Learning curves (26 page)

EPILOGUE

“So did Jack tell you about Brian?”

Jen listened idly to the two men standing nearby as she waited for Daniel outside the church.

“Brian-who-shags-everything-that-moves Brian? No, no I don’t think so.”

“The very same. Oh, man, you’re going to love this then. So, six months ago he’s been out at this company bash, a late night, he’s maybe overdone it a little on the Bacardi Breezers, if you know what I’m saying. Tried to go home with Carly from Mergers, but she told him where to go. Anyway, he’s on his way home when he decides he needs to take a leak. Like, he really needs to. So he convinces the taxi to stop, he jumps out, and he’s there, taking a leak down an alley when he’s mugged by this group of young guys.”

“No!”

“Really! And they don’t just take his money—they take all his clothes, too. They leave him with his keys, that’s all. Which is nice of them really. I mean, it could be worse, right?”

“I guess . . .”

“Okay, but it doesn’t end there. See, he gets home to his apartment building and he finds his wife outside, all packed up ready to go. And when he asks her what she’s doing there, she tells him that she doesn’t want to see him anymore because she’s been sleeping with his best friend for a year.”

Jen frowned. She’d heard this story before. If she wasn’t very much mistaken, it was the story that had led her to Daniel, all those months ago. And led her into the men’s room, of course. Still, hopefully now she’d actually get to find out what happened.

“You’re kidding!”

“No, I’m deadly serious. And he’s standing there, in his underpants, and fortunately she wants the cab so she agrees to pay his fare too, but when he goes to open the door he finds that she’s double locked it. He doesn’t have the key. So he decides to go round to see the friend. Only he’s got to drive there as he hasn’t got any money . . .”

“You look lovely. But what are you doing skulking around here? I’ve been looking for you.”

Jen looked up at Daniel, who was in his morning suit and looked more gorgeous than she’d ever seen him. As he leaned down to kiss her, she heard Jack and his friend wander off toward the church and sighed in irritation.

“Now I’m never going to find out what happened to Brian,” she said in exasperation.

Daniel looked at her oddly and she rearranged her tightly boned dress to enable her to breathe.

“Who’s Brian?”

Jen grinned. “I have no idea. Look, I’m sorry, I was just eavesdropping. You look pretty nice too, by the way.”

He nodded gallantly. “Are you going to be okay walking down the aisle in that thing? It looks hideously uncomfortable.”

Jen shrugged. “I don’t exactly have much choice, do I? You can’t imagine Mum was exactly open to my ideas, can you?”

“Don’t be too hard on her,” Daniel said as he leaned down to give her another kiss. “It is her wedding day, after all.”

“Let’s just hope she gets here, shall we?” Jen suggested. Harriet wasn’t known for her organizational skills, and as chief bridesmaid, Jen had planned to arrive with her, making sure she got there on time. But, of course, there had been a last minute change of plan—Harriet had had a change of heart about the flowers and had insisted that Jen get there early to check that her instructions had been followed to the letter. She needn’t have worried— the whole church was full of white roses and the smell was quite intoxicating.

“She’ll be here, don’t worry. So are you going to wear that dress to your MBA graduation next week?”

Jen punched Daniel lightly on the arm. “Idiot. Go and do something useful.”

He squeezed her hand and wandered off and as he did, Jen saw Angel arrive.

“Angel! Over here!”

Angel wafted over, her beautiful boyfriend in tow. “Hi, Ravi,” Jen said, beaming as he kissed her on both cheeks.

“I still can’t believe this is the man you’re refusing to marry,” she whispered to her friend.

Angel gave Jen a little shrug. “I don’t want an arranged marriage to him. Doesn’t mean he can’t ask me normally, though,” she said, a little glint in her eye.

Jen rolled her eyes. “Only you, Angel. Look, you should go in and get a good seat—I’m just waiting for my mother.”

Angel raised her eyebrows. “Things are getting less complicated for you, at last, aren’t they?” she said with the hint of a smile.

Jen winked. “Maybe it’s your turn now,” she said, grinning.

As Angel and Ravi wandered into the church, Lara and Alan walked over toward Jen.

“Blimey, your tits look big in that dress,” Lara said in wonderment. “What have you got in there?”

Jen blushed. “It’s the boning. It hoists everything upward,” she explained, embarrassed. “And it’s bloody painful, to be honest.”

Alan grinned sheepishly. “You look lovely,” he said. “And please ignore my girlfriend’s crude language. She’s just jealous that someone else’s breasts are more on display than hers.”

