Out with Gorgeous Greg

Right! Where do I start? Where do I start? This has been one of the most mind-blowing evenings of my whole life. OK, let’s start at the very beginning.
When I got in from school, Belle, our French au pair was busy in the kitchen with my baby sisters. They were having a fine old time, chasing slices of banana round their dishes, squishing them and prodding them and generally making sure they were well dead before they slimed them round their faces. Eating them seemed to be a bonus. Belle was laughing at them. She’s come on a lot. When she first arrived, the slightest bit of baby mess nearly made her faint. Now she can really mix it with the muck makers. Worse, when she first came, I hated her guts – and I suspect she hated mine. But we’re OK with each other now – in fact, we get on really well. She’s leaving in a few weeks because she’s starting uni back in France – and I guess we’ll have to start all over again, breaking in a new au pair. I’ll miss Belle. I’ve learnt quite a lot from her and she can be a really good laugh. Today, she offered to make me a cup of tea.
‘I hear you have a new job,’ she said.
‘Well,’I said, taking the mug, ‘I’m going to try it out. It’s dog-walking – but they’re big dogs and valuable. I need to make sure I can do it properly.’
‘Of course you can,’ said Belle. ‘They belong to Greg’s mum, don’t they? They are well trained.’
‘Yeh…yeh…they are…’ I muttered. I could feel myself blushing. This was awful – blushing just at the sound of Greg’s name.
Belle’s eyes laughed at me over the top of her own mug. ‘Soooo….’ she said. ‘We still like Greg.’
I blustered. ‘Of course I do!’ I said. ‘I’ve always liked him. I just don’t fancy him, that’s all – but he seems to fancy me – well, sometimes…’ My voice tailed off. Even I wasn’t convinced.
‘So what about Chas?’ said Belle. ‘Still best friends?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Of course!’
‘But nothing more?’
I sighed. ‘Oh, I don’t know, Belle,’ I said. ‘I don’t think either of us knows quite what we feel. We’ve been close for so long now – but it just doesn’t feel quite right when we…you know…’ I looked at her plaintively, hoping she would understand.
Belle laughed. ‘Make out?’ she said. ‘Snog?’
I nodded. ‘The thing is,’ I said, ‘one of us always pulls back. We kiss and then we just stop. It’s all over ever so quickly. And I don’t know why. It’s not that I’m not enjoying it. Maybe I think Chas isn’t. Maybe I’m worried that we’ll go too far. I just don’t know.’
‘Well I don’t know,’ said Belle. ‘You’re so good, Kate. You think about all these things. You think about whether what you do is right. You pray to God. Me – well, I just have fun!’
‘You make me sound like a geek!’ I protested. ‘Like one of the God Squad! But I do have fun – lots of it! I just – well, I just want to get this right with Chas. It’s really important.’
‘So what about Greg?’ Belle said, fielding a bit of banana that skidded across the table. ‘Where does he fit in?’
I found myself blushing again. ‘Well, tonight he’s walking the dogs with me,’ I said. ‘Do you think that’s OK?’
Belle raised her eyebrows. ‘More than OK!’ she said. ‘Sounds like fun! Does Chas know?’
‘Oh yes – I checked it out with him.’
‘And he’s OK with it?’
‘Yes.’
Belle shrugged. ‘English guys are weird,’ she said. ‘All that – what do you call it? – stiff upper lip? Never showing the emotions. A French guy would never stand for that. He would show his passion. He would be jealous of his rival.’
‘Yes, but Chas isn’t like that,’ I said. ‘And anyway, we’re not properly going out.’
Belle sighed. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘you certainly seem to do a lot of staying in. But if he’s OK with it – well, I’d make it not OK. If I really wanted him. I’d go and have fun with Greg. Make him want me more. He is – what is it called? – taking you for granted.’
‘Belle, you are outrageous,’ I said. ‘I shouldn’t listen to you.’
But I had done. I did.

