Still Thinking Of You Part 13

'Do you regret not going for the full flouncy dress and 100 guests?' asked Rich.

'Oh, yeah, clearly I'm gutted that right now I'm not spellchecking 100 order of service sheets and rowing with my mother about canapes.'

'So, no regrets?'

'None, other than I wish more people could have joined us. I wish Emma hadn't broken her leg.'

'Yes, poor thing. But I bet you're glad that the gang came along after all, aren't you? Their company adds to the celebration, don't you think?'

Rich wasn't even sure he believed this as he said it. Yes, it was fantastic that his gang was here. He'd had a brilliant day in the snow and, on the whole, he'd enjoyed the dinnertime parler, it was great fun catching up. But if they hadn't been here, then Jayne wouldn't be here either, and he wished more than anything that Jayne wasn't here. She'd tried to play footsie with him throughout the meal. How pathetic was that? She was behaving like a floozie in a B-grade movie. At one point she'd slipped her foot out of her shoe and put her toes in his crotch. He'd nearly bit the bowl off his soup spoon. It wasn't funny. He pushed her to the back of his mind and thought about his other mates.

'They are great, aren't they?'

Tash paused. She'd have liked to have been able to smile and rea.s.sure him with an 'Absolutely' because that was clearly what Rich wanted and expected to hear, but she was conscious that it would be a lie. It would be the first lie she'd ever told Rich. She stayed silent, hoping that he wasn't really expecting an answer. For the first time she wondered if her absolute honesty policy was realistic. No secrets, no lies, just 100 per cent respect and honesty. What about tiny, little, feeling-saving white lies?

'You are glad they are here, aren't you?' repeated Rich.

Tash kissed him and said, 'I'm glad it's made you happy.' She busied herself with hunting for the flask of hot chocolate that the sleigh driver had thoughtfully supplied. She poured two large mugs, and handed one to Rich. Rich sipped the sweet, warm liquid. Fleetingly, Tash regretted that he wasn't a woman. If he were a woman, such delicious hot chocolate would wipe away all other concerns.

'Don't you like my friends?' he pursued.

'You have a chocolate moustache.' She moved to kiss it away, but Rich quickly rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth, depriving her of the pleasure.

'So why don't you like them?' Was she avoiding answering the question?

'I didn't say that.' She didn't have to. He knew her well enough to know that she was always verbose in her praise. Her silence spoke volumes. Eventually Tash said, 'I like Jason a lot. He's great fun. Shallow, but a laugh.'

'He's not shallow. He'd fall on his sword for me.'

'You don't get much call for that nowadays, though, do you?'

'You know what I mean.'

Tash conceded with a shrug. 'I'm sure he would. I meant with women. He's shallow with women. I have the impression he doesn't treat them particularly well.'

Rich stopped himself from pointing out that few men did. Until Tash, he hadn't treated women particularly well. He knew, however, that he wouldn't score any Brownie points by highlighting that fact. Before he'd met Tash, people his friends and family, and others used to describe his life as shallow, too; he liked to think of it as simple. He ate when he wanted, he slept when he wanted and with whom he wanted, he farted when he wanted. He told lies if he needed to and if he thought he could get away with it. He didn't tell lies if he had a chance of being caught out. He never overpromised, overcommitted or overexerted himself. He never promised women anything, not even breakfast. He was an extremely intelligent man who worked ruthlessly well in a ruthless world. He was happy with his uncomplicated life, where the only thing he ever felt was hot, cold or thirsty.

Tash. Tash changed everything. Suddenly he wanted that intimacy that everyone harped on about. Suddenly honesty and fidelity seemed like cool options. He didn't want to tell any lies, not even little white ones. But that meant he had to re-evaluate his life because, frankly, it wouldn't pa.s.s the Daz whiter-than-white challenge. He found himself ditching other birds. Jayne had been one of a number. He found himself turning down flirtatious suggestions and proposals. He found himself dating Tash exclusively. It wasn't that Tash demanded this of him, she just deserved it.

