a bit odd so I let go of both Jeremy and Francesca. ‘I hope you’re enjoying the party.’
‘I am.’ How could I not? ‘So how did you two meet?’
Francesca tilted her head to gaze lovingly at Jeremy and a spike of loneliness shot through me. I’d been single for quite a while (just three months, now I think about it, but when you’re twenty-one, that’s a lifetime and makes you feel like a bit of a loser).
‘Jeremy works for Daddy. Luckily he already thinks of Jeremy as the son he never had, so he doesn’t mind.’ Francesca giggled as she raised herself up on her tiptoes to kiss Jeremy’s cheek. ‘They get on so well. Don’t you, darling?’
‘We do. He’s a great guy.’
My lip, against my wishes, began to curl. He’s a great guy. What a bum-lick. I willed my lips to remain in their benign smile, to not wreck this for me (I didn’t fancy trekking into town to catch the train home in the dark if I was ejected from the party), but they were soon distracted by the appearance of the most gorgeous man I have ever seen. Including film stars. John Travolta, Gene Kelly, Jamie Foxx – they had nothing on this man. My mouth gaped open as he passed, my eyes following him, memorising him. Francesca followed my gaze and, to my utter mortification, she flung out a hand to grab him by the sleeve. I quickly closed my mouth and checked the corners for drool. None – phew!
‘Ben! Come and meet my good friend, Delilah James.’ Francesca tugged him into our little group. ‘Delilah, this is Jeremy’s best friend, Ben Martin.’
‘Hello.’ I gave a little wave like the dork that I am. ‘Lovely to meet you.’
Lovely to meet you? I’d be curtseying next. I told myself to get a grip, and bloody fast.
‘It’s lovely to meet you too, Delilah James.’ God, his voice was dreamy.
‘Great party, isn’t it?’ My voice was a bit slurry from the cocktails and lust.
Ben nodded and looked down at my hand. Oh God, I wasn’t offering it to him to kiss, was I? ‘But you don’t appear to have a drink. Come with me.’
Francesca winked at me as I scuttled after Ben. He’d taken my hand (and it felt amazing) and was striding towards the bar. He was a much faster walker than me, but it meant I got to have a good old look at his bum as we dodged the crowds (and it was gooood).
Ben ordered glasses of champagne for us and it didn’t really matter that he hadn’t asked me what I wanted first. I was pretty sure I’d have picked a glass of champagne to have a break from the cocktails anyway. Pressing a glass into my hand, he took hold of the other and led me away from the bar, snaking out of the crowded room and into the kitchen, where the chef was busy grilling gourmet burgers. My stomach gurgled in appreciation of the yummy smells but Ben continued on his path, passing through the kitchen and out into the garden. Never mind. I wasn’t that hungry anyway.
The garden was massive, stretching much further than my eyes could see (and not just because my vision was on the hazy side due to the cocktails) but we only moved a few yards to a fairy-lit gazebo.
‘I thought it might be nice to sit out here. It’s a bit hectic in there.’ Ben sat on the bench inside the gazebo and I followed suit. ‘It’s difficult to talk inside and I get the feeling you’d make fascinating company, Delilah James.’
‘Oh,’ I squeaked. Fascinating? Me?
‘Tell me about yourself.’ Ben turned on the bench so his gaze was directly on me, urging me to speak. What should I tell him? He was under the assumption I was fascinating but the truth was quite the opposite. ‘What do you do?’
‘I’m an admin assistant.’ I pulled a face. ‘Bit boring, really.’
‘Don’t say that!’ Ben grasped my hand and I felt myself go a bit giddy at the touch. ‘Nothing is boring about you, I can tell.’ Ben was in for a disappointing evening then. ‘What kind of company do you work for?’
‘It’s a biscuit factory.’
‘See!’ Ben’s face became animated, almost boyish. ‘A biscuit factory! How awesome is that? I love biscuits. What’s your favourite kind? Mine’s chocolate chip.’
‘I like chocolate chip too.’
Ben grinned and leapt to his feet. ‘Let’s go and ask the chef to bake us some biscuits right now. Chocolate chip!’
‘I think he’s busy with the burgers,’ I pointed out but Ben shrugged.
‘I’m sure he won’t mind. Come on, Delilah James.’ He held out his hand and I took it. I knew then that I’d always want to hold this hand. ‘I was right about you. You, Delilah James, are the most fascinating girl at this party.’
And the funny thing was, when I was with Ben, I felt like the most fascinating girl at the party. We ate chocolate chip cookies and sipped our champagne in the gazebo, we went for a midnight dip in the pool and made use of the plush, four-poster bed in the room Ben had bagged earlier. In the morning we ate pancakes together and explored the extensive gardens even though it was drizzling, and spent the afternoon back in the four-poster. When the time came to leave, Ben insisted on giving me a lift back to Woodgate instead of catching the train and when he said he’d call me, I believed him.
Ben was everything I wanted in a boyfriend; kind, attentive and reliable. If he said he would call on Sunday at eight, he would call on Sunday at eight. There were no games with Ben, no deciphering the boy code to figure out what he meant. It was easy with Ben. We fit.
‘Ben’s smitten with you, you know,’ Francesca had whispered to me the next time we met. We’d got together as a foursome with Jeremy and Ben, which we would do quite a bit over the next three years.
‘I’m smitten with Ben.’
And I was. I really was. I thought we’d be together forever. This was it, my very own The One. I wanted to break out in song like my favourite musical heroines. Life with Ben was perfect. Until nine months ago, when he decided it was no longer working for us.
‘But it’s working for me,’ I’d pointed out. Nothing had changed. We fit just as much as we always had.
‘But it isn’t working for me, Delilah.’ I was no longer fascinating Delilah James to Ben. Just plain old Delilah. ‘I want more from life than a stale relationship.’
Ben may as well have slugged me in the stomach. ‘You think our relationship is stale?’
Ben had snorted. ‘Don’t you?’
‘No!’ It was perfect. Had been perfect until two minutes ago. ‘What do you want me to do? I’ll do it. Anything.’
‘I don’t want you to do anything,’ Ben said. ‘I don’t want you at all.’
And then he’d gone. Left without a goodbye or even a parting glance. Ben didn’t want me. But I wanted him and I still do, which is why I’m dreading the words that are about to come out of Francesca’s mouth as we sit in the café.
‘What about Ben?’ Why did I ask? Why didn’t I just get up from my seat and walk out of the café in blissful ignorance?
‘He’s
