Cloudy with a Chance of Love Read online

  I tried to feed the pasta dough through the machine but I was struggling; it was just coming out of the machine in dripping lumps.

  ‘Are you all right there?’ asked Dex. He was quite the expert at this, I noticed. He was swiftly feeding in his dough and out were coming smooth, perfect cannelloni sheets.

  ‘No!’ I laughed.

  ‘Want some help?’

  ‘Yes, please!’

  He commandeered my machine and did it for me, and as I stood behind him, I had the urge to put my arms round him, like husbands and wives sometimes do when one of them is waiting for the kettle to boil or they’re chopping carrots, or something. Jeff never did it, and if I ever came up behind him and hugged him, he didn’t like it; he said he didn’t care for being taken unawares, which was ridiculous – he wasn’t in the SAS, for goodness sake!

  I didn’t do it, but it didn’t matter. The anticipation of it – the charge of that gap between Dex and me – felt amazing. I felt like, if I could just reach out and touch him, he would be mine.

  ‘Brilliant!’ I said, when he’d finished expertly making my pasta sheets, had rolled all my cannellonis for me and put them on my baking tray. ‘Another moment?’

  ‘What can I say?’ he shrugged. ‘I may have hosted a few very successful dinner parties…’

  I smiled as I took a glug of champagne. I could see him now, in his bachelor pad, whipping up gourmet food for all his friends, uncorking champagne and telling fabulous anecdotes that had everybody laughing. He’d have dark oak flooring, stark white walls and loads of chrome and modern art everywhere. He’d have fresh flowers and a state-of-the-art sound system. It was a very aesthetically pleasing picture. Then I popped myself in it – by his side, in a little cocktail number, while he breezed from kitchen to dining room (or was it open plan? Yes, open plan, definitely) in a sexy pair of jeans and a white shirt. I’d help him out with his food prep and the arranging of his blooms; I’d join him in the all-white kitchen for a bit of stirring… I imagined joint hands on a wooden spoon whisking the gravy, leading to a quick dash upstairs for a bit of afternoon delight…

  ‘Right, my lovely daters,’ called out Johnny, shattering my lovely, and rather sexy, reverie. ‘Time to get your beautiful cannellonis in the oven. Let’s make a little love!’ He stepped towards the huge stainless steel range at one end of the room and projected his arm towards it with a flourish, like a musical conductor.

  We all dutifully marched over, holding our baking trays. Sam was flushed and seemed more than a little sloshed. Her tray was at a dangerous angle and looked like its contents might slide to the floor any second. I righted the tray for her, after removing a portion of her hair, which had flopped into it, and helped her put it in the oven.

  ‘I need the loo,’ she said. ‘Come with me?’

  We headed back down the uneven hall – we were ready for it this time – and into the ladies.

  ‘So?’ she said, as fiddled with the lid of her lip gloss. ‘How’s it going? Who’s your guy?’

  ‘Dex.’

  ‘Ooh, swanky. He’s very handsome. I’ve got a Simon. He’s lovely!’

  ‘Good, I’m glad. He does look nice. Are you hammered already?’

  On cue, she staggered against the floor-to-ceiling mirror. I caught her and set her back upright.

  ‘Thank you. Yes, I am a bit. I think I’d still really like him, though, even if I wasn’t. He really is really, really nice. Really nice. And look at his hair! He has perfect hair. You know what, this could be it! The prediction could be coming true for me, Daryl.’ She leant against the mirror and turned to face me. ‘It’s really, really hot in here, isn’t it? You know, the heat! The prediction. I knew it.’

  ‘It is really hot in here. I hope this is it for you, Sam. I really do.’ I was so happy and excited myself, and a bit tiddly, too. The champagne was delicious. The stupid prediction was coming true for us, wasn’t it? It would be amazing. We’d both fall in love on the same night (me in a totally fun and won’t-ever-get hurt, sexy way, of course. Not real love); we could go out on foursomes; we could join up for romantic city breaks…

  ‘And what about you?’ slurred Sam. ‘You really like him, don’t you? It’s written all over your face.’

  ‘I have to admit, he is rather gorgeous.’

  ‘And is he nice?’

  ‘Really nice. And a great cook, surprisingly.’

  ‘Ooh, a great cook! We could all do with one of those! Oh-em-gee, Daryl, he could be it!’

