London Calling (7 page)

“Suitably lesbian but not too dykey?”

“What’s the difference?” Tom said, picking a bit of stray food from his bare foot and then grabbing the counter for balance.

“She’s going to be wowed,” Julia said. I hoped so, because my Plan A was probably making dinner with her new blonde-haired squeeze right now. I sighed anew but then slapped my mind back into the present and hoped that Julia’s comment proved to be true.

I spent the next hour and a half watching Tom and Julia expertly doing the dinner party waltz, preparing prawn cocktails, lamb rack, veg and dauphinoise while also preening their table until it looked like it had just stepped out of the pages of a glossy magazine. I pondered on the fact they were so grown up while I was, well, not, but then decided I had to get into the headspace of being Mrs Available & Attractive for my date. Attention.

While they prepared, I drank and chatted which meant that by the time the doorbell went signalling the next guests, I was a touch squiffy. I ran to the loo to check my hair and ensure that none of Tom’s crostini had taken up residence in my front teeth. They hadn’t. I heard Tom greeting male voices, so rushed out of the loo to say hi to Andy and Jason, a gay couple I’d spent many an evening being fed and watered with.

“You’re back!” squealed Andy, kissing both cheeks before holding me at arm’s length. “Looking gorgeous too, you fox!”

I loved Andy, he always said the right thing even if it was a total lie. He once told me he loved my hair and I believed him until I realised we were speaking on the telephone.

“Another set-up for you tonight, Jess,” said Jason. He followed up with a double kiss. “Let’s hope she’s as good as the last one – I could do with a laugh.”

Andy and Jason had been together as long as I could remember and they were Julia’s go-to gay couple. Apparently they hadn’t always looked like each other but as tends to happen after a while they’d now managed to morph into one goateed, dark-haired whole, both with flat stomachs, pressed jeans and shiny shoes. They also both owned a ridiculously sharp sense of humour and spent most of the evening laughing at one another’s jokes. Truly a match made in heaven.

“I’ll bring the champagne out as soon as Ange arrives – she’s running a bit late,” Julia said. She ushered us into the lounge.

We all sat down on the dark grey sofas as Tom came in carrying cold beers to accompany the nibbles, then he rushed out again in a blur. In between the boys arriving, Tom had changed into a grey shirt with black piping, very on-trend. Jason moved a coaster along the coffee table towards me, knowing Tom would have a cardiac otherwise.

“So you,” Andy said. He nudged me in the ribs. “How are you? How’s being back?”

“It’s good,” I said, through a mouthful of crisps. “You know, challenging at first but I think it was the right move.”

“But what happened with that girl? When we were round here last you were all set with some Aussie, Julia told us – TV exec?”

“I was…” I said. “But I’m not anymore.”

“Well I guessed what with you being here,” he replied.

“So is this move for good?” Jason asked.

I smiled. “Yep – you’re stuck with me now, like it or not.”

“I like! And now we can get back to normal after a break of a few years, right?” Andy said.

“Absolutely – what is a Saturday round here without me being on a blind date?”

“Not a fun one,” said Jason.

Twenty minutes later the doorbell rang and I put down my Stella, ran my fingers through my hair and took a deep breath. I needn’t have worried.

Ange turned out to be a hot brunette with cascading shiny shoulder-length hair and someone I would never approach in a million years. She was slim, just-so jeans, designer shirt and stilettos. Heels and jeans always made me flustered and tonight was no exception. I swallowed hard and shook her hand, gratified as I looked into her darting hazel eyes that she seemed just as nervous as me.

“I’ve heard a lot about you – Julia should go into PR,” she said. I liked the feel of her hand – a firm handshake but soft, cared-for skin.

“Neither of you need any PR, the raw material’s so good,” Julia said. “Right, now that’s the awkwardness out of the way. I just want you to know that I don’t expect you to sleep together tonight but I do expect to be a witness at the wedding, okay?”

Ange laughed and I rolled my eyes, to which Julia looked thrilled.

“I’m glad we’re in the same firm, Julia. With logic like that, I’d hate to come up against you in court,” Ange said.

“Piff and paff,” she replied, picking up a bottle. “Now then, champagne?”

