Summer Night Dreams
Page 25
Alex winced. Obviously, he could see that they weren’t a full English breakfast, but as an option to soak up his hangover, a gussied up mini-quiche wasn’t going to make the grade. He shrugged. ‘I’ll take the lot.’
He took hold of one side of the tray, and waited for the waitress to let go. ‘You can’t take them all.’
‘I can.’ He tugged the tray out of the girl’s grip. There was a possibility that he was behaving like a jerk. He flashed a smile. ‘Were you one of the evil temptresses handing out punch last night?’
The girl giggled and gave a tiny nod.
‘Then I’m sorry but this is payback. Must have hangover food.’
She smiled back at him. ‘Well if it’s a medical need?’
‘It totally is.’
She was still smiling as she walked away. Alex grinned to himself. Back on the horse.
‘How did you get a whole tray?’ Helen appeared at his elbow, and nicked one of his tartlets.
‘Natural charm.’
‘I doubt it. You smell like death.’
‘Technically I smell like deodorant, sweat, vomit and a battered ego.’
‘What does battered ego smell like?’
Alex gestured at the air around him. ‘Like this.’ He looked around the room. ‘Weddings are weird.’
‘Because of the implied subsuming of the female into the male?’
‘No.’ Alex cast his eyes around the room. ‘Because of all this. It’s all pretence, isn’t it? Pretending that you can promise someone forever. You don’t know, do you? You don’t know what’s going to happen tonight, let alone next year or in ten years? How can you promise that you’ll still love a person in ten years’ time?’
Helen shrugged. ‘You can’t know that you won’t.’
‘But that’s not what getting married says. You’re not saying “There’s a statistical possibility that I could still love you in the future.” You’re saying that you definitely will.’
‘Maybe if you really love them, then it is forever.’
‘Is that how you feel about Dominic?’
Helen doesn’t answer for a second. ‘Yeah, but ...’
‘I thought, if you really loved them there were no buts.’
She shook her head. ‘It’s a different sort of but. But you’re right.’
Alex was surprised. Although, he did say an awful lot of stuff, he must be right some of the time. ‘I am?’
‘I’ve got to stop putting my life on hold. A moment every ten years? It’s stupid, isn’t it? I can’t pay my mortgage, and I’ve reached the point where I’m seriously considering taking out a hit on the woman from the tax credits helpline. It’s not a way to live.’
‘So what are you going to do?’
‘I’m gonna change it.’
Helen
Helen walked away from Alex feeling all powerful and in control. She was the author of her own destiny. She had come up with a plan. There were four easy steps:
Step One: Find Isabel Sutton and wow her with academic brilliance so that Sutton instantly offered Helen a job.
Step Two: Quit current job and move to Manchester, which was in The North, and therefore cheaper so she would definitely be able to afford the sort of dream home where the shower ran at a consistent temperature.
Step Three: Have a glittering career.
Step Four: Get over Dominic.
Easy. The first kink in the plan came when she couldn’t find Professor Sutton. This was the sort of thing that would discourage a person less in control of their destiny. There was no need for panic. The esteemed professor had been here the night before. She was at the ceremony half an hour ago. So, logically, she must be here somewhere. The toilet? She might have gone to the toilet. Helen headed down the corridor to the ladies’ loo. There was no queue but both cubicles were occupied. Should she wait? She shouldn’t wait. Waiting for someone outside the toilet would be stalker-ish. Or maybe not. It could be like Helen had just happened to run into her here. One of the cubicle doors was opening. It probably wouldn’t be her, in which case Helen could go into the cubicle, wait for a minute, flush and come out again. Nobody would think she was weird.
‘Doctor Hart.’
It was Professor Sutton. What to do? She couldn’t go into the cubicle now because the professor would get away again, but if she didn’t she was just a woman who liked to hang around in public conveniences. Hold on. Professor Sutton didn’t know that Helen hadn’t just come out of the other cubicle. She could still pull this back. She turned to the wash basin and ran the tap. Washing her hands. That was totally a normal thing to do. Helen started to relax.
