‘I can’t,’ said Coco. ‘I’ve got a delivery coming from the warehouse. I just hope they remember to put that new Beckham perfume in the consignment. I’ll go spare if they don’t. Anyway, I digress – who’s your date with then?’
‘Ralph, forty, own house, own printing business and own everything else. Very nice-looking too.’
‘Where are you meeting?’
‘He’s cooking me dinner at his.’
‘Oh Ju—’
Juliet had anticipated this and cut him off. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll make sure I leave a trail in case he’s a serial killer. I’ll give you his full name and address and ring you and Floz when I arrive.’
‘Do you have it now? I have a pen and paper handy.’
‘Okay, hang on.’ Juliet got her diary out of her handbag. ‘His name is Ralph Green and his address is ten, Riffington Place.’
‘Ten, Riffington Place . . . why does that ring a bell?’ mused Coco, scribbling it down.
‘Haven’t a clue, but he’s in the directory because I checked. If that makes you feel any better.’
‘This is so not sensible, going to someone’s house, you know,’ said Coco, his voice weighted with concern. ‘There you are telling me to meet a date somewhere safe and then you go and walk into a spider’s parlour like a stupid fly.’
‘Yes, but I’m a damn big fly who you wouldn’t mess with. Plus I’ve got a good vibe about him. And it was Ralph who said that I should make sure a good friend knew where I’m going.’
‘Well, okay then. But we’ll have a code and if you’re in any trouble at all when I ring to check on you, say the word . . .’ He thought hard. ‘Ripper.’
‘That’s going to be a bit obvious, isn’t it?’ laughed Juliet. ‘I’ll say “fab”, okay?’
‘I’m not happy, Ju.’
‘Bugger off, you big fairy. I’ll be fine.’
Juliet couldn’t wait until 7 p.m. She took a long lunch-hour and hit the shops because she was going to buy something clingy and gorgeous for tonight. Sex on a first – blind – date wouldn’t be on the cards, but she and Ralph might get carried away and go a little down the foreplay path. Really it was a bit wanton of her going to his house, but she had no doubt that he was a decent guy (she just hoped he wasn’t too decent). Plus Ralph had told her to make sure her friends knew exactly where she was. Or rather he had ‘written’ that because they hadn’t actually spoken other than on MSN. But how could his voice be anything other than sultry, after looking at that profile picture?
She bought a short satiny shift dress in dark purple and colour-matching wedge shoes in suede. She rang Floz when she got back to the office to tell her about the date, as Floz had still – unusually for her – been asleep when Juliet left for work.
‘Floz, I’ll be home at five-thirty on the dot and I need some serious time in the bathroom, so if you were thinking of having a bath, will you do me a favour and not?’
‘Of course,’ said Floz. ‘I’ll make sure the decks are clear for you. What’s he like? Where did you meet him? And where is he taking you?’
‘I found him on Singlebods,’ said Juliet, anticipating what would come next when she told Floz that she was going to dinner at his house. ‘And yes, I’ll be careful, and yes, I’ll give you his address and phone number and I promise I won’t get murdered.’
‘Okay,’ said Floz, trying to sound a little bit more cheerful and positive than she felt. Because Juliet was at least doing the right thing in moving a cyber-relationship into real life as soon as humanly possible. Cyber-relationships had the potential to wound just as much as real-life ones. Maybe more so because cyber-partners were tailor-made for each other, their faults smoothed out by imaginations hell-bent on wanting to create the perfect being.
Coco rang Juliet mid-afternoon. He wasn’t in the best of moods.
‘Gideon hasn’t rung me.’
‘It’s only half-past two,’ chided Juliet. ‘Be patient.’
‘He said he would ring me and he hasn’t. I can’t understand it – we had a lovely night.’ Coco was almost in tears.
‘Chill, my love,’ said Juliet kindly. ‘He might be busy or driving. Go and do some work and put him out of your mind.’
‘Okay,’ said Coco, ringing off.
‘Was that Raymond on the phone again?’ laughed Daphne, delivering a cup of coffee to Juliet’s desk. She had lived on the same street as Coco’s family for thirty years and was privy to his real name. She, like Grainne and Perry, had never been able to comfortably think of him as Coco.
