The One You Really Want (19 page)

‘. . . and that's why you've never even had a proper girlfriend! ' Carmen flung at him five minutes later. ‘You're just pathetic, immature and . . . and
shallow
.'

‘You're right.' Nodding in agreement, Rennie reassured himself that he was also a damn fine lay.

‘I feel sorry for you,' Carmen said disdainfully. ‘Deep down, you wish you could be as happy with someone as I am with Joe. You're just jealous.'

 

‘Hey, what's up? You're quiet tonight.'

Carmen shook her head and said automatically, ‘Nothing, I'm fine.' They were walking hand in hand across Leicester Square after leaving the cinema. She'd been looking forward to seeing the new Steven Spielberg film, but if Joe were to start quizzing her on the plot, she'd fail miserably. The trouble with being told something unpleasant was that whether it was true or not, you couldn't put it out of your head. When she'd yelled at Rennie she'd meant every word, but now the doubts were starting to trickle through her mind. It wasn't true, she was ninety-nine per cent sure. But what if it was? What if Rennie had a point?

‘I'm hungry,' said Carmen.

‘OK. How about if we grab a takeaway and head over to your place?'

Carmen shivered, less than keen to go back to Fitzallen Square. Rennie might be there. Oh God, what if Rennie
was
right?

She blurted out, ‘I don't want a takeaway. Can't we eat in a restaurant?'

‘Fine. Somewhere around here?' Letting go of her hand and sliding his arm round her waist, Joe said, ‘You choose. Anywhere you like.'

It was Friday night, the streets cold and busy. As they headed up a narrow road, Carmen spotted a restaurant that she'd visited before.

‘This one,' she announced when they reached it.

Joe paused, looking doubtful. The restaurant was French and frighteningly expensive.

‘Sure? Only, we're wearing jeans.'

Carmen's stomach tightened at this sign of reluctance.

‘That's fine, they won't mind.'

‘OK.' Joe gave her a reassuring squeeze. ‘If it's where you want to go.'

Hating herself for doing this - and hating Rennie for making her do it - Carmen said, ‘Listen, this place costs a bomb. Let me pay.'

Joe gave her a stern look. Then he shook his head. ‘No way. My treat.'

‘But it costs—'

‘Sshh, it's all right.' He placed a finger over her mouth. ‘I can afford it.'

‘But—'

‘No, don't argue. This is where you want to eat, so this is where we'll eat. And I'm paying the bill.'

‘We could split it,' said Carmen.

‘No,' Joe smiled and kissed her on the mouth, ‘we couldn't. I've never let a lady pay for dinner before and I'm not about to start tonight. I may not be able to afford to bring you here every night of the week, mind you, but every once in a - hey, what have I said now? Are those
tears
?' Turning her round, peering at her under the amber glow of the street-lamp, he said worriedly, ‘Why are you crying? Have I done something wrong?'

Blindly Carmen shook her head. As she wiped her eyes, she felt the ton weight of doubt lift away. ‘Nothing's wrong.' This time she truly meant it. Flinging her arms round Joe, she whispered happily, ‘Everything's right. Let's go back to your place.'

Joe looked concerned. ‘What about food? I thought you wanted to eat here.'

Carmen smiled, because he
still
wanted to treat her to an expensive meal. How could she ever have doubted him?

‘I've changed my mind. I want to go home.' Between kisses, she said, ‘I'd rather just be with you.'

 

‘Dad never knows when to stop,' Mia told Nancy with cheerful resignation as she sloshed wine into glasses. ‘Once he'd invited you lot over for drinks, he got carried away and started asking along a whole load of people from the club. His motto is, why have a small party when you can have a thundering great huge one. Which is fine,' she went on, ‘until he goes, “Oh Mia, you're so great at cooking, quickly rustle up enough food for eighty people, would you?” I mean, for a supposedly intelligent man, he can be awfully thick sometimes. If I hadn't bumped into your mum this morning, we'd all have been eating bowls of porridge.'

‘Och, it was nothing.' Rose, pink-cheeked with pleasure, was busy ladling chilli and rice into bowls.

‘It was a
lot
,' Mia corrected her. ‘You were like a fairy godmother flying to my rescue. She overheard me as we were leaving our houses,' she explained to Nancy. ‘I was on my mobile to Jason, the chef at the Lazy B, having a quick panic attack and asking if he could help out. Which of course he
couldn't
, the lazy bum. Next thing I knew, Rose was offering to give me a hand.'

