Blokebusters Page 34

  “Sir, it’s been a pleasure helping you this afternoon and I feel that the closeness that’s developed between us during this time permits me to ask you a very special favour. Would I be overstepping the mark?”

  Matt shook his head.

  “Not at all. Ask away.”

  “Sir is most kind. If someone should enquire where you purchased your suit – please don’t mention us.”

  Matt understood.

  “Righto.”

  He admired his reflection in the shop windows as he walked to the shoe shop. At first he’d wondered why the man in the suit was staring at him, then he realised it was him and grinned. Georgia wouldn’t be able to keep her hands off him. The assistant in the shoe shop recognised Matt straight away: good haircut, fine quality but strangely ill-fitting suit and trainers. He left the shop twenty minutes later wearing smart black lace-ups; the old Matt contained in a carrier bag.

  *

  God this man’s a bore, Georgia thought. She’d hoped for a quick couple of Rabbits and home to Matt. She’d decided to try and talk to him, make him open up. She loved him too much to let the current coldness continue. But this first one was droning on about his model helicopter; she’d already spent her maximum time allowed with him: an hour and a half.

  “Do excuse me a moment,” she said, cutting across his explanation of what paint he used on the pilot. She walked to the exit and kept on walking; the wife would be told that he wasn’t up for it.

  At least the second one sounded nice. As she was running late she took a cab to the bar where Rabbit II should be waiting. There wasn’t a photo but the client described him as very tall, smart, dark haired and he’d be sitting by the bar. Only one man at the bar met that description. Georgia thought he looked a bit like Matt. Matt after a team of stylists had dedicated a few hours to him. The penny dropped halfway over to where he sat.

  “Matt! What on earth are you doing here?” She noticed his clothes and haircut at the same time and was caught between which to look at first, her head bobbing up and down like a yo-yo.

  “Hello – I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Matt.” He held out his hand and smiled politely.

  “What’s going on?” For a second she wondered if the whole doppelganger theory was laid out in front of her, the theory that everyone had a double walking around the planet somewhere.

  “I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Duh! You know my name.” She decided to humour him and shook his hand. “I’m Georgia.”

  “No you’re not – you’re Lisa.”

  “Do we have to do this?” Her temper simmered and normally he’d take it as a signal to back off. But not today.

  “What? I’m not allowed to use the service?”

  “Matt,” she pleaded.

  “What would you like to drink, Lisa?”

  “Vodka and Diet Coke please.” Her bottom lip jutted out and he was pleased that he was getting to her.

  “Excuse me please! Barman!” Matt shouted and waved. All it took was for the barman to snigger and he’d lost. The barman sneered at him but took his order.

  “Matt, this is silly,” Georgia said.

  “Would it help if I put on an American accent?”

  “That was a cheap shot.”

  He showed no signs of acknowledging her response and carried their drinks to a table.

  “Funny you should pick vodka and Diet Coke. Same as my wife. Oops – didn’t you realise I’m married?”

  She hesitated about sitting but he patted the seat next to him as you would to encourage a dog or small child.

  “No,” she frowned, “you’re not wearing your ring.”

  He took a long drink of his beer.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “My wife doesn’t understand me.”

  “How can you say that?” She couldn’t mask the hurt in her voice.

  “Well – Lisa – I think she’s moved on in her life and I don’t fit in anymore. She doesn’t need or want me.”

  “That’s not true!”

  “Yes it is. She’s changed. All she can think about is her business and making money.”

  “She’s trying to build a future for you both.”

  “Nah, it’s more than that. It’s becoming all-consuming. She’s made it quite clear that she can’t waste her time on me anymore. We have to do things her way or I can take a hike.” He leant closer to her and spoke knowingly. “There’s this American chap too. I don’t think she’s having an affair but she’s getting close. He seems to offer her things I can’t.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true,” Georgia fought back tears.

