Page 42 of Cover Story

‘Have at it.’

Connor, tipping beer bottle to lips, watched the whirl of the room and felt drunker than he had for a good while. He was single. He’d have to keep repeating this to himself until it sunk in. Dating apps? Oh God no. Going on dates, full stop? Starting again from the beginning? He had no appetite for any of it. There should be a word for the liminal state: not still in a relationship, not yet single. He felt predatory eyes upon him, and deliberately looked away.

Across the room, Bel had been intercepted by a late twenties,hipsterish man with a moustache, stubble and collar-length hair. Not a good combination, Connor thought: worked for Kevin Kline in 1995, and no one else ever. Bel had found an arancini ball and cupped it decorously over a napkin as she despatched it. He liked that she ate with such gusto.

He watched with an academic interest as Moustache Man tried his moves, pretending that the effort of leaning in to hear what Bel was saying required him to unthinkingly put his hand lightly on her waist.

As she spoke animatedly, eyes cast upwards to emphasise a point, his eyes slithered down her chest.

Bel seemed unperturbed and could handle herself, and essentially it was none of his business. Yet, Connor thought, he was meant to be acting like she actually was his girlfriend? By Barking pub rules, he should be ready to throw a chair.

Moustache Man had wiggled his way close enough to accidentally bump chests with her as they both laughed at something, hand then on the small of her back.

Oh, OK, this guy was taking the piss. Connor put his beer down and squeezed a path to them.

‘Need a hand with those, darling?’ Connor said, taking a glass from her and giving a pointed look to her suitor.

‘Nice to meet you,’ Bel said to Moustache Cad, accepting her summons.

Back in their original location, Bel whispered into his ear: ‘Ted’s a waiter here. Good recruit for gossip. The iPad drawer’snot locked.I’ve seen the actual iPad, it’s there.’

‘Oh, that’s why you were flirting with him that hard, was it? That’s your excuse for your Ted Talk? I know which drawers should be locked.’

Bel hooted and Connor grinned and it might be the first genuine laugh they’d shared.

Connor looked round the room, and then at her mouth, no doubt thinking things a lot of people had thought, looking at that mouth. Music pounded.You were a stranger in my phone book …

He slid his hand round her back, pulled her towards him like she was his to manhandle, and kissed her exposed neck, at the curve with her shoulder. He felt Bel’s body go rigid with shock. He had a strong intuition he’d dished her back a version of what he had felt on the way here. It was a sleazy liberty, yes, but he’d been told to.

‘Was that electricity?’ he muttered, as they disentangled.

Bel caught up with the moment and wound her arm round his waist, in a casual gesture of ownership. There was that bolt of lightning in Connor again, and he discreetly shifted so there was no risk of crotches touching. He didn’t want it receiving any missent memos. His senses were still full of the brush of her skin, and the scent of her perfume.

‘Oh God, you’re here! You came! Thank you so much for coming!’ Amber shrieked, suddenly at their side.

25

‘Was that electricity?’ Connor’s whisper reminded Bel he was doing this by special request. She needed her pathetic body to catch up. It felt like he’d pushed a key into her ignition and, with one swift twist, her engine had coughed into life.

Although she’d given him this pass, she’d never thought he’d use it. For a surreal second, when Connor pulled her towards him, eyes locked on hers, and the Arctic Monkeys’ ‘Knee Socks’ blasting out, she even thought he was going to kiss her. She discovered she had no chill about it, whatsoever. Undercover revelation: it turned out kissing someone was still going to feel like kissing, whatever motive you’ve ascribed to it. As Connor wasn’t single, she wasn’t sure the politics of it were very sound. Fortunately it was her neck his lips brushed, as Bel tried to ignore how good it felt.

There would be no daydreaming of the pushing of keys into ignitions, no thanks. This wasn’t real– and anyway, Connor might be good-looking, and smell nice (sort of spicy oranges? Almost Christmassy), but he was also awful.

Awful, and yet able to dramatically improve for a special occasion? Bel hadn’t worked out how she felt about Connor morphing into this approachable, considerate doppelganger.She was grateful and relieved, and wondering which version of him was the real Connor.

Amber seized on them excitedly: ‘You’re here! You came!’ She was in a pink Birthday Girl sash across an off-the-shoulder citrus yellow dress, ushering her boyfriend Rick over. ‘Meet Bella and Connor, my new favourites!’

The blokeish, silver fox Rick, in band T-shirt and wooden bead necklace, was pleasant enough, though Bel got the impression, less interested in novelty people than his girlfriend. He made nimble excuses to talk to guests he knew.

‘The food is so good,’ Bel gushed.

‘Thank you! It’s from the Italian restaurant round the corner. Are you a food person?’

‘Only in the sense I’m greedy and I enjoy cooking a lot.’

‘Wow, as in you cook for guests? I’m so shit. I will only touch the deep fat fryer here in an emergency. I get huge anxiety in hostessing if it’s my food,’ Amber said.

‘It doesn’t bother me,’ Bel said. ‘I think if I’m going to trouble at the stove I want as many people to know about it as possible, hah.’

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