  ‘He could be,’ I grinned. ‘I would love to date him, definitely. See how things go.’

  ‘Grab him while you can!’ said Sam.

  ‘Let’s see what happens,’ I laughed, but I was already anticipating Dex asking for my number and tonight being the start of a beautiful, highly sexy friendship…

  ‘I’m so excited!’ said Sam, and she tried to grab me in a kind of a squeeze, but missed and went crashing against the sinks. She got water splattered all down her dress and I had to dab her off with some loo roll.

  When we finally emerged, the cannelloni had ten more minutes. We walked back to the island. Simon looked ecstatic to see Sam and she almost ran over, as much as her heels would allow.

  Audrey glared at me as I took my seat next to Dex, especially as he’d pulled out the stool for me and had watched me all the way from the archway. His eyes upon me had felt marvellous. I was naked with the spatula again, and I was beginning to get really comfortable with it.

  ‘And now we wait,’ said Dex, his eyes eating me up.

  ‘Yours is going to be magnificent,’ I said.

  ‘And so will yours,’ he replied, ‘seeing as I did all of it!’

  ‘Ha ha.’ He was making me laugh; I liked that. And we looked good together. We seemed to fit. We were the finest couple there. Dex laughed at everything I said. He looked at me, really looked at me, rendering me insensible. He asked me questions about myself – it seemed like he really wanted to know. He lightly touched my arm. His fingers grazed the back of my hand. He was so interested and I loved it. He said things like, ‘You’re fruity,’ and I replied with things like, ‘I know.’ He couldn’t be more charming, I couldn’t be more responsive. I was lapping up his attention like a cat at a bowl of cream.

  The night was actually turning out to be fantastic. All around us everyone was flushed, animated, laughing and loud and there was a delicious smell of garlic and herbs and basil in the air; I could see it getting wild. Sam was virtually sitting on Simon’s lap and he was giggling. Edward left the seat next to me and dragged his stool round the island to Anthony and The Sphinx. They were engaged in an animated conversation which – if I was hearing correctly – was about the south of France and the various virtues of Nice’s Old and New Towns. Even Audrey started joining in with it, from across the island.

  ‘I’m really looking forward to the cannelloni,’ I said. ‘Shame about my scallops, though. I wouldn’t have fed those to a dog.’

  ‘No,’ he said, ‘they were pretty bad. I don’t think the dog would have wanted them.’

  I thought of a joke. ‘They weren’t the dog’s scallops, then?’ I suggested.

  ‘Ha ha!’ His face was full of merriment and interest. I was making him laugh; he liked me; I fancied the pants off him. ‘I don’t think cooking’s really your thing,’ he added. ‘Perhaps stick to the Pot Noodles?’

  ‘Cheeky!’ I retorted, playfully poking him in the ribs.

  The cannelloni was ready. We all trotted over to the oven to collect them. Mine and Dex’s did look delicious and once we’d brought them back to the island, he tucked into his with gusto. I liked a man who liked his food; I couldn’t bear a picky man… Sam told me she once had a boyfriend who only ate chips, but I would have viewed that as a dumping offence, definitely. Dex was a nice eater, not sloppy or noisy or ill-mannered, in fact I couldn’t find any fault with him at all. He was pretty much perfect.

  ‘And now, my beautiful – slightly drunken – lovers,’ announced Johnn
y, ‘it’s time for your just desserts and we are going to be making one of Italy’s finest puddings, tiramisu.’

  Ooh, that sounded delicious. It was also fairly easy to make, wasn’t it? Surely even I couldn’t go wrong with it? The waitress girl brought round trays of ingredients and placed them in front of us. I scanned my eyes over the sugar, the eggs and the mascarpone cheese and then examined the accompanying recipe card. This really shouldn’t be that difficult. I tried my level best. Or not so level – Dex’s was great; mine was a kind of slop. How could it end up so liquid? I consulted the instruction card again. Had I missed off an ingredient? Done something catastrophically wrong? I couldn’t find anything; I must just be inept – even my dusting of cocoa powder was a disaster. I looked at Dex; he was dusting his through a sieve, at a great height. I had sort of just plonked mine on, and it had not only gone into thick, lumpy globules, but all over the table. My tiramisu was a disaster and looked like someone had sat in it.

