The Good, the Bad and the Dumped Page 16

  ‘No!’ she desperately wanted to say. ‘No, it wasn’t fun at all! You’re being a total arse!’

  But she didn’t, of course. She just shrugged and said yes, as if she wasn’t that bothered either. He’d looked relieved that she wasn’t putting up much of a fuss. Not sad, or disappointed, or wistful - pleased.

  ‘You should have thrown a glass in his face,’ said Fleur afterwards.

  ‘I know. But they were Conran Shop,’ Posy had said. ‘Argh, he was such an arse. He shouldn’t have looked so pleased. I know he pulled those women, too.’

  And she had slunk out, showing a brave face as if that would help somehow, for when he called her in a couple of weeks or so, realising his terrible mistake and anxious to give them another go. It never happened. All, it turned out, she had to do in the end was avoid loud overpriced bars in west London over-populated by screaming yahoos and drunken rugby-loving idiots and she would never, ever have to see him again.

  ‘So,’ said Adam, pulling her back to earth. Eight years ago she would have been desperate for this chance, this moment, to tell him a few things, or whack him about the head. But today, not so much. ‘What’s this about then?’

  He ordered another couple of drinks. Posy realised this meant they were going to be getting drunk. And fast. All her good intentions would be in jeopardy. Oh well, why should they break their usual habits?

  ‘I don’t know. But I never felt we had a proper ending,’ said Posy, trying to say what she’d meant to.

  ‘Well, we broke up, didn’t we? Didn’t we?’

  ‘Yeah, but you just said, “See you later”, and then I never saw you again.’

  Adam stared into his drink. ‘Oh, I thought it was quite an easy end to a casual kind of thing . . .’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Posy.

  ‘Would you have rather I said, “See you later, I want to nob lots of other people and not feel guilty”?’

  Posy thought about it. ‘Well, at least it would have been a good reason, rather than leaving me to think I was the ugliest, stupidest, shortest girl on the face of the planet.’

  His face looked stricken. ‘Is that what you thought?’

  Posy shrugged. ‘I didn’t know what to think, did I?’

  ‘Damn you, Facebook,’ said Adam, then smiled ruefully. ‘It is nice to catch up, though. OK, I’m sorry. Can I be sorry? Will that be enough? I mean, I really am actually sorry. You were - are - great and everything, I just wanted to explore, you know, that’s all it was. Come on, I’m much nicer now, I promise.’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘Did I what? Screw around? And how.’ He shook his head gleefully at the memories. ‘It was ace. Did you?’

  ‘No!’ She slapped him hard on the knee. ‘I sat indoors for a year watching Ally McBeal.’

  ‘You did not! You idiot.’

  Posy reflected on it. ‘I was an idiot, wasn’t I?’

  ‘And how! You’re a great girl, you should have been out there, flashing it about a bit.’

  ‘Curses,’ said Posy.

  ‘Then you probably wouldn’t been mooning it up the place now.’

  ‘I suppose.’

  Posy shook her head. She felt the cocktails begin to take effect, too. Had she just been overthinking this the entire time? And if she’d been overthinking this then surely she’d been overthinking . . . him, as well. This was fine, this was easy, no problem. He was just a man, not the right man for her, but nothing to worry about. And if this was the case with Adam, shouldn’t she also slay the dragon that was . . . Well. Anyway, she was definitely feeling more relaxed.

  ‘So, what else have you been up to?’ she asked, eating a nut from the dish in front of her, then stopping when she realised nobody else in the entire room was touching the snacks.

  Adam shrugged. ‘Well, after I got divorced, I—’

  ‘Whoa!’ said Posy, spilling the bowl of nuts all over the table. ‘Back up! Back up! What do you mean, you got divorced?’

  ‘Well, it’s when two people—’

  ‘No, I mean, what . . . I didn’t even know you’d got married. ’

  ‘Didn’t you?’ He looked confused.

  ‘No, because you broke up with me, remember? So . . .’

  ‘OK, we’ve been through that bit,’ said Adam. ‘Oh yes, I did get married. In fact, you knew her but she didn’t want to have you there.’

  Posy looked at him. It couldn’t be. ‘It wasn’t . . .’

  ‘Carla, do you remember?’

