Part 8 (2/2)

'Oh, fantastic,' agrees Laura, without pausing to worry about the cost as she usually does. Clearly, she's too happy for that.

Amelie secures the waiter's attention and orders champagne and a bottle of spring water. As soon as she has done so I ask again, 'Well, have you slept with him?'

'Stevie Jones seduced me with words,' said Laura grandly. I know she's been practising that opener, which I find a bit annoying. 'Not just the deep, melodious, soulful words of some of Elvis's songs and certainly not the silly, predictable, cheesy words of some of Elvis's other songs. Like that ”Surrender” one. I mean hearts on fire, going on about strange desires I ask you?'

At this point Laura rolls her eyes to suggest that such cliched words are ridiculous and beneath her. But the effect is ruined because if I had to describe Laura right now I'd say she looks just like someone whose heart is on fire, she looks exactly like someone in the grip of a strange desire. In the face of such evidence it's hard to laugh at the lyrics. I look to Amelie, she looks stunned too, I know she's seen it Laura has grown again. She is straighter, stronger and more magnificent than we have ever seen her.

'He seduced me with my own words,' Laura declares, grinning broadly.

'What do you mean?' asks Amelie.

'Stevie Jones asks me questions, listens to the answers and asks more questions. I have never felt so interesting in my life,' Laura explains. 'I know I should be sorry that I stayed in the pub after you split, Bella. Am I off the hook?' I nod and hope that Amelie notices I have the decency to blush. 'It was c.r.a.p of me. I know a good friend should have picked up her handbag and ignored the fact that he was singing to me.'

'He was?' I mumble.

'Yes,' Laura beams. 'I should have run straight out of the bar and chased you down the high street and found out why you'd suddenly turned all zombie on me, but I just couldn't. Sorry. How are you feeling now, by the way?'

'Still a bit nauseous,' I mutter, truthfully.

'I thought it must have been something you'd eaten or that we were mixing our drinks. Still, you should probably go to the doc and have it checked out. It's been hanging around for a while now, hasn't it?'

'I've felt sick for about six days.'

The waiter places a bottle of water on the table and brings the champagne to us in an ice bucket. No sooner has he poured than I've tipped mine down my throat. I pour myself a second.

'Cheers,' says Laura with a grin. 'You've some thirst on you, girl.'

I am only seconds away from yelling, 'Have you slept with him?' when Laura says, 'I can't believe I feel this happy when I still haven't slept with him.'

Hallelujah. I nearly punch the air, but such a gesture would certainly draw Laura and Amelie's attention.

'We've seen each other every day for six days and, let me tell you, I've been tempted. He's totally ”ooh-ah”.' Laura makes Meg Ryan-like fake o.r.g.a.s.m sounds; under different circ.u.mstances I'd be amused. 'But I'm taking things slowly,' she declares, with a smile.

'Never a bad approach,' says Amelie, looking at me meaningfully.

Phew. Deep breath. At least she's not in this too deep. Now I know they haven't done the deed I can relax enough to order sea ba.s.s with fries. Amelie orders the same. Laura goes for a prawn salad even though she is rake thin and could do with putting on a pound or two. I doubt she wants to tuck heartily into a plate of carbs, I don't expect she's felt much like eating since the fateful busking incident.

'So what have you been doing, if not s.h.a.gging?' asks Amelie. A question I find at once astute and helpful, yet a sad testament to the courts.h.i.+p rituals of the twenty-first century.

'On Sat.u.r.day we took Eddie to the Science Museum.'

'Isn't it a wee bit early to introduce them?' I ask. 'It'll confuse Eddie if Stevie is a fixture one moment and gone the next.' Which is my intention.

'We went to investigate gravity and locomotion, we did not swing from the chandeliers,' laughs Laura. What is it with all this laughing and giggling? 'In fact Stevie was really considerate around Eddie. He didn't even hold my hand. He just acted like we were mates. He spent most of his time playing with Eddie, not me.'

