Husbands. Part 20

32. Treat Me Nice.

Laura.

I can't remember when I last had such a riotous time. I spent the morning in a spa, a treat paid for by my truly legend boyfriend, and the afternoon by the pool with said truly legend boyfriend and Phil. Bella went shopping and only came back to the pool late afternoon. Then she slept in the shade insisting that the sun was her worst enemy. An eminently sensible att.i.tude, no doubt, but not one I'm prepared to adopt, considering the dearth of suns.h.i.+ne in my life. Phil, Stevie and I had a hoot. We played cards practising for tonight when we plan to hit the casinos big-style. We splashed around in the pool and enjoyed vibrant-coloured c.o.c.ktails. At about four Stevie dragged himself away for the PR photo shoot. A bit of a bore but we can hardly complain a few duty calls while we enjoy all this seems fair enough.

'I'm going to go shopping. Do you want to come?' I ask Bella.

She squints at me, then feels around for her book, which is lying beside her sunbed.

'I'd love to, but I'm dying to know what happens in my novel and can't leave it alone.'

I don't comment on the fact that she wasn't reading it when I approached her but instead I ask, 'What are you reading?'

'Anna Karenina.'

'Come shopping, Bella. You've read it before you know how it ends. She s.h.a.gs the cute guy, can't live with the guilt of being an adulteress and tops herself.'

'It's not as straightforward as that. She was a martyr to her pa.s.sionate nature. She tried and tragically failed to live outside the customs of her time,' says Bella, with more commitment than I was expecting.

'No doubt, I must have missed something when I read it. The thing is, adulterers always dress up their sleaze, but in the end it's the same thing horrible,' I say. 'Anyway, on to brighter things, why don't we hit the shops? I want to surprise Stevie and buy something really glamorous to wear tonight. I want to look fabulous for him.'

Bella stares at me for the longest time, then asks, 'Can you afford it?'

I fight a blush. 'Well, no, not really. Not in the sense that the money is in my bank account but there's still s.p.a.ce on my plastic and I so want to look sensational.'

'Come with me.' Bella takes my hand and leads me back to the hotel.

'It's stunning,' I gasp.

We are in Bella's suite and the item I am referring to is a fuchsia-pink dress laid out on her bed. It's Matthew Williamson's peony dress that, to my certain knowledge, both Kate Beckinsale and Laura Bailey have been spotted in this spring. It's flirty and fun, and without doubt the most s.e.xy number I have ever had pleasure to set eyes on.

While I am thrilled for Bella, it must be a joy to own such a fabulous item, inwardly my heart sinks. Obviously, if she's wearing this tonight my need to shop is not only dire, it is life and death. I have nothing that can complement, let alone compete with, this dress. I surrept.i.tiously check my watch. It's ten to five and we're meeting Stevie in the bar at nine. Do I even have time to find something so wonderful? Is there anything else quite so lovely on the planet or, more practically, in the Vegas shopping malls? I am not normally this giddy over clothes and I'm not especially compet.i.tive over the last few years I've got used to Bella looking a million dollars and me looking... well, considerably less. But tonight I want to s.h.i.+ne. Tonight, I want to stand out. Because, tonight, I'm planning to tell Stevie exactly how I feel about him.

I know, I know, a girl is supposed to wait until the guy's made a declaration. It's more elegant, it's more refined and it's probably a d.a.m.n sight more sensible no one likes a knock-back. But I can't wait. I nearly blurted it out last night I would have, too, if Bella and Phil hadn't interrupted us. But maybe it's better that I've had to wait till tonight when I look groomed and cool. Last night I was s.h.i.+ny and glowing in the wrong sort of way.

I'm actually looking forward to telling him that since he came into my life everything has gone topsy-turvy. Everything that was dull and grim, has vanished. Everything that was fun and good, is better. I love the way he listens with seriousness to anything I have to say even c.r.a.p, like my ideas on where the storyline in Corrie is going. I love the way he has an opinion on where the storyline on Corrie is going. It's a genuine skill to be able to chatter nonsense and yet ask questions which show perception and intelligence. He thinks I have that skill. I think he has. He is funny, very, very funny. In a belly laugh type of way, not in the nasty too-clever-for-your-own-good type of way, which is so popular in London. He is razor-sharp, totally on the ball about all sorts of stuff. Music, the national curriculum and what's on at the movies are topics that are bound to be discussed in the staff room, but Stevie also knows about the latest white paper the government is trying to push through, literature, motorbikes, hunting rituals of ancient, nomadic African tribes. It might just be that the Scottish education system is broad, but it impresses me.

