by Tanith Morse
‘Don’t remind me,’ I said darkly. ‘Do you realise what you’ve done? I’ll probably never hear the end of this. He’ll be dropping in all the time now.’
‘And what’s wrong with that? I think he really fancies you.’
‘No he does not!’
‘Why’s it so hard for you to accept that someone might find you attractive, Maddy? It’s pretty obvious that he fancies the pants off you. I saw the way he was looking at you.’
I shook my head dismissively. ‘Don’t make my skin crawl.’
Beth cackled wickedly. ‘Look darling, it’s only a drink. At the end of the night, if it really gets that bad, I’ll tell him to back off, okay? I’ll tell him you’re spoken for. But I don’t know why on earth you’d want that. You should never judge a book by its cover. Underneath all that hair and teeth could be a sex God just waiting to rip your clothes off.’
‘Not likely! You’re terrible, do you know that?’
‘Yeah, but you love me.’
* * *
The air was filled with drunken laughter as we approached the entrance to the George on Poplar High Street. David held open the door for us. Beth gave me a knowing wink. I rolled my eyes theatrically.
The pub was extremely crowded for a Sunday night. I wondered if there was a match on or something. At first we struggled to find a table, but eventually managed to wrangle one by the toilets. I hated sitting near the loos. It meant that people would keep coming back and forth, which I found really irritating.
‘I’ll get the drinks,’ David smiled, pulling out his wallet. ‘What do you both want?’
‘A glass of white wine, please,’ Beth said.
‘Any type in particular?’
‘No, house white is fine.’
‘Madeline?’
‘The same, please.’ I found it quite endearing that he always referred to me as ‘Madeline’ and not Maddy, almost like he was too polite to drop the formalities.
We watched him make his way towards the bar.
‘You were really hard on him, Mads. I think he’s absolutely lovely. He’s not as strange as you made out. Okay, so maybe he could do with a haircut, but apart from that he’s all right.’
‘If you say so,’ I sighed. I still wasn’t convinced.
When he got back with the drinks, Beth proceeded to grill him about his life: Where did he work? What did he do in his free time?
David filled her in on everything I already knew – that he was a freelance photographer who enjoyed taking pictures of buildings and people. The only new information I learned was that he had grown up in Oxbridge.‘Oxbridge?’ Beth frowned. For a second, her face was marred with confusion. ‘Oh, right. Excellent! Which one did you go to?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Oxford or Cambridge? I mean, Oxbridge isn’t exactly a place is it?’
David shifted uncomfortably. Scratched his nose. ‘Cambridge,’ he muttered.
‘If you don’t mind me asking,’ Beth continued cheerily, ‘how old are you?’
‘Forty.’
I was surprised. He looked much older.
‘So, are you married then? I don’t see any ring.’
I kicked her leg under the table.
David wasn’t fazed. ‘No, never.’
‘Not even engaged?’
‘Yes, once. But never married.’
‘I’m surprised. I would have thought someone would have snapped you up long ago.’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I guess I’m still waiting for the right woman.’
Beth winked at me. I was so not impressed with her putting me on the spot like this.
‘I think it’s my round,’ I said quickly, getting up. ‘Same again guys?’
My sister nodded. I looked at David. ‘Actually, I think I’ll have a martini this time.’
‘Okay. I’ll be back in a minute.’
Tentatively, I made my way through the maze of hot, sweaty bodies towards the bar. Suddenly, someone elbowed me, and I accidently stepped on a young man’s toe.
‘Ooh, easy there, love,’ he laughed, holding me upright. I could smell the stench of alcohol on his breath.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I mumbled. Turning away from him, I searched in vain for the barmaid, who was busy serving another group of people further up the counter. My palms felt all clammy. I gripped my credit card tightly in my hand. I needed to get this over with as soon as possible.
A couple of the young man’s friends appeared, and I overheard part of their conversation: ‘I don’t fancy yours much, John. She’s got a face like a haunted clock!’
