Maybe I should go back to dog sitting? Hugo’s mum, Ophelia, sent me several messages after our first disastrous date telling me he was the happiest she’d ever seen him when she picked him up, that he pined for me, that he whimpers when she says my name. That maybe I could just look after him for two hours while she has her friends round for brunch? Because if he’s there he’ll try to hump her best friend, Sophie, and a Great Dane wrapped around you can play havoc with your new top, and your hair, and, well, everything.
It is tempting. Hugo would be a diversion, wouldn’t he? And I’m sure I could handle him the way Noah did …
Bugger. Bloody Noah is in my head again.
I will cat sit. Cats have nothing to do with Noah. There is no link at all.
‘Hi.’
‘Hi, oh hi, Jed!’ Arghhhh. I am going to have to move house, work, everything. Why does everything link back to flaming Noah? What is his best friend doing invading my workplace?
‘Nice to see you again, Rosie!’
Yeah, sure, act surprised now you’ve gate-crashed my refuge. You have never been here before, that means you have searched me out. ‘And you, Jed! How are you?’
‘Fine, fine.’ He shifts slightly nervously.
Despite myself I feel I have to speak the name that should not be spoken. ‘Great, and Noah?? Have you seen him lately?’
‘Last night actually.’
‘He’s okay?’ I want to ask how many dates he’s had, if he’s mentioned me, if he can even remember me; you know, needy stuff like that. But I manage to stop myself.
Jed shrugs. ‘Bit grumpy. Rosie,’ he hesitates, so maybe this isn’t an ambush; he doesn’t seem to have a speech planned. ‘He’s a nice guy, you know, underneath all that, that …’
‘Bravado? Charm?’
‘He just likes to chat, to talk to people, to help. What can I say, he’s a friendly guy? Look,’ I hate it when people say ‘look’ it suggests they are going to say something I don’t want to hear, ‘I don’t know what happened between you guys, but it’s hit him.’
I do a goldfish impression, before managing to squeak. ‘Him? It’s hit him.’
‘He’s a,’ he looks round as though to check Noah hasn’t crept up behind him, ‘he’s a sensitive guy. He was really close to my wife, Millie, known her years. She introduced us actually, and if it had been anybody else, I wouldn’t have trusted them.’ He concentrates on the book display. ‘It really knocked him sideways when she, when it happened.’
‘Hang on, he’d known her for years? I thought you’d grown up with her?’
‘Me? Oh no, no I wished I had, but I met her in Freshers week at uni, in a queue to join some society. She was with Noah. I thought that they were going out, but they were just good mates, like brother and sister. Jokey.’ He smiles to himself. ‘I was jealous of him at first, until I realised there really wasn’t anything else on either side.’
‘He was jealous of you,’ I say softly, trying to get this all straight in my head.
Jed laughs and glances back up at me. ‘Oh yeah, he was, after six pints he always used to moan about never finding a girl that he got on with like Mills, and wanted to sleep with as well. Said it was always one or the other. But he didn’t let it stop him from trying!’ He suddenly sobers, and his steady gaze makes me wary. ‘He really felt it when Mills died; he’d lost her, and he’d lost me for a while. I just couldn’t cope.’ He shrugs. ‘Grief can be a bugger. I didn’t deal with it well, I admit it, and I pushed him away. I never thought about his feelings and how close they’d been. I don’t know if I should tell you this,’ he pauses, ‘oh bugger, no, no it’s not my place. But look, he’s an okay guy, right?’ He shakes his head and looks so genuinely sad I want to hug him. ‘I reckon he feels like every time he puts his feelings on the line, he loses.’
‘He said you were really broken up.’ I try and stop my voice cracking.
‘Totally. Every time I did something that I used to do with her it came at me, bam. It’s shit, you know, you’re up and down all the time. I forgot that it was probably hitting him in exactly the same way, and we should have supported each other.’ He wrinkles his nose. ‘Not a very “guy” thing to do, mutual support, is it?’
‘I suppose not.’
