It was a pity Luca didn’t want to be in a relationship because she thought he would be better at it than he gave himself credit for. But he didn’t, so he would go back to his old ways, and she would go to London next weekend and sleep with Mark. There was nothing stopping her – certainly not Luca.
Chapter Twenty-seven
On Friday evening, Mark took Claire to the same village bistro they had gone to on her previous visit. The restaurant was buzzing, and her niggling doubts melted away as they chatted over the delicious food and wine. He was wearing a casual lightweight suit and a beautiful dove-grey shirt, and she was struck anew by how handsome he was. She found herself starting to wonder what he would look like naked, and felt a little shiver of excitement at the thought of finding out. The idea of sleeping with him didn’t faze her. She had no worries about disappointing him in bed, and she was suddenly overcome by a feeling of well-being, as if everything was as it should be. Luca was right. It would be just like riding a different bike.
‘When are you off to New York?’ Claire asked.
‘Next Friday. A friend’s getting married there so a few of us are going over and staying on for a few days after.’
‘That should be lovely.’
‘I wish you could come. I don’t suppose there’s any chance …?’ He looked at her hopefully. ‘I know it’s short notice.’
‘No,’ she said, with a wistful sigh. ‘I wish I could.’ She hadn’t had a proper holiday in ages, so she could probably have afforded it. But she couldn’t leave her mother just now. ‘I’d love to go to New York.’
‘You’ve never been?’
‘No.’
‘Oh, you have to go. Let’s go together! I mean not now, obviously, but we should plan it.’
‘That would be great.’ Claire felt excited already at the idea of going to New York with him, even if it was just a vague, far-off prospect.
‘We’re invited to a dinner party with some friends tomorrow night, if you’d like to go?’ he said.
‘That’d be lovely.’ She smiled across at him. ‘I’d really like to meet your friends.’ She was touched that Mark was so ready to make her part of his life.
‘Emma will be there, so there’ll be someone you already know.’
‘Oh.’ Emma was Mark’s colleague – Claire knew her on Twitter as @Locksie. ‘But she won’t know it’s me. I mean, you haven’t told her, have you?’
‘No! She won’t have a clue. But at least you’ll know who she is.’
‘It’ll be nice to meet her in real life, even if I can’t reveal my true identity.’ Claire laughed. ‘God, now I know how Superman and Spider-Man and that lot must feel.’
‘Does that make me Lois Lane?’
‘Or Mary Jane.’
Mark laughed. ‘I quite like the idea of having a superhero girlfriend. What would your power be?’
‘Hmm.’ Claire racked her brain, but the only superpowers she could think of that NiceGirl might have were bordering on obscene, and she didn’t want to go there. ‘Um … being super-nice?’ she said weakly.
‘I can vouch for that.’ Then he leaned forward and whispered, ‘But you’re going to have to do a better job of hiding it or everyone will discover your secret.’
Between the main course and dessert, Claire went outside to phone home. ‘I just want to check on my mother, make sure everything’s okay,’ she said to Mark.
Espie’s Friday-night card party was in full swing, and Claire could hear lots of chatter and laughter in the background when her mother picked up.
‘I’m fine,’ Espie assured her. ‘Nancy and Michael are just down the road, and Jim’s coming over for the day tomorrow. He’s going to stay the night.’
‘TMI, Mum.’ Claire laughed.
‘In the spare room,’ Espie said. ‘Even if the spirit was willing, I don’t think that lump of metal in my hip would be up to any high jinks at the moment. Getting my knickers on is enough of a challenge. I won’t be whipping them off in a hurry. Anyway, are you having a nice time?’
‘Yes, lovely.’ There was a burst of laughter in the background, and Claire felt a pang, almost wishing she was there. ‘Sounds like you’re having fun.’
‘We’re having a great night. Everyone else brought food, so I didn’t have to lift a finger. It’s a pity you’re not here. They all miss you – especially Luca.’
‘Luca’s there?’
‘Jim called in to him on his way over and asked if he wanted to come. That was nice of him, wasn’t it? Poor Luca, I think he’s pining for you.’
