‘Do you think everyone drinks coffee? Maybe I should get some orange juice, too . . .’
‘Who cares what they drink? Come here, angel. I’m not done with you yet.’
‘No,’ I say, wriggling out of his grasp.
‘Abigail. I said come here,’ he says.
‘I’m not steak. You can’t just order me,’ I say. It’s a quote from Working Girl. I wonder if he got it. I shuffle off to the tiny en suite off my room and try to ignore the inevitable ‘he’s-looking-at-my-naked-arse’ thought.
Remain in control of this situation, Abigail, I think, turning on the shower.
‘Do you have any soap to drop?’ says Dave, stepping into the shower with me, and the next second he’s kissing me against the shower wall and well, again I must draw a veil over your eyes.
When I finally get downstairs, leaving Dave upstairs ‘to make some calls’, only Sophie and Luke are awake. They’re draped over each other on the sofa, watching French cartoons on TV.
‘Morning,’ I singsong. Looks like they’ve made up.
They both look over and smile. ‘Morning, sweetie,’ says Sophie.
‘Sorry about all the drama, Abigail,’ says Luke. He leans over to kiss Sophie’s head. ‘I was a brute. Your sister has forgiven me.’
‘I’m sorry too,’ says Bella, coming into the kitchen. ‘It’s all my fault.’ She walks straight over to Sophie and Luke. ‘I really am sorry, Sophie. I was so rude and I didn’t mean any of it. I was premenstrual and drunk and Ollie and I were fighting . . .’ Bella seems genuinely contrite. ‘Please forgive me?’
‘Of course!’ says Sophie, brightening. She is clinically unable to hold a grudge. ‘Are you and Ollie OK?’
‘Ha, sort of,’ grins Bella ruefully. ‘He ordered a taxi at 7 am and took the early flight home.’
‘Ah,’ says Sophie. Bella shrugs. I can’t read her face – is she upset or relieved? She’s so self-controlled.
‘Well, I’m going to get bread and croissants for breakfast,’ I say. ‘It’s lovely and sunny. We can eat in the courtyard. Back in 20 minutes.’
I’m so giddy with happiness, I have to fight the urge to skip up to the bakery. Just 24 hours ago, I hadn’t kissed Dave yet. Now I have. Our first kiss was right there, against that wall. And it was amazing. It was sparktastic. I can’t wait to do it again. I feel all hot and tingly at the thought.
But what if that was just one night for him? I feel a strange flutter of panic: I want him, and I desperately want him to want me . . .
Hang on. Did I just use the d-word? Desperate.
Fuck.
Stay in control, Abigail. Remember Robert’s tips. I can be cool and detached. And anyway, it can’t be just one night for him. Not the way he was looking at me, and the, frankly, utterly incredible sex . . .
‘Bonjour!’ I exclaim, walking into the boulangerie with a huge smile. Ten croissants, ten pain au chocolats, three baguettes and some brioches should do it. I also pick up some orange juice and some flowers for my mum.
When I get back to the house, Bella is lounging on the other couch, and Dave is lying on top of Luke and a shrieking Sophie.
‘Hold me,’ begs Dave. ‘You two have each other. All I want is a little cuddle. Maybe you could stroke my hair.’
‘I’m not going to cuddle you,’ says Sophie, giggling. ‘Get off. You’re squashing me.’
Standing up, Dave looks over and winks at me and I wink back. Suddenly I see Bella staring at Dave, and her gaze slowly moves to me. I look away, but not before I see the look of shock on her face.
She’s not over him, I realise. The idea makes my stomach flip.
‘I’m going to call Ollie,’ Bella says, bounding up and heading towards the stairs.
No, she’s fine, I tell myself as I walk into the kitchen. She’s calling her boyfriend. I’m imagining things.
Dave sits down on the other couch.
‘So, Luke, are you playing nice again? You know how much I hate fighting.’
‘Then stop fucking stirring everyone,’ replies Luke.
Sophie comes into the kitchen and sidles up to me, whispering: ‘Am I imagining things, or did you and Dave . . .?’
I meet her eye and grin. Sophie chortles with glee, and then, as Dave and Luke both look over, pretends to have a coughing fit. I deliberately hadn’t mentioned my uber-crush to Sophie, as I knew she’d tell Luke. (Not that I’d blame her, that’s how relationships work.)
‘Something funny to share with the rest of the class?’ calls Dave.
‘Scuse me, something in my throat,’ she says, taking the orange juice and glasses out to the courtyard.
‘Morning, all,’ says Robert, coming into the living room, followed closely by Vix. I look at them delightedly. They scored! I thought JimmyJames fancied Vix. Typical Robert. Oh well.
‘Coffee for you, sire?’ I say to Robert cheerfully, as Luke and Vix help Sophie carry the rest of the breakfast things outside.
‘Yes, please,’ he says. He’s not as grinny as I’d expect, having just scored with one of the bridesmaids. I would have thought that’d be the kind of thing that’d make him happy.
‘Victoria,’ I say, waggling my eyebrows at Vix, as we walk outside.
‘Calories don’t count in France, right?’ says Vix, picking up a pain au chocolat.
‘Not when you’ve burned them all off during the night,’ says Bella, coming back out into the courtyard. I glance up immediately, but she’s not looking at me. Guess Ollie didn’t answer her call.
‘I bloody love everything French,’ continues Vix airily, ignoring her. ‘French pastries, French wine, French cheese—’
‘French fries, French kissing—’ inserts Sophie.
‘Écoute, Robert,’ Vix calls into the kitchen. ‘We need more milk! How do I say milk in French?’
‘Lait,’ Sophie and I say in unison.
‘Plus de lait!’ she shouts. Robert returns with the milk, and Vix winks ostentatiously at him, mouth full of pain au chocolat. ‘Thanks for the lait.’
I smirk to myself. They’d make a good couple, wouldn’t they?
‘Please move to London,’ says Sophie mournfully to Vix. ‘I’m tired of only seeing you on one drunken weekend every three months. And I’m too old to make a new best friend.’
‘I might,’ replies Vix. ‘I’m running out of men in Edinburgh, fast.’
‘Sleep well, princess?’ I whisper, as I pour Robert some coffee. He looks tired, I suddenly notice.
‘Pretty good,’ he whispers back, putting his sunglasses on. ‘Well done, by the way. Looks like you made this weekend your bitch. Attagirl.’
‘High fives to me,’ I agree, smiling to myself.
Everyone’s eating with hungover enthusiasm. Dave is down the other end of the table, talking to Luke and Sophie about the wedding. It is just not fair the way men can wake up and look gorgeous even when they’ve been drinking. I needed ten minutes of careful make-up just to look human.
Suddenly, there’s a moan from the side of the courtyard, and a figure wrapped in the waterproof barbeque cover rolls across the courtyard, unravelling as it goes. It’s JimmyJames.
He has leaves