‘Let’s order our zabagliones quickly,’ she muttered. ‘Much as I love Lu and Shay, I really don’t want to share the rest of this evening with them.’
‘Neither do I. But then they probably don’t want to spend it with us either.’
Lu and Shay, looking very animated, rushed towards them.
‘Hi, Mum. Hello, Joel. What a coincidence,’ Lulu beamed. ‘Are you celebrating as well?’
Lu, Mitzi thought, looked as though she was lit up from inside. It was lovely to see her so happy. And looking very pretty despite the Patagonian refugee ensemble. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkled, and the damp fog had teased all the braids into little higgledy-piggledy corkscrews.
‘Not celebrating as such, no,’ Joel said, having given the ice cream order to their waiter. ‘More experimenting. Or at least, Mitzi was. I’m just an interested observer.’
Shay laughed. ‘Seems to be the male role when you’re involved with the Blessings women, doesn’t it? Like being caught up in some sort of surreal whirlwind.’
Over the zabagliones and in spite of the waiter’s attempts to show Lulu and Shay to their table, Lu told them about being sort of engaged, becoming an RSPCA inspector, and about Pip, Squeak and Wilfred, while Mitzi recounted the story of the Mistletoe Kisses.
There was much jollity and laughter and hugging and congratulations all round.
‘But if you don’t mind,’ Shay said when things had quietened down a bit, ‘we’d really like to celebrate by ourselves this evening. We won’t be making the engagement official until we can afford to do something about it, and we certainly don’t want to steal Doll and Brett’s thunder. So, as we’ve got loads to talk about, I hope you won’t be offended if we don’t share your table?’
‘Not at all!’
‘No, of course. We completely understand.’
‘Ah, how sweet,’ Mitzi said mistily, as Lu and Shay, totally engrossed in each other, were shown to their table in a silvery sparkling alcove. ‘I couldn’t be more pleased. She really deserves some happiness and he’s a fantastic man. He’ll be so good for her.’
‘He’s a lucky bloke, too. Lu’s gorgeous, despite the dippiness, with a huge heart. They’ll be great together.’ Joel licked both sides of his spoon. ‘So? Both your daughters happily settled before the end of the year, your witchy powers more than adequately endorsed, your Baby Boomers all occupied, Tarnia Snepps almost a bosom buddy … what’s next on the Mitzi Blessing agenda?’
His eyes were dark across the table. The myriad lights twinkled on the diamond ear-stud.
Mitzi dragged her gaze from his and looked across Lorenzo’s again to where Lu and Shay were alternately toasting each other in Asti and kissing. The atmosphere was sultry, the darkness illuminated only by the silver sparkles and the flames of a hundred candles, scented with herbs and red wine, highly charged with lust.
She scooped up the last of her ice cream and finished her solitary glass of Chianti. ‘Shall we go home?’
Chapter Twenty-two
First into work as usual, Doll switched on the waiting-room lights and scooped up the post from the mat. The previous day’s fog had melted away, leaving Hazy Hassocks draped in a grey icy dampness. She loved it. It meant the hot flushes were far more bearable.
She left the post on Viv’s desk, checked the answer-phone for urgent overnight molar-agony messages – there weren’t any – and headed for the usual morning ritual of cloakroom to tidy her hair, kitchen to prepare coffee for everyone, and then into the surgery to set it up ready for the first appointment.
She turned on the surgery lights and screamed.
There was a body in the chair.
‘Jesus Christ!’ Joel sat upright, cracking his skull on the overhead drill gantry. ‘Shit!’
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ Doll gawped at him. Her heart was still beating a tattoo and an imminent hot flush had been instantly quelled by a wave of icy terror. ‘You scared me to death! You look awful. Have you been there all night?’
‘Yeah.’ Squinting in the harsh fluorescent strip lights, Joel eased his feet to the floor and groaned. ‘Don’t ask.’
‘Get real. Of course I’m going to ask. I thought you and Mum were going out last night?’
‘We were. We did,’ Joel winced as he ran his fingers through the spikes of his cropped hair. ‘We went to Lorenzo’s. We had some great food and a great time and I had more than my fair share of Chianti – and please, please can I have some anti-inflammatories and a bucket of coffee?’
