Slightly Foxed (23 page)

"Yes. Yes, you're right, of course." I listened to the

background at his end for a moment. It was almost silent, no

sounds of anyone drinking or talking. If he was with Sarah,

she must have no bodily functions at all. "So, you'll see her

tomorrow."

"Yeah. Guess so."

"All right. Well, thanks, Piers."

A bit more of a pause. "You take care of yourself, okay?"

I smiled down the phone. "Yes. I will. See you soon, Piers."

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"Sure." He hung up. I still wasn't certain whether he'd

been with anyone or not.

The next morning Florence repacked most of her London

clothes and set off to visit her father. We said our goodbyes

at the bus stop, then she headed west, making me promise to

update her on the Grainger situation, as soon as I got in

touch with the vet. I journeyed into town, arriving at Webbe's

exactly the same time as Jacinta. This morning she was

dressed like a wallpaper sample book, in huge clashing floral

patterns. She was touchingly pleased to see me.

"Alys! You are being here! This is most early time for you.

Have you come from more partying with Piers? I am telling

you, Alys, Piers is
big
hot. Verrrry sexy boy."

"Yes, you
do
keep telling me that, don't you? But I notice

you turned down the party invite. You should have come,

Jace. All those very young men—it was a bit like a sixth-form

nightclub. Anyway, Piers and I had a bit of a disagreement so

I think we might not be seeing so much of him for a bit."

Jace just snorted and hustled off behind the curtain to put

the kettle on.

"Good morning, Alys. Is Jacinta here yet?" Somehow

Simon had managed to get into the shop unheard by either

Jace or me. Presumably he'd come in the back way whilst

we'd been talking on the step. Either that or he had his

spartan bedroll laid out in Biography and never actually went

home.

"She's making tea." I followed Simon as he went round,

which meant both of us caught Jace in the guilty act of

shoving a chocolate HobNob between her deep red lips.

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"Simon," she mumbled around the crumbs. "You are early

also."

"So I am," he said dryly. "Look, Jacinta, I need to have a

word with you." He turned to me, standing in the doorway.

"In private, Alys, if you don't mind."

I felt myself blush as though I'd already been

eavesdropping. "Oh. Right." I began to shuffle my way over

to the counter as slowly as was compatible with retreating

behaviour. I fired up the till and wondered was Simon really

going to sack Jace?

A customer came in, and I stopped pacing back and forth

beyond the curtain, trying to overhear. There hadn't been any

tears so far, nor shouting, and they'd been in there nearly

fifteen minutes. How long does it take to sack someone

anyway? A couple of minutes should do it, surely? I sold a

book absent-mindedly, still straining my ears for the sound of

sobbing. On either part since, if riled, Jace could have done

Simon some serious damage.

Then the telephone rang and took my mind off things. I

hoped it wasn't for Simon, since I didn't fancy putting my

head round the curtain after the no-nonsense way he'd

already told me to butt out, but it wasn't. It was Leo, for me.

"Good morning, Alys." He sounded bright and breezy.

"How are you today?"

"I'm fine, I think. How about you?" I was still uncertain

about the whole me-and-him thing, but I was having little

waves of good feeling towards him, and that was a start.

"Yes, I'm fine too. Look, I'm ringing"—he dropped his voice

and I wondered who was listening—"to ask if it would be

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possible for me to come and see you tomorrow. At your flat? I

can be there by, oh, sevenish, I should think. Would that be

all right?"

Oh God, was he going to give me the final talk? "I'm sorry

but this just isn't working." Followed by an excuse picked

from the Man's Get-Out Clause list? Just as I was beginning to

get my head around the idea of a relationship? My heart

pounded as I switched from being offhand to concerned. "I

think that would be very nice," I said inadequately. "Will Jay

not mind being left in charge?"

There was a short pause and I hoped he wasn't going to

ask if he could bring her too. "Jay—" He broke off and

restarted. "Jay is having a few days off. She's considering

taking up another position."

It might not be the Dear Alys talk after all. Leo sounded

too happy. Unless he considered he'd be well rid of me and

couldn't wait to move on to someone who knew a fetlock from

a crupper.

Leo was hesitant again and my heart took a dive. "I've

written a poem I think I'd like you to read."

Behind the curtain to my left there was a sudden

movement. Something poked the fabric until it bulged, then

swiftly subsided like a cheap erection. Half my mind was on

this, while the rest crept around the implications of what Leo

had said. "You want me to
read
something you've written?" I

sidled around trying to catch a glimpse of what was going on,

but the curtain was tightly pulled across the cubby hole. Not

so much as a sock was visible.

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"Er, yes. I think so. Well, don't be disappointed if I change

my mind, will you? I mean, I'll still come to see you, the

poem isn't—I mean—it's not just—" Mr. Diffident had clearly

taken control of Leo's body again. "About sevenish," and he

was gone, leaving the phone to feel the heat of his

embarrassment.

"Gosh." I stared down at the replaced handset, my mind

ringing like a bell.

"You are looking serious." Jace popped up at my elbow like

an economy-sized Jack-in-the-Box. "Is it that you are having

some news?"

I stared at her. She was smiling, her mascara was

unimpeachable, her lipstick unsmudged, evidently neither

sacked nor rogered. "Leo's coming visiting tomorrow night." I

followed this bald statement with a quick update on the

events of his previous visit.

"Ah." Jace sat on the stool next to me. "So."

"So? What did Simon want with you?"