‘We all lose people,’ he picks up the nearest book, stares down at it but I’m sure he can’t even see it. ‘That’s life, isn’t it? People can die, people can just walk out of your life. But I’m coming out of the other end now. I guess I’m trying to say,’ he looks me in the eye again, ‘I am there for Noah now. I can see him clearly again. It’s none of my business, but he likes you, Rosie.’ He nods. ‘Really likes you. Do you like him?’ He holds up a hand to stop me talking. ‘Because if you do, tell him. Please, for my sake, he’s being such a miserable bastard he’s doing my head in!’
‘Call him! Listen to the man,’ Bea shouts across the shop as she strides towards us.
‘Big ears!’ I say lamely, because I can’t think of anything else to say.
‘Er hi!’ Jed grins at Bea as she reaches us, balancing two large coffees. She grins back. Grins! Like, girlish grin, not normal everyday are-you-buying-a-book-or-not preying grin.
I seem to have been forgotten. Weird!
‘Hi! You’re early!’ She beams.
‘I’ll browse, while you drink your coffee. I was just chatting to Rosie about Noah.’ They share a conspiratorial look.
Early? What does she mean early? I stare at Bea looking for answers. She shrugs and laughs self-consciously. Bea is not a self-conscious person. Jed takes a backward step at my scrutiny.
‘Okay, what’s going on? Is this some kind of strategy to get Rosie a date, it won’t wor—’
‘Why does this have to be about you, Rosie?’ Bea passes me a coffee. ‘Get that down your neck. I think you need it you’re being so grumpy this morning.’
‘So,’ I frown at Jed, ‘you didn’t come in to see me?’
‘Er, no,’ he looks slightly confused, ‘I came to see Bea, though it was great to see you, and I did want to mention Noah if I did, er bump into you.’
‘You didn’t know I worked here, did you?’
He looks bashful. ‘No, not really.’
I laugh. He looks like a naughty child that’s been caught out.
‘So, what exactly are you two up to?’
‘A date,’ says Bea still grinning, ‘we met when I saw him and Noah out for a drink, and we had a chat – that was about you by the way if you’re feeling left out – and well, ta-da date time!’
‘You met Noah out, you never said! What did he say, did he—’ Ask about me is on the tip of my tongue, but that is dangerous ground. ‘Look okay, Jed said he’s fine, I’m sure he—’
‘You’re blathering. Stop it! He was fine,’ she looks me in the eye and raises an eyebrow, ‘a bit subdued, but fine. He asked how your dating was going, and I told him it was shit, and he must have been a shit teacher.’
‘You didn’t!’
‘I did. I told him maybe you needed more lessons, and he said you’d chickened out, dropped out. Quit.’
I can feel myself bristling. ‘I don’t quit things! I’d finished, we’d finished!’
‘Oh yeah. Course you had. Well, that’s my coffee done. I’m going to winkle Jed out of the sci-fi corner and introduce him to my fantasy section!’
‘Fine. I’ll go back to putting stickers on books, shall I?’
‘Perfect, back in an hour.’ She pauses, her tone softening. ‘He did say he was open for sign-ups to a new course, advanced, if you were interested.’
Chapter 26
Bea is right. Noah is right. Even though I’m not a quitter, I just quit. Though it doesn’t really matter if I’m not planning on dating any time soon, does it?
I want to send Noah a ‘sorry you lost Millie’ message, but that would be plain weird, wouldn’t it?
But I am. Sorry that it hit him so hard. I can’t imagine what it must be like when you care about somebody that much.
&nb
sp; ‘Saw Jed earlier, didn’t realise him and Bea were an item!’
Is that a bit pass-agg? I ask the potted plant on my windowsill, and then delete the text. It has kind of ‘why didn’t you tell me?’ connotations. And it was me who insisted we were done.
I have spent the last half an hour picking my mobile up and then putting it down.
What if I have made a mistake?
I could just send a ‘more lessons needed!’ message, couldn’t I? Bea did say he had an advanced course in mind.
Or would that be, what’s the word, disingenuous? Insincere. Because he would be doing it to help me, and I would have ulterior motives. I would be doing it so that I could spend time with him, stare at him, feed my rude and not so rude fantasies.
Or I could just apologise for tarring him with the same brush as my father. That wasn’t fair at all. Even if he is like Dad, I have absolutely no proof at all. He’s not married, he’s a free agent. And he’s never done anything but be nice to me.