Then there's the other stuff. He looks at me and his eyes scorch my soul. Tattooing my heart and mind with a message of hope and promise. Plus, he is so crash hot in the sack it would be impossible not to love him. Vegas is the place where people come to gamble and to take risks. I'm placing my bet on the King of Hearts. The fact is, I will burst if I don't tell him.

'Are you wearing that dress tonight?' I ask, as I sit down on the bed. I'm still sticky with sun oil and sweat so I'm careful not to touch it. Typically Bella has laid the dress alongside beautifully coordinated accessories: a pair of killer heels, a sparkly bag and earrings. It looks like a fas.h.i.+on shoot. 'You could be a stylist, you know,' I tell her. I often suggest careers to Bella. It is a mystery to me how a woman so br.i.m.m.i.n.g with talent and intelligence has avoided making anything of herself.

'I don't think fuchsia pink is my colour,' says Bella.

I look at her quizzically. 'You have to wear it. This dress deserves an outing. It's an insult to the designer to leave it at home.'

'And it's a tiny bit long for me. Pink's your favourite colour, though, isn't it?' Bella delivers these lines with a broad grin.

'You're kidding!' The penny drops. She's offering it to me.

'No, I'm not kidding. I bought it for you or at least, Phil did. His cash, my choice. We wanted to thank you for bringing us on this fantastic break. That's what I've been doing all afternoon, shopping for you. Look, it's your size, the shoes too.'

I pick up the dainty, strappy shoes and carefully inspect them. They are beautiful, a spangled mix of diamante and satin, and entirely to my taste. Not quite as high as Bella would wear. She's put a great deal of thought into this gift. 'Oh my G.o.d,' I squeal. 'I'm going to look stunning.'

Bella starts to laugh. 'I like the modest you, it's refres.h.i.+ng,' she teases.

And then we hug each other. We often hug each other h.e.l.lo and goodbye, when Eddie says something super-sweet, or when either of us just needs a hug. But there hasn't been much hugging between us recently and I only realize as much when Bella grasps me. The hug started with me grabbing her but now she won't let me go. Slowly, carefully, I break away from her. I look down at the girl in front of me. It must be the height thing because she looks as vulnerable as a brittle stick. One blow and she'd snap.

'Hey, Bella, are you OK?' She looks close to tears.

'I'm glad you like it. I didn't want you to think I was being flash.'

'Be as flash as you like, babe, especially since you have such great taste,' I joke. I sit on the bed and start mooning over the dress. I can't believe it's mine, I can't wait to try it on but I need a shower first.

'I do remember, you know,' says Bella. 'I remember wanting to buy expensive things and not being able to afford them.'

'Hey, babe, I know. We've spent many a happy hour playing imaginary purchasing,' I grin.

Bella and I used to play a game where we'd sit and flick through a magazine, Vogue or even the Argos catalogue, it didn't matter. The idea was we'd choose one item from each page as our imaginary purchase. The rules were, only one item however many you coveted on a particular page and you had to have something, even if it was a page selling the latest range of commodes.

'No, I mean before that. You and I were always broke but we weren't poor. We could pay our rent and buy food. I'm talking about being poor. As a kid, after my mum died and my dad stopped going out on the boat. Without him fis.h.i.+ng, we had no money. I mean no money, Laura.' Bella turns to me and looks me straight in the eye. 'We couldn't afford any new clothes, not even pants and socks.'

'How did you manage?'

'We had good neighbours. They gave us stuff to tide us over until the boys were old enough to work. I just-' She can't finish the sentence. 'It was pretty miserable. Things aren't always what they seem. Not everything is straightforward. That's all I'm trying to say.'

I have no idea why Bella chooses to confide this in me now, especially after years of being very closed about her childhood but I know it's important. I also know she's not prepared to share any more when she says, 'Anyway, go and get your gladrags on. I need a bath.'

33. Hard Headed Woman.

Bella.

'Hi, Amelie, it's me.'

'Ermph?' Amelie makes a sound that isn't a recognizable word. I check my watch.

'Oh, s.h.i.+t, sorry. I forgot all about the time difference. It must be... what?'

'One in the morning,' she mumbles.

'Sorry, I'll go.'

'Don't you dare! I want the latest instalment. Wait till I get a gla.s.s of water.' After a minute, she returns to the phone somewhat refreshed. 'So what's up? Has it all gone bang yet?'

