The Secret to Falling in Love Page 10

  Before I had time to answer, Mum announced that the buffet was ready. The door swung open, allowing a trail of hungry guests in. I was relieved to have something else to focus on after such a weird conversation. I spotted Lizzie and went over to greet her. ‘Hey, sis,’ she squealed, grabbing me in a bear hug. ‘I didn’t know you had arrived.’ I smelt alcohol on her breath. No doubt she was making the most of the party; an afternoon tipple at a family do was probably the closest she ever came to having a night out these days.

  ‘Sorry, I went straight into the kitchen to help Mum and then got talking to—’

  ‘Is that Jean’s son?’ Lizzie gasped, slightly louder than I would have liked.

  ‘It certainly is. That’s who I was talking to. It turns out he knew all about the list and the fact that our mothers had planned for us to get together. Awkward or what?’

  ‘Oh my goodness! He’s quite good-looking though, Mel. Maybe you should go for it.’ She smiled and sauntered over to the buffet table. Scott was still there, piling his plate high and chatting away to Amanda. I made a break for the kitchen. I needed a moment to get over the surreal conversation that just happened.

  Luckily Mum still had reserves of food piled high in the kitchen. I took a piece of quiche and a few tomatoes before I realised I felt too sick to eat. With nerves, excitement or embarrassment I wasn’t sure, but definitely too sick to eat. I poured myself a large glass of dry white wine; the first sip hit the spot immediately. The second sip allowed me to compose myself and collect my thoughts.

  I couldn’t decide whether Scott was being flirty or arrogant, but either way it was brave of him to address the elephant in the room so early into our introduction. His forwardness did work to put me at ease, and he was very good-looking. I thought that was what knocked me out of kilter. That, along with the surprise of seeing him in the first place.

  Once half the glass had gone, I felt relaxed enough to eat my quiche. As I polished off the crust, I noticed the puddings on the side. A plate of millefeuille pastries sat invitingly amidst the other desserts. I couldn’t resist.

  Using a cake slice, I carefully slid one onto one of Mum’s best side plates and adjusted the rest so the telltale gap was gone, using kitchen roll to wipe away a small blob of vanilla custard that had clung on to the plate. I took a knife and fork from the drawer, sat down at the breakfast bar and attempted to cut into the firm pastry. Immediately, custard oozed out of both sides. ‘Every time!’ I grumbled to myself. As I scooped the delicious goo up with my fork, I heard someone come in behind me.

  ‘You’re making a right mess of that, aren’t you?’ I turned to see a grinning Scott with a pile of dirty plates.

  ‘Excuse me, these are notoriously difficult to eat!’ I said defensively, taking care not to fire crumbs from my mouth.

  ‘Excuse me too, but there’s a knack to eating them. But I’m afraid I only share this top-secret knowledge with my closest friends.’ He folded his arms, mimicking my guardedness.

  ‘Well these are my favourite, so if you have a less messy way to eat them, then share it, buster, so I can gracefully consume them in public and not have to hide out in my mother’s kitchen every time I fancy one.’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t,’ he replied smoothly. Without saying anything else he walked towards me and raised his hand to my chin, sending a tingling sensation through my stomach. ‘I can help you with this though.’ His tone deepened as he wiped a thumb slowly across the corner of my mouth, still holding my chin and my gaze. I couldn’t believe I’d been talking to him with a big blob of vanilla custard stuck on my face. Smooth, Mel, really smooth.

  ‘It was actually a fashion statement.’ I tried my hand at wit to disguise my shame.

  ‘Ah yes, I’d forgotten. You’re materialistic – you love designer handbags, shoes and custard-based fashion statements. That makes sense.’ He let out an easy, natural laugh. I was beginning to get his sense of humour – I wondered if it was his defence mechanism to hide his own embarrassment. ‘Anyway, being the tidy, organised, true metro-man I am, I must go back and do some more clearing up.’ He turned to walk away.

  ‘It’s no wonder my mum likes you so much,’ I called after him, laughing. He turned back and winked at me.

