Grant and Lard exchanged a surreptitious glance.
‘What?’ he said. ‘What am I missing here?’
Chapter Thirty-Five
I scurry along by the side of the Thames heading for the Hay’s Galleria. The best thing for a broken heart is a spot of retail therapy – according to the glossy magazines, anyway. I’ve run out of wine which, after last night, is just as well because my liver is beginning to suffer. All the little cells must be curling up in a toxic haze after the battering they’ve had. I’m sure I’ve consumed my entire annual alcohol quota in the last few days. I’ll have to start a detox programme before my body turns into a landfill site. And this is from a woman who previously considered Quorn an appetising foodstuff. So, in order to avoid the booze route to repair a broken heart – which hasn’t worked – it’s worth giving the shops a try. I’m still sane enough to know that a bout of excessive and unnecessary purchasing won’t bring me happiness, but it might help to numb the pain for a while.
It’s a bright, sunny day – cold but not bitterly so. ‘Cardigan weather’, my mother would call it. The sky is blue. Cottonwool clouds are billowing just as they should do. It’s the sort of day that makes you glad to be alive. I don’t feel glad to be alive exactly, but I don’t feel too skanky either. A few well-aimed Nurofen have restored some of my equilibrium.
I swing into the Galleria – a trendy spot more like a theme park than a shopping mall. It has been made to look like an old London dockside alley, even down to the cobbled street. In the centre, a metal galleon in full sail disports itself as a fountain under an arched glass roof. The shops are largely of the tourist variety – who, as it’s summer, are present in abundance. There’s also a spattering of trendy art galleries, boutiques and jewellers. But within a short space of time, I’ve still managed to make a few useful purchases – tights, make-up, nail polish – and a few totally pointless ones too. A white top that has cost a lot of money that I don’t have and that I’m never, ever going to be able to wear in case I spill something on it. And if I was still with Leo I’d never, ever be able to wear it because he always managed to spill something on me. I know there must be a moral in there somewhere, but it’s currently eluding me. My hangover is receding – this, I conclude, is due to the fact that the body can cope with only one pain at a time and the pain of flexing my credit card is taking my mind off my headache.
Stopping for a much-needed refill of coffee at Starbucks, I enjoy it sitting outside at a scattering of tables and chairs on the pavement. And I feel okay about sitting here alone, surrounded by my purchases. I can do this. Being alone is different from being lonely. Some experiences are still as rewarding when they’re completed as a single person rather than as part of a couple. Drinking coffee is one of them. Renewed with vigour and caffeine, I set off on my ‘Forget Leo’ shopping mission once more.
An hour later and my assessment is that everything is going rather well – the carrier bags are accumulating nicely, my feet are beginning to hurt, my purse is emptying fast. All the ingredients of a successful retail experience. Everything is going rather too well, perhaps. You know how you get this niggling feeling that something untoward is about to happen? Call it women’s intuition. Call it what you will. I was half-expecting something awful to occur. But not this. I never expected this. Leo and his new woman are coming along the pavement towards me. ‘Oh no,’ I whimper. ‘Please no.’
The happy couple are arm-in-arm, browsing in shop windows and looking very lovey-dovey. And Leo is laughing. Leo never laughs when he’s shopping – it’s one of the few times in his life when he could be guaranteed to be terminally miserable. Like most blokes he would choose to have all his toenails removed without anaesthetic rather than go shopping. I had to drag him out once a year – usually with days to go before his jeans and shoes fell apart completely. Then I had to herd him into a changing room and coerce him into staying in there by confiscating all his clothes until he’d tried on everything I’d picked out for him. But then, I suppose, there are few guys who view shopping as a hobby – that remains a peculiarly female trait. Leo thinks it is something to be endured on as few occasions as humanly possible – not conducted arm-in-arm whilst laughing. And yet here he is, giggling away like a man without a care in the world. I feel as if I’ve wandered into a parallel universe.
‘Why do mortal women value these trinkets, Leo?’ Isobel asked him.
A forced, tinkling laugh escaped Leo’s lips. It could so nearly have been a scream.
They were looking in the window of a terribly trendy jewellers and, of course, like the female of any species, Isobel’s eyes had gravitated straight towards the diamond rings. The expensive ones. Huge solitaires with equally huge price tags.
