THE HUSBAND HUNTERS (14 page)

‘What did she say to that?’ I asked.

‘She gave me a hug, telling me it wasn’t my fault and I shouldn’t blame myself. But she’s adamant she’s not going to report him. She’s worried that he may hit James. In the end, I knew I couldn’t persuade her, so I left as I was worried that he was going to come round and find me there. I left her my mobile number and told her to call me if she needed me.’

I could see Kaz’s dilemma. But I had to agree with her. If Lisa didn’t want to report Pete, then there was nothing Kaz could do. If she called the police herself and reported what had happened to Lisa, then Lisa could deny it, and Kaz could get into trouble herself.

I rang off from Kaz, promising to meet her for lunch the next day. I went to run a bath. This husband hunting lark was exhausting, I thought as I ran the hot water. There were five times as many problems as running my own life. Looking after my friends’ lives was turning out to be a full time job.

The next evening, I had to go to a party at a local gallery. It was being held by one of our biggest clients, and we were all expected to attend.

I slicked some coral lip gloss on, and forced some diamond studs through my ears. I hardly ever wore earrings, and I had to virtually re-pierce my ears each time. I’d had them pierced for my 13th birthday, and then I’d had another three piercings into my right ear when I was 17 and going through a short-lived hippy grunge stage.

Rach had come with me to have it done, and I’d wanted to get my nose pierced afterwards. I tried to persuade Rach to have it done too, but even then she was conscious about the size of her nose.

‘I want to get my nose reduced, not bring attention to it, Bee,’ she had said firmly, as we walked through town. Luckily when we had arrived at the rather dingy looking back street shop, with my ear already throbbing from three new studs, the nose stud place had been closed. We’d gone home and luckily I forgot about having it done, and never went back.

Now at nearly 30, I looked in the mirror and thanked God for the millionth time that I didn’t have a stud through my nose. I fastened the back of my earrings, and wiped the spot of blood away with a tissue.

I’d invited Kaz to come with me to the party. When we arrived at the gallery, it was in full swing. Maria, the manager of our model agency was there in all her botoxed glory. Maria had so much lip filler pumped into her swollen lips that she sounded like she had a mouth full of marbles. I’d have told her that it wasn’t a good look – if she hadn’t been my manager and could sack me.

She came over to talk to us and Kaz kept saying ‘sorry, what was that?’ . Maria kept having to repeat herself. I could see Kaz watching in fascination at Maria’s huge pink shining lips struggling to get around the syllables.

A tray went past loaded with canapés. My stomach rumbled as I hadn’t had any time for any dinner. How many could I have without looking exceptionally greedy, I thought, reaching out for several prawn vol au vents and some tomato bruschettas at the same time. I loaded my napkin. I could always follow the waitress round and grab some more in a few minutes. I stuffed one of the vol-au-vents into my mouth and felt a tap on my shoulder, I swung around frantically trying to brush the pastry crumbs from my chin, and came face to face with Nick. I swallowed the vol-au-vent so fast it almost stuck in my throat. Visions of Nick having to give me the Heimlich Manoeuvre to free a wedged prawn from my throat flashed before my eyes. Trust him to catch me at a moment when I’d been stuffing my face. He was grinning at my frantic efforts to appear cool and collected.

‘How’s it going?’ he asked, when I could finally speak again.

‘Fine until you appeared and I started choking,’ I said, glaring at him. ‘What are you doing here anyway?.

‘Maria asked me to exhibit some of my wildlife photography at the gallery tonight,’ he said. ‘So I thought I’d pop by in person and see how it’s going. I’ve had a few offers for a couple of them.’

‘That’s brilliant,’ I said.

‘I’d like you to meet Claire,’ said Nick, pulling at the hand of a girl who was standing behind him. It was his 22 year old nubile student. I had to admit, Nick had done pretty well for himself. Claire was an attractive redhead, who was wearing a simple short metallic grey shift dress, with her hair loose and curly around her shoulders.

She looked effortlessly trendy. I almost ground my teeth with annoyance that Nick hadn’t told me how gorgeous she was. He must be laughing at me behind my back about the HHC and my antics to find a husband, when he had a piece like that, hanging onto his arm. She seemed totally enthralled with everything he had to say, hanging onto his arm and looking adoringly up at him. She must be stupid, I thought cattily.