Rich no longer thought that the perfect Sat.u.r.day was a lazy morning asleep in bed, followed by an afternoon in front of the TV watching footie, and then going to pubs and clubs with his mates to pull anonymous girlies who gave good head. He no longer lingered in the office after hours because work was no longer the most important thing in his world. He didn't look forward to international travel that took him to sleek boardrooms and exotic lap-dancing clubs. Rich soon found that the perfect Sat.u.r.day was just hanging around with Tash. They went to the movies, ate out, ate in, and lazed in bed, and it made him so happy.

So happy.

All the stuff, all the stupid cliches, were true. Love did make you feel complete and important. It did drive meaning into a previously rather questionable existence. It did make you look at sticky kids and think (just for a fleeting second) 'one day'. It did make the birds suddenly appear. For f.u.c.k's sake.

Tash was so incredibly beautiful. Looking at her made many men's trousers twitch. It was only when Rich's heart began to tighten every time he laid eyes on her that he knew he was in trouble. She was thoughtful and thought-provoking. Sensual and sensible. Funny and so b.l.o.o.d.y serious.

'Ted is deep. He treats women well,' Rich observed.

'Yes,' agreed Tash. 'He seems very sweet, and I'm glad you told me that he's phenomenally intelligent because otherwise I'd have just thought he was phenomenally dull.'

'Tas.h.!.+'

Tash giggled. 'Ted and Kate are lovely people, I'm sure. We just haven't got that much in common. When I mentioned that my mum and dad had a Lowry on their dining-room wall, Ted a.s.sumed that I meant an original, not a print from Athena. The estate I came from was a sprawling housing estate; his estate has been in the family for generations. It just means we have different outlooks,' she shrugged. She wanted to make her point, but she didn't want to argue. She hoped Rich didn't want to either. 'I think Lloyd's very interesting. I'd like to get to know him better.'

Lloyd? Spend more time with Lloyd? Why? He was drunken and morose, not at all good company. He could be, Rich knew that, but he wasn't at the moment. What was she thinking of? As though Tash were reading his mind, she added, 'I know he's not too much fun at the moment, but '

'Mia is hilarious, though, isn't she,' interrupted Rich.

'Hilarious,' Tash deadpanned back.

'You don't like Mia?' asked Rich, amazed.

'No.' She could not dress it up. She could not find a redeeming feature.

'You don't like Mia?' repeated Rich, stunned.

'What is there to like?'

Rich sighed, admitting that it was a mystery but not a calamity that Tash didn't see eye to eye with all his buddies. She would. She'd grow to like them. Especially Mia. He was sure that one day Tash and Mia would be great friends. They'd swap recipes... Well, maybe not recipes, Tash didn't like cooking. They'd swap gossip.

Rich held Tash's face in his hands and stared into her eyes. They were the same big, blue smiling eyes that he had stared into for the best part of a year. There was no point in being upset that she hadn't become bosom buddies with his pals yet. As if reading his mind, she leant in and kissed him. They kissed for ages, but they were wearing too many clothes to consider anything other than kissing, and the driver's presence was not entirely forgotten. They finally stopped kissing and allowed themselves to be swallowed up by the splendour of the vista once again.

'I feel like a teenager,' whispered Rich. 'I'd have loved to be your teenage boyfriend. I'd have loved to have spent hours in your bedroom, listening to Duran Duran and trying to persuade you to take your clothes off.'

'You would have been sadly disappointed. I was very prudish,' laughed Tash.

'You wouldn't have been if you'd met me,' he a.s.sured her. 'I'd have unlocked your chast.i.ty belt.'

'Possibly, I feel like a teenager. When I'm with you my hormones go into battle with my common sense on a regular basis. That's why I've often been late for work recently.' It was true that there wasn't really ever enough time for a quickie, but there was also never a possibility that Tash would turn down Rich.

'Tash, it doesn't matter, does it? Not really.'

