Don't Want To Miss A Thing

by Mansell, Jill

  ‘Better and better. You’re a sight for sore eyes, aren’t you?’ Handing the gates to Dex, the woman reached for Henry’s hand and shook it, hanging on for a good few seconds after the shake was over. ‘I’m Lois. How very lovely to meet you. I hope we’ll see you in the Swan this evening.’

  ‘Lois runs the pub,’ Dex explained. He added, ‘And I don’t know if you’d noticed, but she’s not shy.’

  Henry, who was shy, managed to claim his hand back at last. To cover his confusion he pointed to the gates and said, ‘What are they?’

  ‘We’re building a cage.’ Lois regarded him for a second, then broke into a red-lipsticked grin. ‘It’s my daughter’s old playpen. Dexter was going to tether Delphi to a stake in the garden, like Young Bert. I said I’d dig it out so he could pop her in this instead.’

  The next thing Henry knew, he was out in the café garden with Lois, slotting together the sides of the pen and tightening the screws she’d rather disconcertingly put for safekeeping inside her mauve satin bra. He found himself on the receiving end of a barrage of personal questions: Was he married? Any kids? Did he want any? What, soon? Did he ever think of leaving London? And what did he do to keep himself in shape?

  Dex, coming outside and watching from a distance, said, ‘You’re scaring him, Lois.’

  ‘No I’m not. Am I?’ She patted Henry’s arm and gave it a little squeeze. ‘Don’t be scared, I’m just interested. I like to know things about people. If you don’t ask, how else are you going to find out? And let’s face it, we don’t get many like you around here.’

  ‘You mean the colour of my skin?’

  ‘Ha, I meant the fact that you’re so handsome. Your eyes,’ said Lois. ‘That voice. Those muscles. The whole damn package.’

  Now what was he supposed to say? Oh God, and had she deliberately unbuttoned her dress so more of her cleavage was on show?

  ‘Hang on,’ Dexter protested. ‘Are you saying he’s better looking than me?’

  ‘Now, now, you’re both perfect specimens. But this one has the shoulders, the build, like a big burly rugby player.’ Henry flinched as Lois gave his shirt-clad arm an appreciative rub. ‘He’s definitely more my type.’

  Back at the pub, between serving customers, Lois inwardly cringed at the show she’d put on earlier for Dexter’s friend. Honestly, what was she like? Sometimes she despaired of herself. Other people got plastered and ended up being embarrassing, but she somehow managed to do it when she was sober. It just seemed to happen, as if she were mentally programmed to play the part of the bawdy Carry On barmaid, over the top in every way, jaunty, cheeky and flirtatious. She could feel herself doing and saying things that really shouldn’t be said but it was almost impossible to stop. Even when – like this afternoon – it was perfectly obvious that the poor man, Henry, would far rather be left alone.

  She didn’t even know why she did these things; it was like some kind of compulsion to prove to the world that nothing scared her. It was a front, a barrier she put up against all men to show that she was more than a match for any of them.

  And sometimes, Lois thought ruefully, it worked just a little too well. When it came to men like Henry, without meaning to but unable to help herself, she succeeded in terrifying the life out of them.

  Hairy Dave from the garage approached the bar. ‘Same again, two large ones.’ As always, he leered at her chest and added with a chuckle, ‘Any time you like, love. You know that, don’t you?’

  Ergh, in his dreams. But he single-handedly drank enough to practically keep the pub in profit, so Lois rolled her eyes and said good-naturedly, ‘Yes, Dave, I do. Dream on.’

  Because wasn’t she as bad as him, in her own way?

  Chapter 28

  The soles of Molly’s feet were on fire. Sightseeing was hard work and they’d done more than their fair share today. Buckingham Palace, the London Eye, the Houses of Parliament, Knightsbridge, the Serpentine . . . so many places Frankie had never seen in real life were being ticked off the list. Together they’d navigated the Tube, greeting and smiling at their fellow travellers and being summarily blanked in return. She’d warned Frankie from past experience that this would happen but Frankie had refused to believe her and done it anyway. So many thousands of people crammed together like sardines and still not speaking to each other, refusing even to acknowledge each other’s existence.

