Christmas at the Dog & Duck

by Jill Steeples

  Anyway, I wasn’t here to be mooning over that man. Definitely not. I shook my head to rid my brain of all things Max Golding. I was here to help out my friend Polly and to vet Rob as potential new boyfriend material. Concentrate Ellie. I peered closer at Rob, dropping my head to one side to get a different view. Nope. That didn’t help either. However hard I tried I just couldn’t warm to him. Maybe Polly saw something in him that I was clearly missing?

  ‘So Rob, what about when you’re not working. What do you like to do then?’ I asked, brightly.

  For the last fifteen minutes he’d been telling us about his job as manager of the carpet section in a large department store, which would have been fine had he not got sidetracked on the detail along the way. He proceeded to tell us all about the virtues of the extensive range of flooring he sold. You name it, he was an expert in it. Wool, synthetic, tufted, woven – the man was a veritable walking encyclopaedia when it came to carpet, and that was before he got started on wooden and laminate flooring. Who knew there was so much to discover about flooring, well apart from Rob, obviously. I think we were all desperate to get him onto another subject before we capitulated and put down a deposit on a high pile shag. Anything had to be better than discussing the merits of flooring.

  ‘Fishing. I love it.’ Oh dear lord, how wrong could I be? ‘There’s some lovely spots around here for night-fishing. You need the right bait of course. I like to use…’

  ‘How about we head off to the Dog and Duck for a nightcap,’ said Johnny, banging his hands down on the table, making us all jump to attention. Judging by Polly’s slightly startled expression, I suspected we were all in need of a change of scene and a livener.

  ‘Well, if you don’t mind,’ said Rob, addressing me and Johnny directly, ‘it’s been an absolute pleasure meeting you, but I was wondering, Polly, if you’d like to come back to mine for a coffee. So we can get to know each other a bit better.’

  ‘Oh…’ Polly’s eyes clouded in alarm, as her gaze darted from me to Johnny. I could have sworn that a little speech bubble appeared at the side of her head. Help! Her mouth gaped open, making a false start as the words failed to materialize. Eventually, she managed to form some sort of coherent sentence. ‘It’s been lovely, but I’ve got an early start in the morning, so I ought to go back with Ellie and Johnny. You’re welcome to join us for a quick drink though, if you’d like to?’

  ‘Fair enough,’ said Rob, his mouth curling in disappointment, as though he’d almost closed a deal on a big sale, but had failed at the last moment. He stood up and pulled on his jacket. ‘Some other time perhaps. I won’t come for a drink – pubs aren’t really my scene.’

  The collective sharp intake of breath from the rest of us couldn’t have been worse if Rob had admitted he killed puppies in his spare time.

  ‘Doesn’t like pubs!’ said Johnny in mock outrage later as we walked home through the town, our arms linked with Polly’s. ‘What’s that all about?’

  ‘Must admit it’s a bit weird, isn’t it?’ I said in agreement. ‘He’s clearly never been to The Dog and Duck.’

  Polly gave a heartfelt sigh. ‘To be honest, I think that was the least of his problems. Gawd, he was a bit dull, wasn’t he? Really I don’t know how I pick them. He seemed so lovely and charming when I spoke to him before. Sometimes I wonder if I’m a bit desperate. It’s such a novelty to be asked out by a man that I don’t stop to think whether it’s actually a good idea or not. I was just glad you were both there with me, or else I might still be stuck with him talking about the benefits of loop pile carpets over twist pile or, god forbid, fishing bait.’

  ‘He wasn’t that bad,’ I said, trying to put a positive spin on the situation.

  Both Johnny and Polly stopped, dropped my arms and turned to look at me aghast.

  ‘Oh come on, Ellie,’ said Johnny, shaking his head. ‘Did you really want to find out more about the stain resistance properties of polypropylene?’

  I laughed and walked on. Polly and Johnny ran to catch me up, linking arms again. ‘Well, clearly Rob wasn’t the right man for you, Polly, but don't let one bad experience put you off. You never know the next man you go out on a date with might be the special one.’

  ‘Hmmm, I’m not sure I share your confidence,’ said Polly with a resigned sigh. ‘In fact, I think I’m probably done with dating. It’s too much hard work for too little reward.’