  Posy shook her head in disbelief. ‘You married Carla? That girl that followed you around like a limpet?’

  ‘Carla? Did she? I never noticed.’

  Posy rolled her eyes. ‘She followed you around like a crocodile stalking its prey . . . is that what crocodiles do? Wow, I can’t believe it. Wow. And I thought you liked me playing it cool!’ she said, slightly knocked by the news. All this time she thought Adam was too selfish and thoughtless to settle down with anyone. But no, it turned out he just didn’t want to settle with her.

  Adam still looked utterly bamboozled. ‘I had no idea she liked me so much.’

  ‘Because you’re an idiot!’

  ‘Then why did she treat me so badly when she got me?’ he wondered.

  ‘How did she treat you badly?’

  Adam squinted. ‘Well, maybe I started it . . .’

  ‘Did you forsake all others, wanting only her?’ asked Posy mischievously.

  ‘Well, before we got married, she just treated everything like such a laugh,’ said Adam. ‘Honestly, I never thought she’d mind all that much.’

  ‘Did she mind?!’ asked Posy. ‘Carla never had a laugh! You unbelievable tart! Don’t tell me, was she boring too?’

  ‘Does it help if I tell you she took my house?’ grumbled Adam.

  ‘Yes. A bit.’

  ‘It’s not funny.’

  ‘It’s not.’ Posy frowned. ‘You’d think she would have known what you were like.’

  ‘I know!’

  Posy shook her head. ‘Adam Linden. I would never have thought you’d get down the aisle.’

  Adam held up his arms, helplessly. Posy felt sad suddenly. Other people seemed to find it all so simple.

  ‘So what,’ said Posy, leaning forwards, ‘what made you propose? What made you do it?’ She thought about Carla - friendly, pretty, enthusiastic Carla. Well, it made sense, she supposed. With her fashionable clothes and tidy ways and, well, Carla was obviously just better wife material. She thought of Carla with her manicure and her fashionable clothes. And those girls at the gym, of course . . . all taut and buffed to a high-tan sheen. She wasn’t like that, would never be like that. She wouldn’t have made a good corporate wife for Adam. OK, so she wouldn’t humph around in a sack like Elspeth, but still, she wouldn’t fit in. She looked around her, at all the slender glamorous types. She didn’t fit in with him.

  Matt, though. He was surrounded by these kinds of people all the time and yet he liked her. Just her. Hmm.

  Adam rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, she told me she was pregnant.’

  Posy was so surprised she felt her mouth fall open. ‘She did what ?’

  ‘Yeah. And did a lot of crying and stuff. Then I said, “Well, I suppose we could get married”, and she burst into tears again and rang everyone and before I knew it I had a morning suit on.’ He shook his head at the memory. ‘It was fast.’

  ‘So, hang on,’ said Posy. ‘Do you have a child?’

  ‘No,’ said Adam, setting down his drink. ‘She lost the baby at six weeks.’

  ‘Oh, that’s very sad,’ said Posy. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Adam, ‘it was really sad. Carla said the best way to get over it was to throw herself into planning the wedding.’

  ‘Oh, that’s awful,’ said Posy, still sympathetic.

  ‘Yeah, I know, we had colour swatches and everything.’

  ‘I mean . . .’ Posy abandoned the train of thought. ‘Was it a big affair?’

  ‘Totally massive. Disg
usting, in fact. Doves and almonds and all sorts.’

  ‘Red Arrows fly past . . .’

  ‘Yup, all of that.’

  ‘Why is it that the more extravagant the wedding, the shorter it lasts?’ wondered Posy aloud. She realised she was doing exactly what she had promised herself she wouldn’t: getting drunk with Adam in the room.

  ‘Because big weddings are really really boring for absolutely everyone except the bride and the bride’s bloody mother and they cost a bloody fortune,’ said Adam bitterly.

  ‘You’re not over it,’ said Posy.

  ‘It I am over,’ said Adam. ‘Paying the damn thing off and losing my house I would say I am not. Teach me to try and do the decent thing.’

  Posy raised her eyebrows. ‘The man beneath the cad.’

  ‘I would . . . I would have liked to have met the baby,’ said Adam, quietly.

  They sat there in silence, and Posy reached out and patted his hand gently.

