Heaven Can Wait Read online

  Sounds like a plan, he typed. There’s a nice little eatery round the corner that does tapas and beer. Fancy it?

  Sounds good. Meet you outside.

  *

  The tapas bar was busy, but it was cool and light and the menu looked delicious. Better than that, Archie and I managed to secure a table near the back of the restaurant, away from the prying eyes of any Computer Bitz boys who might walk by.

  ‘So,’ Archie said, holding out my chair and tucking me in, ‘what do you fancy?’

  ‘Anything tasty.’

  ‘Well, there’s plenty of that here,’ he said. ‘And, by the way, lunch is on me. Choose whatever you’d like. If it wasn’t for you, I would have had another night in last night.’

  ‘And instead, you had a night out with me, your grandmother and a roomful of desperate women.’

  Archie grinned. ‘Well, you have to start somewhere.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘For suggesting lunch. I really needed this.’

  We browsed the menu, finally deciding on a potato dish, an olive dish, little pieces of salami, a mini-omelette and a big basket of bread. The waiter brought us a bottle of Spanish beer each, with a lime jammed into the top, and returned fifteen minutes later with a tray laden with dishes. He spread them on the table between us before hurrying off.

  ‘So,’ I said, dipping a chunk of bread into a dish of olive oil and balsamic vinegar, ‘what do you think went wrong last night?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Archie said, looking puzzled. ‘I thought it was going well. I actually talked quite a lot.’

  I pushed the lime into my beer bottle and took a sip. ‘What did you talk to the girls about?’

  ‘Well, most of them asked me what my job was, and what my hobbies were, so I told them.’

  I stared at him with alarm. ‘You told them about LAN parties?’

  ‘That and Star Wars. I’ve got all the original 1970s action figures you know, and they’re all in their original boxes.’

  I stared at him, open-mouthed, then started to laugh. It was either that or cry.

  ‘I’ll have you know that they’re worth a lot of money on the open market,’ Archie mumbled, stabbing a potato with his fork.

  ‘Oh, Archie,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just, well, it’s just not a topic girls are likely to get excited by.’

  ‘That’s not my fault.’

  He was right. It wasn’t his fault. He genuinely didn’t have a clue.

  ‘So what kind of questions did you ask the girls?’ I asked.

  ‘I didn’t. It took three minutes to tell them about the different types of Darth Vadar figures I’ve …’ He tailed off, looking dejected.

  ‘Oh, Archie.’

  He slumped in his seat and tossed the piece of bread he’d been nibbling on at his plate. ‘I screwed up, didn’t I? I was only trying to be polite and answer their questions.’

  ‘It’s OK, Archie,’ I said, patting his hand, ‘never mind.’

  ‘So, what about you?’ he asked miserably. ‘I bet loads of guys wanted to date you.’

  ‘There wasn’t anyone there for me.’

  Archie looked crestfallen. ‘Oh.’

  ‘I mean, obviously I ticked you as a friend but, other than that, no one.’

  ‘You ticked friend?’ he said, brightening a little. ‘So, in your esteemed opinion, how might one go about persuading women that they want to date you, rather than be friends with them?’

  I nibbled on my bottom lip. ‘Could I be totally honest with you?’

  ‘Of course. Be as honest as possible. I need all the help I can get.’

  ‘Well, you could start by getting your hair cut and having a shave.’

  ‘Do you really think that would do it?’ he asked, pulling at his beard thoughtfully.

  ‘That, and a clothes make-over.’

  Archie looked down at his ‘Gamer’ T-shirt and stroked the logo. ‘But I love this T-shirt.’

  ‘Well, if you’re not serious about this …’

  ‘I am. I am. So when is this miraculous make-over going to happen?’

  I looked at my watch. It was five past two. Even if we hurried, we’d still be late back from lunch.

  ‘Let’s ring Graham,’ I said, ‘and tell him we developed food poisoning.’

  Archie’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline. ‘Skive work? I’ve never done that before.’

  ‘There’s a first time for everything,’ I grinned. ‘Give me your phone and I’ll ring Graham. Archibald Humphreys-Smythe, prepare to become a super-hunk.’