Leo shook his head. ‘I’ve no idea. Absolutely no idea.’
‘Do they have a symbolic meaning?’
‘Er . . . no. No.’ He pretended to contemplate this matter deeply. ‘Don’t think so.’
But Leo did think that it was time to hustle her away from the window and towards a less emotionally-loaded shop, if there was such a thing. Isobel seemed intrigued by shopping, but not dedicated to it. Leo wondered if they embraced retail therapy with a vengeance in fairyland as they did here. Did they have purveyors of fine wings or toadstools? Leo realised that he knew so little about his new love. What sort of needs did she have when she was back in her real home? Here, if Isobel needed new clothes, she just seemed to wave her wand and they appeared. Maybe, Leo wondered, he could persuade her to turn this into a business concept, thus making their fortunes and enabling him to retire at a very youthful age from the binding world of high finance.
Bizarrely, it had been Leo’s suggestion to come here and shop, so he only had himself to blame. Wild horses wouldn’t have dragged him here a few weeks ago. Leo hated the thought of parting with money for things that you didn’t really need – unless, of course, those things were computer games, blokey-type gadgets, comics or booze. Perhaps he was mellowing in his old age. Though it would be a sad day when Leo considered a visit to B&Q, Homebase or Wickes. It came as a bit of a shock to him that he could even name three DIY retailers.
He took Isobel’s arm, laughed gaily again, and briskly steered her away from the jeweller’s window.
I look round, panic gripping me. There’s no way I want to be forced into a situation where I have to confront a maniacally giggling Leo and his new girlfriend. This is terrible. It isn’t that I’m having a bad hair day or anything – definitely a time when you don’t want to run into your love rival and your ex. I grind to a halt. It still takes some adjusting of my mindset to think of Leo in that way and that’s why I don’t want to bump into him like this. I need more time to get used to the situation – about fifty years should do it.
What on earth am I going to do? Any minute now they’ll see me. Alone. Shopping alone. Because I have no man and no mates. Because I’m a sad, sexless spinster. It can’t happen. It simply can’t happen. The Galleria is a small enclosed space and they’re gaining on me rapidly; the gap between us is shrinking by the minute. I look around, terror looming large. If I act quickly, I might just be able to make a quick getaway. But no, it’s too late. They’re nearly upon me. As I turn to bolt, I see a gorgeous young man bearing down on me. He’s carrying a charity collecting tin in his hand which he’s rattling at me. I grab him by the hand.
‘Come on,’ I bark at him. ‘You’ll do.’
‘What?’ The man looks terrified.
I snatch his tin from him – he’s collecting for an animal charity. A predisposition to be nice to furry creatures, eh? Always a good thing in a man. Leo hates animals, but that’s usually because they somehow manage to wee on him – even an elephant when we went to London Zoo together once. It would have been quite funny, if it hadn’t been for the smell on the Tube on the way home. I toss the charity tin into a very pretty display of geraniums outside the nearby florists.
‘But . . . but . . .’
‘Don’t say a
nything,’ I order. ‘I’ll make it worth your while.’
When Leo looked up, Emma was standing there. In his haste to get Isobel away from the engagement rings, Leo hadn’t even noticed his ex-girlfriend. She was clutching the arm of a very tall man and was looking nervous. The man looked a bit twitchy too.
‘Hi,’ Emma said. ‘Leo!’ She sounded very happy and perky.
‘Oh. Hi.’ He tried to sound perky too. Leo wondered who the hell this guy was. They looked very friendly. Emma was clinging onto his arm as if she was never going to let him go. Leo felt a twinge of pain and guilt. Perhaps she was hanging onto him for grim death because she was afraid he might bolt like he himself had. He glanced down and noticed that Isobel was clinging onto him in the same way.
Leo looked at the guy and felt perplexed for some reason. The other guy looked back at Leo in exactly the same way. He appeared to be slightly more blank than Leo – if that was humanly possible.
‘Oh,’ Emma said into the awkward silence. ‘Let me introduce you. This is Stefan. My boyfriend . . . My fiancé.’
‘Fiancé?’ Leo sounded put out even to his own ears.
