Forget Me Knot (27 page)

When she finally looked at herself in the full-length mirror, she decided she looked utterly kempt and perfectly sheveled and—even if she did say so herself—rather sexy.

She was even more cheered up when Dan not only told her how lovely she looked but was particularly complimentary about her hair. She, in turn, complimented him on his suit, which was navy, beautifully cut and set off by a
sparkling white open-necked shirt. For some reason—maybe because over breakfast she’d read part of a biography of Tony Curtis, which was being serialized in the
Daily Mail
— that quaint, old-fashioned word
dreamboat
came to mind.

He took her to an Italian place in Belsize Park. She hadn’t been anywhere like it in years. Franco’s was one of those traditional, family-run eateries with red-check tablecloths and Chianti bottles hanging from the ceiling. Toby never took her anywhere that wasn’t minimalist and edgy, in all the posh food guides, and cost a fortune. She could just see him turning his nose up at this place and dismissing it as an appalling, Disneyesque cliché.

Here—had she the mind—she could have tucked the corner of her napkin down her top and worn it like a bib, stuck her elbows in the air, got pasta sauce round her mouth and nobody would have given her a second glance.

While they waited for their food to arrive, they munched on bread sticks and drank the house Chianti. After a couple of glasses of wine, Abby found herself talking about Toby.

“Abby, we really don’t have to discuss the breakup. You’ve already said it makes you feel uncomfortable, and it really is none of my business. You don’t owe me any kind of explanation.”

“I know, but I feel ready to talk about it now… if that’s OK.”

“Of course it’s OK.”

Just then the waitress came over and placed steaming bowls of spaghetti vongole in front of them. Abby waited until the waitress was out of earshot. The she began twisting her fork in the mountain of pasta. “Toby’s gay,” she announced.

She was waiting for his look of surprise, his cry of astonishment, but there was none. He simply nodded.

She looked at him. “You guessed, didn’t you?” she said. “You worked it out that night in the elevator when I told you how bad our sex life was.”

“I have to admit that the thought did occur to me.”

She was shaking her head. “How come everybody was able to see it so quickly? Don’t get me wrong. I’m not that naive. It wasn’t that I didn’t suspect Toby was gay, but I could never be certain. I feel so stupid.”

“You mustn’t. If he told you outright that he wasn’t gay, what reason would you have not to believe him? He stuck to his story that he was too exhausted for sex. You loved him and had no reason to think he was being dishonest.”

“Maybe. But to think he started an affair with Christian…”

“What? The guy you told me about? Martin’s ex—the one who won’t let him have access to their dog?”

“The very same.”

Dan topped up her glass with wine. “So, what was your role meant to be in all this, to marry him and provide a smoke screen for his gay affairs?”

“Pretty much. I can’t imagine the likes of Lady Penelope handing over the family estate to her gay son.”

Dan’s face had darkened. “What he tried to do to you is unforgivable. Utterly and totally unforgivable. I can’t imagine how you must have felt, discovering he wanted to use you.”

She shrugged. “I’m not going to tell you I wasn’t devastated, but you have to understand that Toby lives in fear of his mother. Plus, his friends and work colleagues are nearly all upper-class or minor aristocracy, and they’re a pretty homophobic
bunch.” She lowered her voice. “Clearly they all choose to forget what they got up to at boarding school.”

Dan let out a soft laugh. He put his wineglass to his lips. “It’s commendable the way you make excuses for him, but I just want to thump him—or, even better, challenge the swine to a duel.”

She burst out laughing. “Now, that would be something worth watching.”

“You may mock, but when I was a kid I must have watched
The Three Musketeers
at least a dozen times, and I reckon I picked up several rather cunning and dastardly moves.”

She was laughing again. She’d never met anybody who had the ability to lift her spirits the way this man did.

“Toby’s sexuality aside,” Abby went on, “the class issue would always have been a problem between us. His friends thought it was hysterical that he was engaged to a girl from Croydon.” She told him about the country-house weekend in Dorset and how she’d been made to look a fool when she got dressed up for dinner.

He winced. “It really beats me how people can be so cruel.”

“It didn’t do much for my confidence, I can tell you. It was the same with his mother. She clearly expected him to marry a well-bred filly from the shires, and I was never going to be that. I would never have been good enough for her—particularly as I didn’t hunt. Lady P was master of her local hunt, ‘doncha know.’” She put her wineglass to her lips. “I think if I know one thing for certain, it’s that I never want to become involved with another rich, posh bloke. I just want to be with somebody ordinary and down to earth.” She wanted to add “like you,” but she didn’t,
because she didn’t want him to think she was being pushy and trying to take their relationship to the next level.

“I totally understand. I’d feel the same if I were you.”

She drank some more wine. “Look, if I gave you the impression I’m a terrible inverted snob, I’m sorry. I’m really not. It’s just that Toby’s friends are a bunch of racist homophobic bullies. I think it’s going to be a while before I make my peace with the upper classes.” She put her wineglass back on the table. “OK, that’s enough of me and my prejudices. How’s the film going?”

“Oh, you know… coming along.”

She accused him of being modest, and after some gentle persuasion she got him to admit that he was rather pleased with the rushes he and his editor had looked at the other night.

Neither of them could manage a whole dessert, so they decided to share a panettone-bread-and-butter pudding. “Thanks for listening to me prattle on about Toby,” she said, scooping up a spoonful of rich, creamy custard.

“It was no effort, honestly.”

“Well, thanks anyway.”

His hand moved across the table and gently squeezed hers. It felt warm and strong and she didn’t want him to let go.

“My pleasure,” he said.

After dinner he drove her home. As they pulled up outside the shop, she thanked him for another wonderful evening. “I’ve had such a great time.”

“Me, too. Abby?”

“Yes.”

