Xander pretty much moved in after the wedding and we barely saw another person for a whole, divine week, banishing any thought of bunny boiler exes or what happened in Year Eleven. Things were so good he'd even agreed to go to shopping in Carlisle. The dress code for the Forfeit Halloween dinner was 'Black' and I hadn't a thing to wear on my feet. With lunch including a couple of glasses of Rioja, I'd had the loveliest afternoon wandering around the shops, eventually finding footwear nirvana. Even Xander had grudgingly admired the absolute perfection of the black python Gucci knee-boots.
In the kitchen, he handed me a large glass of wine, trying not to laugh at my underwear and Ugg boots combo. Not the best look, I'll admit.
'You are the best boy...'
Xander raised his eyebrows expectantly. 'Say it.'
'You are the best not-boyfriend a girl could have.'
He slapped my backside, still watching me with utter amusement while he listened to his phone messages. I knocked back a healthy slug of unoaked Chardonnay and flicked through our purchases. My dress, his shirt, his jacket, books, make-up... where the hell were my boots? I tugged Xander's arm. Fifteen hundred pounds of footwear had to be found, please get off the phone.
'Xander, where are my boots?'
'I put everything from the car by the table,' he said, covering his ear to listen to his phone.
Frustrated, I performed another futile search of the bags. I didn't miraculously find the boots but a twinkle did catch my attention. Just visible under the fridge was my belly bar daisy. Thank God. I'd lost it three days ago and hadn't dared tell Xander.
With no regard for my state of undress, I ran out to the car. No boots. OMG. How on earth had I lost them? They were in a huge box, in a big bag. Shop, pub, car. The pub. I dived inside and, digging out the receipt for the drinks, I dialled the number on the bottom, playing with the daisy. The barman finally answered but said there was nothing left in the bar.
'I've lost my boots,' I wailed as Xander finally got off the phone.
'Don't be silly, we only went from the shop to the pub. How could you lose them?' He realised he wasn't helping. 'Oh come on, you can get a new pair tomorrow.'
'I don't want new ones tomorrow.' Red alert, red alert, irrational woman alert. 'I want those ones, tonight.'
'They're just boots, bloody expensive boots but still.' He looked me over again with a growing smile. 'Want me to take your mind off them?'
'No,' I lied. 'We'll be late.'
He shrugged and threw me over his shoulder. Hello, Mr Caveman.
Oak Bank, Xander had already warned me, was probably the swankiest, most discreet boutique hotel in the country with one of the best menus. I wasn't sure any of that was entirely true, but I couldn't fault its über-cool charms. The recently renovated seventeenth century country house was kitted out with innovative, local artisan furniture - rustic oak tables were adorned with roofing slate plates and simple crystal glasses. Even the pumpkin lanterns littered around the place looked hand-carved by a master craftsman. The hotel oozed class, impeccable taste and a soupcon of frivolity. Framed mirrors, each no bigger than a postcard, covered the corridor leading to the restaurant - you could check your individual body parts but not all of them at the same time. I adored the place.
'Come on, we're already late,' I said, giggling as Xander studied his reflection, smoothing a barely noticeable kink in his centimetre-long hair. I'd never seen him preen. 'I can't believe you're wearing those scruffy jeans to this place.' His top half was smart in a crisp black shirt and black cashmere sweater but the bottom half was mid-wash denim, very tatty mid-wash denim. He shot me a wink. The boy looked a billion dollars and he bloody knew it. 'OMG, you're as vain as me. I'd never twigged.'
He handed his jacket to the receptionist and took one last look in a mirror. 'I have to stand next to you, Fitzgerald. I'd hate to let the side down.'
He looked me over, smiling. My mid-thigh LBD had long sleeves and a high neck, earning his utter disapproval until he'd seen how it draped open at the back, leaving the top of my neck to the very base of my spine entirely naked. He remembered the red top I'd worn back in August. That had been my plan.