  Chapter Twenty-four

  ‘Can I help you?’ the receptionist asked, looking us up and down. He was dressed all in black and had scarily cool hair; long at the back, streaked red at the front and feathery layers at the sides. ‘Hairdresser hair’, Dan and I used to call it, the kind of style that only the truly trendy can get away with. On anyone else it would be a mullet, and a particularly ugly one at that.

  ‘My friend would like a haircut and a shave,’ I said as Archie looked from me to the hairdresser and back, a look of terror on his face. ‘Do you have any free appointments now?’

  ‘Michael’s free,’ the receptionist said, flicking through the book. ‘Name?’

  ‘Archie.’

  He waved us away. ‘OK, take a seat. Michael will be with you in a moment.’

  We sat, side-by-side, in chairs near the door as the receptionist disappeared off into the back of the shop.

  ‘Lucy,’ Archie whispered, perching on the very edge of his seat and tapping the toes of his trainers on the floor. ‘You don’t want me to have hair like him, do you?’

  I laughed. ‘Absolutely not.’

  ‘So no red streaks then?’

  ‘No streaks at all. Just something a bit shorter at the back and sides, maybe a bit messy-ruffled-spiky at the front.’

  ‘Lucy, ‘ Archie said, staring at the door. ‘Can we go for a drink instead? There’s something I’d like to talk to you—’

  ‘How about something like this?’ I suggested, plucking a magazine from the glass table in front of us and pointing to a very good-looking male model with exactly the kind of hairstyle I’d described. It was modern, it was short and, on the model, it was unbelievably sexy.

  ‘Do you think it would suit me?’ Archie asked uncertainly, twisting his long hair in his fingers as he stared at the picture.

  I leaned back in my chair and looked at him, blurring my eyes. It was hard to imagine how he’d look with short hair, but the model’s hairstyle would definitely be an improvement on what passed for his current hairstyle.

  ‘I think you’d look great,’ I said. ‘Promise.’

  ‘OK.’ He looked me straight in the eye. ‘If you think it’ll look good, Lucy, I’m sure I’ll like it too.’

  ‘Here,’ I said, tossing him another magazine. ‘Read this and try to chill out. And stop trying to get out of it. We can go for a drink when we’re done.’

  Ten minutes later, Michael, a tall, skinny man with blonde, layered hair down to his shoulders, finally appeared. Archie was so jittery my chair was vibrating.

  ‘Hello,’ he squeaked, half-rising and holding out a limp hand as the man approached us. ‘I’m Archibald.’

  ‘What can I do for you today?’ the hairdresser replied, ignoring the outstretched hand and instead rubbing a lock of Archie’s hair between his thumb and finger. He raised an eyebrow at me. ‘Have you seen these split ends?’

  ‘I’d like my haircut to look like this,’ Archie said, jerking his head away and pointing at the magazine, ‘and I’d like my beard shaved off too please.’

  Michael grinned at me and ran a hand through his own, perfectly groomed, hair. ‘Girlfriend giving you a bit of a make-over, is she?’

  ‘She’s my friend,’ Archie corrected, the back of his neck turning red.

  ‘Is she now?’ The hairdresser winked at me. ‘OK, Archie, let’s see what we can do.’

  I tore the mag
azine from Archie’s sweaty palms as he stood up and sloped after Michael to the sinks at the far end of the shop where an assistant promptly took over. She dressed him in a black robe, tucked a towel around his shoulders and gestured for him to sit back in the chair with his head over the sink. Archie clutched the chair arms and shut his eyes as she turned on the taps and bent over him. Anyone would have thought he was about to be electrocuted, not have his hair washed and conditioned.

  I picked up a magazine, feeling just the teeniest bit guilty. Archie was obviously nervous, but it wasn’t as though I was forcing him to have a make-over; he’d jumped at the suggestion. He wanted to meet someone and I was just helping him along. That was all.

  When I looked up from the article I’d been reading, Archie had been transferred to a chair in front of one of the enormous mirrors opposite me, and Michael was combing his hair. It looked even longer when it was wet, and slithered down his back like black seaweed. Michael said something I couldn’t hear, then gathered the wet hair into a ponytail and reached for his scissors. Archie glanced at me in the mirror, his eyes wide.

  ‘It’ll be OK,’ I mouthed. ‘I promise.’

