And he’s saying we shouldn’t have!
‘What do you mean?’ I say stiffly. My voice not sounding like my own.
‘Shit, I didn’t mean.’ There’s a look of panic in his eyes as he runs his fingers through his hair and it’s like being slapped. ‘Oh my God, sorry, I didn’t mean…’ He reaches out to touch me, the tips of his fingers no longer scorching.
I take a step away. It hurts that he so dislikes the thought of anything happening between us. Is he going to blame the beer, the heat, my bloody shorts that made him think we were back in Reading? ‘Alice, it’s not you.’ He stops himself short.
‘What do mean, it’s not bloody me? It is me! Hello, I’m here, in the flesh. Real! You kissed me again and it wasn’t a frigging dream.’
‘Shit.’ He moves back in closer. Rests his forehead against mine. I try and step away, but his hands are on my shoulders, holding me still. ‘I wanted to do that, but I shouldn’t.’ His voice is soft as he gives a little shake of his head. ‘I promised myself I wouldn’t. It’s not fair on you, Alice. I want to, but it’s not… I can’t. I just can’t.’ He kisses my forehead, then steps back properly this time. ‘You’re gorgeous, lovely, but it’s…’
‘Complicated?’ I want to spit the word out, but I can’t. It comes out soft, sad. Small. ‘Oh, Jamie.’ I’ve waited for this moment for so long, and now he’s behaving like some jerk.
‘More than complicated. Alice, it isn’t just about you and me, things are fucked up enough, without… Shit, I need to shut up.’
‘You do.’
‘Look I didn’t mean…it’s not, I’m not saying you’d fuck things up. Arghh.’ He puts his hand to his head. ‘My life is a mess right now. I wouldn’t want to drag you into it.’ He shakes his head. ‘I wish I could explain, but I…’
‘Well, why don’t you?’ I fold my arms defensively.
He ignores me. ‘Look, I should go.’
‘You probably should if you can’t even talk to me. What is it with you and not being able to explain stuff?’
We stand awkwardly for a moment. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. Strangely formal. ‘I can’t right now, I will do though, I promise.’
‘Life isn’t frigging perfect preserved moments, Jamie. It’s about being real! You’re supposed to make mistakes, do things your own way.’ I’m yelling at him now. I want to stop, but I can’t. ‘Hanging on to a bloody memory rather than risk spoiling it is no better than me hanging on to fucking Dave because it meant I had somebody there when I needed them, is it?’ As I spit out the words, I realize they’re true. Was it so bad hanging on to a boyfriend who wasn’t ‘the one’? No worse than preserving a kiss in your head and heart like a fossil – never to be spoiled, but never to be lived or enjoyed either. ‘You lied to me and now you’re still not being honest!’ The person I never thought would take advantage of me. ‘I’ve had enough of this, Jamie. Enough of your excuses.’ The temper has died out of me, I’m all shouted-out. I just feel sad and tired. The new, assertive me, should have bawled Jamie out the other day when he admitted he’d been pretending, not waited until now. Waited until we’d kissed again, until he’d made my toes curl and my heart lift with the promise of things to come, and then shot it all down again.
This is going to hurt so much, but I can’t let him take advantage of me like this. Not even him. If I do, I’m letting myself down. Falling back into my old habits.
‘I can’t do this. I’m not going to be walked all over, I’m not going to be taken for granted.’
‘I’m sorry.’ He looks sorry. He looks lost, and I regret blowing up at him. ‘Alice—’
I glare at him.
‘Stop. Don’t say another word.’
He hesitates, as though he wants to say more. ‘Thank you for a lovely afternoon. It was great.’
‘Lovely,’ I say woodenly. ‘The weather was perfect.’ How on earth did we switch from lust to weather forecasts?
‘Couldn’t have been better.’
And then I turn on my heel and walk away from him – before he has the chance to do it to me.
I should feel positive, but I feel confused, hurt. Upset.
The birds aren’t singing any more. It’s not a beautiful spring day, it’s too hot. I’m sweaty on the outside and churned up and cold on the inside.
