Romantic Association - Loves Me, Loves Me Not

‘Do you think you can dance in that thing?’ He eyed my dress doubtfully.

‘One way to find out,’ I said.

The band had relocated to the fringe of the dance floor and was now playing a selection of classic French numbers. ‘Oh, lovely,’ I said. ‘ La Mer. My favourite.’

‘Very appropriate,’ he said, ‘given your costume. And, come to that, mine: France and the sea.’ He took my hand and led me on to the dance floor. Then he took me in his arms and we started to dance. I felt a delicious anticipation of the electricity of physical attraction. Our bodies touched lightly. Crunch.

‘Dear God,’ said Oliver. ‘What on earth have you got on under that dress?’

‘You don’t want to know,’ I said.

‘Don’t be so sure,’ he murmured.

We went on dancing until the band pleaded desperate thirst and announced a break and then we walked around the garden. There were lanterns strung in the trees and the scents of jasmine and lavender drifted lazily. The evening was getting impossibly romantic, which I suppose was appropriate, given that it was an engagement party. Oliver took my hand. ‘We could go and look at the pond,’ he said. ‘They were going to light it.’

I said, ‘You know this garden?’

‘Of course I do,’ he said. ‘It’s Kate’s parents’ house. I spent some of my formative years here—catching tadpoles, watching dragonflies, getting covered in mud.’

Coloured lights glowed from the trees around the pond and, of course, there was a bench.

‘This isn’t as romantic as I’d hoped,’ said Oliver. ‘I can’t get closer to you than about two feet.’

‘Sorry, it’s the panniers. The most fashionable ladies at Versailles had to go through doors sideways.’

The party ended some time after midnight when the champagne ran out and the band got to the end of their repertoire and said they’d have to start on Gilbert and Sullivan again. ‘Let me take you home,’ said Oliver. ‘I’ll just go and get my hat.’

We found a taxi and Oliver helped me in. ‘At least no one’s going to ask to share the cab,’ he said, settling on the opposite side of the seat from me. ‘And I think I’m learning how to cope with your costume. D’you need some help with that seat belt?’

When we arrived at my rather humble apartment building, Oliver paid off the taxi. ‘I’ll see you to the door,’ he said.

‘What about getting home?’ I said. He waved a set of keys at me.

‘Kate’s flat,’ he said. ‘Just round the corner. She’s staying with her parents. So I can crash at her place. I borrowed her keys when I went to get my hat. I thought perhaps I could take you out to lunch tomorrow.’

‘Dressed like that?’ I couldn’t resist asking.

‘If necessary,’ he said. ‘But I thought I’d go out and buy some clothes. Unless some of Kate’s will fit me…No, not really.’

‘Clothes…’ I felt my face drop. ‘I can’t get out of this dress by myself,’ I said. ‘It’s all done up at the back with laces and things.’

‘Can I help?’ he asked.

‘Er—’ I wondered momentarily about the advisability of this.

‘I could do it with my hat over my eyes,’ he suggested.

There was nothing for it. He came up to the flat. Getting in and out of the lift was quite an experience, and once we’d got my front door closed he put his hat down and undid the laces on the dress for me. ‘You’ll have to loosen them as well,’ I said. ‘Or else I won’t be able to get out of it. And then the same with the corset.’

‘It’s amazing what they did before Lycra,’ he said. ‘Will that do?’ he asked about five minutes later.

‘Fine. Thank you.’ I had to hold up the front of the dress to stop it sliding downwards. Then he kissed my back between my shoulder blades. It was wonderful. Electric. A concentration of all the sensations that had been trying to get through that wretched corset.

‘You’ve got a lovely back,’ he said as I turned round.

He kissed me on the lips.

‘I ought to go,’ he said. He kissed me again. ‘I really ought to go,’ he said.

‘Yes,’ I heard myself say, then I kissed him back.

He did go. The lock clicked softly behind him.

Always leave them wanting more, I thought. I wasn’t sure whether it referred to him or me.

The next morning he turned up at about half past eleven in chinos and a pale blue shirt, with an enormous bunch of flowers. We went for brunch, then to an art gallery and dinner.

From then on we spent all the time we could together, as much of it as possible with our arms wrapped round each other. The days passed in a haze of happiness. Oliver’s work was punctuated by early starts and working late into the evening. My diary showed a more haphazard work pattern, the norm in my profession. When Oliver was working and I wasn’t, I filled in odd hours with exercise classes or went to the cinema.

One afternoon, when I was sitting in a small studio cinema waiting for a recently released rom-com to begin, I saw something that made my heart lurch. It was Oliver, looking completely different and in the sort of company it didn’t occur to me that he would keep.

I’d have to confront him, I realised as I slunk out of the cinema after the film finished. Mentally, I rehearsed what to say.

Oliver turned up at my flat that evening with an armful of cornflowers. ‘The colour reminded me of your eyes.’ He bent to kiss me, but I moved out of the way.

‘You’ve been deceiving me,’ I said.

‘Oh, God,’ he groaned. ‘You’ve found out. I can explain everything.’

‘That new rom-com,’ I said. ‘I went to see it. I also saw you. Before the film even started. Man in commercial for Henley aftershave.’

‘They only picked me and the other guys for that ad because we could row.’

‘Not just that,’ I said. ‘In the film. Hero’s old school friend with six lines in wine bar.’

He looked sheepish.

‘Admit it,’ I said. ‘You’re an actor. No wonder you always change the subject when I ask about your job.’

‘It’s a fair cop,’ he said. ‘It’s like this—Kate told me about all the stuff about not getting involved with an actor. The actual wording, if I remember correctly, was would not touch with a bargepole. Then I fell in love with you the moment we met and I didn’t want to muck up my chances…’

‘And what about working in the City?’ I asked sternly.

‘It’s true. I’ve taken part in performances of readings there for charity.’ I could believe that—he had a fantastic voice. ‘And I temp there quite a bit. It pays well. And I really have got a degree in maths. I just did a lot of acting at university. And then I went to drama school.’

There was a pause. ‘Can you forgive me?’ he asked.

‘You lied to me,’ I said.

‘No, I didn’t. I misled you. That’s different. It all depended on the interpretation.’

He was looking at me with the most serious expression I’d ever seen on his face. ‘Are you going to forgive me?’

I looked at the cornflowers and his brown eyes and curly hair and thought about the way he’d kissed my back. And all the subsequent kisses and the hours we’d spent together and the wine we’d drunk and the jokes we’d laughed at and the smell of his aftershave—even though it was probably Henley aftershave.

I took a deep breath. Was I going to have to rethink my attitude to the most consistent advice ever handed down from one actress to another?

‘Well?’ he said.

‘I’ll have to think about it,’ I said.

I held the pause for about twenty seconds.

And then I kissed him.