  Adam looked at her out of the corner of his eye. ‘Actually I’m on a mission to rediscover my inner cad. Fancy joining in?’

  Posy couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Come on, Adam, I am ancient now and you’ve had me already. You can let it rest.’

  In answer, Adam picked up their drinks and insisted they move over to where, Posy hadn’t even noticed, a DJ had started playing.

  ‘Well, in any case, you must dance with me. I’ve poured out my whole terribly sad story, I deserve a little mercy.’

  Posy realised she hadn’t really danced for . . . well, how long? Her and Matt had kind of stopped dancing. It just didn’t seem like the kind of thing that couples who’d been together a long time did any more, which felt daft when you thought about it, like giving it up along with sex. She wondered, if you drew a graph, whether or not you would see a direct trajectory. Before she could follow the train of thought too far, Adam had grabbed her arm and was spinning her around.

  ‘Hey, baby,’ he joked. Something incredibly naff was playing - Robbie Williams - and Posy felt the cocktails course through her veins. Around her, gorgeous young starlets were dancing self-consciously, in an incredibly sexy way. Posy decided that under the circumstances, the best thing to do was let herself go with the flow, and with a shimmy she brought her arms up above her head.

  Adam grinned at her. Vulnerabilities abandoned, he was back in full wolfish mode. Posy realised she’d forgotten what it was like - it just seemed so very long ago. But he was a great dancer, of course, sexy without being show-offy, un-self-conscious without being horribly uninhibited. As she twirled in and out of his arms, stopping to occasionally sip her drink, she realised that for the first time in weeks, she could put the soul-searching from her mind. For once, she wasn’t having a really terrible time. She could live in the moment; enjoy herself. As the music got louder and the room got sweatier, she found herself moving nearer to Adam, and when he moved closer and closer amidst all the young people and the smell of aftershave and alcohol, Posy gave herself up to the headiness of it all; losing herself in being twenty-three again, without a care or a thought in the world, without a mortgage, a broken engagement or fear of an uncertain future, without a little crease in the middle of her forehead. Her short skirt billowed as she leant into him eagerly. There was a pause in the music.

  Harshly, sharply, her phone rang.

  ‘No phones on in here,’ said Adam, breaking off with her briefly. Indeed, she could see disapproving looks all around the dance floor.

  A cool breeze off the roof blew into her face as she escaped the dark room. She swayed gently against the external fire escape.

  ‘This is your come-home alarm call,’ said Leah’s familiar voice.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Come home! You’ve been out with Adam for too long! He’ll put you under his spell!’

  ‘No, no, it’s fine,’ said Posy, realising she was slurring her words. ‘I have to turn my phone off.’

  ‘Oh God, it’s worse than I thought,’ said Leah. ‘Come home.’

  ‘No, it’s fine.’

  ‘Are you getting off with him?’

  Posy didn’t want to listen to Leah right then. She wasn’t getting off with him anyway.

  ‘You’re thinking about getting off with him, aren’t you? Come home or I’m coming to get you.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ said Posy. ‘He’s been through a very painful divorce.’

  ‘I’ll put you through a very painful headlock if you dare go home with—’

  Posy felt the breath on her back, and a familiar strong arm come round her waist to caress her and, with one swift move, take her phone and switch it off.

  ‘Hey!’ she protested.

  ‘What did I tell you? No phones in here,’ said Adam. The view over London from the fire escape was breathtaking. The towers of the City loomed up over the illuminated glow of St Paul’s and the dark streak of the river. Adam kissed the back of her neck.

  ‘You do like looking at views,’ he muttered, and she was taken back to the very first night they had met.

  ‘Stop it!’ she said. ‘Stop it at once.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘Oh God!’ Posy pounded her screaming head against the pillowcase. It didn’t help. ‘How?!’ she moaned out loud. ‘How could I have been such an idiot?’

  She marched to the window. Adam was living sixteen storeys up in what was obviously meant to be a cool penthouse block near the river, but actually felt more like a big glass box. That divorce really had hit him badly. Her phone rang. She considered throwing it out of the window, but settled on ignoring it.

  At least it wasn’t Matt. That would have been the worst thing. She sighed, running her hands through her tangled hair. Matt, who would have had all his worst fears confirmed that she was indisputably not the marrying kind.

