Ginny avoided Ray’s long, slow glare.
‘It’s fun. Have you ever played it? Okay, well, um,’ Ginny went on to the roomful of shaking heads. ‘It’s a bit like Pictionary but with words. You have teams of two or more people. One person takes a card which has names of five random things like famous places or people or films and stuff then they have thirty seconds to prompt their team mates what the word is without actually saying it. It helps if you’re on the same wavelength. Um, does that make sense?’
‘Sounds like fun,’ Jim said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. ‘Who’s in whose team?’
Beth beamed and laid out the board.
‘There’s eight of us. If it’s about knowing how your team mate’s mind works, then we should probably partner the person we know the best. So, you and me, Jim. Ray and Sarah. Alex and?’
Ginny inwardly groaned. Kerry would never forgive her if she partnered Alex.
‘I’ll go with Julien,’ she said. She gave an embarrassed smile to the looks of amazement.
‘Really?’ Beth said, unable to keep the doubt out of her tone. It was quickly replaced with a satisfied smile. ‘Wonderful!’
Ginny ventured a glance at Julien. His eyes bore into hers, filled with curiosity. If he’d been a puppy, his head would have tilted to one side, Ginny found herself thinking. She nodded and pulled out a chair for him before sitting down. Ray sat down on her other side and leant over.
‘This is going to be interesting,’ he murmured in her ear. ‘This might spark World War Three.’
‘Shush, Ray,’ Ginny muttered back. ‘Board games are only dangerous if you’re already in a relationship. If you don’t have one to begin with then there’s less chance of a punch-up.’
She attempted an amiable smile as Julien took his seat.
‘Any regrets for walking by our gate yet?’ she asked.
Julien’s eyes twinkled.
‘I’m surprisingly curious about how we are going to do in this game.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘And curious why you wanted me as your partner.’
Ginny was saved from replying by Beth clapping her hands.
‘Right, everyone! Choose your token-thingy. I’ll be in charge of the egg-timer. We’ll roll to see who starts.’
*
The egg-timer was flipped and Alex whipped out a card. Kerry faced him intently.
‘Okay. Um, boxer dude –’
‘Ricky Hatton!’
‘No. Fought back in the seventies and eighties I think –’
‘Ooh, I don’t know any other boxers.’
‘Went by two names. Had big fight in Zaire…’
‘Muhammad Ali!’
‘No – the other one!’
‘George Foreman!’
‘No, the other name!’
‘Cassius Clay!’
‘Yes! Next one – um – road in London full of newsagents.’
‘Eh?’
‘Time’s nearly up!’ shrilled Beth.
‘Um, I don’t know!’ Kerry cried. ‘Give me more clues!’
‘Hell,’ Alex said, dragging a hand through his curls. ‘It’s on that Monopoly game! A red one, I think –’
‘Time’s up!’ Jim, Beth and Sarah yelled in unison.
‘Fleet Street, you mean?’ Kerry asked.
Alex nodded.
‘Newsagents? They’re journalists, not newsagents.’
He grinned.
‘Wait until you have to prompt me. You’ll see what the pressure’s like.’
‘Right, how many did you get?’ Beth asked.
‘One out of five.’
‘Oh dear, this is harder than I thought,’ Kerry said. ‘Your go next, Ginny.’
Ginny took a deep breath and turned in her seat to face Julien. He focused on her like a panther zoning in on its prey.
‘Ready?’ Beth said, fingering the egg-timer. ‘Go!’
Ginny whipped up a card.
‘Right, okay, um. Bloody hell,’ she grimaced at the prompts. ‘Ooh, I know! Your favourite drink!’
‘Jameson’s Whiskey!’
‘Yes!’
‘Um, the sort of musical you would go watch.’
‘Eh? I don’t watch musicals.’
‘Okay, hell, I’m going to embarrass myself here…’ To snorts of laughter from Alex and Ray, Ginny caroled the first line to I Dreamed a Dream.
‘Les Miserables,’ Julien answered. ‘Why is that the sort I’d go watch?’
‘Because you’re French?’ Ginny said dubiously.
Julien shook his head with a smile.
