It Had to Be You

by Lynda Renham

He hesitates. Didn’t what?

  ‘Anyway,’ he continues, ‘you’re one of the nicest women friends I’ve ever had, and I know you love Oliver and you deserve someone like him …’

  ‘I do? I deserve someone who shags his boss on Christmas Eve,’ I say bitterly as the waitress approaches for the fourth time.

  ‘Erm,’ she flaps, ‘is the …’

  ‘Yep, still great, just like five minutes ago,’ says William.

  ‘No, obviously you deserve better than that, and he was a fool but if you love him …’ he continues, looking at me intently.

  ‘Yes,’ I say solemnly. ‘I suppose I do still love him.’

  ‘Then, isn’t this the perfect time to see if you can make it work? It won’t happen if you move back, but if you take it slowly and we make sure Oliver knows that you and I are just good friends.’

  ‘House mates,’ I say dully.

  ‘Yeah,’ he smiles. ‘Driftwood wouldn’t be the same without your labels and rotas.’

  I guess that means a shag tonight is out of the question.

  ‘I’m getting the bill before this woman throws herself onto my lap,’ William says as he signals to the waitress. ‘As she really isn’t my type,’ he laughs.

  I look at the waitress as she approaches. She isn’t his type? But she has the big tits and the legs that come up to her armpits, she is your stereotypical long-legged blonde, and she is ten times prettier than me. If I’m not his type, and she’s not his type then what the hell is his type? Oh my God, he’s not a closeted gay is he? No, Andrea is his type, sophisticated, elegant, fashionable, and confident with an air of grace that I could never carry off. Maybe Andrea is the one for him.

  So, my perfect boyfriend turns out to be my best friend and house mate, and Oliver has to win me back while I live at Driftwood. All I can say is thank goodness for the chocolate teapot. Every woman should have one for the times in life when things get complicated. When the going gets tough the tough get chocolate is my motto.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  ‘He’s playing our song,’ William whispers in my ear.

  William leads me through the throng of people. A pianist’s recital of It had to be you is almost drowned by the hubbub of talking and laughter in the bar. Piers Roche waves as we approach giving William and me a warm smile. He is older than I imagined. His grey hair is expertly styled and he has glasses perched on his head. He takes my hand and kisses it softly. I chose to wear a knee-length black cocktail dress that I had bought last year for a friend’s wedding. I’d refused William’s offer to buy me a dress, feeling it would not go down well with Oliver. Well that’s an understatement; he would have a hundred canary fits if he found out that William was buying me dresses. I had accessorised it with a pearl bracelet and pearl studs and a white pashmina. I wanted to look good for William as I knew this meeting with Roche was important, and had spent forever on my hair, using my curling tongs for so long I’m surprised they didn’t blow up. I’m wearing a pair of high-heel black court shoes and if it wasn’t for William’s arm I feel sure that even the walk to the bar would have had me falling flat on my face.

  ‘William, good to see you,’ he says shaking William’s hand warmly.

  ‘Good to see you too,’ smiles William, draping an arm around me.

  ‘And this is Binki I take it?’

  I nod.

  ‘You look stunning my dear. Let me get you both a drink. What’s your tipple Binki?’

  Would it sound awful to say anything will do?

  ‘White wine, champagne …’ he offers.

  ‘White wine sounds perfect, thank you.’

  ‘And the Highland Park for you if I remember correctly William. I know it has been a while but I recall that was your tipple.’

  ‘And you have an excellent memory,’ nods William.

  Roche gestures to the barman and leads us to some couches in the corner of the bar.

  I follow William’s lead carefully balancing on my heels.

  ‘Have you been here before Binki?’ Roche asks. ‘It’s nice for a pre-dinner drink. But my favourite Chinese restaurant serves up the best food, and you never feel alone there. My wife died two years ago,’ he says, his face darkening. ‘There’s nothing worse than dining alone in a stuffy restaurant.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ I say.

  He shrugs and turns to William.

  ‘How was Brands Hatch?’

  ‘Brilliant, absolutely brilliant,’ smiles William.

  ‘Lucky bugger, I’d love to have a go at that.’

