Part 28 (1/2)

'I like a woman who enjoys her food,' Andreas said, with a wink.

Ears still ringing, she was just standing up to join Freddie in his bathroom visit, when from behind them, Toby said, 's.h.i.+ft your fat a.r.s.e, Freddie. I want to talk to Poppy now.'

Her heart helter-skeltered, as Freddie stood up and Toby slipped into his seat.

'I thought I'd never get a chance,' he said in a low voice, so only she could hear. 'Are you having fun?'

'Um...'

He laughed at her expression. 'Say no more. I'm sorry, sweetheart. Most of these people are a.r.s.eholes.'

'Then why have you invited them to your birthday dinner?' Poppy found the world a stranger and stranger place.

'Work really. They're contacts you know. My job's all about keeping people sweet. Freddie helps style a lot of my male clients and Andreas is... well, he knows a lot of people I have to deal with too.'

'And the girls?' Poppy said, glancing at a giggling Daisy.

'Well, the girls are gorgeous. They come with me to a lot of events my clients attend and they keep my clients very happy.' He lowered his voice again. 'But none of them are as gorgeous as you.'

'Oh.' Poppy felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. 'Excuse me a second,' she said pulling it out, her cheeks hot. Probably Luke. She wondered what she'd tell him she was doing. But no, it was Brigita.

'Is everything OK?' she gasped, sticking a finger in her ear so she could hear.

'I don't think so. Clara she is puking everywhere. Very sick. Like Exorcist Exorcist. She wants Mummy. You must come home.'

Shock crashed Poppy into an invisible wall. 'Oh my G.o.d. I'll be right back.' She hung up. 'I'm sorry, but I have to go,' she said to the table at large.

'Cinderella!' Freddie giggled. 'It's not gone midnight yet. Does your carriage await?'

'My little girl's not well.'

'G.o.d, kids,' Daisy snorted. 'Eating too many pies? Like her mum Like her mum,' she added under her breath.

Face flaming, head held high, Poppy tapped Toby on the shoulder. 'I'm sorry, but I have to go,' she said again. 'Thank you for a lovely evening.'

'I'll see you to a taxi.' Toby stood up.

Outside, they spotted a cab straight away. Poppy got in, heart thudding. 'Thank you,' she said distractedly. 'Have fun.'

'I won't without you,' Toby said in a low voice. He bent forward and kissed her softly on the lips. For a second, inhaling his musky smell, Poppy felt a sherbert fizzle in her veins but anxiety almost immediately erased it.

'Why is it that whenever I'm with you, someone somewhere always starts vomiting?'

Poppy was sure there was a witty retort to this, but she just smiled and shrugged. 'Maida Vale,' she told the driver. 'As quick as you can, please. My baby's sick.'

36.

By the time Poppy ran up the stairs to Clara's room, the drama was all over.

'I tidy up vomit, she is fast asleep now,' Brigita explained, as Clara rolled over and squawked 'Mummy', before rolling back on to her front, her bottom poking up in the air.

'But is she OK?' Poppy stroked her soft blonde curls.

'I take her temperature. Is normal. I think is just one of these children things.'

She certainly looked fine. 'You could have called me, to tell me she was better,' Poppy said crossly. 'I was really worried.'

'Me too, but this is children for you. I think it's best you are home.' Brigita gave Poppy a look she didn't like very much. 'Better the safe than the sorry, this is what I say. Anyway, now you're back I'll be off. I will see you Monday.'

So Poppy crawled into bed alone. Already rewriting history, she thought of her new friends in the restaurant, laughing and joking without her, before moving on to a nightclub. There'd been talk of Mahiki or Boujis. She forgot that she'd felt slightly awkward among them and instead brooded that she should be with them, dancing and flirting. But instead, yet again, here she was stuck alone in her marital bed with a two-year-old next door. It wasn't fair. She'd missed out on her youth and now she'd been given a chance to s.n.a.t.c.h some of it back, domestic responsibilities still got in the way.

Then she reprimanded herself for thinking of adored Clara as a domestic responsibility. A second later, she squirmed at her naivety in thinking she was going on a date with Toby. After all, he'd never actually described it as such. How everyone must have laughed at that silly book she'd given him and at her having to leave so suddenly. Then she thought of Luke in Scotland, whom she had deliberately not called and guilt crept over her. All right, she was angry at how often he left her alone and now she a.n.a.lysed it a little jealous of his freedom. But she'd known Luke travelled when she married him. He was out earning money to support her and Clara while she'd been out flirting with another man. There was no getting away from it, she'd behaved badly.

Mother and daughter spent the following morning curled up on the sofa, watching the Jungle Book Jungle Book. As Clara roared with laughter at the antics of Mowgli and Baloo, Poppy's heart ached with love. She was furious with herself for resenting Clara's sickness. She was a terrible mother, a terrible person.

The doorbell rang.

'Mr Postman!' Clara cried.

'No, darling, it's Sunday.' Poppy was baffled. She went to the front door and opened it to be greeted by a huge bunch of poppies.

'Miss Poppy,' said a bored-sounding man from behind them.

'That's me.'

'For you.' He thrust the flowers at her, then ran back down the steps to his van. Poppy put the bunch down and looked at the accompanying card. Her heart was thudding. She was pretty sure she knew who they were from, but you could always get these things wrong.

Poppies make drugs and you're certainly my narcotic. See you soon, beautiful. T x.x.x Poppy inhaled sharply. She read the message again, then again and was saved from another perusal by the phone ringing.

'h.e.l.lo?' she said, breathily sure it was him.

'Darling, it's me!' Honk, honk. 'Oh, get out of my way, you a.r.s.ehole.'

'Hi, Mum. How was Ma.r.s.eilles?'

Her mother's voice was like bleach down a clogged drain. 'A dump. I shan't be returning there in a hurry.'

'Oh. So you didn't see...?' Poppy couldn't remember his name. 'Your friend?'

'We had a drink. His sister was staying with him, so we were unable to go out for dinner as we'd arranged. But he says he'll be in England soon and we'll meet then.'

'Oh, really? Well, that's good.' The front door opened and Luke stood there, looking weary, a suitcase at his feet. 'Oh, h.e.l.lo!' she squawked shoving the card from the flowers into her pocket. 'Mum, I've got to go. Luke's just got back. We'll talk later.' Ignoring the squawks of protest, she hung up. 'How was Minnie?' she said to her husband.

'I wouldn't really know. She blew us out.'

'Daddeeee!' called Clara, running into the hallway. Luke dropped on to his knees.