The Best Thing That Never Happened to Me

by Laura Tait

  ‘Hey.’ I slap her arm, though I’m secretly glad she’s facing the other way as it will make this easier to say.

  ‘So, I realized I’m in love with Alex and—’

  ‘I knew it!’ She spins back round to face me. ‘It was so obvious. That’s why this Richard revelation totally threw me because I knew you and Alex are totally in love.’

  ‘That’s just it, though, Jem. He’s not. I thought for a moment he might feel the same way so I went to see him the day I left Richard, but I was wrong. He wants to be with Melissa, and he didn’t really give a shit when I told him I was leaving and I haven’t even heard from him since.’

  Fresh tears come. Jemma pulls a face.

  ‘I don’t believe it.’ She sighs, sounding genuinely disappointed. ‘I was sure he was into you. You should see the way he looks at you when you’re not looking. And I don’t know what he sees in Melissa – that bitch has got even worse recently. She screamed at me in front of everyone for forgetting to book the meeting room for her yesterday. I hope her next shite’s a hedgehog. But you know what, Holly? Screw Alex! And screw Richard, too. As in to hell with them – not as in bone them both. Your trip sounds amazing and you’re going to be off tangoing with handsome South American men and flirting outrageously with hot Australian surfers and you’ll forget all about the pair of them.’

  ‘I’m not going away to find a man.’ I wipe the tears from my cheek with the back of my hand. ‘I’m going to—’

  ‘Holly, if you’re about to tell me you’re going to find yourself I’ll punch you in the face and then be sick on you.’

  ‘I wasn’t going to say that,’ I laugh. ‘But I kinda am. I just want to get excited about stuff again, and have new experiences, and do things for me and not for anyone else.’

  ‘You’re bound to get laid, though.’ She grins. ‘Long as you don’t cry in front of them.’

  ‘I honestly haven’t thought about it.’

  We sit in comfortable silence for a moment or two, then I glance sideways at her. ‘I’m glad we’re OK, Jem. When you didn’t reply to my email I was scared you would never talk to me again.’

  ‘Well, considering I’ve been here for forty-five minutes and you havenae made me tea yet, it’s still a distinct possibility.’

  I get up and make us some weak tea – I’ve only one teabag left and just a splash of milk – and return to the living room, where Jemma sits looking thoughtful.

  ‘I need to do it too really,’ she says distractedly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Something. Anything. Just not resign myself to spending every day doing stuff for Martin Cooper.’

  ‘Is that what you do?’ I smirk. ‘Really?’

  ‘All right, smart-arse. Fine – I don’t want to resign myself to spending every day realizing I’ve forgotten to do stuff for Martin Cooper.’

  ‘You should come with me!’

  ‘Nah, I can’t be seen in a bikini until I’ve lost two stone, and then there’s—’ She stops abruptly, like she’s said too much, and sips her tea.

  ‘Then there’s what?’ When she doesn’t answer I shove her shoulder lightly, but she continues to drink her tea, so I shove it harder. ‘Jemma – tell me. Is it a man?’

  ‘No, not a man exactly.’ She averts her eyes downwards, coyly, but the corners of her mouth twitch. ‘Danny.’

  ‘Oh my God, I forgot you snogged him. So is that a thing now?’

  I pull myself up into a kneeling position, facing her. This is the best distraction I’ve had in ages, and I realize how much I’ll miss Jemma and her love life updates when I’m away.

  ‘Well, it depends what you mean by “thing”. We haven’t had that conversation yet – so I don’t know if we’re a couple or anything. But we ended up kissing after the quiz again last week after everyone else had left, and then last night he asked if I fancied going for a drink after work and as soon as he got back to the table after he bought the first round, he kissed me. We hadn’t even touched our drinks yet. I can’t remember the last time I’ve kissed anyone sober. That has to mean something, right?’

  ‘Yeah, I’d say so,’ I affirm.

  ‘You know it’s weird, Holly,’ she says slowly, ‘but he’s the first guy in ages I’ve just been myself around on a date. I mean, what’s the point of me pretending to be cool to Danny? He knows me. And it’s the most relaxed I’ve ever felt with a guy.’