‘Doctor Hart?’ She said it louder this time.
Helen ran the conversation over again in her head. She’d forgotten to answer hadn’t she? She’d been concentrating so hard on looking normal that she’d forgotten to answer the question. Helen tried to smile and brazen it out. She turned and gave a slight jump, implying, she hoped, that she simply hadn’t seen the other woman standing next to her in the two foot square space. ‘Professor Sutton.’
‘Isabel, please. Lovely ceremony.’
Helen nodded. ‘Once they’d sorted out the music.’
Isabel laughed. ‘I much preferred her second choice.’
She’d finished washing her hands, and was moving to the hand dryer. It was one of those super modern ones that dries your hands and makes you a cup of tea in less than ten seconds without trashing the planet. It also made about the same amount of noise as a jump jet taking off in the next room. There was no way Helen could impress anyone over that.
Isabel pulled her hands out of the dryer. ‘Well, I’ll probably see you later.’
She was leaving. She rounded the corner out of the door. It was now or never. Helen ran the four paces to catch up with her wiping her hands on her skirt. ‘Elizabeth Fry!’
Professor Sutton stopped. ‘I’m sorry?’
Helen dragged her voice down to a normal pitch and tone, as if shouting the names of eighteenth century reformers at the backs of passing academics was normal behaviour. ‘You were asking last night about the links between the abolitionist movement and prison reform.’
Sutton stopped. ‘I don’t think one individual is of anything more than symbolic value.’
She was arguing, which was worse than her falling at Helen’s feet in awe of her intellectual prowess, but significantly better than running away from the crazy toilet lady, and argument Helen could do. ‘Well no, but there are parallels in the use of language around slaves and prisoners – the infantalisation and the othering.’
She nodded. ‘That seems valid.’
Next came the tricky bit and Helen had no idea how it normally worked. The whole old boy network thing was outside of her expertise. She imagined there was some sort of special handshake and then you would all go and play golf. ‘Do you play golf?’
Isabel shook her head. ‘No.’
‘No. Me neither.’
She glanced back towards the toilets. ‘Were you waiting for me in there?’
Helen closed her eyes. This was it, wasn’t it? Failure of the plan at Step One. She was destined to spend the rest of her life earning a pittance and mooning over her best friend’s husband. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Why? You know I’m straight, don’t you?’
‘What?’
‘Gender studies. Female academic. People get the wrong idea.’
‘No! I wasn’t. I’m not. I don’t want to ...’ Helen’s mouth was still going. She was reduced to a mere spectator waiting to see what it would say next. ‘I mean not that you’re not attractive. You’re not my type. I’m sorry. I said that already, didn’t I? Sorry.’ Helen clamped her mouth shut.
‘Stop apologising. I can’t abide women who constantly apologise.’
Every fibre of Helen’s being itched to say sorry. Must fight urge to apologise.
‘So why were you waiting for me?’
Helen gave up. She already looked completely ridiculou
s. ‘I wanted to ask you for a job.’
‘And you thought the ladies’ toilet was the best place?’
Helen shook her head. ‘Look. I’m not very in practice at this “seizing the moment” thing.’ Isabel looked amused. Amused was better than horrified.
‘Why didn’t you say you were looking for a job?’
‘I don’t know. It seemed a bit forward.’
‘But you already know I’m interested in your work. I told you that last night.’
It was true. She did.
‘So come on. You don’t get anywhere in life by babbling like an idiot in a toilet, do you?’
Helen supposed not. ‘Can I start again?’
‘Go on.’
Helen held out her hand for shaking. ‘Hi. I’m Doctor Helen Hart. I’m an historian. I wanted to say that I’ve read a huge amount of your work, and I think the department you run in Manchester sounds incredible.’
‘And?’
‘What?’