I actually felt like a Has-Been, Hag and Crone next to her. Suddenly the black trousers, heels and silver sequinned bustier top which I’d thought looked really sophisticated earlier on now made me feel like a dowdy aunt in comparison. My hair felt flat, and I felt conscious of every wrinkle, next to this youthful vision.

I turned to Kaz.

‘Let’s circulate,’ I said, trying to sound important, and flashing Nick a quick smile as we walked off.

‘Is that the Nick from your agency?’ said Kaz, admiringly, looking back over her shoulder. ‘With a girlfriend like that, it’s a good job you didn’t make a play for him Bee. He looks a bit out of your league.’

I nearly spat out the mouthful of champagne I had just swallowed.

‘Kaz, how can you possibly think he’s gorgeous,’ I raged. ‘He looks like he cuts his hair with a knife and fork. He never shaves and he thinks gyms belong on another planet,’ I said, listing Nick’s crimes one by one.

‘And you should see his wardrobe,’ I carried on. ‘I agree he doesn’t look bad tonight as he’s wearing jeans and a black shirt, but normally the fashion police would be having a field day.’

‘I think you’re being a bit harsh. If he was a bit wealthier, I’d have made a play for him myself,’ said Kaz, confidently, helping herself to a mini Yorkshire pudding as the canapé tray went past. I had been so busy slagging Nick off that I hadn’t seen it, and I lunged forward to quickly grab one too, but the waitress had gone. A minute later, there was a tap on my shoulder again. It was Nick holding out a napkin with four mini Yorkshire puddings on it.

‘I saw your attempts a few seconds ago,’ he said. ‘You must be starving, have these.’

Great, so now he thinks I’m a fat pig too, I thought taking the napkin from him. Next to his gorgeous student, I now not only felt about 50, but also the size of a house.

Kaz and I left the party a few hours later and went back home. She was still going on about how attractive Nick was when I dropped her off at her house.

‘I think you missed out there Bee,’ she said, getting out the car. ‘You should have got in there before he settled for a younger model.’

‘But I don’t fancy him at all, and never will,’ I shouted after Kaz as she walked down her path. ‘So how could I have possibly gone out with him?’ She shrugged.

‘You could have grown to fancy him,’ she called back. I wound up the window and drove home, thinking about Nick. He wasn’t my type at all, although I must admit, seeing his girlfriend had needled me.

The next morning I had an idea. Tash had promised to show me how to make Duck a l’Orange, but so far she hadn’t been able to come round . I needed to start making an improvement on my cookery skills, and anyway, how difficult would it be to follow a recipe?

The only thing I needed was a man to try it out on - a man whom I didn’t care what I fed him, so there would be no extra pressure. My eye fell on Nick, who was holding some images up to the light box by his computer.

I told him my idea.

‘You see, I need someone unimportant to test it out on,’ I said. ‘Someone whom I’m not trying to impress, so I can practise it a bit.’

I saw his doubtful expression. ‘It would be a free dinner,’ I cajoled.

‘OK’ he said. ‘But I don’t want food poisoning as I’m going to Africa to do some wildlife photography next week.’

‘Ha, ha, very funny,’ I said. ‘Actually it might be a good opportunity to slip some poison down your throat, then at least I would get some peace around here.’ I flicked through my diary for a free night. ‘How does Thursday suit you?’

‘That’s fine, looking forward to it,’ said Nick, grimacing.

Thursday was here before I knew it. Damn, it was lunchtime already and I hadn’t even started buying any ingredients for the orange duck thing. I typed it into the internet and came up with a recipe.

‘I’ll be back in an hour,’ I shouted to Maria, as I ran out the door and headed for Marks and Spencers.

I trailed up and down the aisles, getting the ingredients. It would have been much easier to make my pasta dish, I thought, as I chucked duck breasts, sugar and balsamic vinegar into my basket.

