by Sara Barnard
His jaw tightens. ‘Hey, I didn’t psychoanalyse you, did I?’
‘Sorry.’ I hesitate. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’
His eyes slide from mine, a distancing, self-protective quirk of a smile passing over his face. ‘Ah, it’s just a load of bullshit.’
‘Isn’t everything?’ I say. There’s a pause, so I reach out my foot and nudge him. ‘Hey. I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.’
He looks back at me and I smile as casually as I can, as if the two of us sharing our worst stories is no big deal. When he does tell me, he does it in a rush. He tells me about his dad – ‘not a bad guy, not really; just a good guy who can’t help himself’ – and his multiple affairs, the woman he got pregnant while Matt was at uni, how Matt’s never met his half-sister, how his mum kept forgiving his dad, over and over, how their decision to split up the previous summer was mutual, even though it shouldn’t have been, and that still makes Matt angry. I keep my questions to a minimum; I just nod along and let him talk until he runs out of steam, turns to me and says, ‘Your turn.’
Not that it’s a competition, but my stuff is so much worse than his, and I can tell by his face that Kel must have left out a lot but he’s trying not to react too obviously. I keep my voice light as I run through my story as quickly as I can – violent stepdad, left home at fifteen, lived in Brighton with Sarah, it went badly, tried to kill myself (again), got professional help, foster care – and when I finish he’s looking at me like I’m a glass vase that just smashed on the floor.
‘I’m really fine,’ I say. This was a mistake. I should not have started any of this.
Matt opens his mouth to say something and then changes his mind, shaking his head. When he tries again, he says, ‘That was intense.’
‘I tried to make it non-intense,’ I say. My skin feels prickly.
‘I could tell,’ he says. ‘How many times have you told that story?’
‘Not as often as you’d think, actually,’ I say. ‘I don’t usually …’ I mean to say ‘let people in’, but I stop myself, because that’s a whole other level of intense that I don’t want to open either of us up to. ‘I don’t like talking about it. Sorry. I shouldn’t have—’
‘Shit, don’t apologize,’ he says. ‘I’m sorry. I’m reacting like a twat. I don’t even know what to say, and I keep thinking of questions but—’
‘Go ahead,’ I interrupt. ‘Ask me whatever. I can take it.’
He hesitates, eyebrows crinkling. ‘OK … your mum. Didn’t—’
‘No, she never did anything.’
‘Never?’
‘When I was really young, sometimes she’d wake me up before he could get to me and then lock us both in the bathroom until he’d calmed down. And sometimes she’d cry for him to stop if it was really bad. Oh, and he used to do this thing where he’d lock me out of the house, like, just in the garden? Overnight, I mean, when I was in my pyjamas. She usually came and got me once he was asleep.’ The look on his face makes me laugh a completely humourless laugh. ‘Too intense again?’
‘Why the fuck didn’t she leave him?’
‘Because she loves him. You’re hearing all the bad stuff from me. She’d tell you the good stuff. Also, she feels guilty, because she cheated on him and had another guy’s baby. There’s that, too.’
‘She feels guilty about that?!’
‘My real dad was best man at their wedding,’ I say, which is a detail I’ve never told a single person outside of Gwillim House. ‘Yeah, she feels guilty about that. So she should. What a dick move. Cheating on your husband with his best friend? It’s just tragic. I’m embarrassed for her.’
‘What’s he like?’
‘Who? Oh, my “real” dad. No idea. He’s not interested. He fucked off when my dad – stepdad – found out that I wasn’t his, which, by the way, was about nine years before I found out my stepdad wasn’t really my dad. My brilliant family, right? Actually –’ I realize as I speak that I’m overdoing the casual act, trying too hard to pretend that this is OK, and I try to dial it back – ‘I’m being harsh on my stepdad. He did raise me. And it wasn’t all bad all the time.’
‘You’re being harsh on your abusive stepdad?’ Matt’s voice is higher than usual, pitched with incredulity. ‘I’d throw that fucker off a bridge. Jesus.’
How to explain feeling defensive of the parents who destroyed you? You can’t. ‘My emotions are complex,’ I say, hoping to make him laugh with dry understatement, and it works because his eyes crinkle as he smiles. ‘So, now you know about my tragic life.’
He’s freaked out a bit. I can see it in his eyes. People always think they want to know, but they don’t, not really. I haven’t even told him any of the details, none of the hospital admissions, none of the things Dad used to say when he really wanted to hurt me. What I’ve said is so sanitized, and still it’s too much. Is it any wonder I don’t like to talk about it? Can anyone really blame me?