‘Keep going!’ Beth interrupted. ‘Time’s nearly up.’
‘Okay, boring reality TV series.’
‘Big Brother!’
‘Yes! Oh God, what does this person sing? Ooh, I know! Your least favourite Canadian singer. Sings soppy love songs.’
‘Bryan Adams?’
‘No, the other one!’
‘Celine Dion!’
‘Yes!’
‘Quick!’ exclaimed Beth.
‘Artist.Fat guy. Not the sort of thing I like.’ She remembered Sarah’s art exhibition. ‘You do though!’
‘Pablo Picasso!’
‘Yes!’
‘Time’s up!’ Jim yelled. ‘How many did you get?’
Ginny showed her parents the card and felt a faint blush tint her cheeks.
‘All five.’
She looked at Julien from the corner of her eye and saw a somewhat incredulous but satisfied smile on his face. Suddenly embarrassed, she flashed him a quick smile and leaned forward to move their token.
Thirty minutes of Thirty Seconds later, Ginny again moved their token onto the Finish square with a triumphant tap. The party looked at the board in awed silence.
‘Wow,’ Ray drawled. ‘That’s a turn-up for the books.’
‘Yes,’ Jim said, clearing his throat. ‘You two certainly showed us how to play. Who came second?’
‘Me and Sarah,’ Ray grinned. ‘Only about twenty spaces behind.’
‘I thought you said this game was for people who knew each other well?’ Jim said, looking at his and Beth’s token only halfway around the board.
‘No, it’s apparently for people on the same wavelength,’ Ray provided.
‘Well, we know where you two are then,’ Jim addressed his daughter.
Ginny hazarded a look at Julien. What would his take be on this conclusion? Julien blinked at the board and met her gaze. He gave a decidedly continental shrug.
‘Maybe we had easy prompts.’
Ginny nodded. The curiously warm feeling of satisfaction that she and Julien were on the same wavelength dropped a couple of degrees in temperature as he made the excuse.
‘Yeah, probably,’ she agreed. She looked away, wondering why his reply had lowered her high spirits. ‘Time for a drink, I think,’ she said brightly.
‘Good idea,’ Ray said. He scraped his chair back. ‘I’ll come help you.’
Ginny felt rather than heard the concern in his voice and she nodded gratefully.
‘Thanks.’
Chapter Seventeen
It was one thing eating with chopsticks, Ginny thought to herself the next evening, but it was another to eat with chopsticks when nervous. She had already spilled Soya sauce on the beautifully-designed woven table mats and was concentrating hard on not flicking any food at her partner. As she sat in the up-market London sushi restaurant opposite Mark, she wondered why she still felt like this around him. He was never anything but courteous and charming, but she always felt she had to take on a persona to impress him, or at least to measure up to his own high standards. She considered whether it might be the places they went to. The sushi restaurant’s vast window-fronts made Ginny feel as if she was on as much display as the lobsters in the huge fish tanks. Even with Chinese blinds zigzagging throughout the floor, making some attempt at privacy, the obvious expense and designer treatment bestowed upon the set-up made Ginny feel a bit out of her depth.
As wel
l as her nerves deflating her appetite, she was ridiculously excited about seeing The Phantom after their meal and despite the delicious food and wine, she couldn’t wait for them to be on their way to the theatre.
‘I must admit, I was a bit reluctant to bring you here,’ Mark said.
‘Why? Afraid I would get drunk and start dancing on the tables?’
‘Well, the thought had crossed my mind, admittedly, but really because sushi isn’t for everyone. I wasn’t sure if you’d ever eaten it before.’
‘Oh, of course I have. I used to have it in Cape Town when I went out with friends to the Waterfront.’
‘Oh, yes. Quality sushi there. Almost on a par with this place, anyhow.’
A tiny spark of defensiveness lit up in Ginny as someone dared say Cape Town didn’t do the best sushi in the world. But she quashed it. It was a ridiculous thing to get annoyed about, so she smiled brightly to make up for it.
‘It’s delicious, thank you. Do you come here often?’
‘That sounds like a pick-up line.’
Ginny laughed.
