Jake, back from a spectacularly unsuccessful flea market in Chigwell, sat peacefully in front of the TV eating a Birds Eye frozen dinner for one. Claudia would not have been impressed.
Jake didn’t care. It was Sunday afternoon. The Birds Eye roast-dinner-on-a-plate was actually quite edible, especially when you were as hungry as he was after a long day sifting through boxes of Barbie dolls with matted nylon hair, bent cutlery, dodgy electrical items, and chipped tea sets. And he was watching The Antiques Roadshow, one of his favorite programs. What more could a man want?
One of the furniture experts was assessing a French provincial chestnut armoire carved with vines and acanthus scrolls. The owner was pretending to be interested in the age of the piece. Lying through her buck teeth, she said, ‘Well no, we never have,’ when the expert asked if she’d ever wondered about its value.
‘Two thousand six hundred,’ muttered Jake, chasing the last potato around his plastic plate. ‘Maybe two eight.’
‘Well,’ said the expert, prolonging the agony, ‘it is a particularly charming example of the period.’
‘Come on, come on,’ Jake urged.
‘On the other hand, this split in the wood will obviously have an effect on the value.’
‘Okay, two four,’ amended Jake. He cursed as the phone rang. Didn’t these crank callers have any sense of timing?
The owner of the armoire was looking mulish. ‘Actually, I’m sure that split wasn’t there this morning. Are you sure your cameraman didn’t do that when he bumped into it just now?’
Great, a fight.
‘Hello,’ said Jake, answering the phone. If it was yet another nutter he was hanging up.
‘Oh… hi.’ The male voice at the other end of the line sounded briefly taken aback. ‘I was kind of expecting to speak to Poppy. Is she there?’
‘No.’ Jake’s tone was brisk. He had dealt with enough of these dirty phone callers by now. ‘And before you say anything else, your number can be traced.’
‘Just as well.’ This time the voice sounded amused. ‘That’s rather the point of the exercise, isn’t it? To trace me. Besides, if I didn’t want to be found, would I be ringing you now?’
He didn’t sound like an obscene phone caller. Adrenaline began to fizz through Jake.
‘Are you Tom?’ He spoke cautiously, hardly daring to believe it could have happened at last. ‘Are you really that Tom?’
‘Of course I am,’ said the voice. ‘I fell in love with Poppy when she fell down that flight of steps. When she didn’t turn up at Delgado’s I thought that was it. I couldn’t believe it when I heard she’d canceled the wedding.’ He paused then added dryly, ‘I suppose that dippy friend of hers didn’t pass on my address.’
‘My God, it is you.’
‘If you like, I can tell you about the hat she was wearing.’
‘It’s okay.’ Jake glanced at the television, where the credits were rolling up the screen. The jolly signature tune signaled the end of the show; now he would never know how much that armoire was worth.
‘Anyway,’ said Tom, ‘if it isn’t a rude question, who are you?’
***
‘Jake, you just caught me.’ Poppy sounded pleased to hear from him. ‘I was about to jump in the bath.’
‘You still can. Claudia’s the one I want to speak to.’
‘Oh charming. What’s she got that I haven’t?’
Exhilarated by success, Jake grinned and said, ‘Big boobs for a start.’
But Poppy had already chucked the phone over to Claudia, who was on the floor doing sit-ups. Mike Cousins’ remark about her Rubenesque figure had hit a nerve.
‘Thanks a lot,’ said Claudia. Jake, who was managing to offend everyone, didn’t even blush.
‘Listen, we did it. He phoned. Just now. We’ve found him.’
‘You mean—?’
‘Don’t say it! Yes, Tom of course—who else? But not a word to Poppy, okay? We want it to be a surprise.’
‘So what was that about?’ Poppy asked nosily when Claudia had hung up. ‘Is something going on between you and Jake that I should know about?’
Claudia fished around for inspiration. ‘He just rang to say he was looking forward to tomorrow night.’ She looked vague. ‘You know, at… um…’
‘Chez Nico,’ Poppy supplied, straight-faced. As if Claudia had forgotten. She still found it hard enough to believe Jake was taking Claudia somewhere so smart. And now… luurve messages, no less. He was actually phoning, in true teenage fashion, to say he couldn’t wait.