  Later, sitting on the bench in the snug bar of the pub with a fresh round of drinks in front of us, Polly continued to bemoan her single status. ‘The trouble is I think all the half-decent men in my small area of the world are spoken for.’

  ‘Cheers for that, Polly,’ said Johnny, shrugging his shoulders and looking forlornly into his beer.

  She giggled, and snuggled into his side, and he reciprocated with a friendly arm around her shoulder.

  ‘Oh, you don’t count, Johnny. You’re my friend. No, I mean fanciable men who are decent and honest, who aren’t arseholes or who aren’t deadly dull – after tonight, I think that might be even worse than being an idiot.’

  ‘Right, so what you’re saying is I don’t even qualify. I’m not sure whether to take that as a compliment or feel insulted instead.’

  Johnny who was sat between the two of us, pulled me into his other side and I rested my head on his shoulder. It felt perfectly natural to be together as friends with no other agenda hovering over us.

  ‘Ah well, at least we all have each other,’ I said, looking up at him. ‘Maybe Rob has a point though. Maybe it’s us who has the problem. You have to admit we spend far more time in here than is good for us. You don’t think we’re all wasting our lives away, drinking ourselves into a future of poverty and drunkenness.’

  ‘Blimey, Ells, you’re a little ray of sunshine tonight, aren’t you?’

  I laughed. ‘It’s just got me thinking that’s all. Where we’ll all be in ten years’ time? Five years even.’ I wasn’t sure if it was the wine or Polly’s palpable disappointment that had put me in a contemplative mood.

  ‘Oh, that’s easy,’ said Johnny. ‘You’ll be Financial Director of a top London firm with a hot-shot city lawyer husband. You’ll have three kids, a townhouse, a nanny, and you’ll holiday every year in the South of France. You’ll be far too busy and important to keep in touch with your old friends from home.’ Was that a hint of sadness I detected in Johnny’s voice?

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah, I can just imagine that,’ said Polly, damning me with her quick agreement, as though it wasn’t a huge leap of the imagination. ‘What about me?’

  ‘You’ll have a whole string of florists throughout the country,’ Johnny went on. ‘You’ll be wildly successful and only have to work a couple of days a week in your shop in Little Leyton just to keep your hand in. You’ll have a sweet little cottage in the village, a devoted husband and a baby on the way.’

  Polly sighed contentedly. ‘That sounds perfect. If you can see all of that in your crystal ball then clearly I have no need to worry. What about you, Johnny? What do you think you’ll be doing?’

  ‘Well, I’ll still have the business, but I’ll have thirty or forty people working for me. I’ll be spending most of my time building my own house – I’d love to do that. A barn conversion probably. I’ll still be in here most nights though and I’ll still be doing the pub quiz once a month.’

  ‘A barn conversion?’ said Polly. Her expression took on a dreamy quality. ‘That sounds amazing.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Johnny, ruffling my hair. ‘We won’t forget about you, sweetheart, even when you’re out there conquering the world, we’ll be here raising a glass to our high-flying friend.’

  I peered into my beer, a stirring of disquiet running along the length of my body. Inexplicably, I felt a twinge of sadness that they both thought I wouldn’t be here in Little Leyton in ten years’ time, that I’d be living a different kind of life somewhere else. Daft really, because how could any of us know what lay in our future. Th
e future Johnny spoke about for me was one I’d had planned out ever since I was a teenager at school. I’d wanted to be that high-flyer with the swanky London lifestyle. Only now, I wasn’t sure it was what I wanted after all. Especially hearing the words said aloud by Johnny. Could I really turn my back on everything I’d worked so hard for? My qualifications and my career? And how would it make my parents feel to know that the sacrifices they’d made for the sake of my education had all been for nothing?

  I closed my eyes, nestling my head further into the crook of Johnny’s neck and curled my arm around his waist. I didn’t want to think about it. Not now. I was more than content to savour the moment. The familiar sound of clinking glasses, animated chatter and laugher washed over me in a comforting haze.

