‘Why would you do that?’
I shook my head. ‘Do you really not know what it means when a girl you’ve been out with doesn’t take your calls?’
‘Can’t say it’s ever happened before.’
‘Look, I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, but – well, I never should’ve gone out with you when I knew you weren’t my type. It wasn’t fair and I’m sorry. Let’s just leave it at that, shall we?’
He frowned. ‘You mean you still don’t like me?’
Bloody eureka…
‘You’re not as bad as I once thought,’ I admitted. ‘But I don’t like you like you. Sorry. And I’m not in a great place to be dating right now, to be honest. I lost my dad earlier this year.’
‘Did you? I didn’t know that.’
‘Well, no. You wouldn’t, would you?’ I glared at him. ‘Tell me one thing you do know about me, Harper. Just one.’
‘Why?’
‘Humour me.’
‘Ok, well, you…’ He hesitated, scanning my body for clues. ‘…you play in a band?’
‘What instrument?’
‘Er, trumpet?’
‘Wrong. Anything else?’
‘You’re at least an E-cup?’
I shook my head. ‘Typical. Ok, my turn. Your mum’s called Sonia. She patented the upside-down squeezy sauce bottle, raised you alone and died when you were 18. You’ve got an agent, Bernice, and you reckon you’ll get a BAFTA nomination next year. You won Rear of the Year 2013 and you’re excessively proud of the fact. Your favourite colour’s duck-egg blue, your favourite animal’s an armadillo and you take a size 11 shoe – shall I go on?’
‘Bloody hell,’ Harper said, blinking. ‘You know all that about me?’
‘I could probably reel off your inside leg measurement, mate,’ I said. ‘Know why? Because when we went out, you spent over an hour talking about yourself and didn’t ask me a thing.’
‘Come on, that’s not fair.’
‘I’m telling you, Harper. Not a single, solitary thing,’ I said. ‘Look, I’ll see you later, ok?’
I turned to head back to the band marquee. There was ten minutes yet, but Roger was there arranging his music and it seemed as good a way to escape as any.
‘Lana, wait.’ Harper put one hand on my shoulder. ‘Don’t go yet. Let me say one last thing.’
‘Ok, what?’
‘Look, women don’t say no to me. That doesn’t happen.’
‘Well, it just did, so…’
His brow knit into a puzzled frown. ‘Ok, suppose it did. But it’s pretty rare.’
‘Where are you headed with this, Harper?’ I demanded. ‘You’re not going Indecent Proposal on me, are you? Because I can promise you, I don’t need the money that badly.’
‘No. I’m apologising, aren’t I?’
‘Are you?’ I shook my head. ‘You must be seriously out of practice.’
He smiled. ‘I am a bit. What’s the usual way?’
‘You’d start with a sorry, usually. A brag about being irresistible to women: less common.’
‘Ok, then I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry for being like I am, and I’m sorry you didn’t have a nice time when we went out. I know I’m hard work, Stew tells me all the time. I can’t help it.’
‘Course you can help it. That’s just an excuse.’
‘You have to understand, Lana. Nearly all my life I’ve been told exactly what I want to hear. If I wanted something, I just took it… until you came along.’ He dipped his head to look into my eyes. ‘I – well, the truth is I keep thinking about you. Since we went out you’re in my head, all the time, and I don’t know what to do about it.’
‘Because I’m something you can’t have.’
‘No. Because you treat me like a real person. Because you’re different from anyone else in my life. I want to keep you in it.’
I shook my head. ‘I’m sorry. I do like you – sort of. Sometimes. But you’re not right for me and that’s an end of it.’
‘I could change. With someone like you to show me how I could.’
‘But that’s not good enough, is it? I’m not a prop for you, Harper. I’ve got my own life, I wasn’t put on this earth to show you how to live yours.’
‘Won’t you just go out with me again?’ he said, his blue eyes pleading. ‘This time I want to hear all about you, babe: every little thing.’
‘No, Harper. Look, I’ve got to go.’
‘Come on, just once to make it up to you. I’ll take you to Venice.’
I snorted. ‘That better be the name of a cocktail bar.’
