All Bets Are On (11 page)

Turning the TV off, he settled back on the bed, picked up his mobile and dialled Alice’s home number.

* * *

Back to the old routine of box set, tea and biscuits and Kevin the cat snuggled up to her. Just as if her new foray into dating had never even happened. Surely it should feel like slipping back into a very comfortable pair of old slippers?

It felt like a bed of nails.

Why
did she feel so damned antsy? So on edge? Alice Ford was now a slave to her so-called experimental relationship. Whoever the hell was in charge here, it wasn’t her. And all because she’d allowed the project to get physical.

Only now, looking back, did she see how much her past relationships had been about sex. She’d wanted to believe they were about so much more—respect, love, the dream of long-term commitment. She’d convinced herself of that, putting all her trust in Simon. Yet in hindsight she could see how fast-moving it had all been. How she’d mistaken the fast physical intensity of it for love.

Simon
wouldn’t have passed up the chance to push last night’s kiss forward as far as it would go, ideally into the house and into bed. Their relationship had been full-on physical almost from the outset and now she knew that had been the whole point of it for Simon. In the face of that, the deliberate gentleness and then withdrawal of Harry yesterday, the obvious message being that this
wasn’t
full speed ahead, was such a contrast to her expectations that it made her head spin.

And then there was today at work to think about. Her mind revisited it constantly, gnawed at it. She hadn’t counted on things with Harry being such fun. She’d been so weighed down for the longest time by making an impression at work, furthering her career, that one day had drudgingly resembled the next for months now. Having him around meant she never knew what was coming and it made her feel edgy and alive. She liked feeling that way.

Was all this Harry’s deliberate game plan aimed at gaining her trust? Was he playing it clever by going slow because he knew she’d been hurt in the past, or was there more to it than that? They’d made a real connection yesterday talking about family and she wanted to believe he felt that too. Yet to put her trust in him on the strength of gut feeling would be crazy.

Gut feeling was not reliable. She’d learned that the hard way.

The phone rang and she turned the volume down on the TV and casually picked it up. Probably one of Tilly’s friends.

‘Hello?’

‘I thought you were going out and forging ahead with your new social life,’ Harry said.

Her heartbeat kicked into action so quickly it almost felt as if she could hear it in her head. She sat back down on the sofa and took a calming sip of her tea.

‘Bit of a long day today, so in the end I thought I’d have a night in,’ she said, as if she had a massive circle of friends and hadn’t spent the last three years right here on this sofa. ‘How’s Manchester?’

‘Boring without you,’ he said.

A flush of heat pulsed through her.

‘Yeah right,’ she said in a pull-the-other-one voice. It was already past ten-thirty; he’d clearly been out for the evening.

‘Is that so hard to believe? I had dinner with the client earlier and I could have gone on to a club but instead I’ve come back to this excuse for a hotel room.’

‘Bit tired, are you?’

He sighed.

‘Why does everything have to have an ulterior motive with you? Is it so impossible to believe that I might just prefer getting to know you better to getting wasted out on the town?’

‘Yes.’

He deepened his voice cheekily. ‘What are you wearing?’

She removed the phone from her ear and stared at it in disbelief.

Phone sex? Really?

Why was she even surprised? He’d probably been out, failed to find a suitable one-night stand, and thought trying for long-distance sex with her might be worth a go. It was the perfect way for him to move things forward between them without taking the slightest risk. He probably thought he could talk her up into such a frenzy that she’d be gagging to sleep with him the moment he got back. She grinned to herself and put the phone back to her ear.

She’d soon see how keen he really was.

‘Tartan pyjama bottoms, an old T-shirt and bunny slippers,’ she said. ‘I’m on the sofa with a cup of tea and the biscuit tin and I’m watching a box set with Kevin.’

‘Kevin?’

‘The cat.’

A pause. She wondered if he’d hung up. Or possibly fainted.

‘Not what you were expecting?’ she prompted.

‘The usual kind of answer I get might be something a bit more silky. Or possibly even nothing.’

God, how tragic that these girls would say anything to please him.