  He sips his drink and then says,

  ‘So, I don’t get it William. I heard from a trustworthy source that Optimun is on the verge of collapse. Now, it’s not like you to get things wrong but you know me, I don’t take chances.’

  William nods and sips from his whisky.

  ‘I’d be interested to know who your source was.’

  Roche laughs.

  ‘I’m sure you would.’

  I bite my lip and say,

  ‘Because whoever they were you can’t trust them. Or should I say you can’t trust where they got their information from. Optimun is far from on the verge of collapse. In fact it was going to flourish with your investment. They have received a government-backed order and have already scaled up their production plant ready to deliver. I’ve been through the details myself and everything is in order, it’s a rock solid investment for you and even William has put a lot of his money into the company, and I believe you know William is not one to take chances either.’

  Ooh I sound dead knowledgeable don’t I? But having looked through a lot of Ellis investment consultant’s accounts, I am starting to think that Nathan is not all he seems.

  He looks at me over the rim of his glass and raises his bushy eyebrows.

  ‘You sound very sure about it. What makes you think my source is unreliable?’

  I open my mouth to reply when a small commotion at the bar and the sound of my name stops me.

  ‘Well, well, if it isn’t Binki shagging Grayson.’

  The hairs on the back of my scalp bristle and I feel my hands tremble as Ben Newman sways towards us. Oh my God. Of all the restaurants in London he has to be in this one. He appears to be with four or five businessmen, all looking just as pissed as him. I’m surprised they let him in. Don’t they have rules about warts on noses? I try to breathe slowly but I find I am almost gasping for breath. William looks at me curiously.

  ‘Ben Newman,’ I whisper.

  He nods and puts his drink onto the table as Ben Newman gets closer.

  ‘Well,’ he drawls lazily scratching his chin, and appraising me. ‘Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.’

  ‘Bad accent mate,’ laughs William. ‘And actually maybe it is the other way around and you have stumbled unwelcomingly into hers.’

  Oh this is terrible. I so wanted to make a good impression for William. This really isn’t going to help him clinch the deal is it?

  ‘I’m so sorry about this,’ I whisper to Roche.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m rather enjoying the drama,’ he smiles.

  ‘And who might you be?’ snarls Newman, his alcohol-fumed breath washing over us.

  ‘William Ellis and this is Piers Roche of …’

  Ben Newman laughs loudly.

  ‘You don’t want to employ her mate. No one in bloody London will employ her. She’s just a shagging bitch who hankers after other men’s …’

  William jumps up and grabs Ben’s arm.

  ‘Now you listen to me. This is a respectable establishment, so what the hell you’re doing in it is beyond me. Now, I know how you sexually harass women at work and if you don’t shut that filthy mouth of yours I’ll shut it for you. Now you back off or believe me I can make sure you never work again and don’t underestimate who you’re dealing with. Do we understand each other?’

  Ben shakes off William’s hand.

  ‘She fucking harassed me,’ he says scornf
ully.

  Roche laughs.

  ‘When did you last look in the mirror,’ he comments dryly. ‘Even I only have to look at her and then you to know who did the harassing. Now I’d take William’s advice if I were you or I’ll have you thrown out of here with a click of a finger.’

  I bite my lip to stop myself from laughing. Ben lurches himself at me and hisses,

  ‘You bitch. Landed on your feet, didn’t you. Slept with them both, threesome was it?’

  Now that is funny. I can’t get one man to sleep with me, at least not one worthwhile, and Ben Newman is suggesting I’ve been having threesomes with William Ellis. You’ve got to laugh haven’t you?

  ‘Yes, that’s right Mr Newman. It’s just been one long orgy for me since I left Temco.’

  ‘Right,’ says William taking Ben’s arm.

  ‘It’s okay dickhead, I’m going. The clientele in this place is enough to make me puke.’

  He pulls his arm away and stumbles to the exit. His business colleagues look embarrassed and they follow a little distance behind.

  ‘I can’t apologise enough,’ I say again, feeling myself blush.

  Roche finishes his drink.

  ‘Let’s have dinner shall we, my chauffeur is waiting outside. Let me take you to the best place in Chinatown.’