‘Go and use the cloakroom first,’ Doll advised. ‘Stick your head in a basin of cold water. You look truly dreadful. Then I’ll make you some nice strong coffee and sort out the pain relief and you can tell me all about it. We’ve got ages before anyone else comes in. And it’s only Mrs Dobbs and her Duane for matching root canals first. They won’t mind waiting.’
‘I’m not telling you anything.’
‘Oh-yes-you-are.’
Half an hour later, after Joel had regaled her with his version of the whole sorry story, Doll was more confused than ever. True, he had a killer hangover and so might have muddled the facts, but even so.
She’d have to go and see her mother. Mitzi must have had her reasons for behaving the way she had. But what on earth had gone wrong? They were so right for one another. Absolutely perfect. This was just awful.
Joel’s account of the evening’s events simply didn’t make sense. Leaving out the débâcle of the ending of the relationship with Mitzi, where on earth had Shay and Lulu being engaged come into it last night? And Lulu actually getting a job – no, a career – and adopting three puppies? And as for the bit about a table load of all-bloke bank managers kissing and groping – well, it was all plainly ridiculous. ‘I think you’re still roaring drunk,’ Doll said. ‘And everything you’ve just told me is an alcohol-induced nightmare. It’ll all become clear later, I’m sure.’
‘It’s crystal clear to me now,’ Joel muttered, downing his third mug of black coffee and doing his tunic top up wrong. ‘Crystal. Christ – how long does it take for this pain relief to kick in?’
‘Twenty minutes. Shall I usher Mrs Dobbs in now? We really ought to get her local going. Are you up to it?’
Joel nodded and flinched again.
‘Best not let Mrs D or her Duane see your hands shaking when you’re armed with the syringe,’ Doll advised. ‘And you’ve got your mask on upside down. Look, I’ll go to Mum’s at lunchtime on the pretext of talking about wedding stuff. I’ll try really hard to be discreet and find out why she did what she did. Are you sure you didn’t—’
‘I didn’t do anything,’ Joel said sharply. ‘And please don’t cross-question your mother. She made her feelings absolutely clear last night. To quote the celeb pages, your mother and I are no longer an item. Right – wheel in Mrs Dobbs. No, Doll, I mean it. It’s over. Not that it ever really got started. Just as well, really. Go on then – let’s get to work.’
‘You’ve got to be mad!’ Doll sighed in exasperation across Mitzi’s cluttered kitchen table. ‘He’s gorgeous! He’s mad about you! You’re mad about him!’
‘Stop right there. Far too many mads. I don’t know what he’s told you, but we’re not children. We don’t need intervention from our best friend in the playground. Look, love, I made a mistake. It just wasn’t meant to be.’
‘Cobblers!’ Doll snorted through her cup-a-soup, making little orange wavelets lap the sides of the Winnie the Pooh mug. ‘Of course it was meant to be. He’s hungover, miserable and as angry as a wet hen, and look at the state of you! When have you ever, apart from being ill, still been in your dressing gown at lunchtime?’
Mitzi sighed. She hadn’t slept. And not sleeping at fifty-five really took its toll the next morning. It wasn’t like being a teenager where the skin just snapped back into place after a sleepless night. And her head ached and her eyes were gritty and she felt grubby and achy. The sadness was a hard, immovable lump under her ribs. She felt tru
ly awful and knew she looked it, not to mention puffy and grey and jowly.
‘I’m not going into details,’ she said firmly. ‘It’s none of your business.’
‘Yes it is,’ Doll gurgled through the remains of the soup. ‘You’re my mum and he’s my employer and my friend. And I like – no, I love you both. Love, mother! Love. Don’t you remember the L word?’
Mitzi laughed bitterly. ‘Only too well. Which is the problem.’
‘Oh, please! Listen to yourself! You’re not going to tell me that because Dad dumped you for Jennifer the Harpy a whole decade ago you’ll never fall in love again? That he was your one and only?’
Mitzi shook her head. She couldn’t tell Doll what had happened the night before. Couldn’t. ‘Let’s just leave it. Your wedding is only a couple of weeks away, Lu’s just got unofficially engaged – surely that’s enough romance for any family to be going on with?’
‘No, it bloody isn’t. You’ve lived your life through us for years. You’ve been ace. You’ve been the best mother in the whole world. Me and Lulu are grown up and sorted. Now it’s your turn to have some fun. Some happiness. Some love.’