The others were already seated in high-backed oak chairs, knocking back aperitifs and looking at us with despairing eyes. Oh, so we were a bit late. Who cared? But my nonchalant smile faltered when Xander trailed a finger all the way down my spine, just like he'd done the night I wore the red top. I had to employ every milligram of self-control to keep smiling and not melt on the spot.
Tabitha looked me over. 'Fabulous dress and I love the boots, sweetie.'
The four inch black Louboutin ankle boots were awesome but they weren't the boots I'd lost three hours ago, I explained.
'Now some undeserving wench will be zipping up my black python Gucci knee-boots.' I sulked for a moment but imagined Marcus' evil glare and forced a smile. I wouldn't prove him right.
There were ten of us for the dinner. Marcus and James had brought a pair of Polish models, Lidia and Truda. Both seemed pleasant enough but with limited English, appetite and intellect - they made me look like a greedy genius and feel wildly superior. Better still Xander didn't look twice at them. He'd looked once but I'd allow him - he was male after all. To my surprise, James kept sending Truda flirty smiles and suggestive looks. Maybe he wasn't quite as gay as I'd thought.
Tabitha's date was Bruno, a piece of Italian eye-candy who didn't speak a word of English but I did look twice at. He and Tabitha, who surprisingly spoke Italian, spent most of the night whispering in the other's ear. Occasionally, Xander and Marcus would suppress giggles and I realised they could both understand Italian, another surprise.
Daniel Campbell was in situ with his constant glass topping habit and despite bringing Flick Andrews, a food columnist, he still put too much effort into flirting with me. Xander's arm spent an inordinate amount of time draped over the back of my chair - marking his territory, I suppose. I loved and hated it in equal measure.
With Flick the Foodie, Xander the Chef, and being at Oak Bank, much of the talk wittered about food. I loved hearing Xander so enthused, but all the discussion of local produce and seasonality bored the pants off me. I ducked out for as many cigarettes as I dared - Daniel joining me for as many as I couldn't avoid.
'You seem happier. Still loved up with the youngster?' He lit my cigarette and leaned back in his chair.
'Not loved up, just using him for sex, remember?' I smiled. 'Too soon for anything more.'
He looked pleased. 'Understandable. He'll be an excellent stepping stone.'
I scowled at the suggestion. 'He's going to kill me for sneaking all these fags but if I have to listen to your bloody date twitter lyrical about the sublime seasoning for much longer, I will kill someone with my soup spoon.' I smiled. 'You won't tell her I said that, will you?'
He laughed. 'No, I'm half tempted to tell her I said it. The food is fantastic but they've been talking about the perfect balance of flavours for an hour.'
We headed back inside, giggling like naughty children, to find the waiters ready to pounce with the next course. Oysters. They needn't have bothered waiting for me.
I pushed my plate away. 'I've tried and I don't like.'
Lidia nodded. 'Me too. I'd rather blow a dog.'
There were several choking noises and everyone howled with laughter - everyone except Flick. Either she didn't approve of the comment or she was busy thinking if she could get 'blow a dog' in her next column. While the others ate, I fished a notepad from my bag and turned to Marcus who was sitting on my right. Time to show Mr MDG I'd done my homework.
'I made notes, as promised,' I said, loving the smile almost starting at the corners of his mouth as I told him what I'd thought of the wine he'd supplied.
Okay, I was no Jilly Goolden but at least I'd proved I wasn't just necking the stuff. He ate his seafood snot, listening intently, occasionally nodding or frowning at my comments. Finally, he leant back in his chair and smiled.
'You sound like a ten year-old describing jelly and ice-cream, but okay. The Shiraz is a tad spicy, I agree.' He poured me more of the Pinot Gris we were drinking. 'What fruits are in here?'
I smelled and tasted as he'd taught me. 'Grapefruit...'
'And?'
I had no idea. Gutted wasn't the word.
'Tropical fruits. You smoke too much. You're killing your taste buds, tesoro.'
Tesoro? Really? It meant treasure in Italian. I tried not to smile. 'My dead husband's mum to used call him tesoro. Are you actually Italian?'
