I gazed at his back as he walked away to the others. He really was flirting with me now – not just being nice. But he was genuinely kind, too – he always went out of his way to make me feel better about myself.
I went to the loo to repair my make-up, having one more go at my hair with the last squidge from an ancient tube of leave-in conditioner I found in the bottom of my handbag and managing to create a couple of spikes, and putting on lots more lipstick.
I still looked a bit grim, I thought, but the lights in ladies’ loos were notorious for that – presumably they’d be turned down a lot lower in the speed-dating gathering to give the dodgy-looking a fighting chance. Cal had seemed to genuinely think I looked OK, so perhaps it was just me being hormonal.
The speed-dating affair was held in a large room a bit like a 70s nightclub, with a small dance floor in the middle and a bar running down one side. It was all rather retro with plush red banquettes and black walls with mirrored pillars and a huge metallic disco ball slowly revolving from the ceiling.
Clumps of men and women stood near the bar with glasses in their hands. I noticed a lot of the women had on short, cocktail-type dresses like mine. I also noticed they were a lot younger than me.
‘I feel a prune,’ I said to Cal, as Russ and Matt set up the camera and mikes.
He grinned. ‘Have some champagne. I always find it cheers one up.’
I took a glass from the tray proffered and looked around the room. There were stools in twos against the narrow bar that ran around the walls and more pairs of seats dotted about the high round tables surrounding the dance floor.
A young guy in tight black trousers and white shirt handed me a black card like a menu, embossed with silver hearts, and a silver and black pen. ‘Inside are the numbers of each position,’ he said briskly. ‘As you move on round, you give a tick against any of the guys you feel you’d like to talk to again later.’
I glanced sideways into one of the mirrors – I didn’t look quite so bad in here, but I still felt daft.
‘Just start doing it,’ said Cal, ‘and we’ll get some general shots of you, then we’ll come in close for the conversation in a while.’ He grinned and nodded at my glass. ‘Keep knocking it back. You’ll be fine.’
I was directed to one of the tables near the dance floor. Number Six was an earnest-looking bloke of about forty with a beard.
‘Is this your first time doing one of these?’ he asked. I nodded. He was studying political science as a mature student, he told me, and liked Genesis and “radical theatre”. I told him I was a copywriter and he asked me what I thought about the toxicity of global consumerism. I said it made me want another drink. It was hardly a match made in heaven.
‘Brilliant,’ said Cal, grinning some more as I moved on to number 28.
‘He’s too young,’ I hissed as I tried to climb elegantly onto the bar stool opposite a boy with spots.
‘Just play along with it,’ Cal murmured back. ‘It’s good to see some variety.’
‘How old are you?’ I asked bluntly.
‘Twenty-three,’ said the juvenile dubiously, clearly wondering who this old woman was.
‘Can you look a bit more interested, La?’ Cal whispered in my ear. I felt a little flicker of pleasure at the special name, but I still frowned.
‘I’m going to look like a paedophile,’ I muttered back. ‘I’ll be interested in someone older.’
Cal put an arm around my shoulders as everyone moved round again. ‘Lots of younger men really fancy older women,’ he said casually. ‘I could see it written all over that guy’s face – he’d have jumped at the chance. I don’t think you realise how attractive you are …’
He grabbed another drink from a passing girl with a tray and pressed it into my hand. ‘Here, have another one – tell yourself you’re fabulous. Never fails with me.’ He laughed. ‘champagne makes everything better.’
He was right. By the time I’d had my third glass, I was feeling very much improved. I found I could walk in the heels, after all, and even the dress felt a bit looser now I’d been wearing it a while.
‘I think we’ve nearly got enough now,’ said Cal, after I’d sat through three minutes in the company of a bloke with a twitch and overpowering garlic-breath, ‘but maybe just a couple more. I know it’s excruciating for you but –’ he gave me a wink. ‘Just pretend.
‘I’ll make it up to you later,’ he added softly, his hand trailing down my bare arm. I felt a delicious shock go right up my spine and could still feel the glow of his finger tips as I went onto the next table.
Number 17 was quite good-looking and probably about my age. He chatted easily about his job as a software engineer and his recent divorce (there was always something). I leant forward and tried to look fascinated, thinking that if I were doing this for real, he’d be one I might have put a tick against. ‘Oh, and I’m a vegan,’ he finished. Perhaps not then.