Their cruel laughter was like a dagger to my heart.
By the time I got back to our table I was struggling to control my emotions.
‘What on earth’s the matter, Mads? Has someone upset you?’
‘I’m fine, really I am. Please don’t make a fuss. It’s nothing.’
Beth put her hand on my shoulder. ‘Tell me what’s wrong, darling.’
I hated how she always had to make such a fuss, hated that she wouldn’t let the matter drop. Had she just left me alone, I probably would have been able to keep it together. But the more she probed, the more emotional I became, until finally, I could bear it no longer.
‘It’s just something silly!’ I wailed.
David reached across the table and slipped his hand in mine. His skin felt warm and soft. Surprisingly so, like he’d never done a day of hard work in his life. I studied his fingers. They were long, graceful and manicured to perfection - completely at odds with the rest of his appearance. I was shocked. The last thing I would expect a man who walked around in a torn jacket and holey socks to be fastidious about was his nails.
Instinctively, I looked up at him. His face showed genuine concern. And, for the first time, I noticed how lovely they were. Dark eyes. Eyes that were like two exquisite coals. They almost had a mesmerising quality to them. And something else. But what? I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
‘What happened, Madeline?’ he asked softly.
‘It was just some guy. He called me a name. Kiddie stuff, really. Let’s forget it, please.’
He surveyed the room. ‘Which guy?’
‘Oh please, let’s just leave it, okay?’
‘Which guy?’
‘Leave it!’
‘No. If someone has insulted you, then he should be made to apologise.’
One of the guys from the yobbish group started making faces at us.
Oh God, what have I got us into? I thought.
My heart was in my mouth as I watched David approach them.
‘What’s he going to do?’ Beth squealed. ‘Has he lost the plot or what?’
‘I don’t know, but I don’t get a good feeling about this.’
With haughty confidence, David walked towards the guy who had insulted me and squared up to him. ‘Excuse me, but my friend has just told me that you called her a bad name.’
‘So what if I did? What are you gonna do about it?’
‘I don’t want any trouble, gentlemen. I just want you to apologise. You’ve really upset her.’
The younger man burst out laughing. ‘We’ve got a right one here, lads. This granddad thinks he’s, well, hard.’ He poked David roughly in his chest.
David stood firm, his face cool and placid.
‘Come on then, hit me!’ the man goaded. ‘Have a go if you think you’re hard enough.’
David shook his head grimly.
‘Oh my gosh!’ Beth shrieked, covering her mouth, ‘I don’t like the look of this.’
Words had deserted me. I was completely spellbound.
The man aimed a punch, but David was too quick for him. In one lightening move, he jammed both fingers into his attackers’ eyes and slammed his knee into his groin.
‘Ooh, that must have hurt!’ Beth breathed.
Then, David gripped the man’s shoulders and hurled him to the ground in what I can only describe as a magnificent Judo throw.
> The whole pub fell silent.
David nervously adjusted his specs. ‘Now say you’re sorry to the lady.’
From his cowering position on the floor, the man looked up at me. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry!’
The hush that followed seemed to last for eternity. All eyes were on us, and some of the expressions weren’t that friendly.
David slunk back to our table. ‘I think that’s our cue ladies.’
Beth nodded excitedly.
As we walked down the dark street, a blast of cold air helped to sober me up. I still couldn’t talk, couldn’t speak. I was too shaken by what I had seen.
‘Oh my God, David, that was amazing!’ Beth trilled. ‘What was that – some sort of karate?’
‘Krav Maga.’
‘Krav what?’
‘It’s a form of martial arts used by the Israeli military.’
‘Oh my gosh, that’s fantastic! Isn’t that fantastic, Maddy?’
‘Yes it is,’ I said.
That was the understatement of the century.