God, he clearly came here because he wanted to kiss me. At the very least. And instead we’ve both over-shared and now it’s awkward. Damn. Fucking damn. Haven’t I learned anything? It’s Boxing Day, for God’s sake.
‘Hey, I’ve heard worse,’ he says. His eyes meet mine and he smiles.
I smile back, trying to keep the relief out of it. ‘Have you actually?’
‘Well, no.’ We both laugh, and the awkwardness lifts.
‘Have you got any more gigs coming up?’ I ask. I already know he doesn’t, because Kel and I had talked about it, but the question does what I meant it to do and steers our conversation back on to safe ground. I make us more tea and he tunes my guitar, talking happily about songwriting and his favourite chord progressions, his callused fingers deft on the strings.
I end up seeing him almost every day over the next week before New Year, often with Kel, Caddy and Rosie as well. It feels good to hang out as a group, and that’s how we spend New Year’s Eve: together. We go to one of the clubs near the seafront for a ‘Nineties New Year’ and it’s cheesy as hell but perfect. I might hate Christmas, but I love New Year’s Eve. I love how hopeful it is, all that optimism. The baseless belief that things will be better just because the calendar changes. It’s so endearing, and it’s impossible not to get swept up along with it.
When the countdown starts, my heart races, like it always does, with hope. I want what I always want, which is for the next year to be better than this one. And, to be fair, it has been. This year was better than last year, and that was better than the one before. The bar’s pretty low, it’s true. But still, I’m getting there.
The clock hits midnight and the whole club screeches out in drunken unison, confetti raining from the ceiling. I turn to Rosie and we hug, tight and sweaty. She laughs in my ear and kisses my cheek. ‘Happy New Year!’ When we disentangle, I wait the couple of seconds it takes before Caddy stops kissing Kel and opens her arms to Rosie before I let myself look at Matt. He’s waiting, sparkling eyes only on me, a quirk of a smile on his face. When we kiss, I forget the room.
I’m cat-sitting for Sarah while she’s in Dublin with a couple of her friends, which is why I suggest on a whim that everyone comes back with me for after-party drinks. Kel looks a little put out when Caddy squeals an enthusiastic ‘Yes!’, which must be because he was expecting us all to go back to his instead, but he doesn’t say no.
When I let us into the flat, Henry Gale winds himself around my legs, mewing, and I lean down to pick him up. ‘Hey, you. Come in, guys. I’m just going to feed him.’
I head towards the kitchen, listening to Caddy’s breathless ‘I’m so excited to be back here. Is it weird that I’m so excited to be back here?’ behind me, and measure out the food for Henry, who immediately begins to wolf it down.
‘Suze?’ Rosie’s voice sounds behind me and I jump. I hadn’t realized she’d followed me. ‘Am I the fifth wheel, here?’
‘Oh my God, no,’ I say. I open Sarah’s alcohol cupboard and begin sorting through the bottles, t
rying to figure out what I can get away with stealing. ‘It wasn’t like that tonight, was it? Why would it be now?’
‘Because beds,’ she says.
I laugh. ‘We’re just going to hang out all together,’ I say. ‘It’ll be fun. Promise. What do you want to drink?’
‘Nothing,’ she says.
I glance at her. ‘Everything OK?’
Before she can reply, Caddy comes bounding into the kitchen, beaming, followed by Kel. ‘It all looks just the same,’ she announces. Kel slides an arm around her, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. She leans back against him, smiling.
‘It’s only been a couple of years,’ I say, watching as Henry Gale, clearly bothered by all the strangers, stalks out of the room. ‘What did you think would be different?’
‘Three years,’ Caddy corrects. ‘I’m really happy that we’re all back here. I thought we never would be again.’
‘OK, dramatic,’ I say. ‘What do you want to drink?’
‘Do you have any lemons? And triple sec?’ Kel asks. ‘I could make lemon drops with the vodka.’
‘Suze meant, like, vodka and a mixer,’ Caddy says. ‘Something simple.’
‘I wasn’t asking her to make them,’ Kel says, brow furrowing. ‘Lemon drops are nice. You like them.’
‘Sure, but not now,’ she says.
Rosie and I look at each other. Her eyebrows lift slightly and I shrug back, making a face. ‘I’ll see what Matt wants to drink,’ I say. ‘There are probably lemons in the fridge. Make whatever you want, OK?’
When I walk back into the living room, Matt is holding Henry Gale like a baby. They both have matching looks of euphoria on their faces.
‘Are you a cat person?’ I ask.
