What If?

by Shari Low

  ‘I came looking for you, you know,’ he says.

  Now I’m even more confused. ‘What? When?’

  ‘About six months later. I remembered the name of the area you came from, so I went there, asked around and discovered you were working in a nightclub.’

  ‘Why didn’t you contact me?’ If a feather hits me, I’ll be on the floor.

  ‘I came to the club and I saw you there, but you were rushing around like crazy. At the end of the night, I came to talk to you, but you were in a tongue lock with a huge blond guy. I decided it would be a better idea to leave quietly.’

  He looks so dejected. Oh, give me a bolt of lightning! I am the most horrible person to walk this earth. I’ve no right to be here. No right to be dragging all this up again. Haven’t I done enough damage?

  ‘Joe, I am so sorry. I’ll get out of your way.’ I get up to leave, to look for a sewer to crawl into. He grabs my arm and pulls me back down.

  ‘You’re not getting off that easily, Cooper. I want to know what you’ve been doing since then. I want to know everything that happened to stop you coming back to me.’

  I see Carol in my head saying, ‘In for a penny, in for two pounds fifty.’

  ‘How long have you got?’

  He looks at his watch. ‘About, oh, a week. I’ve got a feeling I should make myself comfortable.’

  I admit that for a split second I consider being economical with the truth. But what’s the point? The look on his face says that he’s not exactly over the moon, but I don’t think he’s ready to have me tortured and mutilated either. No, he deserves the truth, so I tell him everything that happened up until I quit my life in London. I feel like I’m in a confessional. ‘Bless me, Father, for I have sinned, it’s been seventeen years since my last confession and I’m a complete trollop.’

  He interrupts me a couple of times for clarification, but otherwise just listens for the two hours it takes to spill all the gory details.

  ‘Want me to leave now?’ I ask when I’m done.

  He shakes his gorgeous bald head. Then smiles, almost sadly. ‘No. You see, in a fucked-up way I think it was meant to happen.’

  That surprises me. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, after you left, I made huge changes in my life and they’ve worked out for me.’

  ‘Don’t tell me, you’re married with six kids and spend Saturdays coaching the school soccer team.’

  He laughs. ‘Not quite, but you’re close.’

  I encourage him to tell me his story. Bad move.

  ‘After you left, I waited for you to call or return. I was convinced you would come back. How could you not? I thought we’d been so happy. But when you didn’t, then I began to worry that something terrible had happened to you, so I came looking.’ He gives a derisive sneer. I deserve it. ‘And of course, I see you with…’

  ‘Doug,’ I offer, completely unnecessarily.

  ‘Yes, you were trying to remove his fillings with your tongue.’

  Ouch.

  ‘So, I returned to Amsterdam and I worked. I lived every minute of the day in the clubs. I worked day and night and I partied. I never slept, drank too much and then I decided that I wanted to experiment a little, so I did.’

  Oh, bollocks! He was a druggie! So that’s what René was avoiding telling me. I can’t speak.

  He continues. ‘A year later, I met Claus and we opened a club together. We figured we’d capitalise on the growing gay scene and J.C’s Heaven has been full since the day we opened the doors.’ That didn’t seem like such a drastic change. Or had we not got to that bit yet?

  ‘And what about love? Don’t tell me there’s been nobody since me?’ Bloody hell – had I turned him celibate?

  ‘I’ve told you already.’

  ‘When?’ Had I missed something?

  He looks puzzled. Not as puzzled as I do, though.

  ‘When I introduced Claus as my partner, he’s not just my business partner, Cooper, he’s my life partner. That’s what I meant by “experimenting”. I experimented on the gay scene and discovered I belong there.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Holy fuck! I didn’t see that one coming. Astonishment sends a rush of blood to the brain and I feel a need to put my head between my knees. It takes me a couple of minutes to recover my power of thought and run it through my mind again. Joe is gay. My first reaction is that I’m pleased he has found a life that makes him happy, but there’s no getting away from the fact that this has blindsided me.

  Had I ever suspected he was gay? No. In hindsight, were there any tell-tale signs? No. Do I want to cry because it means that I’m definitely no longer his type? Yes.