"It is nothing. Just wishing to talk about my privates, you

understand? Personal."

I felt momentarily hurt that Jace expected me to give her

the down-and-dirty on my life while she kept her own locked

away, but then I thought of all the things about me which I'd

never told her, and forgave her. "Leo's such a nice guy, Jace."

"And you are not knowing what to do with nice, are you,

Alys? The men you are having, you are always choosing

because they are not wishing to have relationships with you.

They are wishing only for quick sexing."

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"No," I said indignantly. "It's just that that's how it's

always turned out."

Jace looked at me sternly. "Alys. I am seeing for myself.

You are not wanting men to be close to you, so you are

picking men who are not wanting to be close with anybody.

Then you are saying 'Boo hoo, he is not staying with me.'"

"I couldn't really have any kind of full-time relationship

though, Jace. It wouldn't be fair on Florrie."

"But, Alys, this is always being your excuse. You are not

seeing properly. Florence, she is a woman now, soon she will

be going away into this big world and you are needing

someone to show you that you can be a sexy woman again.

Is like you are
afraid
to be loving a man."

I sighed. "But is Leo that man? Is he the big
IT
?"

Jace inclined her head towards me. "Only you can know

these things. I hope that you will let me be meeting with him

tomorrow."

"Oh yes. Look, come over about eight. I'll get Florrie to

come over too. Maybe Mrs. Treadgold would like to pop in as

well. It might be time to break it to the group that I'm not

really dating Piers. I've got a book to drop off for her. I'll ask

her while I'm there."

"Hmm. I will come." Jace stood up and the heels of her

shoes squeaked as they took the strain. "You are needing my

vision of this man." She sauntered off into Science Fiction

with Neil Gaiman under one arm, leaving me to wonder what

she was going to make of Leo and what he would think of her.

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Mrs. Treadgold had been baking and her wig was coated in

flour. It made her look a little like a Christmas-tree ornament.

"Hello, dear. Would you like some cake?"

"No thanks. I've just dropped by to let you have the new

Mills and Boon book you were wanting. Oh, and to ask if

you'd like to come over to my flat tomorrow night."

Mrs. T shuffled backwards over her doorstep to allow me

into her tiny house. It always reminded me of an illustration

in a children's book, a four-square building with a wiggly path

up to the front door. "Is it a special occasion, dear? Or just a

get-together?"

"I'm having a visitor." I eased my way along the narrow

hall into the brightly lit kitchen. "I'd like everyone to meet

him. Oh." Under the fluorescent tube which illuminated her

surprisingly modern kitchen, Mrs. Treadgold looked pale.

Even her bright blue eyes had a faded look to them. "Are you

all right?"

She turned to the scrubbed table in the middle of the

kitchen and began parcelling up slices of cake into

greaseproof packets. "Old age, my dear. Comes to us all. Is

this visitor something to do with your young man?"

"I—" I sat down on one of the pine chairs. "I think I really

want some advice."

A cup of tea materialised, poured from the stoneware pot

which hid under the cat-shaped tea cosy. A slice of cake

joined it.

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"What sort of advice?" Mrs. Treadgold sat next to me, on

the chair with the embroidered cushion. That had cats on too.

She was a woman in the grip of a serious feline obsession.

"And is it advice you really want, my dear, or someone to

agree with something you've already decided? I mean, I can

give you all the advice in the world, but if you don't want to

do something, you're not going to, are you?"

I slumped even deeper into the chair and thought of

Jacinta's opinion. That I was too afraid to take a chance and

deliberately chose men who just weren't that into me to

prevent myself from ever having to work at a relationship.

"If you fall in love with someone," I said slowly, "do you

think it happens all at once? Or can you, for example, quite

like someone for a long time, then find that it's turned into

something else? Or do you just look at someone for the first

time and go—yep, he's the one?"

"Eat your cake, dear. Philosophy always goes down better

with a cup of PG Tips and a slice of banana loaf."

Obediently I ate. "So I suppose what I'm really asking is,

do you believe in love at first sight?"

Mrs. Treadgold sighed. "When I met Mr. Treadgold, I didn't

fall in love with him. Not at first. He was wearing a

slaughterman's apron and the most ridiculous hat I ever saw.

But. The first time I looked into his eyes, I knew."

"Knew? What, that you were in love?"

The teapot clanged against the side of her cup, as though

her hands were shaking. "I can't say that it was love, not

exactly. But it was something. I just felt—different. As though

he knew me from the inside out. Oh, I can't explain, not

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really, but to answer your question, no. I don't believe in love

at first sight. And anyone who does, in my opinion, is getting

love and lust mixed up. I believe that when you're with your

true love, you don't feel you have to hide any more. Does

that make sense?"

"Yes." It was true. I didn't have to hide with Leo. He let me

be who I was, without question. My heart gave a little skip.

We
could
make it work, Leo and I. Maybe this confusion I felt

about him was the first part of falling in love? Perhaps I

should stop worrying and just go for it, let myself fall.

At precisely seven the next evening, I was showered,

dressed in a form-fitting sweater and embroidered trousers.

The flat was tidy and had been hoovered so thoroughly that

most of the remaining thread had left the carpet. I'd put the

roses in vases, borrowed from Mr. Roberts-next-door, around

the living room. With the few tea-light candles I possessed lit

under tinted glass shades, the place looked inviting and

slightly romantic.

At seven thirty-seven, there was a knock. I left a long

enough pause to indicate I wasn't standing right inside the