***

My blind date turned out to be witty and good company, laughing at my jokes, refilling my glass and having a sense of humour about her chosen profession. She managed to charm the boys as well as me and made all the right noises about my chocolate cake when it came to dessert, declaring she’d always fancied dating a chef – “sex and food on tap, what more do you need?” I blushed, which Julia took great satisfaction in pointing out.

One thing Julia hadn’t mentioned though and I was sure she would have noticed was that Ange had one distinct drawback – her voice was shrill with a matching laugh that reverberated around my skull longer than it should.

I knew after the first sentence when her voice soared through the octaves with excitement while she was chuckling at a well-known TV advert that anything that transpired between us would not be permanent. I like to talk and I like to listen, but not to such a piercing cry as hers. My inner judgement had already decreed this was a non-starter. Shame, because she was hot. It looked like Plan A and Plan B were out the window and I’d have to come up with a Plan C. I hoped we wouldn’t have to chug too far through the alphabet until I hit the magic letter.

We moved on to the cheese course, Tom fetching the port to go with it. Jason asked what we’d score the evening if it was on Come Dine With Me. Unanimously we all plumped for 10, apart from Tom who said we were all far too polite and a ten needed a constant flow of champagne all night long.

He fished out some Spanish brandy to round off the consumption and offered the boys cigars. They declined, but Julia and I grabbed them, plonked Tom next to Ange and made our excuses. Once outside, Julia was almost bursting with excitement.

“So?” she said. She grinned and was hopping from foot to foot while also pulling on her cardigan to shield her from the breeze. The barmy day had turned into a typically frigid night and the wind seemed to possess teeth, biting us through our skimpy attire.

“Do you like her?”

I lit my cigar and sucked, then coughed abruptly.

“Are you really going to smoke that? I thought it was just so we could go outside and have a sneaky chat,” Julia said. She looked pained.

“Good point,” I said, coughing some more. “Looks cool though, doesn’t it?”

Julia slapped my arm.

“I didn’t think anyone actually smoked cigars?”

“They don’t. Just idiots like me.” Still coughing, face turning red.

“Stop avoiding the question!”

“Er, in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m dying here.”

“Well die a bit quicker so you can answer please,” Julia said.

“What was the question again?” My eyes were streaming now.

“Jess…”

I eventually stopped coughing and gulped in the fresh air, its chill searing my throat. I was going to have to check my make-up on the way back in too.

“God. Yes, she’s great. Perfect even. Apart from...”

Julia raised an eyebrow.

“Apart from?”

I looked a bit sheepish and put the cigar to my lips again.

“What are you doing?” shrieked Julia. She swatted it away.

“You know,” I said. I nudged her arm with my elbow.

“No, I don’t. I mean, she’s sexy, well off and she’s clearly into you. What am I missing?”

I pushed myself heavily off the wall and sighed.

“Her laugh.”

“Her laugh?”

“And her voice. They’re a little shrill don’t you think?”

“I knew you might think that…”

I shrugged. “But she is hot, you were right on that one.”

“So a non-starter?”

“Depends if she talks while she’s having sex.”

“You’re such a bloke sometimes,” she said. She slapped my arm and feigned outrage unsuccessfully.

“Pot, kettle,” I replied.

“And there was me thinking this was a sure thing.”

“Never say never.”

We both shivered.

“Anyhow, can we go in now, I’m cold,” she said. Disappointment coated every word. “You never know, though – I don’t think it’s a deal-breaker…”

“We’ll see,” I said. I kissed her cheek, stopping en route to make sure I didn’t look like a drowned panda. I didn’t – turns out waterproof means waterproof. When we went back in we found Tom in the kitchen lining up cocktail glasses on the counter.

“I was thinking espresso martinis?” he said. He had a cocktail shaker in one hand, vodka in the other.

“And this is why I’m marrying you.” Julia squeezed him from behind.

“I take it we all want one?” he asked, looking at me.

“I might want three but we’ll start with one,” I said. Tom grinned.

From the lounge we heard Soft Cell’s
Tainted Love
get cranked up and Andy and Jason singing at the top of their voices. Julia and I exchanged grins and went to investigate.

***

Two hours later we were three martinis and a vat of tequila down and putting the world to rights. The Middle East, religion, The X Factor, psychologists and noisy neighbours were just some of the topics that had been covered in-depth, along with the impressiveness of my cakes which Ange was keen to labour.

