A Funny Thing About Love

by Rebecca Farnworth

  ‘It would have been a terrible cliché if you had.’ Carmen was so close to telling Will that she loved him, but something stopped her.

  ‘I’ll get the champagne.’ If in doubt, reach for alcohol.

  19

  Walking into Marcus’s production company Neon Tiger was like stepping back in time as Carmen saw first Trish, then Daisy, Lottie and Dirty Sam, all of whom had needed very little persuasion to take redundancy and leave Fox Nicholson.

  ‘Oh my God!’ she exclaimed, hugging each of them in turn, even Dirty Sam, and usually she kept him at arms’ length as he was a terrible groper. ‘It’s so good to see you all! You can let go now, Dirty Sam,’ she added, extricating herself from Dirty Sam’s overly passionate embrace – if he was a dog he’d be one of those pesky little mongrels who was forever trying to mate with your leg. It was the first time Carmen had visited the company. She had spent the last month working flat out to finish the sitcom, discovering that there was nothing like a deadline to stop all the random acts of procrastination and focus the mind.

  Marcus had managed to rent an office in a prime location just off Tottenham Court Road. He’d got it at a bargain price as it was slightly run down and wasn’t built to the high-tech spec so many companies demanded. But that was a plus as far as Carmen was concerned. She was delighted to see that all the windows opened, there was no hideous overhead lighting that made one want to put one’s head in a bag to escape its penetrating glare, and there were no glass cages, though Will had his own office tucked in the corner, as did Marcus, both of which had glass doors with venetian blinds. Trish had already made herself at home and had surrounded her desk with her cacti collection and aquarium.

  ‘This is going to be your desk,’ Trish told her, pointing out a work station adjacent to hers. Carmen was going to work part-time for the company developing scripts while they waited to see what would happen with her sitcom. Will was training up Daisy to be an agent, as he reckoned she had a killer instinct and was wasted as a receptionist. With characteristic dark humour she had decorated her work station with a red-and-white triangular warning sign: ‘Touch my stuff you die, yes, I mean you, Dirty Sam.’ Lottie’s desk had a vase of cheery sunflowers on it, a present from her girlfriend congratulating her on her new job, and Dirty Sam’s had at least three coffee mugs that needed washing and a large cardboard figure of Megan Fox.

  ‘It’s the closest he gets to a real woman,’ Will told her as they walked past on their way to his office.

  ‘We know what you’re up to!’ Dirty Sam called out after them.

  Will fixed him with his big boss look. ‘Missing Tiana?’

  Dirty Sam pretended to be working on a very import ant document.

  ‘We’re going through Carmen’s sitcom, not that it’s any of your business.’

  Will could be very masterful when he chose to be, Carmen reflected as she followed him. As soon as Will had shut the door he pulled down the venetian blind. ‘But now Dirty Sam will definitely think we’re up to something,’ Carmen protested.

  ‘We are up to something,’ Will said, putting his arms round her and kissing her. ‘I’ve always wanted to have carnal knowledge with one of my colleagues in the workplace, and now I’m the boss I really feel there’s nothing stopping me.’

  ‘I’m not having sex with you in here,’ Carmen said when she surfaced from the kiss. ‘I just couldn’t, knowing that everyone was out there.’

  ‘You mean you don’t want to slip out of your panties and straddle me while I sit at my desk playing at being a big executive.’ Will gave her a wicked grin.

  ‘Not now you’ve said that word. I’ll never forgive Marcus for telling you.’

  Will sighed theatrically. ‘Shame. Come on, Miller, let’s get to work. I’m going to be pitching this to Channel Four in three weeks and it’s got to be perfect.’

  And they did just that. Carmen knew that once Will had set his mind to do something, he would not be deflected. She watched him frowning with concentration as they went through the scenes, running his hands through his short hair, and her heart flipped over.