Rennie, helping himself to a bowl of chilli, said, ‘If Rose overheard a bunch of crooks planning to rob a bank she'd offer to give them a hand. She can't help herself.'

‘Behave.' Rose flicked him with a tea towel.

‘You would, Rose. You know you would. If you heard a drugs baron complaining that he couldn't get anyone to smuggle a load of coke through customs, you'd say, “Oh hen, that's no problem, I can do that for you.”'

‘He's a wicked boy.' Rose's eyes were twinkling. ‘Such a tease. Here, make yourself useful and drain this pasta.'

‘Hey, hey, what's going on here?' Connor exclaimed, appearing in the kitchen. ‘You're supposed to be enjoying the party, not draining pasta.'

‘It's Rose,' said Rennie. ‘You wouldn't believe how bossy this woman is. She's working me like a dog.'

‘Ignore him,' Rose told Connor, ‘he's nothing but a moaning Minnie. We're almost done here, pet,' she promised. ‘As soon as everything's in serving dishes, everyone can help themselves.'

Nancy, busy collecting forks and spoons from the cutlery drawer, was appalled to discover that Connor's arrival had caused her heart to start galloping, even though she now knew he had a girlfriend. Sadie was in the living room, less than twenty feet away, looking even more formidable tonight than she had yesterday. She was poured into a slinky silver dress and wearing more make-up than ever. Yet her terrifying presence wasn't having the desired effect. Nancy, try as she might, was unable to stop herself reacting physically to the sight of Connor, or to the sound of his voice. It was like being fourteen again, and having a violent crush on the boy next door. Except it was that much more humiliating when you were twenty-eight.

‘Right, that's it,' Mia declared, wiping her hands on a towel and grabbing a can of Tropical Lilt from the fridge. ‘We're done. Time to start enjoying ourselves. Come on,' she urged Nancy, sensing reluctance. ‘Don't you like parties?'

‘The last party I went to, I came face to face with my husband's mistress.'

‘Then this one will be
much
better.' Unfazed, Mia chivvied them through to the living room. ‘I'll introduce you to everyone from the club. They're all really nice. Well, with one hideous exception, obviously.'

Rennie grinned. ‘Who's the hideous exception?'

‘The one in the Bacofoil. Sadie Sylvester. She's my dad's girlfriend and she hates me. But that's OK,' Mia went on chirpily, ‘because I hate her too.'

‘Not very Waltons,' said Rennie.

‘I'll say it isn't. You don't get people in the Waltons dancing like
that
.' Mia pulled a face as Sadie gyrated like a lap dancer. ‘Yuk, she thinks she's
sooo
irresistible. Actually,' she brightened and gave Rennie a nudge, ‘you could chat her up, she'd probably go for someone like you. Then, when she starts flirting back, Dad can get really annoyed and dump her. That'd be perfect.'

‘Or deck me,' Rennie drily observed. ‘Anyway, I wouldn't do that to Connor.'

‘But you'd be doing him a
favour
. Crikey, you'd be doing
all
of us a favour. Isn't that what neighbours are for?'

‘Sorry, not a chance.' Pointing to a willowy blonde across the room, Rennie said, ‘Who's that?'

‘Zoe? She's one of the lifeguards at the club.'

‘Single?'

Mia rolled her eyes. ‘Single.'

‘Hooray,' said Rennie. ‘Maybe she'd like to save my life.'

They watched him go.

‘Men, honestly.' Mia tut-tutted. ‘No help at all. How am I supposed to get rid of Sadie?'

‘Arsenic?' Nancy suggested.

Mia squeezed her arm. ‘Wouldn't that be great? Honestly, it's so unfair. Why can't Dad go out with someone lovely like you?'

Hear, hear, thought Nancy, draining her glass of wine and feeling the warmth spread through her stomach. Why couldn't he? She'd spent the morning in the hairdresser's getting three shades of blond highlights, and the afternoon deciding what to wear tonight, finally settling on an electric-blue jersey top and white trousers. Except now that she was here surrounded by outrageously dressed, seasoned party-goers, she felt like a Blue Peter presenter.

