‘Explained what? I barely even remember it so you’re wasting your breath. And I do not flounce.’ She picked up the shampoo bottle again and took a defiant gulp of vodka.
‘I think we both know you remember it perfectly well,’ he said gently. ‘Can I tell you what happened?’
‘I know what happened, I was there. Which makes one of us.’ She pressed her eyes closed. ‘You knew it was going to be my first time. You knew what a big deal it was for me to have it with… with you. And then you weren’t even there. You didn’t turn up, you didn’t call to tell me why, and you never, ever apologised. I mean, how the fuck can you explain something like that?’
‘Is that it? Are you done?’
She went on as if she hadn’t heard him, ten years’ worth of resentment and hurt spilling out of her now the floodgates were open at last. ‘Jesus, Ben, I’d even bought sexy pants. I had an Ann Summers red lace bra and thong set and a packet of Pete’s best ribbed-for-her-pleasure johnnies from the ladies’ loos in the Garter. It cost me all I had saved from my Saturday job and…’ she swallowed hard ‘…and it was also the single most humiliating, devastating experience of my entire life.’
‘You know, for someone who barely remembers it, that’s a lot of detail.’
She turned to him, the film of tears over her eyes making them glow red in the firelight. ‘Do you know who I actually lost my virginity to? Some chinless wonder at university whose name I can’t remember and who never even bothered to call me afterwards. I was so drunk I didn’t know what was going on. I wanted it to be special – I wanted it to be with you. And instead it was… a mess. Like every date and relationship I’ve had since. It was you, Ben. You were the one who jinxed me.’
‘Bridie, I’m sorry. If I’d known that was how you’d been feeling, all this time…’ He hesitated before stretching an arm around her. ‘I feel awful about it. I really want to apologise, and to explain if you’ll let me.’
‘Huh. Explain. I’d love to know what you think you can say that’s going to make it all OK again.’ She pushed his arm away from her.
‘I was a virgin too,’ he said quietly. ‘Just like you.’
She frowned. ‘What? No you weren’t.’
‘I was, Bridie. I’d never been with a girl before. It was bullshit, all of it – teenage bragging, the sort lads that age excel at. I had a reputation I never earned and I worked hard to hang on to it, because when you’re a kid that’s the sort of thing that puts you right at the top of the food chain. I never told anyone, least of all you.’
She shook her head. ‘No. That can’t be true. Louise Marsh told me she’d shagged you after GCSEs.’
‘Well, Louise had a reputation of her own to uphold. Everything back then was done through Chinese whispers. I didn’t sleep with her, or with anyone until after I’d left school.’
‘So… why?’ She turned those big, wet eyes up to him again, and he fought against the urge to take her in his arms and kiss the tears away. ‘You didn’t want to lose it with me. Is that it? You wanted to hold out for someone special?’
‘Now come on, does that sound like me?’ He caught the look in her eye and dropped the teasing tone. ‘You were special to me, Bridie. I pretended you weren’t and it was just mates messing about, like I pretended I had a lot of experience. The truth was, I really liked you. A lot. That’s why I never showed up that night.’
She frowned. ‘You really liked me so you stood me up for a date and turned me down for sex? Wow, Ben.’
‘I was terrified, that’s why. Scared shitless I’d get it totally wrong with the fittest, sexiest, funniest girl I’d ever known. And being a teenage boy, instead of facing up to it like a man I ran away and hid from it, head firmly thrust into the sand. God’s honest truth, that was what happened.’
‘But… why not just tell me that? You think I’d have cared you had no experience?’
He sighed. ‘I meant to. Not to confess – I was far too embarrassed for that – but at least to apologise for standing you up. I was trying to get my nerve up to talk to you about it when everything kicked off at home – I mean, with my dad. It wasn’t long afterwards that Mum found out what he’d been up to and slung him out. And then… then we’d both gone off to uni and I’d missed my chance. I’m sorry, Bridie.’
Bridie was silent for a moment, frowning.
‘Why not tell me after though?’ she asked. ‘You’ve had years to put it right.’
‘I was ashamed. Worried you’d laugh at me,’ Ben murmured. ‘I genuinely thought you’d forgotten all about it. You never mentioned it.’
