His Pretend Wife. Lucy Gordon

pink and mauve creation.

      ‘I thought you’d pick that one,’ she said.

      ‘I guess that means everyone does, huh?’

      ‘Not everyone. Only the fellers. I’ll gift-wrap it for free. I guess I owe you, and I like to pay my debts.’

      ‘Ah! Now that’s a pity because I was hoping you’d pay your debt in another way.’

      ‘How?’

      ‘I’d feel self-conscious turning up alone at this do. Since you and Johnny are—aren’t—well, you might come with me. Just to make me look good.’

      ‘You didn’t bring Lilian?’

      ‘Why should you ask that?’ he demanded, suddenly self-conscious. ‘It’s what my mother said. I don’t know why everyone assumes that—I’m fond of Lilian but we’re not joined at the hip—head—’ he corrected hastily. He had a horrible feeling that he was blushing like a boy.

      ‘The only problem is that it’s the store’s late night,’ Ellie said. ‘We don’t close until nine.’

      ‘I’ll be outside, waiting.’

      When the time came she was late, filling him with dread lest she’d thought better of it and stood him up.

      ‘Did you think I wasn’t coming?’ Her voice burst through his gloomy reverie. ‘I’m so sorry, but the manager wouldn’t stop talking.’

      ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said, brilliant with joy. ‘You’re here.’

      She tucked her arm in his as they began to walk. ‘Have you been to Johnny’s party?’

      ‘Yes, and it was noisy. Johnny was talking about going to the funfair in the park later, and most of the food at home has gone now. Why don’t we grab a snack somewhere, and join them later?’

      ‘Great.’

      He took her to a small French restaurant, formal, but pleasantly quiet. She didn’t look out of place here as she would have done in her gold party get-up, Andrew realised. Everything about her was more restrained, more gentle, more delightful.

      ‘Did your mother like her present?’ she asked.

      ‘She was over the moon,’ he said truthfully. ‘You’d have thought I’d bought her a whole bath house instead of a few cakes of soap.’

      ‘It’s not the soap. It’s because you thought of her.’

      ‘I guess you’re right.’

      ‘I know I’m right. You should see some of my male customers, getting all worked up about this perfume or that perfume, treating it like rocket science. And I want to grab their lapels and yell, “Just show her you’ve thought of her. That’s the real present.” Gee, men can be so dumb.’

      ‘I guess we can,’ he said, entranced, willing her to go on.

      She did so, entertaining him for several minutes with a witty description of life at the cosmetics counter, which seemed to be a crash course in human nature. Again he had the feeling that she was more mature than he remembered. The true reason didn’t occur to him. This was her subject. She was an expert in it, and therefore at an advantage.

      She was a joy to treat, revelling in every new taste with a defenceless candour that went to his heart.

      ‘You aren’t eating,’ she challenged, looking up from the steak dressed with the chef’s ‘special’ sauce.

      ‘I’m enjoying watching you too much,’ he said, and was surprised at himself. Normally he avoided any remark, however trivial, that savoured of self-revelation. It was her, he decided. Her frankness demanded a response.

      ‘It’s yummy,’ she said blissfully.

      ‘And there’s even better to come.’

      ‘Ice cream?’

      ‘That’s right. We’ll have everything on the menu.’

      ‘Go on, I’m more grown up than that.’ She looked at him slyly. ‘Well, almost.’

      He groaned. ‘Am I ever going to be forgiven for the things I said that time?’

      ‘Well, I guess you were right. Mind you, I’d die before admitting it.’

      He grinned. She laughed back, and suddenly their first meeting became a shared joke.

      ‘I’m surprised you want to bother with a kids’ party,’ she said. ‘Don’t we all seem very juvenile to you?’

      ‘My mother wanted me to come, and I guess I did it to please her.’