My phone beeps, and I’m tempted to ignore it. I don’t want to read any funny messages from my sisters saying how cute Jamie is. But I’m rubbish at ignoring my mobile. What if it’s something important? Urgent.
I’m a shit. Sorry. You’re right that life should be real, and you’re right about making mistakes. Except I have something in my life I have to sort out. I made one mistake lying to you, I can’t turn the clock back and make that right, but I can try and sort out the other mess in my life. I’d never take you for granted J x
Chapter Twenty-Two
Tuesday, again
‘Are you going to be long?’
‘I’m on the bus.’ I hold my mobile phone to my ear and gaze out of the rain-spattered window. The early promise that May showed has not lasted. ‘Another fifteen minutes probably?’
Sophie’s sigh carries clearly. ‘It’s a bit shit not being able to get in your room when you’re out. Can’t you give me a key or something?’
‘Well no, not really.’
‘I won’t forget to lock it or anything.’
‘It’s not that, Soph.’ I try not to sigh. ‘I didn’t get a lock just because of Dave, I got it because I need my own space. I can’t share everything all the time.’ There is silence on the line. ‘You do get that? I can’t live in my office, Soph. I want to live in my home. I want somewhere of my own for once.’
‘S’pose so,’ she finally says, grudgingly. ‘It’s just we always shared.’
‘I know,’ I say gently.
I have discovered the backbone that my sister said I needed, and I don’t think she likes it. I am standing firm on this one though. I need my privacy; I need my own space. I also need somewhere I can mope without fear of interruption.
Why can’t my life be more straightforward?
It’s been a week and two days (not that I’m counting, much) since the barbecue, and the kiss, and now Jamie has gone MIA.
No sign of him at all. No notes, nothing moved on the desk. No new socks for Mabel.
I don’t think he’s been in the office.
‘You’ve not heard from him, have you?’
‘No, Soph,’ I reply glumly. I’ve not heard from him at all and it’s surprising how much it hurts – even though I yelled at him and said enough was enough.
I close my eyes and I can feel his touch, taste his kiss and I have to scrunch up my eyes to stop the tears. This is ten times worse than the first time.
Worse than thinking he didn’t recognize me.
Last week was bad enough, but I’d hung on to the thought that he’d be in the office yesterday, that he would leave me a note, that we’d be back to normal.
‘That’s good news then?’
It dawns on me just in time that she’s talking about Dave. Not Jamie. She doesn’t know about our snog; she doesn’t know I feel like I’ve now been ghosted.
‘So?’ she prompts because I haven’t immediately answered her.
‘Yes, brilliant,’ I add hastily. ‘I think he’s got the message at last.’
‘Cool. Hurry up, eh? I’ve got something I’m dying to tell you!’
‘Great, can’t wait!’ I smile, despite my grumpy mood. ‘See you in a bit!’ In the past week the subject of Jamie hasn’t arisen with Soph because she has been too full of what is going on in her own life. Sophie has gone from a little bit in love, to falling headlong into the whirlwind emotions of passion and hope. I’ve read about them, these over-the-top emotions that leave you giddy and unable to think about anything or anybody else. I’ve seen them on the movies, but the closest I’ve got is fantasizing about fleeting snogs that were blurred by the beer in my veins and pounding music in
my ears.
And now I can add to that. A never to be repeated heartachingly perfect, lingering kiss on a pavement around the corner from my parents’ house.
I close my eyes and try to push the memory away. Then realizing the ache in my fingers is because I have my mobile phone in a death grip, I slip it back into my pocket. It beeps again just as I get off the bus and I make a grab for it.
I can’t help myself. How pathetic is that?
It’s not Jamie, it is a message from Lou. In response to my casual: Office was flaming quiet last week. How’s it been on your days? Has everybody resigned, and I’m the last to know?! Hope you’ve not abandoned me as well! Al xx
Lou is not daft. She reads between the lines. She knows what I mean by ‘everybody’.