‘Well, no. I told you, it was the single most humiliating experience of my life. I thought if you knew how much you’d hurt me, you’d just use it as ammo.’
He shook his head. ‘That’s not fair, Bridie. I know I tease you but I’m not cruel, am I?’
‘No. Just annoying.’ She gazed into the fire, watching the flames lick around the big log blazing in the centre. ‘I wish you’d told me before.’
‘I should have. I’m sorry.’
She looked up at him. ‘Why now, Ben?’
‘I just… it’s been on my mind.’ He met her eyes. ‘So now you know everything, are we proper friends?’
‘Well, I don’t know. Maybe. I need time to think about it.’
‘And… there isn’t anything you want to tell me, is there?’
She frowned. ‘Like what?’
‘Well, sort of anything you might want me to know. About how you feel or… anything.’
‘Not that I’m aware of, no.’
‘Are you sure? Because I wouldn’t… I opened up to you because I trust you, Bridie. You can do the same. It’s OK, really.’ He reached out to tilt her chin up so he was looking into her eyes. ‘I think you might be surprised by my answer.’
‘This is… strange,’ she murmured. She gazed into his face, her brow knitting into a puzzled frown, as if there was something in his features she couldn’t quite place. ‘What does it remind me of?’
‘I don’t know, what does it remind you of?’
‘I’m… not sure.’
He ran a finger over her cheek. ‘Tell me what you’re feeling, Bridie,’ he whispered. ‘I need to hear it from you.’
‘Honestly, I don’t know what you mean.’ She stared into the crackling fire for a moment, then seemed to rouse herself. ‘I’d better go to bed. We have to be up early. Thanks again for the tent, Ben.’
He looked up at her as she stood to go. ‘And do you forgive me? I’m sorry, genuinely.’
She hesitated.
‘I don’t know,’ she said at last. ‘It hurt a lot, for a long time. Like I said, I need time to think about it.’
‘I never meant to break your heart.’
She snorted. ‘Oh right, I bet you’d love to believe that.’ But she softened when she saw the earnest expression on his face. ‘No, you’re right. It did feel… devastating, at the time. I don’t know if I can forgive you just like that, but… well, it means a lot that you apologised finally.’
‘I’m sorry it wasn’t sooner.’
‘Me too.’ She turned to go, paused, then turned back. ‘Ben?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Happy birthday, eh?’
Bridie had been snuggled into her sleeping bag for an hour, but she couldn’t fall asleep. Her brain was too preoccupied with thoughts of Ben and what he’d told her.
So there had been an answer to the mystery of The Great Sixth-Form Leavers’ Ball Jilting after all. Ben Kemp, the biggest slapper in their year with a reputation almost as huge as his ego, had had no more experience with girls at eighteen than she’d had with boys. She could scarcely believe it.
And… he had liked her. Liked her as more than just a friend who happened to come with a convenient pair of boobs attached. God, if she’d only known all this before! For years she’d let that night colour her love life, her view of men; everything. Her view of men like Ben in particular – or what she’d thought were men li
ke Ben.
But today, he’d seemed… different. Warmer, kinder, genuinely solicitous for her comfort and good opinion. There’d been no teasing that wasn’t affectionate and good-natured, no sparring, no sarcasm, no barbs of wit at her expense; not even when she’d goaded him. He was the Ben of old again – the boy she’d fancied rotten back at school – and in spite of their history, she’d felt herself softening towards him.
She pulled the sleeping bag higher. It was chilly in the one-man tent with no other human bodies to keep her warm. Bridie was sure she was going to wake up with an icicle dangling from the end of her nose, like in the old Tom and Jerry cartoons or that bit at the end of The Shining. And if it was cold in here, Ben must be shivering like a jelly sleeping out by the fire – which was probably by now no more than a glowing ember.
The trekking tent was designed to be as compact as possible but it was just about big enough to accommodate another person, if they didn’t mind sleeping on their side, sardine-style, and forgoing all sense of personal space.
Bridie closed her eyes and counted a few sheep, trying to ignore the voice of conscience in her head. But it was no good. Sighing, she shuffled out of her sleeping bag, put on her crocs and went to find Ben.