I could just say ‘sorry, hope everything is okay with you’, couldn’t I? And maybe add ‘do you think I’d be mad to take Hugo on?’ I mean he is the only friend I’ve got who knows about Hugo, so he’d be the ideal person to ask.
Oh God, I am really clutching at straws now, aren’t I?
I need to be brave. Just say sorry. Get it out of my system. Then he can say bog off you witch, and we can both carry on with our lives.
My phone vibrates. So, as it is in my hand, I open the message. It will be Mum depressing me even further by demonstrating how adventurous and open to fun, love and sexual adventure she is, despite the last thirty shitty years.
My heart did a blimp the other day when she Facebook messaged to say ‘Met Art’s friend Mike, he’s lovely, we had threesome after lunch. Fantastic experience, you should try it!’
I was fanning myself and trying to remember how to breathe normally when the dot-dot-dot told me she had more to say. ‘Sorry, hit enter by mistake when I was editing that, silly machine! Threesome kayaking! It was breathtaking. White-water sandwiched between two strong men, I was just the passenger! Are you eating proper meals? Shall I bring some fudge back?’
I think she is going to outlive me.
Anyway, it is not mother texting me. I slide down the wall and sink on to the floor.
All thoughts of Mum disappear from my head.
‘Thought you’d like to know I saw Hugo the other day! He’s got even bigger Hugo the huge! N x’
There is a photo attached.
Fuuuuck! I close my eyes, clutch the phone to my heart and try not to sob. Not because of Hugo. But … Noah!
I look at the message again.
Definitely Noah. Oh gawd, what do I say? How do I say it? My hands are shaking too much. I need a full-size keyboard, not a stupid miniscule mobile one that is difficult enough when I’m sober and of sound mind.
‘You’re not kidding! R x’
It’s the best I can do; it would take years to type in all the things I actually want to say.
‘Made me think of you. N x’
‘You’re comparing me to a huge, slobbering dog? R x’
‘Fun, clever, mad, gorgeous. N x’
Oh.
Gorgeous.
And the other stuff. But gorgeous. He wouldn’t say gorgeous if he hated me, never wanted to see me again, would he?
For a moment I am speechless.
‘Ophelia has asked me to design a house for him – apparently he can be a bit of a handful! Want to preview the blueprint, see if you think he’d approve?’
‘You’re building dog houses now?! R x’
‘Alongside her extension N x’
Ahh.
‘Love to. You do know he’s a bit crazy x’
And sex-starved I nearly add.
‘Like us?’
Totally like us.
‘Tomorrow lunchtime? Park? I’ll bring squashed sandwiches? It will be like the old days? N x’
‘Great. R x’
Lunch is good. No over-high expectations. No awkwardness. No risk of getting drunk and doing what I shouldn’t.
Oh my God, just how dressed up can I be for work tomorrow, without Bea getting suspicious?
Chapter 27
‘How’ve you been?’
‘How’s your mum?’
We both speak at the same time.
‘You first.’ He grins; I knew I’d missed that grin. I didn’t realise how much until now. The laughter lines around his eyes seems more defined than they were, maybe it’s because he’s a bit more tanned. But his eyes look wary, he looks like I feel.
Wanting this to be nice.
Hoping we can be friends.
Well I am. He’s probably worried he’ll get a repeat performance of my clambering all over him, then having a minor meltdown. Embarrassing.
‘She’s good. She’s in Cornwall doing all the things she wishes she’d done earlier. Including threesomes—’ His eyes open wider. ‘In a kayak!’
‘Haha, very funny.’ His voice is dry, then he chuckles. Oh my God I’d forgotten what that does to my insides. From being all dried up and curled up like withered lettuce leaves they spring back to life, unfurl. I feel lighter. It’s impossible not to smile back. To laugh with him. Then he stops laughing and stares at me. ‘She’s fabulous, your mum. You’re lucky.’
My throat is dry. ‘I know.’
‘You should make the most of your time together.’
‘Oh, she’s way cooler than me these days, I’m not sure I can keep up!’