Can’t get rid of me, babe! Your desk mate has been missing though, working at home my sources tell me. I’ll let you know if he surfaces tomorrow, bet Rodders is dry and barren without him. Fancy a crossover lunch on Friday? Lou x
You’re on! Normal place, 12.30ish? Missing you. Al x
I check the time, then push the phone deep into my pocket, and start power-walking towards home. Maybe I need to think about ways to raise my heart rate that don’t involve snogging Jamie. More exercise would do me good, and if I’m shagged from running, I will be worrying about dying and won’t have the spare brain capacity to think about the might-have-been, will I? Or I could get a cat or dog; a daily dose of cat yoga would calm my mind. Or I could just try a bit of everything.
‘Guess what?’ Sophie is sitting cross-legged on my bed, grinning like a Cheshire cat. I have never seen her so happy. I want to hug her.
‘You’ve found a new brilliant hairdresser?’ I say, teasingly. She shakes her head. ‘Got the sack?’
‘We’re going travelling!’ she blurts out, unable to play the game a second longer. ‘Daz was planning on it anyway and he’s asked me to go as well! Travelling, going places.’
‘I know what travelling means.’ I laugh, and I do hug her then. She’s as excited as a little kid. She bounces about in my arms; she can’t sit still.
‘He’s borrowing this old VW campervan from his mate, and it’s really hippy style, but it’s got a kitchen and this cute stove, and this bed that pulls out and has got fairy lights round it.’ She stops talking as fast and the grin on her face is replaced with a dreamy look. ‘It’s so cool, Al. You’ve got to see it! Do you think Mum and Dad liked him? We’re telling them tomorrow about going and I don’t want them to lose their shit, you know how they went ape the last time I said I was going away with a guy.’
‘You were sixteen and still at school.’ I say. ‘And the guy was twenty-two and a useless wanker. I think this might be a bit different.’
‘But I’d like them to like him. I really would.’
Soph is cute when she gets all sincere and is desperate for approval. It doesn’t happen often. She generally does her own thing and doesn’t really care if anybody else has given their blessing. Well at least that’s how she is on the outside, but inside she is bothered.
‘I’m sure they like him.’ Our parents have always been pretty cool about our life choices. They say they’ve done their bit, hope they’ve taught us about right and wrong, about hopes and expectations, about value and aspirations. They’re happy to guide and advise if we ask, but basically once we passed eighteen, they reckoned it was up to us. It explains in part why Soph is such a free spirit, I think that part of her came from Mum. I think Darcie’s determination and bounce-back came mainly from Dad.
‘Really?’
‘Really!’
‘Cool.’ She grins. ‘Are you okay?’ Sophie asks, as an afterthought.
‘Fine. Work is great, I got two new clients last week!’
‘Ace, clever big sister. At least one of us has a brain!’ She high-fives me. ‘And how’s Jamie dude?’
‘Not heard from him.’ I shrug, as though it doesn’t matter. ‘I think he’s been working at home. Stop looking at me like that!’ She is regarding me closely. She used to do that sometimes when we were kids and I was pretending to be asleep, but worried about something. I’d open one eye, and she’d be watching me intently and accuse me of ‘not breathing right’.
‘You like him!’
‘He’s okay!’
‘There’s something you’re not telling me! Tell, you know I can’t stand secrets.’
‘There’s nothing.’
Sophie is like a terrier; she hates thinking she is missing out on something and won’t let up until she gets the truth. ‘Oh, come on, Al, you can’t kid me. I know you.’ She leans forward, takes my hands in hers. ‘What is it with this guy?’
I pull my hands free, then crash down on my back on the bed, and Soph lies down beside me.
‘Do you think love at first sight is actually a thing?’
‘Normally takes three pizzas, a few snogs and a couple of shags for me.’ She grins. ‘But who knows?’
‘If I tell you this, you promise you won’t tell?’
‘Promise!’ Soph has good intentions, but her willpower isn’t that hot. She likes to share. She has to share. ‘Oh my God, stop teasing, come on, TELL ME! You can’t say it was love at first sight then clam up.’
