We order two pints of generic lager and find a quiet corner as far away from Helen as possible.
“No sign of Tessa then?” Dave asks.
“No. Are you sure your informant is reliable?”
“Yeah, he was positive she was coming. She doesn’t live round here anymore so maybe she’s missed her train or something.”
If Tessa fails to show, this would turn-out to be the utter waste of time that I’d envisaged.
“On the upside though, I haven’t seen Marcus either,” Dave adds.
“True. If he was here, we’d certainly know about it.”
As we toy with the idea of going back to the pub, two men approach us.
“Alright Craig, Dave. How’s it going?”
Barry Walker and Ross Glavin were part of our small circle of friends at school, but I haven’t seen either of them in years. Barry, the shorter of the two, is wearing a creased white shirt and brown cords. His curly black hair is tinged with grey at the temples, and he’s now sporting a pair of red spectacles. Ross obviously misunderstood the casual dress code, and is wearing a navy blazer, white dress shirt and beige chinos. His blond hair is slicked across his head, with a severe side parting. Both men could not look more middle-aged if they tried.
We shake hands and spend ten tedious minutes updating one another on our humdrum lives. Both Barry and Ross have travelled down the same predictable path of marriage, kids, suburban house and mundane careers. But unlike me, they both seem happy with their lot in life. The tedium continues as mobile phones are pulled from pockets to proudly show-off pictures of gurning offspring and vanilla wives, all greeted with feigned interest.
It transpires that Barry works for an engineering company that produces aircraft components, while Ross is a pensions advisor. Both men wrongly assume we’d like to hear about their careers in more detail. Until this point, I never knew it was possible for boredom to induce actual pain. As they drone on relentlessly, and we nod politely, I gaze across to the dance floor where Helen has cajoled a handful of women to join her. The DJ sees this as an opportunity to ratchet things up a level and plays ‘Venus’ by Bananarama. The six women, possibly fuelled with too much Prosecco, shuffle around the dance floor while waving their arms around like they’re trying to swat a wasp.
Ross pulls my attention back to our little circle.
“Have you made any pension provisions, Craig?”
I glance across at Dave, who has taken a few steps backwards beyond the sight line of Ross and Barry. He mouths the word ‘bar’ and sneaks off, leaving me to deal with the boredom brothers on my own.
“No, I haven’t,” I reply with obvious lack of interest.
My eyes move back to the dance floor where Helen and her dance troupe are now reaching a state of sweaty hysteria. Barry picks up on Ross’s pension question and asks him a question of his own.
“Could I pick your brains about an annuity?” he asks.
Ross doesn’t need asking twice as he launches into a spiel about his dealings with annuities. With both men engaged in a conversation so mind-numbingly boring I actually feel slightly sick, I decide enough is enough. I’m just about to excuse myself when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I spin around and stood before me is a dark-haired woman with caramel eyes.
“Hello you,” she says with a smile.
4
“Tessa, Hi. You look amazing,” I splutter — and she does.
She’s wearing a shoulderless white dress that contrasts with her tanned skin. Her hair is longer, and there are a few faint lines at the corners of her eyes, but apart from that, she looks precisely like the picture I’ve carried in my mind for the last three decades. She leans in and kisses me on the cheek. I take the chance to inhale the sweet smell of her perfume. No hint of Opal Fruits, something a little more sophisticated these days.
“It’s really lovely to see you, Craig. Fancy grabbing a seat and having a catch-up?”
Brian and Ross are engrossed in their annuity discussion, so I don’t bother excusing myself. Tessa and I leave them to it, and we take a seat at a table as far away from the dance floor as possible.
We go through the motions of updating one another about what we’ve been up to for the last thirty years. Tessa tells me she’s now a director for a digital marketing company in London and has her own apartment in Chiswick, overlooking the river. She talks enthusiastically about her times living in Rome, Paris and San Francisco. About the amazing things she’s seen, and the incredible people she’s met. It sounds like an extraordinary and fulfilling life, completely removed from mine. I feel a pang of shame when I compare what Tessa has achieved to my stagnant existence.
Fifteen minutes into our conversation and one thing is clear — if Tessa was out of my league in school, she’s now Champions League while I’m Sunday Pub League, such is the gulf in our respective lives. Then Tessa smacks the final nail into my coffin of unrealistic hopes.
“Have you heard of a band called Jessico?” she asks.
My knowledge of modern music is limited to the Radio 2 playlist, and even then I’d struggle to name many bands.
“No, can’t say I have.”
“They’ve had a few top-40 hits in the UK, but they’re massive in Europe and had number-one singles in France, Germany and Holland.”
I nod politely, unsure why this is relevant to anything.
“Anyway, the rather scrummy lead singer is a guy called Harry Parker, and guess what?”
I look at her blankly.
“We’re getting married at Christmas, I’m just so excited,” she squeals.
I can’t say I’m surprised. Tessa marrying the lead singer of a semi-famous band makes perfect sense. Tessa harbouring feelings for the chubby manager of an electrical store makes absolutely no sense.
“Congratulations Tessa, I’m really pleased for you,” I smile through gritted teeth.
