The Accidental Proposal (28 page)

‘Bingo,’ says Dan, proudly. ‘Because?’

‘Because . . . that way you’ve usually got their name, instead of just a scrap of paper with just a number on it, which you can’t possibly call, because you can’t remember who you’re calling.’

‘Exactly. So turn out your pockets.’

I stand up and reach into each pocket in turn, but apart from some fluff, my keys, my wallet, and for some reason, a lime tic-tac, there’s nothing.

‘Maybe I lost it,’ I suggest.

‘Or maybe you didn’t get it in the first place,’ he says. ‘In both senses of the phrase. Let’s turn the clock back to last night.’

‘I wish I could.’

‘So, you were pretty drunk, right?’

My stomach starts to lurch. ‘Don’t remind me,’ I say.

‘And what do you get like when you get drunk?’

I pour myself a coffee from the jug the waitress has just deposited on the table. I can already feel this turning into rather a long morning. ‘Well, happy, normally. And tired.’

‘And do you normally walk round a nightclub and chat up women?’

‘Well, seeing as I can’t normally walk, no.’

Dan smirks. ‘And do you think you could have maybe got up and danced, thus impressing whoever it was with your silky dance-floor moves?’

‘Dan, I dance about as well as you do advanced mathematics even when I’m sober. Anyway, you’re forgetting something.’

‘What?’

‘She might have come on to me.’

It takes Dan a good couple of minutes to stop laughing. ‘Yeah, right,’ he says, eventually.

‘It could have happened.’

‘Sure. There’s you, probably sitting in a corner somewhere, drooling drunk, maybe even nodding off a little, and some woman came over to you and started chatting you up?’

‘It’s possible, I suppose,’ I say, trying to ignore Dan’s look of disbelief.

‘While you were wearing that fat suit?’

‘Some women like a . . . ahem,
larger
gentleman.’

‘Tell me, Edward, when Jane left you, and you were
actually
that fat, did anyone ever chat you up?’

‘No, but . . . I mean, it would have been a talking point, wouldn’t it? Like going out wearing a loud shirt.’

‘A talking point?’ Dan pours himself a coffee and takes a sip. ‘Only if the conversation started with the words “Who ate all the pies?” Either way, you must admit it’s looking rather unlikely. And even if it is likely, it certainly doesn’t seem you did it on purpose.’

‘What difference does that make?’

‘If a tree falls over in the forest, and there’s no one there to hear it, does it make a sound?’

‘What?’

Dan shrugs, as if he’s lost his own thread again. ‘And another thing. Why do you suppose she didn’t stay?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘The next morning. I mean, I usually can’t get rid of them. Why didn’t she hang about until you woke up? Ignoring the obvious, of course.’

‘You tell me.’ I say, not wanting to ask Dan what ‘the obvious’ is: something rude about my sexual performance, I’ll bet. ‘Maybe she was embarrassed. Maybe she had to get to work early.’

‘On a Sunday? And besides, if you had an early start, you’d hardly be out clubbing until the small hours the previous evening.’ He takes another mouthful of coffee. ‘Come on, now. You’ve met someone in a nightclub, and you’ve gone back with them to their hotel room. Why wouldn’t you stay the next morning? At least for breakfast.’

I shrug. ‘Maybe she wanted to avoid that embarrassing can’t
-remember-your-name stuff. Maybe she had to get home.’

‘What for?’

I shift awkwardly in my chair. ‘I don’t know, Dan. You’ve sneaked away often enough the next morning, so you tell me.’

‘She could be married.’

‘So?’

‘So in that case your secret’s safe. Or maybe she knows you – which means you knew her – so she knew the two of you would be embarrassed the next morning. Maybe she knew you were getting married the following week. Maybe . . .’ Dan stops talking and looks at me, an expression of horror on his face. ‘You don’t think it was . . .  No. Forget I said it.’

‘What?’

‘Your mystery woman. There’s a chance it could have been . . .’ He shudders, and downs the rest of his coffee anxiously. ‘No. The thought’s too horrible to contemplate.’