  ‘Jemma, you’re VERY cool when you’re being yourself. That’s why Danny likes you – he knows the real you.’

  ‘Whatever. I’m going to miss you, Holly,’ she says, suddenly looking serious. I pull her in for a hug and after a few moments I hear her sniff into my shoulder, like she’s about to cry.

  ‘No, don’t.’ I sniff too. ‘You’ll set me off again.’

  ‘Right, I’m definitely getting out of here before that happens.’ She jumps up and drains the last of her tea, before handing me back the mug. ‘That tasted like pish by the way.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  ‘Send me postcards,’ she shouts from the gate as I wave her off.

  I look at my card properly for the first time, smiling at my former colleagues’ farewell messages. There’s something from everyone except Richard and Melissa. Richard I get, but what’s Melissa’s problem? I put the card up onto the mantelpiece, next to three other farewell cards from Leah, Susie and my folks.

  Nothing from Alex. As much as I’m so glad Jemma came over, and going away will be a million times easier knowing we’re still mates, I allow myself to acknowledge that, for just a split second when I saw her at the door, I was disappointed it wasn’t Alex.

  Romantic feelings aside, I have never felt more myself since he’s been back in my life. It’s not like I realized I wasn’t being myself – I wasn’t trying to pretend to be someone else, like Jemma admitted to doing on her dates. But it’s like I forgot who I used to be. I’ve had such a downer on my days in Mothston because of the way they ended that I never remembered that, for a long time, my teenage years were my happiest years.

  Maybe that’s the universe’s reason for hurtling Alex back into my life – not to stay there, but to remind me of who I was and who I still want to be. It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t call. It doesn’t matter if we lose touch again. It’s sad but, let’s face it, I’m used to being let down by men in my life. Maybe it’s time to start expecting less.

  I take out my mobile and glance at it one last time and feel the desperation for it to ring evaporate from my body.

  Then it only goes and rings, scaring the bejesus out of me, so that I toss my phone in the air and catch it again.

  ‘Hello?’ I gasp at the unknown caller.

  ‘Holly, it’s me.’

  The voice is male, but it only takes milliseconds to register that it’s not the one I’d been hoping for.

  ‘Oh. Hello, Richard.’

  The anonymity should have given it away – I’ve been ignoring his calls since I stormed out of his office. The last one was three days ago and I figured he’d given up.

  ‘How are you?’ I ask awkwardly, after a few seconds’ silence. It would be easier if I was angry at him. Then I could just tell him to go eff himself and hang up. But I don’t feel angry. I just feel really, really stupid. I’ve replayed our relationship in my head countless times over the last week and I can’t believe I let him string me along for that long. He was never going to commit to me.

  ‘Not great. I miss you, Holly.’

  ‘Rich,’ I sigh.

  ‘No, hear me out. I have to admit, I was furious with you at first for storming out of my office like that. But I’ve thought about it and, well, you might have had a point. I’ll admit, maybe I have been a bit unfair.’

  ‘That’s big of you.’ Is it bad if I just hang up and turn my phone off?

  ‘I guess I was embarrassed for people to find out—’

  ‘Why, thanks.’

  ‘You know what I mean. Because I’m your boss.’

  �
�WAS my boss.’

  ‘Exactly. Now that everyone knows anyway, and I’m not your boss any more, I really think we can make this work. I love you, Holly.’

  Those last words make me take a sharp in-breath. Despite myself, my heart flutters at the words I’ve been waiting so long for him to say to me.

  ‘It’s too late,’ I stammer, sliding down the wall and onto the floor. I can feel my temples throbbing so I shut my eyes and rest my forehead on my knees. ‘My flight is booked, and I’ve given up my flat.’

  ‘Bloody hell, Holly. That was quick.’

  ‘I’m organized like that. I’d make a marvellous PA.’

  ‘I’ll give you the money for your ticket – and you can come and live with me.’

  Why is he saying all this now? When I’ve been waiting for what seems like for ever to hear some sort of promise of commitment from him, why does he wait until I’m sitting here – wanting something completely different – to tell me he loves me, and he wants to have the sort of relationship I’ve been trying to have with him all this time.

