‘Well,’ Alice grinned, looking pleased with herself. ‘I thought we could do that.’
‘Really?’
I was far too negative straight away, screwing my face up in horror. Alice was quite taken aback by the reaction, instantly becoming defensive.
‘All right, not if you don’t want to.’
‘Huh?’
‘If you think it’s a stupid idea then we won’t,’ she huffed, picking up the pepper and aggressively chopping it into chunky rings before chucking them into the wok and stirring them in.
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘You’re being all hesitant and weird,’ she said, brushing her fringe out of her eyes with the back of her hand.
‘Am I?’
I was. I knew I was. I can’t deny it.
‘Yes. It doesn’t matter if you don’t want to do it,’ she said dismissively, picking up the carrot. ‘It was just a thought.’
‘Isn’t it a bit cheesy?’
‘You didn’t think so when she showed us them, in fact you really liked them.’
Like I said, I did. I couldn’t argue with that.
‘Won’t it be weird having Maddy do it for us, though?’ I suggested.
‘She’s your best friend, Ben. How many photos has she taken of us over the years?’
‘True,’ I mumbled.
‘I just thought it would be a nice thing to do. Give our parents some lovely pictures of us,’ she muttered, her face falling with disappointment. ‘It’s no big deal.’
‘You’re right,’ I nodded enthusiastically. ‘Let’s do it.’ There was no way I could possibly get out of it and I didn’t want to upset Alice if it was something she really wanted to do – it was only taking pictures, after all.
‘Really? You mean it?’
‘Yeah. Why not.’
‘Great,’ she smiled, banging on the kitchen side with delight.
‘So, what did Maddy say?’
‘She said she’d love to – she was in the middle of something when I called, but she said she’d get back to me later on with some dates.’
‘Marvellous.’
Maddy
Twenty-four years old …
I’d been sat on my backside in the rather dead art shop when Alice called. It wasn’t manic and I wasn’t busy. I just felt the sudden urge to get off the phone to her and call her back when I was mentally prepared.
Of course, I’d taken hundreds of photos of them before, they were all over my Facebook page, so it’s not like I was averse to them being a couple or shied away from picturing them together. But taking photos of days out or when people are drunk and giddy is quite different to doing a shoot based on their love for each other. It’s not that I felt I couldn’t bear to see Ben and Alice together, or like I was worried feelings would start stirring in me again, more that I felt like I would be a big fat fraud taking the photos for them. That was my problem.
I sat in the shop for the rest of the afternoon and glumly thought about the best thing to do. In the end, after much deliberation, I came to the conclusion that I was worrying over nothing. If Alice had asked it meant that she must have spoken to Ben first, and if he hadn’t been bothered about it then perhaps I’d been over-thinking it. Three years had passed since our one night together. I reasoned it was silly of me to keep thinking of it so highly and giving it such importance, especially as Ben was clearly so happy and in love … as was I.
I phoned Alice back later that night. Robert was watching the football in the other room and I’d just cleaned up after dinner. I sat at the kitchen counter, gulping on a large glass of rosé, while I waited for her to pick up.
‘It’s Maddy,’ I heard her whisper, presumably to Ben, as she brought the phone to her ear. ‘Hello, you.’
‘Hey, Alice. So sorry about earlier, there was a sudden mad rush. All of Chiswick’s loyal art collectors must have dashed out at once to find something new.’
‘Not at all, don’t worry,’ she laughed. ‘I should’ve called tonight when I knew you were at home. It just suddenly popped into my head and I got a bit excited about the idea.’
‘Honestly, it’s no problem at all,’ I smiled, still finding her cheeriness as infectious as ever.
‘So, what do you think? Are you up for doing something similar with us?’
‘Yes, definitely. I think it’ll be a lovely thing for you guys to do.’
‘Nothing mad, we don’t need to go crazy with it – just some of us wrapped up all cosy and walking along somewhere pretty would be lovely. Something nice and chilled so that Ben doesn’t feel like an idiot.’
‘That sounds doable,’ I nodded to myself.
‘Are you sure it’s okay?’
‘Definitely. Consider it an engagement present from us,’ I offered.
‘Oh, Maddy, thank you. That’s so kind. We could even do it when we come to you next, if you like? Save you lugging all your equipment across London.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes! It makes sense.’
‘Perfect. Robert can be my assistant and then we’ll go have dinner afterwards.’
‘Brilliant. Thanks again, Maddy.’
‘It’s a pleasure,’ I insisted, bringing the glass to my mouth and sloshing more wine down my gullet.
Two Sundays later we took a leisurely stroll down by the river in the wintry sunshine. Ben and Alice hand in hand, me running ahead with my camera up at my face and Robert running alongside me holding my tripod, light reflector, spare lenses, memory cards and batteries, looking like a clueless (but enthusiastic) donkey. We snapped as we went, making most of the shots natural with Ben and Alice just talking and laughing with each other, looking all cosy beneath the mountains of layers they were wearing – Alice in a khaki fitted woollen coat, thick grey tights and flat leather boots, Ben in a sheepskin coat, faded jeans and chunky Timberlands. They did their best to ignore the fact that we were even there.