‘You know what I mean.’ He touches my hand briefly, and I suddenly feel like grabbing him and crying, because I know from the tremor in his voice, from the dryness of his lips, that it’s important. ‘Look,’ he takes a deep breath, glances at me, then down at his feet, ‘there’s something I probably should have told you. A reason why losing Millie hit me so hard, and probably, well probably brought out all that shit I laid on you when I was pissed, about love being so crap, and destructive, and …’
‘I know you were close to her, I know she meant—’
‘It wasn’t just losing Millie.’ He looks back up and this time his gaze locks on to mine. ‘My mum died when I was twelve years old. Twelve.’
‘Oh God, oh Noah, I—’
He holds a hand up to stop me talking. ‘I reckon it’s shit to lose your mum at any age, but it just seemed so complicated then. It kind of destroyed my faith in everything a bit, and screwed me up when it came to getting close to people. Then I met Millie and she was cool, she really helped me, and I guess she gave me a get out. An excuse not to get involved with other girls. I was too young to have that “regret not doing more with her” thing, but I wish I’d been older; I wish I’d known her better. You need to forget your dad, make sure you love your mum enough.’
It would be wrong to hug him right now, try and chase the hurt away. He needs to talk this out, we need to talk this out. ‘Do you remember much about her?’
I can’t imagine what it was like for him. I’d be devastated if I lost Mum, and I get now why he said we were lucky to have each other.
‘A bit. The hugs, the smell of her,’ he looks at me steadily, ‘I loved the smell of her, it meant I was safe.’ I swallow, blink, try to just sit still and listen. ‘And the love. She loved everything so much, she loved life.’ There’s a sheen to his eyes; my heart aches at the break in his voice, but I just rest my hand over his and wait. ‘She seemed to have this never-ending capacity to love, everybody, everything, the flowers, the sky, ice cream, the man in the street, stray dog, smelly tramp, traffic warden.’ His voice is steady again now as he digs into the memories, brings her back. ‘She used to tuck me in bed at night if I’d had a bad day and tell me kindness costs nothing and we’re all much the same inside. We all need love, hugs and hope.’ He stares up at me, as though he’d forgotten I’m here. ‘I’ve not talked about her for ages, not to anybody.’ He squeezes and I realise his fingers are threaded through mine.
‘You should do. She sounds wonderful.’
‘She was. So was Dad, he was a hugger before it became popular! Mum’s fault.’ He grins. A lopsided grin that is a little bit sad and fades from his face as quickly as it appeared. ‘But he found it hard when she went.’
‘Like Jed did?’
He nods. ‘Like Jed did. And after losing Mum, losing Millie seemed like somebody was telling me that falling in love is an idiot’s game.’
We sit in silence for a moment. Watching people stride past us through the park. Seeing the children play, but I don’t think he really hears or sees any of it.
He’d watched two men he admired, with a huge capacity to love, lose it all. Which led him to draw his own conclusion that it was safer not to give your heart away in the first place.
‘Losing Mum was the most painful thing that had ever happened to me.’ He says the words as though he’s shocked, as though he’s never said them before, never thought them before. ‘It kind of ripped something out of me,’ he says as though he needs to make it clear. Then he looks at me, his direct gaze clear and unflinching. ‘I missed her. I’ve never stopped missing her.’ Oh God, I must not cry. I must not. The heat of tears burn inside my eyelids, I bite down on my bottom lip. Nod. Try to keep control.
His own eyes well up; there’s a tremble in his fingers as he twists his hand in mine. ‘I missed her like hell, and I miss Millie too.’
I do hug him then. I can’t help myself. I throw myself at him and hold him tight. He nuzzles against my neck, his tears damp on my skin and he clutches me so hard it feels like he’s never going to let go.
‘Sorry.’ His voice is muffled against my skin, then he pulls back slightly. Awkward. A strained smile on his face. He takes a steadying breath, wipes his palm over his face. ‘God, I don’t know what came over me, sorry, I’ve been doing too much thinking lately, not enough work. This wasn’t what I had planned when I texted you.’ His normally even voice still has a heart-breaking tremble in it. ‘Must be the weather, or my age, or something.’
The First Date Page 26
