Somebody to Love: Sigh With Contentment, Scream With Frustration. At Time You Will Weep. (25 page)

‘We’ll be murdered in our beds one day, won’t we, hon? No, course we won’t.’ She peered out to check on Findus, who was dining happily on dandelions, then smiled down at her dog, who followed her wherever she went. ‘You’d fight them off, wouldn’t you?’

‘Matt!’ Donna called up the stairs, once Findus had followed a trail of yoghurt drops back to his cage and Sadie had been duly rewarded her chocy variety ‘Will you please stop leaving the back door open. Sadie will let you know when she wants to go out.’

She cocked an ear in hopes of a reply. Nothing, apart from Matt and his friend whooping and groaning, and sound-effects from his computer game, which would explain why he’d left the back door open. With Matt installed in front of his PC, Sadie would have to resort to a flying karate kick to get his attention.

Ah, well, Donna yawned and stretched. A nice warm bath was in order, she thought, it being Friday night — fish and chips night. Also the night before Simon’s party, for which she’d need to preen, pluck, and make herself drop-dead gorgeous.

Donna sighed. ‘I may be some time, Sade.’

****

After checking on Karl, who was contentedly snuggled under his duvet with Starbuck, Mark walked over to the phone.

It was now or never, he supposed.

Though how the hell he was going to explain that he’d started out thinking Donna would walk away once she knew about Karl, then assumed she had once she did… Christ, how wrong could he have been?

And this was without trying to explain away being locked in a no-holds-barred embrace with Michelle in the restaurant. He doubted very much that Donna would accept any explanations he had to offer about that.

Raking his hand through his hair, Mark picked up the phone, and dialled Donna’s number. Whatever her response, he needed to let her know how much he cared about her. Tell her what a special person she was. That he wished he’d been man enough to admit up front — as Donna had — that he was running scared of wrong relationships, too.

He let the phone ring. Was almost at the point of hanging up when Matt picked up.

Mark braced himself, ready to be not-so-politely told where to go. Matt, he’d deduced from the killer look he’d given him in the restaurant, hadn’t been too impressed with him either.

‘Hi, Matt,’ he said, nervously. ‘It’s Mark. How’s things?’

‘Who?’

‘Er, Mark,’ he repeated awkwardly. ‘Mark Evans. The, er, policeman.’

‘Oh, yeah,’ Matt said, after a loaded pause. ‘I think I remember the name. Struggling to recall the
two
faces though.’

‘Ah.’ Mark sensed a little animosity.

‘Do you want something?’ Matt asked bluntly.

‘I, er…’ Mark started, faltered, then went for it. ‘Another chance?’ he asked, hopefully.

‘To do what? Mess her about again?’

‘No, absolutely not. To explain, that’s all.’

No answer.

‘To you, initially,’ Mark suggested. ‘And then, if you want to tell your mum I called, not to tell her to tell me to get stuffed…’

Silence.

‘It’d better be good,’ Matt said, at length.

‘Not good enough, I suspect, but it’s all I’ve got.’

‘Try me,’ Matt said dryly.

Wasn’t going to make it easy, was he? Mark took a breath. So where did he start? How did he explain his own insecurities had had him screwing things up without sounding lame?

‘I have a son, too, Matt,’ he started, deciding honesty was the best policy. ‘His name’s Karl. He’s autistic. I didn’t tell Donna… your mum… up-front, because I was frightened of scaring her away. I didn’t give her a chance. My mistake. Big mistake. I’m sorry.’

‘Oh,’ said Matt.

Mark smiled. Obviously the ‘oh’ ran in the family.

‘So how old is he?’

‘Six. Donna has met him now, incidentally. Today, actually. I’m not sure whether she told you, but… Well, let’s just say she worked a small miracle. She’s a pretty special person, you know?’

‘Yes, I
do
know, as it happens,’ Matt informed him flatly. ‘And the neck accessory?’ he enquired, obviously referring to Michelle.

‘A friend. Just a friend. I didn’t sleep with her, Matt,’ Mark assured him quickly, realising that Matt was mature enough for details, and wasn’t about to be fobbed off with anything less. ‘I might have. Intended to, to be honest. I thought it was over with Donna. I’m hoping to God it isn’t. That somehow, I can fix things.’

Mark stopped. That was it. His cards were on the table. Now, as backward as it seemed, it was up to Matt. ‘What do you think?’ he asked hesitantly.

‘I think you should try carrying flowers next time you run into her, rather than a female,’ Matt suggested, with due sarcasm.

‘Good idea.’ Mark conceded.

‘I’ll be back about eleven-thirty, just in case you should run into her tonight.’

