A Hopeless Romantic Part 32

Marcus straightened up, cleared his throat, and said in his strange, low voice, "Well. There's a dinner-for our banking division. Our clients are having it-they're Germans. It's in a couple of weeks. Would you like to come with me?"

"Why?" said Laura in total astonishment.

Marcus's eyes bulged slightly and he said, "Right, sorry. We have to bring a date. I just thought-well, I'd like to think about what we've discussed today. I think it could work out, you know. Perhaps we could talk about it again. At the dinner. So I-I just thought I'd ask if you'd like to come."

Was this how it was supposed to be? Marcus was asking her out. Her. She who thought no one would ever look at her again. Laura felt weird, disconnected from the situation. She looked at Marcus and felt nothing, no feelings whatsoever other than a strange, misplaced affection; but perhaps that was a good thing, rather than rushing in headlong like before.

She crossed the room, then realized it was even more awkward being right opposite him, and stepped back, cross with herself. "Oh, G.o.d. I'm so sorry. I didn't realize-sorry, I just didn't get that you were asking me on a date. You see-right. She couldn't feel more stupid.

"No problem," said Marcus abruptly. "No. Problem." Then he did something quite remarkable. He almost smiled. The corners of his eyes crinkled, and it was gone almost as soon as it was there, but she knew she'd seen it.

"I'd love to come." She said frankly, "Sorry to be so stupid, I really didn't realize that's what you meant." She put her hand on his folded arms. "Anyway. Thanks." She said again, like a robot, "I'd love to come."

"Really?" said Marcus. He shook his head as if in disbelief, and grinned at her again, showing his teeth in a big, boyish smile. "Wow!" Then, almost instantly, he snapped his gaze down to the floor and fiddled with his cuff links again. "Yup, great. And the money-I'll think about it."

Laura smiled. This is amazing, she thought, looking at Marcus. For the first time in months and months, a) I'm in danger of actually being good at my job; and b) on a completely unrelated, yet bizarrely linked subject, I've got a date-with someone who actually wants to be seen in public with me.

"Thanks!" she said, her eyes sparkling at him. "For thinking about it. And-you know."

Marcus said stiffly, "No, thank you. It will be my pleasure. I'll be in touch. Do I have your mobile number?"

"No," said Laura. "I'll write it-"

"Give it to my a.s.sistant," said Marcus, fiddling with his cuff links. "I'm due in a meeting now. I'm glad you came in, thank you. I'll talk to Clare. We'll discuss this again at the dinner? Thanks." He raised his hand in a gesture of farewell and walked off, and Laura, watching him disappear around a corner, knew she was leaving another little bit of her old, stupid self behind. She hugged the folder and looked around Marcus's office.

How strange. She felt totally unemotional about it-her stomach wasn't churning, her heart wasn't thumping in her chest. She hoped it stayed like that, this feeling, that it didn't change. She clung to the cloak of numbness that hung over her. It was her best friend.

chapter thirty-nine.

T hings may have been going well with Yorky and Becky, but that didn't mean Yorky was any more relaxed as a host. When Sat.u.r.day came, he was like a cat on a hot tin roof, leaping nervously about the flat all day, so much so that he ended up hitting his hand on the kitchen doorframe fairly hard whilst trying to explain to Laura the best way to make lasagna. His finger swelled up, and Laura took over the cooking, as she had known all along she would.

She loved cooking, more so than ever. It gave her a feeling of control, a sense of purpose. She was in charge, no one else telling her what to do, and she loved mixing, chopping, stirring, crushing flavors together, deciding what to do next. It was funny-she and Yorky used to cook together all the time, but now she preferred to do it alone. Like most things, these days.

As Laura was putting the lasagna into the oven and checking her watch, Jo and Chris arrived.

"Look who's here!" said Yorky, ushering them slightly manically into the kitchen. "Look who's here. Great! Say h.e.l.lo to Laura, and then come and get a drink."

"Is Becky here yet?" said Jo, looking round eagerly.

"No, no," said Yorky, glancing over his shoulder just to make sure she hadn't crept in behind the others without his noticing her. "Er-no."

Laura hugged Jo. "h.e.l.lo, love! How are you?" she said, squeezing her tightly.