‘Seriously. I know this adorable little place on the water. I can fly us out there, it’ll be romantic.’
‘See, this is exactly what I mean,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘Big, showy gestures like flying to Venice aren’t a substitute for genuine interest in the other person, Harper.’
‘But I am interested, promise. Won’t you? It doesn’t have to be Venice. You can pick the place, anywhere you want.’
‘I told you, no. I just don’t see you that way, I’m sorry. I have to go now, my conductor’s staring at me.’
‘All right, bye then,’ he muttered, looking dejected under his white facepaint. ‘You’ve got my number if you change your mind.’
‘Oh, and Lana?’ he said as I turned to go.
I glanced over my shoulder. ‘What now?’
‘I’m sorry about your dad. I know what it’s like to lose a parent too young.’ He smiled: a warm, sneer-free smile different than his usual lip-curl. Suddenly he looked a lot more like Stew. ‘It does get easier, I promise.’
I blinked. ‘That’s… well, thanks, Harper. See you around, I guess.’
***
It was dark by the time we finished playing, and most of the crowd had disappeared.
The plan was for volunteers to get everything tidied away then head to the Fox for a post-fundraiser pint. When I eventually made it over, I found all our group except Cameron already there, a bottle of prosecco in a cooler between them.
‘Are we celebrating?’ I asked, claiming a seat next to Tom and helping myself to a glass.
‘Yep.’ Stewart shot me a warm smile. I dropped eye contact, remembering our kiss earlier. ‘Ask Gerry why.’
‘You haven’t counted up already, Gerry?’
Gerry grinned. ‘Not all of it, but I can give you the estimated profit.’
‘Oh my God!’ I said, clocking his triumphant expression. ‘We hit target?’
‘And then some. Looking like we made eight grand.’
‘We never! From a little village event? That’s incredible!’
‘It’s not all from stalls,’ Tom said. He looked a little down, I couldn’t help noticing. ‘There was a three grand donation as well. Mr Squeezy Sauce. He gave Stew a cheque before he left.’
I frowned. ‘Did he now?’
‘Yeah,’ Stewart said. ‘Maybe he thought that Grim Reaper bloke was the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come or something. Suddenly he’s riddled with charitable feelings towards his fellow man.’
‘Hmm.’ I took a meditative sip of my wine. The fizzy stuff tended to go straight to my head, and I made a mental note to take it slow. ‘I’m not sure we should accept it.’
‘Why not, chicken?’ Sue asked.
‘Well…’ I hesitated, wondering how much I wanted to tell them. ‘Ok, this might sound weird, but I think he’s trying to impress me.’
Yolanda laughed. ‘You? Don’t be silly.’
I glared at her. ‘And what’s so incredible about that, Yo-yo?’
‘Oh, I didn’t mean to insult you,’ she said. ‘It’s just that he’s Harper Brady, isn’t he? His last girlfriend was Ava Dubois – you know, the supermodel? I saw a photoshoot with them in Hello earlier this year. I mean, no
offence in the world, Lana. You’re very pretty when you make the effort, but…’
She trailed off, the words ‘you’re no supermodel’ hanging unsaid in the air.
‘That thing with Ava was a PR stunt,’ Stewart said. ‘His agent set it up to build some publicity for Soar and her new perfume range.’
‘Good God! Really?’ Yolanda looked as if her whole world had been rocked. I mean, if you couldn’t even trust Hello, what hope was there for humanity?
‘Not that Harper doesn’t do all right for himself, for some unknown reason.’ Stew sent me a look, one I couldn’t quite interpret. ‘He does seem keen on our Lana though.’
‘But why?’ Yolanda said.
‘Well, Yo-yo, maybe, just maybe, he appreciates my many sterling qualities and sparkling personality.’ I sighed. ‘Plus he’s got a thing for my boobs.’
‘Oh.’ Yolanda shot them an envious glance. ‘Well, if he likes it that obvious…’
‘Lana’s a beautiful girl,’ Stewart said, taking a casual gulp of prosecco. ‘Harper’s a lot of things but he’s not stupid.’
‘Um, thanks,’ I mumbled. From the corner of my eye I saw Sue fix me with an appraising stare.