‘I’ve got loads of love. I’ve got—’
‘Don’t you dare do that “friends and family and Richard and Judy” routine! Don’t you dare! You know exactly what I mean.’
Mitzi sighed. She knew. ‘Don’t get so agitated, love. I had my reasons. Good reasons. And now we should be talking about the last few things for the wedding …’
‘Sod the wedding!’
Mitzi smiled ruefully. ‘You really should calm down. Your blood pressure will go through the roof.’
‘My blood pressure is fine. I’m fine. The baby’s fine. Brett’s fine. The wedding is planned down to the last infinite detail. We don’t need to discuss the wedding any more. We need to discuss why you and Joel are no longer together.’
‘No we don’t. And we won’t.’
‘Damn me, you’re never usually this adamant,’ Doll sighed, depositing her mug in the dishwasher and gathering her bag and coat together. ‘I blame the Baby Boomers Liberation Movement. And you’re really not going to tell me what went wrong last night, are you?’
‘No. And don’t try and worm it out of Lu, either. She knows nothing about it.’
‘Par for the course. Miss Self-Obsessed is hardly likely to notice, is she? Now if you and Joel had four legs and a pair of waggy tails …’
Mitzi laughed. It sounded raw and scratchy. ‘Please just let it go, Doll, love. I know it’ll be awkward for you working with Joel, but for both our sakes, please don’t subject him to the third degree.’
‘Can’t promise anything,’ Doll said loftily. ‘I’ll just have to see what happens.’
Watching Doll sail down the dripping path and into her car, Mitzi sighed. She really wanted to go to bed, to retire to the bejewelled apricot opulence of her room, pull the duvet over her head, sleep for a week and wake up to forget that the embarrassment of last night had ever happened.
But she couldn’t.
They’d driven home from Lorenzo’s, slowly because of the fog, laughing and talking, with Jimi Hendrix at his most sultry in the background. The evening had been simply wonderful. Perfect. The tingle was still very much there. Just looking at Joel in the cosy cocoon of the car’s dark interior had made Mitzi’s stomach turn liquid with lust.
This happy state had lasted until well after they’d got into the house and lit lamps and poured wine and fed Richard and Judy. Joel had much admired the living room’s Christmas decorations – all old family favourites brought out year after year and awash with memories, none of this trendy colour-co-ordinated designer stuff – and flicked through her CD collection and put a Stones compilation on.
They’d curled on the rug by the fire to the strains of ‘Paint It Black’. They’d talked some more, and laughed a lot, and sort of snuggled together naturally in the firelight. He’d kissed her.
Mitzi blinked quickly, remembering.
It had been total bliss. She’d taken his face between her hands and simply soaked up his beauty. She’d never felt like this about anyone, ever. Not even Lance. The kissing had moved on to being interspersed with touching and stroking and whispering endearments.
Mitzi sighed, thinking how perfect it had been.
At last they were going to spend the night together. They’d make love. Joel would be there beside her while she slept and when she woke. The apricot and golden bedroom would no longer be her solitary sanctuary.
But the bedroom could wait. Right now they had the rug and the fire glow and one another.
There had been just one tiny, tiny niggle at the back of her brain: Lu and Shay. They probably wouldn’t be home for hours, but even so there seemed something slightly distasteful about going to bed with Joel for the first time, with her daughter and boyfriend in the next room. It would be almost like an orgy. It would ruin the romantic idyll she’d imagined, worrying about being overheard, keeping doors closed. The relaxed spontaneity would be gone.
Joel had kissed her bare shoulder. ‘You’re beautiful. You’re an amazing woman. I’ve never met anyone like you. You know how much I want you, don’t you?’
Mitzi had nodded. She couldn’t speak. It hadn’t mattered. Nothing mattered then. Not the age difference or her wrinkles or her years and years of celibacy and being out of practice. Not even Lu and Shay. Not really.
Mick and the boys, with perfect timing, chose that moment to burst into ‘Let’s Spend the Night Together’. She and Joel had exchanged glances and laughed.
He’d kissed her again, then pulled himself into a sitting position and reached for his wine glass. ‘Here’s to you. To us. You’re wonderful.’
She’d chinked her glass against his and giggled. ‘So are you.’