The last contender I spoke to was the organiser, posing as one of the punters. He was one of these open shirt, hairy chest, too much aftershave, too-tight trousers types – the only thing missing was the medallion.
He gave me the full low-down on his attributes, including the flash penthouse and sports car, and offered plenty of innuendo about his prowess in the sack. He grinned into the camera frequently, evidently thinking that since he was totally irresistible, women all over the country would flock to his speed-dating parties in the hope of tracking him down.
Thoroughly into role now, I pouted and made eyes at him while trying not to snort out loud.
‘Oh my God, save me from any more,’ I giggled to Cal, now feeling pleasingly tipsy after my fourth glass of champagne. I fluffed my hair up a bit more in front of one of the mirrors and tugged up my dress – my cleavage now looked in danger of escaping altogether. I didn’t look too bad at all now. Though I really needed to eat.
Cal signalled to Matt. ‘Yeah – come on, let’s get out of here. OK, it’s a wrap.’
He put his hand on my waist and led me out of the room. Hot date Number Six was still sat at his table, introducing himself to a girl in a bright pink T-shirt and jeans, using the same sparkling opener he’d used on me. ‘Is this your first time doing one of these …?’
‘We’re nearly done now,’ Cal was saying. ‘We just want to get a little bit more of you talking to camera. We may not use it, but just in case …’ He led me into another bar. ‘We’ve done quite a lot of that with the other two subjects and we might need a bit more from you for balance. Is that OK? It won’t take long.’
He sat me a table in the corner. As usual I could see people glancing toward us as Matt and Russ set up. Cal had got me yet another glass of champagne. I pulled a face at him. ‘This is going straight to my head – I haven’t really eaten today.’
‘We’ll have dinner afterwards,’ he promised, sitting down opposite me and giving me one of his slow smiles that made my toes tingle.
‘OK. We’re just going to talk about how you feel. I’ll be asking you questions off screen, but basically it’s going to be you talking to camera.’ His eyes fixed on mine and he gave me that look again. Something inside me went soft and squidgy. His voice was low and sensual.
‘How do you feel about being in your 40s, now?’
‘Well,’ I said. ‘I’m feeling better about it. I know I’m a bit dodgy today – I’ve got shocking PMT ’ I paused to laugh, to show that this didn’t mean I was about to start chewing on small children ‘ but generally I have been feeling pretty good. You know, with all the exercise and stuff – the going to the gym, the new haircut. I feel good about having lost some weight.’
I wasn’t slurring but I had that sense of my words becoming a bit treacly. Cal didn’t seem to notice. He was nodding encouragingly. ‘How did you feel before then?’
‘Well – I was pretty horrified at actually turning 40. You don’t really think it will happen to you. I didn’t put any of my cards up – I felt really weird all day – and it took me six months to actually say the F word. But I sort of got over that –’
Cal was leaning across the table. He’d taken my hand again. ‘Go on,’ he said softly. ‘Can you tell us about your marriage break-up?’ His thumb moved gently across my palm. It sent shivers right up my arm.
‘But what really set me back was my husband, Daniel, leaving me for a 28-year-old. Then I really did feel old and unattractive with that sense that life had passed me by. I started to look around me and everyone else was young. And young people seem to do so much more with their lives than we ever did. Though I suppose one still could … I mean, even Daniel, with his younger woman, is getting new trainers and eating tofu –’
I clapped a hand to my mouth. ‘Actually, I don’t want to say that – not about Daniel – I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. Not on TV.’ I looked at Cal, agitated. He squeezed my fingers.
‘No problem. We won’t use more than a few seconds of this. Probably just the stuff about you feeling good.’
‘I need to stop for a minute, anyway,’ said Matt from behind his camera. ‘Bloody desperate for a pee. Be right back.’
‘I’m going to get a beer,’ said Russ. ‘You want anything?’
I shook my head.
‘I’ll have one too,’ said Cal. ‘Where’s Tan?’
Russ shrugged. ‘Dunno, mate.’
‘Are you feeling better now?’ asked Cal, when they’d all moved away. ‘You said you’d had a difficult week?’
He listened sympathetically while I explained about my father and relived the hoo-hah with my mother that had ended with me in floods of tears.