'What doesn't matter?'

'If you don't instantly adore my friends. It doesn't mean anything insurmountable, does it?' Rich was at once stating his belief and at the same time looking for confirmation. He felt nervous. It was Jayne, b.l.o.o.d.y Jayne. She was blurring his vision. Not allowing him to think clearly. Was it important? Tash grinned and hugged him.

'Not at all. I like you. Most of the time except when you leave the loo seat up or put an empty milk carton back in the fridge,' she joked. Clearly, she was trying to keep the conversation light. 'I like Jayne. I'm glad she joined us. I'm glad you spent the afternoon with her. Did you get the chance to get to know her a bit?'

'No. Not really. We just boarded. We didn't talk much. Do you think these seats are hard?' Rich s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably.

'You should try to get to know her. You two have loads in common. She's a Man City supporter, too.'

'That's b.l.o.o.d.y ridiculous. She and Ted were born in Suffolk. I bet she's got City mixed up with United and is a faux football fan. She probably just fancies Beckham. I hate women who pretend to like football.'

Tash laughed. 'You might have been born in Manchester City, but you only lived there until you were three.'

'It counts,' said Rich huffily.

'She drinks Glenmorangie Black.'

'Millions of people do.'

'Her favourite city is New York, like ours.'

'Everybody loves New York.'

'She blades and boards, not to mention the fact that you work in the same building. Haven't you ever come across her?'

'Once or twice.'

'And, this is the funniest coincidence, she likes to listen to Nina Simone when she's making love, too.'

Rich froze. 'How do you know that?' Female intimacy scared Rich. Girls swapped their life histories and secrets as easily as blokes shared football results.

'She told me when we were at the airport.'

The airport. Christ, what else would Jayne reveal by the time the week was up?

'I think I might ask her to be a witness at the wedding. You know, sign the paperwork. She is a girl I can get on with.' The temperatures were subzero, it was possible to see your breath dance in front of your mouth when you spoke, but until Tash had said this Rich hadn't felt the cold. Now he was sure icicles were hanging from his nose. She continued, 'She's very kind and principled, and yet she has a wicked sense of humour. She seems really spirited, great fun.'

Rich felt his intestines liquefy. How could Tash have got it so wrong? Kate was the kind, principled one. Mia was the fun, spirited one. Jayne was the good-f.u.c.k, mind-f.u.c.k. It was a horrible thought: Jayne witness at his wedding. What if she decided to interrupt the service? She could choose that moment to confess all her sins. More to the point all his. Why hadn't he ever mentioned Jayne? Why hadn't he included her in his stories? It wasn't as though Tash was shockable. Far from it. Christ, she'd taught him a trick or two; he'd admit it. And Jayne didn't mean any more or less to him than the other women he'd slept with. Jayne didn't mean anything. She'd never meant anything. Why hadn't he mentioned her? Rich knew that he had to tell Tash about his past with Jayne, before Jayne did. He could just drop it into conversation now.

Right now.

He could just casually say something like, 'No way, not since I've slept with her; that would be weird.' And then Tash would say, 'I didn't know you'd slept with Jayne.' And he could say, 'Didn't I mention it? Well, it was years ago, when she was still at school. I'm sure I mentioned it.' He wouldn't have to tell her that they'd had casual s.e.x secretly for nearly a decade. He would have defused Jayne's bomb. He'd be safe. They'd be safe.

He'd tell her.

Sure, she would be a bit huffy. She'd probably sulk for a bit. Maybe all night, but he'd talk her round. She'd always said that she didn't care what he'd got up to, or whom he'd got up, as long as he was honest about it. It wasn't as though he'd slept with Jayne since he'd met Tash. He'd only seen her once and that was to call it a day. The meeting had been entirely platonic, despite Jayne's pleas for it to be otherwise. He'd tried to do the right thing at the end.