"I'm good. Ohhh," Jo said. "Laura, it's so good to see you."

"You too," said Laura, surprised at her normally restrained friend. "I can't believe it's been three weeks, it seems like-nothing, though. It's flown by."

"I know," said Jo. "And yet we packed so much in, you just wouldn't believe it."

"Sounds like it," said Laura, smiling brightly. "It sounds amazing."

Chris leaped on her enthusiasm, and said eagerly, "We brought the laptop along, in case you want to see the photos. I know they're probably really boring, but we thought you might be interested!"

Laura and Yorky exchanged looks.

"Ooh..." said Laura. "Yes.... Let's see, after supper, shall we?"

An hour later, they sat down to eat. Simon had talked of little else but Jorgia since his arrival-Jo and Becky clasped their hands, said it was wildly romantic and sweet, and hung on Simon's every word on the subject, while Laura stared suspiciously at them, wondering what on earth they were talking about. Simon then got out a photo of Jorgia to show everyone. He put it on the table, propped against the mustard, and Laura couldn't help feeling even more like Bridget Jones at the Smug Marrieds' dinner party, even if one of the couples was half represented by photo only.

"Jorgia sends her love," said Simon at one end of the table to Laura at the other end. Jo and Yorky and their respective partners were on either side of them. Becky smiled at Laura and made an "ahh" sound. She had brought Laura some flowers, which Laura could tell made Jo think Becky was the nicest person in the whole world. Laura could also tell Jo was gearing up to invite Becky and Yorky round to dinner with her and Chris, so they could talk about mini-breaks together and Jo could show Becky their wedding photos. She could feel it, it was coming, and she knew she wouldn't be invited. Hah, like she wanted to be. She realized Simon was smiling expectantly at her, so she sat up in her chair and looked at her brother.

"That's so nice of her," said Laura politely.

"So, mate. When's she coming over?" said Chris, handing Jo the salad. "When are you going to see her?"

A cloud pa.s.sed over Simon's face. "I don't know, actually," he said. He looked rather glum. "I hoped she'd come as soon as possible, but she still hasn't got the money, she says." He paused. "I'm going back in about a month's time, though. I haven't spoken to her for a while, that's all." He sighed. "I miss her. You know."

"You really think you might move to Peru?" asked Yorky.

Simon turned to him. "Yeah, you know, I really might. It's a big step and everything, but-it just feels right. I can't explain it."

Laura said nothing. She chewed on her lasagna.

"That's amazing, Simon," Jo said, smiling happily at him. "But-wow, that's a big step."

"I know," said Simon. "It is, but it doesn't feel like it, somehow. I can't explain it. I can really see myself moving there."

"Oh, come on," said Laura suddenly. Yorky looked down at his plate.

Simon stared at her. "What?" he said.

Laura said patiently, "Look, Si. It's really great you've met Jorgia, and everything. And you love her and all that. But-come on." She stretched out her hands in a placating gesture. "You have to wise up slightly. You know? You're not going to move there. You might think you are at the moment, but long term-seriously, no way." Yorky was still looking down at his plate. Laura tried to catch Jo's eye for support, but Jo was staring at Simon. She carried on blindly. "I mean-who is she, this girl? You barely know her. You're completely different! You've got nothing in common! It's never, ever, going to-"

"And what the h.e.l.l do you know about it?" Simon's expression was ugly. He pointed his finger at her, his voice shaking. "You're amazing, Laura. What business is it of yours in the first place? Eh?"

"It's not that-it's-" Laura said, taken aback by the vitriol in his voice. She tried to reason with him. "Listen, Simon. I'm just saying-"

"No, you listen," Simon said. The others were looking distinctly uncomfortable now. He pointed at his sister again. "You listen, for once, instead of sitting there in that smug judgmental way you keep doing since I've got back, when you don't know the first f.u.c.king thing about it. You have no right, no right at all!"

"Simon-" Jo began, a look of anguish on her face, but Laura waved her away.

"Oh, really," she snapped back, a flush of anger rising to her cheeks. "It's none of my business when my own brother's leeching off Mum, and Dad, and-and Gran, and lazing around the house doing jack-all just because of some random stranger he thinks he's in love with! Oh, no, none of my business, you're quite right."