His own father, he told me, squeezing my hand, had left his mother when he, Cal, was seven and his mother had been very bitter for the rest of his childhood. ‘She can still be quite difficult,’ he said with feeling. ‘Needy, clinging. I’m sure you know what I mean.’
He pushed the floppy bit of hair away from his forehead, looking like a young Hugh Grant. ‘And what’s happened with Charlotte?’
I gave him a brief recap, not going into any of the personal details as far as Roger was concerned, but explaining the misunderstanding.
‘Wow,’ said Cal. ‘Tangled webs. But if you’re good friends then she’ll get over it, surely?’
‘We’d got a bit strained before that to be honest,’ I said sadly. ‘I don’t think she really liked the new me. She’s not into all that losing weight and exercise stuff.’
‘I told you before,’ said Cal. ‘She’s envious because you’re looking so fabulous. And maybe she’s let herself go a bit?’
I shook my head. ‘Oh no, I wouldn’t say that – Charlotte’s really attractive. I mean, she is bigger than me but she’s beautiful and she’s very comfortable with herself and she’s happily married – well, usually – and that’s worth a lot.’
I took a mouthful from the new glass of champagne that had appeared by my side. ‘Charlotte says she quite likes getting older ’cos she doesn’t have to try so hard any more –’ I giggled. ‘She says she’s looking forward to elastic-waisted trousers and no longer having to hold her stomach in.’
‘Yuck,’ said Tanya, who seemed to have reappeared behind me.
Cal kept his eyes on mine. ‘But you don’t feel like that?’
I shuddered. ‘Oh no, I hate it when I feel fat. I don’t like it at all when I catch sight of myself in the mirror and my bum looks big.’ I grinned at him. ‘I don’t want to look like an elephant.’ I put a hand to my mouth again. I was still managing not to slur, but even to myself, I sounded as though I’d been drinking.
‘Is my voice all right?’ I said to Cal, who was nodding to Matt who was back behind the camera. ‘Can we stop now?’
‘Your voice is fine,’ Cal said smiling at me. ‘And we can stop. We’ll go and get something to eat. But just to finish on an uplifting note – what would your advice be to any woman who’s in her 40s and feels as though she’s getting on and is past being sexy and wearing great clothes and having fun?’ He moved back to let Russ bring the big mike closer to me. ‘Maybe you could say something encouraging about being in your prime – remember the programme is going to be called Prime Time – and we could perhaps end with you saying that?’
The more I said it, the less convincing I sounded.
‘You’re in your prime. This is your prime time …’
‘Just once more,’ said Cal.
‘It’s prime time – you’re in your prime …’
‘And again? What’s the best thing about being 40?’
‘This is the time when you’re in your prime.’
‘Can you look as though you’re thinking about it first?’
A little knot of people had gathered to watch and, once again, I suddenly felt all film star-ish. I rolled my eyes heavenwards as if considering life’s mysteries and then faced the camera. ‘You are in your prime. This is prime time.’
Cal clapped his hands. ‘Terrific! I can’t believe how you’ve taken to this.’
For the first time in my life I actually knew what it was like to go past the point of wanting to eat. By the time, we sat down in the restaurant I could quite easily have curled up and gone to sleep, but Cal seemed as energised as ever and was happily scanning the menu, making suggestions for me.
Russ and Matt had disappeared somewhere, Tanya was at the table with us, with a massive face on.
‘Nothing,’ she said coldly, when Cal asked her what she wanted.
She sat drinking Coke and texting while I picked at rocket leaves with parmesan and pine nuts and watched Cal devour a chicken Caesar. I wished she’d go and leave us on our own together. I wanted him gazing into my eyes again. I wanted him all to myself …
And when I came back from the loo a bit later, it seemed I might have got my wish. Tanya was standing in the foyer, her coat over her arm, obviously arguing with Cal. He waved to me as I went back into the restaurant.
‘I’ll be with you in a minute,’ he called.
‘You need to let me do it my way,’ I heard him say to her.
I didn’t catch her reply but it sounded suspiciously as if it included the word “bastard”.
By craning my neck and shifting my chair along a bit I could just about still see them, through the open doors. Tanya’s arms were waving about and Cal was standing with his hands stretched out, as if trying to appease her.
Then she disappeared from view and a few minutes later he came back in and sat down beside me, sighing.