“You know how I said this would just be dinner and there was no pressure?”

She nodded.

“Well, I was wondering if this would feel like too much pressure.”

“If what would feel like too much pressure?”

“This.”

With that he leaned across and kissed her very gently on the lips.

Afterward, she was smiling. “No,” she said, “that didn’t feel like too much pressure at all.”

“Good.” He moved even closer. “How’s about this?” He kissed her again.

“No, that’s fine.”

He began playing with her hair. Then his fingers moved over her lips and down her neck. Her entire body was prickling with delight and desire. Finally he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her a third time. In a moment they were in each other’s arms, her lips parted, his tongue frantically seeking and then finding hers. He tasted faintly of red wine. She could feel the moisture seeping from between her legs. If he’d suggested coming up to the flat, she wasn’t sure she would have had the strength to say no.

As they pulled away, she was aware that a single tear was falling down her cheek.

“Oh, God, I came on too strong. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

She shook her head and smiled. “No. No, you didn’t. I think I just feel a bit overwhelmed, that’s all.”

He wiped away her tear. “I’m sorry this is such bloody bad timing. If you think us seeing each other is going to be too much for you, we should end it here and—”

“No. I want to carry on. I really do.”

“That’s great, because I do, too.”

They kissed again and then again and a few more times after that.

They stopped only when a gang of teenagers in hoods appeared and hung around making
wurrgh
noises.

After a bit the kids disappeared. Nevertheless, he insisted on seeing her to her front door, where they kissed again.

She watched him drive off. Then she let herself into the shop and switched on the light. Her eyes went to the counter and the vase containing Dan’s feeble attempt at a flower arrangement, which she hadn’t had the heart to throw away. She smiled to herself. Then she went over to one of the zinc vases and helped herself to a purple stem of scented stock. As she climbed the stairs to her flat, she breathed in the sweet, heady aroma.

ON SUNDAY, ABBY HAD
lunch with Soph. Lamar was attending a World Health Organization conference in Luxembourg, where he was presenting a paper on infant malnutrition in the Third World.

The two women met at a café on Hampstead Heath. They ordered cappuccino and toasted paninis with sun-dried tomatoes, salami and mozzarella.

“Lamar is such a good person,” Soph said. “He really cares about the world—particularly children. It’s one of the reasons I’m crazy about him.”

“I take it he wants loads?”

“Children? Yeah, half a dozen at least.” Soph laughed and took a bite of panini. “Still, what the hell. I never had a figure to start with.” She paused. “So, come on, dish. You haven’t told me about your date with Dan. What did you wear? Where did he take you? What did you eat? Did he pay? Did he kiss you? How was it?”

“That gypsy skirt and top I got in Whistles. A lovely Italian place called Franco’s. Spaghetti vongole. Yes, he paid, although I tried to persuade him to go halves because
I know he doesn’t have a lot of money. Yes, he kissed me and, yes, it was great. In fact, it was more than great. It was bliss. Scozz hasn’t stopped teasing me about it, because I had told him our relationship wasn’t like that and there was no way Dan would kiss me.”

Soph laughed. Then she lowered her voice. “So, come on,” she said. “When are you going to—you know—do the deed?”

Abby suddenly realized her friend must have asked a dozen questions in the last two minutes. She decided to tease her a little. “Always with the questions already. What am I, a mind reader? I should know when I’m going to sleep with him?”

Soph got the joke and started to giggle. “God, you sound exactly like my great-aunt Yetta. But, come on, surely you’ve thought about it.”

“What am I? A nymphomaniac?”

“Abby, stop messing around. I’m being serious. You do want to sleep with him, right?”

“Of course I do. The truth is, it was as much as I could do not to invite him up to the flat last night.”

“God, you’ve really got it bad.”

Abby nodded. “You might be right, but I’m so worried about rushing into something I might regret.”

“On the other hand, Dan might be the best thing that has ever happened to you.” Soph spooned up some cappuccino froth. “By the way, I finally told my parents about Lamar.”

“You did? How did they take it?”

“Brilliantly.”

“See, I told you they would.”

“In fact, they were both pretty upset with me when I
explained how nervous I’d been about telling them.” Soph picked up her napkin and dabbed her lips. She looked troubled. “There’s something you should know.”

“Sounds ominous—God, you’re not pregnant, are you?”

“No,” Soph said with a half smile, “I’m not pregnant. I’m engaged.”

“Omigod! Soph! That’s amazing.”

“Isn’t it? I have to say it was an unconventional proposal. Lamar rang me last night from Luxembourg and we ended up talking for ages. All the time, I could just tell he had something on his mind. You know me. I kept nagging him about what it was. I just wouldn’t back off. In the end I must have worn him down, because he came straight out with it. He just said: ‘I love you and I want us to get married.’ At that point, I think I screamed. He said, ‘Is that a yes?’ I said it was most definitely a yes, and then we agreed to pretend he hadn’t mentioned the M word. That way he can still take me to dinner when he gets back and go down on one knee.”

“Oh, sweetie. I am so happy for both of you.” Abby stood up and put her arms round her friend.

“You OK with this?” Soph said. “I’ve been really nervous about telling you. After Toby and everything, I thought you might be a bit… you know…”

“Bitter, jealous and resentful?”

Soph nodded.

Abby returned to her seat. “Look, I’m not going to pretend the Toby thing hasn’t been hard. And, yes, part of me wishes you and I were both planning weddings and that we could go shopping for dresses together. How fabulous would that be? But you are my best friend. I love you and I want you to be happy. I couldn’t be more delighted that you’ve found Lamar. He’s good-looking, kind, intelligent.
He even has a social conscience. He’s perfect for you. I just know the pair of you are going to grow old together.”

“Thanks, Abby.” Soph reached across the table and took her friend’s hand. “That means so much to me.”