  London didn’t look sparkly and exciting from a great height any more. It looked grey and miserable and horrid, full of identically dressed people marching glumly off to work.

  Oh God, what a horrible horrible disaster. She looked down. At least her clothes were still on. Of Adam there was no sign. Oh God. Oh my God, she’d really done it now. Chokingly she started to cry.

  ‘What’s up with you, sexy pants?’

  She turned round slowly. ‘I can’t believe . . . I can’t believe I came back with you.’

  ‘What are you talking about? Four of those cocktails and you weren’t capable of going anywhere on your own.’

  ‘What was in those things?’ said Posy, grasping her head.

  ‘It’s a secret recipe,’ said Adam.

  ‘That’s because it’s illegal,’ said Posy. ‘Oh. Oh God.’

  ‘It’s not that bad.’

  ‘Adam, I’m engaged! And I woke up in your bed.’

  ‘Yes, and I woke up on the sofa, you idiot. I know you think I get about a bit, but I can assure you I find near-unconsciousness very unattractive.’

  Posy’s hand shot to her mouth. ‘You mean, we didn’t . . .’

  Adam rolled his eyes. ‘No, but thank you for your six-hour lecture on how much you love Matt, and I liked the way that every time you got to the end of telling me about it you’d go back and start again. That made it even better.’

  ‘Oh Christ,’ said Posy. ‘I am sorry.’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Adam. ‘Actually, I found the first couple of hours quite fun.’

  Posy looked down. ‘No more mystery cocktails.’

  ‘I think that sounds like a good idea.’

  Her phone rang again.

  ‘You’re there, aren’t you?’

  ‘Hello, Leah,’ said Posy, with a resigned sigh.

  Leah sighed as well and made a disappointed sound.

  ‘It’s not what you think,’ said Posy.

  ‘Oh no?’

  ‘You’re a gorgeous hunk of woman!’ shouted Adam from the kitchen doorway.

  ‘Shut up!’ hissed Posy furiously.

  ‘Last night was incredible!’ continued Adam relentlessly.

  ‘Posy, look
, you can get through this.’ Leah’s voice sounded anxious on the phone. ‘You’re not a bad person.’

  ‘She’s a very naughty girl,’ said Adam.

  After she’d explained everything to Leah (who didn’t necessarily think getting pissed with your ex-boyfriend was a great idea either, something with which Posy was in full agreement), Adam had very sweetly offered her a bath - which she’d accepted - and one last opportunity to get off with him, which she’d declined. He even suggested breakfast - it was Saturday so he was working anyway but having taken off the top layer of hangover grime, Posy wanted out as quickly as possible.

  ‘Well,’ Adam had said politely, dropping her off at the tube station. ‘It was nice to catch up. Anytime!’

  Posy saw, once again, her dreams of coming across as an adult, sensible woman with her own life and confidence, breathtakingly admirable and incredibly sorted, leaving Adam winded with admiration and respect for her life choices and wishing he hadn’t been so hasty all those years ago . . . oh, for fuck’s sake.

  ‘What are you shaking your head for?’ said Adam.

  ‘Oh, nothing,’ said Posy, ‘nothing at all. Good luck, Adam.’

  ‘Oh yeah, sure,’ he said, and kissed her jauntily on the mouth. ‘You too, eh? Keep in touch!’

  Back at the flat, Matt’s clothes were carefully and neatly hung up on the washing line. Adidas jogging pants; hi-tech running clothes with little pockets for water and watches and timers and iPods and netting and all sorts of things. No note for her, no query about where she’d been or why she hadn’t called. Nothing at all. Nothing. Tired, hungover, ashamed of herself, she sunk into the second bath of the day and cried big salty tears.

  Matt only stopped by briefly, around lunchtime, to change. He eyed her up, but pointedly didn’t ask where she’d been.

  The evidence, thought Posy, was probably written in the tear stains in her eyes. Or didn’t he care?

  ‘Where are you going?’ she asked timidly.

  ‘I’m having a coffee with a client,’ he said, looking awkward.

  ‘Oh,’ she said.

  ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Yeah.’ Then he looked at her, suspicion in his eyes. ‘Good time last night?’