  The four weeks since New Year’s Eve had been some of the happiest she had ever known, passing in a whirlwind of passion, laughter and work. She had moved back to London on New Year’s Day and was staying in Marcus’s spare room until she could get enough money together for a deposit. Will wanted her to move in with him but it felt too soon after everything that had happened. She had rushed into things with Daniel, and look where that had got her. Besides, she told Will, she couldn’t leave Marcus on his own. He was still mourning Leo, and Carmen felt that only her presence in the flat stopped him embarking on a self-destructive fuck-fest, which was what he kept threatening to do. Will didn’t push it, but Carmen could tell that he was waiting for her to move their relationship on. She still hadn’t told him she loved him, knowing that when she did she would have to tell him about not being able to have children. Will would be very understanding, she was sure, but the pity would creep in and then he would be looking for an exit.

  ‘So what’s the plan for tonight?’ Will asked when they’d been working for some three hours, sustained only by quantities of Colin the Caterpillars, which neither thought were a patch on Wobbly Worms, and interrupted at least four times by Dirty Sam with spurious questions, desperate to see if they really were up to anything.

  ‘We’re taking Marcus out for his birthday at Rico’s. I thought he’d want to go somewhere posher but he said he wanted low-key. Last year Leo flew him to the Four Seasons in New York, and I imagine that Rico’s is probably about as far away from the Four Seasons as you can get. I’ll meet you there, I’ve got to go and buy his present.’

  ‘Ah, the life of a part-time worker.’ Will leaned back in his chair. ‘Are you sure you won’t move in with me? Then I could come home to you cooking supper, wearing a cute little apron, maybe with nothing on under the apron.’

  ‘That would be dangerous in the kitchen, don’t you think?’

  Will was lost in his fantasy. ‘My slippers warming by the fire as you pour me a glass of wine.’

  ‘If that’s the life you’ve imagined for us then let me tell you I am never moving in with you, and if I ever see any slippers in your flat, they won’t be warming by the fire, they will be in the fire. Slippers are the antidote to passion,’ Carmen declared, gathering up her things.

  ‘How can an UGG-wearer diss slippers? My West Ham pair are very fetching, I’ll have you know. I’m sure you’d find me just as irresistible if I was naked and only wearing them and a smile.’

  ‘No way!’ Carmen shot back.

  ‘Yes way.’ Will got up and grabbed her arm, forcing her to sit on his lap, at the very moment Dirty Sam came in on one of his leering missions.

  ‘I knew it!’ he declared, punching the air and practically skipping back to his desk, shouting, ‘Lottie, you owe me a fiver. They were at it.’

  Carmen looked at Will. ‘And you employed Dirty Sam why?’

  ‘Evidently not for his social skills. He’s very good at spotting comic talent, and in an ideal world he would do just that and the rest of us would never have to interact with him.’

  Carmen slid off his lap and straightened her skirt.

  ‘We may as well do it, don’t you think, now that they all think we have?’ Will said hopefully.

  ‘I’ll see you later,’ Carmen replied, walking out of the door and glaring at Dirty Sam who still looked as if he had won the lottery. She wondered if there was a course he could go on to learn people skills, then reasoned it was probably too late.

  She spent a pleasant couple of hours mooching around the shops trying to find a suitable present for Marcus – the man who really did have everything. In the end she went for a collection of Oscar Wilde’s fairy stories. As she walked back to Mount Street she thought about the last month. Being with Will was a revelation – it was like having a lover and a best friend all rolled up. Carmen had never attached much weight to the idea that there
was a person out there who would be ‘the one’. But with Will she was having to revise that idea, maybe he was her one. The trouble was, for how long? She knew she was living on borrowed time and felt that any moment there would be a wake-up call, and she would be forced to say goodbye to a happiness that seemed all the sweeter as she knew it couldn’t last.

  ‘Happy Birthday, Marcus!’ Mamma Mia declared, folding Marcus into one of her bear hugs and giving him a series of hefty kisses which indicated the depth of her affection for him, almost as great as her feeling for Will if the tightness of her grip and passionate smack of her kisses was anything to go by. ‘The first celebrity to dine at Rico’s! I am so proud. See, I have already put your picture up on the wall.’ She pointed over to a poster-sized framed photograph of herself and Marcus she’d had taken the last time he’d visited, and which was decorated with gold tinsel to ensure it stood out from the others. ‘I know you are used to the very best and I will give you the VIP treatment, I promise, my darling boy.’ With that she exited in a flurry of black skirts to boss the waiters around.

  ‘I thought this was going to be low-key,’ Marcus said, looking accusingly at Carmen.