I was enjoying myself. I had my photographer’s head on and had managed to detach myself completely from who I was photographing. My main focus was making sure the shots all looked good through the camera, that they were framed nicely by the sparse trees and river, and that I was positioning myself correctly so that I could capture them at their best. I was relieved to be finding it so easy.
Walking along we eventually came to a pretty bend in the river, offering a great view of London’s skyline in the far distance. I instantly knew it would be a lovely spot to get a few more posed shots, if they were keen.
‘Okay, shall we just stop here a second?’ I called, getting out of the way of a nosy group of elderly people who had been trailing behind us, trying their best to see what we were up to.
‘I was thinking you guys should rest against here,’ I said, tapping the barrier by the river. ‘It’ll be great to get some close-up stills – I think we’ve nailed the whole romantic walking thing now. You’re pros at that.’
‘What should we do?’ asked Alice as she jumped into position, holding her arm out for Ben to walk into, eager to get going straight away.
‘Pose like you’re in love,’ joked Robert.
‘Thank you,’ I said, shooting him a warning look to shut up, knowing his input would deter us from what was going on. ‘Just snuggle into each other a bit. We can do some of you looking at one another, away dreamily into the distance as you contemplate your lifetime of happiness together and then a few down the lens.’
I ignored Robert as he scoffed next to me. That jargon usually worked for others, but I’d forgotten I had Mr Romance-Is-For-Pansies stood by my side … although it probably was a bit much.
I raised my camera back to my face, ready to start shooting again. And that’s where it all got a bit awkward. Whereas before Ben had looked comfortable, he’d suddenly become rigid and stiff, clumsily not knowing where to put his hands or where to look. He was far from relaxed. Seeing as he kept stealing glances in Robert’s direction and cracking jokes it looked like it was just because he was embarr
assed posing in the romantic way I was after.
After they’d burst out laughing for the fifth time I lowered my camera and just raised my eyebrows at them both, willing them to stop.
‘Guys!’
‘What?’ Robert asked innocently, trying his best to keep a straight face.
‘Five more minutes then we’re done. Can you save being idiots until then?’
‘Just forget we’re here,’ smirked Robert.
‘It’s a bit hard with that clicking going off,’ Ben moaned, pointing at the camera.
‘Nothing I can do about that I’m afraid. It’s the shutter,’ I shrugged, becoming impatient with the pair of them.
‘This is just weird …’ he grumbled uncharacteristically.
‘Hey,’ Alice cooed, grabbing hold of Ben’s coat and pulling him into her, dragging his attention away from what was bothering him. ‘Close your eyes.’
Without saying a word he sighed and did as she said. I was sure he was going to burst out laughing again, but as Alice raised her head and rubbed her nose gently against his chin, his face started to soften.
‘I love you,’ she whispered after a moment or two, smiling contentedly at him.
Ben opened his eyes slowly and looked at his beautiful wife-to-be, his eyes full of doe-eyed love as his face expanded in a smile.
His secret smile.
But that time, it was for her.
Not me.
That was it. As the sun reflected off the water’s peaks to make enchanting shapes of light dance majestically behind them, adding to the dazzling beauty of the moment, I took one single shot.
It was the perfect picture of the perfect couple, full of admiration, devotion and completeness. It was full of love – simple, pure and uncomplicated.
Ben
Twenty-four years old …
I’d never been very spontaneous when it came to love. I’d also never been able to show myself off as much of a romantic either. I’d always had too many feelings that I’d had to lock away, to hide, to avoid indulging in or risk exposing a one-sided love. What I loved about being with Alice was that I could feel something and declare it straight away. I didn’t have to think it through carefully or hold anything back – I’d feel it and I could say it. It was that easy. Unfortunately, as I realized too late, it led me to make big gestures, like proposing, before I’d had a chance to think it through properly.
It took me a few weeks to realize I’d made a terrible mistake by asking Alice to marry me. The more I thought about it, the more certain I became of its error.
There was no doubting that Alice was a wonderful woman. She came along and unknowingly saved my heart from utter torment – she gave me hope and made my world a little brighter each day she was in it. But I couldn’t marry her. The heart she’d helped to mend wouldn’t let me, no matter how much I tried to convince it otherwise.
It might have taken days for me to regret, but sadly, it took me six months to rectify. We had by that point already booked the church for the following summer, a little place in Essex near where she grew up, and Alice was on the verge of going out with her mum and best friend to find her wedding dress. It was at that point I decided I couldn’t have her trying on those gowns knowing that I was doubtful about the whole thing and that, irrevocably, we weren’t going to be getting married. There was no way I could ruin that special moment for her – I wanted her to be able to enjoy it one day in the future, when she did eventually marry someone who deserved her. Not someone who’d used her as some diversion tactic to get over his own hankering existence.
She was sitting on the sofa, looking through the bridal magazines that had littered our flat for the last six months, when I broke the news to her. I hovered in front of her for a few moments before the words found their way, from the loop they’d been circling in my head, out of my mouth.
‘I don’t want to get married,’ I said.