Chapter Five
That night, I obsessed about David’s act of heroism. It was the most courageous, most gallant thing anyone had ever done for me, and I was profoundly touched by it. I couldn’t sleep - my head was full of him. I kept replaying the event over and over again, analysing every look, every detail, wondering if they betrayed hidden meanings. I decided that David had to be incredibly fit and strong to have taken on a guy half his age. And yet, to look at him, you wouldn’t think him capable of swatting a fly.
The man was a fascinating paradox.
When Beth called me at work the next day she was hysterical. ‘Darling, he’s a-m-azing! You’ve simply got to see him again. Got to, got to, got to! I’ll never forgive you if you let this one slip through your fingers.’
‘We’ll see what happens,’ I replied evenly.
‘What do you mean “we’ll see what happens”? Darling, if a man ever did something like that for me, I’d be on my back in a heartbeat.’
I laughed. ‘Okay, maybe - ’
‘Not maybe - you will! I’ll never forgive you if you don’t. Listen, why don’t you invite him round to ours for dinner? Him and Phil will get on like a house on fire.’
‘Aren’t we moving a bit fast here? I mean, David hasn’t even made his feelings clear. We can’t even be sure he’s interested in me in that way.’
‘Of course he’s interested. Sometimes you should listen to your big sister. Trust my intuition, Mads. David is just what you need to break this self-imposed drought of yours.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Look, my lunch’s almost over. I’ve got to go.’
‘Just remember what I said. Don’t let me down.’
Beth was utterly incorrigible. Still, despite my protestations, I was secretly pleased to hear my sister speak so highly of David. It helped to harden my resolve. Yes, I would see him again. Hadto see him again – at the very least to thank him for defending my honour.
I decided to buy him a gift.
But what? I really didn’t know the man that well. I knew that he was into photography, so perhaps something associated with that? But then again, I was hopeless with electronics - I wouldn’t even know where to begin. What I needed to get him was something that would subtly show my appreciation without looking too desperate.
Aftershave perhaps? No, he didn’t look the sort.
Odour eaters? I smiled in spite of myself.
In the end, I decided to bake him a coffee and walnut cake. It was one of my specialities and always went down a treat at work dos. Baking was my forte, so it would also be a chance to show him that I too had a creative side. Plus, my mother always said that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach.
So after work, I stopped by Sainsbury’s to pick up the additional ingredients I needed: mascarpone, caster sugar and walnuts. I also grabbed a cheeky bottle of Tia Maria to make it extra special. A little booze in the filling never hurt anyone, I thought. Then I spent the rest of the evening beating, mixing and blending the base to perfection. I was quite pleased with the finished result. An early sample of the icing told me that this was one of my better attempts. Not the best, mind you, but certainly as good as anything you would buy at an upmarket baker’s. When I was satisfied that my light and fluffy creation was complete, I put it in the fridge and left it overnight. I found that my cakes always tasted better when the sponge had been given enough time to properly absorb the alcohol.
The next evening, I took it in a plastic container to his door.
The bell was broken so I had to knock timidly. It seemed to take forever for David to answer.
When he finally appeared, he looked genuinely pleased to see me.
‘I made you a cake,’ I blurted.
He took it from me and inspected it. ‘For me? You shouldn’t have. It’s not my birthday, is it?’
I hesitated. ‘It’s just a little token to say thank you for what you did the other day. Standing up to those guys, I mean. It was very . . .’
‘Stupid?’
‘No,’ I said hurriedly, ‘not stupid. Definitely not. It was . . . ’ I struggled to find the words. ‘Lovely and wonderful and I can’t thank you enough. No one has ever done anything like that for me before.’
Inside, I was cringing. It all sounded so contrived.
David smiled broadly. God, those teeth. ‘Do you want to come in?’
‘Okay.’
He showed me through a dimly-lit hall to the living room. I sneaked a peak at the kitchen as we passed. It was full of dirty dishes.
The living room was about the same size as mine, modestly furnished, but not as shabby as I might have expected. Half of it had been converted into a sort of photographic studio, complete with white muslin backdrop, lighting kit, an expensive looking camera and a tripod. The whole place had a slight air of disarray, of man living alone - the consummate bachelor’s pad.