‘It does, doesn’t it? But I don’t need to feed you pick-up lines, do I?’
‘No, I’m a sure thing, baby,’ he teased. ‘To answer your question though, I’ve been here a few times, but I’m hardly a regular. Do you ever come into London?’
Ginny made a face.
‘Not if I can help it. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate it here, but I’m a country girl and I much prefer the smell of the harvest to the smell of exhaust fumes.’
‘Well, I haven’t come across anyone who does, but they still like London.’
‘Big cities aren’t for me. Never have been. I get claustrophobic if I spend more than a few days in London. Cambridge, I can just about deal with. And London is lovely for a treat every now and then. You know, Christmas shopping and stuff like that.’
‘Like tonight?’
‘Like tonight. How about you, don’t you ever get sick of the non-stop rush of everything here?’
‘If you go with the flow and aren’t fighting to slow down the whole time, it’s a lot easier. If you’re not careful, it can become monotonous just getting on the tube every morning, going to work, coming home, cooking a ready meal and sleeping, but it can also be exciting. It has vibrancy and life about it. There’s always something happening here, every day, every minute,’ Mark said, brandishing his chopsticks around him. ‘You just need to take advantage of it.’
‘But your pad here in London isn’t the only place you’ve got, is it?’
‘No, and I won’t deny I do like to get out every now and then, hence why I have a place outside Cambridge. There’s also another attraction to getting away from the city now as well.’
‘What?’ Ginny asked dimly.
‘Newmarket’s suddenly become a much more interesting place now with the addition of a certain young female trainer.’
Ginny blushed.
‘You flatter me.’
‘It’s the truth,’ Mark shrugged. ‘Now, what’s the time? Seven, okay. Have you had enough? I think we’d better start thinking of making a move.’
‘Can we get popcorn at The Phantom?’
Mark hesitated for a moment, not sure if she was joking or not. Ginny failed to disguise a wicked smile. It could be very amusing sometimes knowing that she was the unrefined half of this couple, and Mark obviously wasn’t too confident about her manners in more dignified company than she was used to.
‘Something tells me it’s not that sort of theatre,’ Mark drawled. He beckoned the Asian waiter over with their bill and hardly glancing at the price, he handed over his credit card.
‘Right,’ he said, once the waiter had gone. ‘I’m just going to use the Gents. Back in a sec.’
Alone, Ginny fiddled with the table mat in front of her. Now that they were about to go, she couldn’t wait. The wooden, black-painted table suddenly vibrated beneath her hands and she saw Mark’s phone sitting on the table, jig sideways. She dared not answer it. She looked up to see where he was, but he was still nowhere in sight. A few seconds after it had stopped ringing, the text tone chimed and leaning over, she read the lit up blue screen.
1 New Message from Damien
She and the phone were both sitting quietly when Mark returned.
‘Ready?’ he asked.
‘Yes, let’s go. I can’t wait! You received a message on your phone, by the way.’
‘Thanks.’ Mark picked up his phone as she stood up. ‘Fucking hell!’
Ginny looked up in surprise, her coat half on her shoulders. Just as shocking as the vehemence that he spoke with, she didn’t recall having heard him curse before.
‘Everything okay?’ she said.
‘Just work,’ Mark muttered and slipped his mobile into his jacket pocket. ‘Nothing we need to worry about now.’
As Ginny followed Mark out of the restaurant and into the young evening, she frowned to herself. She hadn’t realised Mark and Damien actually worked together. Obviously, Damien rode his horses for him, but was that work as such? Mentally shrugging her shoulders she focussed her thoughts on the next highlight of her night out in London.
*
Clutching Mark’s arm, Ginny trotted alongside up the steps to the theatre feeling as excited as a child going to Hamleys, and kept having to remind herself that she was meant to be acting like an adult. Mark liked smart restaurants and events and appeared to have a much more mature view of these outings than Ginny, and she didn’t think he would quite appreciate her girlish excitement, even allowing for his good nature.