  “All the things she used to love about me she now wants to change. I don’t want money – I want her snuggled up to me on the sofa. She can’t even be bothered to throw my Radiohead t-shirt in the bin anymore. I grow things from seed —” Georgia raised her eyebrows at him and he conceded her point, “OK, I try to grow things from seed. She used to love it. Now she looks at my efforts and sees pots of dirt where she used to see what I see – a potential tree for our children and grandchildren to sit under. I’ve always been a romantic. She doesn’t want that anymore. I was growing mushrooms in her wardrobe and she threw my log in the bin. It might as well have been a piece of my heart.”

  “She didn’t realise.” The first tear ran down her cheek and fell undisturbed.

  “She would have a year ago.” He fiddled with his beer bottle, trying to peel the foil from the neck. “I’m scared she’s going to leave me. She’s my anchor. Without her I won’t last a day.”

  Neither spoke for what seemed like ages. Georgia stared at a woman at the neighbouring table with a large tiger tattoo at the base of her spine. Every time she leant forward her waistband lowered and the tiger played peek-a-boo over her belt. Matt stared at Georgia staring. She turned back suddenly and Matt rapidly looked away.

  “Can we stop pretending I’m called Lisa?”

  Matt nodded.

  “It was the only way I could think of making you sit down and talk to me. Feels like I need to book an appointment these days. You’re always in such a rush.”

  “Tell you what,” she stroked his hand lightly. “How about we talk now? Anything – you pick the subject. I won’t even charge you for this appointment.” She held her deadpan expression for long enough so that he wondered if she was serious. She finally cracked and burst out laughing. “Your face!” He smiled shyly.

  “I might even sleep with you later – if you’re lucky,” she winked at him. The barman lighting the candle at their table glared at her; they’d had trouble with prostitutes in the past and he made a mental note to keep his eye on her.

  Georgia fingered the lapel of Matt’s jacket and opened it slightly to see who’d made it.

  “D’you know something? You’re the only man I’ve ever seen who can make a Helmut Lang suit look like shit.”

  “It’s a skill.”

  “But it’s lovely you’ve made such an effort. I can’t get over your hair, it looks wonderful – can I touch it?”

  “Of course you can.” He wanted to say that a wife shouldn’t have to ask permission to touch her husband, but didn’t. She stroked his hair and then brushed some of it the wrong way with her fingers to feel how bristly and tidy it was. He watched her impressed expression as she touched him. If they were going to make this work, he had to break out of his shell. He had to tell her what he felt.

  “Since I’ve been with you I’ve never felt lonely.” He noticed her puzzled look as he spoke without any warning or connection to their earlier conversation. “It may not sound much, but it is. I felt lonely every day of my life before I met you. I craved for someone to love me, to care about me. And the fact that the one person who chose to was you, well, it was the hundreds and thousands on top of the cherry on top of the icing on top of the cake.” She didn’t reply but she didn’t look like she was about to laugh at him either so he continued. “Do you know how you make me feel?”


  Georgia shook her head, wondering what would follow.

  “You know that feeling when you think you’ve finished a bag of Maltesers – but when you look in the bag there’s actually one left you didn’t see before and it feels magic? Like you’ve won some great prize? That’s how I feel every day with you. You are the bonus Malteser in the bag.” Shakespeare it wasn’t but it made his point.

  She kissed him and noticed how his lips quivered; she’d never seen him so nervous. “Where would I ever find another man like you?”

  “I’m not quite what you think I am – I’ve got some things I need to confess. Things that bother me.”

  She removed her hand from his face and leant away from him.

  “Like what?”

  “God this is difficult.” His palms felt greasy so he rubbed them on his trousers. “When your computer crashed at the LSE library and I turned up to fix it – I’d waited for you to go off and find a book and I made it crash. I couldn’t think how else to talk to you. I fell in love with you at Fi’s party but knew you wouldn’t accept a date with me – I crashed your computer so you’d think I was great when I fixed it for you.” His tone was solemn and Georgia bit her lips to stop herself from laughing.