‘Yep,’ said Juliet. ‘He’s in a flap. He had a date and the guy hasn’t phoned him yet.’
‘Patience never was his best virtue,’ nodded Daphne. ‘Harry didn’t contact me for two weeks after our first date. Mind you, he soon bucked up his ideas when he found out that another lad had taken me dancing. He moved like a bloody express train then.’
‘How long have you been married now, Daphne?’ asked Amanda, taking off her typing headset and joining in the coffee break.
‘Twenty-nine years. Pearl celebration on November the twelfth. We’re having a do at our Linda’s house and you’re both invited. She’s had a party room extension built,’ Daphne added proudly.
‘Ooh lovely,’ squealed Amanda. ‘What made you get married in November though? Wasn’t it freezing?’
Daphne shook her head. ‘It was the most beautiful late-autumn day. The leaves were blowing in the air like confetti and the sun was like a big scoop of Cream of Cornish. I’ve always thought autumn was the loveliest season.’
‘I suppose it is,’ Juliet agreed. She’d never considered how pretty an autumn wedding could be.
Juliet’s office phone rang again and interrupted Daphne’s trip down a leafy Memory Lane.
‘Gideon still hasn’t rung,’ wailed Coco. ‘Why? What’s wrong with me? Should I ring him?’
Juliet sighed. She had sooo missed Coco’s relationship dramatics. Not.
‘We got on so well.’ There was a tidal wave of sobs building in Coco’s voice. ‘He can’t be another one who just buggers off without warning, can he?’
Juliet bit her tongue because had she said what was on her mind, Coco would have probably been suicidal.
‘Darling, if you ring, you’ll look intense. You’re worth chasing, so let him chase you. You shouldn’t have to remind him of your presence because if you’re not on his mind, then he’s no good for you.’
‘But—’
‘Just be patient. If he wants to ring you, he will. If he doesn’t want to ring you, then he’s not the man for you.’
‘Bastard!’ snapped Coco. ‘I’m so cross I could spit.’
‘Then go spit,’ laughed Juliet gently. ‘And keep the faith because someone out there will not let you down.’
As she said the words to Coco, she hoped she sounded more convincing than she felt. Since the betrayal of Hattie and Roger, Juliet had begun to wonder more and more if there was anyone out there to whom she would be able to trust her heart.
Chapter 18
Coco rang Juliet half an hour later to say that even if Gideon did ring now, he could stuff off as he had erased his mobile number from his phone. He rang again just as Juliet was pushing the door open to her flat to say that Gideon had been in touch and explained that he’d been out with a customer all day. Coco was in raptures and Gideon was once again added to his contact list.
‘Oh God, it just does not get any easier, this courtship lark,’ groaned Juliet, plonking herself next to Floz on the sofa for five minutes before she began the great getting-ready-for-a-date ceremony. ‘Coco has been doing my head in all day.’ And she went on to explain why Coco had his Calvins in such a twist.
‘Poor Coco,’ said Floz. ‘It’s hard opening yourself up and becoming all vulnerable again.’
Juliet sniffed. ‘Personally, I don’t get the problem. If you have a good time but your date doesn’t contact you the next day, they’re obviously not interested enough to see you again – s
imple. If you’re worth chasing, they chase.’ She raised her hands to gesture how stupidly obvious it was.
‘Women are daft for filling in the blanks. “Oh, he hasn’t rung me because he’s lost his phone,” or “He’s been kidnapped by aliens,” or “He might have been run down”. They’ll believe anything rather than, “He doesn’t want to see me again and daren’t tell me”. Now I’m putting on the kettle before I jump in the bath. Tea or coffee?’
Floz answered coffee, and was only relieved that she didn’t have to enter the argument and explain that sometimes there really were genuine reasons why someone might just cut and go.
She waved Juliet off later and then read the email which had landed an hour ago, but which she wanted to save until she was alone.
Cherrylips
Talked with my mom this morning and cancelled my chemo. No great dispute from my doctor,just said he understood. Going on a family fishing trip up to Warhorse.Too nice a weekend coming up to spend indoors and I’ve been indoors too much the last while.Sending you this attachment,renamed it but what they going to do about it? And its my view on almost everything.Hope they never turn this into rap,it would end civilization forever.