  I look at William and he shrugs. We assumed Roche had changed his mind about the Chinese when he had asked us to meet him here. Fortunately there is no sign of Ben Newman as we step into Roche’s silver Mercedes. We drive to Chinatown and turn into Wardour Street, finally pulling up outside a tatty looking restaurant with Peking duck hanging in the window. I look around for a smarter place but see that Roche is already heading for the door. He surely isn’t serious.

  ‘Here it is,’ he says laughing. ‘You don’t get food better than this.’

  We join a queue with other people dressed in jeans and sweaters and I look down at my cocktail dress in despair.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind roughing it,’ Roche smiles. ‘Normally it’s only a five minute wait.’

  I grin at him.

  ‘If you can, I can,’ I say pulling my pashmina closer around me.

  He turns to William.

  ‘I’m with her,’ laughs William, removing his tie.

  How embarrassing. It’s like he’s testing us. After a few minutes we enter the hot restaurant to be met by a harassed waiter. The strong odour of Chinese food hits us and Roche sniffs appreciatively.

  ‘Upstairs, upstairs,’ the harassed waiter shouts.

  In these heels, God, I don’t think so.

  ‘Could we not have that table there?’ I ask, pointing to an empty table.

  ‘You not argue with waiter. Upstairs I say.’

  ‘But,’ I protest.

  ‘You not like, you leave.’

  Roche laughs.

  ‘I think it best not to argue. The thing I love most about this place is the service.’

  And what service would that be exactly?

  ‘Or lack of,’ I mumble

  We clamber up two flights of stairs and are directed to a long table where several diners are already seated.

  ‘I hadn’t realised you’d invited others,’ William says dubiously. I hover anxiously, wondering if William is going to suggest we leave.

  ‘What?’ asks Roche, removing his jacket. ‘Oh I don’t know any of these people. You always sit at a large table here. Good fun don’t you think?’

  We arrange ourselves so William is sitting opposite Roche and I am next to him. On the other side of me sits a man in jeans and a hooded jumper.

  ‘Hello, I’m Alex,’ he says warmly. ‘I’d recommend the Won Ton soup.’

  ‘I agree, it is the best,’ agrees Roche.

  The waiter approaches to take our order and trips over my handbag.

  ‘Oh I’m so sorry,’ I say, leaning down to push it under the table.

  ‘Tsk, trying to kill the waiter,’ he mumbles throwing paper mats in front of us.

  ‘What you want?’ he snaps.

  I look at William who bursts out laughing.

  ‘I guess champagne is out of the question?’

  ‘Bring your own yes?’ asks the waiter.

  Roche pulls two bottles from the carrier bag he was carrying. I wondered what was in that.

  ‘For the table,’ he says.

  ‘Cool,’ says Alex.

  ‘Cheers mate,’ says another sitting opposite William.

  ‘I’ll have a Tiger beer,’ says William.

  ‘Me too,’ I say slipping off my shoes.

  ‘Make that three,’ says Roche. ‘Bring glasses for the champagne too please.’

  ‘You want caviar too maybe?’ snaps the waiter.

  William laughs and winks at me.

  ‘Forget the caviar, we’ll opt for the Won Ton soup, three of those,’ orders Roche. ‘It is indeed superb.’

  The place is buzzing with waiters shouting everywhere and customers laughing along with the clatter of cutlery. I remove the pashmina and relax my shoulders. The truth is I am far more comfortable in a place like this. We clink our beer bottles and I feel myself relax.

  ‘So, tell me about Optimun and why I should invest in a company that’s about to collapse,’ says Roche.

  ‘I don’t ever advise unless I know it’s a sure thing. Whether you’re investing five pounds or five million. I know my companies. If there is even a whisper of a problem I’d never recommend it. You know me Piers,’ says William.

  ‘I also hear you got money problems.’

  I nearly choke on my beer. I meet William’s eyes to try and gauge his reaction but there is nothing. He puts his beer down and leans forward towards Roche.

  ‘There is only one thing I’ve got a problem with and that’s lying. My dad taught me everything I know about business …’

  ‘And he was a good businessman and we all miss him. It’s sad when a boy loses a father so young like you did but that’s …’

  ‘And the biggest lesson he taught me was to always be honest in business. Without your investment Optimun will go under, I’ll be frank. It was on the strength of your investment they got the contract. They will lose that now. I’ve lost money. But when I brokered you this deal it was with honesty and integrity. The company was doing well.’

