‘Was that her name?’
‘Haha, very funny. She was called Valerie, if you must know, and was the receptionist at the hotel.’
‘Blimey. Does she give all the guests a “happy ending”?’
‘I’ve no idea and I don’t want to know.’ I feel myself go pink again at the thought.
Charlie giggles again at my discomfiture. ‘No wonder you had no energy for sightseeing.’
‘That’s partly why I sloped off by myself in the morning. They were still sleeping and I needed to get out of the place. I couldn’t face either of them.’ I push away the image of Valerie and Mason still in bed while wondering whether they slept together when I left. Not that it matters. Far from it. ‘I was mortified, Charlie.’
‘I’m not bloody surprised.’
‘It did mean that I saw the Eiffel Tower.’
‘You could hardly bloody miss it,’ Charlie notes. ‘I could probably see it from here if I looked hard enough.’
‘It’s fair to say that my romantic weekend with our boss wasn’t quite the resounding success I’d hoped for.’ I clutch at my coffee for comfort. ‘You did warn me.’
‘Oh, Ruby,’ she says. ‘What am I going to do with you?’
‘I can see why you stick to Gary Barlow now.’
‘Gary would never have a threesome. He’s far too wholesome.’ She looks all faraway for a moment before adding, ‘So, are you seeing Shagger again?’
‘No. That was more than enough.’ Though, in my weaker moments, I still have an image of the eight-year-old boy being packed off to boarding school tugging at my heartstrings.
‘You’ve not developed a taste for the steamier side of sex?’
‘No,’ I say vehemently. ‘I’ve learned my lesson. I’m only going out with nice men from now on.’
‘You can’t have Gary Barlow,’ she says. ‘Not even on your laminated list. That baby’s mine. We’re not going to share that one, you and your sleazy threesomes.’
I hang my head in shame. ‘Don’t remind me.’ I think the problem is that I’m sure Mason would have been happy in Paris with anyone. It wasn’t me he wanted to take. Despite what he said, he wasn’t really hankering after my sparkling company. Mason just wanted some fun. By fun, I mean lots of sex. Anyone would have done. That doesn’t make me feel so great.
‘Take That are playing Paris in the summer. You and I should go there together. We’d have great fun. And we’d see stuff.’ Charlie kicks her legs against the bench. ‘The fan club are organising a trip. We could do some sightseeing. Take in all the tourist bits that you missed.’
‘Sounds like a plan.’ I would have a good time with Charlie. I know that. Then my mobile pings and it’s a text from Mason. Hope you enjoyed the weekend. I’ll call you. Let’s have dinner soon. I turn my phone and show it to Charlie.
‘Dinner, eh?’
‘He’s just being polite,’ I say. ‘There’s no way he’ll call and, even if he does, there’s no way I’m having dinner with him.’
And I mean it. Honestly, I do.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Mason actually calls me a dozen times, maybe more. I let them all go to voicemail. There’s nothing I want to say to him and there’s certainly nothing I want to do with him of an intimate nature. I’ve had my head down for the last two days, just doing my job, earning a meagre crust. I’ve swerved out of work dead on time too so that I’d avoid him, but Charlie tells me that he hasn’t been into the pub at the end of the day as he sometimes does. I can only hope that it’s not going to be difficult between us when he does, eventually, rock up. We’re grown-ups. We can handle this.
On Wednesday morning, when my phone rings again, I’m about to leave it unanswered then I glance at the number and it isn’t Mason. It’s Joe and my heart pitter-patters a bit even though I don’t want it to.
‘Hi,’ I say when I pick up.
‘Hi Ruby. It’s Joe Edwards. Sorry to bother you, but I’m calling to say that I can’t make our lesson tonight.’
‘Oh. I thought Bob was teaching me now.’
‘He’s not able to make it either. We’re short-handed so we’ve had to cancel the session. It doesn’t happen often and normal service should be resumed next week. I’m sorry.’
‘I hope nothing’s wrong.’
‘Work-related issues for me. We’re doing our first film show for the public at the centre – I managed to raise some funds. My colleague was due to be on duty, but she’s sprained her ankle and is laid up for a few days. I’ve stepped into the breach.’
‘That’s very noble,’ I say. ‘I hope you enjoy the film.’
‘I’m not sure it’s my bag,’ Joe laughs. ‘We decided to let the residents choose what we show. This one’s going to be Love, Actually.’
‘Oh, that’s a great movie. One of my favourites.’
There’s a pause which goes on a bit too long, before Joe says, ‘Would you like to come along? As my guest. I’d be glad of your support.’
Before my brain has time to process the invitation, my mouth already says, ‘Yes. That would be lovely.’
‘Are you happy to come along by yourself? I’ve got to get there early to set things up and I’m sure you don’t want to hang around, otherwise I’d pick you up. The film starts at eight o’clock, but we’re serving drinks in the bar beforehand.’
‘I’m working until seven, so I’ll come along straight after that.’
‘Perfect. I’ll see you later.’
Then I hang up and wonder if I’ve actually just organised myself a date. I can’t have. Can I?
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The Sunshine Woods community is to the south of Costa del Keynes which makes it handy for me to drive to when I leave work as it’s barely ten minutes from the Butcher’s Arms. I get changed quickly in the staffroom – clean white shirt, beige cigarette-cut trousers, black heels. I fluff my hair, spray myself with a waft of Viktor & Rolf Flowerbomb and put some lippy on too. Looks as if I’m saying I made an effort, but not too much. I hope so, anyway.
Now I swing into the complex and park up. It’s bigger than I’d imagined with a couple of dozen small houses arranged around a pretty courtyard. Each one has a French door that opens onto a small lawn and there are well-tended flowerbeds in full bloom with the last of the spring flowers. There’s a café here too, closed now, and I can see a small hall ahead of me. A sign in slightly wonky writing says, film, this way!, so I pick my way through the manicured garden. In the foyer there are a few people already gathering and as I step inside, I see Joe all spruced up in a white polo shirt and black jeans standing with one of the residents. He smiles when he sees me and it’s filled with a warmth so genuine that, for a moment, it takes me aback.
‘Hi Ruby,’ he says. ‘I’m glad you could make it. I wasn’t sure you would.’
‘I said I’d come.’
‘Billy,’ he says to the man with him. ‘This is my friend, Ruby. Say hello and ask her would she like a programme.’
The man is probably in his forties and has Down’s Syndrome. ‘Hello, Ruby. Would you like a programme?’
‘I would. Thank you.’