Wish I could have taken you on a fishing trip,in spite of the fact that I’d have had to worm your hooks,but that’s another lifetime away now and some place to dream of for me.Fascination creates more fascination most days.
Nick
Floz remembered how he’d planned to take her fishing one day and then they were going to cook their catches on a barbecue in the woods behind his house. She felt a pain deep inside her. She opened the desk drawer, got out her headphones and plugged them into the side of her computer, then she opened the attachment which had been labelled What I feel about life now. The gentle stringed opening of the Louis Armstrong version of ‘What a Wonderful World’ began and she listened to the lyrics, trying to imagine the mindset of a man who had accepted that he was shortly going to leave it, and she sobbed hard in the empty flat. The sound was that of an animal in pain.
Chapter 19
Coco might have been a ‘giddy’un’ about Gideon but that was nothing compared to what Juliet had become at the prospect of a man cooking her dinner, which she thought was a very sexy proposal. She had tried not to be stupid and map out the future, but lurid pictures were crossing her mind of a few dates down the line and Ralph taking off her dress and kissing his way down her body with expert skill.
Her SatNav was telling her that she was now turning into Riffington Place. She tried to see the numbers of the houses – 96, 94, 92 – so she still had a way to go to 10. She was in a sedate estate on the outskirts of the village of Lower Hoppleton, one that looked like Pensioners’ Land. 38, 36, 34 . . . any minute now. Juliet was nearly exploding with anticipation. 24, 22, 20 . . . She checked the piece of paper again that had Ralph’s number written on it. Yep, it was definitely 10.
When she found it, she texted Floz to say she had arrived and then rang Coco.
‘Ooh, what’s his house like?’ said Coco excitedly.
‘It’s a bungalow and the door has a stained-glass picture of a big bird.’
Coco could read a very unmerry note in her voice. ‘What’s up with that?’
‘Nothing,’ said Juliet, who hadn’t mentioned the chintzy frilly curtains at the window, where she had pictured wooden blinds, or the hedge cut into a cockerel shape. Or the gnomes peeping from behind foliage in the garden.
‘Go enjoy. Judgeth not a man by his front door,’ said Coco. ‘Anyway, bugger off, I need to have a shower. You aren’t the only one with a date this evening, girl. However, my mobile will be in my pocket at all times if you need me. Remember, “fab” is code red.’
Juliet lifted her bottle of wine and locked the car door. Yes, Coco was right, she was being overly judgemental. She would have had something to moan about if the house had been a scruffy dump with an old car parked in the middle of the garden. Excitement started to surge through her as her heels tappy-tapped on the crazy-paved path. She saw the doorbell was next to a plaque bearing the name of the house – Holmlea – which she wished she hadn’t seen as its cheesiness made her cringe. She pressed her thumb on the button and a cheap tinkly tune rang out – the first few bars from the theme tune to EastEnders. She had a sudden lump of dread in her stomach, which thankfully cleared when she saw the silhouette behind the door which she recognized immediately as handsome Ralph. Then the lump drew back as the door opened and Ralph appeared there, looking older and chunkier than his profile picture, in a dark brown cardigan and matching house slippers. Those photos he posted on his profile had obviously been lucky ones.
Ralph smiled widely at the sight of Juliet and said, in a voice that sounded as if it had been issued from his nose whilst totally bypassing his voice box, ‘Come in, dear Juliet, come in. Tea’s just about ready.’
Juliet, for all that she wanted to run back to the car, found herself not wanting to be rude after he had gone to the trouble of cooking a meal. She told herself that she would stay an hour – it wouldn’t kill her. Ralph moved aside to let her enter and gave her a kiss on the cheek. He smelled nice, at least. He had obviously shaved for the occasion and applied cologne. But was it enough to offset the gnomes and the cardigan and the slippers and the nasally voice?
‘Don’t be rotten,’ said an inner voice of reason. ‘Your dad wears those sorts of slippers and the occasional cardigan and they don’t make your mum want to throw up. And let’s not even talk about your bunny slippers, Juliet Miller.’
