Alphabet Weekends - Elizabeth Noble [17]
Now they were becoming increasingly grown-up. Rob had moved out and in with Serena, whom he had met at an industry conference. They had dinner parties and decent towels, and an inordinately high number of cushions. Actually, while she might have put an end to some of the less salubrious elements of Tom’s life with Rob, he had to admit that she’d been an undoubtedly good influence on them business-wise. She was brilliant. Her ideas were original – she could have sold snow to Eskimos – and everybody who met her fell a little in love with her. She was attractive, stylish and funny, but you just knew you wouldn’t want to mess with her. Tom was always grateful he didn’t fancy her. Although he realised she wouldn’t have glanced twice at him since she’d met Rob – she called him Achilles in private, because he was her only real weakness. She’d missed a fascinating session on Internet copyright at that conference, chatting at lunch with him. And that was as weak as Serena got.
Tom quite enjoyed having the flat to himself. He was a bit of a slob, a flamboyant but messy cook and something of an insomniac: the freedom to leave his dirty socks on the living-room floor and cook green Thai curry at three a.m. was to be appreciated. They were making pretty decent money now, too, so it was fine. He was already earning more working for himself than his highest employed salary had been when he’d jumped ship last year, and he reckoned that wasn’t bad going. Life was good.
Serena was there this morning. She raised an eyebrow when he handed her a coffee. ‘Am I becoming too much of a fixture around here?’ she asked.
‘Good job you’re decorative, love, that’s all I’m saying.’ Tom winked.
‘Sod off. Decorative!’ But Serena was laughing.
‘Glad you’re here, actually. Got a new project I need some advice on…’
‘Shoot. Rob’s at the bank, incidentally. Back in ten.’
‘That’s all I need. Now, the thing is, this has got nothing to do with websites…’
*
Rob came in five minutes later to hear Serena saying, ‘I don’t know if you’re a genius, or a fool, Tom…’
‘ “The best geniuses are always a little foolish,” ’ Rob quoted expansively.
‘What? Have you swallowed your dad’s desk calendar of aphorisms?’ Serena slapped his thigh.
He kissed her neck. ‘What’s he done?’
‘He’s making a move on his oldest friend.’
‘And I’ve told him,’ Rob quipped, ‘that I’m spoken for.’
‘Not you, mate.’ Tom smiled. ‘You’re not my oldest acquaintance. Natalie. And it isn’t so much a move as an experiment.’
‘Which could blow up in your face, my friend,’ Serena added, nodding sagely, and looking from Tom to Rob over the top of her achingly trendy black-rimmed spectacles.
Tom shrugged. ‘Or make two people very happy.’
‘Is someone going to tell me what the hell you’re on about?’
Serena gestured towards Tom. ‘Tom is making Natalie spend twenty-six days with him, doing alphabetical “activities”, in an effort to prove to her that she should be with him, not Simon – or anyone else for that matter.’
‘What’s happened to Simon?’
‘He dumped her. Just before Christmas and New Year, on pretty much the day she thought he was going to propose marriage or, at the very least, a tropical holiday.’
‘The shit!’ Serena was emphatic.
‘So you think now is the time to make your move, do you?’ Rob sounded like Claire Rayner.
‘Stop calling it a “move”. We’re not extras in Saturday Night Fever.’
‘Whatever. Doesn’t Nat need some wound-licking time?’
‘I’m going to lick them for her.’
‘Gross.’
‘Metaphorically.’
Serena laughed. ‘Well, all right, Tom. We’re in. We’ll watch you make an idiot of yourself, and we’ll pick up the pieces afterwards.’
Rob grinned. ‘Should liven up those dull winter months.’
‘But,’ Serena went to him, and put her face unnaturally close to his, ‘do not hurt her, okay? Don’t.’
‘I won’t.’ Tom kissed her cheek. ‘Promise!’
Then he grinned, reached for the mouse, and clicked on to Encarta – he’d start with A.
Natalie
Christina, Bridget’s eighteen-month-old baby, was asleep on the sofa. Arms and legs akimbo,