Rachel Does Rome (9 page)

I have every intention of saying calmly, as I’d planned, ‘That’s fine, but I was
annoyed at the time.’

But I’m tired and hung-over, and coming down from the weekend, and instead what comes
out is, ‘I thought you were ignoring me.’ I have a catch in my voice that soon turns
into real tears. ‘And it was Valentine’s Day!’ And now I’m sobbing for the whole street
to see, and totally mortified. I must look like the most pathetic drama queen in West
Hampstead.

‘Oh my God! Rachel!’ He drops the flowers and pulls me into his arms. I breathe and
gulp, inhaling his familiar scent and feeling the wool of his coat against my cheek.
‘I thought you didn’t care about it! We said we wouldn’t do anything.’

‘No! We said we would do something low-key. And I know you had to work, but it still
sucked that you changed your mind about it.’ I’m still gulping and sniffing in a very
undignified way. I scrabble in my pocket for a tissue, and find one from the café
in Rome.

‘Honey,’ he says, leaning back and looking at me. He’s never called me that, or anything
like it, before. The tenderness in his eyes almost makes me start crying again. ‘I
did
do something low-key. I sent you a card. But then I missed you, so I came back from
Bristol early. I would have gone to the airport to meet you but I couldn’t remember
which airport you were coming through.’

‘But that’s crazy! You could have been waiting hours.’ I start laughing, but it turns
into sobs again. Oliver hugs me, and then kisses me through my tears.

‘Come on. Inside,’ he says. He hands me the flowers, picks up my suitcase, and holds
the door open for me once I’ve unlocked it. He stops at my pigeonhole and takes out
a card, and hands it to me as well. He’s not afraid to boss me around sometimes. And
once in a while, when you’ve been making decisions all day, that’s what you need.

‘How was Rome, anyway?’ he asks, as we toil up the four flights of steps.

‘It was fine,’ I say, but I’m still feeling irrational and sulky, and I can’t help
adding, ‘How was lovely Laura?’

‘Who? She’s fine! Rachel, what are you—’

I say nothing as we go inside my flat.

‘Look, I’m sorry I had to go to Bristol,’ he says. ‘I really am. But I thought you
didn’t mind. I thought we agreed to do something low-key for Valentine’s Day, like
sending a card.’

‘Well, I thought we agreed to do something low-key together,’ I say, dully. I’m sick
of the whole subject of effing Valentine’s Day now; I never want to hear it mentioned
again.

Oliver is still staring at me. I can practically hear the wheels clicking.

‘I didn’t think you cared so much . . . about Valentine’s Day,’ he says.

‘I don’t give a shit about it! I only care about
you
,’ I say, blowing my nose again.

‘Do you?’ he says, a smile breaking out over his face.

I nod. ‘Well, I love you. What do you think of that?’, he says.

I’m laughing
and
crying now. ‘I like it. I mean, I love you too.’

He kisses me again, and we look at each other, grinning like idiots at what’s just
happened. And in that moment I realise that I could tell him absolutely anything.
I could even tell him about meeting Jay, though I can’t be bothered yet because Jay
is so boring. And I know that it’s all going to be OK.

Oliver sits down in my armchair and pulls me onto his lap.

‘Tell me all about your weekend,’ he says, stroking my hair. ‘What did you do?’

‘Well, we didn’t do much sightseeing. But we had a lot of fun. It was gorgeous weather,
T-shirt weather. I bought some clothes. We met these crazy Americans, and I kept forgetting
my guidebook . . .’ I want to tell him everything, and I will, but there’s something
I want to ask him first. ‘Oliver, how would you feel about going to Bali with me some
time? Or somewhere like that?’

‘Sure.’

‘Really?’

He nods. ‘Of course. I’d go anywhere with you,’ he says, matter-of-factly. ‘Except
Bicester Shopping Village. One of my worst childhood memories is of my mum dragging
me around Bicester Shopping Village. Never again.’

I kiss him again, bubbling over inside with happiness. It’s not even that I care
about stupid Bali, it’s the principle of the thing. Although the one attraction is
that at least we wouldn’t run into Jay there.

Before we get completely carried away, I remember the flowers. He gets up and stands
behind me as I fill a jug at the sink, grabbing my waist and kissing the nape of my
neck. I dodge him, laughing, and put the flowers in water.

‘D’you like them?’ he asks doubtfully. ‘There wasn’t much left at Paddington station.
I wasn’t sure what to get.’

‘Yes!’ This isn’t a fib. They’re the most hideous flowers I’ve ever seen, and I love
them. I turn around and kiss Oliver again, thinking that February might turn out to
be my favourite month after all.

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