Juliet followed Ralph down a short hallway, the walls covered in black and white and sepia family portraits in frames and into a neat square lounge with a tiled fireplace and furnishings in a limited colour palette of browns, beiges and light bile green. A massive old-fashioned radio sat in the corner. It was like something out of the war. She half-expected Vera Lynn to leap out from behind it singing ‘White Cliffs of Dover’.
‘I thought it was a bit chilly, so I made a fire,’ said Ralph and he smiled, and Juliet saw brown bits stuck in his lower teeth. She tried to smile back but her mouth wasn’t behaving and it ended up more like a twisted grimace.
‘I brought you this,’ she said, handing over the wine. He had nice hands at least, she thought as he reached for it, desperately trying to see something positive and make her last the hour.
‘Later,’ he said. ‘I’ve just brewed a big pot of tea. Can I take your coat?’
‘Oh, it’s okay, I’ll just keep it here, behind me,’ said Juliet, removing it. The room was boiling hot with that real fire blazing out. Thanks to the archaic setting, the fire didn’t look as cosy as it should have.
‘I’ll get you some refreshment,’ Ralph said, sweeping his eyes quickly and approvingly over her short dress which she could now see was a totally unsuitable buy for this evening. Ralph edged backwards out of the door as if she was the Queen and he daren’t turn his back on her. Juliet heard him clattering about in the next room, presumably the kitchen, and realized she’d been naive for taking the way a man wrote emails for his total sum. The Robert De Niro hunk she had visualized had turned out to be Rigsby from Rising Damp.
Juliet looked around. The furniture was old-fashioned and dark, polished to a high shine though. The two sofas were bulky with precisely placed cream antimacassars draped over their back and arms. Cushions embroidered with the names Ralph and Mum were arranged neatly. More old photographs were hung on the walls and there were loads of ornaments on shelves – brass ones and some Spanish dolls in bright dresses in a cabinet along with an old tea-set and the top layer of a very old wedding cake with a faded bride and groom on top. And some bits of porcelain with Mother written on them.
‘Here we are,’ said Ralph, appearing at the door with a tray, which he set on Juliet’s lap. There was a dainty china cup of tea on it, a little milk and sugar jug, and a big plate of pie and mash and carrots. And a bottle of brown sauce. ‘The pie is my own recipe,’ he said with pride.
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�Oh lovely,’ said Juliet, thrown by yet another vision smashed. She’d expected a three-course meal at a dinner-table and long champagne flutes full of fizz which they’d chink together and toast their first meet.
Juliet was starving and it did look rather good – if plain. She took a forkful of pie, sniffing it surreptitiously for any strange chemical smells which would render her unconscious and unable to ring Floz and Coco after an hour to ‘check in’.
Ralph had seated himself on the sofa opposite to her and was watching her chew with open glee. Juliet smiled awkwardly through her mouthful, but Ralph remained there watching her.
‘Where’s yours?’ she asked after a second forkful.
‘Oh, I had mine with Mother at five p.m.,’ he replied. ‘She won’t wait and she hates eating alone. I like her to have eaten by five-thirty then she can have her tablet and be asleep by six-thirty. Hopefully all night, although you never can tell these days.’ He sighed fondly.
‘So, you live with your mother?’ said Juliet. Nice as the pie was, she didn’t want to sit here eating it alone with a man with bits of meat in his teeth staring at her.
‘Yes,’ said Ralph. ‘She has the back bedroom and I have the front and I work from the third bedroom which is extended out into the garden. I’ll show it to you after sweet. I’ve got a coffee Viennetta.’
Inside Juliet’s head, her brain was screaming, ‘Help!’ Then in her pocket her phone rumbled.
‘Oh excuse me,’ she said, taking it out and seeing Floz’s lovely name flash on the screen.
‘Are you all right?’ asked her flat-mate. ‘I know I said I’d ring after an hour but I thought I’d check on you a little bit earlier than that.’
‘You are joking!’ said Juliet, grabbing this chance at escape with both hands and feet. ‘How did you do that?’
‘Do what?’ said Floz.
‘Have you rung an ambulance? You mustn’t move. Stay right where you are. I’m on my way!’
An Autumn Crush Page 9