Tessa continues to tell me about the plans for her dream wedding, but I don’t listen to a word of it. Noting my apparent lack of interest, she stops mid-way through a sentence.
“You okay, Craig?” she asks sympathetically.
I smile back at her.
“Yeah, sure. Just been a long day that’s all.”
“Sorry, my bad. I know you boys find wedding stuff boring. Harry is already sick and tired of hearing about it. Let’s consider that subject closed shall we?”
Before I can reply, a more serious expression crosses her face.
“Actually Craig, there is something else I wanted to talk to you about.”
I give her a quizzical look.
“It’s a bit awkward really, but something I’ve thought about a lot.”
“I’m listening, go on.”
“That afternoon in my bedroom, after you fixed Kevin’s computer, I behaved appallingly. You probably never gave it another thought, and I’m going to embarrass myself here, but I feel I need to apologise.”
I almost choke on her assumption I never gave that afternoon another thought. If only she knew.
“There’s really no need, Tessa. If anyone should apologise, it’s me. It wasn’t my finest hour.”
“No, it was selfish and inconsiderate of me, but I appreciate your understanding. I honestly didn’t set out to use you Craig, but I was pretty messed-up back then.”
Tessa sits back in her chair and brushes a strand of hair from her face. She takes a large gulp of her drink and drops a bombshell.
“Did you know I was only fourteen when I lost my virginity?” she asks.
“Christ, no I didn’t,” I reply with genuine surprise.
“To make matters worse, the arsehole dumped me afterwards. Things started to go downhill from that point. I tried to redress the balance by screwing around with boys, both emotionally and literally, I’m afraid. By the time I reached sixteen, I must have slept with...well, let’s just say it was too many lads. It was a reckless way to behave, but I thought sex was an easy way to get things I wanted, and in your case, a way to repay a
debt.”
Her final words were delivered in such a throwaway manner, I thought I’d misheard her.
“Sorry, debt? What debt did you have to me?”
“You helped my brother to fix his computer of course,” she casually replies.
A cold dagger of realisation stabs me in the chest.
“You had sex with me because I helped your brother to load a computer game?” I ask, almost in disbelief.
She eyes me with confusion.
“Sorry Craig, I always assumed that you knew. It sounds stupid now, but at the time I thought I was doing you a favour. I thought it was what you wanted.”
“Are you serious? You took my virginity Tessa, and you’re now telling me it was a charity shag?”
I slump back in my chair and try to process Tessa’s revelation. Now she’s said it, everything makes sense. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before now.
“Shit, this isn’t what I wanted to get into. I honestly thought you understood why we got together that afternoon. What did you think I was apologising for if not for that?”
I feel stupid. Stupid and angry.
“You realise your favour pretty much destroyed my life, don’t you?”
Her stance changes, the apologetic face takes on a more indignant look.
“Come on, let’s get some perspective here. We were both kids, and if I recall correctly, you were a willing participant. I am sorry for the part I played, but you could have stopped it at any point — but you wanted me, so you didn’t, did you? I admit my motives were screwed up, but I didn’t have the emotional maturity to think about it any other way. And please don’t play the victim because my life was pretty fucked-up back then too.”
We sit in silence as I let Tessa’s retort sink in. She makes a compelling argument, and if I’m honest, it never crossed my mind that maybe Tessa was carrying baggage of her own from our teenage years. I look into her puppy-dog eyes and see nothing other than sincerity.
My anger slips away, but the stupidity remains. While that afternoon was the catalyst, every subsequent turn in my life was my fault, and my fault alone. I chose to wallow in self-pity rather than deal with my emotions. I chose to obey my father and not re-sit my exams. I chose to stick in a dead-end job for years. I chose to marry Megan through duty, rather than love. I chose to work in a bloody electrical store for most of my life. Tessa had been kicked much harder than I was, and at a much younger age, yet she hadn’t let that define her. She’d forged an impressive career, an enviable life, and found happiness with somebody she loved.
My shit decisions, my shit life. Tessa wasn’t to blame.
“You’re right Tessa, I’m sorry.”
She gives me that killer smile.
“Still friends?”
I nod.
“Yep, still friends.”
With Tessa having absolved herself, I get the impression our conversation is nearing its end. We make small talk for a few minutes, both waiting for the other to make an excuse and leave the table. Then just as the situation becomes a little awkward, a third person joins us.
“Thought I might find you two together. Planning a more intimate reunion of your own for later are we?” Marcus sneers.
I shoot a glance at Tessa. Her eyes are shut and her lips pursed as if she’s been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
“What the hell are you on about, Marcus?” I reply with beer-fuelled bluster.
“Oh Pelling, did Tessa not mention she told me about your little soirée back in the day?”
I feel sick. Tessa agreed that we wouldn’t tell anyone about our afternoon together. And of all the people she could have told, Marcus would be the last person I’d want to know.
“You told him, Tessa? Why?” I snap.
Her cheeks turn red, possibly with anger, possibly with embarrassment, likely both. Tessa then gets up and stands a few feet in front of Marcus. She’s at least a foot shorter than him, but that doesn’t appear to phase her as she unleashes a stinging response to his comment.