  I could quite easily have fallen asleep there on Johnny’s chest without giving a second thought to my future. It was only when I became aware of someone standing over us, interrupting our cosy little threesome that my eyes flickered open. At eye level my gaze settled on a cream cable jumper – snug, warm, huggable – the scent of warm spices reached my nostrils just as my brain registered who, in fact, might be invading my senses in such an insistent way.

  My gaze travelled upwards and settled onto the mesmeric dark brown eyes of Max Golding. Mesmeric dark brown eyes that were glistening with amusement as they observed me closely. A stand-off that always seemed to be reached in the company of Mr Golding.

  ‘Hi Max,’ I said, shifting myself up in my seat, determined not to be distracted by those eyes. Instead, I attempted to rearrange my limbs into a semi-decent, nonchalant, sophisticated position. Impossible, I quickly realized, in my slightly squiffy laying-sprawled-across-Johnny’s-lap state.

  ‘Good evening?’ he asked, with a slight incline of his head, still holding on to that permanently amused expression of his that might, if it continued, begin to rile me.

  ‘Great, thank you.’

  ‘We’ve been on a double date,’ said Johnny, laughing, pulling both me and Polly closer in to his side.

  ‘Looks like a lot of fun,’ said Max, his dark eyebrows shifting imperceptibly.

  His gaze fell on mine and my skin prickled as the air closed in on me. I made my excuses and headed for the bathroom, leaving Max chatting to Johnny and Polly. There was something about that man that got beneath my skin, that made me feel vulnerable and exposed in his company. I needed to clear my head and – ugh – judging by the reflection that met me in the loo mirrors, I needed to do something about my hair too. I ran my hand through the wayward curls and wondered what had happened exactly in the period between leaving the house earlier this evening and now to turn my hair into such a disaster. The red glowing cheeks and the thundering heartbeat were all down to Max, but my hair was clearly working to its own agenda. No wonder Max had been sporting such an amused expression when he’d given me the once-over. In the mirror, I turned my head one way and then the other, attempting to flatten my hair down with my hands, but it made not the slightest difference. I sighed. Why was I even worried what Max Golding thought of me, he was just a distraction, a good-looking one admittedly, but one I could certainly do without at the moment. Best to put him completely out of mind and try to avoid him as much as I possibly could. Absolutely. Out of sight, out of mind. I pulled open the door of the loos and waltzed straight into the path of that damn cream cable jumper. Easier said than done obviously.

  ‘Oh hi,’ I said, silently reprimanding my body for immediately going into overdrive again. Either it had suddenly become very hot in here or else my body temperature was playing silly beggars again. The corridor at the back of the pub was narrow and tight for space, and the low beamed ceiling only added to the heady atmosphere closing in around me. If I reached out my hand it would be all too easy to feel the thickness of Max’s jumper for myself, to rub the fabric between my fingers, to explore and discover the bare skin beneath. Good grief! What on earth was wrong with me?

  Judging by Max’s worried expression, he was clearly thinking the same. He tilted his head to one side and his eyes narrowed with concern. ‘Are you all right. You look a bit…’

  I flapped my hands in front of my face. ‘I’m fine, it’s just a bit hot in here that’s all. Don’t you think?’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure you’re okay. It’s good seeing you again, Ellie.’

  ‘Yep, great.’

  I spread my arms back against the wall and Max squeezed past me, causing me to have a very close encounter with his lovely jumper. I dashed off, eager to get away now from Max Golding. That man was seriously damaging to my health.

  Back on the wooden bench, I declined Johnny’s offer of another glass of wine and instead opted for a thirst-quenching pint glass of lemonade. I needed to sober up and fast – think about getting home. First I leaned across Johnny and whispered to Polly. ‘What you were saying earlier about there being no decent men in Little Leyton? What about that Max? You said yourself how gorgeous he was. He’d make an ideal date, don’t you think?’

  I was half-hoping Polly might want to snag Max for herself then I wouldn’t be able to entertain improper thoughts about him.

  ‘Ugh! No.’ Polly pulled a face that might have been more fitting if I’d wafted rotten fish under her nose. ‘Obviously I can appreciate that he’s a very good-looking man, but he’s just too… too…’

  Johnny and I were hanging on to her every word.

  ‘Too what?’ we said in unison.