  Realising that I’d been a bit unsociable for the whole of the party, I made my way into the lounge, where the majority of the guests were gathered. Amanda and Lizzie were sitting on the floor playing a card game with Lilly. Dad was talking to Ben and my uncle Ron about cricket, whilst Mum, Jean and my aunty Judie were perched on the sofa, chatting about their favourite contestants on Strictly Come Dancing.

  Alby and George were playing with some Duplo on the floor. I opted to sit with them to avoid talk of cricket, Strictly, and no doubt Scott, if I were to sit with Amanda and Lizzie. He soon appeared and made a beeline for the boys. I shuffled backwards, watching how at ease he was. The boys were soon in fits of laughter at his awful attempts at Duplo creations. ‘What is it, Scott?’ Alby asked with a puzzled look on his face.

  ‘What do you mean, what is it? I worked hard on this. George, you must know?’ he asked. Turning to my equally puzzled other nephew, he threw his hands onto his hips in an over-animated gesture.

  ‘It’s a funny tower?’ George tried. Scott dropped his arms and paused before letting out a fearful roar. The boys squealed in surprise and leapt from their bottoms as Scott began to chase them around with his masterpiece.

  ‘Now do you know what is?’ I heard him shout as he chased the boys out into the hallway, still roaring. I caught Lizzie and Amanda gawping at me and realised I’d been smiling the whole time I was watching them.

  Later, once most of the guests had left, Amanda and I decided to take our drinks outside for some fresh air on my account and a not-so-fresh crafty cigarette on hers – an absolute must when she drank, even if it was just the one like tonight, despite being a non-smoker ordinarily.

  ‘Scott seems nice,’ she said once she’d taken her first drag. I realised it wasn’t a passive statement, but I was in no mood to rise to her provocation.

  ‘Yes, I guess so.’ I maintained indifference.

  ‘Do you not think you should actually go on a date with him?’

  Unable to avoid Amanda’s typical bluntness, I gave my most diplomatic answer. ‘He is nice, but he’s going through a divorce. It wouldn’t be right. Besides that, I already have a date lined up with Joseph. You know, the date I didn’t need my mother to arrange for me?’

  ‘A date with a guy you’re unable to contact.’ She made a good point.

  ‘But I really do like Joseph, and I’ll see him in the coffee shop tomorrow. We’ll arrange something.’

  ‘Who’s arranging what?’ I knew it was Scott before I turned around – I recognised that Cheshire twang by now.

  ‘You need to stop sneaking up on people,’ I said. It seemed to be a quite frustrating habit of his.

  ‘Sorry, I actually didn’t know you were out here. I needed a bit of fresh air after washing all of those pots. I can’t believe your mum hasn’t got a dishwasher. In fact, I can’t believe my mum hasn’t told me that your mum hasn’t got a dishwasher.’ His eyes caught a glimmer of moonlight.

  ‘Me neither. I’ve been on at her for years. She doesn’t understand how anything can be properly cleaned in one. She won’t listen to messy old me on cleaning matters anyway.’

  ‘My wife was messy.’ I was a bit surprised to hear him mention his wife but didn’t show it. ‘I’m just saying, it isn’t something I’m put off by, as such. I think my mother put it on the list because she thinks that I need someone in my life who is the complete opposite to her. I just wanted you to know that.’ He shuffled awkwardly and then sat down beside me on a vacant green plastic garden chair, a popular home purchase in the nineties.

  ‘You didn’t need to tell me that. I wasn’t offended by the list. I mean, I was offended by the list, but not its contents; I was offended by the meddling instigators w
riting it in the first place. I don’t even know you, we’d never met, so I know it wasn’t a personal attack.’ I shrugged. Without saying a word, Amanda stubbed out her cigarette and headed inside.

  ‘Sorry for bringing it up earlier. I just thought it would be less awkward if we addressed the elephant in the room straight away. I was, and am actually, really embarrassed to meet you.’ He held out his hand sheepishly.

  ‘And I’m embarrassed to meet you too.’ I laughed, taking his hand firmly and shaking it.