‘You could give it a whirl,' Mia persisted.

‘Oh yes, that'd work.' Nancy watched Connor, now laughing with Rennie and Zoe-the-lifesaver. He had a cigarette in one hand and a bottle of lager in the other, and just the thought of talking to him was glueing her tongue to the roof of her mouth. But how were you supposed to control the way you felt about other people? Maybe Connor could stand to lose a couple of stone, maybe he wasn't the world's sharpest dresser and maybe he could do with a visit to the hairdresser himself, but there was just something about him that made her go weak at the knees with longing.

Presumably Sadie Sylvester felt this way too.

‘You could join the Lazy B,' said Mia, ever hopeful. ‘Act like you're interested in Dad.'

‘Look, I'd love to help, but I couldn't pretend to be interested in your father.' At least this much was true. ‘And Sadie would definitely deck me.' And Connor wouldn't be remotely interested in me either, but never mind that.

‘Oh well, I'll think of something. Maybe what we need's another drink.' This time Mia didn't bother with Tropical Lilt. Grabbing a fresh bottle of wine, she refilled Nancy's glass, then deftly emptied the rest of the bottle into her empty Lilt can.

‘Should you be doing that?' Nancy glanced across to see if Connor had spotted the manoeuvre.

‘It's a party. I've been working my socks off all day.' Clanking the can against Nancy's glass, Mia added gaily, ‘Anyway, I'm sixteen, not six. Cheers!'

By ten o'clock the dancing was in full swing. Connor pulled Nancy energetically onto the dance floor, not realising what he'd done until he saw her flinch and bite her lip.

‘Oh God, oh Jesus, I'm
sorry
.' Hitting his own forehead in despair, he reached for her wrists and examined the angry grazes on her palms. ‘What an idiot I am. I completely forgot. Feel free to kick me as hard as you like - go on, right there on my shin.'

Nancy smiled, the twin explosions of pain slowly receding as Connor made his over-the-top apologies. It wasn't easy to behave in a natural friendly manner when you were being invited to kick someone you had a violent crush on. It was harder still when you were aware that his girlfriend, standing less than six feet away, was watching you like a kestrel watches a baby shrew.

But Connor, determined to make amends and oblivious to Sadie's glares, pulled Nancy into an ungainly bear hug and said in her ear, ‘I'm glad you came tonight.'

It wasn't a romantic gesture, Nancy knew only too well. He was just being friendly. But it still felt wonderful.

Behind Connor, she could see Mia giving her the thumbs up, nodding and winking encouragingly.

‘I'm glad we came along too,' Nancy told Connor.

‘But it's . . .' he frowned at his watch, ‘gone ten, and still no Carmen. Are you sure she's coming?'

Nancy wasn't sure at all. Carmen was barely on speaking terms with Rennie. Upon hearing about the party, she had announced that she was working at the shelter until nine and
might
come along later. And no, she most certainly would not be bringing Joe. What, with Rennie there? Was Nancy serious?

‘Maybe not,' Nancy admitted. ‘She . . . um, might have to work late.'

‘Sounds like a dodgy excuse to me. I'm starting to wonder if we're ever going to meet her.'

‘Of course you'll—'

‘Whoops, sorry,' trilled Sadie, ‘didn't mean to step on your foot! Now, have you two finished chatting, because I'd quite like to dance with my boyfriend. This is our favourite song, isn't it, darling?'

Shania Twain was belting out of the speakers. Connor, looking bewildered, said, ‘Are you sure?'

But Sadie had already inveigled herself in front of him, tossing her magenta ringlets and gyrating her hips as only an aerobics teacher could. Making her escape before the ringlets could whip her painfully across the face, Nancy headed over to Mia and a couple of girls from the Lazy B.

‘Got your marching orders, then,' observed the taller of the girls, whose name was Therese.

‘Take it as a compliment,' Jess, the shorter girl, consoled Nancy. ‘She doesn't get nearly as het up when Connor's talking to someone ugly.'

‘But that's the thing,' said Therese. ‘Connor chats to everyone as if he fancies them. It's just his way. He's such a charmer, all he has to do is ask you if your verrucas have cleared up and you get that gorgeous squidgy feeling in your stomach. I mean, he doesn't
mean
to do it, he just can't help it, can he?'