  But that had been during the day. It was night-time now and the unfriendliness of the city was no longer so apparent. As darkness had fallen and the lights had come on in the West End, London had begun to look magical, like something out of a film. The bridges strung across the Thames glittered like necklaces, illuminated tourist boats chugged through the water and the trees along the banks were lit up with white lights. It was a warm night and people thronged the pavements outside bars and cafés.

  Was this how it felt to live here, or did you stop noticing, after a while, the endless bustle, the busyness and anonymity of it all?

  Frankie, evidently thinking the same, said, ‘You could walk these streets for weeks and never bump into anyone you know.’

  Molly nodded in agreement and the next moment was knocked sideways by a man hurrying past with headphones in his ears. ‘But you can bump into lots of people you don’t.’

  Not everyone, though, was unfriendly.

  ‘Sorry, I can’t stop looking at you. You just have the most amazing eyes.’

  The trouble with being paid compliments like that was Molly never knew how you were supposed to react. They’d been in this club on Charlotte Street for a couple of hours now and Adam had been talking to her for the last forty minutes. Chatting her up, actually. Quite charmingly, too. He was easy to talk to, an advertising executive who lived in Notting Hill and owned a chocolate Labrador called Fredo.

  ‘He’s the love of my life, my best friend.’ His grey eyes creased at the corners as he talked fondly about Fredo. ‘Such a character. Do you like dogs?’

  ‘Oh yes.’ Molly nodded.

  ‘I knew you would.’ His smile broadened as he rested his hand on hers. ‘I could never be attracted to a girl who didn’t love dogs. Here, let me get you another drink . . .’

  ‘Let me just check my friend’s all right.’ Swivelling round, Molly searched the crowds and saw that Frankie was on the dance floor with the man she’d been talking to earlier. Frankie wasn’t out on the pull but she’d decided earlier to pretend to be. They were in London where no one knew them; for one night only she had the chance to be whoever she wanted, rather than poor old Frankie whose husband had been cheating on her for the last twenty years. When this one had asked her if she was divorced she’d simply said yes as if it had all happened years ago and couldn’t matter less. And now she was laughing and chatting as they danced together. She was learning how to be single again, practising the long-forgotten art of flirtation.

  Although to be honest the dancing could probably do with a bit of work.

  ‘Here you go.’ Adam pressed another drink into her hand and said, ‘Cheers.’

  ‘Cheers,’ said Molly.

  They clinked glasses and he smiled at her again. ‘You’re amazing. I’m so glad this happened tonight. Imagine if one of us had gone to a different bar.’

  ‘You don’t mean that.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s just another line.’

  ‘You think?’ The smile became a grin. ‘But am I saying it well?’

  ‘Saying it very well.’

  ‘Well, maybe that’s because it’s true.’

  ‘Smooth,’ said Molly. ‘Very smooth.’

  ‘I also like that perfume you’re wearing.’ Moving closer, Adam inhaled. ‘What is it?’

  They’d gone mad in Harrods’ perfume hall this afternoon, squirting themselves with dozens of different scents with names they’d never encountered before. It had been hard not to.

  Molly said, ‘It’s kind of a mish-mash,’ and he laughed again.

  ‘See, how many girls would say that? I like everything about yo
u. Come on, let’s have a dance.’

  The music had slowed down. Where was the harm? She let him draw her on to the dance floor and slide his arms round her waist. OK, this was promising. Adam was a good dancer, he had rhythm, he was fun and easy to talk to. The last thing she’d expected to happen tonight was encountering someone she might actually want to get involved with, but maybe the universe had other plans. Every couple had to meet each other for the first time somewhere. What if this was their first time? Imagine if they were to get married and have children and live happily together for decades to come and one day their granddaughter would sit on her knee and say, ‘Come on then, Granny, tell us how you and Grandpa got together, did you know straight away that he was the one for you?’ And Adam would laugh and say, ‘It was for me, but your gran played it very cool and pretended not to find me irresistible. We met in a club in North London and—’

  ‘Hey.’ Adam’s voice cut in, interrupting her fantasy. ‘What are you thinking?’

  As if she was going to tell him that.

  ‘I’m thinking how much my feet hurt.’

  ‘That’s so romantic.’

  ‘True though.’

  ‘And there’s me, marvelling that you have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.’

