‘Ah,’ I said. ‘Things got out of hand. Even a bit messy.’
‘Oh, and does the mess have a name?’ Tilda arched an eyebrow, holding her bacon and egg bagel close to her mouth.
‘Kyle. He was in my tutor group at uni.’ I could use his name with impunity, as I happened to know he was doing postgraduate work in the US, so was unlikely to turn up in town. Jess knew him vaguely, and knew we’d had a mildly flirtatious vibe, so it hadn’t exactly astounded her.
‘Oh, really? And are you going to see him again?’
‘Doubt it,’ I said airily. ‘He’ll be on his way to Heathrow right now. He’s working in Boston – just came back for a family do.’
‘Oh, God, Ella, you’re hopeless,’ sighed Tilda. ‘So it was a one-night stand?’
‘Well, unless you know of a way for us to shag without the Atlantic getting in the way, I guess so. Don’t look like that. I’m fine. I knew the score. Fun times, no regrets.’
But I did have regrets. I regretted having to lie to her.
‘Miles’s starting to think he must have three heads or something,’ she remarked.
‘Hasn’t Jess made her move yet then?’ I asked, welcoming this perfect deflection.
‘Jess?’
‘Didn’t I tell you? She fancies him.’
‘No way!’
And so the conversation unfurled, conveniently distant from my real preoccupations, until my inbox pinged and I noted from the corner of my eye that Katie had replied to my message.
‘Who’s that?’ Tilda asked as I perused it. ‘Lover boy?’
‘No, a friend from home,’ I lied, my eyes skittering over the screen. ‘She’s in town tomorrow, wants to meet for a drink.’
There was my cover for the Valmont dungeon shenanigans. Really, I was a bit dismayed at how quickly I’d fallen into the habit of fibbing.
‘Right.’ Tilda whipped out her own phone and began texting, leaving me free to take in Katie’s words on a deeper level.
Hi, Ellie, omg, you lucky thing! Maria doesn’t make offers like that to just anyone. Take her up on it! Honestly, she is brilliant and knows exactly what she’s doing. I promise she won’t do a thing you aren’t comfortable with. Let me know if you want more specific advice. K xxx.
I drew a breath. It would be OK. Maria wasn’t about to lock me into a chastity device and whip me on a St Andrew’s Cross – two of Mia’s more outlandish adventures. It was going to be a gentle, convivial night of sado-masochism, after all.
All the same, I’d be lying if I claimed I wasn’t nervous as I prepared for our dungeon date after work on the Tuesday in question.
I’d texted Katie to ask what I should wear, but she had no suggestions beyond ‘Anything you like’, so I went for a black T-shirt dress and stripy socks that went to mid-thigh. Flat shoes to avoid any further ankle incidents and my long black coat for warmth. My real concern was what to wear underneath all this. Would it remain concealed, or was there the chance of exposure? After much deliberation, I chose plain black cotton knickers and bra, which seemed the combo likely to draw the least comment, if it came to it.
The plan was to meet Tom in the Valmont bar for a quick spot of liquid fortification before asking for Maria at Reception, but, when I got there, he was nowhere to be seen.
My anxiety rose to the base of my throat. What if he didn’t show? What if I was going to have to do this alone?
I tried to call him, but it went straight to voicemail.
A text then. Where are you? I’m at Valmont. Shall I get you a drink in?
But fifteen minutes later I’d had no reply, and I’d already whizzed through one of the Turkish Delight cocktails. If I had another, I’d be both tipsy and broke.
I got up and started wandering around, looking into the restaurant and on the patio, but there was no sign of him there either. I sat down on a chintzy sofa in the lobby and pretended to read the perfectly ironed copy of the paper I worked for, deciding to take my mind off things by making sure I hadn’t let any typos through the net today. But the front-page story, about a stormy council meeting in which one member had sworn at another, had Tom’s byline and that little headshot of him looking suave and serious, and I had to turn quickly to the crossword.
I was puzzling over six down when I heard Maria’s unmistakable voice floating into the lobby from somewhere nearby.
‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I suppose somebody forgot to put your name in the booking log. It happens.’