Love at First Fight

by Mary Jayne Baker

  It was early evening when Bridie knocked at the door of Ben’s flat with a folder under her arm. She’d suggested meeting at his place rather than the pub, where there were no witnesses to misinterpret the situation if Ben started playing his usual games.

  ‘All right, let’s get this over with,’ she said when Ben opened up. She frowned as she took in his outfit of baggy grey sweatpants and oversized hoodie. ‘Bloody hell, what’s up with you?’

  Ben shrugged. ‘Last time I checked, you weren’t my girlfriend. I don’t need to dress up to impress you, do I?’

  She blinked. ‘All right. Never said you did. Can I come in then?’

  ‘Suppose you’d better. The sooner you come in, the sooner you can go again.’

  Bridie followed him to the kitchen, feeling puzzled. Usually when she saw Ben, he had some sort of quip for her: a tease or a taunt, a bit of fake flirting. Not that she’d ever admit it, but she’d been looking forward to doing battle with him tonight. Why was he being so abrupt? He seemed genuinely pissed off with her.

  In the kitchen he sat down at the dining table, not bothering to offer her a seat.

  ‘All right, let’s get on with it,’ he said, his usual laughing tone missing entirely.

  ‘Not going to offer me a cuppa?’ Bridie asked.

  ‘If you want one, you know where the kettle is.’

  She frowned as she took a seat. ‘Don’t think I’ll bother, thanks. What the hell’s wrong with you today?’

  He scowled down at the table. ‘Nothing. Why would there be anything wrong? I’m fine.’

  ‘Ben, you’re dressed like you live in a bus shelter and you’re snapping at me like I just ate your pet hamster for a between-meals snack.’ She took a worried look at the purple semi-circles under his eyes. ‘Seriously, are you all right? You look really tired.’

  ‘I’m tired of this fucking wedding. Can we just get this done please?’

  ‘OK.’ She opened her folder and paused. ‘Sure there’s nothing else wrong? You’re not acting like yourself.’

  ‘Maybe I am. Maybe this is the real me.’ He looked with little interest at her folder. ‘Have you got quotes from the coach hire companies then?’

  ‘Here.’ She pushed some of the papers across the table to him. ‘Did you book the hotel?’

  ‘Yes. Ten twin rooms and a single.’

  ‘We’d better keep boys and girls separate when we draw up the room-sharing list.’ She quirked an eyebrow. ‘I mean, if your libido can cope with an entire night of no sex?’

  Normally that would elicit some sort of jibe in return, and Bridie waited hopefully for a response, but Ben just shrugged.

  ‘I’ll manage,’ he said.

  She summoned a smile. ‘Seriously, mate, no comeback?’

  ‘Not today. Not in the mood for it.’

  ‘Ben, are you sure you’re OK? This isn’t like you.’

  ‘It is though.’ He rubbed his fingers through unkempt hair. ‘Sorry, Bride, but when you get right down to it I’m just a grumpy, slobby bloke with questionable personal hygiene and a sex addiction, like every twat I’ve heard you whinging about after another crap date. You were right, I’m the last man any woman in her right mind would want to go out with. So… now you know.’

  ‘When did I say no one wanted to go out with you?’

  ‘Maybe you didn’t. It’s what you think though, right?’

  There was silence for a moment as Bridie regarded him curiously.

  ‘Ben, I think I’m going to go,’ she said quietly. ‘I don’t know what’s going on with you today, but it’s clear you’d rather I wasn’t here. The quotes are all there: just text me when you’ve had a look at them.’

  She stood to leave. Ben had lowered his head, his eyes tight closed, but he opened them when he heard her chair scrape back.

  ‘Bridie, wait,’ he said in a softer voice. ‘Look, I didn’t mean to upset you. If I was rude, I’m sorry. It’s… it’s for your own good, that’s all. I can’t do it, all right? Maybe there’s a part of me that… but I’m not that guy. I couldn’t ever be him, not even if I wanted to.’

  Bridie shook her head, feeling more bemused by the second. ‘What are you burbling about, Ben? You’re scaring me.’

  ‘Sorry.’ He closed his eyes again. ‘Sorry. I was just trying to… actually, I think I might be coming down with something. You’re right, you should go.’

  ‘Right.’ She turned to leave, then hesitated and turned back. ‘Coming down with what?’

