Million Love Songs(93)

‘I haven’t really achieved anything. I haven’t been anywhere.’

Charlie realises that she’s not going to get any peace while I’m in this mood and sits upright, putting her sunglasses back in place. ‘Where do you want to go?’

‘I don’t know.’ I pick at my roasted vegetables, which have lost their appeal now. ‘I’ve thought about packing it all in and going to Spain.’

‘There’s nothing in Spain.’

‘There’s not much here.’ I think what I really want is to go anywhere that I’m not likely to bump into Joe and his family.

‘I’m here,’ she says. ‘You can’t leave me.’

‘Perhaps I could take a course. Studying something.’

‘What?’

I let out an unhappy breath. ‘I don’t know.’

Charlie laughs.

‘It’s OK for you,’ I say more crisply than I intend. ‘Gary Barlow is all that you need in your life, but I want more.’

‘What you mean is that you want Joe.’ She sighs at me. ‘Well, lovely, you can’t have him. That boat has already sailed.’

‘I could say the same about Gary. You devote your life to him, yet he’ll never be yours. How can that make you happy?’

‘He’s a fantasy,’ she says. ‘I know that. You know that. Part of the attraction is chasing that elusive dream. I don’t have to put up with his moods or do his dirty washing. I don’t have to listen to him moan or cook his dinner. I get Gary on my terms.’

‘It isn’t enough though, is it? Joe wasn’t a fantasy. He’s real-life flesh and blood. I want to be there for him when he’s a grumpy old bugger or has man flu. That’s what I want. And he was mine – if only for a fleeting moment.’

‘Now we’re both chasing what we can’t have,’ Charlie says and she sounds more sad than I’ve ever heard.

I hug her to me and kiss her cheek. ‘Now I’ve made you miserable too.’

‘You’ve made me think,’ she says. ‘That’s different. But damn you all the same.’

‘I guess we’ve just got to learn to be content with what we’ve got.’

‘You will get over him,’ Charlie says. ‘In time.’

‘I know.’ But I wonder how long that will take.





Chapter Eighty-Seven





It’s a few nights later when Mason turns up at the Butcher’s Arms. He catches my arm as I’m rushing past with three sharing platters for table six.

‘Can’t stop,’ I say. ‘They’ve been waiting ages for these.’

‘I’m sorry I haven’t seen you, Brown,’ he says. ‘Work. Business. Life.’

‘Me too. I’ll catch you later.’

‘Can you stay around when we close up?’

‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘I’ll put Ryan Gosling off.’ And I’m away to deliver my platters before my diners complain and cut my tip.

Then I spend the rest of the evening rushing round and don’t give Mason a second thought. I’m knackered and it’s late when we finish.

He’s helping to tidy up when I finally go through, stacking some glasses and setting out bottles on the bar. When he’s done, he turns the lights down low and, as all the other staff have gone, we have the place to ourselves.

‘You look knackered, Brown.’

‘I am knackered. But thanks for pointing it out.’

‘I have the very thing.’ He flips a glass in the air and catches it with a flourish.

‘Wow.’ I find the nearest armchair and park myself in it.

‘I’ve been on a bartending course,’ Mason says.

‘You didn’t mention it.’

‘I don’t tell you all my secrets.’ He does another fancy glass flip thing. I try not to look impressed, but I am. ‘I’m thinking of sending all the bartenders at the club on a course, so I thought I’d try it out myself first. It was great fun. There are things that I can do with ice that would make your hair curl. I’ve mastered the technique of free-pouring …’

I look at him blankly.

‘You don’t use measures and I can handle four bottles at once.’

‘Huh. I’ve been doing that with wine for years.’

Mason laughs at that. ‘Let me mix you something.’

‘I remember last time we had cocktails it ended very badly.’ I think I might never touch rum again.

‘I remember it ended with me having a bad back for days from sleeping on your rather small and inhospitable sofa.’

‘Ah. Sorry about that.’ And I am a bit as Mason was actually very nice that night.

‘Live dangerously,’ he urges. ‘We haven’t had a chance to see each other since then. I have stuff to tell you. Besides, it’s work. I’m thinking of putting some of these on the menu.’

‘My shift has officially ended. Does that mean I get overtime?’

‘Whatever you like, Brown. Just say yes.’

‘Taxi home too?’

‘It goes without saying.’

I give in and grin at him. ‘Yes.’ I’m on the evening shift for most of this week, so if it all goes Pete Tong then I can have a lie-in tomorrow morning. ‘You’re a bad influence on me, Mason Soames.’