When she emerged, an ostentatious sunset was bathing the moors in lilac and yellow. Ben lay awake by what was left of the fire, taking in the spectacular sight through the slit in his bright orange bivvy bag. Bridie approached and poked him with her foot.
‘All right, come on,’ she whispered.
He blinked. ‘Why, where am I going?’
‘There’s room for you in the tent if you don’t mind squashing right up. No funny business, OK?’
‘Are you sure?’
‘No, but I can’t have your frozen corpse on my conscience. It’ll upset Hattie and Cal if you drop dead right before the wedding. Up you get.’
He shuffled out of his bag, slung it over his arm and followed her inside the tent.
‘Don’t touch me, all right?’ she whispered as she watched him extract his sleeping bag from the waterproof outer layer of his bivvy bag.
‘I’ll have to touch you a bit, Bride. There isn’t space to keep my hands completely to myself.’
‘Well, OK. But no touching any of the important bits.’
He smiled. ‘That’s not what you said on our Duke of Edinburgh.’
‘That was then. This is now. And you’d better be out of here by the time the kids wake up too.’
‘OK. And hey, thanks for rescuing me. It was bloody freezing out there.’
‘Well. I couldn’t let you catch hypothermia on your birthday, could I?’ she said, with just the hint of a smile. ‘Why didn’t you tell anyone it was today?’
‘There’s just something about twenty-nine I can’t help finding a bit depressing,’ he said, sighing.
‘I know what you mean.’
‘How come you knew? I thought you’d have forgotten the date years ago.’
She shrugged. ‘Saw it on Facebook.’
‘You couldn’t have. I took it off my profile a while back.’
‘Well, then I guess… it just stuck in my head,’ she said, feeling her cheeks pinken. ‘It’s no big deal. I’ve got an amazing memory for dates.’
Ben smiled. ‘OK.’
When they were both cocooned in their bags, he spooned into her back and flung one arm over her.
‘We don’t have to cuddle, do we?’ she whispered.
‘We do in a one-man trekking tent. Anyway, it’ll help if we share body heat.’
‘Well, just watch the boobs, that’s all.’
‘Always.’
Bridie could feel his hot breath on the back of her neck. Half unconsciously, she shuffled back a bit so her body was pressed more closely against his. For the warmth, naturally. Nothing more than that.
Already she could feel herself drifting towards sleep. The comfort of another body against hers seemed to have a lulling effect, convincing her inner primordial cave-lady that it was now safe to drop defences.
‘Night then,’ Ben whispered, his mouth close to her ear. ‘Thanks again for this. As birthday presents go, I’ve had worse.’
‘That’s OK.’ Her eyes felt heavy, and she snuggled more tightly against him. ‘Ben?’
‘Sorry, Bride. I promise, that’s completely involuntary.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake.’ She glanced over her shoulder to look at him. ‘That night at the leavers’ ball…’
‘What about it?’
‘Was that a date? Did you ask me to go with you because you wanted me to be your girlfriend, officially?’
‘Course I did. I told you, I really liked you. More than liked you. I wish I’d had the guts to tell you that back then.’
‘I liked you too.’ She fell silent for a moment. ‘Long time ago, eh?’
‘Very long time ago.’
‘Yeah. I guess so. Night, Ben.’
‘Goodnight, Bridie.’
Sixteen
Cal was rummaging around in his loft looking for the spare two-man tent Ben had asked for when a message from Joanna popped up.
How are you feeling, babes? I bet the wedding nerves are kicking in now! x
He threw the tent he’d been looking for down through the hatch then picked up his phone to reply.
Bloody terrified! That’s normal, right?
No good asking me ;-p BTW I’m round your way tonight. You still fancy meeting up? I’m dying to meet Hattie x
Hat’s away this weekend, Cal messaged back. She’ll be back Sunday though.
No good, I’m only here till tomorrow x
Well, I’m free this evening if you’re happy to make do with me. Chicolini’s in town good for you?