"That's what I mean," Simon said, his voice dripping cold disdain. "The hypocrisy of it. You should listen to yourself, Laura. It is none of your business, okay? I've been back three weeks, and I know I have to get a job. Mum and Dad don't mind. You're the one who minds. It's so f.u.c.king hypocritical! You make me laugh! You, all of a sudden judging me because you think I'm in some dodgy relationship, when you-you go from one c.r.a.ppy relationship to another, some loser who you think's the answer to your prayers, and you're too f.u.c.king stupid to see they're just leading you on! You practically lose your job because of it! And when I fall for someone-I know it's hard, I know it's going to be difficult, but I really love her, you can't see that, can you, I love her-you don't even say 'Great!' or 'Can't wait to meet her, brother!' No, you sit there with your sour-milk expression, like you've got it all sorted, like you're perfect."

He paused and wiped his hand across his mouth, breathing deeply. "I don't understand what's happened to you. You didn't used to be like this."

Jo was staring at her, her eyes huge, shaking her head. Laura looked at her, perplexed, and then at Yorky, who was looking down at his plate. She knew what that meant. It meant he agreed with Simon. A pain stabbed in her side.

She and Simon knew the drill of their arguments, now they were older, well enough not to let them fester. And-Laura bit her lip. He was wrong, he was f.u.c.king rude and wrong, and it was never going to work out, but-it was none of her business. So as they waited for her response, the silence in the room growing more and more awkward, she took a deep, deep breath, fighting the urge to scream, to burst into tears, to slap her little brother.

"Sorry," she said. "Fine. I just worry about you. Because you're so different. That's all. But you're right. I don't know what it's like, being with someone like that. It's none of my business."

Simon nodded and looked apologetic. "I shouldn't have yelled at you," he said. "But you don't know what it's like, you're right."

Jo looked quickly from Laura to Simon. Then she said slowly, "Well, that's not exactly true, is it? Laura?"

"What?" Laura said, not really paying attention. She put the salad bowl gingerly on top of the pile of plates Yorky had picked up as he staggered into the kitchen, followed closely by a rather shaken-looking Becky.

"It's not exactly true." Jo was playing with her winegla.s.s, sliding it from one hand to the other. She looked from one Foster sibling to the other. "About you being with someone really different from you. Laura does know about that."

"What?" said Laura, bewildered. "What are you talking about?" How could Jo know about it?

Jo nodded at her emphatically. She reached out and took her hand. "Love. We were on the same flight back yesterday as Fran. Your cousin. And Ludo. Had a long chat with them. They'd been in-"

"Singapore," Laura finished for her. Why did she know that? Yes, Annabel had told her. "So?"

"Fran?" said Simon. "You poor things. For the whole flight? What a nightmare."

"I don't understand...," said Laura.

"We had a long chat," said Jo. "Fran and me. She told me all about your granny's birthday party." She looked searchingly at her friend. "About who was there. About who turned up. You know."

Laura went pale. She could actually feel the blood draining from her face; it was the oddest sensation. "Oh, my G.o.d. Look," she said, recovering herself, "they don't know what happened-"

"Well, they couldn't wait to tell us all about it," said Chris suddenly, next to his wife.

"I'm sorry, darling," said Jo, her eyes on Laura's. "So...it's true, then? Who you met-up there?"

"What are you talking about?" asked Simon, frowning.

"What if I told you your big sister spent her holiday with your parents having some grand affair with the Marquis of Ranelagh?" Jo said.

"Who?" said Simon blankly.

Jo and Laura were sitting by the pile of newspapers that needed to be recycled, and to Laura's immense horror, Jo pulled the supplement with the offending article off the top of the pile. Why hadn't she thrown it away? Why the h.e.l.l couldn't she bring herself to just chuck it in the bin?

Jo smoothed the newspaper on the table and jabbed at it with her finger. "One of the richest men in England. His house is over three hundred years old. Look!" She gestured at the picture of Nick, standing in front of the house. "Laura. Is that him? It is, isn't it? He's the one Fran told me you were seeing."