  ‘Dunno. Just something.’

  ‘Well, do you need me to get you anything?’

  ‘I just need rest. Rest and to be left alone.’

  ‘But if it’s a fever, you shouldn’t be on your own. Let me call your mum, or Cal. Or I could stay, I guess, if no one else can come sit with you.’

  ‘Bridie, I’ll be fine. Please, just… just go.’

  ‘All right.’ She hesitated again. ‘Are you sure though? I’m worried about you.’

  His mouth flickered. ‘Are you?’

  ‘Well, yeah. I mean, if you’re ill.’

  Ben sighed and stood up to rest his hands on her shoulders.

  ‘You’re a great girl, you know that?’ he said quietly.

  She turned to look at the hands on her shoulders. ‘Wow. You really are ill.’

  He gave a hollow laugh. ‘You have no idea.’

  ‘What do you think it is? Flu? You must be delirious if you’re paying me compliments. Do you want me to bring you over some Beechams?’

  ‘No, not flu. This is… something else.’ Ben gave another strange little laugh. ‘Funny really. I always thought I was immune.’

  ‘OK,’ she said, blinking. ‘Does it feel like a fever?’

  ‘A bit like that.’ He bowed his head. ‘I mean, no. There’s no temperature.’

  ‘All the same, I think you ought to go to bed. Do you need me to help you to your room?’

  ‘I’ll be OK.’ He smiled. ‘You, offering to put me to bed. I’m supposed to make some sort of crack about that, right?’

  Bridie smiled too, pleased to see a glimmer of his usual personality. ‘Well, save it for me until you’re better.’

  ‘I will.’ Ben planted a soft kiss on her cheek, then blinked, looking puzzled. ‘Sorry. Not sure why I did that. Bye then, Bridie.’

  ‘Right. Um, bye.’ Feeling bewildered, Bridie headed for the door.

  Thirteen

  ‘God, this is like waiting for Sting to orgasm,’ Bridie muttered as, with her fellow Duke of Edinburgh volunteers-slash-chumps, she stood next to her huge rucksack by the coach that was going to be taking them to the starting point of the training expedition. ‘Where the hell’s Duxbury? I’m getting soaked through here.’

  It was a typical British summer day in July: grey, drizzly and cold.

  ‘Yeah, where has your cousin got to?’ Hattie asked Ursula. ‘I thought we were supposed to be getting checked for contraband before the kids arrive.’

  ‘He’s talking to the trek leader in the staffroom, I think,’ Ursula said. ‘Probably telling him what a bunch of useless reprobates we all are.’

  ‘Have you got your shampoo, Bride?’ Meg asked.

  ‘Yep. Five bottles. You?’

  ‘Six. I, er, brought extra conditioner.’

  ‘How long until the kids get here?’ Adrian asked.

  Bridie glanced at her watch. ‘They ought to start turning up in fifteen minutes. I wish Duxbury would get a bloody move on and do this inspection he insisted we get here early for.’

  The head teacher soon appeared, looking even more pompous than usual. He was in an oversized purple walking jacket and woollen socks pulled up to the middle of his calves, with a pompom hat sticking straight up on his bald head.

  ‘Right,’ he said, clapping his hands. ‘Get those rucksacks open, ladies and gent. I want to make sure we’re all abiding by the rules before the kiddies arrive. Leading by example and all that.’

  Bridie shot a look at Hattie before op
ening hers up for him to rummage through.

  ‘It’s nothing that isn’t on the kit list,’ she told Duxbury as he poked about. ‘Lightweight trousers, thermal vest, three pairs of knickers, towel, walking socks and a torch, plus a mess tin, cutlery, first aid kit, wash stuff and all that. Hat’s got our tent.’

  Duxbury drew out a bottle of shampoo. Then another. And another. And another and…

  ‘Bugger me,’ he muttered. ‘How often were you planning on washing your hair, Ms Morgan?’

  ‘Oh no, you see, I need all those.’ She picked up one bottle. ‘See, this one’s for dry hair – I use that on my ends. And this one, for greasy hair, I use on the roots. Then I have to use the colour treatment serum for my highlights, and of course the special argan oil conditioner—’

  ‘All right, all right, I get the picture. Pack it up again then.’