‘Now tell me what you want. Don’t be so bloody polite.’
‘Well I want a job.’
She nodded. ‘All right then. Now we can talk.’
So they did, and it transpired that Isabel genuinely was familiar with Helen’s work, and also had a departmental vacancy to fill.
‘You’re kidding.’
Professor Sutton shook her head. ‘The posts were advertised in January, but we didn’t fill them all.’
‘So you’re actually offering me a job?’
‘No. I’m offering you an interview, but your publication record is good, especially considering that you don’t have a full-time university post at the moment. And I would like to be able to offer dissertation supervision in your area.’ She smiled. ‘And you’re clearly very keen.’
‘Sorry about the toilet thing.’
Isabel held up hand. ‘Don’t apologise. I’m surprised you didn’t apply when we advertised the post.’
Helen paused. ‘I wasn’t looking to move out of the area then.’
‘And now you are?’
She took a deep breath. ‘Now I realise that I don’t have a reason to stay.’
‘Okay. Well I’ve got your contact details on this napkin.’ She held up the paper serviette Helen had pressed into service in the absence of anything as professional as a business card or notepad. ‘Someone will contact you on Monday to set up an interview. Enjoy the rest of the reception.’
Don’t do the happy dance until she’s out of sight. Don’t do the happy dance until she’s out of sight. Helen waited until Isabel rounded the corner, and did the happy dance on her own in the hallway outside the toilets.
She didn’t have anyone to be happy with her. Apart from Alex, of course, who seemed to have recovered from being in love with her dishearteningly quickly. Not dishearteningly because she wanted him to be in love with her. It would just be nice to think that she had sufficient allure to hold someone’s interest for more than three hours. She hadn’t spoken to Emily or Dominic since they’d been dispatched from the bedroom of shame. One of those problems felt too massive to think about. Helen looked up. The other was standing at the end of the hall. Emily.
Dominic
‘Congratulations.’ Dominic shook his soon-to-be father-in-law by the hand. ‘Where’s Tania disappeared to?’
‘I think her and Emily wanted to adjust their hair.’ Theo paused. ‘Actually, I think Emily wanted to adjust Tania’s hair.’
He put a hand on the younger man’s elbow and pulled him away from the crowd. ‘I did want to talk to you on your own though.’
‘Oh?’
‘Nothing to be worried about. Just work.’
Dominic thought back to their argument on interview day. It seemed like a very long time ago. ‘The interviews?’
‘No. No. Although we do still have to make a decision I suppose. But no. Something else.’
‘Something wrong?’
Theo shook his head. ‘I wanted to tell you that I’m retiring. I’ve got to give notice, but I presume they’ll want to have someone new in post for the new academic year.’
‘Wow.’
‘Wow?’
‘I just ... I don’t know. I guess I didn’t think you were the retiring sort.’
Theo chuckled. ‘I don’t think I was, but a good job, it’s not the same as a good life, is it?’
‘I suppose not.’
‘The plan is to sell the house and move to the coast somewhere. I fancy Northumberland and Tania grew up by the sea.’
Dominic managed to arrange his thoughts into a coherent sentence. ‘Well good luck. I hope it all works out for you.’
‘I was thinking that you ought to apply for the job.’
‘Your job?’ Dominic shook his head. He’d only been a full professor for a couple of years. ‘They’ll want someone older.’
His boss chuckled again. ‘Well you’re not exactly the boy wonder any more. Fifteen years in the department. Excellent publications record. Why not you?’
Why not indeed? It would fit with the plan, give him a nice salary boost, which would help support Emily not working and caring for the ever-increasing number of children she seemed to be visualising. That was the image in his head. It was what he’d been working towards. It was what his parents had sacrificed so much of their own comfort to offer him, and it was right there for the taking. Dominic found himself laughing.
‘I have to go.’
‘What?’
‘I’m sorry. Enjoy the rest of the day.’ Thoughts were rushing through his head. ‘I have to go.’
