Strictly Love, page 15
‘I may be sad,’ Mark said, settling down in front of the TV, ‘but it's better to be a tit than to spend my days flitting from woman to woman without ever committing to any one of them.’
‘You only say that because you don't have it the way I do,’ said Rob with a lightness he suddenly didn't feel. Since Mandy had disappeared over the horizon he hadn't spotted any more potential at the ballroom-dancing classes. Maybe the supply was drying up. Or maybe he was losing his touch.
Rob told himself not to be so stupid. There were plenty of other women, and he'd never had difficulty pulling before. It was just that he'd hit a barren patch. Nothing had changed.
Except perhaps you, a little voice whispered. Rob had spent fifteen years running away from his past, running away from commitment. He'd always told himself that that was what he wanted. So why, now, did he feel so very lonely?
Chapter Sixteen
‘Muy bien, mis chicos. You two are doing so well, I might have to think about moving you up to the intermediate group,’ Isabella announced to Rob and Katie at their next dance class, as she helped them perfect their quickstep. ‘If you wanted you could even try out for a medal.’
‘What do you say, Katie?’ Rob asked. ‘You know how I'm longing to show you my best moves.’
‘I'll think about it,’ said Katie, as she pulled back laughing. She carried on laughing as Isabella clapped her hands to indicate that the music should start up again. Rob twirled her round the room and she felt light and pretty, and free. All the things she never felt normally.
She found less and less to laugh about at home these days; she was tense with the boys, miserable with Molly. Her perfect home was beginning to feel like a prison. Rob, it seemed, was the only person who could make her laugh. Charlie certainly didn't any more. When he was at home he barely communicated with her, spending hours in his upstairs office. Several times she had caught him in furtive whispered conversations on the telephone, which he'd cut short when she came in. Her suspicions were aroused, but it was proof of what exactly? Katie was enough of a realist to know that Charlie was displaying all the signs of a man with a mistress, but too much of an ostrich to want to really face up to the truth. She couldn't bear the fact that the carefully constructed edifice she had erected of a perfect family life might be crumbling apart. She hadn't even confided her suspicions to Emily.
The one person who had seen through her was her mum. Which had surprised Katie. It wasn't as if they were close. The last time Mum came to lunch, Charlie had snapped at Katie a couple of times and Mum had pursed her lips and looked askance in that infuriating superior way of hers, as if she could see something that Katie couldn't.
Tonight she'd come to babysit. Being Mum, she made a great fuss about the fact that she'd had to drive the full half an hour from Crawley to get there. ‘Some of us still work, you know,’ she'd bitched before she had even got her coat off.
Katie bit back a response, so practised was she in the art of not getting into fights with her mother, but it had got them off to an unsettled start. Mum had proceeded to tell her that she spoiled Molly (was it, Katie wondered, really possible to spoil a baby?) and should leave her to cry more often, and made loud remarks about women with over-tidy houses having too much time on their hands.
But the crunch had come when Katie came downstairs from putting Molly in her cot.
‘I don't mean to pry,’ began Mum, ‘but is everything okay between you and Charlie?’
‘What makes you say that?’ Katie said waspishly. She knew she was being defensive.
‘He does seem to be away on business rather a lot.’
‘It's not his fault,’ protested Katie. ‘It's the way work is nowadays. At his level he has to be really involved in everything to do with this merger.’
‘I'm sure you're right, dear,’ said her mother, ‘but I couldn't help wondering if –’
‘Well don't,’ said Katie with an air of finality. ‘Don't wonder. Everything's fine.’
‘If you say so,’ her mum responded, in a tone which implied she didn't believe a word of it. ‘You can always talk to me, you know, I would understand.’
‘Thanks,’ Katie had said shortly, ‘but there's nothing to talk about.’
Besides, what could her mother possibly understand about her situation with Charlie? It was totally different from what had happened with Mum and Dad. It was Mum who'd deserted Dad, and left him in the lurch just short of his fifty-fifth birthday. He'd never recovered from the shock and less than two years later he was dead from a heart attack. Katie laid the blame squarely on her mother, and their relationship had never fully recovered.