  ‘It is,’ Carmen insisted. She appealed to Will, Sadie and Dom (yes, miraculously Sadie still hadn’t dumped Dom), for back-up. ‘Mamma Mia’s always like this. She’s not putting on anything special just for you.’ At this Carmen crossed her fingers as Mamma Mia had excelled herself in the birthday arrangements by making a cake and decorating it with a picture of Marcus’s face made out of icing, which she was going to carry to the table while the entire restaurant burst into a rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’, accompanied by Mamma Mia’s grandson on the accordion. Carmen hadn’t had the heart to tell Mamma Mia that Marcus had an irrational hatred of the accordion – even the sight of one set his teeth on edge.

  ‘Well, just so long as there is no cake and no singing of “Happy Birthday”, you know I hate that kind of thing.’

  ‘More Barolo, anyone?’ was Carmen’s reply, as Will winked at her.

  The meal got underway with plenty of laughter, then Sadie said she had an announcement to make. There was an expectant hush. Please, please, please don’t say that you’re going to marry him, Carmen thought. Cohabiting with Dom was surely punishment enough, and she had never expected that Dom would last this long. Maybe there were hidden depths to his shallowness? Maybe he had actually paid for something?

  ‘I no longer have to recite the shipping forecast in bed,’ Sadie declared.

  ‘Damn!’ Marcus exclaimed. ‘I’ve been dining out on that for ages, it’s been comedy gold. You’ll have to give me something else, Dom. Surely you’ve another sexual peccadillo you could share with me?’

  Anyone else might have been offended by Marcus taking the piss out of their bedtime activities, but Dom was so thick-skinned and so in awe of Marcus, as a successful comedian at the top of his game, while he languished somewhere in the foothills, that he took it all in his stride. ‘I’m afraid not, Marcus,’ and his tone was apologetic. ‘But there is a chance that Sadie might land a role in Holby City as a nurse.’

  ‘Really?’ Will had perked up at this. ‘Sadie, with that voice you’ll give all the male patients heart attacks. It’ll be carnage on the ward!’

  ‘I predict a whole new role-play for you two,’ Marcus said drily. ‘But alas, it’s not as good as the shipping forecast; the whole nurse–patient dynamic is very well-charted territory. You know the sort of thing: Nurse, “It’s only a little prick.” Patient, “That’s what my wife says!” Boom boom! It just doesn’t work for me in the same way, I’m not that kind of comedian.’

  Now Dom visibly wilted as he took on board the bitter knowledge that there is only one thing worse than being talked about by a celebrity, and that is not being talked about by one. ‘Perhaps we could have a monthly shipping forecast?’ he said, looking at Sadie hopefully.

  She shook her head and snapped a breadstick for emphasis. At last, Sadie seemed to be learning to say no.

  ‘D’you remember when we came here for my birthday?’ Will said quietly while Sadie and Dom chatted to Marcus.

  ‘Of course I remember – Dirty Sam nearly dropped his trousers, it quite put me off my tiramisu.’

  Will shook his head. ‘I was going to say that I remember looking at you across the table and thinking I wanted you so much, and that when we kissed it was one of the best kisses of my life. But I knew then that you were holding something back from me and you still are, aren’t you?’

  Not this, not now. Carmen shrugged. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  Will was prevented from pressing his case further as suddenly the lights were dimmed and Mamma Mia’s twelve-year-old grandson, dressed in a smart black suit, with a severe side parting, marched proudly into the restaurant playing ‘Happy Birthday’ on his accordion. Marcus glared at Carmen, who in turn pretended to be captivated by the little boy’s performance. She was never more grateful for the distraction. Then Mamma Mia strode triumphantly into the room bearing the cake in her arms as it blazed with sparklers. ‘Happy Birthday to you!’ her voice boomed out as she indicated to the diners that they should join in. Everyone present knew that Mamma Mia was not to be trifled with if they wanted to dine there again and gave it their best shot.

  Marcus had a fixed smile on his face and a glazed look in his eyes as he muttered out of the corner of his mouth, ‘I’ll pay you back for this, Carmen, maybe not tonight or tomorrow, but one day in the future.’

  As the cake drew nearer he stared at it in appalled fascination. ‘Why’s Dale Winton on my cake?’