  ‘Tell me, Joe, were you seeing guys when we were together?’

  ‘How can you ask that? You know I was faithful to you. I’m not denying I’d been curious for a long time, but I didn’t act on it until I met Claus.’ He looks hurt and angry at my question.

  I should have known better. Joe Cain is an honest man, he always was.

  My voice mellows. ‘Are you happy?’

  ‘Very. What Claus and I have got is special.’

  I reach over and touch his face. ‘Then I’m happy for you, Joe. I really am. I’m just sorry I hurt you and that things didn’t work out differently for us.’

  ‘Me too, Cooper.’

  We sit in silence, holding hands, for a few moments.

  ‘So what are your plans now?’

  I decide to tell him the rest of the story. The great ex-boyfriend manhunt. He thinks it’s hilarious.

  ‘Wait a minute, I was number two on the list? Can’t believe I wasn’t top,’ he teased.

  ‘I’m doing it in chronological order,’ I explain, giggling.

  Laughter is making his eyes crinkle in that way I always adored. ‘Thank God, that would have been a crushing blow to my ego. Who is next then?’

  ‘That big blond you saw me molesting in Glasgow.’

  He’s clutching his sides now. ‘Fantastic. I’d have been pissed off if you’d dumped me then rode off into the sunset with him. Anyway, he was more my type than yours.’

  I hit him with a garlic bread crust.

  ‘Where does he live?’

  ‘Manchester. I guess I’ll head there next.’

  ‘Don’t leave yet, Carly. Amsterdam is beautiful this time of year. Have a bit of a holiday – you can stay with Claus and me.’

  It’s an interesting offer. I could do with a couple of weeks in the sun. Some time to relax and chill out. More importantly, I want to rekindle a relationship with Joe. If I can’t have romance, then I’d really like friendship, and for him to be part of my life going forward.

  ‘Won’t Claus have a problem with that?’

  ‘Don’t worry about Claus, he’s a very secure guy. Besides, he knows that my clog is now firmly on the other foot.’

  It’s a deal.

  We return to J.C.’s Heaven and go up to the office. Claus looks relieved that we’re back. I go over and give him a kiss on the cheek.

  ‘Claus, since you’ve stolen my man, I think the least you can do is put me up for a couple of weeks and pamper me to death.’

  He glances at Joe, who nods his head and then he smiles lazily.

  ‘Okay, but only as long as you have our dinner on the table every night and clean the bathroom.’

  I think I’m going to like him.

  I sigh. ‘What a waste. I’m in a room with two gorgeous men and they’ve only got eyes for each other. I think I’ll have to take up knitting.’

  My two week stay stretches to three. Every morning, I make the guys breakfast, then we spend the days wandering through Vondelpark and up and down the canal banks. In the evenings, we have dinner, then the boys go off to the club. Sometimes I join them, sometimes I have an early night with a good book. I could get used to this. I’ve never felt so mellow in my whole life. Claus is an absolute darling. I can see what Joe sees in him. He’s strong and funny and caring and way too gifted in the looks depar
tment.

  I’m not even remotely sad that things didn’t work out with Joe, because the kind of love they’ve got gives me hope. My person is out there somewhere. And I’ve got a few more chances to find him.

  Eventually, I summon the energy to leave and call Kate to tell her to make up a bed for me.

  ‘Cooper! Well, what’s the scores on the doors?’

  ‘The ex-boyfriends two, Carly Cooper nil.’

  ‘Sarah told me what happened with Nick. But what about Joe? The girls are running a sweepstake and my money was on him. You just cost me a tenner and a day at a health spa.’

  ‘It’s a long story, Kate. Dust down a bottle of your finest plonk and I’ll fill you in at the weekend. I’m going to stay a couple of nights and then head to Manchester. How are Jess and Basil?’

  ‘Well, his broken jaw healed in time for the latest Hello! edition. He and his wife are on six pages, explaining that it was all a huge misunderstanding and how it’s brought them even closer together.’

  ‘Shit, Jess must be spitting.’

  ‘She’s not chuffed.’

  ‘And what about Carol?’

  ‘George sent her a Tiffany cross to apologise, so she’s got over it all in record time.’