‘Er, right,’ Mark got the drift, possibly. ‘Thanks, Matt.’

Mark signed off feeling as if he should have said, thanks Mr O’Connor. He smiled, knowing he could be feeling a lot worse.

****

‘Bye, Mum,’ Matt called when Donna turned off her hairdryer. ‘We’re off to…’

‘Have fun,’ Donna called back, rummaging in her wardrobe for something to wear between the barely-there sixties dress she’d picked up at the charity shop, and go-go boots, other than goose-pimples.

‘… North America.’

‘Okey-dokey,’ Donna trilled, preoccupied. Aha! She seized on a pair of hold-ups in the absence of tights. But would they look right? Fishnets didn’t go with microdot mini-dresses, did they?

‘… in search of Bigfoot,’ Matt went on, drolly.

‘Well, don’t be too late. You have your Saturday job tomorrow, remember?’ Donna reminded him, deciding she’d just have to try the whole ridiculous fancy-dress ensemble on.

‘Yes, Mother. I’ll bring us a bear home for supper.’

Oh, whoops. He must be as hungry as one. Donna skidded to the landing. ‘Sorry, I was just trying my fishnets on. There’s money for food on the cupboard.’ She leaned over the banister and beamed him a smile.

Matt shook his head. ‘Bye, Mother. Don’t get doing anything I wouldn’t.’

Chance would be a fine thing. Donna sighed, and skidded back.

God, the dress was miniscule — she held it up to her — to the point of obscene. She had another sigh and wriggled into what might better suit a Sindy doll, then tugged a go-go boot onto one leg, a fishnet onto the other for comparison, and surveyed herself in the mirror.

Hmm? Not quite the luv-in sixties-hippie-chick look she’d been aiming for. She’d be ‘pulled in’ if she went out in public in this little lot.

Damn! The doorbell. Perfect timing as per… Donna peg-legged to the landing, guessing who it was, but trying to get a peek through the glass nevertheless, lest it be a salesman, who would probably have apoplexy and die on the doorstep.

Donna squinted, then crouched and squinted some more; then almost fell face-first down the stairs when the letterbox flapped and a pair of eyes peered back.

‘Cooee, only me,’ Simon called. ‘Hurry up, Dons. It’s raining cats and dogs.’

‘Coming.’ Donna dashed on down, lest poor Simon end up dead from pneumonia on top of his poor stitched head.

‘Ooh!’ Simon exclaimed when Donna opened the door to the only man in the universe she was about to let see her dressed… or rather… undressed, as she was. ‘I didn’t realise we were doing tarts and vicars.’

‘Is it really that bad?’ Donna asked gloomily, holding the door wide to allow a dripping wet, sou’westered Simon inside.

‘Bad?’ Simon turned to look her up and down as she closed the door. ‘Sweetie, all I can say is I’m glad Nathan’s gay.’

Donna knitted her brow. ‘Oh,’ she said, her mouth curving into a small smile as she realised Simon had just paid her a compliment.

‘It’s knockout,’ Simon assured her, swishing up the hall and dripping all over the floor. ‘You’ll have single men drooling into their drinks. That’s assuming you’re not back together with your yummy policeman?’

Simon looked at her, a touch hopefully.

‘No.’ Donna tried not to look too miserable. ‘I’m not sure we were ever together, to be honest. Come on, upstairs. You can tell me whether it’s better with stockings off or on.’

‘Now there’s an offer a man can’t refuse.’ Simon made eyes at Sadie, then scooted after Donna. ‘I promise I’ll be quick.’

‘How very disappointing,’ Donna laughed.

‘Like a fireman down a greased pole.’

‘You’re going as a policeman, Simon, remember?’ Donna showed him into the bedroom, then went to the bathroom to try to work out how she was going to wear flowers in her hair when she couldn’t get them to stay there.

‘So, you didn’t actually get it together in the bedroom department, then?’ Simon enquired casually, from Donna’s bedroom.

‘No,’ Donna confessed. ‘I mean we kissed… a bit.’ She trailed a finger over her lips, wishing Mark had been a terrible kisser, wishing he hadn’t done terrible things to her when he had kissed her.

‘Honestly, Donna, why not?’ Simon asked the inevitable question. ‘Admittedly I didn’t see much of him with half my body’s blood supply dripping into my eyes but…’ He paused. ‘Stop it, Donna.’

‘Stop what?’ Donna asked, knowing full well what Simon meant.

‘Feeling guilty. I know what you’re like, Donna O’Connor, and it was
not
your fault. That twit you were married to is such a Neanderthal he ought to exhibited in the Natural History Museum, preferably stuffed. I just hope he gets his comeuppance.’