But what if he confessed and Tash didn't get over it? What if she was really angry and she called the wedding off? What if she became unreasonably jealous of Jayne and was inconsolably angry at him for keeping a secret from her? He came back to the crucial point, what if she called the wedding off? He could not bear that.

He could not risk it. He couldn't face it. Tash had such an unwavering belief in him. She was always going on about how important honesty is. She dealt honestly with everyone she met, but she took the gamble that her straightforward approach would not always be met with the same respect. But from him she demanded honesty. And he wanted to give it to her; it just seemed impossible now. Tash trusted Jayne. They'd become friends and swapped intimacies. Tash would feel a fool if Rich gave her the whole lowdown. It was too late now.

Rich took a deep breath and tried to tell himself everything was OK. They were a party of eight. There were 153 kilometres of piste in Avoriaz alone. Not to mention the other Portes. He could avoid Jayne. Yes, that was best. He'd try to minimize all contact with her and, if he could, he'd steer Tash away from her, too.

Today was almost over, tomorrow was Monday. On Friday, they'd be married. He could avoid Jayne for five days.

He'd often heard women accuse men of being emotional cowards. He thought it was a shame that they were right about this, when they were so wrong about many other things.

'I'm getting cold. Let's get back to the hotel,' said Rich, and he kissed Tash's nose.

He loved her cute nose. He'd started and ended his day loving her. That had to be enough, didn't it?

30. Not Tonight, Darling.

'I called home,' said Kate. She was sitting at the dressing table ma.s.saging moisturizer into her skin. She made exaggerated, upward, time-and gravity-defying strokes.

'Good,' replied Ted. He was sitting on the side of the bed. He was trying to take his snow boots off. But his feet seemed a long way down, and he wasn't sure if he could bend that far. How much had he had to drink at dinner?

'The children are all fine.'

'Good.'

'Fleur has been practising.'

'Good.'

'Mum had to take Tiger to the vet's.'

'Good.'

'Ted, are you listening to me?'

'Yes, yes, of course I am.'

'Tiger got into a fight with another tomcat and needed to go to the vet's.'

'Serious?'

'I don't think so. He needed antibiotics and has to be kept indoors. Poor Mum, having to keep three children and Tiger indoors.'

'How much?'

'How much what?'

'How much was the vet's bill?'

'I have no idea. Mum did say. I can't remember. One hundred and eighty? Two hundred and eighty? I can't remember.'

Ted sighed. b.l.o.o.d.y cat. They should never have bought a pedigree. They were bad-tempered with an overinflated a.s.sessment of their own hardiness. Tiger was always getting into spats with tougher moggies. They should have gone to the RSPCA and picked something up there. And now another vet's bill.

Kate slipped into her pyjamas and dashed to hide under the duvet. It was cold and, besides, she'd eaten four large meals today. She wasn't sure that she could convince herself that huge overhang was water retention. She sat up in bed and reached for her hand cream. She always applied hand cream last thing at night. She always meant to apply it every time she washed her hands, as the magazines advised, but, despite having hand cream in every bathroom and next to every sink in the house, she never got around to it. She ma.s.saged the cream with swift, efficient strokes, then picked up her novel. It was the latest hyped faux lit, she felt she had to.

Kate watched Ted undress. His movements contrasted with hers. Where she was efficient, breezy and purposeful, he was languid, lazy and lethargic. Kate scowled. Was it just that he'd wound down faster than she had? Was he already in the holiday mood, relaxed and ready to be recharged? Maybe. Kate wanted to think so. But there was something about Ted's movements that suggested depressed, rather than de-stressed.

'Isn't it fantastic to see the old gang again?' Kate commented. 'n.o.body has changed, have they?'

'Don't you think so?'

'Not at all. I thought dinner was just like old times. Everyone was on top form. I love the constant banter, the chat. What would Jason call it? The vibe.'

'Yes, everybody does seem very jolly,' agreed Ted. He hadn't really been able to follow the banter at dinner. He was stumped. He couldn't think of any clever stories or witty comebacks. That had always really been Jason and Rich's field.