  ‘It’s my mother’s fault. She never liked my wife, so after a few weeks of “I told you so’s” she decided to take it upon herself to find me someone “proper”. In all honesty, I just want to get through this divorce and enjoy life for a bit, not jump into another relationship. Of course my pleas fell on deaf ears, and once my mum was in cahoots with your mum the whole thing had taken an embarrassing turn. I think we’d spiced up their Wednesday morning coffee chats though. I didn’t actually think I’d ever meet you. I know I’m here tonight at your parents’ house, but Mum had said she didn’t think you could make it as nobody could get hold of you.’

  He didn’t volunteer the information, so I didn’t ask the reasons for his divorce. But I also didn’t want to dismiss his marriage since he had brought up the subject of his wife. ‘How long were you married?’ I ventured.

  ‘Just over three years. We were together two years before that.’

  Not wanting to pry I changed the subject. ‘So if you’re not out clubbing with friends at the weekend and you don’t have an OAP bash to attend, what do you do for fun?’

  ‘I have a dog, Rosie. She’s a chocolate Labrador and my most loyal companion. I walk her a lot, I ski a bit, read, and go to the pub every now and then. I’m probably a bit dull in comparison to you.’

  ‘Not at all. It’s probably duller to go out drinking three to four nights a week, or to persist in dating idiots off the internet all the time. I would actually love to try skiing. Ever since the indoor ski slope opened I’ve been desperate to go but none of my friends are interested in activities that don’t involve champagne or a spa.’ I remembered the ‘Hobbies’ section of my dating profile.

  ‘You should come along with me. I normally ski alone, but it would be fun to teach a rookie. And besides that, it would certainly keep our mothers’ tongues wagging.’ He smirked.

  ‘I like the idea of winding our mothers up. If you’re serious about the skiing I would really love to give it a go.’

  ‘How does Tuesday sound?’

  ‘Perfect.’

  ***

  The car began to spin as I buckled my seat belt. ‘I hadn’t realised how much I’d drunk until now,’ I groaned to Amanda.

  ‘Well, being sober, I had,’ she barked, presumably disgruntled more by the fact she was sober on a Saturday night than the fact I was an irritating drunk. No doubt taking the opportunity to quiz me whilst my inhibitions were taking a break, she brought up Scott again. ‘You and Scott seemed to get on well tonight.’

  ‘He’s actually a nice guy. I thought he was a bit arrogant at first, but I think he was just embarrassed about the whole interfering-mothers affair. We’re going skiing next week.’

  ‘Skiing? What, on a date?’ Amanda didn’t hide her surprise.

  ‘Not on a date. The poor guy is going through a divorce, for goodness’ sake. Just as friends. He skis, I want to try it, so he offered to teach me. Anyway, I’m—’

  ‘Going on a date with Joseph, yes, I know. The good thing about going on odd dates here and there is that you’re still technically single.’ She turned to wink at me.

  ‘Bugger!’

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘I didn’t give him my number or any means of contacting me. Again!’

  ‘Don’t worry, Cinderella, you shall go to the ball! I filled him in and got his mobile number whilst you were in the kitchen looking for Alka-Seltzer.’

  ‘No, no, no. I can’t do that; you know I can’t. It’s cheating. Turn the car around.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Do it now, turn the car around. I have to arrange this properly. Myself.’

  Amanda spun the car around and headed back to my mum’s. I ran inside, but everybody had already gone. My mum was in the kitchen, washing the last few glasses.

  ‘Mel? What’s wrong, darling?’

  ‘I need to see Scott. Has he gone?’

  ‘I’m afraid so. He was seeing his mother got home safe then heading off to his house.’ A small bemused grin started to form on her face.

  ‘Oh no!’

  ‘What’s wrong? Did something happen between you two?’ Mum could barely conceal her intrigue and excitement.

  ‘God no, Mum. He’s going through a divorce! He was going to teach me how to ski. We were meeting up on Tuesday, but he has no way to contact me because of my technology ban.’

  ‘Write him a note and I’ll give it to Jean in the morning. That’s how we communicated in my day.’

  ‘Good idea.’ I ran upstairs into the office and grabbed a piece of notepaper and a pen and scribbled a note:

  Hi Scott,

  If you’re still okay for skiing on Tuesday can we meet at the indoor ski slope at 6.30 p.m.?