‘Sorry to disappoint you,’ she said. ‘I’m not your
usual
kind of girl.’

‘No, you’re definitely not that.’

She tried to fathom the meaning of that sentence from the tone of his voice but without seeing his expression it was impossible to know if he meant it in a good or bad way. She shook her head lightly to bring back some perspective because she really shouldn’t care either way.

‘If you think I’m about to have phone sex with you, you’re sadly mistaken,’ she said.

She was sure she could hear a smile in his voice.

‘Shame. It could be such fun. And totally risk-free.’

Her stomach gave a slow and far-too-enjoyable flip. But nothing could induce her to put herself out there so openly with someone again.

‘For all I know you could tape the call,’ she said. ‘I’m not about to have verbal sex when I could find myself turned into your ringtone.’

She’d learned from the past. Telephone calls could be taped. Photographs could be shared. Intimacy could be violated.

A stunned silence.

‘You can’t be serious.’ His tone was utterly incredulous. ‘I’d never do that. What do you take me for?’

‘Really?’

He sounded shocked.

‘I’ve never known anyone so paranoid. What the hell happened to you to make you think I’d be capable of that?’

‘Careful, not paranoid,’ she corrected. ‘Your reputation precedes you.’

‘Could you give it a rest on my reputation?’ he snapped suddenly. ‘I’ve told you before, I’m straight with people and I never cheat. I just...don’t like to get too involved.’

‘And how long do you think you can carry on living like that without burning out?’

‘Living like what?’

‘You act like a perpetual student, no sense of responsibility to others.’

‘I’m just making the most of my freedom. No more, no less. There’s nothing wrong with that.’

‘So back in Bath with your sister and your mum you were deprived of all-night benders and one-night stands and you’re making up for it now, is that it?’

A pause.

‘That’s one way of looking at it.’

She thought she could hear caution in his voice, but she warmed to her subject, taking a big mouthful of tea ready to give him a piece of her mind.

‘You feel like you’re owed that kind of single social life and you’re damn well going to have it, regardless of whether or not you’re having a good time? That’s just crazy.’

‘I
am
having a good time. And I’m not the only one who’s distanced themselves from family. What about you?’ he said, turning the tables.

‘That’s different. Yes, my family are a nightmare. I try to restrict my mother to small doses for the sake of my own sanity. Her latest boyfriend is younger than me. And I’m just not that close to my father. But not all of it was disastrous. Up until I was about ten there were lots of good times. Seaside holidays. We used to go to the coast and my dad would take me crab fishing off the rocks at low tide. And we’d picnic on the beach. It’s easy to just remember the bad stuff but there was a lot of good too. And at Christmas the whole family would get together, aunts, cousins, everyone.’

She felt a rush of sweet nostalgia as she remembered her childhood home crammed full of people.

‘The whole thing collapsed because my parents had no staying power, no desire to work things out. They just threw in the towel on their relationship at the first sign of trouble. That’s why disposable relationships aren’t my thing. I won’t make that mistake. I’m not afraid of commitment.’

She shoved away the nagging thought that perhaps her determination to hang grimly on to Simon and work at things had led to her coming off as a bit of a doormat. After all, she hadn’t snatched the camera away from him, had she? Simon had argued that no one had
forced
her to pose for pictures. It was a thought she was used to pushing away. To acknowledge it would be to mess with blame and she’d spent the last three years apportioning that entirely to him.

‘So you’re not afraid to get serious, you’re just afraid to take a chance on someone from the outset,’ he pointed out.

‘That’s the drawback,’ she said. ‘I haven’t really been a good judge of character when it comes to men. I’m trying to get past that now because I want the dream, whereas you’ve put the whole concept of family behind you without even trying. Tell me about
your
childhood. There must have been some good stuff.’

The memory of a holiday, way back in the depths of his past, flashed into Harry’s mind.

‘Way back, maybe,’ he said. ‘We went camping one time. When Susie was tiny and my father was still with us. I climbed every tree I could find and we cooked over a campfire.’