“You idiot!” Lara said playfully and Jen smiled. She still found it hard to believe the transformation in Alan, for which she took full credit, even though she knew that she’d really had very little to do with it. True to his word, he had applied his business management prowess to himself, and in the process he’d turned himself into an interesting, funny guy, who listened to people and made Lara happier than she’d ever expected to be. Plus, of course, he’d “revamped his brand” by ditching the glasses, buying some very nice clothes, and getting his hair cut. It was like a makeover show, Jen thought to herself regularly, only he’d done it all himself. And all to attract Lara, who he’d secretly been in love with from day one.
Some spy I was,
Jen thought to herself with a little smile.
I didn’t see what was going on right under my nose.

“Come on, Alan,” Lara said. “Everyone’s in the church now. We should go in. When’s your mum getting here, Jen?”

Jen frowned. “God knows. She’s meant to be here any minute . . .”

As she spoke, a car drew up. A white London taxi. And out of it stepped her mother, an apparition in cream silk. Lara and Alan waved at her, then turned to find their places in the church, and Jen ran over to meet her.

“You look . . . perfect,” she said, small tears appearing in her eyes. “Just . . . perfect.”

Harriet smiled bashfully, and Jen gave her a quick hug. She’d never seen Harriet looking anything that remotely resembled bashful before, and she wanted to make the most of it. As Harriet disentangled herself from Jen’s embrace, they made their way to the church door where Geoffrey was waiting for her, his beard back and proud.

“Ready?” he asked.

Harriet turned to Jen. “You think I’m doing the right thing?” she asked. “You don’t think it’s foolish to marry the same man twice?”

Jen peeked into the church and saw her father waiting nervously at the front, checking his watch and removing imaginary specks from his morning suit. He saw her and smiled, a smile that she’d only discovered recently—the uncertain, humble smile of a man in love. No one had been more surprised than her when they announced that they’d decided to give things another go, and yet now it seemed the most natural thing in the world. George had invested in Green Futures, so they were partners in business again now, and they still argued most of the time, but now it was just friendly bickering. They needed each other, Jen had realized. And had never stopped caring about each other, even if they disguised it as hate for so long.

She smiled back, then looked at her mother carefully. “Do you trust him?” she asked her.

Harriet nodded. “For fifteen years I hated him,” she whispered. “And for fifteen years, we spent all our waking moments convincing ourselves we did the right thing, that everything was the other’s fault. But it was all because we loved each other so deeply. He isn’t a perfect man, Jennifer. He doesn’t always do the right thing, doesn’t always think of others much. But he loves me, and I love him, and I think that probably we always have.”

“Then there’s your answer,” Jen said with a little smile. “Here, I got you something.”

It was a lily.

“Give this to Dad when you get to the altar,” Jen told Harriet, pressing it into her hand. “Love is precious, and it’s fragile, too. Make sure he knows that.”

“Thank you, darling. I think he knows that now. I think we both do. And Jennifer?”

Jen looked up. “Yes, Mum?”

Harriet frowned slightly, and Jen swallowed, steeling herself for an emotional mother-daughter moment, which she hoped her mascara would survive.

“I thought I told you to wear those other shoes,” Harriet said. “The ones with the lower heel. I don’t want you towering over me down the aisle. You never listen to me, do you?”

Jen smiled. Some things, she realized, would never change.

“Yes, Mum,” she said with a smile. “Now get a move on, or you’ll be late for your wedding.”

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Kate Hetherington sighed and put down her drink dramatically.

“I just think there has to be a better way,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’d think they’d have developed some sort of radar by now.”

Her friend Sal frowned. “Radar?”

“To find the perfect man. So you don’t have to endure things like speed dating. Honestly, Sal, it was the worst night of my life. I hated every minute of it. I hated every man in there. And at the end, I still came out disappointed that I only got one number. I mean, it’s wrong on so many levels, I don’t even know where to start.”

Sal shrugged. “I bet it wasn’t that bad. I think it sounds like fun, actually.”

Kate looked at her friend levelly. “That’s because you’re happily married so you know you’ll never have to go. Things like speed dating always sound like fun in principle—it’s the reality that’s so excruciating.”

“So why did you go, then?”

“Because you made me.”

“I didn’t
make
you! I just said you should give it a go, that’s all.”

Kate sighed. “I know. I think a little voice inside me really thought it might work, too. I mean, I thought I might . . . meet someone’s eyes and just know. . . .”

“But it didn’t work out that way?”