‘Don’t be daft, Mum.’ She didn’t want to disillusion her mother by telling her that Luca knew she was spending the weekend with another man and didn’t give a toss. Not only did he not care, he had personally coached her for the occasion. He had just stopped short of making her a packed lunch.
‘He actually won a couple of tricks tonight,’ her mother continued. ‘It’s a pity we didn’t up the stakes, because I think he could do with the money. Jim’s trying to teach him the spoons now – you should see him!’ She giggled. ‘He’s all fingers and thumbs.’
‘Well, tell everyone I said hi.’
‘I will. Do you want to talk to Luca?’
‘No. I’d better get back to Mark. Night, Mum.’
She felt unsettled as she walked back to her table. It was ridiculous! She was in a lovely restaurant with a really nice man who wanted to be with her, yet she felt almost resentful about being there with Mark instead of at home playing cards with her mother and her cronies – and Luca, who would ultimately only ever want to be friends. She didn’t like to think of him being there without her, jealous of the time other people got to spend with him. At the same time, a little part of her was glad to know that he was safely holed up at her house instead of out on the prowl, picking up girls.
‘Everything okay?’ Mark asked as she pulled out her chair.
‘Fine.’ She smiled at him as she sat down, determined to throw herself wholeheartedly into this – whatever ‘this’ turned out to be. At least it had potential.
They were quiet as they walked the short distance back to Mark’s flat in the balmy night air, but Claire’s mind was buzzing. She had to get over this pointless hankering for Luca. And she had a pretty good idea how to do it. Luca had warned her when they started not to confuse sex with romance, but she had been so inexperienced that it was probably inevitable she would develop feelings for him when they had been so intimate with each other. Once she started sleeping with Mark, she would transfer those feelings to him and everything else would fall into place. She’d forget all about this stupid fixation on Luca. Mark was everything she wanted. All she had to do was sleep with him, and she’d be fine. Maybe she’d abandon her five-date rule and just let it happen.
When they were back at the flat and Mark started kissing her, she didn’t hold back, happy to follow wherever this led. She wasn’t going to stick to rigid rules any longer. When his kisses became more urgent, she kissed him back just as feverishly and when his hand slid up to cup her breast, she didn’t push it away, but arched into it while her fingers raked through his hair. And yet, though she was making all the right moves, she felt detached somehow, like she was outside her body, watching, and this was all happening to someone else. She just couldn’t get into it.
Mark must have sensed that something was off because his hand stilled, his kisses slowed and then he was peeling away from her.
‘Sorry,’ he said, putting some distance between them. He looked flushed and contrite. ‘Am I moving too fast again?’
‘No. I just – I’m just tired.’ She stifled a yawn and realised she really was tired. That was probably all it was – her libido was at a low ebb because she was tired and a bit stressed.
They went to bed shortly after, Mark kissing her goodnight with a peck on the lips. But Claire found she couldn’t sleep, all the conflicting feelings of the evening crowding in on her and making it impossible to let go. What the hell was wrong with her?
She was with a lovely man who liked her, shared her interests and wanted to shag her – and if his kisses were anything to go by, it would have been brilliant. A man, moreover, who wanted a relationship, not just a string of meaningless shags. So what the fuck was she doing alone in bed, wishing she was … what? Back home, playing cards with Luca?
She sighed in frustration. With no prospect of sleep in sight, she took out her laptop and started writing a draft of a final blog post. She decided to write about Mark – almost as if by writing it, she could make it come true.
Weekends I’m In Love
Not just Fridays. But I’ve met someone, and he doesn’t live in the same city as me, or even the same country, so we’re doing the long-distance thing and mostly I just see him on weekends. It’s not very long-distance – we’re just a short flight away from each other – but it’s fun and exciting, and it’s given a whole new meaning to That Friday Feeling.
I like him an awful lot. And that’s all I’m going to say on the subject. Because this one’s different. So I’m closing the bedroom door, and I’m shutting down the blog. No more Ms NiceGirl. Because after all the men I’ve known – Mr Bossy, Mr Curious, Mr Strange, Mr Bump and Grind, Mr Ed (remember him?), Mr Handy – I’ve finally found the one I was looking for all along … Mr Right.