‘So you're going to give it a go?’ Rob jerked her back into the present. Funny, how while dancing in his arms she could just drift off.
‘Give what a go?’
‘This medal thing,’ said Rob. ‘It might be a laugh.’
‘You're right,’ said Katie. ‘It might be a laugh.’
And heaven knows, she could do with one of those.
Emily hovered nervously outside the King's Head pub, a cosy pub on the High Street, where she was meeting Mark before going for a curry. It was a warmish spring evening, but then it was nearly May. The cheerful sound of birdsong had accompanied her walk into town. It was lovely, the evenings were getting lighter, and Emily felt she was finally casting off the slough of despondency she'd felt over the winter. She loved this time of year, with its hint of new beginnings and promise, but she wondered if she'd made a mistake with the light strappy summer dress and cotton jacket she'd chosen. Her legs were certainly feeling the chill due to her having opted for sandals.
Maybe April was a little too soon to discard her boots. She had felt the need to feel feminine, though. All the time she'd been with Callum, he'd barely noticed the way she looked, so unless she'd been coming from work she'd tended to go for the same jeans and T-shirt routine. Tonight she had spent a ridiculously long time choosing what to wear, and was regretting that she didn't have a convenient flatmate to check out how she looked. At one point she'd been so desperate for approval Emily had rung up Katie to ask if she could come round and model a couple of outfits, but hearing the sickness bug had now spread to Molly, she'd subsequently decided against it.
‘Hi.’ Suddenly Mark appeared as if from nowhere in all his heart-stopping gorgeousness.
‘You look lovely too,’ he said. ‘Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness, you know.’
‘Oh God,’ said Emily, 'did I really say that heart-stopping gorgeous thing out loud?’
‘You did,’ said Mark, ‘but I won't hold it against you.’
And then suddenly it didn't matter what she was wearing, or whether he'd notice that her heart was pounding and her hands were sweating, because she was out, alone with Mark. And there was no place she'd rather be.
‘What'll you have?’ asked Mark as he led her to the heaving bar.
‘Vodka and tonic, thanks,’ said Emily.
‘I thought you drank beer?’ Mark asked.
‘I do in the week. But it's Friday, and I'm celebrating,’ said Emily.
‘Celebrating what?’ Mark grinned.
‘Ooh, I don't know, the fact that it's Friday?’ She hoped that her own grin wasn't quite as goofy as she feared it was.
‘We could of course celebrate a new beginning,’ said Mark, as he skilfully guided her to an empty table nestled in the corner.
‘That too,’ said Emily, and chinked his glass.
There was a brief pause, before Emily said, ‘I really do owe you an apology, though. I should have come clean about being a lawyer before. It was just that you seem to have such a downer on them. We're not all bad, you know.’
‘And you seem to have such a downer on kids.’
‘Touché,’ said Emily. ‘Actually, I don't. Have a downer on kids, I mean. I quite like them really. But experience has taught me that a woman of my age, body clock ticking and all that – men don't tend to want you to talk babies straight away.’
‘Most men probably don't,’ said Mark. ‘But I'm not most men.’
‘I'm beginning to realise that,’ said Emily apologetically. ‘Anyway, I'm sorry I overreacted. I can see if I'd been straight from the beginning you wouldn't have felt the need to lie in the first place.’
‘I probably deserved it,’ said Mark. ‘Though, to be honest, I felt worse about deceiving the girls than I did you. Gemma has only just forgiven me.’
‘Go on then,’ said Emily, ‘tell me all about them.’
‘Are you sure?’ asked Mark. ‘There's nothing more boring than a proud parent.’
‘And are you a proud parent?’
‘Of course,’ said Mark. ‘Look, here's a picture of them. This is Gemma, who you've already met of course. She's thirteen, and here's Beth, who's ten.’
‘Oh, aren't they lovely,’ said Emily, feeling a peculiar mix of delight at Mark's obvious pride in his pretty daughters, who shared his arresting brown eyes, and a slight pang of envy that the little blonde one, certainly, took after the unknown mother, whom she hoped Mark had stopped thinking about.