  He moved on to Meg, who’d already started arranging her shampoo bottles in a row for him.

  ‘Do all women need this many different shampoos?’ Duxbury asked her.

  ‘Well, that depends. The bald ones probably only need two or three.’

  ‘Right.’ He blinked at them in puzzlement, then moved on to Ursula, who’d made a little pile of her clothes next to a single, industrial-sized two-litre bottle of shampoo.

  ‘Only the one for you?’ he said.

  ‘Yes, but I need a lot of it. You see, I get terrible dandruff if I don’t use big dollops of this medicated stuff—’

  ‘All right, I don’t need to know any more about feminine hair-cleansing rituals. Put it away again, please.’

  He moved down the line to Adrian, who immediately started pulling out his own selection of shampoo bottles.

  Duxbury shook his head. ‘Surely not you too, Mr Verges.’

  He shrugged. ‘I’m a metrosexual modern man, boss. Is it a crime to want to be salon-smooth?’

  ‘OK, well, pack it away. I hope the extra weight is going to be worth it when we’re carrying all this over miles of rolling countryside.’

  ‘Oh God, it’ll be worth it,’ Hattie muttered. She summoned a smile as Duxbury looked at her. ‘Er, for the benefit of having glossy, fragrant hair, I mean.’

  ‘Ah.’ Duxbury nodded towards the man striding in their direction from the school. ‘Here’s Mr Kemp, the walk leader, to introduce himself before the children start arriving.’

  ‘Oh, no.’ Bridie stared at the broad figure heading their way, then spun to face Hattie. ‘No! Not him.’

  Hattie shrugged. ‘Hey, I’m as surprised as you are, Bride. It’s no good looking at me like it’s my fault. I didn’t book the thing, did I?’

  ‘Friend of yours?’ Duxbury asked.

  Bridie folded her arms. ‘Absolutely not.’

  ‘He’s my fiancé’s brother,’ Hattie informed him. ‘He and Bridie have… history.’

  Bridie put up her hand. ‘Sir, may I please be excused? I’m not feeling well. I don’t think I can go actually, now I come to think of it.’

  Hattie grabbed her arm and pushed it down. ‘Oh no you don’t. All for one and one for all, remember? Besides, you’re the only one with any… jojoba shampoo. Don’t forget you promised to share it with all of us.’

  Bridie glared at Ben as he reached them. ‘Kemp. Want to explain what you’re doing on my trip?’

  ‘Bridie.’ Ben looked taken aback. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I work here, don’t I? Don’t pretend you didn’t know I was coming.’

  ‘Why would I? I mean, you’re lazy as fuck and you hate the outside world. You’re the last person I’d expect to see on a hiking expedition.’

  ‘Oh yeah, a likely story. I take it you’ve recovered from your man flu then.’

  ‘It wasn’t man flu.’ Ben reached up to rub his hair, looking awkward. ‘So, um… how’ve you been then, love? All right?’

  She frowned. ‘What, do we do pleasantries now? Usually you just insult me.’

  ‘Well, I… I never meant to be bad-mannered. I mean, I’d hate to ever upset you or hurt your feelings or… anything like that. I hope you know that, Bridie.’ He met her gaze then immediately dropped eye contact, grimacing as he rubbed his hair again.

  Bridie snorted. ‘You’d hate to hurt my feelings? Since when?’ She turned to Hattie. ‘What’s he being weird for? Is he still ill?’

  ‘He’s being nice, Bride.’

  ‘For him, that is weird.’

  Duxbury clapped his hands again. ‘All right, I can see mums and dads pulling in. Get on the coach while I do inspection, everyone. I hope you know some good community songs – we’re going to be on this thing for at least the next two hours.’

  ‘Oh God,’ Bridie groaned as they climbed aboard.

  The kids they were taking on the expedition were all Year 12s, sixteen and seventeen years old, and certainly old enough to give them a few headaches when it came to policing the sleeping arrangements later. But while they were mature enough to be sexually active – or at least, aspiring to be – they weren’t above acting like primary-schoolers on the coach. By the time the group arrived at their destination, the adults on the trip had broken up two snogging couples, one headlock and a snot-flicking fight, but had been entirely unable to quash the rousing chorus of ‘Stop the Bus I Need a Wee-wee!’ that broke out after the first half-hour – and continued for the next two.