'Maybe he doesn't like holding hands in public,' I offer. 'Some men don't. Usually the s.h.i.+fty ones.'

'Well, when Eddie was at his dad's on Sunday we went to Camden Market and had lunch in Islington. He held my hand all the time.'

'Is he the right type of guy for you, though?' I ask. 'A busker? It's hardly a settled career.'

'He's not a busker, he's a teacher. The busking thing was a bet,' says Laura with a dismissive wave of her hand.

I'm relieved. As silly as it sounds, a tiny bit of me was uncomfortable with the fact that one of my husbands was a busker, although obviously, him having a proper job doesn't help me with my case to Laura.

'He's so much fun. He has real spirit. You know what I mean?'

I know what she means.

'He makes me feel like I'm sixteen.'

I know what she means.

'On Monday he came round after work and we didn't do much. He helped me bath Eddie. We read him a story together and then tucked him in. After that we just, you know...' Laura blushes.

I'm unsure what can be making her blush if they haven't s.h.a.gged.

'We just talked. Swapped viewpoints, put the world to rights. On Tuesday evening, after school, we went to a skateboarding exhibition over at Ally Pally.'

'You don't like skateboarding. That's not your cup of tea. Are you just doing these things to keep him happy? Have you considered you might not have that much in common?' I interject.

'Eddie loved it.'

'Well, that's probably because he stayed up late. Should he be staying up late on a school night? Is any of the compromise coming from Stevie or is it just your lifestyle that's being disrupted?' I sound like her mother and father rolled into one.

'On Wednesday he came with me to a kids' party that Eddie had been invited to. He spent two and a half hours giving piggybacks to kids with sticky hands and runny noses and tonight we've arranged a babysitter because we're going to see Chicago, the musical,' finishes Laura, triumphantly. We both know she's won her case. That's the problem with Stevie. He's, well, nice I suppose.

I stare at my sea ba.s.s, I've lost my appet.i.te.

Throughout lunch I point out the possible pitfalls of a new relations.h.i.+p. It's not an easy argument to construct as it is generally accepted wisdom that falling in love is a good thing.

'You don't want to allow this flirtation to distract you from your studies.' Laura is studying on a part-time basis to become a reflexologist.

'I can practise my ma.s.sage on him.' She grins.

'You're always saying that you have no time left after caring for Eddie, working and studying. Something will slip.'

'What? Like my career as the glorified gofer at the local surgery? I'm gutted,' she says sarcastically. 'Look, I don't know how to explain it but somehow Stevie has slipped into my life very easily. He isn't pulling me in another direction. He's pulling with me. I can't tell you how bewdy it was to have someone help with putting Eddie to bed.'

I want to point out Stevie's shortcomings: he lacked ambition, he wanted to live miles away from where I wanted to live and his obsession with Elvis was impossible. I'm not sure Laura cares about any of this. Besides, Stevie's a teacher now. He has a career while I'm still pottering not a great thought. Even I can see that the long holidays would come in handy for childcare if Laura hooked up with him on a permanent basis. Not that I'm suggesting for a moment she should. It's just, if we weren't talking about Stevie and we were talking about some other guy who gave piggybacks and went to musicals, then we'd be projecting as far as the second baby by now. I remember Stevie's fab body; from my glimpse on Friday, it doesn't appear that he's let that go to seed. I remember he was kind, witty, deep and fun. I can't imagine these things will help me ruin Stevie for Laura.

'You don't know anything about him,' I point out. I realize I'm on dangerous territory. It's galling that the one piece of information that would put Laura off Stevie, the fact that he is a married man, wouldn't show me in a great light either. 'He might be...' I search around '... on the rebound or gay or a drug-user.' Laura looks at me pityingly.

'Will you excuse me? I need to visit the bathroom,' she says, with excessive formality.

Amelie waits until she's out of earshot and demands, 'What the h.e.l.l are you playing at?'

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