  ARE YOU KIDDING ME, GOD?

  Maybe I could go back to being the person I was a few weeks ago, who loved Richard and wanted the life he’s promising now. Can I really have changed so much in the last few weeks? Realizing too late what it is that I want seems to be my forte, so what if I get to Bangkok and decide that I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life?

  ‘Um . . . Holly? You still there?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m here,’ I whisper. ‘Sorry, Rich – this is a bit of a headfuck. I need to think about this. Can I call you back?’

  ‘Why don’t I come over?’ he says quickly. ‘We can talk it through and—’

  ‘No,’ I interrupt, my voice breaking. ‘I need to think about this by myself. I’m just too confused.’

  I hang up the phone and burst into tears. I’ve never cried so much in one day. When did life get so fucking difficult? What happened to the days when I used to just have fun and take things as they come, and when making a wrong decision didn’t seem like the worst thing in the world? I give in to the tears, wrapping my arms around my legs and sobbing into my elbow. And I cry and cry, thinking about Richard, and about Alex, and about Max, and even about Dean. I cry until I feel all cried out, and I feel weirdly soothed when I’m done.

  I stand up and look around the room, at boxes filled with my stuff, at my passport lying on top of my rucksack with a plane ticket poking out from its pages, at Harold crawling across the mantelpiece and systematically knocking each farewell card onto the floor.

  Then I look at my To Do list – with its big headers and multicoloured sub-sections and neat score-throughs and six-month schedule – and rip it up, tossing the scraps back onto the floor.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  ALEX

  It takes several elongated seconds for the doors to wheeze open, but as soon as my feet hit the platform it strikes me. A feeling that causes a smile to dawn across my face. A feeling that I’m home.

  ‘You look rough,’ is how Kev greets me, along with a sideways handshake that becomes a hug.

  He invites me with a vertical swoosh of his arms to check out his suit. It’s dark grey and fits him well. The knot of a racing-green tie is bulbous but straight.

  ‘Selling catalogue goods door to door,’ he says self-deprecatingly. ‘Hardly the dream, is it?’

  I feel a surge of guilt. Have I ever even asked Kev what he dreams of doing?

  ‘It’s not for ever, though, eh?’ I say, drawing my hands into my sleeves and shivering against the cold weather that arrived this week.

  ‘Who knows? I just want to save enough money for a deposit on a house for me and Diane.’

  We navigate through town, past the discount store that used to be Woolworths, and past The White Horse, which is under new management.

  ‘I put my vinyl on eBay. Even Pink Floyd, till she made me take it off.’

  ‘She sounds like a keeper.’

  He beams. ‘I’m looking forward to you meeting her.’

  We take a left up George Street. If we were to follow the road to its end we’d reach the canal where my dad sometimes lives, but in a moment we’ll turn right up a street I know better than any other.

  ‘I’m pleased things are coming together for you, mate,’ I say, spying a Vauxhall estate parked in the driveway. An anonymous silhouette appears behind new coral curtains in my parents’ room. It feels like I’ve seen an ex-girlfriend holding hands with a new man.

  Kev watches me watching my old house. ‘You couldn’t wait to get away from this place and now look at you, all maudlin at seeing someone else in there.’

  I force myself to stop staring and we continue down the street towards Kev’s.

  ‘My parents are thinking of finally selling up themselves,’ he says. ‘They need a few bob now the property boom’s over in Spain, so I could be out on my ear. Guess this thing with Diane has happened at the right time.’

  It’s only when I catch sight of Kev’s downstairs curtains, shaded and drawn, that I remember why I’m here. He rotates his key in the front door and I have to try really hard not to give the game away with a grin. He steps inside and, upon turning into the living room and switching on the light, is confronted by dozens of friends and family, most of them wearing masks of Kev’s face.

  ‘SURPRISE!’

  His expression unchanged by the hullaballoo, he turns to me.

  ‘I see they only invited good-looking people,’ he says, and then finally breaks into a toothy smile as everyone laughs and cheers.

  I hold out my hand, and this time it’s me who turns the shake into a hug. ‘Happy birthday, mate.’

  ‘So how’s London?’ says Rothers.