  I laugh. That’s so Carol. There’s no wound that diamonds can’t heal.

  ‘I’ll see you on Sunday, Kate. Get the girls round too, the latest episode is priceless.’ Obviously Sarah wouldn’t be there because she was still in Glasgow, but we could phone her and fill her in on developments.

  ‘It can’t be too bad – you sound really happy.’

  I glance over at Joe and Claus, lying cuddled up on the sofa, looking utterly contented. If nothing else, I tell myself again, it’s restored my faith in love.

  ‘I am happy. But I’m still a woman on a mission. Roll on number three.’

  16

  Don’t Look Back In Anger – Oasis

  ‘You are joking!’ Kate screams, crossing her legs to ensure that her hysteria doesn’t bring on pregnancy incontinence. Her bump is definitely starting to show.

  We’re sitting in Kate’s dining room on a sunny Sunday morning. Once again, the aeroplane food on my flight from Amsterdam this morning looked like a botulism breeding experiment, so I’m devouring last night’s leftover apple crumble.

  Bruce and the kids have been dispatched to the swimming baths to make room for Carol, Jess and Callum, who’s dropped in to say his goodbyes before catching a flight to the States. He’s going to do a three month stint as the face of the new Donna Karan range. He’s got a tough life, my brother. Looking at him, it’s hard to see the family resemblance. Callum is perfection and I still look like an exploding loo brush.

  I’ve just got to the bit where Joe tells me he’s gay. Jess has gone pink, Carol looks like she needs a loo, and Kate’s yelling for a midwife. And I know they’re laughing at me, not with me, but I don’t blame them. My life is getting more like a bad sitcom every day.

  ‘Honestly,’ I continue, ‘they are so happy together. I’ve never seen a more contented couple.’

  ‘I think that one is a lost cause,’ Jess breathlessly states the obvious. ‘There’s still hope though. Although, you might want to do something with that hair because that isn’t winning anyone’s heart.’ They’re all laughing again.

  I decide to buy a wig first thing on Monday morning.

  Carol pipes up. ‘How is it that all the gorgeous, caring, sensitive, interesting men out there are gay? It’s a tragedy. No wonder there’re no men out there for us.’

  Callum fires a wicker place mat in her direction. ‘Not all of them. Last time I checked I was decidedly heterosexual.’

  ‘You don’t count, you’re family,’ she replies. ‘And anyway, I like a bit of mystery in a man. You have zero mystery. None.’

  That’ll be my brother put firmly in his place then. Callum’s petted lip reaches the floor. Jess gives him a cuddle.

  ‘Ignore her, Callum. She’s just pissed off because Clive cancelled her American Express card and George hasn’t given her a new one yet.’

  Carol yelps with indignation, but I’m saved from her ire, because Jess gets us back on track. ‘So what’s next, Miss Desperado?’ I ignore the dig.

  ‘Doug. Last I heard he was in Manchester, so I’m going to head up there tomorrow.’

  ‘He’s not in Manchester. He’s here in London,’ Callum throws in.

  I turn to him, astounded. ‘Since when is he in London? And how do you know?’

  ‘No idea when he came here – I lost touch with him when he moved to Manchester. But I met his mum last time I was home and she told me he runs a Mercedes garage in Wimbledon.’

  I can’t believe it. All these years, he’s been twenty miles away and I didn’t know about it. I decide to put Callum up for adoption.

  I suddenly get a good feeling. This one has started off so easy. I mean, no searching, no travelling, no fraudulent expenditure. This is too good to be true. And that can only mean one thing – it’s meant to be. I have an overwhelming feeling that Doug is going to be The One.

  Next morning, I dress with care. If I’m going to be a potential purchaser of a Mercedes, then I have to look the part. I settle on a charcoal grey trouser suit, black boots and a silver blouse. Chic, but not over the top. After relentless begging, grovelling and promises of a lifetime of favours, Carol allows me to borrow her black Prada bag. I don’t know whether to wear it or frame it.

  I call Joe before I leave and tell him that I feel like I’m about to play a championship match on centre court. My knees are like jelly and my mouth is drier than Kate’s apple crumble.

  ‘C’mon, Cooper. You’ll be fine. Just knock him dead with your sparkling wit and charm,’ he humours me.

