Give Me Tomorrow Part 5

'So I expect you live in a stately home in Surrey or somewhere.'

'No.' He shook his head. 'Part of the legacy was my uncle's apartment in Stanmore. It was nicely furnished and equipped so I just moved in there. It's quite handy for the Tube. I can get up to the West End in half an hour.' He took a sip of his drink.

I studied him over the rim of my gla.s.s. 'So now that you're in the money, why on earth are you still bothering to work?'

He gave me a whimsical smile. 'This business gets under your skin. You know; the sound of the greasepaint, the smell of the crowd! I know I'll never have my name up in lights. I'm not very good. I've always known that, but the whole thing atmosphere, excitement it's very seductive.' He smiled wryly. 'Being offered the part in this show has been a huge break-through for me.' He smiled. 'The West End, eh? I only hope I can hack it. I'm sure you remember my flair for fluffing lines.'

I laughed. 'I remember your genius for ad-libbing. More than once you were the cause of sheer chaos. By the way, what did you think of the rest of the cast?'

He grinned. 'Bit of a motley crew. Your Darcy's not bad-looking, though I'd swear he's wearing a wig. n.o.body's hair is that perfect; either that or he spends a fortune on hairdressing.' He glanced at me. 'Speaking of which, have you been asked to put cash into this show?' When I nodded he asked, 'So how did you come by the necessary readies?'

'My dad died and left me the family home.'

'Wow!' His eyebrows rose. 'That must have been a blow to the rest of the family.'

'Oh, they're all right,' I told him airily. 'My sister is married to a guy with a fabulous job and Dad left my stepmother enough to keep her comfortable. They were fine about it.'

'Good! So you and I are in the money at last? A far cry from those hard-up drama-school days.'

'You could say that.'

As our food arrived, I took in Mark's appearance again. He'd changed quite a bit. The old Mark with his sense of fun and his flamboyant manner was just the same, but the brown hair that had once straggled down to his shoulders was now cut in a crisp, short style and frosted at the temples in the very best romantic novel fas.h.i.+on. His wiry, stick-thin body had broadened into quite a presentable physique and the few lines on his face actually improved his looks. He turned and smiled at me as the waiter walked away.

'Well, this looks pretty good to me. I'm starving.' He picked up his napkin and tucked it under his chin.

Yes, he's certainly improved with age, I told myself. Not to mention the fact that he'd come into money too. Maybe it was fate, our meeting up again.

'Where do you live?' he asked.

'Earl's Court. A little flat I keep for when I'm up in town,' I told him glibly.

'Right, so will you be staying there for Christmas?'

I shook my head. 'Oh, no. I expect I'll be going home. I've had several invitations but you know how it is; Christmas is the time for families, isn't it? They'd be so disappointed if I cried off, especially Peter, my little nephew.'

He looked wistful. 'I see. You're so lucky. Unfortunately both my folks died a few years ago within weeks of one another. And my sister lives in Australia, so for me it'll just be a solitary frozen dinner-for-one and The Great Escape on the telly.'

'Why don't you book into a hotel?' I asked, wis.h.i.+ng I hadn't been quite so quick off the mark with the self-boosting lies.

He shook his head. 'I tried that once but the place was full of sad, lonely b.a.s.t.a.r.ds like me; very depressing.' His eyes brightened into the warm smile I remembered so well. 'The best Christmas present I could have had is meeting you again,' he said, squeezing my hand.

As we parted on the pavement outside, we exchanged mobile numbers.

'See you when we start rehearsals,' Mark said. 'Take care and have a lovely time with your folks.'

I watched wistfully as he walked off down the street towards the Underground station. Why did I have to come out with all those b.l.o.o.d.y lies? I asked myself. If we were going to be seeing a lot of each other, the truth was bound to come out sooner or later, and I was going to have to think up a lot more fibs to cover myself. They rolled off my tongue without my even thinking. It was a defence method I'd learned as a child getting mercilessly bullied at school, and somehow it had become a habit I couldn't shake off. I never even stopped to think about the consequences even fleetingly believing in my own fantasies at times. It had landed me in trouble more than once in the past. As I turned towards the bus stop, I mentally kicked myself.

'Why is it you never learn, you silly cow?' I muttered.

It really had been lovely meeting Mark again. No one except my dad had ever really loved me as he had and I'd chucked it back in his face. I'd been rotten to him back in our student days but he obviously held no grudges. As I boarded the bus, I resolved to make it up to him in the months that followed.

'I take it you're going home for Christmas?' Dianne asked as we prepared the evening meal together later. She hadn't even asked me about the read-through when she got in from work and I was feeling a bit miffed; too proud to bring it up myself. The only thing that seemed to concern her was that I'd remembered to do some shopping on my way home. I thought she'd have thanked me but she just seemed to take it for granted.