There was no way I could dress the issue up, or find an easier way to say it. I didn’t want to be one of those guys who find faults in their relationships by blaming her for things she hadn’t done as I pushed her away, or picking pointless fights in the hope that she would call the whole thing off. I knew Alice was perfect, and I’d meant it every time I told her I loved her, but that didn’t change the fact that I didn’t want to marry her. I couldn’t marry her.
She froze.
She sat there, staring at the magazine as though she was trapped in its world of pretty dresses, blossoming flowers and a forever love, the world I’d promised her months before, but was snatching away from her so abruptly.
‘Did you hear me?’ It was a stupid question. I knew she’d heard. I just wanted to fill the silence, to get the agonizing moment over with, to stop it from lingering any longer than necessary. ‘I don’t want to get married.’
A wave of heat worked its way up my back and to my cheeks, burning them as I waited for her to react.
‘What do you mean?’ she asked quietly, her eyes still on the page in front of her.
‘What I said,’ I swallowed hard, forcing myself to stay strong. ‘I don’t want to get married.’
‘Do you not like the church?’ she asked feebly, her voice thin and panicked. ‘Because we can change that. Or if it’s the cost, we can invite fewer people. I don’t mind doing that. It doesn’t have to be anything big, as long as it’s you and m –’
‘It’s nothing to do with any of that,’ I said firmly and quickly, stopping her from coming up with more petty reasons for my sudden change of heart. Hating myself, I repeated the words – as though she hadn’t heard it enough times already. ‘I just don’t want to get married.’
Slowly she closed the magazine, its pages fanning noisily in protest as their offerings were sent into darkness, banished from our lives and from the perished Gilbert/Turner wedding. Her hands moved to cover the face of the glowing bride on its cover, as though her gloating happiness mocked Alice in her misery.
‘Then why did you ask me?’
‘Because I thought I did. Then.’
Her tiny frame seemed smaller and more fragile than ever as I watched my words smash away at her heart.
‘What’s changed?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Tell me,’ she said, looking up, her glistening eyes boring into mine as tears made their escape, rolling down her cheeks. ‘What have I done since then to make you think otherwise?’
‘Nothing.’
‘I must’ve done something.’
‘You haven’t.’
‘Is it just marriage you’re suddenly opposed to? Or is it a lifetime with me?’
‘It’s not like that.’
‘But you don’t want to be with me.’
It wasn’t a question – it was a statement. I faltered at hearing her say it out loud. It sounded so cold, so final. For a moment I wanted to take it back, to retrieve what had been said, but I couldn’t. I knew, whether I told her then or at the altar, I wouldn’t be marrying Alice Turner. My heart wouldn’t let me marry into a lie that I’d let fester for long enough already.
‘Alice, I think the world of you. I love you.’
‘Don’t say that. Please, Ben, don’t you dare say that.’
‘But I do. It’s true. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.’
‘Except marry me,’ she jeered sadly, raising her eyebrows, defying me to contest her words. ‘Or be with me.’
‘Alice …’
‘Is there someone else?’ she asked curtly, cutting me off.
‘Of course not.’
‘You sure? There’s not some girl who’s caught your attention at work? Made you think twice about being stuck with me?’
‘No.’
‘Then why don’t you want to marry me? If there’s no one else and you love me, why don’t you want to be with me any more?’
‘Because it’s not what I want.’
‘And what do you want?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Why are
you doing this to me?’ she screamed, furious with my lack of substantial responses. She hurled the mocking magazine at me, the corner of its bind catching me on my forehead, cutting it and making it bleed.
‘I’m so sorry, Alice,’ I shouted back.
‘Sorry you ever asked?’
‘No.’
‘Then what for?’
‘For hurting you. I never wanted to do that.’
‘You saying that doesn’t make it any less cruel,’ she spat. ‘You’re still breaking my heart and making me look like a complete fool.’
I hated that I’d turned the most happy, bubbly and loving girl I’d ever met into such a ball of anger – it was yet another failure to add to my ever-growing list of mistakes.
Robert was the only one who’d known that I was calling my wedding off and ending things with Alice. I’d phoned him the morning I planned to do it.
I’d been in our bedroom, surrounded by her things and pictures of us together with giddy faces on various holidays, funny trips and that picture, when I’d had an overwhelming urge to leave – to just walk out and avoid the confrontation as I broke her heart. The desire was so strong I knew I had no choice but to talk to her that night. Something had snapped inside me and I was worried that if I didn’t act quickly my longing simply to flee would become a reality. I didn’t want that.
Leaving our room, our home, I wandered into Victoria Park and walked round in circles for hours. Surprisingly, there weren’t many thoughts spiralling around in my head, it seemed it had made its mind up. Instead it numbed my doubt and affirmed the end of our relationship.
At lunchtime, when I knew Robert would be at his desk and not in lessons, I sat on a bench by the vast lake at the bottom of the park, pulled out my phone and called him.
I needed to hear the words said out loud, before I said them to Alice, and the only person in my life who would not judge me for saying them or for making the decision was Robert.
You're the One That I Want Page 23