"What?" said Yorky, standing in the doorway holding the plates for the cheesecake. He shook his head violently. "Laura? What's going on? Who've you been seeing?" The spoons atop the plates slid onto the floor with a loud clatter.

"Some millionaire marquis," said Simon, standing behind Jo and peering over the newspaper. "Laura, seriously? My G.o.d."

"Oh, G.o.d," said Laura. She crouched down, picked up the spoons, and slammed them on the table.

"Is this true?' said Yorky, putting the plates down heavily, sounding like a stern Victorian paterfamilias.

"Er, yes," said Laura.

"You-s.h.a.gged-him?" Yorky pointed at the paper.

"It wasn't like that," Laura said.

"Him?" Becky said timidly. "Seriously?"

"Yes, yes," said Laura. She could feel her ears burning red. "I was on holiday in July," she said, trying to explain it to Becky, who was looking really alarmed. "I met him-at his house, when we went to look round, you know. Me and Mum and Dad. He asked me out, we had a few drinks. Um. And it was great. But I had to come home." She smiled at Becky, as if this were completely normal. "Just a holiday fling."

She avoided the gaze of Jo, whose small, determined face was watching her, eyes narrowed, lips pursed. She turned to Yorky, who was shaking his head at her. He gave her a small smile. "I knew it," he said. "Just knew it. Didn't you?" He turned to Jo.

"Yes," said Jo. "b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, yes."

"A marquis? You must be over the moon," said Simon slowly, drawing the paper toward him. "Your very own romantic hero. When are we going to meet him?"

"You're not," said Laura. "I'm not seeing him again." She stood up. "You didn't bring in the ice cream, Yorks."

"But-" Yorky said. "Why not?"

"It was a holiday fling, nothing more," said Laura. "You won't believe me, so I can say it till I'm blue in the face, but it's true. He didn't tell me who he was, I thought he was just some ordinary bloke. We were-" She stopped. "I thought we were friends. Yeah, we slept together. Yeah, it's a beautiful house. Oh, the idea of it was all very romantic. But it didn't work out. It's just-well, the reason it was never going to work out with me and Nick is, we're so different. Too much difference. It's a fairy tale. Fairy tales aren't real. And that's why-I worry about you and Jorgia, and I shouldn't. You're right, it's not my business."

"Ah, sis," Simon said, putting his arm around her shoulders and giving her a squeeze. Next to him, Yorky leaned over Jo and Becky to stare at the article. Chris watched them all stoically. Simon said in an undertone, 'I'm sorry, Laura. I mean it. Let's forget it. But I think you're wrong, you know." He paused. "I love Jorgia, that's all I'm sure about. Seriously. You don't fall in love with someone because it's convenient."

Sadness flooded into Laura's heart, a great wave of it, overtaking her so unexpectedly that she was almost knocked out by it. She felt so alone, all of a sudden, and she couldn't understand why, when here were her two best friends and her brother. What if Nick were here, she thought for a second, and she could put her head on his chest, feel him draw her close to his body, feel safe, as safe as she had in his house, in bed. What if she could tell him all of this, how would it be? She wished...No, she reminded herself. Forget it.

"Are you sure it wouldn't work?" said Jo urgently, in a quiet voice. "Are you sure you don't want to see him again?"

Laura wanted to laugh. Those were two totally separate things, weren't they? Of course she was sure it wouldn't work. And of course she wanted to see him again. Her eyes filled with tears. Mistake, mistake. She could not let Jo see her cry, could not let them see it meant anything to her.

"Oh, darling," said Jo softly. "You're not very happy at the moment, are you?"

"I am," said Laura. "I've got a date next week,' she added weakly, as a diversionary tactic.

"Well, that's good!" said Jo encouragingly. "Do you like him?"

"Oh, yes," said Laura. "He's-yeah. He's great. Met him through work. He's a financial a.n.a.lyst something. Er-seems really nice."

"What's he called?"

"Marcus," said Laura reluctantly, and the image of Marcus, fiddling with his cuff links, loomed large in her mind's eye.

"Look, there you go, then!" said Jo, trying to seem inordinately pleased. "No more marquises, eh? A nice, normal date with a nice normal bloke, just what you need."

"Er-" said Laura, not sure how to respond. "Well-I suppose so."