“That was, honestly, the best cake ever,” she kept repeating, looking into my eyes. I knew it was the booze but suddenly her voice didn’t seem quite so grating. Now, all I could hear were her eyes, her neck, her breasts sitting perkily in her shirt.

Julia came back into the room from the kitchen and sat in Tom’s lap, looking suitably glazed. I put my hand on her knee and looked at her fondly.

“And after all our chat, we haven’t even talked about the most important thing,” I said, rubbing her knee. “Your wedding! And you too, Tommy. I mean, fuck! How did that happen?”

“I dunno man,” Tom said. “One minute we’re just Tom and Julia, the next we’re going to be man and wife. Scary stuff. Give us a few years and we’ll have two kids and a station wagon.”

“For some reason, every time Tom talks about having kids he turns American. It’s an estate car darling,” Julia said. “Besides, they’ll be no children here, remember.”

“Oh I remember,” he said, putting his arms around Julia’s waist. “It’s just, I have this recurring dream that once we’re married, we’re suddenly going to start producing children against our will – it’s just something that’s going to happen and we won’t be able to help it.”

“Tom’s convinced I’m going to turn into some kind of Stepford wife and we’ll move to an American suburb where all I want to do is iron and all he wants to do is mow the lawn and play with power drills. I put it down to an overdose of American films and dramas.” Julia raised her hand to ruffle Tom’s hair and he leant into her embrace.

“It could be worse – at least he’s not watching Shameless,” Ange said.

“Oh I watch that. I just choose my fantasies carefully,” Tom said.

“Well if you do pop out a couple, be sure to name them all-American names too,” Ange said. “Brad, Maddy, Chip, that sort of thing.”

The thought of children made Julia shudder and Tom pulled her close, kissing her left shoulder as he did.

“You’ve got so many contraceptives pumping through you babe that nothing could get through,” he said.

The music changed from some hip new group to Duran Duran’s
Rio
, which made us all look over at Jason standing by the iPod.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist – final chance to dance!” he said, sweeping Andy off his feet and into the middle of the lounge.

“One for the road?” Julia said. It was a statement not a question as she picked up the tequila and poured us all another shot. We slammed at speed then, clearly energised, Ange got up too and yanked me out of my chair to dance. Julia joined us too and I looked over at Tom who was sat back taking it all in, a contented smile on his face.

Three songs later, the tequila had been drunk and the clock had edged itself around to nearly 3am. Ange didn’t want to leave the dance floor though and twirled me into Julia, who tumbled into Jason and Andy and there was a smash as a wine glass was dislodged from the table. We all twirled, stopped and held our breath.

“It’s fine everyone, carry on!” trilled Julia over the music. “Just mind the glass.”

Tom was down on his hands and knees picking up the larger pieces and Andy turned on the top light and joined him. Ange, however, took Julia at her word and put her other hand around my waist, turning my body into a slow dance against the music, our breasts touching, our thighs in hot proximity.

Close up, she was around 4 inches taller than me in heels, with glossy hair and fantastic lips that smiled down at me. I accidentally kicked Andy, still on his haunches collecting stray glass, as my concentration went walkabout as a consequence of being railroaded by Ange. Perhaps Julia was right – if she didn’t open her mouth she’d be almost perfect.

The boys all scurried out to the kitchen with the glass in their hands, leaving Ange and I alone in the lounge. She pulled me closer then twirled me away, like we were a couple on Strictly Come Dancing. Then she spun me back and as I landed against her warm body I felt a familiar jolt between my legs. High pitch or not, my libido was kicking in because a tall, attractive stranger was dancing with me.

If we’d been in a club I guarantee you we’d have been snogging by now. I think the same thought crossed her mind as she realised where we were and we both pulled back, the bright overhead lights of the lounge becoming too glaring. Out of sight, we could hear the others clearing up in the kitchen.

“And then there were two,” I said. My voice was husky and I was aware of the electricity in the air.

“It seems that way,” she said. “I think that might be a natural end to the evening anyway, what with it being nearly three o’clock.” Her eyes were slightly bloodshot. “We live the same way. Fancy sharing a taxi?” Here was an invitation.