  “Oh. I never realised that.” She’d watched him do it. At 6 foot 4 and looking like Stig of the Dump, Matt had been pretty conspicuous.

  “I know. There’s more too. Your dressing table stool that creaks. When I made it I had three screws left over – I should’ve tried harder to find where they went. But I didn’t. I threw them away.”

  “You told me it creaked because that’s what wood does.”

  “I lied.” He cowered as if expecting punishment.

  “Anything else? While you’re confessing all your dark deeds you might as well mention them all. I only hope there isn’t anything worse to come.” She’d never wanted to laugh as much as she did right then.

  “One more I’m afraid. When the Evening Standard emailed me about wanting to interview Larry I deleted it and wasn’t going to tell you about it. But I felt too guilty and retrieved the email. That’s everything now.”

  “Oh. Right.” She was actually a bit annoyed at the last one but let it pass. It was time to be magnanimous. “So, those are the reasons I shouldn’t like you. Are there any reasons I should love you?”

  “Reasons? Fousands of ‘em,” he said in his appalling Michael Caine voice but she giggled anyway, as she always did. He watched her laugh before deciding to stifle it.

  “You haven’t had an affair have you?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Were you tempted?”

  She shifted in her seat wondering how to word it. He’d been honest with her and he deserved some back.

  “Yes but not to the extent I would ever have gone through with it. It was something exciting to think about. Like a teenage fantasy. It’s a bit embarrassing really – when you’ve been off the market for so long it’s nice to get proof that you’re still desirable.”

  “But I could’ve told you!”

  “You’re biased,” she said and gave his upper arm a light punch. “I was flattered that someone like – him – was interested. Flattered, but not enough to be stupid.”

  “You haven’t slept with him then?” His face was sad.

  “No! I’ve not slept with anyone else since I’ve been with you.” She prayed that he wouldn’t ask whether they’d kissed.

  “But you were tempted?”

  “Is that what this image change is all about? You thought I wanted you to be more like Joshua Daniels?”

  “Suppose.”

  “Matt – I love you. I love you for who and what you are. Not what you could be. I don’t want you to start wearing suits. I can’t recall the last time I saw you look so uncomfortable.”

  “Can I take the tie off?”

  “Please do.” She smiled as he grappled with it, only succeeding in knotting it tighter and half-strangling himself. She removed his hands and undid it for him. He blinked at her gratefully.

  “Thanks.” He glanced at his watch. “You’ve been here almost an hour. What are you going to tell my wife when you report to her tomorrow?”

  “Good point. I need to move things to a close.” She slid her hand up his thigh, noticing how different it was to feel an expensive fabric rather than his usual old jeans. She locked her eyes on his. “God you’re gorgeous. Helmut Lang suits really do it for me. How about it?”

  They bought burgers en route and ate them on the train home. Matt got ketchup down his suit but she placated him that it would come out at the dry cleaners. She prodded him suddenly.

  “Put your wedding ring back on.”

  He scrabbled in his pocket and complied, his heart skipping at her demand.

  Chapter twenty-six

  When Georgia woke she did a double take at the man lying next to her in bed until she remembered Matt’s new haircut. It seemed strange watching him sleep and there not being any hair to push out of his eyes. He looked delicious. She kissed him and he wriggled in his sleep.

  “Peduncles.”

  She didn’t have a clue what it meant and that’s what made him so wonderful. His brain didn’t function like hers, his views didn’t always fit in with hers; all the time she’d been looking for excitement and it was lying next to her!

  She pressed herself against him, annoyed he could sleep when she wanted him. He groaned but didn’t wake. She snaked her hand under the duvet, down his body and caressed him.

  “Are you awake?”