When I arrived at the kennels that Greg’s parents own, his mum came out to meet me. She had two huge dogs on leads with her.
‘Hello, Kate,’ she said. ‘I’m so glad it’s you that’s applied for this job. At least I know you a little and that you’re kind and respectful with dogs.’
I tried not to laugh. I’ve always been kind to our dog, Rover, but if Greg’s mum could have heard some of the things I’ve thought about him, she’d review that bit about respect!
‘Anyway, tonight I want to start you off with Fairport and Darcy. They’re our dogs - Newfoundlands of course – so I know they’re well-trained and obedient. I like to take them out myself but we’re getting so busy with the kennels and the bigger dogs need a long walk at some stage in the day. The little ones can manage with a good romp in the field. Once you’ve got used to it, I’ll try you with some of the dogs from the kennels – but I don’t want you to have problems with behaviour just at first.’
‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘I’ll do my best.’
At that moment, Greg came out of the house, his own two Newfoundlands, Chloe and Biggles, bounding after him. He smiled cheerily. I looked away, embarrassed.
‘Hi Kate,’ he said. ‘Mum, is it OK if I go with Kate? I have to take Chloe and Biggles out anyway.’
His mum frowned a little. ‘I really wanted Kate to see how she got on by herself,’ she said. ‘Can’t you go later?’
‘Oh Mum,’ moaned Greg. ‘If I promise not to interfere, can I go? If I promise to just stand back and let them molest small children, kill rabbits and cause road accidents?’
He was smiling his most winning smile. I could see his mum wasn’t proof against it and, sure enough, she gave in.
‘Oh, all right then,’ she said. ‘Kate, I’m trusting you – if he starts to interfere, you let me know, all right?’
I smiled. ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘And I’ll let you know if he misbehaves too.’
It took me about three seconds to realise what I’d just said and I wanted to die. How, how, how could I have said anything quite so suggestive?
‘Right,’ I said, bending over Fairport, pretending to check her lead to cover my flaming cheeks. ‘Let’s go then, OK?’
‘Fine by me,’ said Greg, only too obviously amused by my embarrassment.
‘Oh Greg – just a moment,’ said his mum. ‘Seeing as you’re going too, can you drop a couple of letters in the postbox, please?’
‘Mum, that’s right out of our way,’ said Greg, clearly annoyed. ‘I was going to head out into the fields.’
‘Well, do that another night,’ said his mum. ‘The dogs’ll be just as happy with the park.’
‘Yes, but I might not be,’ Greg muttered. Even so, we waited for the letters. There are all sorts of things that I’m not sure I like about Greg – but at least he’s not foul to his mum like some boys are. Of course, I’m foul to my mum sometimes – but that’s different. It’s horrible when you see other people doing it.

We chatted very happily as we walked down the lane towards the shops and the park. I rather liked the way people turned to look at the four enormous, beautiful dogs in our charge. I felt very proud of the way they all walked nicely to heel, even though it’s no thanks to me! It made me want to ask lots of questions about the training and the care and what’s required for competitions and Greg managed to make it all sound remarkably interesting. Then we got onto school and exams and what we might do in year 12 and all that sort of normal stuff and then Greg asked about my family and that kept us going for ages. I realised that I was really enjoying myself. I felt relaxed and happy and it was fun to find out more about Greg. I’ve always been so wary around him and so conscious of how fit he is, that I’ve always been too tense to talk at any length with him. It was only as we were leaving the park that he suddenly put me back in the place I thought we’d left behind ages ago.
‘Oh Kate,’ he said. ‘You are great, you know. If ever you get fed up with Chas, you know where I am, OK?’
I nearly choked. It was shock that made me say what I said next. ‘What makes you think Chas and I are together?’ I gasped. ‘If we were, do you think I’d be here now – with you?’
‘You mean you and Chas aren’t an item?’ Greg looked startled.
Suddenly I realised I was getting into deep water. ‘Err…well…yes and no,’ I said.
‘Yes and no?’ said Greg. ‘What does that mean?’
I pulled a face. Now look at the hole I’d dug myself into! ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Let’s not talk about it, OK?’
Greg shrugged. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘But I don’t get it.’
No, I sighed to myself. Neither do I. Neither. Do. I.
It was then that I saw the couple coming out of the chip shop, a tall, lean, dark –haired boy and a willowy, girl with long blonde hair, bleached by the sun. I would know the boy anywhere, of course. Chas. I couldn’t be mistaken. But the girl? Who was she? I couldn’t remember seeing her ever before in my life. I was going to call out – but then I stopped myself. Just what was going on here? Just what was Chas up to?
As I stared at the two of them, laughing over the chips they were sharing, Chas suddenly gave the girl a quick squeeze. Just an arm round the shoulders – ever so quick – nothing more than that. But it still gave me a jolt. Who was she? Why didn’t I know about her? Where had she come from?
I was standing stock-still. Greg could hardly avoid noticing what had caught my attention. He let out a low whistle.
‘Well,’ he said. ‘News to you then, Kate?’
To my undying shame – I’m cringing now as I write this – I began to cry. Not huge racking sobs. Just my eyes filling and overspilling and a bit of a snuffle. I really tried to hold back. I really didn’t want Greg to see how upset I was. But that was impossible.
‘I don’t have a tissue, I’m afraid,’ he said and, as if that was any sort of excuse, he leaned forward and kissed my cheeks where they were wet.
Well, I don’t know if you’ve tried snogging someone while you’re holding two dog leads and they’re holding two dog leads. It’s a bit of a challenge, I can tell you. But we managed it. And it was so not like snogging Chas. I don’t want to say quite how – but it was so not. Maybe it was because Greg was so – what? – enthusiastic. But I didn’t want him to stop and I didn’t even think about pulling back. It was just about the most exciting thing I can ever remember happening to me. We had to stop in the end because Chloe began to paw at Greg’s leg. And so we walked back to Greg’s place hardly speaking. And when I said goodbye, Greg just looked at me and mouthed ‘I’ll ring.’ I nodded and walked home in a daze and, I’m not joking, this has completely done my head in. I am so confused – really, really confused. I can’t wait for Greg to phone. But I’d still like to know exactly who that girl is that was eating chips with Chas.

Not the green-eyed monster!