‘Everything OK?’ I asked, throwing wheat-free caution to the winds and eating a bit of bread roll.
Cal shook his head wearily. ‘We’re disagreeing on a few technical issues,’ he said. ‘Tanya’s gone home.’
‘Oh dear,’ I said, gravely, thinking it might not be tactful to toss my napkin in the air and begin whooping.
‘Well, we’ve more or less finished,’ said Cal. ‘She doesn’t need to be here.’
‘Are you still going to stay?’ I asked casually.
‘Oh yes,’ he said, suddenly looking more cheerful. ‘I’m all booked in – why not? It’s great here, isn’t it?’ He poured some more wine into my glass.
I buttered the rest of the roll.
‘I’m very excited about this project,’ he told me, as we drank the coffee I’d thought it prudent to order. ‘It’s a big thing for me. OK, so it’s not on a major channel but it’s on a Saturday night. So it will get noticed. Who knows one of the big boys might pick it up. Someone might pick you up!’
‘Do you really think so?’ I said, hopefully.
‘Yes, I do.’ His face was serious. ‘You’re a natural.’
‘Will I be able to see it before it goes on TV?’
Cal shook his head. ‘I doubt it. We’re going to be cutting it pretty fine with the edit – we’ve only got a few days. And I’m not really allowed to give out DVDs before it goes on air.’ He took my hand again. ‘But I shall really look forward to hearing what you think of it.’
We sat for a moment, gazing at each other. Then he gently let go of my hand, slowly unwrapped one of the chocolate mints, and pushed it against my mouth, watching intently as my lips parted.
‘Mmm,’ I said, unable to take my eyes away from his. Was this really happening? Was I sitting in a posh London hotel being fed chocolate by a gorgeous young hunk, who’d just put his hand back in mine and was looking at me as if I were beautiful?
‘You’re beautiful,’ he said. ‘Want to go swimming?’
What?
‘The pool closes at ten,’ Cal was saying, ‘but if I tell the management we need to film in there, they’ll let us use it as late as we want. They’ve been absolutely fantastic – given us all the rooms and everything, for a credit.’
‘I haven’t got any swimming stuff.’
He smiled slowly. ‘Doesn’t bother me … No, I’m only joking. They’ve some gear for sale up there – we’ll get you a bikini.’
I looked at him suspiciously. ‘I don’t want to be filmed in it!’
‘You don’t have to be – though I don’t know why not. You’ve got a fabulous body.’ He stood up and gave me a boyish grin. ‘Come on. I love swimming – it’s such a great way to unwind.’
I vaguely wondered if leaping into water was a good idea when we’d both had so much alcohol, but I obediently got in the lift with him to the top floor and 15 minutes later, the sight of Cal in a pair of swimming shorts banished all thoughts of health and safety. His body was smooth and muscular, lightly tanned even in December. I looked at his long limbs and strong chest and my heart gave a little skip.
He walked to the far end of the pool, did a perfect dive and swam a length under water, coming up in front of me – still perched on the side in a red and white polka dot bikini – and putting his hands on my knees.
‘Come in, it’s wonderful. So warm!’ His hair was plastered against his head – his blonde streak standing out against the darkness of the rest, his muscles glistening. I slid into the water. His hands went around my waist. Suddenly I really wanted him. Wanted to put my arms around him, put my hands up and pull his face down onto mine …
He kissed me briefly and slid back under the water again, emerging at the far end of the pool. ‘Swim,’ he called. ‘It’s fabulous!’
I swam slowly down after him, stretching out my fingers and toes in the balmy water, enjoying the sensation of weightlessness. ‘It’s ages since I did this,’ I said, when I reached the other end. ‘It’s lovely.’
He nodded. ‘Shame it’s not the Caribbean, but still …’ He suddenly submerged himself again, coming up behind me, kissing the top of my neck and sending ripples all the way down my back. I turned over and floated, feeling relaxed and sensual. Cal cupped the water, sending a stream across my stomach, and I flipped back again, watching him glide along with long, languid strokes till he too spun over and drifted, lazily supine, hands trailing beside him.
I forgot all sense of time as we circled each other, turning and revolving in the oily warmth, my body light and free beside his, mind empty except for the lapping of the water against us, the soft splashes as we broke the surface. I felt as though we were suspended there for ever, until movement at the side of the pool caught my eye.