  “I should say. Who could sleep through that?” He grinned at her, his short hair giving him a cheeky quality she hadn’t noticed before. “Tell you one thing – if you could invent an alarm clock like that, no man could ever say he overslept again.” He smiled at her before softly adding, “I love you so much Georgia.”

  “Hmm. I know.”

  He prodded her.

  “Your turn.”

  She rolled half onto his chest carefully avoiding his bruise, her face inches from his.

  “I love you Matt,” she whispered breathily, then frowned. “I never gave you your anniversary present.”

  “I refuse to let you out of this bed to get it. I bought you a jewellery box – it’s wooden with inlaid decoration. Fifth anniversaries are wood apparently. Whatever that means.”

  “It sounds lovely.” She kissed his chest. “Thank you. I bought you a mini fridge. I noticed in the summer that your secret chocolate stash in the office goes a bit gooey – thought you could keep it in the fridge and it would be nicer.”

  “You know about my secret chocolate stash? Does that explain the mysterious disappearance of the Bountys? I thought I was going mad!”

  “Guilty.”

  He chuckled and tucked her hair behind her ears. A noise from outside caught their attention. Several car doors banged shut and voices shouted to each other. They ignored it but when it increased rather than died away Georgia got annoyed.

  “Some people have no respect for Saturday mornings. Don’t they realise that people are still in bed?”

  Matt looked at the alarm clock.

  “It is nine o’clock. It’s hard to complain. Maybe it’s that house opposite. The ‘sold’ board’s been up a while. Maybe they’re moving.”

  “Go and have a look. See if they’ve got any good furniture – I never liked her; I saw her putting her Tesco’s bags into M&S carriers to make out she did her shopping there. She ate M&S like we do the weekly shop at Fortnum and Mason’s.”

  Matt edged to the window and stared.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “Bit odd really. There’s a group of people chatting, they’re standing at the end of our drive. Don’t seem to be doing much. Can’t see a removals van or anything.” He climbed back under the duvet, pulling her roughly towards him by her hips. “When are we going to sign the contract to sell Blokebusters then?” he asked. Her reaction told him it wasn’t the right time to mention it.

 
“I don’t know.”

  “We are selling? Right?”

  “Yes. Of course we are.”

  “But you can’t decide which contract to sign?”

  “Don’t say it like that,” she groaned.

  “But I thought… after last night… I never dreamt… ” He couldn’t make a proper sentence out of it.

  “I can’t just stop working. I’d be bored. What would I do with my time? If you were being rational you’d accept that!”

  “We’re going to get four million pounds! You don’t need a job that would push you so hard, put so much strain on us! You could work part time – somewhere nice like a sweetshop.”

  “I like the business,” she said, amazed at how little he understood her need for mental occupation.

  “Can’t you see that by running a business to help other women, you’re ruining yourself and your own marriage? Do you know how close I’ve come over the past couple of weeks to packing a bag and leaving?”

  “You never said!”

  “No, I didn’t. Because I always honestly believed that if I could only talk to you, express how I felt, what you mean to me, you’d realise that your future was with me. Not the business.” He stared at his bruised stomach, his dark eyelashes contrasting with his skin.

  She realised how difficult it was for him to talk like that and wished an impartial third party could come in and tell them who was being unreasonable. She didn’t know if it was him or her. She silently counted to ten to make sure her temper was under control.

  “How about I make us some breakfast – bring it up here and we discuss it properly? No shouting, well, I won’t shout. You can promise not to go quiet and sulky on me,” she said.

  “OK.”

  She slipped her robe on and slid her feet into her towelling slippers. The newspapers were on the doormat and she picked them up, carrying them into the kitchen. She filled the kettle and flicked the ‘on’ switch. Gyp curled around her legs and she made his breakfast first. She hadn’t even taken her hand off the dish before he started eating. As if on autopilot she dropped four pieces of bread into the toaster and moved the setting to a high number: Matt loved his toast nearly burnt. Whilst waiting for all the technology to work it’s magic, she unfolded her paper and gasped.