28. Carly
Chapter 28
Carly
W hat the hell am I doing? I’m lying, half-naked, with the man of my dreams snogging my face off, and I just know it’s not right. You know how that happens sometimes? When you’ve waited forever for something, and built it up in your head, and then when you suddenly get it, you realise it’s not really what you expected, not what you wanted at all?
I roll away, as best I can when he’s half on top of me, and plonk a hand over each nipple. Not that he hasn’t already seen me in all my glory, or had a good feel of them, but this isn’t a conversation I can have with my bare chest on full display.
‘No, Jack.’
‘No?’ He sits up. ‘But I thought you wanted…’
‘So did I.’
‘If it’s being careful you’re worrying about… Condoms…’
‘No, it’s nothing to do with condoms. I just can’t do it. We can’t do it.’
‘Speak for yourself. I most certainly can.’ He lowers his gaze to his open trousers and the prominent bulge that just seconds ago was pushing urgently against my thigh. I get a glimpse of his underwear, bright red with some kind of superhero design that, in any other circumstances, would have had me in fits of giggles or recoiling in mock horror. Mr Darcy emerging from the lake he most certainly is not.
‘We were meant to be talking, remember? And eating. And sorting things out once and for all.’ I’m desperately trying to cover everything up and willing Jack to do the same. ‘Not having sex.’
‘Right. Okay.’ He says it but I’m not sure he means it.
‘Please, Jack. I don’t sleep with married men. I told you that before. Not even when that married man is you. I have wanted you, so badly, but I’ve been blind to a lot of things, things we really can’t change, so it has to stop here, right now. I’ll get over it, I have to, and this… this is not happening. I can’t let it.’
‘But Mol…’ He’s said it automatically, without thinking, started to call me by her name. And that’s when I know I’ve done exactly the right thing in stopping this right now. ‘Oh, God, Carly, I’m so sorry. It’s just habit. A slip of the tongue. Forgive me.’
I sit on the edge of the bed, my back turned towards him so he can’t see my face, or my boobs. I lean down and rescue my book, smoothing its cover and checking it’s not damaged in any way. It’s a new edition of Persuasion that I’ve only just started to read, leather-bound in red and gold, and suddenly making sure it has survived seems to be all I can focus on, the only thing that matters.
‘Nothing to forgive,’ I force myself to say. ‘She’s your wife, and I’m not. Simple as that. I’m sure it’s her name that always comes out of your mouth when you’re in a… situation like this. Now, we can go back into the kitchen and eat that pasta, like civilised people, old friends sharing a meal and a glass of wine, or you can go home now. Either way, none of this ever happens again, and we don’t talk about it again either, okay? And Molly never has to know. We’re done. Finished. It’s best for all three of us, I know it is, believe me.’ I manage to find my top, lying in a heap on the carpet, and pull it back on, keeping my back towards him, not bothering to locate my bra and have to fiddle about with the hooks while he’s watching me.
‘If you say so. If a woman says no, she means no. I am aware of that, and I respect that, but are you sure? We could be really good together. We fit, don’t we?’ He looks up at me with his big brown puppy eyes and I so want to back down, to whip off all of my clothes again and lie back down on the bed and let myself melt into him, but it’s too late for that now. I’m letting him go. I have to.
It’s dark outside but the street lights are on. I lift the curtain and watch Jack walk away down the street.
‘You okay, Carls?’ Fran stands behind me and rests a hand on my shoulder.
‘I will be. Nothing a bottle of wine won’t put right.’ I’m not sure that’s quite true but I’m not about to spill all to Fran, and wine always helps, doesn’t it?
‘Fancy a chocolate as well? I’ve got a whole box of truffles unopened. The good Belgian ones. I’m happy to share.’
‘Do you know, I think I do. I’ve gone off the idea of that pasta now. Let’s pig out on whatever we fancy tonight, all the stuff that’s bad for us, and hang the consequences.’
‘I tend to live my whole life that way.’ Fran sighs and pulls me into a big blubbery cuddle.
I lower the curtain and turn away from the window.
‘So that was the famous Jack?’ she says, shoving the ironing board back into a cupboard and ripping the cellophane off the chocolates. ‘Not quite as handsome as you and Suze have had me believe.’
‘Really? Are you blind?’
‘No.’ She laughs. ‘Just gay!’ It’s the first time she has openly admitted it, to me anyway, and I feel kind of flattered that she’s able to say it. Maybe it’s a night for confessions all round. ‘So, he’s not my type, obviously. I take it things didn’t go well. In the bedroom, I mean. A bit of a flop, was he?’
‘Fran!’ I giggle. ‘No, everything seemed in good working order. Just a change of heart, on my part. A last-minute one, but let’s just say I came to my senses, just in time.’
‘Good. Affairs with married men rarely work out. Especially ones with kids. And you’re better than that, Carls. In fact, if you weren’t quite so straight, I’d make a play for you myself.’
I am about to laugh again, but something in her face tells me she just might mean it.
‘Now, where’s that wine you mentioned?’
