn’t I? Don’t worry. You don’t have to eat it all if you don’t want to.’
I feel like he can read my mind. I don’t think I’ve ever felt like someone else was so in tune with me and what I’m thinking. I pick up my spoon and fork, and start to curl the spaghetti around my fork, trying to copy the way that Claudio holds the end of his fork against the spoon. I can feel him watching me.
‘You’re really good at that.’
‘You sound like you’re disappointed?’
‘No.’ He’s still looking at me. ‘Is it OK?’
I nod. He’s still watching me. I can feel my cheeks getting pink.
‘Good. You’re very cute when you eat.’
I’m not. I’m all clumsy and uncoordinated. ‘Thank you.’
I need to think of something to say to distract him from me eating. I can’t think of anything clever. ‘Did Ben tell you about last night?’
He nods. ‘I can’t believe those two. They need to get it on, and get over it.’
That makes me giggle. ‘I’m not sure Trix wants to get it on with Ben.’
‘Oh come on.’ Claudio shakes his head. ‘They’re insane about each other.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely. You don’t spend that much time arguing with someone you hate.’
‘But you wouldn’t fight that much with someone you like.’
Claudio laughs.
‘Don’t laugh at me!’ I know I don’t understand things. I can feel myself going red again.
‘Sorry. I’m not laughing at you. You’re right.’ He smiles. ‘We shouldn’t fight, because of them.’
I can feel my bottom lip starting to shake.
‘Hey! Don’t be sad. This isn’t going well if I’ve made you sad.’
I shake my head. ‘Not sad.’
He gets up from his chair and walks round the table and kneels alongside me, like someone about to propose. Obviously, he’s not about to propose. You’d have to be mad to propose on a second date. ‘So you’re not sad?’
I shake my head again.
‘That’s a shame.’
‘Why?’
He reaches out and takes hold of my hand. There are tingles running all the way up my arm. I can feel myself starting to smile, without my brain ever knowingly telling my muscles what
to do. ‘Well, if you were sad I’d have to find a way to make you happy.’
Oh.
‘But you’re not sad so I’ll just go back over there then.’ He nods his head towards the other side of the table. He starts to stand up.
‘I might be a bit sad.’
He kneels back down. ‘Really?’
I nod.
He lets go of my hand and touches my cheek, turning my face towards him. Time seems to slow down as he leans towards me. The closer he gets the faster I can feel myself breathing. Just as his lips are about to touch mine, I close my eyes, and then I feel his mouth over mine. His lips are so soft and so warm, and he’s firm but gentle, and I feel like I’m melting away, and just for a second I’m not thinking about anything at all. Just for a second I’m not worried about being too fat, or too clumsy, or too stupid. I’m just quiet and still and living completely in this one moment. And then he slowly pulls away.
‘Happier now?’
I nod.
He smiles his beautiful, sexy smile. ‘Good.’
He glances down at the floor for a second. ‘We should eat. It’ll get cold, and the pasta will go all claggy.’
I pull my brain out of the kiss enough to make words. ‘That sounds nasty.’
‘It is. Very bad news indeed.’
‘Claggy being the technical Italian term?’
‘Nope. Claggy being the technical Yorkshire term. Still true though.’
He kisses me quickly on the forehead and lifts himself off the floor and back into his seat.
Claudio
Kiss. Check.
This is going all right. She’s eating the food, although she did look a bit horrified when I put it in front of her. Mental note - she’s a tiny little English waif, not an Italian Mama. Adjust portion sizes accordingly.
And the kiss. The kiss was good. There’s no mistaking that we’re on the same page now. I didn’t want to stop, but there’s a plan for the evening, and I’m sticking to it. Tiramisu before anything else. Ben’ll be well pissed off if he finds out he spent all afternoon making it, and we never even ate it.
Right. Time to roll out another conversation topic. ‘So how are things at work?’
‘Ok. We had a good start to the art competition when Ben came. Now I just have to try to get people to enter.’
‘So what do they actually have to do?’
‘A piece of art based on, or inspired by, the concept of Zero. To be judged in three age categories, by celebrity mathematician Dr Ben Messina.’ She recites it, like a kid reading off a card.
‘Celebrity mathematician?’
‘Trix made me put that.’ Her brow furrows like it always does when she’s anxious. ‘I don’t think Ben was very happy about it.’
‘He’ll get over it. Can you even be a celebrity mathematician?’
‘Well there’s the book about the French guy with the theorem in the margin.’
‘Fermat?’ How do I even know that? I really need to stop living with my brother.
She nods. ‘And then there’s …’
‘Yes?’
‘Well, there’s a thing on Channel 5 with this FBI agent and his brother’s a genius mathematician or something. And they solve crime together.’
‘Without seeing it, I’m going to guess they’re actors?’
She nods. ‘Maybe.’
‘So, Ben is the second best known mathematician out of a group of two, one of whom is a dead Frenchman.’
She giggles. ‘I think so.’
‘It doesn’t look like the paparazzi are going to be hanging round outside the flat anytime soon.’
‘What about you?’
‘What?’
‘What about your work?’
‘Well, I’m not working at the moment.’ Which I’m not going to pretend I couldn’t get used to, especially as Ben isn’t working much right now either, but still has enough cash to order takeaway and go to the pub. We’ve adapted quite well to a toast, takeaway and beer based lifestyle.
‘I know but what next? You said you might go back to college, or are you going to work over here or …?’
She tails off. This probably means it’s my turn to talk. I don’t.
‘Sorry. It’s none of my business, is it? Sorry.’