  ‘I’m more worried about him knocking me dead. The way he feels about me, I’m likely to be under the wheels of a new Mercedes within five minutes.’

  ‘You’ll be fine, sweetheart. Claus and I are right behind you.’

  ‘Mmm. At a safe distance of hundreds of miles.’

  Joe laughs and the irony of this situation isn’t lost on me – my gay ex-boyfriend is trying to give me confidence to face the man I left him for in the first place. This could keep a therapist in fees for years.

  I call Sarah on my mobile as the taxi heads for Wimbledon. I had to hand back my work phone when I left my job, so I invested in a brand new Nokia. I feel very high tech.

  She sounds so bright and breezy, it’s a huge relief. Maybe the break in St Andrews reset things for her and she’s found her old optimism again. I hang up as I arrive at the garage.

  Okay, deep breaths. I can do this. I can do this.

  I’m so busy concentrating on my opening line that I forget to look where I’m going. Three seconds later, I’m lying sprawled on the floor after tripping over the welcome mat on the way in. I’m just glad I wore trousers, otherwise the world would have had a bird’s eye view of my tartan knickers.

  As I mentally check my limbs for broken bones, a hand takes my arm and pulls me up.

  ‘Are you okay?’ It’s male, it’s Scottish and before I even look up, I know it’s him.

  ‘I’m fine, I think, Doug. And you?’

  He stares at me for what seems like an hour but is probably about three and a half seconds. I do the top-to-toe scan. The blond hair is now short and swept back, the eyes even greener than I remembered. His body still looks like a Calvin Klein mannequin. He’s wearing a navy suit, the Versace buttons giving a clue to its origin and a gold tie over a white shirt. He is perfection. I don’t know whether to talk to him or just stare for a while longer.

  ‘You always did like to make a big entrance.’

  ‘Yes, well, there’s nothing like indoor gymnastics to get a girl noticed.’

  He doesn’t even smile and I feel a distinct frost forming around us.

  ‘What can I do for you, Carly?’

  ‘I’d, em, like a Mercedes.’

  He folds his arms and raises his
eyebrows. ‘Really, what model?’

  ‘Em, a kind of, well, one of those, em, blue ones.’

  He raises an eyebrow and I crumble.

  ‘Okay, Doug,’ I confess, ‘I don’t want a sodding car. Callum told me you worked here and I came to talk to you.’

  ‘Why? Running out of men to be unfaithful to?’

  Point taken.

  I turn to leave. There’s only so much humiliation I can take in one morning and this can only go downhill from here. A swift exit seems like a better plan.

  But, to my surprise, he puts out his arm to stop me.

  ‘Okay, Carly, we’ll go to the coffee bar across the road. You’ve got half an hour.’ Maybe that’s just how long it will take him to round up enough passers-by to witness my public flogging.

  A few minutes later, he’s sitting across the table, still staring at me. How do I start? Somehow, asking ‘how have you been’ seems totally insufficient.

  ‘First of all, I’m so sorry about what happened, Doug. I know I’ve got no right to ask you to forgive me.’ I am so crap at grovelling, but I keep it succinct. I know for sure there’s no point in rehashing it all. “I’m sorry I slept with Mark Barwick behind your back and crushed our plans for the future,” would just be twisting the knife.

  ‘Correct.’ At least he’s speaking. This could be a breakthrough.

  ‘Look, Doug, what else can I say? I was a pathetic, horrible cow and I don’t blame you for hating me, but I am sorry.’

  ‘Okay, so you’re sorry. What do you want now?’

  Since when was he so direct? This is the same guy who took five weeks to snog me. Has he been on an assertiveness course?

  ‘I guess I just wanted to see you. It’s been a long time.’

  The look on his face tells me that it hasn’t been long enough. Perhaps I should have waited another, oh, I don’t know, fifty years?

  ‘What happened next?’ Kate interrogates me when she arrives back from work.

  I tell her how it took half an hour before he would even utter a whole sentence, and then another half hour before he deigned to enter into a proper conversation. He finally returned to the garage two hours, eight coffees (ours), a chocolate fudge cake (mine) and two paracetamol (also mine) later.