‘So do you think we should take the money, Stew?’ Tom asked. ‘I don’t want to repair the viaduct if it means pimping out my sister.’
‘Absolutely we should take it,’ Stewart said firmly. ‘Three grand’s spare change to Harper, he’s probably already forgotten he donated it. About time he started spending on good causes instead of fast cars.’
‘Lana?’ Tom said.
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Doesn’t feel right, somehow.’
‘How did it come about, Stewart?’ Sue asked.
‘Harper asked what we were raising money for so I told him all about the viaduct. Your dad,’ he said, nodding to me and Tom. ‘And he said he wanted to make a donation.’
‘Did he mention me?’ I said.
‘He said he’d been talking to you. Said he was a selfish bastard and it was about time he started thinking about other people a bit.’ He shook his head. ‘I think he might be ill.’
‘Are we keeping it then?’ Gerry was looking panicked at the idea of giving back money.
‘Yes,’ I said at last. ‘If that’s what he said.’ I laughed. ‘Hey, this’ll be the first Grand Départ fuelled by ketchup.’
Gerry breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Champion. I’ll send him a thank-you letter from the group.’
‘Can’t believe we made target.’ I topped up my prosecco. ‘Where’s Cam? He should be here for this.’
Tom flushed. ‘Not coming. We had another row.’
‘Oh no, Tommy. Not the parent thing again.’
‘Yeah. Told him I’m not going and that’s final, so he stormed off.’
‘Why you don’t just go meet them?’ Gerry said. ‘I know his dad. Top bloke, he’s on the darts team.’
‘It’s not that though, is it? You only get one chance to make a first impression. I just want to wait till we’ve been together a bit longer.’ Tom swiftly changed the subject. ‘You seen who’s serving food tonight, Lana?’
I followed his gaze to the waitress taking someone’s order at a nearby table. ‘Jaz?’
‘Yeah, Billy’s offered her some work. She’s trying to get a bit of money saved up before uni.’
I smiled. ‘She took that place then.’
‘Yep. Looks like we’ll be advertising for a new waitress next summer.’
Chapter 34
An hour or so in, our ‘swift half’ had turned into a bit of a session, for me anyway. After the stress of the day, the prosecco was slipping down far too easily. Sue had taken a tipsy Gerry home for an ear-bending, Yolanda had disappeared, so there was just me, Tom and Stewart left.
‘Right,’ Tom said, getting to his feet. ‘I can’t sit here drowning my sorrows with you losers all night. I’m going home to ring Cam, see if I can wheedle my way back into his good graces.’
I blinked groggily at him. ‘You’re not leaving me?’
He shrugged. ‘You’re a big girl. Anyway, Stew can see you home. And by “see” I do mean “carry”.’
I glanced at Stewart, who was leaning on one elbow looking at me, his eyes soft just like after we kissed. Only blurrier, because for some reason my vision had gone a bit funny.
‘Unless you’re ready to go now?’ Tom said.
‘No, I’ll finish this one, I think,’ I said after a pause. ‘If Stew’s staying.’
He smiled. ‘I am if you are.’
When Tom had gone, Stewart shuffled his chair round to mine.
‘Why’re you drinking so fast, Lana?’ he asked in that gentle voice I hated because it confused the hell out of me.
‘None of your business.’
‘Come on. You’re not going to be all prickly at me, are you?’
I giggled. ‘Like a hedgehog. Hedgehogs are awesome.’
He nodded. ‘Hedgehogs are awesome. Hey, is that your sixth prosecco?’
‘Dunno. Stopped counting.’
‘Did Harper upset you today?’
‘Not him. Yo-yo.’
‘Oh, ignore her,’ Stewart said, flicking a hand. ‘You know what she’s like. Trust me, you’re ten times sexier than Ava Dubois.’
‘Not then. Before. With the… cards.’ I tried to focus on his face. ‘You kissed me.’
‘Best quid I ever earned.’
I bobbed my head fuzzily at him. ‘Do it again.’
He hesitated. ‘You’re asking me to kiss you?’
‘Yeah. Don’t you want to?’
