Girl on the Run (15 page)

There was a delay on the underground. By the time Jane got home, it was nearly seven.

Polly was waiting for her.
‘About time. Hurry up. You've only got an hour to get ready.’

‘
Can I have a cup of tea first?’

‘
I'll have it ready for you when you get out of the shower.’

When Jane emerged Polly was waiting, with a pile of clothes.
‘These are all my things from college. Maybe we can find something that fits.’

Jane stared at the mound.
‘I'm going out for dinner, not the Grammys.’

Polly ignored her and held up a dress.
‘How about this?’

It was dove
-grey with elbow-length sleeves and an inverted hemline. There was a delicate black design along the hem.

‘
I used to wear this with a jacket.’ Polly rummaged around.

Jane held the dress up.
‘It's beautiful.’ She gave it a little shake and it swished gently.

‘
I know.’ Polly continued searching. ‘I only wore it twice before I ballooned out of it. I remember Andy's expression when he first saw me in it.’ She stared into space for a moment, lost in the memory.

‘
Are you sure you don't mind me borrowing it?’

Polly returned to the here and now.
‘Go try it on. I'll never fit into it again. I'd rather it got worn.’

The dress fitted perfectly, except the neckline was too wide and showed her bra straps. Jane took a few moments to change into a strapless bra. When she returned to the living room, Polly was holding a black beaded jacket.

‘Oh, you look incredible.’ She gestured for Jane to twirl around. ‘That dress never looked so good on me. You've really got the legs for it.’

She handed Jane the jacket and steered her to a mirror.

The dress had a timeless quality about it and set off Jane's slim figure and height beautifully. She lifted her hair and piled it on her head. A few strands escaped and framed her face. Jane smiled. She looked very different from how she used to, in long sweeping gowns – often rented for the evening – and blonde. She rather liked the new Jane.

Polly joined her at the mirror.
‘You know, I think dark hair suits you much better than blonde ever did.’

* * *

When eight o'clock arrived, Jane was sitting on the couch, trying not to fidget. She wasn't nervous about going out with Marsh. After all, she'd seen him almost every day for the past few weeks. But Polly had made such a fuss that she found herself giving extra significance to this, her first real date with him, where he would see her in her finery. Her nerves meant that it had taken her longer than usual to apply her make-up. She even caught herself wishing she could just phone up the stylist who used to do her hair and make-up when she went to big events with Ashby.

At exactly eight there was a knock on the door. Polly sprang to answer it, leaving Jane to stand uncertainly in the middle of the living room.

‘Hi,’ said Polly. ‘You must be Marshall. I'm Polly.’

Marsh stepped into the flat and shook Polly's hand. He was wearing a big overcoat that made his shoulders look broader than usual. Underneath, he was wearing a suit, but with no tie. His shirt, a green one that somehow made his hair and eyes look browner than usual, was open at the neck. This little touch had the effect of making him look laid
-back and made Jane think very naughty thoughts.

When Marsh caught sight of her, his eyes widened. For a moment, he looked completely frozen, as though he'd stopped breathing.

Jane felt a rush of satisfaction at getting such a reaction. ‘Hi.’

‘
Wow! You look … amazing.’ He seemed to have forgotten Polly was there. His eyes were sparkling when he kissed her cheek.

‘
Have you heard anything about the partnership?’ she said, trying to sound casual.

‘
I'm not thinking about that this evening.’ He offered her his arm.

‘
You kids have fun,’ said Polly.

‘
It was really nice to meet you, Polly,’ Marsh said. ‘I've heard a lot about you.’

‘
Likewise.’ Polly gave Jane a quick glance. ‘It's nice to put a face to the name.’

‘
I think we should get going.’ Jane steered Marsh out of the door before Polly could embarrass her with any suggestive comments.

The restaurant was only a few minutes' walk from the flat, but in a street she hadn't yet explored. It looked chic and upmarket, making Jane grateful she'd borrowed something nice instead of wearing a work dress. She glanced sideways at Marsh. He managed to look formal, yet relaxed at the same time.

He caught her looking at him and squeezed her hand.

Everything about the meal was perfect. The food, the wine, the candlelight. The conscious decision not to talk about work meant that they ended up talking about all manner of things: politics, art, the differences between London and Manchester. Jane was pleased to find that Marsh kept up with current affairs, something Ashby had never managed to do. Even better, she and Marsh agreed on a lot of things.

Jane liked the way his face lit up whenever he looked at her. She loved the way her appearance had struck him speechless; the way he listened to her opinion and considered it before replying
; the way her body responded to his kisses.

The more she spent time with Marsh, the more she realised how Ashby had used her. To him, she had been a pretty social decoration and not much else. With Marsh, she felt she had met an intellectual equal. Talking to him made her feel as though she were sparkling.

Before dessert, Jane went to the bathroom to touch up her make-up and check her phone. Predictably, there was a message from Polly.

* * *

Text from: Polly, To: Jane

You were right
, he IS gorgeous. And the dress works. That was EXACTLY the same expression Andy had when he first saw it. Have a great night. A little jealous.

* * *

Jane smiled to herself and turned off her phone. She checked her hair and twisted a few errant strands together so that they fell more neatly around her neck. She reapplied her
lip gloss.

The wine had given her a slight glow. Her eyes sparkled. She realised that she was the happiest she'd been in weeks. Contented. As though she'd finally come home.

