What If?. Shari Low
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joined my mum and I at the table. He immediately registered the general displeasure radiating from my mum and had the whole situation sussed in ten seconds.
‘Mrs Cooper, I’m Joe Cain. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’
Mum gave him a look that would freeze hell, but Joe just kept on going, at his charming best.
‘You must be really proud of your daughter.’
Proud? What was he up to? My mum looked like she was about to develop an ulcer the size of Orkney and he was saying she should be proud.
‘And what exactly should I be proud of, Mr Cain?’
‘Of Carly. She’s done great since she got here. I think it’s so commendable that she’s over here, working hard whilst developing her language skills and cultural education.’
‘Really?’ I couldn’t tell if her tone was sarcastic, disbelieving or mellowing.
‘Why yes, Mrs Cooper. Her Dutch and French are coming along great and she spends her whole life in the museums and galleries here. It’s invaluable experience for a girl of her age.’ He grinned at me.
What in God’s name was he on about? The only French and Dutch I spoke was ‘good evening’ and ‘goodbye’. And the only time I went near a museum was to sit on the steps outside on a sunny day to top up my tan.
Stop, Joe, stop, I silently willed him.
But my mum was definitely softening. She had relaxed her shoulders and was almost smiling.
He continued. ‘And as for her work here, well, you can see that this is a very respectable club and Carly has worked so hard that we’ve decided to promote her to assistant manager.’
WHAT? Had he been taking the kind of drugs that were strictly banned from the premises? This was all news to me. I mean, sure, I loved my job and was always ready to work extra hours and stay late. And yes, I’d taken to organising the staff and doing the weekly orders. But promotion? I wanted to kiss him.
When Fred and Ginger returned from the dance floor, Mum introduced them to Joe. Within ten minutes, he’d won them over, using charm on my gran and a free bar tab on my dad.
He sat with us for the rest of the evening, even persuading my mum to dance a couple of times. He was outstanding and at some point my heart did a somersault and I started to see him in a whole new light.
We finally left at 3 a.m., everyone a little drunk (or a lot, in my dad’s case) and very happy. Joe walked us to the door and insisted that we let him take us to lunch the following day.
‘That would be just lovely, Joe,’ my mum agreed amiably. ‘I’m looking forward to it already.’ It was my turn now to scrape my jaw off the floor. I’d never seen her look so… I struggled to pinpoint it, before realising with shock that she was relaxed.
Joe winked at me and I blew him a kiss. He was spectacular.
The next day, lunch in the conservatory of the American Hotel was followed by a tour of the Van Gogh Gallery, where I pretended I’d been there many times before, and then dinner in the Krasnapolski. Joe gave me another night off and for once he didn’t go to work either. He couldn’t have been more attentive to my family or to me for that matter. What was going on? And why had my heart started thundering the minute he walked into a room?
My mum and gran sat down to breakfast with me on their final day. Dad was upstairs nursing his daily hangover.
‘Carly, your dad and I have been talking and it seems that you’ve done well for yourself here. We would have no right to force you to come home and I’m sorry I underestimated you. I was only concerned because we want you to be safe. I hope you know that.’
‘I do, Mum,’ I said, not sure I could believe what I was hearing. Sweet Jesus, it was a miracle. ‘But I’m happy here and I don’t want to leave.’
Gran spoke up. ‘That’s okay, Carly, ma darling. We understand. If I had a friend like your Mr Cain, I wouldn’t want to leave either, pet. He certainly loves you.’
He does? Whoa. Since when? How come I didn’t know this? Surely it was all a big act to save me from the wrath of the mighty Cooper clan?
I was still dazed as I saw them off in a cab to the airport. My parents weren’t big on displays of affection, but my granny wrapped me in a bear hug. ‘Have a ball, pet,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Right enough, that doesn’t leave much.’ With a cheeky cackle, and pursed lips from my mother, they were off and strangely, I was sad to see them go.
‘Get yourself together, Cooper,’ I told myself as I got ready for work that evening. I couldn’t believe it, I was nervous. Or excited. Or something that was definitely making me shake as I applied my mascara.
I went to the club early, hoping Joe would be there. He was. I tentatively knocked on his office door.
‘Come in,’ he shouted.
I entered slowly, trying my best to smile but only managing a demented grimace.
‘Hi. I just wanted to thank you for being so great with my parents. You didn’t have to do that and it was really nice of you. Don’t worry, I know you just said all that stuff about a promotion to get my mum off my case, so I’m not expecting anything. I want to pay you back for all the money you spent on us and I’ll make up the extra night off this week.’ My brain was screaming at me to stop talking, but my mouth was on Mission Babble.
He sat back in his big leather chair, a languid grin on his face.
‘Number one, it was no problem – your folks are nice people. Number two, the promotion is genuine – I was going to tell you later in the week. Number three, I don’t want you to pay me back – I enjoyed myself. Number four, you don’t have to make up any time – you do so many extra hours that you’re owed a few days off.’
I was stunned. Even more surprising, I was experiencing something other than just a thudding heart now.
‘Joe, can I ask you something?’ Oh no. My gob was running away with itself and my brain was desperately trying to apply the brakes.
‘Sure.’
‘Can I kiss you?’ Brake fail. Screech. Crash.
‘Sure.’ He laughed as he stood up and leaned over the desk, turning his head to one side and proffering his cheek.
I reached up slowly and touched his chin, turning his face as I did, so that his eyes met mine. I brushed my lips against his once, then again, then I launched an all-out assault, stopping only for breath when I began to turn a mild shade of pink. This was shocking. Crazy. And absolutely bloody wonderful. But what was wrong with me that my attraction to men seemed to come out of nowhere and ambush me? It had been the same with Nick Russo in that Benidorm bar, and now Joe had gone from my lovely boss to intoxicatingly attractive in the space of a couple of days.
‘I think we need to talk,’ he whispered, panic in his voice. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
‘But what about the club?’
‘It’s quiet out there. Chad can look after it tonight,’ he insisted.
He grabbed his jacket and my hand and pulled me outside. We walked silently for what seemed like miles, before stopping at an ancient wooden bench on the edge of one of the canals. I waited for him to say something, too terrified to speak in case I had this all wrong. Was he going to give me a lecture about how he was the boss and couldn’t fraternise with the staff? Was he going to fire me? Did snogging the boss constitute gross misconduct? Or was he just going to say that I was incredibly stupid, pat me on the head and tell me to keep my tongue well away from his tonsils in future?
Eventually he spoke. ‘I’ve wanted to kiss you for such a long time.’
Phew!