‘So why the about-face on the drinking front?’
Ken and Freddie looked at her intently, waiting expectantly for her answer like members of an interview panel.
‘He can’t tolerate alcohol. He’d get plastered after half an alcopop, and he was always having blackouts. Lorcan says he stopped because it was freaking him out, not knowing what he’d done or where he’d been – or who with,’ Kate added.
‘Wow! So he’s never been an alcoholic?’
‘Nope.’
‘And he gave up drink because he’s basically allergic to it?’
‘Yep.’
‘You know what this means?’
‘What?’
‘He’s perfect.’
Ken was adding up the final scores. ‘Freddie’s right, Kate,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘It’s no contest. You simply can’t choose an impoverished vegetarian cyclist over a billionaire carnivorous motorist. It just doesn’t compute.’
* * *
Freddie had been right about one thing, Kate thought later, as she got ready for her date with Brian. Life was too short, and you had to go after what you wanted – which was why she had decided to lay her cards on the table tonight and give Brian an ultimatum. There were certain things she wanted in life – marriage, children – and she knew she wasn’t going to get them drifting along with him. She was almost thirty and felt ready to settle down. She was also pretty sure that settling down was not on Brian’s agenda. He was too much of a free spirit – a fancy way of saying he was a commitment-phobe, according to Freddie. Butit was better she should find out now so she that could move on and find someone else.
She was going all out to vamp Brian tonight. She had decided to wear her new favourite new dress, a flirty poppy print with a fitted bodice and full, almost fifties-style skirt that flattered her figure to perfection. She had acquired it from one of the passengers on the African trip, who had lent it to her when she had nothing pretty to wear to the farewell dinner and later insisted she keep it. She would never have picked it out for herself – it was ridiculously girly, and she suspected it was also very expensive and way out of her price range – but she loved it, and it really suited her.
This was confirmed by Freddie, who came in a few moments later for the ‘dress rehearsal’, a pre-date ritual. ‘Killer dress!’ he said, his eyes popping gratifyingly. ‘You look stunning!’
‘Thanks,’ Kate smiled. ‘Okay, which shoes? There’s these…’ She held up a pair of flat cream pumps, which Freddie dismissed.
‘What about these?’ She held up a pair of flat red ballet shoes.
Freddie sighed in despair. He was always trying to cure Kate of her flat-shoe fetish.
Kate’s shoulders sagged despondently. ‘What then?’
‘What look are we going for?’
‘Marry-me-or-else,’ Kate replied unhesitatingly.
‘Okay, stand back.’ Freddie knelt down to rummage in her wardrobe. ‘I seem to remember… yes!’ He emerged with a pair of red kitten heel mules with bows.
‘Aren’t they a bit over the top?’
‘With that dress?’ Freddie squealed. ‘Besides, they just scream, “Snap me up quick before someone else does.”’
Kate slipped her feet into them and inspected herself in the mirror. Freddie was spot-on: they matched the poppies on thedress perfectly, and the increased height they gave her showed off her slim, tanned legs.
‘Perfect!’ he said contentedly, admiring her reflection in the mirror. ‘You’ll knock him dead.’
‘That’s the general idea.’
‘And they won’t know what hit them at Lentils R Us.’
* * *
As Kate applied her makeup so that it looked like she wasn’t wearing any (Brian liked the natural look), she suddenly felt defeated. She flung her blusher brush onto the dressing table. Why was it always like this with Brian? Why did she always feel as if she was on a winning-back mission, pulling out all the stops to attract him anew?