And he was, of course. Gorgeous, funny, kind, generous. He was a man in a million as all the best magazines said.
Then things had moved on quite quickly and in the middle of all the emotional turmoil and the heady rush of lust, Mitzi had known this wasn’t how she wanted it to be. She didn’t want the rug and the fire glow, nor did she want the chance of being interrupted by Lulu and Shay. She didn’t want to share this moment with anyone else.
However foolish, she’d always imagined, if it ever happened, sleeping with Joel in some nostalgic born-again-virgin sort of way. She’d wanted to go back in time, to when sleeping with someone you weren’t married to wasn’t accepted as the norm, when affairs were daring and exciting, when sex with a clandestine lover wasn’t discussed as easily and publicly as new hairstyles and fashionable shoes.
She’d wanted the intimacy to be their secret; to be thrilling and audacious and memorable. She’d wanted to recreate that years-ago frisson of wickedness there had been about doing something so romantically reckless.
Of course there were advantages to the current openness, to the sweeping away of taboos, but even so, there had been so much magic in the sheer delicious sinfulness of it all.
She’d wanted to be seduced by Joel in her apricot bedroom and live the erotic and evocative words of Kiki Dee’s ‘Amoureuse’ – like the first time. The first time with this very special man.
He’d sensed her change of mood.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing … It’s just … no, nothing. Really …’
Joel had kissed her gently. ‘I do love you, Mitzi. I hadn’t planned to. Hadn’t expected to. That’s what makes it so wonderful. I never thought I’d feel like this.’
Neither had she. And that was the second problem. She loved him. She didn’t just want it to be tonight. She loved him and wanted it to be for ever. She didn’t want a fleeting fling with Joel. She knew she couldn’t sleep with him, give all of herself to him, only for him to leave her.
Losing Lance had broken her heart. Losing Joel would destroy her life.
She’d wriggled away from him. ‘I’m not sure this is such a good idea …’
As soon as the
sentence was uttered she’d known the words were all wrong. If she’d thrown a bucket of water over him she couldn’t have killed the mood better.
He’d stared at her, hurt in his eyes. ‘What? I mean … I’m sorry … I thought you wanted to … wanted me … Christ
‘I did. I do …’ Mitzi had mumbled. ‘It’s just – well, not like this
‘I hadn’t imagined we’d be spending the night on the floor either. Although I guess that’s not what you mean is it?’
Mitzi had watched miserably as he’d reached angrily for his shirt.
‘Not really. Look, Joel—’
‘No,’ his voice had been cold. ‘You don’t need to spell it out. I’m sorry. I’d thought you felt like I did. There’s no way I want to force myself on you.’
‘You’re not. Of course you’re not. Oh, God. Let me explain. Or at least try …’ She’d pulled on her purple top. The buttons caught on her hair and the tears, so far held in check, spilled down her cheeks. ‘Please, Joel …’
‘Don’t cry.’ He’d scrambled to his feet and pushed his feet into his shoes. ‘Please don’t cry. We’ve had a great time – made each other happy. It would be crap to have it end in tears. I’m sorry if I got the wrong message. Gave out the wrong signals.’
‘You didn’t. It’s me. I’ve ruined it. Please let me tell you—’
He’d grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair, making the Christmas tree rock violently and sending a cascade of pine needles swooshing to the floor.
‘Don’t go. You can’t go. You know – the drinking and driving and—’
‘I’ll be fine.’ His eyes had been as brilliantly cold as the diamond ear-stud. ‘At least we know where we stand now. I’m glad I didn’t make even more of a fool of myself. No, I’ll find my own way out.’
And Mitzi had watched him go, the sadness tightening in her throat, the loneliness engulfing her long before he’d slammed the front door.
Now, more than twelve hours later she felt exactly the same.
It had been all her fault. She was so out of practice with love game rules. Why, oh why couldn’t she have been honest and just told him what she wanted? What she’d dreamed of? He wouldn’t have laughed at her. Joel wasn’t unkind. He would have understood, maybe even shared her romantic dreams, or at least pretended to. But not now. Now it was far, far too late. Because of her stupid dreams and ridiculous inexperience she’d done that unforgivable thing in a man’s eyes – changed her mind at the height of passion. She’d hurt and insulted him. There would be no second chances.
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