Million Love Songs(58)

I chew my fingernails all week. Of course, I do. Every day I expect Joe to call and tell me that he’s having to cancel, that Gina isn’t going to take the kids at the weekend after all, that something else has come up that’s more important than our date. But he doesn’t.

Saturday arrives and The Big Date is still on. I’ve no idea what to wear. We’re going for a pizza, so the only party dress I own is immediately ruled out but all else is to play for. I rifle through all my clothes. ALL of them. My entire wardrobe is found wanting, so I make an emergency dash to Primarni. I’m flicking ever more frantically through the rails when my phone rings. It’s Charlie.

‘Hi, babe.’

‘I’m sick,’ Charlie croaks. ‘Really sick. Both ends.’

TMI.

‘I can’t cover your shift tonight, Ruby.’

‘Nooooooo,’ I cry down the phone.

‘Is that sympathy for my severe illness?’ she asks flatly, ‘or disappointment at having to ditch your hot date?’

‘Both,’ I say while I actually think What bloody awful timing.

‘I’ve called Jay,’ Charlie says. ‘I think I’m going to be out of it for a couple of days.’

I’m trying to feel solicitous, but inside I’m screaming. ‘Can I get you anything? I’m at the retail park at the moment.’ Trying to buy something hot for my now non-existent date. ‘Shall I swing by on the way home?’

‘No,’ she moans. ‘I’m just going to crawl back into my pit, pull the covers over my head and quietly die. I’m going to listen to Gary, so that if I do in fact die then he’ll be the last thing I hear.’

‘Drink lots of fluid,’ I try, helpfully. Though I’ve no idea if that’s really helpful. ‘I’ll call you in the morning. Not too early.’

‘Sorry to let you down,’ she says. ‘Gotta go. Bathroom calls again.’ She hangs up.

I stand in Primarni staring at my phone. Buggerbuggerbugger. What now? I look down and, true fact, I have the most perfect dress in my hand. It says fun, flirty but is chic too. Even better, it’s less than a tenner. I have to have it. And, more than that, I have to go on this date.

In the car park, new dress in my bag, I sit in my car, a mass of seething indecision. What’s more important: work or my love life? Then I make my mind up. What I’m about to do isn’t pretty. Please don’t judge me.

I call Jay. ‘I can’t come in tonight, Jay,’ I say, putting on a croaky voice much the same as Charlie’s. It’s a voice that says I have vomited too many times and may not have much longer on this mortal plane. ‘I’m really sorry.’

‘We’re desperate, Ruby,’ Jay says sounding like a man broken. ‘Charlie’s phoned in sick too.’

‘Has she?’ I feign innocence. ‘Must be a bug going round. Hope it’s not something we picked up in the kitchen.’ That will give him something bigger to think about. ‘I’ve got to go, Jay.’

‘OK. OK.’

I hang up. Blimey. What did I just do? I must really like this guy to lie to my boss so that I can see him. I’ve never done that before. I’m usually the most steadfast and reliable employee. I hate to hear Jay sound so harried, but they’ll cope. It’s not the first time it’s happened, though it’s not usually me and Charlie who are off sick. We are normally the stalwarts.

I drive home feeling more guilty than Mrs Guilty from Guiltytown. On my next shift I’ll work triple hard to make up for it. I’ll give all my tips to charity for a month. Well, maybe a week. Call it psychosomatic but I even begin to feel slightly nauseous.

Still, I put my duplicity to the back of my mind, have a long, luxurious bath, shave all the important little places, moisturise until I’m like an oil slick and wash my hair, lashing in the coconut conditioner so that I’ll smell like an extra-tasty tropical cocktail.

I’m just about finishing my make-up when my doorbell rings and my heart jumps to my mouth. It’s only six o’clock. I like a punctual man but surely he can’t be this early. I check my watch to make sure that it hasn’t stopped. While I’m basking in indecision, the bell rings again – with a slightly more impatient tone. As I haven’t time to get dressed, I pull my dressing gown over my undies and head to the door.

Instantly, I recognise the outline of my visitor through the glass pane and it isn’t Joe. It is, however, Mason Soames.

Damn.

‘Open the door, Brown,’ he says. ‘I come bearing gifts for the sick.’

Oh, shit. Mason’s the last person on earth that I’d expect to come visiting. I press myself against the wall, hoping that he hasn’t spotted me too.

I stand and hyperventilate for a bit. What do I do? I can hardly pretend that I’m not here when I’m supposed to be in my sick bed.

‘Brown!’ he shouts again. ‘Have you died? Let me in.’

Eventually, reluctantly, and simply because I have no other choice, I open the door a fraction and peep out. A wave of embarrassment engulfs me. Now I do actually feel hot all over and more than a bit clammy. ‘Hi,’ I croak.

He looks at me suspiciously. ‘Jay has called in the cavalry tonight,’ he says. ‘Both you and Charlie have gone down with something, so I’ve cancelled my prior arrangements and I’m riding to the rescue. Thought I’d drop in some essentials on the way.’ He holds up a basket covered with cellophane and tied with a ribbon. ‘Flowers, fruit, carton of soup, Immodium.’