Which he will, with luck, Donna thought; if Leticia dumps him from a great height, which, hopefully, she will.

‘Anyway, as I was saying,’ Simon went on, ‘from what I could see of your policeman friend, he looked a bit of a dish. I tell you what, I wouldn’t turn him down.’

‘Simon!’

‘I meant if I was
you
, obviously. I’m spoken for, if you recall. Come on then, I’m ready. Come and tell me whether I could ever hope to measure up.’

Simon did a little twirl when Donna went into the bedroom. ‘Whadya think? It’s me, isn’t it?’ He flicked his hair theatrically and turned his good side to the light.

‘Very.’ Donna laughed. He did cut quite a figure actually. Mark’s jacket fitted him well. ‘Nathan will think it’s
his
birthday and Christmas all rolled into one.’

‘Do you really think so?’ Simon beamed, and turned to admire himself in the mirror.

‘Absolutely,’ nodded Donna enthusiastically, and lost her flower.

‘You, too,’ Simon offered, with a reassuring smile. ‘But I don’t think you’re supposed to wear your flower there, sweetie.’

‘I know.’ Donna tucked it a bit further down her cleavage, for safekeeping. ‘I’m obviously not the bells-on-toes and flowers-in-the-hair sort. I’ll have to get a headband, or stitch it to my scalp.’

‘Ouch,’ they both said together.

‘Sorry, Simon. Does it hurt much?’

‘Only when I laugh,’ Simon assured her. ‘Oh, do stop worrying, Donna. I’m fine, honestly, thanks to your policeman friend. So are you going to tell me what happened between you two then, or are you going to keep me in suspenders? Talking of which, you’ll need another stocking to hitch to yours. You’re looking a bit lopsided.’

Simon nodded at her one hold-up, which wasn’t holding up very well, then perched himself on the dressing table chair, his face expectant.

‘I don’t know.’ Donna hitched up her fishnet and plopped herself down on the bed. ‘We were getting along fine, I think. Then I told him I didn’t want complications, and it all got… complicated.’

‘You’re vulnerable, sweetie. You’ve been hurt and you don’t want to be hurt again, I can understand that. So?’

‘So?’

‘So is that why you didn’t do the deed?

Donna looked at him, puzzled.

‘On the basis of “you don’t give all of yourself, you don’t get hurt”; am I close?’

Donna sighed. ‘Very,’ she admitted. ‘Except I do.’

‘Except you do.’ Simon shook his head sadly.

Donna shifted uncomfortably. ‘I did try,’ she admitted. ‘You know, to give him my all.’

Simon arched an eyebrow.

‘I made a mess of it.’ Donna shrugged and blushed down to her squashed petals. ‘I think I’m a bit…’

‘Lacking in confidence after that little turd, Jeremy?’

‘Yes.’ Donna’s blush turned to a hot flush. ‘I practically raped him.’

‘Pardon?’ Simon sat to attention.

‘No not… I just, sort of threw myself at him,’ Donna tried to explain. ‘Gave him the green light, you know, and then when he, um…’

‘Revved his engine?’

‘Simon, don’t,’ said Donna, feeling embarrassed more for Mark than for herself. ‘Mark was really gentlemanly about it, but… do you think he… You know?’

‘What? Lost interest?’

‘Uh-huh.’ Donna nodded, not sure she really thought he had, not then. He’d rung so many times. But then, he wasn’t ringing now, was he? ‘You don’t think he’s one of those
thrill of the chase
sorts? And he suddenly realised it wasn’t worth the effort and went off in search of more willing fish?’ Donna fished.

‘Donna, now you’re being paranoid. You’re measuring yourself by that dreadful ex’s opinion of you. So don’t. I’m willing to bet your boy-in-blue’s opinion would count for a whole lot more.’

‘Yes, I suppose.’ She
was
being paranoid. Of course she was. Looking for reasons to blame herself, again. Reasons for him to be able to justify Jody-kiss-kiss and silken-haired Sally, who were obviously on the scene well before her. And what about the woman practically digesting Mark whole in the restaurant?

‘Ring him,’ Simon suggested. ‘Ask him.’

‘I would. I might, but…’ Donna chewed on her lip. ‘He was supposed to be ringing me. Tonight. Just to talk, you know?’

‘Ah, so you don’t want to ring him, in case he doesn’t want to be rung and you’d end up looking the fool.’

‘Exactly,’ Donna sighed, and peeled off her one hold-up in favour of the other go-go boot. Fishnets, she decided, suited her about as much as they did fish. She’d have time enough to shop for something that looked less trollopy tomorrow.

‘I see,’ said Simon. ‘Um, Donna, just out of interest, you don’t think your boy-in-blue might come around in person, rather than ring?’