  Dex peered at it and burst out laughing.

  ‘Shall I just scrape it into the bin now, to join the scallops?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, I think that’s all you can do. Don’t worry, you can share mine.’

  ‘You’re my saviour.’

  He smiled. I smiled back at him. He was looking at me intently; I returned the compliment. This was the real deal, wasn’t it? Requited interest, mutual attraction. It was bloody thrilling. Eating a pudding had never been so sexually charged. When the last mouthful was left on the plate, we both sat poised with our spoons, grinning at each other.

  ‘You have it,’ said Dex, and I had never felt so deliciously self-conscious in my life. I even made a thing of licking the spoon seductively. Oh lord, I hoped I looked seductive, and not like an idiot auditioning for a porn film – the dreadful, hammy woman who calls for the plumber and then has to service him. Please, please ask for my number tonight, I prayed.

  ‘I like you, Daryl,’ said Dex as I laid the spoon down in my bowl. His eyes were all shiny, his lips looked all inviting. He was leaning towards me.

  ‘I like you too, Dex,’ I said, blushing like crazy. Was he going to kiss me? He had that sort of look in his eye. He leaned away again. No, not yet, not here. Maybe on our first date, I thought. I was pretty sure there was going to be one and perhaps the first of many. I couldn’t wait.

  From the corner of my eye I could see some arms flapping, from across the table. It was Sam, trying to get my attention. She gave me a drunken grin and a thumbs up, and I grinned back. This was the best night I’d had for ages. This was what I’d wanted when I’d chucked my ring in that fountain: fun and freedom and flirting and good times with sexy, available men… and Dex had delivered it to me on a plate. This was it!

  Dex excused himself to go to the men’s. Johnny had just brought out petit fours, witnessed us demolish them in minutes, and announced that the night was over. People started standing up and getting themselves together. There was a flurry of scraping stool legs and downing of dregs from glasses. The waitress girl packed up leftovers into posh, brown cardboard doggy bags, and I gave her a hand; there were an awful lot of scallops left over. Audrey was scowling again. She had obviously not got lucky, even with Edward. There would be no strolling round the Old Town with him, any time soon.

  Dex reappeared. Anthony, who hadn’t got lucky either, by the look of it, came ambling over. He was super polite and had a very, very posh accent. Totally pissed though. He regaled us with the tale of his tiramisu, which remarkably resembled a cocoa-dusted puddle; it was still sitting on the island, glaring at him accusingly. I laughed and as I laughed, Dex kept looking at me and I kept looking at him. I was doing coy smiling under my eyelashes that Princess Diana would have been proud of. I wondered when he would ask for my contact details.

  I looked around for Simon and Sam, who were obviously in no hurry to leave - I spotted them snogging, in front of the Aga. She was clearly putting everything into it. She had her hand in his back pocket and was stroking his bum; he had cocoa powder in his hair.

  I decided I didn’t really like Anthony, despite the funny pudding story. He seemed a bit sleazy and I kept catching him staring at my boobs, his face all red.

  ‘Don’t mind Anthony,’ said Dex. ‘He’s had a skinful.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ I said, smiling at Dex. So he had a bit of a dickish friend? I could forgive him that. He was perfect in every other way.

  Finally, Johnny managed to usher us out.

  ‘Come on people,’ he boomed, as he walked past us unravelling his apron. ‘Let’s get you on your way. I’ve got an X-Box and a huge pizza to get home to.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  We stood outside in the car park, in front of the open gate in the hedge. The other daters peeled off into the night, some in cars, some in waiting taxis. Dex and I stood smiling at each other. I was tapping one boot on the concrete. Waiting. I was excited. This was it. This was the moment where he said he wanted to see me again and took my number. Or maybe even arranged an exact date. Date and time and location. I was already mentally planning what I was going to wear.

  It was chilly but I didn’t feel it. I was buzzing. Where was Sam? Oh, there she was, snogging Simon in the hedge. I wouldn’t be doing anything like that tonight. Dex and I were far too civilised for that sort of carry-on. I imagined our first kiss to be in front of an open fire, in his apartment, over a sophisticated glass of whisky; or on top of the London Eye, looking out across a twinkling city; or standing on one of the capital’s bridges (Tower Bridge maybe – yes that would do…), after a romantic dinner, the wind in our hair as we finally succumbed…

  ‘How are you getting home?’ asked Dex.