‘Swear on Daz’s life?’ She purses her lips. ‘I’ll tell about your tats,’ she wavers, ‘and you letting Sparks out.’ When she was six, Soph opened the garden gate because she thought our dog wanted to explore. He ran off. He was missing for two weeks after (we presume) spooking at the traffic. Mum blamed herself for not closing the gate properly when her hands were full and Soph never ’fessed up. She also got a tattoo on her back that she had done after too many tequilas when she was seventeen. This would not have been important, except Dad had said he would give us £100 on our eighteenth birthday if we resisted. He wanted to be sure we were old enough to make the decision he said – alongside the fact that it would also have been illegal to have one done earlier, and Dad doesn’t do illegal. Not even a tiny bit illegal.
Soph took the money and only showed off the tattoo a month later.
I only know these things because she read my diary and recited bits from memory during Sunday lunch one day, so I nicked hers in retaliation when I was home from uni in the holidays. She’d kind of ‘spread out’ into my half of the room when I was away, and so it wasn’t my fault I found it in my wardrobe, was it?
‘And I’ll tell Daz you fed him a sausage that wasn’t remotely vegan and had never come into contact with any trace of a vegetable.’
‘Oh fine, for fuck’s sake, just bloody tell me!’
I take a deep breath. ‘I met him at Reading Festival you know, when I was at uni?’ She nods. ‘And we snogged just before the headline act came on, then I never saw him again.’
‘Wow!’ Sophie’s eyes have widened.
‘We didn’t say a word. Just snogged.’
‘Fuck! You.’ She grins. ‘You of all people kissed somebody you didn’t know! Wow!’ She flops back on the bed. I think I am slightly pissed off that she finds this such a surprise, me kissing somebody on impulse. ‘And?’
‘It was amazing.’ I put my hands over my face, but she springs up, leans over me and peels my fingers away.
‘That’s awesome! Shit, love at first kiss! It usually takes me swapping more fluids than just saliva before I think I’ve got it made!’
‘Sophie!’
‘Shit, we are talking about Jamie here?’ I nod. ‘That is something amazing to tell your kids.’
‘Then he pretended he didn’t remember.’
‘Fuck, you’re kidding?’
‘For two years.’
‘Wow.’
‘Then admitted he did remember just before the barbecue.’
‘And?’
‘And kissed me on the way home.’
‘Ace!’ She sees the look on my face and hesitates. ‘That’s good, isn’t it?’
‘He’s not interested, he started making excuses, so I blew him out.’
> ‘You? Bloody hell, Al! Go big sis, you rock!’
I don’t feel like I rock. ‘He’s avoided me ever since.’
‘Which is what he should do if you yelled at him like you yelled at me, except you didn’t really want to blow him out?’ I nod, sad. ‘Oh. Here, you need chocolate.’
I take the piece she offers. It’s nice, very nice and… ‘Where did you get this?’
She shrugs, the picture of innocence.
‘It’s mine, isn’t it? You nicked it while I was in the bathroom!’
‘Whatever. Did he actually say he wasn’t interested?’ See? Terrier!
‘He said it was complicated, and some other crap. He said we shouldn’t have kissed.’
‘Well there you go then.’ There is a note of triumph in her voice.
‘What do you mean, there you go? He’s ignoring me!’
‘Don’t give me your evil look! Complicated can be sorted. Simple. It’s just code for I’m fucking scared, not the same at all as I-wish-you’d-fuck-off.’
‘No it isn’t simple, Soph.’ I hold out my hand for another piece of my chocolate.
‘Was it a good kiss?’
‘Amazing,’ I say, a hint of wistful in my voice. ‘Even better than Reading.’ I munch sadly on chocolate.
‘Then he must have been up for it, mediocre kisses are one-sided. Amazing kisses defo take two.’
‘If you say so.’ I think he was up for it. Then he wasn’t. ‘He was probably just hysterically relieved to get away from the twins and got carried away.’
‘Haha, you’re so funny. Can I borrow those denim shorts to go away with?’
I am taken aback by the change of subject, but not that taken aback. I know how Soph works. The Jamie talk was just a distraction. ‘No!’
‘They’d remind me of you.’
‘Soph, you’re not going to forget me. I’m your bloody sister! Buy your own shorts.’
‘But they’re proper vintage.’
‘You cheeky cow!’ I bash her with a pillow. ‘I’m not that old, I’ve not had them that long.’
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