He scowled, undoubtedly because I'd understood his term of endearment. 'Yes. Well, my mum is. Now, in the cases I sent, there's a rather nice 2008 Riesling. Appreciate it, please.' He turned back to Lidia - our wine chat over but he was warming to me.
Xander lowered his head to mine. 'Do you know Marcus is the only male you don't flirt with? You never have.'
Why not? With his Italian model-worthy looks, Marcus ought to be right up my street.
'Are we going to do these bloody dares or not?' I asked, poised for my last spoonful of dessert - a meadowsweet mousse with blackcurrant granite. The dessert was so impossibly light, I'd devoured mine and happily let Xander feed me his.
'Let's do it.' James dropped the money on the table.
'I had to place a thousand pound bet,' I explained, throwing my betting slip and dare card onto the table.
'Did you win, sweetie?' Tabitha tinkled with laughter.
'Did I hell. Manhattan Madness romped home last. If I'd have taken my friend Ryan's advice, I'd have made a fortune.'
'That's bullshit,' James said, finally acknowledging I was in the room. 'You've just written that.'
'I have a witness if anyone doesn't believe me.' I shot him a withering look. I'd picked up more than wine tasting from Marcus. 'Ryan took me to the bookies. I loved it. I could develop quite a habit. What did you do, James?'
He looked Truda in the eye and tossed his dare card on the table. 'I had to seduce someone and bring them here, then tell that someone to piss off.'
There wasn't an ounce of feeling in his eyes and, while I doubt Truda was expecting a long-term relationship from James, she visibly crumpled before us then fled. Lidia stood up and swore at James in Polish, or maybe it was some Romany-based curse. Here's hoping.
'Did you have to piss off my date too?' Marcus sank his drink.
'Wow, James.' I leant back in my chair. 'Treating a girl like crap? What a nightmare that must've been for you.'
He looked back at me without the slightest trace of remorse. 'Piss off, Daisy-chain.'
'Bite me, Jamie.'
Xander told me to behave before turning to have a quiet word with a very petulant James. We really were acting like children. What on earth would sane outsiders make of all this? I glanced at Daniel, expecting Flick and him to be watching with disdainful expressions. Instead, they were smiling at James. Did they find it funny?
Tabitha gently chinked a knife against her glass to gain everyone's attention. 'Are we all finished worrying about emaciated Eastern-bloc models?' She became the perfect game show host's assistant and held up a small box. Out of it, she took a familiar glass vase. 'James?'
He frowned. 'It's my Lalique vase.'
The vase I'd unwrapped in July on his not-birthday.
'Value?' The game show assistant displayed the vase for us all to see.
'Fifteen hundred, maybe two grand.'
Tabitha popped it back in the box then produced a small hammer out of her handbag. 'Count of three? One...'
James eyes widened. 'Don't you dare. It's a Lalique, for Christ's sake. And it's mine.'
'Two...' Tabitha winked at him. 'Three.' She squealed with laughter as she hit the vase.
James winced and stared in horror at the broken glass. Break a girl's heart and he couldn't care less but break a vase and he's appalled? Gay and in denial.
'Marcus? What did you do?' Tabitha asked, still giggling.
Marcus waved a dismissive hand. 'I didn't do mine.'
Shock and disbelief passed around the table like a Mexican wave.
He shrugged, clearly unrepentant. 'The dare was to take an illegal narcotic I haven't done before.' Xander smiled knowingly, and Marcus turned to me, grinning. 'Unlike you idiots, I don't do drugs.'
I saluted him. There was a lot more to Marcus Dowson-Gunn than I'd ever given credit.
'Loser,' Tabitha said, giving her most saccharine smile. 'Xander?'
He left the room but returned seconds later carrying a large cardboard box he must've stashed in the car while I'd dressed. Notably, he didn't come back to his seat but hovered at the opposite side of the table.
'I had to steal something worth more than a grand.' He opened the box, lifting out...
