Page 41 of Beg, Borrow or Steal
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Jamie watched Libby laugh, and felt his stomach hollow out at how beautiful her face was when it was lit with humour, and a surge of pride that he had managed to make it happen. Every male in that restaurant, and more than likely a few females, had noticed Libby. Her incredible blue eyes highlighted by subtle make-up, combined with that dress, made her look so beautiful it was almost otherworldly. Jamie had never felt such fierce resentment at having the woman he was with be openly admired by so many people. He was not by nature a very possessive man, but he found himself wishing as they moved through the tables that he’d just taken them back to his place and cooked her a shepherd’s pie. (His shepherd’s pie was bloody good – even if Pav did tell him he cooked like an elderly northerner during the Blitz.) And when she was so obviously uncomfortable sitting across from him, he was definitely regretting his decision to bring her out. But after what she’d told him …
He understood it; he did, given her situation. But for a woman as charismatic and beautiful as her – to have never been taken out for a meal, never eaten in a restaurant, never been on a date was insane.
‘So, were you with Pav on Ko Pha Ngan?’ Libby asked through her smile. ‘Any class-A drugs or lady-boy run-ins for you?’
‘No, no way. I would never take any …’ Jamie cleared his throat and lightened his tone, hoping she hadn’t noticed how touchy he was about drugs. ‘I was busy poncing around Central America in sarong trousers, trying to find myself.’ Libby’s smile widened and she leaned forward into her hands on the table.
‘Central America? Like Mexico, Honduras, Belize, Guatamala? What was it like? Rosie and I look at our globe at home and then we Google the countries – I think she reckons it’s to prep for her work on the high seas. Central America looks amazing.’
And so he told her about diving in Honduras, about the Mayan ruins in Belize, about the old American school buses they rode around in on their backpacker budget, stuffed with chickens and Mexicans. Even after their food had arrived she kept teasing out everything about his travels, everything he’d done in those long summers at medical school. Unlike his friends, Jamie had never had to work to earn the money to go away, so the entirety of his summers could be spent swanning around the globe, learning to dive, learning to windsurf, learning to ski, learning to sail: he’d done it all. And it was the only time he didn’t have to succumb to the unrelenting pressure of perfection.
After some pushing it came to light that Libby had never actually been on a plane. Her parents had taken her to Spain and France in their camper van as a child, but since Rosie she had just taken little trips in this country – the last one was last summer (possibly the wettest in recent memory). She’d borrowed a tent from a friend to take with her and Rosie to Cornwall. Brian had broken down twice. The tent had leaked and Rosie had ended up in Libby’s sleeping bag once she’d started shivering with cold. It made Jamie feel like a horse’s arse for banging on about his world travels for so long, but Libby had been so totally enraptured by his stories and asked so many questions that she was impossible to resist.
‘That was the best bloody stuff I’ve ever eaten,’ she declared after putting away an impressive amount of pad Thai and red curry. ‘I feel like Mr Creosote.’
‘One wafer-thin mint?’ Jamie asked in a bad French accent.
‘Bring me a bucket,’ Libby growled, puffing her cheeks out and then collapsing into another fit of giggles. And watching her laugh, noticing the people nearest to them stop to watch her too (some with forks suspended in mid air) Jamie blurted out something he should probably have thought through first.
‘Spend the weekend with me.’
Libby’s giggles turned into a coughing fit at his statement. He’d noticed her cough off and on before now and had been meaning to ask her about it, but decided it could wait for now, too keen to hear her response.
‘Uh … what?’ she managed to get out after the coughing subsided.
‘Next weekend. Spend it with me. You and Rosie can stay in my house.’
She smiled. ‘Wow, that’s … well, that’s an amazing offer but I don’t know if I should confuse Rosie when it’s so early on and we don’t really know each other. So – ’
‘I know you. I know Rosie. This might be our first dinner alone but we’ve spent a ton of time together already. Say yes.’
‘I …’ She trailed off and bit her lip. He could sense her wavering.
‘Mum and Dad are having their monthly family barbeque on the Saturday. Seb will be there for Rosie to play with.’ He wanted her to meet his parents. He wanted her and Rosie surrounded by his family; somehow it felt like that would stake a claim on her – make this all more real. He had the sudden desire to pull her into his life, into his family’s life, like she was his, like she belonged there. But as soon as he said the word ‘Mum’ he saw her stiffen in his seat and watched as her smile died and her beautiful face drained of colour.
‘Varping heck, what time is it?’ she asked, looking down at her watch. Jamie smiled; he’d noticed Libby only ever used swear words from a galaxy far, far away, and guessed that having a four-year-old would probably do that to you. ‘We’d better be going – Kira’s got a bit of a trek back to her place and we’ve an early tutorial with – ’
‘I mean it, Libby,’ he said, ‘I really would like you to come.’
Libby’s mouth tightened and she looked down at the table. ‘No … no you don’t,’ she whispered.
‘I don’t understand. Of course I –’
‘I heard you, Jamie, remember? I heard what you said.’
Jamie’s heart sank to his stomach and his faced flushed at the memory.
‘Can you please forget about that? I was being a total knob, trying to save face. If I could go back I’d – ’
‘I’m working this weekend anyway,’ she told him, leaning back into her chair. He could see the shields coming back up around her to shut him out. His mind flashed to the image of her in her Victoria’s Secret number in the club and a violent flash of rage went through his body. With a supreme effort of will he suppressed the anger, balling his hands into tight fists under the table and breathing slowly to control his voice.
‘Why don’t you skip it this weekend?’ he asked, forcing what he hoped would pass for a casual smile but likely came out more like a grimace. ‘If you don’t want to go to Mum and Dad’s, I could take you guys out on the boat again and we could – ’
‘I can’t“skip it”,’ Libby told him carefully. ‘I don’t have that luxury.’
‘Surely just one weekend wouldn’t – ’