It needed work, but it was a nice idea, she thought, as she switched off the laptop and put it away. She liked to think of NiceGirl getting her happy-ever-after. And she’d get her own happy ending too. Tomorrow would be date number five. She would sleep with Mark and everything would be fine.
Chapter Twenty-eight
The following evening they took a taxi to Belsize Park, to the house of Mark’s friend Olivia. Claire took his hand in the back of the cab, sighing happily as his warm fingers curled around hers. It had been such a lovely day. She had worried there might be some awkwardness after the previous evening, but Mark was his usual friendly, relaxed self, and she felt perfectly at ease again.
It had been a beautiful summer’s day, the sun hot in a cloudless blue sky, a gentle breeze taking the edge off the temperature so that the heat wasn’t oppressive. They had had a blissfully lazy day in the garden, chatting, reading the papers and stroking Millie, punctuated by coffee and tea, cold white wine, croissants, salmon quiche and strawberries. Claire felt almost drowsy with pleasure, as pampered and contented as Millie.
‘So, this is our fifth date,’ she said, as they walked up the path to his friend’s house.
He stopped and turned to her. ‘Is it? I wasn’t sure – I mean I didn’t know if you counted this weekend as one or …’
‘It’s definitely our fifth date,’ she said. ‘And, by the way, I’m not seeing the Artist any more.’
‘You’re not?’
‘No. I broke it off with him before I came over here,’ she said, with a calm smile.
He smiled back, his eyes glittering with intent. Then he took her hand and continued walking.
A very pretty girl with long, shiny dark hair answered the door. ‘Mark!’ she squealed, pulling him into a hug.
‘Olivia, this is Claire,’ Mark said when he’d been released. ‘Claire, Olivia.’
‘Hi, Claire, it’s lovely to meet you,’ Olivia said, as they shook hands.
‘You too.’
‘Well, come in, come in.’ Olivia ushered them into the hallway. ‘Let me take your coats. Gosh, I love your dress.’
‘Thank you,’ Claire said, as she handed over her jacket.
‘We’re all in here.’ She led them into a small dining room, where people were already seated around a large table. Banks of candles on every surface gave the room and everyone in it a soft glow.
There was a chorus of ‘Mark!’ as they entered, and he waved at them all in greeting.
‘Everyone, this is Claire,’ Olivia said, ‘Mark’s friend.’
Claire nodded shyly as they all said hello.
‘Sit down, you two,’ Olivia said, waving them to a couple of chairs beside each other. ‘Claire, this is Diane, Patrick, Emma and Jamie.’
‘Emma works with me,’ Mark whispered to Claire, as she sat down beside Jamie. She wondered why he was whispering and he raised his eyebrows meaningfully – at which she realised this was @Locksie.
‘Oh!’ she breathed. She wouldn’t have known her from her Twitter avatar, but now that she knew it was her, she recognised the face. It felt strange not to be able to acknowledge that they knew each other – sort of.
‘Andy’s still to come,’ Olivia was saying, ‘but we’re getting sloshed while we’re waiting. Red or white?’
They both asked for red, and when she had filled their glasses, she sat down opposite Claire.
‘I haven’t seen Andy in ages,’ Mark said to Olivia.
‘None of us has,’ she said.
‘Is he bringing anyone?’
‘I’m not sure. He was a bit vague. He broke up with Sam a couple of months ago, and I don’t think he’s seeing anyone else.’
‘So, you’re from Dublin, Claire?’ Emma asked her.
‘Yes. I’m just over for the weekend.’
‘You’re staying with Mark?’ she asked, smiling knowingly at him.
‘Um … yes.’
‘Well, you’re a dark horse, Mark,’ Jamie said. ‘You never told us you were having an international fling. All those business trips are starting to make sense now.’
‘They were business trips,’ Mark said. ‘Claire and I have only just started seeing each other. And it’s not a fling, by the way.’
