‘I think it’s run its course. I’m almost out of stuff to write about. Maybe it’s time to give NiceGirl her happy-ever-after and let her walk off into the sunset.’
‘Well, you might want to consider the timing of that. Publication is scheduled for next spring…’
Next spring sounded so far away. Claire wondered what her life would be like then. Would she be with Mark? Could he really be her Mr Right?
Claire had tried to sex up her wardrobe a bit for her visit, but she was glad she hadn’t strayed too far out of her comfort zone as she dressed for dinner that night. She was nervous enough as it was. She felt like she was going on afirst date. But her little lace shift dress was a happy compromise – sexy, but not so blatant that it made her uncomfortable.
The restaurant was a cosy little neighbourhood bistro, where Mark was obviously well-known, and she relaxed as they chatted over the delicious food and wine. She wondered what date they were on now as she sipped coffee. This definitely felt like a date, but she wasn’t sure if last night counted – or did the whole weekend count as one? It was on the tip of her tongue to ask Mark, but then she remembered what Yvonne had said: ‘We have all the power.’ It was her rule, so it was up to her to decide what counted. She didn’t want things to move too fast – she still had a lot to learn.
‘Well, this definitely feels like a date,’ she said lightly. ‘But I don’t think I can count the cemetery – lovely as it was.’
Mark smiled. ‘What about last night?’
‘A night in?’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘That’s what old married couples do, so I don’t think I can count it.’
‘Even a night in with world-famous nachos?’
‘Even then. Sorry.’
‘Damn,’ he said, but he didn’t seem put out.
Claire suddenly felt like she really did have all the power, and it felt nice.
Mark took her hand as they walked the short distance back to his flat.
‘Nightcap?’ he offered, when they were inside.
‘Yes, please.’
He poured them both some Amaretto and they sat side by side on the sofa.
‘Well, here’s to second dates,’ he said, clinking his glass with hers, but instead of drinking, he leant in and kissed her.
At least kissing was something she knew how to do, so Claire put her free arm around his neck and kissed him back enthusiastically. His lips felt warm and soft, and he was a good kisser. His eyes were dark as he pulled away. They both took a sip of their drinks, then simultaneously placed their glasses on the coffee table and started kissing again, sweet, almond-flavoured kisses.
She recognised the almost imperceptible shift, like a gear change, when Mark’s breathing deepened and things became more heated. This was the point where Luca would start pulling at her clothes, when his hands would become urgent on her body, and she would get impatient for the feel of his skin against hers. Her hand reached out instinctively to unbutton Mark’s shirt, but she stopped herself, instead placing it firmly on his chest and moving away.
Mark sighed as he sat back and picked up his drink again. He smiled at her lazily, his eyes on her lips, then tossed back the rest of his Amaretto. ‘Time for bed, I think,’ he said ruefully, and just for a moment Claire wished she was going with him. But it was too soon. Instead, she went to bed alone, slightly frustrated and feeling guilty for wishing Luca was there to finish what Mark had started.
18
On Monday Claire was meeting Catherine for a drink after work. She was just arriving at the Temple Bar pub when Catherine came up the street pushing Paddington in yet another new buggy.
‘Hi.’ Catherine greeted Claire with a quick kiss on the cheek. ‘Just let me get rid of this thing before we go in.’ She lifted Paddington out of the buggy and hunkered down to stuff him into a large holdall she had in the bottom, zipping it up.
‘Will he be all right in there?’ Claire asked.
‘Oh, he’ll be fine,’ Catherine said, as she straightened. ‘He’s used to it. I get funny looks if I bring him into a bar.’
‘Well, it’s handy you can stuff him into a bag without anyone calling Social Services.’
‘I know. I’m blessed,’ she said distractedly, as she struggled with the buggy, pulling levers and kicking it as she tried to get it to fold.
‘Oh, sod this,’ she said, lifting it and whacking it down on the pavement in frustration. She looked around them at the crowd milling through the busystreet. Then her eyes lit on a woman slumped against the side of a building, sitting on a blanket, begging from passers-by.
‘Do you think she’d like a state-of-the-art pushchair?’ she asked Claire. Without waiting for an answer, she ran across to the woman, pushing it in front of her. Claire watched as they spoke. There was a lot of gesticulating, and it looked like they were having an argument. Finally, Catherine bent down and put something in the woman’s hand, then left the buggy with her and came back to Claire.
‘Well, it was a hard sell, but I managed to get rid of it,’ she said. ‘She only wanted a fiver to take it off my hands.’ She picked up the holdall. ‘Right, shall we go?’