  Michael’s scissors sliced through Archie’s hair and a long, wet lock dropped to the floor. I looked away, too chicken to acknowledge the look of fear in Archie’s eyes. When I glanced back up, Michael had already shaped the hair at the back of his neck and around his ears and was snipping away at the top. I smiled at Archie in the mirror. Even with the beard, he already looked loads better.

  ‘It looks great,’ I mouthed, and Archie smiled.

  Half an hour later, trimmed, shaved and shaped, Michael span Archie round in his chair.

  ‘Well?’ he said. ‘What does Madam think?’

  I couldn’t stop grinning. ‘Archie, you look amazing!’ I said, resisting the urge to give his new haircut and shave a round of applause.

  ‘Sure?’ Archie said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking at me from under his eyebrows.

  ‘You look great,’ I said.

  He really did. He looked younger with the long hair and beard gone; really fresh-faced and cute. He was a different man. A much, much cleaner, better-looking man.

  After he’d paid, Archie shuffled towards me, head down. ‘Are you sure you like it, Lucy?’

  ‘I love it,’ I said, standing up and patting him on the shoulder, ‘and other women will, too. I guarantee it.’

  Instead of looking pleased, he shoved his hands into his pockets and sighed. ‘Can we go for that drink now, Lucy? Please? I really need to talk to—’

  ‘Later,’ I said, ushering him through the door. ‘We need to go shopping first.’

  ‘Shopping,’ he said. ‘Great.’

  It took us hours to find Archie a couple of new outfits. Because he was so short and slim, all the trousers I picked out either dragged on the floor or bagged round his bum and his thighs. I’d only ever chosen clothes for Dan before and, to be honest, I had no idea how to dress someone who was so much shorter. Archie put up a bit of a fight too. He refused to wear a fantastic salmon-pink shirt I’d picked out and described the designer jeans I’d chosen as ‘tragic’. After an hour spent traipsing from rack to rack (while Archie moaned that everything was ugly and his feet were hurting), we decided to split up and comb the store separately. He returned with an armful of faded, pale-blue jeans and ugly, bright T-shirts and I’d gathered smart trousers and tailored shirts. We looked at each other’s offerings and laughed. We couldn’t have picked out more different outfits if we’d tried.

  In the end we reached a compromise – tailored combat-style trousers and long-sleeved T-shirts layered under regular T-shirts (with no crappy gamer logos on the front).

  ‘Well?’ Archie said, stepping out from behind the changing room curtain for the fifteenth time. ‘How about this?’

  ‘You look great,’ I said. ‘Really, really great.’

  I meant it too. He really did look good. The layered tops made him look less skinny and the trousers and boots made his legs look longer and chunkier.

  ‘Hooray,’ he said as he disappeared back behind the curtain. ‘Can we go for a drink now, Lucy. Please?’

  ‘Fine,’ I grinned, delighted with the result of my first ever make-over. ‘Anything to shut you up.’

  The trendy wine bar Archie suggested wasn’t really my kind of place but I didn’t put up a fight. We were celebrating my marvellous, magical make-over and it was the least I could do to thank him for being such a good sport about it all. I grabbed a table while Archie went to the bar and a few minutes later he returned with a large glass of wine for me and a pint of bitter for himself. I raised an eyebrow at the fact he wasn’t drinking a half, but said nothing. Celebration called for more booze than normal, everyone knew that.

  Archie sat down heavily in his chair and gulped at his drink while I stared at him, open-mouthed. He looked so different, like a completely new man.

  He caught me looking and peered at me over the rim of his pint. ‘Good?’

  ‘You look great.’

  ‘So, do you think women would want to date me, looking like this?’

  ‘Oh God, yes.’

  ‘I’m glad you joined Computer Bitz,’ he said, setting his pint back down and picking up a beer mat.

  ‘Me too,’ I gushed. ‘Although, I wasn’t sure I was going to get the job, not after what happened with Graham Wellington during my interview.’

  ‘I’m sorry you had to go through that,’ he said, his grin slipping a little. ‘Graham’s a little eccentric, to say the least, and he takes some getting used to. He’s not a bad person at heart, he’s just …’

  ‘… a bit of a perve?’

  Archie laughed. ‘You don’t know the half of it.’