  Yeah, right. ‘Okaaaaaay.’

  ‘And a perfect nose.’

  ‘Ha.’ Molly shook her head. ‘Are these your best chat-up lines?’

  ‘As for your mouth,’ Adam murmured, ‘it’s just so . . . kissable.’

  ‘You don’t actually know that for a fact though.’ He was a smoothie, but a playful one. It was a bit of fun, nothing more. Entering into the spirit, Molly said, ‘It’s just a guess.’

  ‘But an educated one. I’m not just a pretty face, you know. I bet you’re a fantastic kisser.’

  ‘I’m not. I’m terrible, completely disastrous. Like a camel.’

  Adam laughed and stopped dancing for a moment. ‘I’ll bet cold hard cash that isn’t true.’

  ‘Ah, but what if it is?’ Molly resumed dancing, her arms around his waist.

  He said, ‘OK, this is killing me now. I have to know.’

  She pretended not to hear him.

  ‘If you’re playing a game with me,’ Adam breathed in her ear, ‘it’s working. I’m liking you more and more. My God, you’re dangerous.’

  And then he was tilting her chin, turning her face up to meet his. For a split second Molly considered making the kiss comically disastrous to make him laugh. Oh, but she didn’t want to. Imagine if they did end up getting married; the very first kiss should be a thing of beauty, shouldn’t it? Something to be remembered with fondness, rather than for its similarity to being attacked by a rabid camel . . .

  Their lips made contact and Adam pulled her closer. Hmm, this was nice, although the way his other hand was wandering over her bottom was a bit presumptuous. Molly reached down to move it away and—

  ‘You bastard, you complete BASTARD!’ shrieked a woman two inches from her ear.

  ‘Oh shit, no,’ Adam groaned as a pair of furious arms came between them, yanking them apart like a pair of mating dogs.

  Which they definitely weren’t.

  ‘What’s going on?’ said Molly, although it was pretty obvious.

  ‘Well, hello, Adam’s granny, you’re looking incredibly well,’ sneered a woman with super-thick false lashes and a mane of waist-length white-blond extensions. ‘Considering you’re eighty-five and at death’s door.’

  Oh God, everyone around them had stopped dancing and was staring avidly. Molly said, ‘Maybe he lied to you, but it’s nothing to do with me. I don’t even know him!’

  ‘Ha, I’ll bet. Girls like you make me sick, you should be ashamed of yourself. Sleep with someone else’s boyfriend, then go running off to the papers, that’s all your sort do—’

  ‘Will you tell her?’ Stunned, Molly appealed to Adam who was keeping well out of it. ‘Seriously, this isn’t fair.’

  ‘Shut up shut up SHUT UP,’ the blonde bellowed in her face. ‘And keep away from my boyfriend!’

  ‘But I wasn’t—’ Molly gasped and failed to jump out of the way in time as the contents of a wine glass scored a direct hit on the front of her dress.

  Chapter 29

  Molly froze.

  Her white dress.

  Red wine.

  All over.

  ‘Oh fuck.’ Adam grabbed hold of his girlfriend’s arms. ‘You shouldn’t have done that.’

  ‘Ha!’ White-blond extensions flying, his girlfriend jabbed a finger at Molly and shrieked back at him, ‘And you shouldn’t have been doing that!’

  Molly stared down, aghast at the state of herself. She looked like a murder scene and red wine was dripping from the ends of her hair.

  ‘Maybe that’ll teach you to keep your filthy hands off my boyfriend,’ the blonde yelled as Adam hauled her away. Aiming a wild slap at his head she added, ‘And I bloody hate you too!’

  Adam snapped back, ‘You stupid bitch, look what you did to her dress.’

  ‘Oh my God.’ Back from the ladies’ loo, Frankie stopped dead at the edge of the dance floor. ‘What happened?’

  Cat fights weren’t Molly’s scene. This was a nightmare. She turned and headed for the exit, dripping red wine all the way out of the club. On the pavement, yet more people turned to stare. One of the bar staff came after her.

  ‘Adam sent me out to say sorry and give you this.’ The boy handed her a wad of notes.

  On closer inspection it turned out to be less of a wad, more a select few; he’d evidently valued her dress at sixty pounds.