I came abruptly out of my dreamlike state to see Matt and Russ in the far corner, the camera trained on the water.
‘Cal – you said you wouldn’t!’ I cried, but I couldn’t be cross. My body was heavy and warm. I smiled at him.
He held out his hands in contrition. ‘Just a bit of you swimming – that’s all, babe. They’re packing up now.’
He swam right up to me and put his arms around me. ‘Unless you’ll just walk along the side for me? Just from here to the steam room?’
I shook my head, embarrassed. ‘No thank you. I’m too old for that sort of thing. I don’t want the whole world seeing my bottom.’
‘But what a very lovely bottom it is.’ He ran his hands lightly down the sides of my waist, resting his fingers on my hips. Sending shoots of desire right through me. ‘Please, Lala?’
I looked at him helplessly.
‘Just for me,’ he was saying. ‘Just a few metres. It will be so empowering – other women will see you being bold and unashamed and will feel inspired. Look at how Helen Mirren went down a storm. She’s much older than you.’
‘She’s also got a much better body than me.’
‘She hasn’t!’ said Cal vehemently. ‘I’ve been looking at you under water and you have an amazing body and I’m not even going to add that insulting tag – for your age. You look great, babe. I think you’re fantastic.’
His hands were still on my hips. He was so close to me, I could feel his breath steamy on my face. I was melting inside.
‘Go for it,’ he murmured. ‘Show them all how beautiful you are …’
I wanted to please him – I wanted to feel wild and high. I wanted him to touch me all over …
‘OK.’
Cal threw up a jubilant hand and put a thumb up toward Matt. ‘Just one take of Laura and then pack up, OK? You can go and get some beers.’
‘It will only take seconds,’ he said to me. ‘Go up the steps, look across at Matt and then walk down to the steam room and go in.’ He lowered his voice. ‘And then I’ll join you …’
I swam up to the steps and got out of the pool, telling myself I was that beautiful, confident woman Cal had described. I could still feel his hands. As I stood up straight, I felt suddenly lighter and slimmer than usual. I glanced back at Cal who was smiling from the middle of the water.
He blew me a kiss. For a moment I hesitated. Then I blew him one back. And, filled with reckless abandon, I tossed back my wet hair, beamed at the camera, and sauntered down the side of the pool, even giving a small, triumphant wiggle of my hips as I opened the door to the steam room.
Moments later Cal sat down on the wooden bench beside me as the steam swirled around us, sending streams down my chest. Droplets ran down his face as he took me in his arms, murmuring as his mouth found mine, ‘La, I want you …I want you now.’
The rest was a blur. I could only remember him unhooking my bikini top, stepping out of his shorts, his body hard and urgent against mine in the rising steam.
And later, in my hotel room, my legs wrapped around his waist while he filled me up, holding me tightly to him, as we rocked together in the centre of the huge bed, lost in pleasure.
And his mouth on my face, feathering it with tiny, fervent kisses while he groaned over and over. ‘You’re amazing, Lala. You’re fantastic. Oh God – La. Oh yes …’
I woke in the early hours, head pounding. I saw Cal’s shape in the darkness – at the end of the bed, putting on clothes. As I sat up, he leant over me and kissed my mouth. ‘I’m sorry – I’ve got to go, babe.’
I looked at the clock – it was only 5.30.
‘We’ve got to start the edit today to get the film put together in time,’ said Cal in apology. ‘They’re expecting me at the studio first thing. And I need to go home first.’ He began to button his shirt. ‘I’ll see you really soon though.’
‘How about the weekend?’ I said impulsively.
He nodded. ‘We’ll work something out.’
‘My son is away with his father next Saturday night. If you came down to Broadstairs, I could cook you dinner.’
I held my breath, waiting for him to make an excuse, telling myself not to feel crushed. But he put a hand out and touched my face. ‘I’d like that.’
‘We can watch the programme together?’
He nodded. ‘That’ll be great.’
I hugged him, feeling suddenly bereft as he gently disengaged himself and picked up his jacket from the floor. I’m sorry, La – I really do have to go.’
I hugged my knees instead. ‘I’ll see you next Saturday then.’
He bent down again and softly kissed my cheek. ‘I can’t wait.’