  ‘What I don’t get,’ I said, taking a sip of my wine, ‘is why he’d employ me after I slapped him? He said someone had threatened to report him to the Equal Opportunities Commission, but I can’t imagine anyone at Computer Bitz doing that.’

  ‘I did,’ Archie said softly, ripping the top layer off the bar mat and scrunching it into a ball.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘No way! You threatened to report him?’

  ‘Yes. There’s only so much Graham should be allowed to get away with and anyway, you seemed nice.’

  ‘I am nice,’ I said, pretending to polish my halo. ‘I’m the nicest person you’ll ever meet. Ask anyone, ask …’ Archie was sitting up in his seat, staring into the mirror behind me, ruffling his hair. ‘Ask … ’ He was totally destroying the messy, yet sculpted, look the hairdresser had created.

  ‘Are you sure you like your new hair?’ I asked, feeling confused. Hadn’t he just got excited about the fact his new hairstyle made him more date-able? Wasn’t that why he was drinking a full pint? To celebrate?

  ‘I’ll get used to it, I suppose.’ He shrugged and flattened his hair trying, and failing, to brush it forward over his eyes.

  ‘At least your gran will like it,’ I joked, trying to lighten the mood. ‘I’m sure she’ll think you look like a very smart young man.’

  Archie didn’t laugh. Instead, he looked down and continued to rip at the beer mat, tearing it into tiny little pieces. I’d never seen anyone look so uncomfortable and self-conscious.

  ‘You didn’t really want to get your hair cut and your beard shaved off, did you?’ I said, feeling a bit sick.

  There was a pause that seemed to last for ever. Finally, Archie spoke. ‘Not really.’

  ‘Then why did you?’

  ‘Because you thought it would be a good idea.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘And because I love spending time with you.’ He swallowed hard. ‘And because … because …’

  ‘Because?’ I said, my mouth suddenly dry.

  He covered his face with his hands and I held my breath.

  ‘Because I’ve fallen in love with you,’ he said.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  I froze, the win
e glass pressed against my bottom lip. Had Archie just said what I thought he’d said? He couldn’t have.

  ‘Sorry, Archie, what did you just say?’

  ‘I said … ‘ He cleared his throat. ‘I think I’m in love with you, Lucy.’

  My stomach knotted so tightly I felt physically sick. Archie wasn’t supposed to fall in love with me. I was supposed to find him his soulmate. He wasn’t … couldn’t … be in love with me. My wine glass trembled as I set it back on the table.

  ‘Are you … you …’ I forced a smile. ‘You’re joking, right?’

  Archie shook his head, his eyes fixed on the pile of shredded beer mat in front of him, his expression pure misery. He couldn’t be in love with me. He just couldn’t.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled, his cheeks scarlet. ‘I just couldn’t keep it to myself any longer. I felt like I was going to burst. I ticked ‘date’ on the speed-dating thing, but when you didn’t say anything about that this morning I just had to tell you, no matter how you might feel about me and’ – he paused for breath – ‘from your reaction, I can tell you don’t feel the same way …’ He hung his head, but now there was no long hair to fall into his face to mask the look in his eyes.

  Something inside me cracked, and I felt like crying. This wasn’t what I’d wanted. I’d wanted to build up Archie’s confidence so he could find the right woman. The right woman, not me. I was trying to find my way back to Dan. Had I gone about my task the wrong way? Had I got too close to Archie? Given him the wrong signals?

  ‘Archie,’ I said, touching him on the elbow. ‘Archie, look at me.’

  ‘I can’t,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything. I’ve made a total fool of myself.’

  ‘You haven’t.’

  ‘I have.’

  ‘Archie,’ I said desperately, ‘you can’t be in love with me. We’re friends.’

  ‘I thought we were more than that,’ he mumbled. ‘Even Nige said he thought you were, er, how did he put it? Unusually interested in me.’

  Oh God. How stupid was I? Of course he’d think I was interested in him. I’d pretended to be into LAN parties, chatted to him over lunch and stared at him at work. I’d even invited him out, to a speed-dating party admittedly, but if you looked at it impartially, I’d made all the first moves. I’d even taken an interest in the way he looked and given him a make-over. No wonder he was confused.