A weekend. Filed away so deeply he never referenced it any more. His father had put an end to times like that. Had built them up and then knocked them down. And who was to say Harry was made of more committed stuff than that? She was right, families needed staying power and longevity and he hadn’t exactly found that came easily to him so far. He couldn’t risk becoming his father somewhere down the line, building up a happy family and then becoming suffocated by them and dropping them like a stone. Easier never to go there at all.

‘There you go, then,’ she said. ‘Not all bad.’

‘Not all. But enough.’

‘What about Christmas? What do you do then?’

‘I cook dinner. For Susie and my mother.’

This year he thought he might give that a miss too and stay put in London.

She failed to keep the surprise out of her voice.

‘You can cook?’

‘Again, your disbelief could be seen as insulting. Yep. Roast turkey, all the trimmings.’

‘What else?’

‘Stir-fries, curries, stews. Anything really.’

‘From scratch?’

‘You make me sound like a moron. Yes from scratch. What about you?’

‘I do great sandwiches.’

‘So we’re perfect for each other. You can do the lunches, I’ll do the dinners.’

This was more familiar ground. He let himself relax. They moved on from food to favourite films, TV shows, music. Bucket-list places they wanted to visit and things they wanted to do and try. His childhood ambition to be a famous cartoonist, hers to be Prime Minister.

Alice’s DVD had long since finished. As she finally put the phone down it occurred to her that her eyes felt scratchy with lack of sleep and she was getting cold. She realised that the central heating had clicked off ages ago.

Time had somehow slipped under her radar while they talked, as if he’d captured her attention so completely that it had become irrelevant. She became aware that the quality of the light in the room was different. Almost imperceptibly, dawn was filtering in through the curtains and Kevin was changing from sleepy couch potato in the small of her back to morning-alert.

They’d ended up chatting for hours. Where the hell had the night gone? And what the hell was she doing?

However she looked at it, she’d gone way beyond the necessity of her project. Dating Harry was becoming less about being a task and more about enjoying herself. And she really wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

* * *

Tired from the all-night phone call, Harry worked his way through the morning’s meeting with what felt like cotton-wool in his brain, fighting the constant return of his thoughts to Alice. Tiredness was all it was, he insisted to himself. A good night’s sleep in his own bed and he’d be ready to face her at the office on his usual detached terms.

It was still lunchtime at Innova when Harry got back to the office and he looked around for Alice, thinking maybe he could take her somewhere for coffee and a sandwich. He was a bit concerned at how much pleasure that thought gave him.

He checked the kitchen, thinking she might be there, and didn’t make it out again.

* * *

Alice stashed her meeting notes on her desk and went to grab her yogurt and banana from the fridge. She glanced at Harry’s empty desk as she passed, a tight knot of nerves in the pit of her stomach. Still no sign of him returning from Manchester. And then as if on cue she rounded the corner and saw him across the office, standing in the doorway of the tiny staff kitchen. Her stomach gave a gigantic leap in response that faded to a damp squib of a flutter as she took in the scene.

He was wearing a beautifully cut dark blue suit and a blonde woman.

Her heart performed an unexpected lurch as she did a double-take. He wore the suit in his usual laconic style—top button undone and tie loosened—and, whoever she was, she was holding the lapel of his jacket in an urgent grip and talking earnestly to him.

Alice’s shocked eyes slowly processed the details as she walked closer. Was he cheating on her? She was stunned by the wave of disappointment in that thought. After talking to him for hours, getting to know him, she’d actually begun to question all her prejudices about him. As she got closer she vaguely recognised the girl as one of the marketing assistants. Harry’s hands were in his pockets and he was shaking his head.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ the girl was saying, her upturned face imploring and her attention entirely focused on Harry. ‘I can see now I was pushing things along too quickly, and that’s so not what I wanted.’

‘Right,’ Harry said. She saw him try to take a step back but the woman had his jacket in a vice-grip. He glanced up and jumped visibly as he caught sight of Alice next to the photocopier.
Guilty conscience?
She raised her eyebrows and gave him a smile, injecting as much sarcasm into it as she could muster.