‘Come on,’ I urge. ‘It will do us good.’
‘Red wine is good for you,’ Charlie protests.
‘Not in the quantities you drink.’ I stand and button up my coat. ‘You’ll love it when we get going.’
So Charlie hauls herself out of her chair and I link my arm through hers and steer her towards the woods.
‘Shouldn’t we borrow a dog or something?’ she says. ‘We’ll look stupid going for a walk without one.’
I love this place. It’s a little pocket of solitude in the busy city. There’s a pond as you leave the café filled with a mass of tadpoles at this time of the year. By the side of it there’s a brass sculpture of a band made up of frog characters that always makes me smile.
The sun filters through the fresh green leaves, recently uncurled. The ground beneath us is soft and spongy with bark. As we turn along the path, we’re greeted by a carpet of bluebells spread out ahead of us, threading through the trees as far as the eye can see.
‘Nice,’ Charlie says with an appreciative purse of the lips.
I nudge against her. ‘Glad I dragged you in here now?’
‘Yes, it’s been totally brilliant.’ Said in the manner of someone who didn’t think it was brilliant at all. She rubs her hands together. ‘Now can we go back to the café and have celebratory cake?’
I laugh. ‘Of course. You must be quite dizzy with all this fresh air.’ So we take a few snaps of the bluebells with our phones and turn to take a different route back to the café so that I can stretch out the walk for a little bit longer.
‘I know you’re hiding something from me,’ Charlie says conversationally. ‘I just haven’t worked out what yet.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘You do,’ Charlie insists. ‘I’m like Hercule flipping Poirot. I will find out, so you might as well fess up and save me the trouble. I know it’s to do with Shagger. I’ve deduced that much.’
I sigh and don’t turn to look at her as I spill the beans. ‘I’m going to Paris with him,’ I spit out. ‘This weekend.’
‘You muppet,’ she mutters darkly. ‘You right bloody muppet.’
‘He’s nice,’ I say, defensively. ‘We have a laugh when we’re together. Besides, how many men have ever offered to take you to Paris? I was flattered.’
‘I don’t want to rain on your parade, but you’d better put your umbrella up, chummie.’ Charlie fixes me with knowing eyes. ‘There’s no easy way to break this, but this is Shagger’s standard play. He’s already taken about half a dozen of the waitresses to Paris. Research for a new restaurant chain, romantic Paris, it would be so much better with you at my side.’
Yikes. That stings.
‘Yada, yada, yada.’ Charlie frowns at me. ‘I take it you didn’t know that?’
‘No,’ I admit. ‘I didn’t.’
‘That’s how he got his nickname.’
‘Now I feel foolish.’
‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
She says it in a teasing voice, but I know deep down that she really means it. This would be on my own head. We walk along a bit more. ‘Do you think I should cancel?’
‘I’ve no idea, Ruby. That’s up to you. I’m simply trying to tell you what he’s like. You’re too nice for him. I don’t want to see him treat you the way he does most women.’
I let out a wavering breath. ‘I’m not sure that I can back out now. He’s bought the tickets. That was him texting me earlier. It might make things awkward at work.’
‘Another very good reason for not shagging the boss.’
‘Point taken.’ We walk a few more steps. ‘Did he ever ask you to go to Paris?’
‘Of course he did. He asks everyone.’
‘And you said no?’
‘Yeah. I’m not that desperate.’
My friend gets a dark glare for that. ‘Thanks, Charlie.’
She sounds exasperated rather than penitent when she says, ‘You know what I mean. I’m only trying to explain to you what you’re getting in to. Go to Paris, shag him senseless if you want to, but please tell me that you’ll keep him at arm’s length. He’s a player. A charming one, I give you that – but a player, nonetheless. This can only end badly and it won’t be Shagger Soames who comes out worst.’
My heart feels as if it’s dropped to my Converse.
Charlie puts her arm round me. ‘He’s supposed to be very good in the sack, if that’s any consolation.’
‘I think it makes me even more terrified.’
‘I’m sorry if I’ve scared you, Ruby, but I am doing my best to protect you.’
‘From myself?’
Charlie laughs. ‘That too. What you need is a man like Gary Barlow. He’d never let you down.’
She’s probably right. How could I have been so stupid to fall for Mason’s chat-up lines? Am I really that desperate? Will I be the butt of all the jokes at work? Serves me right if I am. It looks as if I’m going to be just another notch on my boss’s bedpost as Charlie warned me. I should have listened to her. So much for me being this sexually liberated femme fatale. Now I feel like a complete twonk.
I turn to her and pout. ‘I need that cake now.’
‘My treat,’ Charlie says, trying to cheer me up. ‘I’m sorry that I’m not deliriously happy for you, but I don’t want us to fall out over it.’
‘We won’t. But you can buy the cake and I want a big bit,’ I inform her. ‘A huge bit. The chocolate one with the sprinkly things on top.’
‘You’re on.’ Charlie looks relieved that I am taking solace in calories.
Frankly, I need something sweet to take away the sour taste that’s suddenly in my mouth.
Chapter Thirty
I’m in Paris, the city of love and lovers, and I can hardly believe it. And I suppose I am with my lover. Of sorts.
I didn’t ring Mason and cancel our trip. Obviously, you can tell that. Also, I will spare you the details of all the soul-searching and agonising that went on over the last couple of days. The amount of times I tapped his number into my phone to tell him that I’d changed my mind, only to then bottle the call. Packing alone had me in a turmoil of anxiety. I’ve got one small wheelie case, but I could have gone the whole Kim Kardashian and taken my entire wardrobe. Google said that Paris is best seen on foot, so I’ve packed comfortable walking shoes as well as heels. We’re only here overnight, so I don’t know how much sightseeing we’ll be able to cram in. I spent hours dyeing my hair and defuzzing myself in all the little important places.
For your own sake, I’ll skip the slightly awkward journey on the Eurostar where Mason was charm personified and I was more shy than my painfully shy teenage self. It felt like my first ever date and I’d rather that was consigned to the dustbin of memories. Three glasses of champagne helped to get over that bit, eventually.