‘What about the job?’
What about the job? It was what Dominic had always worked towards. It was the sensible thing to do. It was the precise opposite of what a man who had sword fights in car parks would do. Dominic shook his head. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘What if Emily’s looking for you?’
‘Tell her ...’ Dominic paused. What should Theo tell her? ‘Tell her I’ll talk to her when I get back.’
He ran out to the car park and jumped in his car. What was he doing? Doubts started to crowd his head. He turned the radio on and up to drown them out. Another of his dad’s old sayings jumped into his head. It’s easier to ask forgiveness than permission. So maybe that was what he should do.
Emily
I stop at the end of the corridor. Helen is jumping up and down like a crazy person at the other end. I wait for her to see me. ‘Do you hate me now?’
‘What?’
‘For what I did with Alex.’ I’d understand if she did. I probably deserve to be hated.
She shakes her head. ‘Do you hate me?’
I don’t answer.
‘For kissing Dominic?’
I shouldn’t. She kissed my boyfriend, which is wrong, but the moral high ground’s been moving too rapidly lately for me to want to risk clinging to it too tightly. ‘I don’t know.’
There’s something I have to ask. ‘Are you in love with him?’
She looks straight at me. She nods.
I don’t understand. They were friends for years before he was my boyfriend. ‘Why didn’t you do something about it earlier?’
‘He was with you.’
‘Before that?’
‘He was my teacher.’
‘Not for a whole decade.’
She looks up to the ceiling. ‘I’m a coward. If I never told him I’d never get rejected.’ Tears are starting to form in the corners of her eyes. ‘Anyway, it doesn’t matter now. He’s your fiancé.’
‘Is he? He‘s hardly spoken to me today. I can’t even find him. I think he might have gone home.’ I feel like I’m floating in the middle of an ocean. I need something solid to cling onto. Without thinking I put my hand out against the wall next to me, and find myself sliding onto the floor. It’s good. Good solid floor. Solid wall against my back.
Helen sits down next to me. ‘He probably needs time to process it all. I’m sure he’ll come back, or you can see him tomorrow.’
She wraps her arms around my shoulders. ‘No. You won’t. You’ve got your dad and your friends. You’ve got me.’
‘Dad says he’s moving to Northumbria.’
‘Really? Who’s going to be head of department?’
I look up. I’m not sure that’s really the main point. ‘What?’
‘Sorry. It doesn’t matter. He’ll still be your dad though, won’t he? People don’t have to live in your pocket to care about you.’
Tears are building up behind my eyes. I give up. I let them flow. ‘I can’t manage on my own.’
‘Yeah. You can. You can manage fine.’ She moves her arm and grips my shoulders. ‘You’re far more capable that you tell yourself.’
‘No. I’m not.’ I wipe my eyes. It’s nice for her to say it though. ‘We’d better go back to the reception.’
She drags herself up, and then offers a hand to help me. ‘You’re going to be fine. Whatever happens with Dominic, you’ll be all right. I promise.’
I try to smile. She’s being kind, but she can’t promise that, can she? Sometimes things aren’t okay. Sometimes people leave and they don’t come back.
Dominic
It was after four by the time Dominic pulled his car up outside his mother’s terrace, and rang the doorbell. He listened for the sound of footsteps within, and was rewarded with the shuffling of her slippers on the worn carpet.
‘Dominic! What are you doing here? Come in. Come in. Is something wrong?’
He followed her into the living room and sat at one end of the sofa next to his mother. The house could be full to bursting and still no-one in the family would sit on the armchair that remained in prime position in the room. His father’s chair. ‘Nothing’s wrong. I came to tell you something.’
‘Cup of tea? I’ll get you a cup of tea.’
He put his hand out to stop her getting up. ‘I’m fine.’
‘A cold drink? A sandwich? There’s some ham.’
‘Really, I’m fine.’
‘A beer?’