‘I think so,’ said Mark, putting the photos away, ‘but then I am biased. What about you? Tell me about your family.’
‘Not much to tell,’ said Emily. ‘Mam, two sisters, all living near Swansea. That's it.’ She still found it hard to miss Dad out from the list.
‘Are your parents divorced?’
‘No,’ Emily swallowed. ‘My dad – he died six months ago.’
‘Oh, I'm sorry,’ said Mark, reaching for her hand.
‘It's okay,’ Emily said, trying to bite back the tears. ‘He'd been ill for a long time. He worked for a building firm in the seventies who had, shall we say, a rather cavalier approach to health and safety. Dad ended up working on a site where there was asbestos. He was ill for most of my teens.’
‘Emily, that's dreadful,’ said Mark. ‘I really am sorry.’
‘At least he's not suffering any more,’ she said.
‘What was he like?’
‘He was wonderful,’ said Emily. ‘As a kid he was always taking us out, giving us treats. He couldn't do that once he was ill, of course. But he was so brave. He's the reason I'm a lawyer, you know. I wanted to take on companies like his and get them to pay decent compensation …’
Her voice trailed off.
‘But instead?’
‘I seem to have got a bit sidetracked,’ admitted Emily. ‘The thing is, the firm I work for pays really well – I've got a huge mortgage and Mam got herself into a bit of a mess with scratch cards after Dad died. She's spent thousands on stupid offers, and calling those damned phone lines that promise you prizes. I'm helping her pay off her loan. I hate my job, but I can't afford to leave.’
‘I have days like that,’ said Mark. ‘You never know, though, maybe the job of your dreams will turn up someday soon.’
‘Maybe,’ said Emily.
‘Do you want another drink here, or one at the restaurant?’
‘It's a bit noisy here,’ said Emily, looking around at the pub, which was even busier than when they'd arrived.
‘Okay, restaurant it is,’ said Mark. He took her hand as they left the pub as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Emily's heart was singing. After all the angst and stress of the last few weeks she felt this was where she was meant to be. Here was a man who seemed to genuinely care for her; she'd be a fool to let him go.
‘Are you sure you're okay with me having kids?’ Mark asked as the waiter sat them down at their table. ‘They are really important to me, and you do need to understand they have to come first. But I can see they could complicate things.’
Emily didn't say anything for a minute. Mark was right. The kids were a complication. One she had never factored in before. Perhaps she should walk away now. But then she'd never known anyone like Mark before. She instinctively felt he was worth a little complication. She took a deep breath.
‘Yes, really, I am,’ she said. ‘I think it's great that you clearly have such a good relationship with them.’
‘I couldn't honestly say I have that great a relationship with Gemma at the moment,’ said Mark, ‘as she's going through a bit of an awkward phase, but they do mean everything to me. And I need you to understand that, if we're to get anywhere with this
– whatever this is.’ Emily took his hand and held it tightly. ‘The kids are part of you. And I'll do my very best not to
make that a problem.’ ‘Good,’ said Mark. ‘Love me, love my kids. That's the way it has to be.’ ‘Sounds good to me,’ said Emily. ‘Now, what wine do you recommend?’
‘How did you manage to persuade me to do this?’ Rob had just sat through a turgid presentation of the course he had found himself inveigled into helping on. ‘I'm missing my dancing class for this.’
‘Because I am wonderful and you love me deeply,’ said Jen.
‘Don't flatter yourself,’ growled Rob. ‘How am I going to keep with Mr Muscles over there?’
Mr Muscles was the highly toned and visibly hunky representative from Face the Fears, the activity company that was running the course. He had the innate confidence of the sporting jock, and Rob had loathed him instantly. Once upon a time, Rob had been active in adventures sports, enjoying climbing, hiking and canoeing, but since the accident he had dropped all of that. Watching Mr Muscles only highlighted how flabby and out of condition he really was. Perhaps he should start following Mark's lead and pop to the gym a bit more often rather than the pub.
‘It's not a contest,’ said Jen, laughing. ‘Honestly, Rob. Don't you ever grow up?’
‘Nope,’ said Rob. ‘So, this trip, then. Do you think it really helps the Year Nines to do team-building?’