She glanced at me. 'Are you, then going home, I mean?'

'I haven't actually been invited,' I replied. 'I had a text from Karrie to say that they've got this Dutch au pair living with them so that's obviously a hint that there won't be room for me.'

'Can't you stay with your stepmother?'

I shrugged. 'Her sofa isn't exactly what you'd call comfy. It's only a two-seater and lumpy with it. Anyway, I expect she'll be going to Karrie and Simon's for the day.'

'You could go too. And the sofa can't be all that bad just for a few days.'

I looked at her. 'I thought you and I would be spending Christmas together,' I confessed. 'I was quite looking forward to it and I don't want to push in where I'm not really wanted.'

She looked uncomfortable, her head bent over the potatoes she was peeling. 'The thing is, Lou, my parents really want me to go home. My brother is getting engaged and they're planning a party on Boxing Day.'

'Oh, well you must go of course. I'll be OK here on my own.' Privately, I thought she might have suggested taking me along too.

Dianne frowned. 'I'm not allowed to sublet the flat, Lou,' she said.

I laughed. 'Sublet? I'll only be staying here for a few days on my own, surely that doesn't const.i.tute subletting?'

She dropped the potatoes into a saucepan of water and lit the gas under it, turning to me with a determined expression. 'To be brutally honest, Lou, I'd rather not leave you in the flat on your own.'

'Why not? I'll be OK.'

'Oh, I'm sure you would be, but to be frank, you're not the tidiest of house guests. Take today, for instance. I came home from a hard day at work to find your breakfast was.h.i.+ng-up still in the sink, including a burnt porridge saucepan, and I found several pairs of your tights stuffed down the back of the settee when I was vacuuming the other day. You never even think of taking your turn with the cleaning and you leave wet towels all over the bathroom floor. If you're here for a week on your own, I dread to think what state the flat will be in when I get home.'

'Speak your mind, why don't you?' I sniped. I stared at her. 'Anyway, since when have you been so house-proud?'

'I'm not ...'

'You sound positively paranoid to me!'

'I do like some kind of order.'

'OK, I'll get out of your hair,' I told her. 'As a matter of fact, I turned down an invitation just today because I didn't want to disappoint you.'

She looked slightly relieved. 'Well, maybe it isn't too late to change your mind.'

I turned to walk out of the kitchen. 'Well, we'll just have to keep our fingers crossed, won't we? Otherwise it looks as if I'll be spending Christmas in a cardboard box!'

I waited until Dianne had left for work the following morning, then I got my phone out and clicked on Mark's number. He sounded sleepy when he answered.

'Who the h.e.l.l is this ringing me in the middle of the night?'

'It's me Lou,' I told him, laughing. 'And as a matter of fact, it's half past eight.'

'Like I said the middle of the night.' He cleared his throat. 'Only joking, Lou. It's good to hear from you any time. What can I do for you?'

'It's more what I can do for you,' I told him. 'How would you like me to come and cook you a traditional slap-up Christmas dinner in your own home?'

I could almost hear him blinking. 'Sorry, it's a bit early for riddles,' he said. 'I could have sworn you offered to cook me Christmas dinner in my own home. You did say you were Lou Davies, didn't you not meals on wheels?'

I laughed. 'No, it's me all right and it's Louise Delmar, cloth-ears! I'll explain I had a call from my stepmum last night; they're all off to Sweden for a Scandinavian Christmas. Of course, they wanted me to join them but I don't fancy it. My flatmate is off home so I thought why don't Mark and I team up? It could be fun.'

'That would be great, Lou!' He sounded fully awake now. 'A home-cooked Christmas dinner plus your company! How lucky could I get?' There was a pause then he said, 'Flatmate? You never said you had a flatmate.'

I bit my lip hard and forced a laugh. 'Didn't I? Well, it's only a recent arrangement. She had nowhere to go so I offered her a room.' Suddenly I remembered that he knew Di from our time at drama school, but I decided not to mention that.

'Right.' He lowered his voice. 'Hey I hope you're a good cook.'

'The best,' I lied, crossing my fingers and thanking G.o.d for Aunt Bessie.

Chapter Seven.

'You're not going to let her cook the Christmas dinner, I hope.'

Simon tutted irritably as he straightened the bottom sheet and punched his pillow into shape. 'Look at this. She doesn't even know how to make a bed properly!'

'Oh, stop finding fault with the poor girl. You haven't stopped since she arrived.' Karen slapped cleansing cream onto her face and whipped a tissue out of the box on the dressing table. 'She's an absolute treasure with Peter. He adores her. She's so patient and creative with him.'

'So she might be but you can't say the same about her cooking. It's abysmal,' Simon complained. 'Tasteless stodge in watery gravy.'