‘You were right, Leo. It was time for us both to move on.’
‘Yes. Yes. Absolutely.’ Why was his mind crying out, ‘Oh no!’? He eyed Emma’s fiancé – good grief, he was bloody handsome, the bastard! Without knowing what he was doing, Leo held out his hand and pumped Emma’s fiancé’s hand enthusiastically.
‘Leo,’ he said to the twat on Emma’s arm. He looked loaded too. Fucker.
The fiancé gaped at Leo open-mouthed.
‘Stefan’s foreign,’ Emma interjected. ‘Bulgarian. He doesn’t speak very much English.’
He shook Leo’s hand and nodded vigorously. No glitter fell out of his hair. Arsehole.
His darling ex-Emma looked at Isobel and smiled sweetly. My word, she really had moved on. Leo had thought that she’d be wanting to scratch Isobel’s eyes out. Grant was right. He’d never understand women. ‘And this must be . . .?’
‘Isobel,’ Leo said. ‘This is Isobel.’
‘Charmed to meet you, I’m sure,’ Emma said pleasantly.
Isobel also did her sweetest smile. But thankfully, she said nothing and she didn’t whip out her wand to create untold havoc either.
They all stood and grinned at each other inanely. Leo was surprised at the ferocity of his emotion, but he really would have liked to punch that dickhead.
‘Well, this is very nice,’ Emma said with a happy little jump. ‘I’m so glad that we bumped into you.’ She gave Stefan the fuckwit’s arm a loving squeeze. ‘Can’t stand chatting though,’ she babbled on. ‘Stefan and I are going to choose a ring.’
‘A ring?’
‘Engagement ring,’ Emma said, confirming Leo’s worst fears.
‘Engagement ring.’ He could feel himself going purple. ‘Engagement ring?’
Emma’s eyes shone with love for this wanker. ‘It’s wonderful, isn’t it?’
Leo could quite honestly say that he couldn’t find any words to describe what he felt. He stood there, mouth gaping like the Blackwall Tunnel.
‘Take care, Leo,’ Emma said brightly.
‘And you.’ Leo felt that he should wish her well in her new life or something like that, but it wouldn’t come out. Nothing would.
‘Isobel.’ Emma nodded at his fairy friend. ‘Nice to meet you. Perhaps you could both come to the wedding.’
Wedding!
And then Emma was gone. Bouncing happily away, Bulgarian Git Face in tow.
Leo grabbed Isobel’s hand and dragged her down the street as fast as her legs could carry her.
‘What’s wrong, Leo?’ she asked breathlessly.
‘Nothing.’
‘Is it Emma?’
‘No.’
‘Is it those rings? There is a significance to them, isn’t there?’
‘No.’
The only significance was that all the years they were together, Emma and Leo had never got engaged and now five minutes later – five minutes! – she was slipping her finger into for ever. Flip. Leo could have kicked something. Flip. Double, double flip. He wondered if Isobel could magic him up a cat to kick.
I laugh as gaily and as loudly as I can manage without appearing insane. Glancing over my shoulder, I see that Leo is striding off in the other direction. Good. He’s out of harm’s way now. I feel like lying down and weeping – he’s so happy. They look perfect together and Isobel – her name is like dust in my mouth – is all tiny and girly and horribly nice. I really, really want to hate her. And, thankfully, I do.
I turn to my newly-acquired fiancé. ‘Well,’ I say briskly, ‘thanks for that.’ Reaching into my purse, I peel out a twenty-pound note. ‘For the sick animals.’ I hand it to the guy. ‘Bye.’
‘Wait. Wait,’ he says. ‘Actually, my name’s Jacob.’
‘Then thanks, Jacob,’ I say. ‘Sorry about the Stefan bit. It was the first thing that came to me.’
Jacob grins. ‘I’m not from Bulgaria either. I’m from Barnsley.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I repeat. ‘I was desperate.’
‘I quite enjoyed it. I don’t get much chance for subterfuge.’
‘Believe me, it’s vastly overrated.’ I turn to go.
‘Hey,’ he calls softly. ‘Seeing as we’re engaged, I wondered if you’d like to have dinner with me tonight?’