“No,” Kate said despondently. “And the truth is, I’m kind of running out of options here. I’m going to be thirty soon, and I don’t see any knights on white steeds turning up to whisk me away, do you?”

Sal shook her head. “Does the steed have to be white?” she asked, a little smile playing on her lips.

Kate grinned. “I’m willing to stretch to cream,” she conceded. “If the knight is good-looking enough.”

“Ah, here you are. Sorry I’m late. So, how are we all?”

Kate and Sal turned around and saw their friend Tom approaching. “Dreadful, thanks,” Kate said lugubriously. “How’re you?”

Tom grimaced. “In need of a drink. Can I get either of you a refill?”

Kate handed him her glass, requesting a vodka tonic, and Sal shook her head. As he disappeared off toward the bar, she frowned. “And you’re sure there wasn’t a single eligible man there? Not even one?”

“Not even one,” Kate assured her. “They were all either creepy, letchy, or just plain weird.” Sal looked at her dubiously, and Kate’s hackles rose. “What?” she demanded. “Don’t you believe me?”

Sal widened her eyes. “I didn’t say a thing!”

“No, but you looked at me like you wanted to. You think I would have missed some gorgeous guy just waiting to sweep me off my feet?”

Sal hesitated, and then blurted, “I just think that maybe your aspirations are too high. I mean, all you talk about is sweeping and knights and stuff. Instead of nice-looking, or amenable. I’m just not sure you’re looking for the right . . . qualities.”

“Right qualities?”

Sal put her drink down. “This is the real world, Kate, that’s all. Richard Gere isn’t going to turn up in a convertible car to whisk you off into the sunset.”

“I don’t want Richard Gere to turn up,” Kate snapped. “I just want . . .”

Sal raised her eyebrows expectantly.

“Fine,” Kate said with a sigh. “I admit it. My aspirations are high. I want fireworks, and I want magic. What’s wrong with that? I can’t help it if I’d rather chew my own feet off than endure a night of speed dating again.”

“Speed dating?” Tom asked, arriving with the drinks. “So you went, did you?”

Kate nodded. “Tried it, hated it, never doing it again.” Avoiding Sal’s eyes, she took her drink from Tom and shuffled her chair around to make room for him.

They were sitting in the Bush Bar and Grill, a bar-cum-restaurant that was five minutes’ walk from each of their homes and which hosted their weekly Sunday-night drinks date. The three of them lived streets away from one another in the area of London that sat between Shepherd’s Bush, West Kensington, and Hammersmith. Which particular section they chose to tell people they lived in depended on whether they were at a job interview, trying to impress someone, or hoping not to get mugged. Sal and her husband, Ed, lived on a road that was officially in West Kensington; Kate’s zip code said W6, which meant Hammersmith, but she was really closer to Shepherd’s Bush. And Tom lived on the Golborne Road, a stone’s throw from the Bush Bar and Grill, and two minutes’ walking distance from both of the women.

“So it was as ghastly as it sounded?” Tom said dryly.

“Worse,” Kate said. “I had to meet twenty people for five minutes, which isn’t long, is it?” She gave Tom a hopeful look, and he nodded firmly. “But I still ran out of things to say,” she said. “I mean, they asked such stupid stuff. Life if I was an animal, which one would I be and why. What sort of a question is that?”

Tom frowned. “What animal did you say you’d be?” he asked with interest.

“I started off with a dolphin, and then someone made a joke about sperm whales and I lost the will to live. After that, I was a crocodile twice, a rottweiler, and a meerkat.” She smirked a little.

“Well, no wonder you didn’t meet anyone nice,” Sal complained. “They probably thought you were a total Froot Loop.”

“But a very sweet Froot Loop,” Tom said affectionately.

“I could set you up with one of Ed’s friends, if you want,” Sal interjected. “I think I can safely guarantee that none of them would ask you any animal-related questions at all.”

“Thanks, Sal,” Kate said with a shrug. “But I’ve kind of gone off the whole dating scene for a bit. And anyway, I’m not sure I’d have much in common with many of Ed’s friends. . . .”

Sal frowned. “Because you think financiers are all pinstripe shirt–wearing bores?” she asked crossly.

“No!” Kate said. “Not at all. But come on, you and Ed are so . . . grown up.”

“Ed’s only thirty-five,” Sal said defensively. “It’s not so old. And I’m no older than you.”

“I didn’t say ‘old.’ Grown up is different.”

“How?” Sal asked, her eyes narrowing.