‘In the fridge. Jack bought it. Maybe I should take it and give it back to him, at work?’
‘And the flowers?’ She must have spotted them in the kitchen, propped up in an old milk bottle because I was too busy cooking and kissing and making a fool of myself to have bothered finding a vase. ‘Don’t be daft. Gifts are like engagement rings. Men give them, with expectations, or from guilt or whatever but, whatever the outcome, women are not obliged to give them back. That wine is officially yours. Well, ours now. I’ll get the corkscrew.’
‘No need. It’s a screw-top bottle.’
‘Either way, it looks like the only kind of screw either of us is going to get this evening.’ Fran gives me a cheeky wink, and goes off to get the wine.
The rest of the evening rolls by on a glut of sugar and booze and some old cheesy rom-com film we discover on a TV channel we don’t usually watch.
‘Syd’s invited me to a party,’ I say, suddenly remembering the chat we’d had outside as the driving lesson came to an end.
‘From one married man to another,’ Fran mutters, shaking her head.
‘Absolutely not! Syd is great, just the sort of man I wish I could bag for myself, but he belongs fairly and squarely to Rosie. No, they’re having a bit of a do. Partly to take the place of a christening for the twins, as neither of them has set foot in a church for years and they just want a family gathering without all the religious side of it, and partly to welcome Syd’s parents and brother who are coming over from Australia for the first time since the wedding. Rosie did mention it the last time I saw her but they’ve picked a firm date for it now. He said I could bring a mate if I want to, as I don’t have a proper plus-one. The cheek of it! I don’t suppose you fancy coming, do you? I’m pretty sure Suze will be there. And he’s bound to have asked Jack, so I could do with all the moral support I can get.’
‘Will he bring his wife, do you think? Jack, I mean.’
‘If he’s got any sense, he’ll be trying to keep the two of us apart, and it’s not as if they know her. Jack worked with Syd years ago and they’ve had the odd beer together since Jack’s been back, but that’s all.’
‘Plus-ones are invited though, remember?’
‘True. But I’m sure he can get away without bringing her. He doesn’t even have to tell her, does he? Having us both in the same room would be asking for trouble. He’s not that stupid. In fact, he may not even go himself.’
‘I could come with you, I suppose. I’ll have to check my busy diary, of course.’ Fran laughs. ‘But you never know, I could get lucky. There might be some tasty unattached women there. Apart from you, I mean.’
I reach over and flick at her with a cushion.
‘Yes, of course I’ll come,’ she says. ‘Beats sitting in, drooling over Julia Roberts and stuffing myself with yet more chocolates, doesn’t it? It’s time I got out more. And it’s a sort of christening, so if there are no women, at least there’ll probably be cake.’
Suze drags it out of me, just as she always does. There is something about being together in the confines of the small staff kitchen that always brings out the latest gossip. It’s not unusual to go in there and find someone in tears or whispering their secrets to a friend and clamming up the moment they realise they’ve been rumbled.
‘And you definitely mean it? No more Jack Doherty?’ Suze has stopped with the kettle held in mid-air and is peering into my face, looking for clues.
‘Apart from at work, yes. I do mean it. One hundred per cent.’
‘Thank God for that. It’s been wearing me out, trying to keep the two of you apart. But I was only doing it for your own good, you do know that?’
‘Yes, Suze. And because you love a bit of scandal and can’t bear not knowing every last detail of everyone else’s so-called love lives!’ She hands me a mug of coffee and we wander back to our desks. ‘What’s the latest with Sean, by the way? It’s time I turned the tables and interrogated you for a change.’
‘Well, actually, I do have some news on that front.’
I don’t know how I missed it as soon as she held that kettle up in front of my face. There’s only a great big sparkling diamond on her finger!
‘Oh my God!’
‘Yep. He asked me last night. Bended knee, ring in a red velvet box, the works…’
‘And you said yes? Are you sure about this?’
‘Of course I said yes. He’s single, he loves me and, unlike some I could mention, he doesn’t have a pregnant wife lurking at home. He’s a catch, Carly. And I’m the one who’s caught him.’
‘And the other-woman incident?’
‘All a misunderstanding. It was just some old school friend he happened to have bumped into. A hug hello and a chat about old times. It was nothing. Water under the bridge, and long forgotten.’
‘Well, congratulations. Wow! What a surprise.’
‘Drinks at lunchtime? Celebrate properly?’
‘Of course. Have you set a date yet?’
‘Early days, Carly. Give me time to get used to the whole thing first, but I thought maybe next spring? I like the idea of blossom on the trees and a bouquet of white tulips. Bridesmaids in something all pale pink and lacy.’
‘So, you have thought about it then?’
‘Well, what girl hasn’t planned her own wedding by the time we get to our age? I knew exactly the kind of dress I wanted and where I’d like the venue to be long before Sean came along. And now he has, he’s the last piece to slot into the puzzle. My fantasy groom finally has a face. Don’t tell me you haven’t done the same?’
I sort of half nod, because I don’t want to admit that I really, really haven’t.