by Lucy Diamond
‘Well, good for you, feisty Jess,’ I said, pouring wine into glasses. ‘Now then … we have booze, we have M&S canapés, we have you two and your beautifying potions … all we need now are some clients and we’ve got us a party!’
The buzzer went and we all giggled.
‘And as if by magic …’ Patrick said, grinning. ‘Let’s get this party started!’
In came the clients, looking around tentatively at first, but visibly warming up as Patrick and I made a fuss of them, plied them with drink and introduced them to Jess and Phoebe. I noticed with delight how kooky Eloise McGregor, wearing an off-the-shoulder knitted blue mini-dress with red and black striped tights and biker boots, got into an animated discussion with soft-spoken Jacob Farleigh, a self-confessed misfit who played the trumpet when he wasn’t driving the number 23 bus. And there was geeky Graham Cartwright, who was terribly clever with numbers but rather inept when it came to social skills, managing to keep a conversation flowing with Leah Adebole, who had such low self-esteem that she could barely lift her eyes to meet another person’s gaze.
Then something interesting happened. A little Christmas miracle. In walked Matthew Baines – shy, lovely Matthew, who was the sweetest man you could wish to meet, but who was always getting trampled over by insensitive dates – and he stopped dead when he saw Jess across the room. I watched him curiously. Did he know her? A light had flared in his eyes – a look of joy was shining from his face. And then he was striding over – cautious Matthew actually striding! – to where she was sitting, patiently painting Annalisa Binari’s fingernails crimson.
I tried not to stare as I waited for Jess to notice him. And then, when she looked up and saw him hovering in front of her, a huge smile broke on her face. A proper smile – eyes sparkling, dimples flashing in her cheeks. Seconds later, they were talking to each other still with those surprised, happy smiles, as if they were old friends.
Now that’s interesting, I thought to myself. Very interesting …
Chapter Nineteen
A Taste of Honey
Jess
‘I’ve got a favour to ask you, Jess,’ Lauren said the next Monday evening. It had been the last FatBusters session before Christmas, and she, Maddie and I were in the Feathers as usual. Maddie was rather quiet, I noticed; almost secretive, in fact, as if there was something she wasn’t telling us, but she kept saying she was fine, just tired.
‘What is it?’ I said, turning to Lauren.
‘I’m a bit stuck,’ she confessed, spreading her hands wide. ‘I’ve set a client up for a lunch date tomorrow, and the girl he’s meant to be meeting has pulled out. I’ve gone through my client list, and the only people who are suitable are saying it’s too short notice. I’d cancel the date, but unfortunately I can’t get hold of the guy in question, and I really don’t want him sitting on his tod there tomorrow. It would knock his confidence even more.’
‘Ri-i-ight,’ I said suspiciously, not sure where this was heading.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘if you’re free, I was wondering if you would mind going along to meet him for lunch? Just to keep him company – nothing else,’ she added quickly as I opened my mouth to protest. ‘He’s really nice, I promise. Quite shy, not a creep at all, just a sweet professional bloke who’s not had much luck with the ladies in the past.’
I felt confused. She knew very well I was engaged to Charlie. ‘But … Well, I’ve already got a—’ I began.
She cut me off before I could finish. ‘Oh, don’t worry, I know you’ve already got a bloke, it’s not like that,’ she put in quickly. ‘It’s more that you’re so good at talking to people, Jess, and I think he could really do with some dating practice. No funny business. And it’s only lunch in a nice restaurant. It’s not like I’m asking you to go to a sleazy club or anything.’
I frowned. It was all very well her telling me ‘no funny business’, but the whole thing sounded decidedly odd to me. ‘Um …’ I said, stalling for time.
‘He’s booked a table at San Carlo …’ Lauren wheedled.
‘Oh yum,’ Maddie put in. ‘He’s got good taste, at least. You might as well go, Jess – you’ll get a lovely lunch out of it. The salmon ravioli is sensational there, believe me.’
I was wavering. I really did love Italian food, and San Carlo was meant to be the best place to get it.