  Both he and Megs have a glaze of awe on their faces. It’s obviously affected for my benefit – they’re far too happy to feel envy.

  ‘Really good,’ I say, hoping that will be enough to satisfy them. I don’t want to think about London tonight.

  ‘New job going well?’

  ‘Yep, loving it.’

  Megs chips in: ‘Got your head round the Underground yet?’

  ‘Not yet,’ I say, forcing a laugh. ‘But I’m getting there.’

  Rothers wants to know if everything is as expensive as they make out. I tell them it is.

  ‘How much is a pint, then?’ he persists.

  ‘Depends. You struggle to get a drink for less than four quid.’

  They glance at one another, open-mouthed, and I use the pause to excuse myself, telling them I need to get changed and that we’ll catch up properly later.

  The party has barely started but the bathroom already stinks. I scour shelves and the windowsill for air freshener but find none. Inspecting my face in the mirror, I see that Kev was right – I look rough. My lips are dry and colourless, and a dark wing has formed under each eye. I force a smile, and it produces whiskers of wrinkles on the flanks of my face. They don’t fade immediately. I wonder whether my own perception is warped or if this is how people really see me. For the first time in my life I feel old.

  I change my shirt and shave and by the time I unlock the door, there is a woman leaning against the landing wall, waiting.

  ‘You must be Alex?’ she says, extending her hand, and because she can see that I’m still unsure, she introduces herself. I should have guessed, because if there ever was a girl who matched Kev’s type, then Diane is it: petite, blonde and a chest that threatens to rip the torso of her top.

  ‘I’ve heard a lot about you,’ I tell her. She really doesn’t look like the kind of girl who collects snow globes.

  ‘Well, don’t believe anything that twat says,’ she says, releasing the kind of guffaw you might hear in a Carry On film.

  She slides past me into the bathroom and, just as I’m preparing to navigate a daisy chain of girls sitting on the stairs, yells something about the pong, which she obviously thinks I’m responsible for. I go to explain but am waylaid by Kev.

  ‘Can you belie
ve she did this for me?’ he says, choking a little. ‘My little Fledermaus.’

  ‘Fledermaus?’

  He nods, as if no explanation is required. It’s only when he looks up to see my confusion that he adds: ‘It’s what Germans call bats. It’s our pet name.’

  I let it go. It wouldn’t feel right taking the mickey out of him tonight, not when he’s so happy. And Diane really has done him proud, getting all his friends here and decorating the house with photos of Kev as a kid for his embarrassment and our amusement. Right now he is staring at a shot of me and him aged nine or ten, before Holly moved to Mothston. We’re holding fishing nets and jam jars.

  Kev seems confused. ‘What were we doing here?’

  ‘Well, you were wearing a bright green shell suit, for starters.’

  ‘Let’s not get started on fashion, Noel. What were the nets and jars for?’

  ‘We were trying to catch ghosts.’

  The memory takes a moment to reform in his mind. ‘Did we catch any?’

  ‘None at all.’

  I take the photo in my hand and wonder how we went from kids catching ghosts to what we are now. I barely recognize myself.

  ‘Diane seems lovely,’ I say, trying to forget the photo.

  ‘She is.’

  The Kev I once knew would have blushed at such talk but the only emotion displayed on his face is pride.

  ‘Do you know when I realized that I loved her?’ he says. It’s a rhetorical question. ‘I’ve got this test, and no one has ever passed except Diane.’

  ‘A test?’

  ‘I image their hair falling out. I imagine them bald, and I think to myself, if that happened, would I still want to be with them. And you know what, Al, I would. I’d still want to be with Diane. And if anyone gawped at her shiny head, I’d punch them in the teeth.’

  I’ve never heard Kev talk like this, and I smile affectionately at him as we absorb the party. It doesn’t feel so different from the parties people used to throw whenever their parents were out of town. Rothers and Megs are still glued to the sofa, still lost in their own private world after all this time. Even the smells are the same. The whiff of perfume as everyone arrives submitting to the whiff of pastry and meat when the nibbles are served. I expect the smell of spilt lager will soon rule, and by the end of the night we could be holding our noses amid the stench of vomit on carpet.