‘God, yes, course I do. But when I imagined it, I always thought you’d be more – ’ He squinted into my face. ‘Well, I thought you might have your eyes open properly for a start.’
‘This is an experiment kiss though. Go on.’
He leaned forward, and I lifted my lips to him. But at the last minute he pulled away.
‘No, Lana, I can’t. You don’t know what you’re saying.’
I snorted. ‘Patronising.’
‘What’s the experiment for?’ he asked.
‘Trying to work out if you’re Death.’
‘Right.’ He frowned. ‘Are you calling me names, Miss Donati? Didn’t have you down as one of those fighty drunks.’
‘Ahhh,’ I said, waving a finger at him. ‘But that’s the classic mistake. Death doesn’t mean death. It means… happy. Or something.’
‘Not making much sense tonight, are you?’ He slung an arm around me and squeezed me against him. ‘I still like you though.’
‘Kiss me then.’
‘Well, just a little one. But you owe the viaduct fund another quid.’
He leaned round and planted the lightest, gentlest kiss on my mouth. My eyes fell closed and a little ‘ah’ escaped from between my lips.
‘So? How was the experiment?’ he asked softly.
‘Tasted of wine.’ I tilted my lips up. ‘Need to try again. For… control or whatever.’
‘No, love, not tonight.’ He smiled. ‘Hey, should I be worried you only fancy me when you’re on some mind-altering substance?’
‘Nuh-uh. I fancy you all the time. Just don’t want you to know.’ I blinked. ‘Did I say that out loud?’
‘Yep.’
‘Bollocks.’
He sighed. ‘Will you ever forgive me properly, Lana? I said I was sorry.’
‘Well sorry doesn’t cut it, Johnny Cheekbones.’ I downed the dregs of my prosecco. ‘You know your problem? You’re an ostrich.’
‘Right. Um, what?’
‘You’re physically incapabubble of facing up to things. First sign of trouble, that stupid blonde head goes straight in the sand.’
‘You know they don’t actually do that, right? It’s an urban myth.’
‘I don’t care if they do it,’ I said, pouring the last of the fizzy wine. ‘You do it, you ostrichy bastard.’
‘Ok. Someone’s had enough booze for one night, I think.’
He reached out to draw my wine away but I clung to it protectively.
‘No! Mine. Get your own ostrich drink, ostrich.’
‘Can you stop calling me an ostrich?’
‘Stop being an ostrich and I’ll stop calling you one. Ostrich.’ My face crumpled as I took another gulp of wine. ‘Want to know why you’re an ostrich?’
‘Oh God yes, please share so we can move on from the ostrich thing.’
‘One year and some months ago we went out on a date.’ I pointed an accusing finger. ‘Go on, deny it.’
‘I can’t, can I?’
‘The one thing that happened to vary the monotonotony, the one bright spot in a life filled with someone else’s pain. Someone I loved. And then you went and hid your head in the sand, and everything was greyer than it was the day before.’ I glared at him. ‘I never knew to be miserable until you came along with your bloody… contrast.’
‘Lana…’ He reached for my hand, but I jerked it away. ‘Is that really how it felt for you?’
‘No. It felt fucking worse. And then you swan back here, grinning away and going on about being friends like it was all just nothing. Well not to me it wasn’t, mate. Not to me.’ I gave in and let the sobs overwhelm me. ‘It might’ve been just one night in your whole glamorous, telly-star-hobnobbing existence to you, McLean, but for me it was… hope. And you snatched it back as quickly as you brought it. You could just’ve texted to say you weren’t interested… oh God.’
‘But I was interested,’ he said softly. ‘I never meant to hurt you, Lana. I’m sorry, I really am.’
‘So you keep saying. And yet here we are.’ I wobbled slightly on my stool and made an effort to pull myself straight.
‘Come on.’ Stewart stood and guided me to my feet. ‘I spend a lot of my time these days helping you home when you’re out of it, don’t I? But you’re worth it.’
‘Are we going?’ I mumbled.
‘Yes, kid. You need your bed now.’ He supported me to the door, sending an apologetic smile to Jasmine clearing tables as we passed.
Outside, I almost tripped over a snogging couple pressing each other up against the wall.
A Bicycle Made For Two Page 26