  ‘I was advised that I would do better to go with Lansdowne. Apparently that company is really taking off according to my sources …’

  ‘I don’t know who your sources are but they’re badly informed,’ William says with a smile. ‘Lansdowne is a flash in the pan. It will do okay but most of the guys on the board are wide boys without a clue what they’re doing. I’d never advise you to invest in a company like that. Your sure investment is with Optimun …’

  ‘You order main course now?’ interrupts a waiter, plonking our soups onto the table.

  ‘Erm in a minute …’ I begin.

  ‘We got queues downstairs, you hurry yes.’

  ‘They’re discussing business,’ says the guy next to me.

  ‘We restaurant not bloody office,’ yells the waiter before tripping over my handbag again.

  ‘Move dangerous thing,’ he demands, making it sound like a grenade.

  ‘Excuse me,’ calls a lady at the opposite table. ‘How much longer will our food be?’

  ‘You leave if you not like,’ he says walking off.

  I laugh with Roche and study the menu.

  ‘I think we should order our main course. I fear for our heads otherwise,’ says William.

  ‘There must be reason why your source misled you,’ I say quietly, tasting my soup which is superb just as Roche had promised.

  The dumplings are sumptuous. To think I was worried how I would eat when I lost my job. I’ve eaten more in the last few weeks than I have in years.

  He nods.

  ‘So, have you met William’s accountant, Nathan?’ he asks, making direct eye contact with me.

  I bide my time and sip some champagne.

  ‘Yes,
I don’t know him very well though.’

  William is discussing our main order with the waiter and Roche leans closer.

  ‘I see him a lot at the casino. I get the feeling he’s not too lucky sometimes. Just a feeling, you know what I mean?’

  I nod.

  ‘So you can say to me hand on heart that I can trust William?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say in a heartbeat and realise that I mean it.

  ‘I suppose you would say I should trust her,’ he says to William.

  ‘She’s one of the best friends I’ve got,’ William says smiling at me. ‘I trust her.’

  Roche nods.

  ‘What did you order us lad?’

  ‘King fried prawns in sizzling sauce, roast duck Cantonese style and lobster with ginger and spring onions. I remember the last time we ate out together that was your favourite.’

  Roche’s slaps his thigh.

  ‘And it still is.’

  The rest of the evening flew by with great food and great company. Our table was the most raucous in the restaurant and the food just kept on coming. Forget the small bungalow and just think Downton Abbey. I’ll have to invest in a whole new wardrobe at this rate. Roche was sharing jokes with Alex, and William was explaining investments to another couple on the table.

  ‘I’m getting the bill before Piers beats me to it,’ William says, laying his arm on my shoulder sending a tingle through me. It isn’t desire, it isn’t lust, but it’s something I can’t quite define. It’s like a familiarity. It’s as if I have known him all my life. How can it be possible to be more comfortable with William than I am with Oliver? I watch him talking to the waiter and at that moment a woman approaches him. William turns and begins chatting to her, his face animated. I see her hand him something, a card or a piece of paper, her phone number I imagine. More condoms to be purchased, no doubt he has shares in Durex. He sees me looking and gives a little wave. I wave back and find myself wondering what Oliver is doing right now. Is he out at dinner, maybe even chatting up a woman like William? Is he feeling fed up that I’m taking so long to accept his marriage proposal? The ring was lovely, I had to admit. Just the kind of ring I had always dreamt Oliver would give me. I’ll need to talk to him about a few things before I say yes though. This whole sailor malarkey has got to stop for a start, unless Oliver can transform himself somehow into Johnny Depp for thirty minutes. I’m no prude. I’m more than happy to look at the odd blue movie if that helps, although I have to admit that two weeks working in the sex shop has rather made me a little immune to them. I may as well be watching Red Dwarf for all the effect they have on me. Of course we can’t live in the Notting Hill flat. God knows how we will get out of the tenancy agreement. Perhaps Oliver can find new tenants for the landlord. Then there is the matter of Amanda Rowland. God, by the time we get this lot sorted I’ll be thirty-five and my body clock will no doubt have stopped by then. Why is romance so complicated? No, the real question is, why are men little shits?