‘Ooh!’ Jamie and Patrick chorused childishly.
Claire suddenly felt self-conscious, as if she was on trial with his friends and they were all sizing her up. She got the feeling these people were very important to him, and she wanted them to like her.
‘Don’t mind them,’ Mark said to her. ‘They’re such children.’
‘Sorry,’ Emma said to Claire. ‘We’re being silly – too much wine and no food. Where’s bloody Andy?’ she shouted to the table at large.
Right on cue, the doorbell rang. ‘That’ll be him now,’ Olivia said, getting up and leaving the room.
‘Thank God for that,’ Patrick said. ‘At last we can eat.’
‘What are we having anyway?’ Diane asked. ‘Does anyone know?’
‘Knowing Olivia, it’ll probably be some vile invention of hers.’
They were all chatting and giggling about Olivia’s cooking when she came striding back into the room. Claire was surprised that she was rather stony-faced – and was she imagining it or had she glanced warily at Mark?
‘Andy’s here,’ she said tightly, ‘and he’s brought someone.’ She was followed into the room by a tall, dark-haired man and a ravishingly pretty girl with thick waves of strawberry blonde hair tumbling down her back.
Everyone fell silent, and all eyes flew to Mark.
‘Hi, you guys,’ the blonde said, smiling. Either she was oblivious to the atmosphere in the room or she was choosing to ignore it. Patrick and Diane were obviously stunned, Jamie looked cross, and Emma appeared downright hostile as they greeted her in turn. They all kept darting furtive glances at Mark, as if they were expecting him to explode.
‘Sophie.’ Mark finally nodded in acknowledgement.
‘And who’s this?’ Sophie asked, her eyes settling on Claire.
‘This is Claire,’ Mark introduced her. ‘Claire – Sophie and Andy.’
Sophie extended a heavily braceleted hand. ‘Nice to meet you, Claire.’ She smiled, blatantly sizing her up. Then her eyes slid questioningly to Mark. ‘Well, you haven’t wasted any time,’ she said, as she took the seat on Mark’s other side, her dazzling smile never slipping. ‘I go into rehab for five minutes and find I’ve been replaced.’
Her mischievous smile belied the bitterness of her words, but they hit Claire like a slap. She didn’t know where to look. Was this why everyone had been acting so shiftily when Sophie arrived? Because he’d cheated on Sophie while she was in rehab?
‘So, what’s for supper, Ol?’ Sophie interrupted, pouring herself a huge glass of wine. ‘I’m starving!’
‘Should you be doing that?’ Olivia asked, frowning, as Sophie raised the glass to her lips.
‘Oh, Christ, you’re right!’ Sophie stopped herself as she was about to take a sip. She lowered the glass. ‘God, I’m such a dunce! I’ll never graduate from rehab like this. Here, you have it,’ she said, sliding the glass across to Andy.
Olivia smiled reluctantly. ‘I’ll go and get the first course.’
‘What do you think it’s going to be?’ Sophie hissed, when Olivia was out of the room. ‘Not one of her “creations”, I hope.’
‘So how was rehab?’ Jamie asked cheerfully.
‘Boring! Though I did have a little fling with a crackhead from Scotland – that was fun.’
‘You’re not supposed to get off with people in rehab,’ Jamie said. ‘Isn’t that against the rules?’
Sophie shrugged. ‘You have to do something to pass the time. So, Claire, where are you from?’
‘Dublin.’
‘Ah, lovely! I was in Dublin once. At least I think it was Dublin,’ she frowned, ‘but I was off my head, so who knows? I had a pint of Guinness, though, so it probably was Dublin.’
‘You can get Guinness anywhere,’ Patrick pointed out.
‘True, but you wouldn’t get me drinking it. I must have been doing the tourist thing.’
‘Are you and Andy …’ Mark trailed off.
‘What? Banging each other?’ She glanced at Andy. ‘God, no! I love Andy to bits, but we don’t fancy each other at all, do we, babe?’ she said to Andy, who shook his head.
‘Nope, not a bit,’ he said.
Some Girls Do Page 33