‘Go on, please,’ Lauren said. ‘Say you’ll do it. For me? And for my poor, shy client? And because you’re the kindest, nicest friend, and …’
I laughed, unable to bear the pleading in her eyes for another second. I’d never been any good at saying no. Besides, she’d done plenty of favours for me by now – I did owe her.
‘Oh, all right,’ I said. ‘If I must. But … What if I don’t like him?’
‘You will,’ she promised. ‘Trust me, he’s a sweetheart. It’s just one lunch, Jess. No strings. And he’s a businessman, remember, so you can always look at it as a fact-finding mission – you know, getting a few tips, some free financial advice …’
‘All right, all right, I’ve said yes, haven’t I?’ I reminded her. ‘I’ll have to rearrange one of my bookings, but it’s only my friend Gemma, so she’ll be cool with that …’ I bit my lip, suddenly nervous at the thought of Charlie finding out. There was no way I could tell him I was having lunch with another bloke. He’d go absolutely mental. I shuddered just thinking about it.
‘Come on, don’t look like that,’ Lauren said bracingly, seeing the change in my expression. ‘Broad daylight, nothing sinister, just a chat and some nice food for an hour or so. You never know,’ she added with a wink, ‘you might even enjoy yourself.’
It hadn’t seemed such a massive ask the night before – it was only lunch, I’d convinced myself, and a favour for a good mate – but the next morning I woke up with jitters, not sure I could go through with this stupid pretend date after all.
‘What’s up with you?’ Charlie asked as I spilled milk all over the kitchen worktop.
‘Nothing,’ I lied, deliberately turning my face away so he wouldn’t see the guilt in my eyes. I passed him his coffee. ‘Just … got a busy morning. Lots of clients.’
‘Hmmm,’ he grunted, munching into a piece of toast. ‘Not seen any other jobs yet, then?’
‘No,’ I replied, sprinkling half a spoonful of sugar onto my cornflakes. (I had cut down from three spoonfuls but couldn’t quite give up the last bit.) ‘But I’m doing all right on my own, Charlie, aren’t I? I don’t know if I’ll need to go back to a job now, business is so good.’
‘Hmmm,’ he said again. He sounded begrudging. ‘You can’t count on it, though. Especially in a recession. People might have booked you in the past because they felt sorry for you, but they’re not going to keep forking out on beauty treatments for ever, you know. And come January, when everyone’s skint, what then? Nobody’s going to be splashing the cash on face creams and what-have-you when there are bills to be paid.’ He shrugged, his message clear: You’ll be down the dumper, love.
I tried not to feel too disheartened by his words. Because so far, much to my surprise, business had been better than I ever could have imagined. And yes, friends and former clients had rallied round and booked me in for treatments, but the fact that I was taking repeat bookings surely meant they weren’t all just treating me as a charity case? Bookings were coming in now from complete strangers who’d had me recommended to them by other clients. Word of mouth was proving to be a brilliant thing. In fact, I was seriously thinking about getting myself proper business premises in the new year. It was all very well being a mobile beauty therapist and going to people’s houses, but that wasn’t always convenient for clients who wanted to get a treatment in their lunch-hour, say, especially if it was the sort of treatment they needed to undress for.
I ate my breakfast in silence, doubts trickling in after Charlie’s doom-mongering. Maybe he was right. Maybe the bookings would tail off in the new year when everyone was paying off their Christmas credit-card splurges
and the party season was over for another eleven months. Maybe I was being too ambitious with my plans for my own work space …
I sighed, wishing that, just for once, Charlie could say something positive or encouraging. That he could be upbeat for a change, or dish out some praise, say well done for getting so far. Instead, Maddie and Lauren had become my cheering-on squad lately, supporting me and holding my hand through the whole business set-up. Shelley and the girls had been fab too, spreading the word and getting me loads of clients, telling me how proud they were of me for going it alone.
It was a shame Charlie didn’t feel able to do the same. He seemed more bothered about what I was going to cook him for tea every day and whether he’d be able to get his leg over that night. That wasn’t right, was it?
I got to my feet, feeling disloyal. I loved Charlie, of course I did, but … But …
I deliberately pushed the ‘but’ away as I zipped up my boots and put on my coat. I didn’t want to think bad things about Charlie.
