you should have said. We talked for long enough.’
‘Well, OK, I didn’t say because I liked the sound of you so much and I was afraid that if you knew my situation you wouldn’t agree to meet me.’
‘Too bloody right. Being someone’s side-order wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.’
‘I don’t know why you’re so shocked,’ he said, with an air of exasperation as he buttered a Bath Oliver. ‘I’m offering something very … civilised. And let’s face it, Tiffany, lots of people have these sorts of arrangements.’
‘Well, lots of people aren’t me,’ I said. My throat was aching with a suppressed sob; tears pricked the back of my eyes. I glanced away from him, taking in the Marie Antoinette interior with its shining mirrored panels and gilded chandeliers. Then I looked at him again.
‘You said it was a proposition. And I don’t accept it. So I’m afraid you’ll just have to put it to someone else.’ I put my napkin on the table and stood up. ‘I think I’ll go home now. Goodbye. Thank you very much for dinner.’
I walked out through the bar, aware of the happy babble of voices, and the merry chink of cut glass. My face was flaming with a combination of indignation and the humid, midsummer heat. What a bastard, I thought as I crossed Piccadilly. Who did he think he was? More importantly, who did he think I was? What a cad. What a … I flagged down the number 38 and stepped on board. Empty. Good. At least I could cry without being stared at.
‘Cheer up darling,’ said the conductor as I sat in the front seat shielding my face with my left hand. ‘It may never happen.’
‘I know,’ I said, as a large, hot tear plopped onto my lap. Especially if I make a habit of dating men like Seriously Successful. What a creep. What did he take me for? I reached into my bag and pulled out my mobile phone. I’d ring Lizzie right now and tell her what a bastard he was. Part-time girlfriend indeed! She’d be sympathetic. I dialled her number.
‘We’re so sorry, but Lizzie and Martin aren’t here at the moment,’ declaimed her recorded voice. ‘But please do leave us a message … ’ God, so theatrical – you’d think she was auditioning for the RSC – ‘and we’ll get back to you just as soon as we can.’ Damn. I pressed the red button. Who could I talk to instead? I had to talk to someone. Sally. She’d dish out some sympathy. If she wasn’t in New York, Tokyo, Frankfurt, Washington or Paris. Ring ring. Ring ring.
‘Hallo,’ said Sally.
‘Sally, it’s Tiffany and I just wanted to tell you … ’
‘Tiffany! How are you?’
‘Very pissed off actually, because you see I’ve just been on a date, a blind date … ’
‘Gosh, that’s brave.’
‘Yes, I suppose it is. Or rather it’s not really brave, it’s stupid. Because you see I met this bloke, this adventurous, seriously successful managing director … ’
‘Yes? Sounds OK. What happened?’ The bus stopped in Shaftesbury Avenue, then – ding ding! - it moved off again.
‘Well, it was all going very well,’ I said. ‘I thought he was terribly attractive, and very interesting and incredibly funny … ’
‘Oh hang on, Tiffany, I’ve just got to catch the business headlines on Sky … ’ Her voice returned a minute later. ‘It’s OK, I was just checking the Dow Jones. Carry on. So what happened?’ Ding ding!
‘Well, it was going really well,’ I repeated. ‘And he seemed very interested in me, and I was certainly very interested in him and then … ’
‘Yes?’
‘Move down inside the bus please!’ Ding ding!
‘He told me that he was married and was only looking for a part-time girlfriend. What do you think of that?’
‘I think that’s awful,’ said the elderly woman sitting behind me. I turned round and looked at her. ‘I hope you gave him what for,’ she said.
‘Yes, I did actually. I was extremely insult—Sally? Are you still there?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘How ghastly. What a creep. But didn’t his ad say that he was married?’
‘No. It didn’t say he was married,’ I said dismally, as we chugged up Rosebery Avenue. ‘It simply said that he was looking for an unforgettable girl in her twenties or thirties to “spoil a little or even a lot”.’ A guffaw arose from behind me. What the hell was so funny? I turned round again and glared at the other passengers.
‘But Tiffany, you should have known,’ said Sally. Ding ding!
‘How?’
‘Because an offer to “spoil” a woman is shorthand for seeking a mistress. Like an offer to “pamper” her, or a request for “discretion”. You’ve got to learn the code if you’re going to do this kind of thing.’
‘Well I didn’t know that,’ I wailed. ‘I know that GSOH means Good Sense of Humour and I know VGSOH means Very Good Sense of Humour and that WLTM means Would Like To Meet.’
‘And LTR means Long Term Relationship,’ added Sally.
‘Does it?’
‘And W/E means “well-endowed”.’
‘Really? Good God! Anyway, I didn’t know that offering to “spoil” someone meant you already had a wife.’
‘Everyone knows that,’ said the middle-aged man across the aisle from me, unhelpfully.
‘Well, I didn’t – OK?’ I said. ‘Anyway Sally, Sally are you there? Hi. I’m just really, really pissed off. Seriously Successful? Seriously Swine-ish more like.’
‘What’s his real name?’ she asked, as we left the Angel.
‘God, I don’t know. I never asked,’ I said. ‘Anyway, whatever Seriously Slimy’s real name is, is no concern of mine. Seriously Unscrupulous … ’
‘Seriously Shallow,’ said the woman behind me.
‘Yes.’
‘And Seriously Sad,’ she concluded.
‘Quite. I mean, Sally, what on earth did he take me for?’
‘Never mind, Tiffany, that was bad luck,’ she said. ‘But I’m sure there’s someone nice just around the corner. Are you going to Lizzie’s for lunch on Sunday?’
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Well I’ll see you then,’ she said. ‘And chin up.’
I put my mobile phone away and took out my paper. Doing the crossword would calm me down. Bastard. Bastard. Fifteen