'My black python Gucci knee-boots.' I squealed. 'You bastard. You stole my boots. Bring them here.'
'Promise you won't hit me?'
'No.' I laughed, kicking off the Louboutin ankle boots before I opened the Gucci box as a new mother would unwrap their newborn.
'Boots? Over a grand?' James shook his head.
'Fifteen hundred, actually,' Xander explained.
'That girl has too much bloody money,' James said, 'and that is rich coming from me.'
I zipped up my boots and lifted a leg in the air to show them off. 'Sublime, perfectly balanced boots.' I sent Daniel a cheeky wink. 'And worth every single penny.'
Xander kissed my leg before leaning back in his chair, lazily grinning at me and it all made sense. This was why he'd thrown me over his shoulder. And why he had a glass of wine already poured. He was distracting me. I touched the daisy belly bar through my dress.
'Did you steal the daisy belly bar?' I asked, thoroughly suspicious.
He nodded. 'But stealing your boots was more fun so I left the daisy for you to find.'
'But... this is worth over a grand?' The petals were moonstone but in the centre was what I'd assumed a Swarovski crystal or similar. If it cost over a grand it had to be a diamond, a big diamond. 'Is it real?'
He dropped a kiss on my lips. 'As if I'd give you anything that wasn't.'
'So who wins round two?' Tabitha asked, her eyes glinting with hope.
'Not you.' James threw a sugar lump at her. 'Xander.'
We all nodded in agreement.
'Thank you, thank you. I shall fritter it wisely.' Xander took the money off James.
'Bugger, I've thrown away two grand,' I said.
'I've lost a grand and a vase.' James sent another foul look to Tabitha.
'Game over?' Xander asked as he flicked through the pile of notes. 'No round three, agreed?'
'Yes,' Tabitha purred. 'I mean, ten grand stakes, sweetie? It's over.'
James and Marcus nodded.
I'd actually enjoyed doing my dare. Gambling was a bit of harmless, thrill-seeking fun. Although, what James did to Truda couldn't be described as fun. Xander was right. This had gone far enough.
'Game over,' I agreed.
Jonty, the head chef, came to say hello as coffee was served and Xander stood up to boy-hug his old work colleague and drinking buddy. The rest of Xander's friends were ridiculously public school but Jonty was a Geordie and I warmed to him instantly because of it. There was much adoration for the food, service and wine before Jonty offered Xander a job, which he rejected with a polite laugh. The conversation paused when Jonty's phone rang - he had the same Paolo Nutini ringtone as Xander. The Bethany Palmer ringtone. The past was never far away.
I dropped my dubious looking Passion Fruit Cloud Lollipop into my coffee and went out for a cigarette. Through the window, I watched as Jonty went around the table. He chatted amiably with each guest but his eyes never left the second person he'd said hello to - Tabitha bloody Doyle. He gazed at her while he shook James' hand and she smiled her Elmlea smile. She knew. And Jonty didn't look star struck, he looked in love. Oh dear.
'Amusing, isn't it?' Marcus said as he joined me. 'It's not a new thing. Jonty's fancied her for years. Of course, last time he met her, he was a lowly sous chef.'
I mustered a smile for Marcus.
'What's up?' he asked.
Why are you being nice? I took a deep breath. 'Bethany Palmer told me what happened.'
'I see. You do know Xander likes you, really likes you?'
'He says so.' I studied Marcus. 'What's he said to you?'
'Nothing.' Marcus shook his head. 'Honestly, nothing but he doesn't need to. You were there the morning after James' party. You're the only girl we've ever seen the next day. Daisy, he may have shagged around in the past but he's not who you think he is.'
'I thought you didn't like me.'
He shrugged, glancing away and trying not to smile.
Oh my God. 'You don't really hate me, do you?'
'Don't push your luck. I meant every word I said but...' He glanced over at Xander. 'He's been looking for someone like you for a long time. When you admit you love him, tesoro, ask me again.'
I smiled as Xander came outside. Had he really been looking for someone like me? Really?
*** Author Note ***
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