‘We think so,’ said Jen. ‘Don't you do anything similar at your school?’
‘Nah, not really, but my lot are as apathetic as I am,’ confessed Rob. ‘The only reason I'm doing this is because of you.’
‘I do appreciate it, really I do,’ said Jen.
‘How good on the old health and safety stuff are they?’ Rob nodded at Mr Muscles. ‘I mean, I know he talked the talk, but abseiling, climbing, canoeing … There's a lot of potential for things going wrong there.’
‘I had you taped as a gung-ho adventuresome kind of guy,’ said Jen, somewhat surprised. ‘Surely you agree that some element of risk is worth it to broaden these kids' horizons.’
‘I do,’ said Rob, ‘in principle. And I agree we‘ve all got a bit obsessed with health and safety. But things can go wrong. I went on an adventure week very similar to this when I was at college and a kid died in a climbing accident. It was no one's fault, but it's left me very wary of doing this kind of thing.’
‘I'm not surprised,’ said Jen, ‘but honestly, we‘ve been using Face Your Fears for years and they have an excellent safety record.’
‘I'm sure they have,’ said Rob. ‘I'm just a bit paranoid about it, that's all.’
‘Are you sure you still want to come?’ asked Jen. ‘You should have said – you know, about the accident.’
‘It's fine,’ said Rob lightly. ‘It was a long time ago.’
‘Well, if you're sure …’ said Jen.
‘I'm sure,’ maintained Rob. ‘After all, like you said, they've got a great safety record. What could possibly go wrong?’
Mark sank down into Emily's soft white sofa with a contented sigh. It had seemed natural to walk her home after the restaurant, and even more natural to follow her in for coffee.
‘Actually, do you really want coffee?’ Emily came in the room clutching a bottle of wine, a corkscrew and two glasses. ‘I fancy some more wine myself.’
‘I think I can cope,’ said Mark. ‘And I have the perfect accompaniment.’
‘Oh?’
‘Ta-da!’ Mark waved aloft his Green Wing DVD. ‘I think we still have a couple of episodes left to watch.’
Emily loaded the DVD and clicked on episode nine, before settling down beside Mark. He sat staring at her in silent awe. She was so gorgeous. He was overcome with an overwhelming need to kiss her.
‘What?’ she said, as if suddenly aware of his interest. ‘Have I got a big zit on the end of my nose or something?’
‘No,’ said Mark, edging closer towards her. It had been eons since he'd been near a woman, since he'd been in a situation like this. And now he was here, he had a sudden urgent worry that Emily might not be interested after all. ‘I was just thinking – well, wondering if you were thinking –’
‘Thinking what?’ she asked.
‘What I was thinking?’
‘Which is?’ Emily gave him a look that made his heart flip over.
She was thinking what he was thinking.
‘Only this,’ said Mark, and kissed her.
Chapter Seventeen
‘Dad, do we have to go out?’ Gemma was whining as Mark rushed round the kitchen trying to throw things together for a picnic.
‘Yes, we do,’ said Mark. ‘It's a bank holiday, the sun is shining – at the moment – and I thought a nice day out would be just the thing to break the ice between you and Emily.’
‘Suppose I don't want the ice broken,’ said Gemma sulkily. She was sporting a black T-shirt bearing the legend Your worst nightmare, a black miniskirt and leggings with skulls on. Her hair had been slicked and spiked into a hairstyle that would have looked alarming on the most determined of goths. He couldn't quite work out whether she resembled a porcupine or a spiny urchin. She was certainly spiky enough for both.
‘Gemma,’ Mark was getting a bit fed up with her attitude, ‘I thought you were okay about me seeing Emily.’
‘Yeah, well, I don't see why we have to see her.’ Gemma was about to kick the table, but seeing Mark's look she fell short.
‘I want to meet her,’ Beth said as she came in. In his darker moments, Mark wondered whether she perfected this milk-of-human-kindness approach to curry favour, but dealing with Gemma was hard enough. If Beth was turning out to be as hideously manipulative as her mother, he wasn't at all sure he wanted to know.