Mind if we make it your place? Sorry if that’s a bit cheeky. I don’t want to spend the whole time signing autographs, that’s all x
Wow. Jo really did occupy another world now, didn’t she? It was weird to think of his ex as this big celebrity who couldn’t go anywhere without being mobbed by fans. Cal struggled to make sense of it. Maybe if she was a film star or something he could get his head around it, but online make-up tutorials? Still, that was the world now, he supposed. Anyway, he was glad she was doing well for herself.
OK, come on over, he said, and texted her his address.
Thanks, babes. Can’t wait to see you xxx
You too. Oh, but I’ve got none of that special milk for Conrad’s coffee. What kind does he have? I’ll nip out for some. Cal knew from Joanna’s Facebook posts that her new husband was vegan.
It’s just me. Con couldn’t make it. See you at your place in half an hour x
Half an hour, bloody hell! He hadn’t realised she was that nearby.
Cal hesitated a moment, his gaze still fixed on the phone. This was OK, wasn’t it? When the plan had been for all four of them to meet up somewhere in public it hadn’t felt like there was anything wrong, but now… he had this nagging feeling Hattie might be a bit peeved if she knew Joanna was coming over, alone.
That was fair enough, he supposed. Having his sexy ex over to the house while his fiancée was away on a trip did look a bit… well, if it was the other way round Cal wasn’t sure he’d be too keen on it. But it was all innocent, despite how it might look to a casual observer. Joanna’s fame meant coffee shops and pubs were off limits, and Cal hadn’t realised she wasn’t bringing her husband when he’d invited her. Besides, they were just two old married people – or nearly married, in his case – catching up after a lot of years. That was fine. Hattie trusted him; he knew that.
Still. There was a look he’d seen on her face when anyone brought up the subject of Joanna that made him think Hat was… not jealous of his ex exactly, but at least uncomfortable about the idea of him with her. Cal didn’t want anything upsetting Hattie in the run-up to the wedding, just when she ought to be enjoying her status as a bride-to-be. Innocent as it all was, it might be best if he didn’t mention Joanna’s visit. His ex would be gone tomorrow an
d that, Cal expected, would be the last he’d hear from her.
‘Darling!’ Joanna said when he opened the door to her half an hour later, her face glowing with pleasure and immaculately applied cosmetics. She threw herself at him for a hug. ‘Oh my God, it’s been so long!’
‘Hiya, Jo.’ Cal patted her back while she embraced him, casting a nervous glance at the surrounding houses. ‘Um, come in, please. I’ve got the kettle on.’
He showed her into the living room and gestured for her to take a seat on the sofa.
‘I’ll make some coffees,’ he said. ‘Still milk, no sugar?’
‘You haven’t got anything stronger?’ Joanna asked. ‘It’s a little late for caffeine.’
‘I’ve got some of Hattie’s chardonnay in the fridge.’ Cal paused as it occurred to him that if Jo drank that, Hattie would notice it was missing – he never drank white himself. That meant he’d either have to lie about who’d visited or top it up, which felt like a level of subterfuge beyond just keeping quiet about his ex-girlfriend’s visit. The idea made him uncomfortable.
‘Er, actually, no, she’s run out,’ he said. ‘Merlot?’
‘Oh no, I can’t drink red. I’ve just had my teeth whitened,’ Joanna said, looking appalled at the idea. ‘Never mind. I was saving this for later, but we may as well open it now.’
She reached into her handbag and handed him a bottle.
He stared at it. ‘Veuve Clicquot. Bloody hell. I hope you didn’t buy this specially.’
She shrugged. ‘It was a gift from one of my sponsors. They’re always sending the stuff. I’ve got a fridge full of it at home.’
‘Um, right. I’ll pour us a couple of glasses then. I haven’t got any flutes, I’m afraid.’
He went into the kitchen and popped open the bottle, peeping back at Joanna skimming her phone on the sofa. She was wearing a knee-length skirt – probably by some big-name designer, not that he was any sort of expert – which she’d pushed higher so she could cross her long, silken legs. Joanna looked out of place in his little living room, among the pot plants and IKEA furniture: too colourful, too beautiful, too… unreal. Suddenly, Cal really wished Hattie was there.
Love at First Fight Page 14