I struggled into my flat later that evening with the shopping bags. What a load of faff, I thought unloading the shopping in the kitchen. Why can’t men just be satisfied with the ‘whore in the bedroom’ bit? I’d done a full days work, the last thing I wanted to do was start slaving in the kitchen now. I fancied lying full length on the sofa watching Coronation Street.

I smoothed out the recipe. Scour the side of duck breast and season with salt and pepper. God this was easy, I thought, slashing at the duck breast with a kitchen knife, and throwing some salt and pepper carelessly over it.

Zest orange and blanch in hot water. I scraped at some of the skin of the orange with my grater. I grated a bit of skin off my finger, which started to smart, and I peered into the zest, trying to fish it out. Never mind, Nick will never taste that, I thought, wrapping some kitchen roll around my grated finger.

I didn’t know what blanching was, so I chucked the rest of the orange in a pan of boiling water and hoped for the best. I was pleased with it so far. It had been going like clockwork.

I couldn’t believe Nigella Lawson got paid thousands of pounds to do this. It was so easy. Maybe I should give up my job at the model agency and start my own cookery programme, I thought, putting the duck broth onto simmer. I looked at my watch to time the duck breast cooking for two minutes. Heck, I’d better get a move on, Nick will be here in 15 minutes. I hadn’t had time to have a shower or change, but that didn’t matter, I thought, adding the sugar and grand Marnier into the pan.

Now was the fun bit. I had to light the grand Marnier, and then afterwards let it simmer. I struck a match and the flames whooshed up towards the ceiling fan. It took me by surprise, I hadn’t expected them to go up so high. This was amazing. I had thought cooking was really boring, but it was turning out to be pretty good fun.

I waited for the flames to go out, but they didn’t. They started to roar a little bit. I’m sure this wasn’t meant to happen. The recipe definitely said that the flames should subside after a few seconds. I looked at the pan. Oh my God, it was on fire. What was I going to do?

The doorbell rang. I raced to open the door.

‘Come quickly,’ I yelled. ‘The kitchen’s on fire.’ Nick ran into the flat. The flames had engulfed the top of the cooker and the extractor fan, and were roaring even further upwards, towards the ceiling. I started screaming at Nick to do something.

Quickly he ran to the side of the kitchen and grabbed the fire extinguisher that Scarlett had insisted we have there. I’d laughed at her at the time, but now I could have kissed her. Quickly Nick aimed the extinguisher at the pan, and a jet of foam shot out. Within seconds, the flames had gone, leaving the pan smouldering on the stove. My legs suddenly turned to jelly, and I had to sit down very quickly on the kitchen floor.

Nick fished around in the pan, and pulled out too very small charred balls. They just looked like a pair of testicles, I thought, having a sudden urge to burst out laughing. I caught Nick’s eye and he started laughing too. Then I couldn’t stop. I was half laughing and half crying at the shock of nearly burning to death in my own kitchen.

‘C’mon, let’s order a pizza,’ said Nick, pulling me to my feet. Twenty minutes later we were sat on my sofa sharing a double pepperoni pizza.

‘I’m a disaster,’ I moaned to Nick, balancing a piece of pizza on my knee. ‘How am I ever going to find a husband if I can’t cook.’ I explained to him about Tash’s ‘whore in the bedroom, goddess in the kitchen’ theory, and he laughed.

‘If men need a goddess in the kitchen, then you are doomed to be single for the rest of your life,’ he laughed. ‘But most men are happy with beans on toast, so I wouldn’t worry.’

I told the girls about my culinary disaster at the HHC meeting two days later.

‘It was so embarrassing,’ I said, holding my head in my hands at the humiliating memory. ‘I was left with what looked like two charred testicles, and we had to end up ringing for pizza.’

Tash shook her head. ‘That’s what you get for trying to rush things, Bee,’ she chided. ‘You should have waited for your cookery lesson and then I could have shown you how to make it properly. You obviously had the pan for too hot. It’s a good job it was only Nick who you were cooking for, and not a real date.’

I noticed Kaz was looking a bit down in the dumps.

‘What’s up Kaz?’ I said.

‘It’s James,’ she said, twirling a piece of pasta onto her fork. ‘He’s got engaged on holiday. That puts me well and truly out of the picture now.’ We all gasped. Kaz had been making such progress.