  Luckily she’d found it in the Top Shop sale reduced to thirty. Win.

  ‘Tell Adam he and his girlfriend deserve each other.’ As Molly folded the notes, a flash went off and she saw the barman had just snapped her on his phone. ‘Hey. What was that for?’

  ‘Sorry. I just like taking photos to show my mum. Bye.’

  He disappeared back inside the club and seconds later Frankie came rushing out with her jacket slung over her arm.

  ‘I had to get it back from the cloakroom. Are you OK? I can’t believe she did that to you.’

  ‘He lied to her, told her he was visiting his grandmother in hospital. Come on, let’s go.’ Fed up with the attention they were getting, Molly crossed her arms across her drenched chest.

  As they made their way back to the hotel, Frankie said, ‘Honestly, and to think I’d wondered if we’d see any celebrities in London.’

  Molly’s footsteps slowed. ‘What does that mean? Was there someone famous at the club? Damn, I didn’t even see them.’

  ‘Are you joking?’ Frankie was giving her an odd look.

  ‘Why? No. Who did I miss?’

  ‘Are you serious? Don’t you ever watch Mortimer Way?’

  Molly shook her head; Mortimer Way was one of the soaps she’d never got hooked into.

  ‘The one who chucked wine over you,’ said Frankie. ‘She plays the hairdresser in it, the one who’s married to a transvestite.’

  ‘Oh, great.’

  ‘She just got out of prison for kidnapping her husband’s boyfriend.’

  ‘In real life?’

  ‘No, on the show. I don’t often watch it,’ Frankie said hastily. ‘Just catch it every now and again.’

  Back at the hotel, Molly filled the bathroom sink, attempted without success to scrub the wine stains out – well, you always have to try, don’t you? – and chucked the ruined dress in the bin.

  The signal wasn’t brilliant on her phone but a spot of Googling eventually informed them that the actress’s name was Layla Vitti. She was in her early thirties with a string – if not a tug-of-war rope – of disastrous romances behind her. She infamously fell for men who treated her badly and broke her heart. And now Adam appeared to be another one she could add to the list.

  ‘Why did she have to ruin our evening?’ Molly grumbled. ‘Why couldn’t she chuck red wine over her cheating boyfriend?’

/>   ‘Some women are like that. Never blame the man. What was he like, anyway?’ Having kicked off her shoes, Frankie began unzipping her own dress. ‘You looked as if the two of you were getting on so well.’

  ‘We were.’ Molly grimaced. ‘That’s because he forgot to mention he was a lying scumbag. Oh look, this was supposed to be your big weekend. It’s only one o’clock and there’s plenty of other clubs still open. Why don’t I change into something else and we’ll go out again?’

  ‘Honestly, I don’t think I can be bothered. What’s the point?’ Reaching for her pyjamas, Frankie said drily, ‘Knowing our luck, if we tried it we’d only end up meeting someone worse.’

  ‘Oh no, are you off?’ Lois looked desolate.

  Henry didn’t want to leave either, but it was eight o’clock on Sunday evening and there was still no sign of Frankie from the café. The situation was getting ridiculous now. He and Dex had spent last night here at the Saucy Swan while Amber and her boyfriend had babysat Delphi. This afternoon they’d come over to the pub again, this time bringing Delphi with them, and had eaten one of Lois’s stupendous Sunday roasts.

  ‘I am.’ Henry took out his car keys and realised she was going to kiss him. Since there was no escape, he braced himself and prepared to submit with good grace.

  ‘Well, make sure you come back and see us again. Soon.’ Earrings jangling and rose perfume wafting, Lois clasped his head in her hands and planted a smacker on his mouth. ‘Ha, your face! Sorry about that, couldn’t resist. Your fault for being so damn gorgeous. Did you enjoy the food?’

  ‘Very much.’ He nodded; this much was true.

  ‘She’s a fantastic cook,’ Dex said appreciatively. ‘That’s why we come here every week.’

  ‘Just one of my many talents.’ She winked at Henry.

  Lois was definitely a character. She was also terrifying. Covering his embarrassment, Henry turned to Delphi, who didn’t terrify him.

  ‘Bye, gorgeous. See you soon.’

  ‘Hear that?’ Lois beamed. ‘He’s missing me already.’