‘Who?’ I grab him by the arm. ‘You’re scaring me now.’

‘Think about it.’ He puts his cup down on the table. ‘Who’s got the most to gain from this wedding not going ahead?’

‘Well, there’s the caterers. I mean, they’ll get to keep their deposit, while not having to pay for any of the food . . .’

‘No, Ed, I mean who doesn’t want you to actually get married?’

‘I’ve always had my suspicions that Sam’s dad doesn’t think I’m good enough for his daughter. But I can’t see him doing something like this. You know, getting someone to sleep with me just so I— Ouch!’ I reach down and rub my shin, where Dan’s just kicked me under the table. ‘What did you do that for?’

‘Couldn’t think of a quicker way to shut you up. Not Sam’s dad. No one connected with Sam at all. In fact, someone a little closer to home.’

Maybe it’s my hungover brain, but I’m having trouble making out what Dan’s on about. Although to be honest, it’s not that easy even when I haven’t been drinking the night before.

‘Er . . .’

‘
Jane
, you idiot,’ shouts Dan, loudly enough for an old lady at the next-door table to spill her tea.

‘Jane?’ I stare at him for a second, almost unable to comprehend what he’s suggesting. ‘My Jane?’

‘No, Edward,’ sighs Dan, ‘I’m talking about Tarzan’s girlfriend. Of course your Jane.’

‘Why would she do something like this?’

‘Why do you think? The old green-eyed monster.’

‘Dan, please stop being rude about my ex-girlf—’

‘
Jealousy
, Ed. Think about it.’ Dan lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘She was none too pleased when you told her about the engagement, right?’

‘Well, no.’

‘So she’s obviously suffering from a severe case of the it-should-have-been-me’s.’

‘Maybe, but—’

‘But nothing.’ Dan nods smugly. ‘There’s motive for you, Sherlock.’

I stare at him, open-mouthed. ‘So you’re suggesting that Jane was so keen to stop this wedding from going ahead she somehow found out where my stag night was going to be, lay in wait in the club until I was too drunk to notice, then took me back to my hotel and’ – I swallow hard – ‘forced me to have sex with her?’

‘Yup.’

‘No, I can’t believe that,’ I say, shaking my head. ‘Surely she’s at the point now when she just wants me to be happy.’

‘From what I could tell, Jane didn’t want you to be happy for the ten years the two of you were together. Why do you think she’d want that now?’

‘Fair point. But how on earth would she have found out where—’ I stop mid-sentence, because Dan is suddenly looking very shifty. ‘How could you have?’

He backs his chair away from me. ‘Relax. You told me to tell Sam where we’d be, so she didn’t rock up and spoil it. I thought it was only sensible to do the same thing with Jane.’

‘Christ, Dan. Of all the stupid . . .’ I count to ten in an attempt to calm down, but by the time I’ve got to twenty I still don’t feel any better, so take a deep breath. And another. ‘Anyway. Assuming she did turn up, I can’t really believe that she’d be so . . .’

‘Devious?’ Dan makes a face. ‘Why not? This is the woman who moved out, took all her furniture with her, and headed off to Nepal without you knowing.’

‘Maybe so, but . . .’

‘And then she tried to split you and Sam up last year, don’t forget. Even though you’d told her the two of you were perfectly happy.’

‘But why would she resort to something like this?’

Dan narrows his eyes. ‘Probably so she can wait until the “anyone here know any reason why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony” bit, and then burst in and say, “Yes, I do, because the groom slept with me on his stag night.” She knows how honest you are, and you won’t dare deny it. Job done. Revenge for that little falling out she and Sam had last year, plus you single again.’ Dan sits back in his chair. ‘It’s the perfect plan, I think you’ll find. In fact, you’ve got to admire her cunning.’

‘Admire? That’s – No, I can’t believe it. Even of Jane.’