  Mel

  I deliberated over whether or not to put a kiss. I decided not to, since I hadn’t and wouldn’t have kissed him in real life. I folded the note and placed it in an envelope, sealing it to keep it from prying eyes.

  I headed downstairs and handed the note to Mum. ‘Please can you ask Jean to pass this on to Scott as soon as possible?’ Mum took the note but didn’t answer. Instead she looked at me, trying to read my expression. ‘Okay, I’ll give you credit – he is a nice guy, but nothing happened between us, nor will it. He needs to get over his divorce before he can even think about dating. And if you must know, I have a date coming up with a very handsome and charming bachelor, so things are working out fine.’ I realised too late that I’d shared way more information with Mum than I ever would when sober. Luckily I was practically marinated in Merlot and carefree so would save my regret for the morning.

  ‘I’m glad to hear you’ve met someone, darling. I’ll pass this on to Jean in the morning, don’t worry.’ She placed a steady arm around my shoulders and guided me to the door. ‘It was lovely to see you today. Your dad and I are so glad you came. Tell Amanda to drive safely. Goodbye, dear.’

  ‘Goodbye, Mum.’

  Chapter Twelve

  My head hurt. I couldn’t believe I was waking up hung-over, again. According to my watch it was almost ten o’clock. A respectable time for me. I couldn’t even remember Amanda dropping me off, never mind how I’d got up the stairs and into my flat. Rubbing my head, I peeled myself out of bed, slightly perplexed at how I came to feel so rotten after a tame evening at my parents’.

  Before I could wallow in self-pity any longer, it suddenly dawned on me that it was Sunday. I had to get to the coffee shop to see Joseph if I was going to be proactive and arrange our date, or more correctly, prove Amanda wrong. He might have been wondering why I hadn’t emailed him. I took a quick shower and brushed my teeth before getting dressed.

  I opted for a smarter look than last week, given that he looked the well-groomed type and that he was some big-shot CEO. I had a Burberry cashmere sweater that I got from a promotional event through work – it was a gorgeous burgundy colour and set off my blonde hair well. I teamed it with dark skinny jeans and some deep tan ankle boots. I put on a tiny bit of make-up to brighten up my hung-over face, and soon I was looking as fresh and casual as I could hope for. Feeling confident, I grabbed my bag and headed out of the door.

  As I approached the coffee shop, my confidence dispersed and fear set in. What if he wasn’t there? What if he was mad at me for not getting in touch? What if he was in there with someone else? I wouldn’t have had to go through this uncertainty if I’d just had access to my bloody email!

  I tried to compose myself by p
araphrasing lines from Notting Hill: I’m just a girl, standing in front of a coffee shop. Shaking my head, I braced myself, bravely opened the door and walked in. Straight away, I spotted Joseph sitting at the same corner table we’d shared last week. He was alone, reading a copy of the Financial Times intently.

  The coffee shop was much quieter today, so I had no reason to go over to the back corner other than to speak to him. If I did, there’d be no turning back. I ordered a coffee, and when it was ready I forced myself to turn and look at Joseph. He was still as gorgeous as I remembered. Engrossed in his paper, he still hadn’t noticed me, so I took a deep breath, collected my coffee and headed towards him before I had time to chicken out.

  ‘Joseph, hi,’ I said coolly. To my relief, a flicker of recognition crossed his face.

  ‘Melissa, hello. What a surprise.’

  ‘I just popped in for a coffee and saw you sitting here,’ I lied. ‘I hope I’m not interrupting you?’

  ‘No, no, not at all. Please, sit. Have your coffee with me.’ He gestured to the empty chair opposite him, folded his paper and tucked it into his bag.

  ‘Thanks. Did you have a good trip?’ I asked, stuck for anything else to say.

  ‘I did, thank you – very productive, actually. I was disappointed not to hear from you when I arrived back though,’ he said casually before sipping his coffee. I was glad of his forwardness. Another man who gets straight to the point. They were proving to make my life easier.

  ‘I actually have a very good reason.’ I told him about work, my article and my deal with Dee. He held my gaze the entire time I spoke and didn’t interrupt me once. He looked at me as if I was telling the most interesting story he’d ever heard.