  ‘He’s too much. Too perfect. Too macho, too sophisticated, too charming.’ Polly rattled off Max’s lists of faults, or attributes, whichever way you might consider them, before pausing to give her reasoned argument some further consideration. ‘He’s just too much of everything. I couldn’t be doing with someone like that. Obviously I can appreciate, objectively, that he is a fine example of the male species. Lovely to swoon over and admire from afar, but you wouldn’t want to be in a relationship with him. I mean, have you seen the house he lives in?’

  I had seen the house he lived in, from a distance at least. It was jaw-droppingly awesome.

  ‘No, men like that are far too demanding,’ said Polly, warming to her subject. ‘You’d never be able to have an off day. You would have to be thin and lovely and witty and entertaining all the time. You’d be expected to hobnob with politicians and celebrities, rustle up gourmet dinners for his mates and then be a sexual goddess in bed.’

  ‘Nah, I expect he has a man to do that sort of thing for him for him,’ quipped Johnny.

  ‘WHAT?!’

  ‘A chef, that’s what I meant,’ Johnny said, chuckling. ‘A chef to rustle up his meals, not anything else.’

  ‘Right, well, whatever he’s got going on up at that house, I’m not sure I would want any part of it,’ Polly concluded.

  I laughed. I knew I’d been guilty of projecting an entire lifestyle onto Max, but I think Polly was taking it to an entirely different level. Johnny shook his head and rolled his eyes.

  ‘There’s no pleasing some people,’ he said. ‘You know, Polly, you should be more open to different people and situations. In your quest for love, perhaps you’re being a bit blinkered. Maybe you need to spread your net a little wider.’

  ‘Hmmm.’ Polly took a large glug of wine, closed her eyes and reflected on Johnny’s words. ‘You know, Johnny, you talk a lot of sense. Spread my net further, that’s what I’m going to do.’

  At that moment, Max returned to the bar and we all turned to look at him, reappraising him in the light of Polly’s comments. He had a commanding presence, that was for sure, demanding your full attention as though it was his birthright, and despite my best intentions, I simply couldn’t drag my eyes away from him.

  ‘Although, I won’t be casting my net in that direction.’ Polly went on, just in case we were in any doubt about her intentions. ‘Me and the Lord of the Manor over there won’t be getting together anytime soon.’ She gestured her head towards Max who was now deep in conversation with Eric. ‘I’ll leave that to some other
, braver woman.’

  She turned to look at me, a glint in her eyes.

  Of course, she was absolutely right about Max. Macho, sophisticated and charming, he was all those things and many more, but I couldn’t agree with her on him being too much of a good thing. From where I was sitting he looked pretty much perfect in every way.

  Eight

  Early the next morning an urgent banging on the front door roused me from my bed. Bleary-eyed, wishing I hadn’t drunk quite so much white wine the previous night, I traipsed down the stairs wondering what was quite so pressing at seven-thirty in the morning.

  On the doorstep was Gemma Jones managing to look obscenely well-put together in her obviously just-got-out-of-bed look. Pastel-coloured polka-dot pyjamas, blonde hair swept back into a high ponytail and face bare of make-up, she looked as though she’d just stepped out of an advertisement for healthy breakfast cereal. In contrast, in my grey jogging pants and sweat top, feeling like death warmed-up, I was certain I’d be cast as the slutty unfit neighbour. I ran my hand through my hair, stood up straight and plastered a smile on my face.

  ‘Gemma!’

  ‘Ellie, I’m so sorry to turn up like this, so early, but I’m desperate.’ If this was what desperate did for you, then maybe I needed a small part of it. Looking closer though, beyond the healthy early morning glow, I could see anxiety flecked in her eyes. ‘I need a huge favour. I’ve left the kids with my next-door neighbour, so I can’t be long.’

  ‘Of course. If I can. What is it?’

  I was clearly the go-to girl for favours in Little Leyton at the moment.

  ‘Nigel’s away on business at the moment and he’s not back until the weekend. The boys have a sickness bug, Sasha has got her dancing exam today, Eliza’s being clingy and the baby’s got croup.’

  I gulped, hoping to goodness she wasn’t about to ask me to look after her kids. I hadn’t had a lot of experience in that area and certainly didn’t want to be picking up any nasty germs.