“Listen you pathetic little man, I’m not in the slightest bit intimidated by you. I may have been once, but that girl is long gone. So, I suggest you take your snide comments, and fuck right off.”
Marcus is clearly taken aback at Tessa’s outburst, but can’t be seen to lose face.
“Calm down darling, time of the month is it?” he retaliates, then looks around to see if anyone caught his witty retort. With the music blaring, nobody is paying us any attention.
Marcus turns to me.
“I wouldn’t consider yourself too special anyway, Pelling. She’ll probably work her way through most of the men in here by the end of the evening. Old habits die hard, don’t they Tessa?”
It appears Marcus has lit a fuse, and Tessa blows.
“Well, if I do decide to fuck every man in here, I’m fairly sure every single one of them will be able to get an erection; something you failed miserably to do if I recall. Now, if you don’t get out of my face this second, I'll go up to the stage, grab the microphone and tell everyone in this hall how Marcus Morrison couldn’t get his tiny penis hard for the hottest girl in school.”
The twisted smirk on Marcus’s face fades in an instant. His lips move, as if he’s about to say something, but the words don’t come. His face contorts, he mumbles something unintelligible, then storms off.
Tessa watches him depart, her face still like thunder.
“Don’t suppose you care to tell me what the hell just happened?” I ask.
She regains her seat and her composure.
“God Craig, I don’t know where to start.”
“Maybe at the part where you broke your promise by telling Marcus about us?” I suggest.
She takes another large swig of her drink and sits forward.
“It’s not like you think Craig. I told him about us, but it wasn’t exactly an honest account.”
“What do you mean?”
“Long story short. A few weeks after you and I had our afternoon together, I did something incredibly stupid. You know what Marcus was like at school, he was manipulative and controlling. Anyway, he’d been pestering me to hook up with him for months, and he finally persuaded me to go over to his house one afternoon. As you probably just gathered, it didn’t go well as Marcus couldn’t get it up, so nothing happened.”
I couldn’t help but smile to myself at this revelation, but it didn’t answer my question.
“As amusing as it is, I don’t see why Marcus’s erectile dysfunction meant you had to tell him about us?”
“I’m coming to that. Just before I left his house, he said that if I told anyone about his inability to perform, he’d make Kevin’s life hell. I was livid that Marcus was threatening my little brother, so I sort of told him you’d screwed me senseless a few weeks earlier. I probably went a bit too far and said you were the best shag I’d ever had. I knew it would be a major dent to his ego to hear that the school computer nerd could satisfy me when he couldn’t even get an erection. Please understand that I wanted to hurt Marcus, not you.”
A dozen tiny switches suddenly flick, and a glowing light of realisation shines. This is why Marcus acts like such a über-arsehole towards me. Those obscure comments he made at the end of our meeting on Wednesday now make perfect sense. His threat to close our branch is just Marcus’s petty and vindictive retribution for being humiliated thirty years ago.
“Did you know that Marcus is now my boss?”
A look of horror passes across Tessa’s face.
“Oh god, I had no idea. If I’d known I wouldn’t have said anything. I’m so sorry.”
“To be honest, I’m relieved you never told him what actually happened. I may not have a job next week, but at least I’ll still have a modicum of dignity left.”
“Thank you for being so understanding.”
Tessa reaches across the table and puts her hand on mine.
“I will never let people like Marcus have control over me, and neither should y
ou. You’re ten times the man he is, remember that.”
We stand and Tessa gives me another kiss on the cheek. Then with a token promise to stay in touch, she flutters off to chat with her former classmates.
Part of me wants to leave and go home. The only reason I was here at all was because of Tessa, but with that part of my life firmly put to bed, there seems precious little point in hanging around. Another part of me wants to get blind drunk. I decide to find Dave and go with the blind drunk option, but not before I make yet another trip to the toilets.
I make my way back through the double doors into the reception area and push open the door to the gents’ toilets. There are four empty urinals on the wall to my right, and two cubicles at the rear, one of which is occupied, judging by the grunts from within. I approach the nearest urinal and fumble with the stiff buttons on my new jeans as the cubicle occupant empties his bowels. A foul stench wafts across the room, and just as I’m about to gag, the door to the reception area crashes open.
Marcus steps through the doorway and glowers at me. It takes just a second for his expression to change as his nose informs his brain that he’s just walked into a wall of shit. Unperturbed, Marcus moves toward me.
“If you think you can hide behind that little whore then you’re badly mistaken, Pelling. Come Monday morning, I’m going to move heaven and earth to ensure your poxy little store is closed for good. We’ll see if you’re still laughing once you’re unemployed.”
With Tessa’s advice fresh in my mind, and sufficient alcohol in my bloodstream, I retaliate.
“Do you realise just how pathetic it is to still bear a grudge for something that happened thirty bloody years ago? Get over it, will you.”
“Trust me, I’m over it. But as they say, Pelling, revenge is a dish best served cold.”
“What the hell are you actually seeking revenge for?”
“You and that bitch humiliated me. Just how long were you laughing at me behind my back?” he spits.
“I didn’t even know anything happened with you and Tessa until this evening.”
The '86 Fix: A 1980s Time Travel Novel Page 11