I hummed and haa-ed about it for ages. I nearly rang Vicky – but I just knew what she would say. She’s really anti-Greg. She thinks he’s a slimy, manipulative, opportunistic Casanova who thinks he’s God’s gift to womankind – and the gift is as toxic as Snow White’s apple – and that’s on a good day.
‘But he was very kind when Gran died,’ I’ll say. ‘And he was really nice to me at his party.’
‘Only because he wanted to get inside your bra,’ Vicky insists. ‘Any boy’ll be nice when that’s a possibility. It’s called grooming, kiddo!’
She is so crude sometimes – and cynical. Why does it always have to be about sex when we’re thinking about boys? They must be motivated by something else sometimes – surely? Just being friendly and considerate, for example? Is that such an outrageous idea? I’ve heard people say that boys think about sex every two minutes. Just how is that possible? I mean, there you’d be, doing some complicated Maths calculation and half-way through it you’d completely lose track! On second thoughts, girls do consistently get better results at school than boys – maybe that’s why. And the world is in a terrible mess and it tends to be run by men. Actually, this theory could explain a lot. Depressing though, isn’t it? That so many big decisions might be the result of blokes thinking about boobs rather than bombs.
Anyway…to get back to Greg. In the end, at about half-past eleven, I texted Chas.

Are you awake? Need to talk, I wrote.

Half a minute later, my phone rang.
‘What’s up?’ said Chas. ‘I was just about to turn off the light.’
He didn’t sound at his most receptive but I’d disturbed him then and I knew if I didn’t talk to someone about it, I’d just lie awake and worry.
I explained.
‘So?’ said Chas. ‘What’s the problem?’
Maybe I was over-tired. Maybe I was annoyed that after all that worrying, he was taking it so calmly, as if it was nothing to be worried about at all. Maybe I wanted him to be jealous rather than completely OK with me going for a walk with Greg. Whatever. I wasn’t pleased. In fact, I felt like he’d just kicked me in the stomach.
‘Don’t you care?’ I said (well, squeaked actually, if we’re being brutally honest).
‘Care? How d’you mean?’
It was too embarrassing and difficult to say. How could I explain that, given our relationship, I kind of expected him to make slightly more fuss about me going dog-walking with a guy who had been (and maybe still was) one of his competitors? If he suddenly did the same with Cute Carly (his ex-girlfriend) I'd be really suspicious – even if it was for a job. That just made me feel so mean and petty that I couldn’t say anything at all for a moment. But then maybe I’d read all sorts of things into our relationship that weren’t there. I mean, all we’ve done is snog – and not even that very much. We spend a lot of time together – I mean, he’s my best friend, has been for ages now – but whenever we start getting physical, it never lasts very long. I see people at school or at the cinema sometimes and you’d think they were having a three-course meal, the way it goes on and on and on. But we don’t. It’s a quick fling and then one or other of us stops or makes an excuse. If it’s me, it’s because…well, frankly, it’s because I’m scared, actually. I don’t know quite what’s coming next and I’m not sure I want to go there at the moment. Well, I want to – but I’m not sure it’s right. I don’t know why Chas stops. Maybe he doesn’t really fancy me – maybe he’s just experimenting a bit. I mean, according to Vicky, once a boy starts, he’s almost impossible to stop. It’s like a launch at Cape Canaveral. And maybe the fact that he doesn’t seem to care about he going dog-walking with Greg proves he doesn’t fancy me.
Ouch! I’m sitting here, staring at this screen and I’m trying not to cry. I finished the conversation with Chas pretty quickly.
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘So that’s all right then. You think it’s OK for me to go.’
‘Yeh – course. He’s not going to rape you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I know he’s a bit of a player but he’s OK.’
‘No – I didn’t think that. I just thought with him – well, you know – he did want me to go out with him…’ I trailed off, lamely. Chas just didn’t get it, obviously.
‘Kate, you need the job,’ said Chas. He sounded exasperated. ‘If he gets fresh with you, just tell him where to get off. Anyway, you’ll be a bit safer going with him, than just on your own.’
‘Safer?’ I said. ‘I’ll be with at least two huge dogs!’
‘Whatever,’ said Chas. ‘I’m trying to make you feel OK about, all right? And I’m tired.’
‘Oh, OK,’ I said, in a small voice. ‘Thanks very much. Night night.’
‘Night night,’ said Chas. And that was that.
Doesn’t exactly sound passionate about me, does he? Not exactly keen to defend my honour or fight off all bids for my attention. And I thought we had something special going on – something beyond friendship. The trouble is, I do get jealous so easily. When he snogged Lisa, this cow in our year group who gives me a really hard time because she so fancies Chas, I was terribly jealous. And when I thought he fancied our au pair, Belle. And when he was going out with Cute Carly. But he just doesn’t seem to do jealousy. I can’t understand it. If you care about someone, surely you get jealous? Surely the fact that he doesn’t, means he doesn’t care? Or not much?
Sigh! He once said that whatever’s going on for him and whoever he fancies, he’s never really happy if he’s rowed with me – and I took that to mean so much. But maybe I read far too much into it. I mean, I’d be unhappy if I’d rowed with Vicky and I’m certainly not in love with her. Oh well. At least I know what I’m doing tomorrow. Going dog-walking with Greg. Sorted.