‘No. No. It’s fine. I just haven’t really … there are a few different …’ I’m not explaining this well. ‘Dessert.’
‘What?’
‘We should have dessert.’
She looks lost. ‘Ok.’
‘Wait there.’ I try a smile before I grab the pasta bowls and head back into the kitchen. I need a minute. What am I planning to do? Well, I’m not totally sure. That’s not true. I am totally sure. I’m going back to Naples. I’ve been offered a permanent job in Italy, and I love Naples, and I love the Amalfi Coast, and I did think about trying to get in as a mature student to do Geology at university, but if I did that it would be years of undergraduate study and then, if I was lucky, I might get on to a postgrad programme, that included vulcanology and I might possibly, if I was unbelievably lucky, get a research job that involved fieldwork out on a volcano. Doing tours I can be enjoying the Italian sun, earning decent money, and living in the shadow of the only active volcano on mainland Europe.
So why am I freaking out about telling this girl that? It’s only a second date, really a first date if you think about it. We’re not talking happy ever after. We’re dealing with what happens between us tonight, or maybe for the next few weeks. After that isn’t even on the agenda yet. So I’ll just tell her I’m probably going back to Naples. No big deal.
I get the tiramisu out of the fridge, and head back into the living room. I put my smile back on.
‘I hope you like tiramisu.’
She nods.
‘Excellent.’ I put one bowl down in front of her and sit down myself. ‘Sorry about before …’
‘No. It’s none of my business.’
‘It’s fine. It’s just that …’
She looks up at me. Her eyes are massive, probably the biggest eyes I’ve ever seen. She looks like a Disney character. She thinks I’m staying in Yorkshire. She thinks I’ve re-applied to Leeds to do Geology, and I did look at the website and I looked at the student finance website too. I did think about it.
‘I don’t think going to university is really for me.’
‘So you’re going to get a job then?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Cool.’
Well, it’s true. I haven’t lied. She didn’t ask me where the job was, so it’s all fine.
‘Is the tiramisu good?’
She hasn’t actually started it. She takes a quick spoonful and nods with her mouth full.
‘Good. Do you want to hear a confession?’
‘Ok.’ She sounds uncertain.
‘Ben made it.’
‘He did a good job.’
‘I know it’s really easy, but mine always comes out as a big soggy mess.’ It feels good to be telling her the truth, like lightening a weight.
‘It’s nice.’
We eat in silence for a few minutes. The stereo is playing Aretha Franklin in the background. I Say a Little Prayer comes on.
‘Do you want to dance?’
She looks a bit surprised. ‘Here?’
‘Where else?’
‘Ok.’
I stand up and take her hand. She stands up in front of me and for a second we just stand there, only touching with our fingers, before I snake my arm around her waist and lift her hand so it’s resting against my chest. I start to move with the music. I love this anticipation. It’s like going fishing and getting that very first bite. Only better. Much, much better. I pull her closer into my body, and then realise that, because I’m so much taller than her, I can’t kiss her without stepping back. I can’t step back straight away, cos I’ve only just pulled her close, so I keep dancing pressed against her for the rest of the song.
When the song ends I move so I can bend down to kiss her. I h
ave to remind myself to keep it gentle, romantic. I’ve put a lot of energy into creating the right atmosphere tonight. We stand there kissing for a long time, until I put both my arms around her waist and lift her up, so her feet are off the ground and I’m holding her against me in my arms. She wraps both arms around my neck, and I can feel her fingers in my hair. Then I start to move very slowly towards the bedroom. Just before the door I pause, and pull my face away from hers.
‘Is this OK?’
She nods.
I push the bedroom door open with my foot, and kick it closed behind us.
Henrietta
The bedroom door slams and the brakes are released. All at once I’m pulling at his shirt and he’s dragging my skirt up and sliding his hand across my bum. I feel his hand slide under the elastic of my knickers and I’m glad I didn’t wear my big tummy squashing pants in the end. I drag his jacket off, and he pulls his hand back to help me with his shirt buttons. His torso is amazing, tanned and muscular. I brush my lips over his chest and hear him groan before he pulls me back to my feet and presses his mouth against mine. One arm wraps tightly around my waist and the other is back on my behind, pulling my skirt out of the way and dragging at my knickers. I push them down my thighs and let them drop to the floor before reaching for his belt. I fumble with it, struggling to make my hands work with the distraction of his searching fingers reaching between my thighs. His erection is hard under the fabric, and I’m hungry to get his belt and fly undone, but he won’t release me from the kiss. I’m not behaving like me. I like lights out, and foreplay and gentle, quiet men who take their time. But tonight I don’t care about any of that. I’m inside this moment, frantic for more.
I push his trousers and boxers down. Straight away he wraps both arms around my waist and pulls me off my feet. Instinctively my legs wrap around him. I can feel him hard, already on the edge of being inside me. He carries me a couple of paces until I’m leant against the wall. Suddenly he pauses. He pulls back from the kiss and moves his lips against my ear. ‘One second.’
I unhook my legs and he lowers me to the ground. He kicks his trousers and boxers from his ankles and steps to the chest of drawers. He grabs a condom from the top drawer, and hurriedly puts it on. I can hear myself breathing. Within seconds he’s pressed against me again, lifting me off my feet, pinning my back against the wall. He enters me in one thrust and I gasp as he fills me, bending my head into his shoulder and breathing hard against his body. He angles me so I can rest one foot on a chair next to the wall and thrusts hard and fast into me. I feel every inch of him entering me and I let the waves of pleasure take over. I don’t think and try to do and be anything. I just let him make me come. As I moan into his chest I feel his body tighten and then relax into one final thrust.