I spin on my heels. ‘Are you mad?’ I ask. ‘Didn’t you see the agony I just went through. He’s left me – for her! That twinkly little gorgeous person. Can’t you see I’m nursing a broken heart?’
Jacob stands open-mouthed. ‘I thought it might help you to forget him.’
‘How typical! We have been together for years,’ I tell him. ‘How am I ever going to forget him? Are all men so shallow?’
‘Does this mean the engagement’s off?’ Jacob wants to know.
‘I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on earth!’
And I stomp off down the high street, leaving Jacob clutching his twenty-pound note and looking very confused.
Chapter Thirty-Six
It was late and Leo couldn’t sleep. He’d tossed and turned for hours, to no avail. Leo had been thinking about babies and Emma and how, five minutes after having dumped him, she’d found someone else she wanted to marry. Leo decided that he was too naive for the ways of this world and his heart felt bruised by this latest turn of events.
A few short days ago he was such a happy soul with not a care to call his own. Now Leo had grey hairs sprouting amidst his glitter and a permanent frown on his brow. Isobel was making his life truly wonderful – albeit in a chaotic kind of way – and yet Leo felt so sad about all that Emma and he had missed out on. He thought about the things they could have done together, achieved together, if only they’d tried a little bit harder. He’d tried a little bit harder.
Beside him, his fairy friend was slumbering deeply. Leo passed his hand gently over her cheek, fretting that she was so delicate and vulnerable. Eventually, he decided that he might as well be up and worrying as lying down and doing it.
As he pottered into the kitchen, Leo noticed a pile of dishes sitting on the draining board.
‘Hi, guys.’
He opened the fridge to get a beer, purely for medicinal purposes. ‘Oh bollocks.’ Leo stopped in his own tracks. ‘I’m talking to my crockery.’
Isobel, drowsy and rubbing her eyes, came in behind him a few minutes later looking thoughtful. Leo waved a tin of beer at her, but she shook her head.
‘I was talking to the dishes,’ Leo said with a laugh.
‘I don’t think they speak English,’ Isobel replied. And Leo didn’t think that she was joking.
She sat down at the table and then picked at the grooves in the wood. ‘Couldn’t you sleep?’
Leo shook his head.
‘What are you thinking about?’
‘This and that,’ he answered dismissively.
‘She loves you a lot, d
oesn’t she?’
‘Emma?’ This was a surprise.
Isobel nodded. Leo sat down next to her and opened the beer. ‘I suppose so.’
‘And you love her very much too.’
‘I did,’ he said. ‘In my own way.’
‘So why didn’t it work out?’ She leaned sleepily against him.
Leo tasted the froth from the can as he contemplated his reply. ‘I could never live up to Emma’s ideals.’
‘Ideals?’
‘Emma’s pretty much a perfect human being. She’s got everything sorted. Well, she thinks so,’ he said without malice. ‘I’m not like that. I bumble my way through life, messing it up as I go. That wasn’t enough for her and I couldn’t change.’
‘Did you try?’
‘No,’ he admitted. Leo registered the note of sadness in his voice. ‘Not enough. It seemed too hard. Whatever I did was wrong, so I stopped trying. She expected too much from me.’
‘Like what?’
Leo sighed and slid down onto the table. ‘Like one of those sparkly rings.’
‘So they are important?’ Isobel’s eyes brightened. ‘I knew it.’
‘Yeah, well, they sort of mean that you’ll be together for ever. Well, not so much for ever these days, but that’s the gist.’
‘And you couldn’t promise Emma for ever?’
‘No,’ he confessed. It pained Leo to admit it, so he added flippantly, ‘It’s something that human blokes resist at all costs.’
‘Except for her new . . . fiancé,’ Isobel noted. ‘He offered for ever very quickly.’
‘Yes. A bit too bloody quick, if you ask me.’
‘I don’t think anyone did, Leo.’
‘No.’
She reached across and took Leo’s hand. ‘What does human love feel like?’
‘What does it feel like?’ Leo laughed. What a question! Describe love in less than one hundred words. ‘It makes your heart soar. It makes you feel all warm and tingly inside. It makes you laugh at the silliest little thing. It makes you want to fly. And it makes you think of the other person before yourself.’