My Fake Wedding(90)

Until Jake stands up, that is, and I realise he’s still as tall and handsome as ever. That unruly dark hair is so sexy it takes my breath away and I involuntarily take a step backwards, losing my footing as I do so and ending up straight on my arse.

Nice one, Katie. Real slick.

‘How did you find me?’

‘Your mum told me where you were.’

‘She did?’

What the bloody hell is she playing at? Mind you, she always did have a bit of a thing for Jake. He was such a smarmball whenever she was around, she never could quite understand why I ‘dropped’ him, as she put it. Of course I was too ashamed to fill her in on all the extra details, like my catching him with old Fishpants Fraser, so she didn’t really get the gist of it at all. She’s probably at home right now, gleefully planning all manner of savoury vol-au-vents for our forthcoming nuptials.

George is still at the upstairs window, torn between trying not to piss himself laughing at my slapstick fall and looking absolutely horrified that I might actually be about to let Jake into his house.

Which, of course, I am. I mean I’m not stupid. I know I really shouldn’t forgive him. But I would quite like to hear what he’s got to say. And, I have to admit, there’s a tiny part of me that’s hoping he’s going to admit he made a mistake.

Of course if he does, I have no idea what I’ll do, but let’s just see, shall we?

I smile nervously at him and rummage for my key. As I do so, a sort of whooping scream comes from the upstairs window.

‘What are you doing, you ridiculous hag?’

‘Fuck off, George,’ I tell him shortly. ‘I’ll deal with this.’

And the truth is, I just can’t resist Jake. His twinkling green eyes are as mischievous as ever. To be honest, it would have been quite a coup if he’d lost some of his sparkle. If his emerald eyes had turned sludge green with the stress of losing me and then having to cope with a slutbucket girlfriend and her devil spawn. I mean, there’s nothing nicer than bumping into someone who’s dumped you and realising that you’ve come off better, is there?

I let him in. Smile at him as he smiles at me. Motion for him to take a seat in George’s immaculate white sitting room. Once he’s sat down, I realise I don’t have a clue what to do next, so I check my reflection in the Venetian glass mirror above the fireplace and am horrified to notice I look like a panda on smack. Great dark circles of eyeliner have slurred their way halfway down my cheeks and I look dreadful. My Damart-type outfit definitely isn’t helping. I might have thought to get my own clothes back before making a beeline for the exit.

Graham, fat ginger traitor that he is, jumps onto Jake’s knee, purring like an engine. Bugger. He shouldn’t be in here either. George will have a pink fit if he sees him.

‘Oh, Katie,’ Jake sighs, stroking between Graham’s ears so gently that I start wishing it was me on his lap and not the cat at all. ‘Isn’t life strange?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I just feel…’

‘Yes?’

‘I mean, don’t get me wrong…’

‘Go on.’ ‘I feel as though I’ve made a terrible mistake,’ he finishes eventually.

‘Oh.’

Is that re shagging Fishpants or losing me? I wonder.

‘I mean having a baby isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,’ he says. George, coming down the stairs, catches the tail end of the conversation.

‘I’ll take it if you like. How much do you want for it?’ he asks bluntly. ‘Unless it has 666 stamped across its forehead, of course.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘I can probably take the thing off your hands. Depending on facial features, of course. It’s not a fat one, is it?’

‘She’s fine,’ Jake says. ‘She’s beautiful, in fact. And she’s not that much trouble. I—I mean we certainly don’t want to sell her.’

‘Oh.’ George looks disappointed. ‘OK. Well, if you change your mind, you know where we are. Bye, darling.’ He kisses me on both cheeks, whispering as he does so, ‘Don’t do anything silly, darling. I don’t want the place reeking of muff when I come back.’

‘Where are you going?’ I run after him in a panic, suddenly not sure that I want to be left on my own with Jake.

‘Dinner with Mother. And get that ball of ginger fluff out of my drawing room before I get back.’

‘Can I come?’

‘No.’ George laughs. ‘You can sodding well stay here and sort out that fucking infidel. Make sure he’s gone by the time I get home. And don’t worry. I won’t forget your toffee.’