Something was definitely up.
When she didn’t move, Claudia said, ‘I thought you were having a bath.’
‘Just wondering what kind of hat to wear at your wedding.’
‘Typical.’ Claudia resumed her sit-ups. ‘You always have to make fun of people. You’re only jealous because nobody ever takes you out, let alone anywhere nice.’
She was pleased with this bit of jokey repartee. Knowing that Tom had been found—and that Poppy would at last have a love life of her own—made it extra amusing.
Poppy, who didn’t get the joke, was less amused. Since Caspar had moved out she hadn’t been in the greatest of spirits. A twittery, about-to-sit-an-exam kind of feeling had taken up more or less permanent residence in her stomach, a sensation so weird that if she’d had sex any time in the last century, she might have wondered if maybe she wasn’t the tiniest bit pregnant.
But she hadn’t, so she definitely wasn’t that.
Cheers Claudia, Poppy thought, for reminding me what an empty, wizened-old-spinster life I lead. In case I’d forgotten, thanks for pointing it out.
‘…forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty,’ fibbed Claudia, collapsing on her back with a groan. ‘God, why do sit-ups have to hurt so much?’
‘All this,’ Poppy mocked, ‘for Jake’s benefit.’
‘No. Well…’
‘Don’t tell me. He’s so much more attractive now he’s got money to throw about.’
What was Poppy implying, that she was a fortune hunter?
Huffily, Claudia said, ‘That’s not true.’
‘You mean you’d be just as happy eating fish and chips in a bus shelter?’
Even Claudia didn’t have the nerve to lie her way out of this one. Instead, as if the question simply wasn’t worth answering, she sighed and stretched her arms lazily above her head. ‘Oh please. You’re not happy so you can’t bear anyone else to be, is that it? I don’t know what’s got into you tonight.’
Nothing, thought Poppy. Not for ages. Maybe that’s the trouble.
‘I’m just warning you. Jake’s my friend.’ She spoke through gritted teeth. ‘And I don’t want to see him get hurt.’
***
‘…I’m not trying to be a killjoy, okay? I’m just saying bear it in mind.’
Hoping she hadn’t upset him, Poppy offered Jake her last Juicy Fruit.
He shook his head. ‘No thanks. Should you be eating that now?’
Jake was far too hyped-up to pay much attention to Poppy’s lecture. Tom was due any minute now and he wanted Poppy to make a good second impression. Sartorial elegance might not be Jake’s forte, but even he knew the sight of someone chewing chewing gum wasn’t the ultimate turn-on.
‘Why not?’ Poppy stared at the unwrapped stick.
‘Um… won’t it ruin your appetite?’
She broke into a grin and folded the gum expertly into her mouth. ‘Jake, five doughnuts and a chip sandwich don’t ruin my appetite.’
‘Oh well, suit yourself.’
Jake was definitely odd today. Poppy guessed he was on edge about dinner with Claudia. She waited until a pair of Americans had finished examining a pewter mug (‘Look at that silver, Herman, you’d think they’d take the trouble to polish it’) before trying again.
‘Jake, were you listening to me? I know it’s only a dinner date, but I’m just saying don’t get too carried away.’
‘Hmm?’ Jake couldn’t stop glancing across at the main doors. What if Tom didn’t turn up?
‘Tonight. Claudia. The thing is, I know you like her and you think she likes you because she’s having dinner with you—’
‘You’re chewing and talking at the same time.’
‘Sorry. Look, what I’m trying to get across is, Claudia’s always gone on and on about how when she gets married it’s going to be to someone seriously rich.’
Was Jake listening to her? Or was he only pretending to ignore her because she was telling him something he didn’t want to hear? Dramatically, Poppy launched into the next phase, ‘And when she does finally land some dopey rolling-in-it idiot, she’s going to murder him the minute the honeymoon’s over. I’m serious, Jake, she told me so herself. A quick splash of weedkiller in the casserole, that’s how I reckon she’ll do it. With Claudia’s cooking, who’d notice?’
‘Stop wittering, Poppy,’ said Jake, ‘and serve the customer.’
The customer said, ‘I’d like three condoms, please, and a stupid hat.’