‘See you later,’ I called as I opened the front door. ‘Have a good day.’
He barely looked up and I felt a sadness welling deep inside me. It was a few days before Christmas and we would have been married now if we’d stuck to our wedding date, I thought, leaving the house and walking towards the bus stop. We’d be man and wife, on our honeymoon. Would it have changed things? I wondered. Would he treat me differently if we got married?
I blinked. When not if we got married, I corrected myself.
Or had I actually been right the first time?
The truth was, I was finding it harder and harder to imagine our wedding day now. The thought of us standing there in front of our families and friends, exchanging rings, looking lovingly into one another’s eyes … I just couldn’t picture it any more. We hadn’t talked about getting married for weeks. I’d felt too sad to look at the wedding brochures or bring up the subject since he’d postponed it again, and over that time, during that silence, something had changed inside me. It was as if my soft centre was hardening, as if I was withdrawing from him, putting up barriers in my mind. Whenever Charlie clambered on top of me demanding sex at night, I always let him, but I lay there blanking him out, imagining I was somewhere else instead of trying to please him or – God forbid – enjoy myself. I’d just lie still and switch off from him, let him get on with it, however rough he was, however hard he ground into me, knowing that it would be over soon and I could go to sleep. That wasn’t right, either, was it? Where was the romance in that?
I was starting to have doubts. Scary doubts. Doubts I didn’t want to examine too closely for fear I’d have to do something in response to them.
I sighed again as it started drizzling, a freezing-cold, saturating wetness, and pulled my coat tighter around me. I’d been dead proud of Lauren for turning down sleazy Joe the other night – and dead impressed too. Even though she was living on her own, that was still better than putting up with a bloke’s arrogance and rudeness, in her eyes. No thanks, she’d said. You’re not good enough for me, actually.
I didn’t think I could ever have the strength to make a stand like that, to tell someone I didn’t think they were good enough for me. Deep down I wasn’t sure that I was good enough myself.
I rounded the corner, saw the bus waiting and had to make a run for it. Then I switched my worries off and deliberately thought about other stuff all morning.
One o’clock this stupid date was, and I’d been nervous about it all day, not able to concentrate properly through my treatments. By the time I was on my way to the restaurant, I was such a bag of nerves I wasn’t sure I’d be able to eat, let alone get through a whole lunchtime talking to this poor shy client of Lauren’s. Why did I agree to this again? I asked myself, trying to summon up some energy and enthusiasm as I dragged myself through a heavy downpour to Temple Street. It was a relief to get into the restaurant and out of the rain, at least. And oh, it smelled wonderful in there – of garlic and tomatoes and herbs. Mmmmmm …
I licked my lips, suddenly feeling ravenous, and hoped there would be something on the menu that wasn’t too outrageously calorific. Tomato sauces rather than cream ones, Alison intoned inside my head. Salad, not garlic bread – but watch out for the dressings! It would be really annoying to wreck my diet for this date when I didn’t even want to be there in the first place.
‘Hi, I’m meeting a Mr Baines at one o’clock,’ I told the waitress at the door. ‘But …’ I lowered my voice, feeling embarrassed. ‘But I don’t actually know what he looks like. It’s … um … a business meeting.’
The fib slipped out of me before I could think straight – I didn’t want her to think I was on a blind date. Unfortunately I looked more like a drowned rat than a businesswoman, but if she didn’t believe me, she was too polite to show it.
‘Mr Baines is already here, I think,’ she said, running a finger down the list of bookings. ‘Ah yes. He’s on table eight. Let me take your coat, and I’ll show you through.’
She led me into the restaurant and I blinked in surprise. Because there, sitting in the corner, smiling up at me as we approached, was Matt. My ex-client Matt, who, coincidentally, I’d seen the other night at Lauren’s.
Then it dawned on me. Oh my goodness. He was the poor, shy client?
I sat down opposite him, unable to speak.
‘Hello,’ he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. ‘I hope you don’t mind having lunch with me. Lauren suggested it, and she’s a very hard woman to argue with.’