  ‘Taxi,’ I said. ‘You?’

  ‘Same,’ he grinned. ‘Did you pre-book?’

  ‘Yes, it should be here any minute.’

  ‘Great.’

  And then suddenly, without warning, Dex lunged at me. He grabbed me round the waist, got me in a kind of head-lock, planted his lips on mine and stuck his tongue straight into my mouth. I was so surprised. He pulled me into him so tight it almost hurt. He stuck his tongue in with such force it was truly horrible. He was like a ravenous, devouring vacuum cleaner with too strong suction.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ I shouted, pushing him away. ‘You can’t just grab me like that!’

  ‘Why not?’ said Dex, panting slightly. Oh god, he was coming for me again. What was he doing? ‘Come on, baby,’ he was saying, ‘I want to kiss you.’

  ‘Well, I don’t want to kiss you!’ I cried, pushing him away again so he was at arms’ length. ‘Not like that.’ This was all going horribly wrong. I’d fancied him, I really had. I’d imagined us dating, kissing… the open fire… the whisky… London Bridge… but, this was no London Bridge! I didn’t want to be lunged upon, like this. This was not how it was supposed to be! This is not what I wanted!

  ‘Come on,’ he whispered, in a heavy drawl, and coming in for another lunge. ‘This is what you wanted, isn’t it? You’ve been wanting this all night.’

  ‘No it isn’t!’ I shouted, releasing myself from his octopus arms and toilet-plunger lips. ‘Not. Like. This. This is horrible. I liked you – how stupid was I? I thought you liked me – very stupid, obviously. I thought we could date…’

  ‘Date? This is the real world, my sweetheart! People didn’t come here tonight to date! Look at your friend over there, in the hedge.’ The hedge was half flattened now, by Sam and Simon and their championship snogging. ‘People come to these things for one thing only. I don’t know what dream world you’ve been in, darling. And actually I’m surprised, I thought you were up for it! You seemed to be – in there.’

  I shook my head sadly. All his earlier charm had vanished. Everything I had liked about him had gone up in a puff of horribly libidinous smoke. I had been in a dream world, hadn’t I? I thought a handsome, sexy man could actually like me, for me. Want to see me again. Want to date me. Want to wine and dine me and have romantic mome
nts with me. No, he just wanted to lunge at me, in a car park. And start calling me darling and sweetheart in a really revoltingly patronising way.

  A black cab turned up, its diesel engine chuntering.

  Dex tried to turn the charm back on again. He lowered his voice, held his hand out to me and gave me his best, handsome smile. ‘Come on baby, don’t be like that, let’s take this cab and go back to yours!’

  ‘I don’t think so!’ I didn’t find him handsome any more; I’d gone right off him. ‘And you shouldn’t be like that! You’re… horrible!’

  ‘All right, frosty knickers,’ muttered Dex, retracting his hand. ‘I’m sorry you gave me the wrong impression.’

  ‘What? But I didn’t!’

  I hadn’t, had I? Had I come across as some kind of desperate divorcee, up for a one night stand, some hanky panky with a man I’d just met? I’d never been that kind of girl – had I given Dex the impression I’d turned into one?

  ‘That’s what they all say,’ he said, with a horrible laugh. ‘Come on, Ant.’ Anthony was staggering out of the gate to the cottage with the gait of a constipated crab. He looked like he was going to fall over at any moment. Dex grabbed his arm and they started walking out of the car park.

  ‘Maybe we’ll have more luck down at The Limelight, Derek,’ Anthony was slurring, far too loudly.

  ‘Maybe, mate.’

  Derek! So everything about him had been fake. I stood there, shaking. I was utterly mortified and so angry. Angry with Dex – angry at myself. I should never have let Sam persuade me to come tonight! I should never have put myself in any kind of dating scene. This dating game wasn’t for me. I’d had a date last night with Ben, which I shouldn’t even have gone on, because there was absolutely no spark between us, and tonight I’d put myself out there, all hopeful and excited, like some kind of bloody twit, expecting a nice man to take my number and ask me out, when all I’d got was a horrid predator who thought I was easy and up for it and had launched himself on me like a rampant squid.