  ‘Well that was hell,’ Ben muttered to Bridie as they got off the coach. ‘Is this what kids are like then?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Why do people have them?’

  ‘Contraception malfunctions mostly, I think.’

  He rested a hand on her arm. ‘Bridie, look… can we talk? Later, I mean.’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m really not happy about you being here for this, Ben. The least you can do is try to stay out of my way for the duration.’

  ‘Please. This is important. I’ve been thinking about it ever since… for ages.’

  ‘Thinking about what?’

  Before Ben could elaborate any further, they were interrupted by Duxbury.

  ‘All right, Mr Kemp, the children are ready for you,’ he said, gesturing to the kids waiting expectantly in front of the coach.

  ‘Er, right.’ Ben cast a last look at Bridie before going to address the group of students.

  ‘OK, you lot,’ he said, clapping his hands together briskly. ‘I’ll be your instructor for this expedition so feel free to ask me anything you want. I’m not a teacher so we don’t need any of that “mister” or “sir” stuff. You can just call me Ben.’

  He grinned broadly at them and Bridie noticed a couple of the girls flush, nudging each other and giggling. She rolled her eyes.

  ‘First of all, can you get into pairs?’ Ben said. ‘You’ll be sharing the OS maps and compasses one between two.’

  After the kids were paired up, Ben handed out the equipment and gave them a talk about safety on the moors, care for the environment, techniques for walking long distances with minimal discomfort and other things they might need to know. He was good with them actually, striking just the right note between matey nonchalance and authoritative leadership. Already they were looking at him with liking and respect – and lust, in the case of some of the girls and at least one of the lads. Bridie felt annoyed that this was something else he was apparently good at with no effort at all.

  After Ben’s talk he guided kids and teachers through some stretches to loosen their muscles, then they shouldered their giant rucksacks and set off. Bridie was expecting Ben to take the lead, but he hung back, letting the kids go ahead.

  ‘Aren’t you supposed to be up front showing them the way?’ she asked as he fell into step beside her.

  ‘They’re supposed to find their own way, that’s the whole point. I’m just here in an advisory capacity, and to help them out if they get stuck.’ He tapped Josh Abercrombie, who was walking beside them with his partner, on the shoulder. ‘Strides shorter and faster, lad. You want to finish your day’s walking at the
same pace as when you set off. Better for your muscles.’

  ‘Right. Cheers, Ben.’ Josh regulated his pace accordingly and he and his partner soon caught up with the pair in front of them, leaving Bridie and Ben to bring up the rear.

  ‘Look, Bride,’ he said when they were alone. ‘Sorry about last time I saw you. If I was weird.’

  Ben Kemp, apologising to her for being weird. That was even weirder than the original weirdness. What was going on with him? Last time Bridie had seen him, it felt like he could hardly bear to look at her. Today, he couldn’t seem to stop staring at her. She’d noticed the inscrutable glances he kept flinging in her direction all through the coach trip.

  ‘Well, you were ill, I suppose,’ she conceded graciously.

  ‘Yeah. I was. And hey, thanks for checking up on me.’

  Bridie flushed as she remembered the text she’d sent to make sure he was OK. ‘Just wanted to make sure you hadn’t passed out on the floor or anything.’

  ‘More than I deserved after the way I snapped at you.’ He nudged her. ‘Remember when we were doing this?’

  Bridie couldn’t help a small smile. Yes, she well remembered the first weekend she’d spent walking the fells with Ben and the rest of their D of E group in sixth form. Ben was the whole reason she’d signed up. As he’d truthfully pointed out, she really wasn’t the outdoors type, much preferring to stay warm and cosy indoors than face the elements out in open countryside. Only the mammoth crush she’d had on him at seventeen could’ve convinced her that all that time spent trudging through mud was worth it. And it had paid off too – it was on the weekend of their training expedition that their friendship had first become more, when they’d started their not-quite-relationship one night in his tent with a cheeky grope under their sleeping bags.

  ‘I remember,’ she said. ‘You were a cocky, insufferable little git that weekend, swaggering about flirting with everyone. Not a girl on the trip was safe from you.’

  ‘That’s not how I remember it. I only remember one girl not being safe from me.’ He glanced at the kids. ‘I hope this lot are better behaved than we used to be.’