‘Lauren suggested it?’ I echoed, confused. ‘But I thought … I thought you were meant to be meeting somebody else for a date, and …’ My voice trailed away to nothing. It was a set-up, I realized. My heart started thumping. ‘Matt – what’s going on? Is this some kind of a joke?’
‘No!’ He looked horrified at the question, and then the words spilled out of him in a tangled confession. ‘Jess – I’ve always really liked you. Not just because of your fantastic back rubs at the spa, but because you’re such a lovely person. You’re kind and funny and friendly, and …’ He looked awkward and spun a gold ring round one of his fingers before finishing the sentence in a low voice. ‘And you’re beautiful, too.’
I stared at him, speechless with shock. ‘But …’ I started.
‘I was really gutted when I found out you’d left the spa,’ he went on. ‘Really disappointed. The woman I spoke to wouldn’t tell me where you’d gone, and I could have kicked myself that … that I’d never had the guts to ask you out for a drink.’
‘Listen, Matt—’ I tried again, but there was no stopping him.
‘And then, when I saw you again at the Love Hearts do last week, I couldn’t believe my luck,’ he said, smiling. ‘I realized just how much I’d missed you. Missed our chats, missed having you in my life. I know it sounds daft. I know this is probably freaking you out, but it’s true, Jess. And …’ He dipped his head as if embarrassed. ‘And maybe I had one glass of wine too many, but later that night, when I was talking to Lauren, she was asking how we knew each other, and I confessed that … that I’ve always been in love with you. Sorry,’ he said with a little cough. ‘But I just had to say that.’
My face flamed at this unexpected speech. My heart was galloping now, so fast I could barely think. Because, if I was honest with myself, if I was truly, truly swear-on-the-holy-Bible honest, I’d always had a soft spot for him, too. I was always pleased to see his name booked in, looked forward to chatting with him about this and that. But all this talk of love …
‘Matt, I’m engaged,’ I said bluntly, showing him the ring on my finger. ‘I … I’m already with someone.’
His eyes were steady on mine. Such lovely kind eyes. Grey with tiny streaks of blue. ‘I know,’ he said gently. ‘But Lauren thought …’ He stopped.
I leaned forward, feeling uneasy. ‘What did Lauren think?’ I asked, unsure that I really wanted to know the answer.
‘Lauren thought that maybe …’ He
hesitated. ‘Look, shall we get a glass of wine? Or water? You’ve not even looked at the menu yet.’
It was my turn to hesitate then. Part of me felt obliged to stand up and walk out, proclaiming my loyalty to Charlie. Sorry – already taken. Going to get married next year, you know. Faithful and loyal wife-to-be right here. Mustn’t start getting into this sort of conversation with another man!
But I stalled. The problem was, I didn’t feel quite so loyal to Charlie these days.
‘Sorry,’ he said again, before I could think of the right words. ‘Me and my big gob, eh, what am I like? I’ve made a complete arse of myself now. Sorry, Jess. I didn’t mean to embarrass you or make you feel uncomfortable. Can we just have lunch together? I promise I’ll stop declaring my love to you. In fact, let’s just pretend that this never happened, can we? For the sake of my dignity?’
‘Matt …’ I began, but I was still finding it hard to know what to say. My brain was in turmoil, thoughts whirling, a shivery feeling prickling my skin. ‘I am with someone else,’ I said slowly, trying to make sense of my conflicting emotions. ‘But lately I’ve been having doubts about whether …’
I hung my head. I just couldn’t say it, I felt such a traitor to Charlie.
‘Doubts about whether …’ he prompted gently.
My face felt hot as I remembered all the times Charlie had made me cry, made me feel ugly and fat. All the times he’d forced himself into me, as if I was a piece of meat with no say in the matter. And something swelled inside me then, a feeling of rage – at myself for being so weak as to put up with such treatment, but also at Charlie, for dishing it out again and again and again.
I cleared my throat. ‘He isn’t very nice to me,’ I said, my voice shaking as I looked at the tablecloth. ‘And … and I’m wondering if maybe … I should leave him.’
