“A gold-plated one,” Connie replies, winking at me. “Studded with diamonds.”
I nod, and glance at Jake. His handsome face is completely neutral, and I have no idea whether he’s thinking this is a great idea, or getting worried that his one-night fling might be about to turn into something significantly more demanding. Still, I decide, this is a decision I have to make for myself, a decision that needs to be about my future, not one that is based on sex, no matter how potentially fantastic it might have been.
“I’m not saying yes,” I tell them. “It’s too big a deal, and I have a lot of things to consider. But I’ll think about it, okay?”
ChapterSeventeen
Jake has made it clear that the party needs to end at 12, as he has paying guests to consider. I see at least some of those paying guests – my nodding-acquaintance breakfast companions – getting on down to Queen B on the dancefloor, laughing their heads off.
Now that I’ve promised I’ll consider their offer, George and Connie seem intent on making the most of the rest of the night. They ply me with drinks, and share gossip, and tell me about the annual snowman contest in winter, and Connie shows me photos of her oldest son, Michael, who I haven’t yet met.
She hasn’t, at any stage, mentioned a husband or partner, and I do wonder about that – but tonight is most definitely not the night to inquire. Tonight, it is all about finding the fun. I see Jake moving through the crowds, laughing and chatting, and feel a tug of regret that it’s not the kind of fun I’d been anticipating. Every now and then he sees me watching, and gives me the kind of smile that tells me he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
Ah well, I tell myself – maybe it’s for the best. Maybe I was about to make a mistake. Or maybe I was about to have the best sex of my entire life, who knows?
I see Dan – easily identifiable with his bright green barnet – sidle towards the jukebox, and steel myself in case we’re about to be subjected to a blast of Slipknot. Instead, he has read the room, and the Beastie Boys come on, telling us we have to fight for our right to party.
“Ooh, I love this one!” declares Connie, earning a surprised look.
“What?” she says, laughing, “just because I look like Dolly doesn’t mean I only listen to Dolly! Come on, let’s dance…”
I decide that if I can’t beat them I might as well join them, and allow her to drag me to the centre of the room. A quick glance around assures me that I don’t need to worry about how I perform – this is an entire village full of people who all dance like nobody’s watching.
Jake joins us, and the surprises continue when he breaks out into a deeply unexpected hip hop routine, complete with jumps and spins and criss-crosses. We form a little circle around him, clapping our hands, Connie screeching with laughter as he starts body-popping.
“Pub Daddy!” she exclaims, waving her hands in the air. “You got some moves on you!”
He gives her a small bow, and we all pause as the song ends – that weird netherworld at a do when you’re not sure if you’re going to like the next one or not. Nothing worse, is there, than when you’re on a high from ‘I Will Survive’ and for some reason the DJ chooses that moment to bring everyone down with ‘Everybody Hurts’ by REM?
I needn’t have worried, as the next one up is ‘Jump Around’ by House of Pain, and within moments the entire room is doing as they’re told – and jumping around. I see George bobbing on his seat, and Connie is going full pogo, and the Betties are doing a gentle synchronised hop. I see Dan and Sophie screaming the lyrics at each other as they make giant leaps, and even Larry is joining in. The whole room seems to be shaking in time to the beat.
I see Matt behind the bar doing his own version even as he pulls pints, and Dr Wong still on a table, protecting her knees and keeping it small, and I see all of the people I have met tonight come together in one gloriously silly moment. I see Jake opposite me, grinning with complete abandon as he jumps, and the whole thing is so joyful that I can’t help feeling the same. I throw myself into it, knowing I’ll ache in the morning but just not caring – I am alive. I am among friends. I am, in all kinds of ways, jumping around.
Jake reaches out and takes hold of my hands, and we jump together, higher and wilder with each bounce, shouting along to the few words we know, collapsing against each other as it all finally comes to an end.
We twirl and spin and laugh, and I hear Connie mutter: “Crikey, that song lasts forever…” as she walks gingerly back to the table, rubbing her lower back as she goes.
“She’s not wrong,” I say to Jake, wiping sweat-stuck hair away from his forehead and smiling up at him. “Good cardio workout, that.”
“The best kind.”
“Almost,” I reply, winking at him. It’s infectious, I decide – stay here long enough and you have to wink at someone at least once a day.
I tell him I need a drink, and start to make my way to the bar. By this time the pace has slowed, a few people gamely left dancing to Johnny Cash and his ‘Ring of Fire’.
I sing along as I walk, still laughing inside, deciding that I have definitely found the fun today.
All of that changes when I look up, and see a solitary figure standing by the bar. He is still in his work suit, tie pulled down, hair uncharacteristically messy, a look of absolute shock on his face. I stop dead in my tracks, the song lyrics dying on my lips, the riot of noise around me fading to a static buzz. I stare at him, blinking rapidly to clear the sweat from my eyes, wondering if I am imagining it all.
“Hey,” he says, giving me a lopsided grin, the one that used to drive me crazy. I am most definitely not imagining it.
“Mark,” I say, forcing myself to stand next to him. “What are you doing here?”
His answer is lost to me, as Johnny chooses that moment to hit the chorus, and the whole pub joins in. I shake my head, and glance back. At the small ruck on the dancefloor, at Larry chasing me across the room. At Jake, who is walking towards us.
I feel trapped, and helpless, and confused. My lives have just collided, and I am caught in the crossfire. I want to run back to Jake, to explain, but I have no idea what I would say. Instead I meet his eyes, put as much reassurance into my expression as I can.
“Everything okay?” he asks, looking from me to Mark. He is not a fool, and he soon figures it out, I can tell.