‘Take a seat,’ he said.
I sank down on the sofa. The cushions felt flat and saggy. I looked around. The walls were papered with pictures of beautiful women - fashion models in various guises. One in particular caught my attention: a girl with dark features, Bambi eyes and her mouth parted in an expression that said ‘come and get me.’
As if reading my mind, David explained: ‘That was for a shoot I did for Love magazine. The girl was an absolute nightmare to work with. Brazilian. Really spoilt, really demanding. Photogenic as hell, though.’
I chuckled. Suddenly, I felt more at ease.
‘Do you fancy something to drink?’
‘Sure.’
‘Tea or something stronger?’
‘What have you got?’
‘JD’s.’
‘Fine, I’ll have that.’
David came back with a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s and poured us both a glass. I wasn’t used to drinking it straight, and the taste caused me to wince a bit.
For a moment, we sat facing each other - he on his office-style chair, me on the threadbare sofa. I racked my brain to think of something to say.
‘So, this Krav Marger - ’
‘Krav Maga,’ he corrected me.
‘Krav Maga. Where did you learn to do it?’
‘I wouldn’t say I’m an expert. Just took a couple of classes when I was living in Israel.’
‘Israel? Wow. Did you go out there for work?’
‘No, visiting family.’
‘What’s it like?’
‘Beautiful.’ He then gave me a couple of anecdotes about his time there: the people, the places, the lifestyle. He described it with such perfect candour; it was almost like I was living and breathing it myself.
‘It all sounds so wonderful,’ I murmured.
‘It is. You should go there some time.’
‘I wish! I’ve never been anywhere outside the UK.’
‘What – not even Paris?’
I laughed bitterly. ‘I should be so lucky. I’ve never even been to Butlins.’
David gave a quizzical smile. ‘You know, Madeline, you really do have striking features. Have you ever had any professional photos taken?’
‘No, never. I’m not photogenic at all.’
He scrutinized my face. ‘Of course you are. Everyone is. It’s just a matter of good lighting. Come on, I’ll show you.’
‘What?’
‘Let me take your picture.’
I blushed profusely. ‘No, no, I’m fine. You don’t have to.’
‘But I want to. Sit over there, please.’
It wasn’t a request. It was a command.
Reluctantly, I got up and sat on the chrome stool by the white board. I felt extremely hot, like the central heating had suddenly been turned on full blast.
He crouched down by the tripod and started adjusting its height. ‘Relax
Madeline, you look really tense.’
I squirmed. This was going to be a nightmare, I could tell. I felt so fat and frumpy compared with the gorgeous women he was accustomed to photographing. How on earth would I measure up to them?
‘You don’t wear any make-up, do you?’
‘Er, no, not really.’
‘Smart move. You don’t need it. You’ve got fantastic skin.’
A smile lingered on my lips. The man could charm the knickers off a nun.
Hastily, I downed the rest of my JD’s in one gulp. My nerves were all over the place.
‘Look, you’re still too tense, Madeline. You need to loosen up a bit, or it won’t look natural.’
I dropped my shoulders, slumped back on the stool, but still this wasn’t enough for him. He walked over from the tripod and stood behind me. Slowly, he rested his hands on the sides of my face and gently tilted my head up. His fingers were warm and smooth. My breathing grew shallow. Then, in one swift movement, he unclasped my hair and let my ponytail tumble around my shoulders. I closed my eyes. His touch was like a shockwave vibrating through my body. I was so starved of affection, so hungry for human contact, that I relished even the slightest brush, however minute.
‘Now, just relax. You need to release all this pent up tension.’ He slowly began kneading my shoulders with deep, rhythmic thrusts. His hands travelled up and down my neck, lingering sensuously over my skin. Then, with deft precision, he raked his fingers through my hair, gathering it up in great clumps, before working his way to my temples.