'Shhh! Keep your voice down. She'll hear you.'

'That's another thing,' he hissed. 'The only place we can actually have a private conversation is in bed and even then it has to be conducted in whispers. And as for doing anything else in bed ...'

'Simon! Keep it down, for G.o.d's sake.' She turned to him. 'Look, if I keep working we'll be able to afford a bigger house in a couple of years. Surely it's worth a few sacrifices.'

'That's a matter of opinion. And I thought you said she spoke fluent English.'

'She does.'

'When we're around, yes, but when she's on her own with Peter she obviously speaks to him in Dutch. When I spoke to him the other day he came out with a mouthful of it and when I asked her about it, she said it was a nursery rhyme. I was horrified. It's coming to something when I can't even understand what my own son is saying.'

'Isn't it an a.s.set for him to be growing up bilingual?'

'If it was German or French, yes, but where or when is he going to need Dutch?'

'You never know.' Karen drew back the duvet and climbed into bed. 'Why can't you think about all the advantages of having Adrey with us? You have to admit that the house is spotless and your s.h.i.+rts are beautifully ironed.' She turned to look at his unconvinced face and decided to play her trump card. 'Best of all, Louise won't be joining us this Christmas because we simply haven't a spare room any more.'

'Well, that is a plus, I suppose,' he said grudgingly.

'And aren't you pleased that I'm not so tired these days?' She reached across to kiss him and her hand crept under the waistband of his pyjamas. 'In fact I'm feeling really s.e.xy tonight.'

He grasped her hand and firmly removed it. 'Well I'm not. How do you expect me to work up any enthusiasm when there's just a thin part.i.tion between us and her?'

'She's probably asleep. Anyway, we don't go in for all that noisy stuff.'

He turned his back to her and switched off his bedside lamp pointedly. 'I told you, I can't work up any enthusiasm and if I can't well, surely I don't have to draw you a picture?'

'There's no need to be crude.'

'Just go to sleep, Karen, or you'll look like nothing on earth in the morning.'

Deeply hurt, she switched off her own lamp and turned over, a lump in her throat. Presently, a large tear slid down her cheek and she brushed it away with a corner of the duvet. After a few minutes she felt Simon turn towards her.

'I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean that,' he said quietly. When she made no reply he reached out a hand to rest on her waist. 'I've got such a lot of stress at school as you know, what with the coming festivities and everything. I know how hard you work too and I do appreciate it.' The hand crept up to cup her breast. 'Know what?' he whispered in her ear. 'I think I can hear Adrey snoring.'

Karen couldn't conceal the chuckle that rose in her throat. Taking his hand she moved it slowly down her body and lifted her face for his kiss.

Chapter Eight.

Susan said goodnight to the rest of the group as they left the cla.s.sroom in twos and threes and began to put on her coat. It was the second meeting of the Green Fingers Club she had attended and the last before Christmas. She was sorry. She had enjoyed the meetings so much. The other members were pleasant company and she had learned a lot from Ted's expertise. Her only regret was not having a garden of her own on which to practise some of the new skills and tips that she had scribbled down in her notebook.

'Can I give you a lift home, Susan?' Ted stood at her side, winding a scarf round his neck. 'It's freezing outside tonight.'

She smiled up at him. 'Thank you. That would be lovely.'

They walked along the corridor together and out into the frosty night air. As they walked across the car park he turned to her.

'I don't suppose I'll see you again until after Christmas, so would you like to come for a festive drink with me?' His brow furrowed. 'Or perhaps you don't drink and you'd prefer a coffee?'

Susan laughed. 'I do drink moderately of course, but either would be nice. Thank you.'

They opted for the Coach and Horses, a comfortable pub almost next door to the college. Inside the lounge bar it was warm and comfortable, tasteful evergreens decorated the walls and there were red candles on every table. They chose a table near the log fire and Ted went to the bar for drinks, a pint of bitter for him and a gin and tonic for Susan. 'I got you ice and a slice,' he said as he joined her at the table. 'I hope that's all right.'

'Lovely. Thank you.' She raised her gla.s.s. 'Here's to a happy Christmas.'

Putting his gla.s.s down, he looked at her. 'So do you think you'll be joining us next term, or did you find it unutterably boring?'

'Oh, no!' Susan said quickly. 'I mean about it being boring. I was fascinated. It was so interesting. And yes to your first question; I'd love to sign up next term. My only complaint is that it's going to be so frustrating, not being able to try out all your useful tips and advice.'

He leaned towards her. 'I've been thinking about that,' he told her. 'My garden is quite small. Only really big enough for a lawn and a few flower beds, so I grow my own vegetables on an allotment. The chap next to me is giving his up in the New Year. How would you feel about applying to the Council to rent it?'