They all look at me horrified. I don’t know what they do and am not the slightest bit interested. It looks as if they spend all day in the gym, if you ask me. Which no one did.
We all stand and look at each other, conversation clearly exhausted. With friends like this, Mason really doesn’t need enemies.
‘Excuse me,’ I say. ‘I need a refill.’ And, thankfully, when I hold up my glass as proof, it is actually empty. I slink away and then wonder what to do with myself. Might as well find another drink, I suppose.
So I head to the bar and, when I get there, am relieved to find that Ben from behind the bar at the Butcher’s Arms is moonlighting here. There’s a queue and Ben and one other barman are struggling to keep up with pouring drinks and mixing cocktails. I don’t mind queueing though as it gives me something to do.
‘A friendly face, finally,’ I say when I stand in front of Ben.
‘Ruby!’ He looks as relieved to see me as I am him.
‘I didn’t know you worked here.’
‘The odd shift. But I might move here permanently. What can I get you?’
‘A glass of white. Large.’
‘We’re drowning here,’ he says. ‘Typically, Shagger hasn’t considered the logistics of catering for this many people.’
‘Want me to roll up my sleeves?’
Ben’s stressed face brightens. ‘Would you?’
‘Why not?’ So I ditch my idea of another drink, go behind the bar and set to in serving the thirsty partygoers.
They say time flies when you’re having fun. It also flies when you’re serving behind a busy bar, trust me. When the last of the customers have been served, Ben high-fives me. ‘Thanks, Ruby. We couldn’t have managed without you.’
‘No problem. Let’s clear up and go home.’
The glitterati are drifting away now, the club is emptying nicely. I wash glasses, tidy the bar, think how much my feet hurt and how foolish I was to wear vertiginous heels. I might get home before midnight, at this rate.
Suddenly, Mason swerves up, looking horrified. ‘What are you doing, Brown?’
‘Helping. You didn’t have enough bar staff. Ben was overwhelmed.’ I point in the general direction of the retreating crowd as I polish a glass. ‘That lot seem determined to drink the place dry.’
‘It went well, though?’ He still seems worried.
‘A resounding success,’ I assure him. ‘They’ll be flocking to sign on the dotted line.’
‘I really appreciate you stepping in, but you shouldn’t be doing this.’ He lowers his voice. ‘You’re here with me.’
Except I wasn’t. I was standing round like a lemon on my own and keeping busy was definitely preferable.
I pick up another glass. This is probably my designated role in life. I’m not one of the party people, I’m more suited to being behind the bar at glamorous events. I don’t know what makes me think of Joe, but I wonder where he is now. He’d be my equivalent. I’m sure he’d rather be rolling up his sleeves and getting stuck in rather than standing posing in a dinner jacket.
When Ben moves away, Mason says, ‘Let me finish here. I won’t be long and then we can go up to my apartment and I’ll make it up to you.’
‘Yeah, sure.’ But that certainly isn’t on the cards tonight.
‘I promise I won’t be long.’
‘You go and do what you have to do,’ I tell him and he hurries off to chat to some of the guests as they depart.
I polish my last glass, dry my hands, kiss Ben on the cheek and say, ‘See you at work.’
‘Cheers again, Ruby.’
Then, without Mason noticing, I head out of the door and go home.
Chapter Sixty-One
The next morning I get flowers delivered. Can’t remember when that last happened. I think when I had my appendix out. Not surprisingly, they’re from Mason. Red roses. Two dozen. They’re gorgeous.
I text him to say thanks.
Then realise that I’ll have to go round to Mum’s to borrow a vase because I don’t possess one and I can’t really leave them standing in the sink.
Chapter Sixty-Two
A couple of days later, when I’m chucking the wilted roses in the bin, Joe calls me out of the blue and asks me to meet him for a coffee.
In truth, I’m reluctant to go as I’ll only like him again. However, as my default setting is to say ‘yes’, I’ve agreed to meet him before my brain can work out how to turn him down.
So later that day after we’ve both finished our shifts, we meet in the city centre at the Queen’s Court. Joe buys us iced coffees from the trendy stainless steel wagon that pops up in the summer months and we take up residence in the red-and-white-striped deckchairs set out to face the sun. It’s a beautiful day and this courtyard is a little grassy oasis in the busy shopping centre. There are a few other people dotted around – a young couple smooching, two elderly ladies with their shoes kicked off on a break from shopping, a family with a boisterous boy who’s charging around while they try to relax. Me and Joe.
We’re shy with each other, a bit stilted, conversation awkward. It’s fair to say that our last meeting wasn’t a resounding success and my subsequent phone message is clearly hanging in the air between us.
Still, I sit back and close my eyes for a second enjoying the rays on my face and the brain-freeze from my ice-laden coffee. I decided that I was going to be cool, aloof, but seeing Joe again has made my heart soften. He’s a good, solid guy and they don’t come around that much these days.
‘I’m sorry about our lunch with the kids,’ he says. ‘I was pretty sure you wouldn’t want to hear from me again. Then I got your message.’
‘Sorry about that, but I thought it was for the best.’
‘They were unspeakable,’ he says. ‘I’ve never been so mortified.’
‘It’s difficult for them,’ I say magnanimously, even though they were both little horrors. I understand why. Truly I do. I’d probably be the same in their circumstances. They want their dad all to themselves, not sharing him with some random woman. If they see him moving on, then it’s a dead cert that their mum will never come home. Sad. I get that.
‘I’ve missed you.’ He looks over at me and, tentatively, takes my hand. ‘I know that you said you’d had enough, but I’m not ready to give up yet. Do you want to keep pushing on and see if my monsters learn to love you? I know it’s not an easy ask, so it’s entirely your call.’
And I guess that this is a defining moment of our future relationship. Do I say yes and commit to Joe or stick to my guns and simply walk away? I don’t think that there can be any half measures. You can’t dabble with a guy who’s got kids. Not that I’m the dabbling kind anyway. Except with Mason. It’s probably fair to say that I’ve dabbled with him.
‘You’re hesitating,’ he says, anxiously.
‘What can I do to get in their good books, though? They made it pretty clear that I wasn’t welcome. How could I possibly break in? What do they like? I’m not really au fait with the World of the Teenager.’
‘That brings me to my idea.’ He sits up, animated. ‘Daisy turns thirteen next week and has just announced that she wants a party.’ Joe rolls his eyes. ‘Gina’s away with work – supposedly – and I thought it might be fun if we organised a party together.’