  ‘It’s not Dale Winton, it’s supposed to be you.’ She and Marcus were getting very good at this talking-out-of-the-side-of-their-mouths.

  ‘Shoot me now.’

  ‘Happy Birthday, dear Marcus!’ Mamma Mia had reached her destination. The cake looked like a fire hazard and the sparklers were beginning to melt the gold icing, causing the face to take on a most macabre appearance, as first one eye disintegrated then the mouth. Marcus flashed his best always-look-on-the-bright-side-of-life smile at Mamma Mia. ‘Thank you, Carla, this is spectacular.’

  ‘I’m so glad you like it!’ Mamma Mia swooped down on him and plastered him with kisses.

  ‘And now we must toast Marcus with Strega!’ she declared.

  ‘The night just gets better!’ Marcus replied, visibly wilting under the Mamma Mia experience. Carmen bet he didn’t get this treatment in the Four Seasons. ‘I know Carmen has been looking forward to the Strega all night, make sure you pour her an extra large measure.’

  Somehow they all managed to finish their glasses of the liqueur, watched over tenderly by Mamma Mia, who also insisted that Marcus have two pieces of birthday cake. Will wasn’t able to say anything else personal to Carmen, who fully intended to whisk him back to his place and get him into bed before he knew what had hit him.

  Will had just asked for the bill and there was a general feeling of contentment around the table when there was a chorus of beeps from Carmen’s mobile, Marcus’s mobile and Sadie’s, which seemed odd.

  Marcus was first to access his. Instantly he frowned. ‘Was it from Leo?’ Carmen asked, poised to check hers. She was expecting to hear from Jess.

  Marcus shook his head and looked over at Sadie, who had just read hers and appeared equally troubled.

  ‘Don’t look at the message,’ Marcus said quietly. ‘I think it’s been sent to you by mistake. I’m sure he didn’t mean to.’

  ‘Why not? Is it porn? I bet it’s Dirty Sam.’ Ignoring his advice, Carmen opened her inbox. And then froze.

  The message was from Nick. It was a picture message of him with his arm round Marian, who was holding a tiny newborn baby. ‘Introducing the wonderful Noah, born a month early, we’re all doing great but knackered!!’ was the accompanying message.

  ‘He must have done one of those group text things,’ Sadie said. ‘Marcus is right, I’m sure he didn’t mean to send it to you.’

>   Carmen was falling down one of those cracks again, falling, falling, falling. She stared down at the red-and-white tablecloth, not even registering that Will had put his arm round her. ‘Well, it doesn’t matter,’ she said, ‘I’m impressed that anyone can do a group text message, I’ve never worked out how to.’ When in doubt make them laugh. No one was laughing. ‘I’m really happy for them,’ Carmen went on, ‘I just need to go to the bathroom.’ And without looking at anyone, she got up, but instead of going to the Ladies she ran up the steep stairs, pushed open the door and rushed into the street.

  It was a bitterly cold February night – the forecasters had kept saying it was going to snow – but Carmen was oblivious to the cold as she walked blindly along Great Portland Street without an idea of where she was going. She just knew that she couldn’t sit there and pretend everything was alright. She could hear Will calling her name but she kept on walking.

  ‘Carmen, wait, please!’ He had caught up with her. He grabbed her arm, forcing her to stop. Carmen looked down at the icy pavement and her shoulders sagged. She suddenly felt incredibly weary, resigned; this would be it, the moment she said goodbye to Will. It had been bad enough telling Daniel, it would be a thousand times worse telling Will.

  ‘Before you tell me what’s going on, I just want to say that I love you. And there is nothing you could say to me that could ever change that,’ Will said passionately.

  Carmen still couldn’t look at him. ‘If only I could freeze time to half an hour ago when we were all so happy,’ she said.

  ‘You can’t do that, Carmen, and I wouldn’t want to. I want us to move forward together. It’s time to go beyond the banter, don’t you think? I’ve been very patient while you’ve continued to do your distance thing. You’ve never quite let me in, have you?’

  ‘Because you wouldn’t want to be let in if you really knew me.’ Carmen’s voice was flat, as flat as her flat-lined spirits. There was no hope.

  ‘I do really know you, Carmen,’ Will insisted.