'No.' I can barely disguise my irritation. I wish Amelie wasn't quite so certain that this situation is going to explode. Why won't she humour me and let me believe there might be a pain-free exit?

'So, what have you been doing?'

'I spent the morning by the pool.'

'Alone?' she asks suspiciously. How does she know?

'With Stevie.'

'Nice,' she mutters, with heavy sarcasm.

'And this afternoon I went shopping for Laura.'

'A guilt purchase?'

'No. A thank-you present,' I insist, huffily.

'Having a good time then?'

'Sort of.' I pause.

Where do I begin? I am so confused. I cannot find any clarity no matter how much I search my head or even my heart. I need to talk to someone about this but my usual options of Phil or Laura are non-starters. I don't get the feeling that Amelie is going to be especially sympathetic either but I'm so desperate I blurt out what's in my mind.

'What if I've married the wrong one?'

'Which one are you talking about? You're married to both of them,' replies Amelie flatly.

'I have feelings for Stevie,' I confess.

'What sort of feelings?'

I can't tell Amelie that I keep stealing glances at Stevie's muscled arms, chest and shoulders or admit that I find his lean stomach fascinating and the thin line of hair that leads to the contents of his swimwear is as enticing as the Yellow Brick Road. The problem is he's s.e.xy. Not in an obvious way well, actually yes, he's s.e.xy in an obvious way but he's also s.e.xy in a funny, quirky way. He's what he always was. I squirm on my seat and concentrate on the feelings I can tell Amelie.

'He's easy to talk to. After all, I've known him forever.'

'You haven't spoken to the man for eight years. You don't know him. It's a common desire endless intimacy. But you haven't known anyone forever and nor has anyone known you that long.'

'I think about him all the time,' I whisper.

'In what way?' she asks, seriously.

'In that way. The way women think about men.' I'm hedging. 'Being with him feels special. Do you think that's telling?'

'What do you want to be told?' asks Amelie. 'I can't answer the question, Bella. I'm as new to this situation as you are. I don't know how you're supposed to feel.'

I'm probably not supposed to feel l.u.s.t, or longing or loyalty, I'm almost certain of that. 'I don't want to think about Stevie. I'm trying not to.'

'But you have to try?'

'Yes, and even then I fail. I'm really trying to be sensible. I'm not drinking.'

'Good idea.'

'Well, at least, not when I'm with Phil.'

'Wouldn't it be more sensible not to drink around Stevie?'

'Maybe.' I own up. 'I'm so confused. I've changed my mind about five times since I arrived here.'

'Where does that leave you? Back where you started?'

'I don't know. Dizzy. Today, when we were alone together in the pool I found myself employing that trick you taught me for my wedding day.'

'What?'

'Preserving two or three unforgettable details that can't be captured on film.'

'And what did you capture?'

'The smell of suns.h.i.+ne and sun lotion on warm flesh and the sunlight on the pool surface.'

'I meant on your wedding day to Phil,' clarifies Amelie, starkly.

'Oh.' I'm startled. 'Erm, lilies, I think, and the feel of Phil's jacket when he put it round my shoulders in the car as we left the reception.'

'That's what you need to be concentrating on,' advises Amelie sternly.

I rush at the only question I really want an answer to, 'Do you think it's possible to be in love with two men at the same time?'

'No,' she replies flatly.

'But people are!' I insist. 'That's why there's that song, "Torn Between Two Lovers".' I start to hum the lines about not knowing who to choose and breaking rules.

Amelie impatiently interrupts me, 'You asked if I believe it's possible to love two people and I don't. True love is all-absorbing. It's possible to be curious, infatuated, wistful maybe...'

I get the point she's making but I don't like it much. I try to ignite her sympathies. 'It must be a truly pitiful position to be in, though, don't you think? If, say, inadvertently you found yourself in love with two men at the same time. I mean, especially if you were married to both of them as well.'

'Bella! All I can see here is how awful it is to be Laura or Philip. You're not in love with Stevie. I don't even believe you're particularly well suited. It's easy to be sentimental when you're striving for closure.'

'But he's really hot!' I blurt.

'Closure is always more tricky to attain with s.e.x-G.o.d types but don't get it mixed up, Bella. Don't risk everything you have with Phil, just for s.e.x.'

'If it's only s.e.xual attraction then maybe I should just s.h.a.g him and be done with it. That would help me put an end to it, hey?' I've expressed my most secret fantasy in the guise of a jest.

Amelie isn't fooled. 'Don't joke about affairs, Bella.'