They settled into their seats in the packed auditorium and waited, as people filled the theatre, for the show to start. Finally, the lights went down and Ginny fidgeted in her chair in anticipation. She glanced at Mark’s profile, strong and defined in the shadows. The slight frown which he had worn since leaving the restaurant was being smoothed away with an imperceptible smile on his lips. Despite his cool attitude to everything, she could see that even he was looking forward to the show. She grinned as the auctioneer on stage revealed the giant chandelier and the ominous descending organ notes of the theme tune thundered about the theatre. Ginny relaxed in her seat with contentment, her foot tapping along to the tune.
*
Refreshed and with her head filled with the music, Ginny and Mark stepped outside into the dusky evening after the show. As they waited for a taxi, Ginny leant up and kissed Mark on the cheek. He turned, smiling, and raised a questioning eyebrow.
‘Thank you,’ she grinned. ‘I’ve had a lovely evening.’
‘It’s not over yet. Come on, here’s one.’ Stepping forward he hailed a passing cab then held the door open for her.
‘Where are we going?’
‘My place.’
A little tense, Ginny sat beside Mark in the back of the taxi as it threaded its way through the London streets. His words had made her a little uneasy, although she was silly to think it, she scolded herself. She attempted an inward laugh – perhaps the darkness of the musical they’d just seen was rubbing off on her. It was just the way he had said it wasn’t over yet though, that made her feel that now he had wined, dined and musicalled her, he was taking for granted what would happen when they got to his flat.
Well, he was entitled to, wasn’t he? Ginny reasoned with herself. By agreeing to stay with him in London, neither of them were expecting her to sleep on the couch so it was only natural to expect they sleep with each other. For a moment Ginny asked herself why she felt so nervous, when it should be the most natural thing to do, but she pushed the thought away before she had time to come up with an answer.
*
Mark snapped on the lights as he led the way into his flat and Ginny looked around her. It was open plan and very minimalist, which didn’t surprise her, with a definite masculinity about it that left you in no doubt that a bachelor lived here. Mark took her coat and hung both of theirs on a coat stand behind the door.
‘Come through whi
le I get us a drink. You can see a bit more of the place.’
Ginny followed him through to the kitchen past the lounge in which long black leather settees with clean-cut corners surrounded a square metal and glass coffee table and a very wide plasma television. The immaculate white walls were bare except for a couple of large black and white photographic pieces of art. Before Mark closed the stainless steel fridge after retrieving a bottle of champagne, Ginny glimpsed the contents inside. It was full of healthy food, neatly stacked on the correct shelves. Ginny wondered what Mark would say about hers and Sally G’s fridge which was bursting with everything from chocolate to Chinese takeaways. She doubted whether tomato sauce lying on its side in the egg shelf or tubs of low-fat yoghurt in the vegetable section was quite right. Reluctantly, Ginny admitted Mark’s fridge was just boring. At least if you were feeling peckish at home, you could always be guaranteed of finding something unexpected in the fridge. Mark handed her a flute of champagne, and she resolved this should be the last one for tonight. This must be her fifth glass. Ginny watched Mark loosen his dark grey tie and release his shirt’s top button and she was amazed at the difference this small casual adjustment to his appearance made. She couldn’t recall ever seeing Mark without his tie done up and she had to admit the sight wasn’t unattractive. Armani were missing one of their best models. He leaned back against the granite worktop opposite her and smiled.
‘What?’ Ginny asked.
‘Nothing. You just look out of your comfort zone, that’s all.’
‘You’ve got a lovely place here,’ she said, gesturing around her.
‘Not quite like Sally G’s.’
‘No, that’s for sure. But then Sally G’s place is in Newmarket where she has me, Kerry and the cats tramping through the rooms the whole time. You keep this place very…smart.’ Ginny almost said clinical, but thought that might not sound much like a compliment.
‘I have a lady come in to clean twice a week.’
‘How many bedrooms?’
‘Two double and a study. Come through and have a look.’
Carrying her champagne aloft, she tracked Mark’s lead down a hallway. Opening the first door wide, he switched on the light and stood aside to reveal a tidy guest bedroom, with a crease-free double bed and tasteful dressing table and bedside tables.
At Long Odds (A Racing Romance) Page 13