Dan gazes out of the window as a pretty girl jogs past along the seafront, his head nodding up and down to her rhythm. ‘Why not? She knows what you’re like when you get drunk, so she knew if she turned up and suggested the two of you go back to your hotel, you’d recognize her, but probably wouldn’t see anything wrong with it. Plus you know how she likes to make a scene. Yup, the more I think about it, it’s got Jane’s fingerprints all over it.’ He nods towards my groin. ‘So to speak.’

My head is starting to swim again, and not because of the second fry-up the waitress has just set down on the table in front of me, but because – what if Dan’s right? What if this
is
all part of Jane’s despicable plan to ruin the wedding?

‘But surely she’ll realize that’s hardly going to win me back?’

‘Why not? Even though you might think it’d be a cold day in hell before you’d go back out with her – which incidentally, is a pretty good description of how every day would be if you did – she might be banking on the fact that she’ll be there to pick up the pieces – you know, provide you with familiar comfort after Sam’s dumped you. At the very least she’ll have stopped Sam from getting you. And you know what her competitive streak is like.’

‘I’m sorry, Dan. I don’t believe she’d do something as low as this.’

‘Fine. But unless you want to spend the whole ceremony looking over your shoulder in case Jane appears, you’d better at least cross the possibility off your list.’

‘And how do I do that, exactly? By calling her up and saying “Excuse me, Jane, but I was wondering whether we slept together last night, because if we did, I’d rather you didn’t mention it to anyone.” And what if it
was
her?’ I add, my voice sounding more than a little panicky. ‘What do I do then?’

‘You could always have her killed.’

I look up at Dan, expecting to see him grinning, but he seems deadly serious.

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘Seriously. I know some people. Well, I know some people who know some people. Well, some people who
say
some people they know know some people . . . Anyway, that’s not important. Two hundred quid, apparently. And they can make it look like an accident.’ He leans over, and rests a hand on my arm. ‘In fact, forget the money. It can be my gift to you.’

‘You’re seriously suggesting you have my ex-girlfriend bumped off as a wedding present?’

Dan shrugs. ‘Why not? It’s better than that crappy dinner set you want from Habitat. And a bit cheaper too, now I come to think of it.’

‘Dan, stop. I just can’t believe Jane would do such a thing.’

‘I could have her killed anyway,’ he says, staring out of the window absent-mindedly, perhaps hoping to spot the jogger on her way back. ‘Just to make sure.’

‘You are joking, right?’

Dan looks at me for half a second too long before replying. ‘Of course.’

‘So what do you expect me to do? Just call her up and confront her?’

‘I like it,’ says Dan, reaching into his pocket for his mobile. ‘The direct approach.’

I take the phone, then immediately hand it back to him. Of course I can’t call her and ask. Because while Jane might not be calculating enough to pull a stunt like this, she
is
calculating enough to use the fact that I think we might have slept together against me, which is why I need to find out exactly what did happen.

And fast.

11.38 a.m.

Sam’s not in by the time I eventually get home, which to be honest, is something of a relief, because I’m so consumed with guilt, and so confused about how I could have let happen what I’m worried happened last night, that I don’t have the faintest idea what I’m going to say to her.

And while the combination of how tired I’m feeling plus my massive hangover would normally send me scurrying straight off to bed, I know there’s no way I’ll be able to sleep with my mind spinning as much as it is. I need to work out a strategy – and quickly – although the best I can come up with as I anxiously pace round the flat is to try and achieve some kind of holding pattern by just not mentioning anything. And even though I’ve promised Sam that I’ll never lie to her again, I manage to convince myself that – using Dan’s favourite definition – not telling her anything isn’t
actually
lying, but simply ‘delaying the truth’. Whatever the truth is.

It’s just gone midday, and I’m lying on the sofa with the curtains drawn, trying desperately to remember anything at all, when Sam’s key in the lock makes me jump. She looks as though she’s been out for a run, and for the first time in I don’t know how long, that’s exactly where I assume she’s been, all thoughts of anything sinister she might have been up to over the past few weeks knocked into oblivion by my own behaviour.