Tom grinned. “Sal, darling, don’t play the innocent with us. We both know that when you’re at home, you and Ed talk about stocks and shares and the impact of the Budget on your pensions. Whereas I doubt Kate here even has a pension. Do you, Kate?”

Kate shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I’m going to. You know, at some point.”

“Kate!” Sal said, shocked. “You don’t have a pension? That’s so . . . irresponsible.”

“I rest my case.” Kate sighed. “None of Ed’s friends would be interested in me because I don’t have a stock portfolio. I don’t even know how I’d go about getting one. And the truth is, I don’t even care. So I’m going to have to spend the rest of my days at nasty speed-dating events at which hideous pigs leer and stare at my breasts all night. Bloody marvelous.”

“Seriously?” Tom asked. “They stared at
your
breasts?”

Kate hit him. Her lack of cleavage was a running gag with Sal and Tom. Had been since high school when she’d been the last girl in their whole class to need a bra. “One guy stared at them for the full five minutes, actually. And then he gave me his card and said he’d love to see me again! Can you believe it? Steve, his name was. I kept his card as a reminder of everything I’m not looking for in a man.”

“Nothing wrong with staring at breasts,” Tom said, grinning. “I think they’re a great indicator of marriage potential, as it happens.”

Sal rolled her eyes. “Tom, you are incorrigible. And I don’t know why you’re so laid back about the whole thing, either. When’s the last time you had a serious girlfriend?”

“I pride myself on steering clear of seriousness in the girlfriend department,” Tom replied with dignity. “I have enough seriousness at work, thanks.”

“Being a surgeon doesn’t preclude you from falling in love,” Sal continued. “Don’t you ever meet anyone you actually like?”

Tom blanched. “
Like
is an odd word, don’t you think?” He looked down at his empty glass. “I
like
lots of things. Doesn’t mean I want to move in with them, does it? Doesn’t mean I want to sign my life away.”

Kate pounced on the opening. To Sal, she said, “See? You say I’m hopeless, but I’m not as hopeless as Tom.”

“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong,” Tom said quickly. “You are the epitome of a hopeless romantic. Hopeless, ironically, because you do hope that fairy tale love story will come true for you. I, on the other hand, am comfortable with the fact that it doesn’t. Therefore, I, unlike you, am never going to be disappointed.”

“You think I’m going to be disappointed?”

Tom raised his eyebrows. “Kate, for a man to live up to your expectations, he would have to be six-foot-four, strapping but sensitive, intelligent but always willing to accept your point of view, continually sweeping you off your feet and basically dedicating his life to you. For a woman to live up to mine, she would need to be . . . well, female. And perhaps not a complete dog.”

Kate scowled. “I am not a hopeless romantic. That’s rubbish.”

“You’re not?” Tom said with an ill-concealed grin. “Do you remember how many universities you had on your shortlist?”

She looked at him curiously. “Two,” she said. “No, three.”

“You may have had three in the end, but only because you were forced into it. Don’t you remember? You were madly in love with that guy in the year above us, Paul James. And you insisted that you had to go to Bristol because that’s where he was going, and the two of you were meant to be together.”

“So?” Kate knew where this was going. “I liked Bristol. It was a great university.”

“Yes, but you split up with Paul at the beginning of the summer holidays! You made a major decision about your life based on some romantic notion that you were meant to be with some spotty teenager, and it could have been a disaster.”

“But it wasn’t, was it?” Kate said hotly. “And at least I’m open to love. At least I’m open to commitment and marriage and living happily ever after. You’ve become way too cynical, Tom.”

“Maybe. But if I have, then I’m pleased,” Tom said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Anyway, it’s not as if anyone has ever expressed any interest in marrying me. I mean, would either of you take someone like me on?”

His eyes met Kate’s for a moment, and she frowned. “God, no,” she said. “Can’t think of anything worse.”

Sal sighed. “Me either,” she relented, prompting Tom to pull a face of disappointment. “Fine. Well, you both enjoy your lonely existences, and drop in on me and my boring husband from time to time, won’t you?”

Kate leant over and squeezed Sal’s arm. “Sal, you were always ahead of the game. You had your university offers before we’d even got round to applying. You had a job before either of us had got over our end-of-university hangovers. We’ll get there eventually. At least, I hope we will.”

Sal smiled. “Fine, you’re right. But I still think you should let me set you up,” she said with another sigh.

Kate shook her head. “Thanks, but no. I’ll meet my Mr. Right eventually,” she said, shooting Tom a meaningful look. “At least I hope I will.”