* * *

Text from: Louise
, To: Marshall

Have a good time on your date and try not to worry about the partner's meeting. Don't do anything Jim wouldn't do!
x

##

Text from: Marshall, To: Louise

Since there isn't much Jim wouldn't do
… I’m sure I will have a good time, Lou. She's amazing. M.

* * *

When Jane returned to the table, Marsh was busy texting. She paused before sitting down and watched. He was frowning slightly and chewing his bottom lip in concentration. The candlelight cast soft shadows on his face and gave his hair golden highlights. He looked so handsome and gentle.

With Ashby she had felt merely sexy. With Marsh she felt adored.

Marsh looked up. His face broke into a smile and the dimple appeared. Without looking away, he turned his phone off and put it in his pocket. By the time Jane had slipped into her seat, she knew she had his full attention again.

‘
So, what do you want to do afterwards?’ she said, once dessert had arrived.

The look he gave her told her exactly what was on his
mind. Flustered, she looked down at her food.

‘
We can do anything you want.’ Marsh reached across the table and took her hand. ‘So long as it's not dancing. I can't dance.’

Jane laughed and met his eyes. At that moment, she knew she loved him.
Completely and utterly and without question. The realisation took her breath away. Hot on its heels came a wave of desire.

The gleam in his eyes told her he felt the same.

Ignoring the desserts on the table, Marsh summoned the waiter and signed the check. They retrieved their coats, moving with barely concealed impatience. When Marsh slipped her coat over her shoulders, his thumb brushed her cheek, sending a thrill down her spine.

She climbed the steps up to street level, feeling like she was walking on air. As they stepped out into the street, Marsh slipped his arm around her waist. He kissed her temple.
‘Right now,’ he whispered, his lips warm against her ear, ‘I'm the luckiest man in the world.’

Jane raised her face to his so their lips could meet.

Suddenly, there was a flash and the unmistakable sound of a camera shutter. Jane jumped back, her hand instinctively in front of her face. Marsh's grip seemed to tighten around her waist as he raised his free arm protectively.

The flash went off again, momentarily blinding her. In that instant, she felt as though she was back in Manchester, with photographers camping outside the flat, trying to get a candid shot of her or Ashby. It couldn't be happening again.

Surely they hadn't been stalking her. Perhaps they were just photographing the front of the restaurant. It was probably nothing to do with her.

A woman stuck a small recorder in front of her face.
‘Miss Porter, I'm Amber from
Cause Celeb
magazine …’

Jane turned and ran. Marsh followed.

So did the journalist.

‘
Miss Porter, can you confirm …’

‘
Go away.’ Tears blurred her vision. She could see Marsh keeping up with her whilst trying to flag down a taxi.

‘
Just a few questions. It'll only take a few minutes.’

The flash went off again.

Jane slowed and covered her face with her arm. Across the road, a taxi spotted them and started to turn round.

Marsh stepped between Jane and the journalist.
‘She said she doesn't want to talk to you. Leave her alone.’

‘
And who are you?’

‘
None of your business.’

The taxi drew up. Jane gratefully dived in.

‘Where to, mate?’ The taxi driver said, just as the photographer took another photo. He looked at them in his mirror. ‘Here, are you famous?’

‘
Just drive, please,’ said Marsh. He started to give Jane's address.

‘
Not there,’ said Jane. ‘I don't want them to know …’

Marsh gave her a quick glance and asked the driver to take them to Waterloo station.

They took another cab from Waterloo. Throughout the journey Jane said nothing. The sound of the camera shutter had reopened a flood of memories. Soon after she and Ashby split up, she had returned to their flat to retrieve some of her things, only to find that Ashby's conquest had already been to the tabloids with her story. A photographer had been waiting for Jane, and her tear-streaked face had appeared in a gossip magazine within days.

After that, everywhere she went, she felt hunted by people with cameras. Not just professionals, but kids who pointed their camera phones a
t her when she went past. For a brief time, she was almost as famous as Ashby.

She had fled to London and now it had followed her here. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she searched in her bag for a tissue. Marsh, who was still holding her hand, gave it a squeeze. Jane had forgotten he was there. Concern etched his face. He hadn't asked her any questions, merely been there for her, but she knew she would have to explain sooner or later. The thought of it brought fresh tears.

By the time they got back to Polly's building, Jane had stopped crying, but was still feeling fragile. She had started to explain to Marsh, but hadn't got very far. He put an arm round her waist as they took the lift up to Polly's flat. She gratefully put her head on his shoulder.

Rather than hunt through her clutch bag for her keys, Jane knocked. Polly opened the door. She took in Jane's face and looked suspiciously at Marsh.
‘What's going on?’ She moved aside to let them pass.

‘
We got accosted by a journalist,’ he said as he followed Jane in. He quickly sketched out what had happened outside the restaurant.

Jane kicked off her shoes and sank onto the sofa.

‘Oh, Jane,’ said Polly. ‘How dreadful for you!’

Marsh cleared his throat.
‘Why is it dreadful exactly?’ He perched on the arm of the sofa, his coat still on. ‘I understand it's got something to do with your ex, but …? Unless you don't want to talk about it, of course,’ he added quickly. ‘That's Ok.’

Polly discree
tly slipped off to the kitchen, leaving them alone.

Jane could tell he was dying to know. He had been so nice about
everything, she felt she owed him at least an explanation. She told him everything, about Ashby, about the other women, everything. Marsh listened, his hands clasped in front of him, his face serious.