Matt turns to me, beaming. ‘Hell, yeah,’ he says. ‘Bloody love cats, me.’ Seeing my face, his beam drops. ‘You’re not?’
I put a hand to my chest. ‘Dog person.’
‘Ah, shit,’ he says. ‘Guess we’re incompatible then.’
‘Shame,’ I say. ‘We could have had it all.’
He grins at me, giving Henry Gale a little twirl, and I tell him to hold the pose so I can take a picture. He obeys, lifting Henry higher so he can nuzzle his head. It’s adorable, even though Henry is a cat.
‘How come you’re looking after this one if you don’t like cats?’ he asks.
‘Henry Gale is the exception,’ I say, leaning forward to touch my nose to Henry’s. ‘Everyone’s allowed an exception.’
He smiles. ‘Are they, now?’ He leans down to let Henry jump out of his arms and on to the floor. ‘So this is where you used to live?’
‘Briefly,’ I say, trying to remember why I’d come in here. I was meant to ask him something.
‘It’s nice.’ Matt sinks down on to the sofa and holds out a hand to me, pulling me down on top of him when I take it, reaching up and tugging the blanket down over us. He’s warm and cosy and I curl into him, his arms closing around me. We adjust instinctively; both of us stretching out across the length of the sofa, me mostly on my back, him on his side. Our foreheads touch.
He whispers, ‘Happy New Year.’
‘Happy New Year,’ I whisper back. We’re too close, and I think we both know it. This is more than friends, more than benefits. I lift my chin just a little closer and we’re kissing, snuggled together on a sofa, under a blanket, in the earliest hours of New Year’s Day.
‘Oh God.’ Rosie’s voice, getting louder as she comes into the room. ‘Seriously? You promised me fun, not couples hell.’
I twist myself so I can see her. ‘If Jade was here, you’d—’
‘Jade isn’t here,’ Rosie interrupts, and there’s a snap in her voice that makes me disentangle myself from Matt and roll away from him, out from under the blanket and off the sofa.
‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘I am definitely here for fun.’
Rosie looks past me, towards Matt. ‘On a scale of one to ten, how much do you hate me right now?’
He laughs. ‘Where are Caddy and Kel?’
‘Kitchen,’ she says. ‘As a couple. Look, I think I’m going to go.’
‘No!’ I say immediately, flushing with guilt. ‘I’m sorry. No coupling. Let’s get some drinks and …’ My mind has suddenly gone blank. What could we do that’s fun? All I can think about is the feeling of Matt’s body against mine under the blanket and how much I wish I was still there. ‘We can play a game or something.’
Rosie’s eyebrow quirks. ‘Monopoly?’ Her sarcasm bites.
‘I was thinking more like “I Have Never”,’ I say. ‘But we can play Monopoly if you want.’
‘Well,’ Rosie begins, but there’s a noise from the other side of the flat and we both pause just in time to hear Kel’s raised voice saying ‘For fuck’s sake!’ and then quietening off. Rosie and I look at each other, then at Matt. He’s sat up, frowning.
‘Should I check everything’s OK?’ I ask uncertainly. Caddy and Kel are the golden ones out of all of us. The fact that they don’t need anyone to check on them – either of them, ever – is like their thing. But Caddy’s my best friend, and it sounded an awful lot like Kel just shouted at her. Plus, it’s Sarah’s flat, which means right now it’s my flat.
So I head out of the living room and down the hall to the kitchen, pausing in the doorway until they both look over at me. ‘Hey,’ I say. ‘Everything OK?’
‘Yeah,’ Caddy says.
I don’t move.
‘It’s fine,’ she says. Her voice has that tinge of impatience that comes with not being fine, but not wanting to have to acknowledge it. I know it very well.
I look at Kel and raise my eyebrows a little. I heard you raise your voice at my friend, and I will kill you if you hurt her, and you shouldn’t raise your voice in my house anyway, OK? I can tell he gets it without me saying it out loud because he looks away from me.
‘This is kind of private, Suze,’ Caddy says, and the tinge of impatience is thicker now. ‘Can we just have a minute?’
I put up my hands and leave them to it. When I get back to the living room, Matt is lying on the sofa with Henry Gale on his stomach kneading his chest. I can hear him purring – the cat, not Matt – from across the room.
‘Where’s Roz?’ I ask.
‘She left,’ Matt says, craning his neck but not moving enough to dislodge Henry. ‘She said she was taking the opportunity to slip out.’
‘For God’s sake!’ I say, pulling out my phone and calling her. ‘She can’t just walk home on her— Roz! Where did you go?’
‘Home,’ Rosie says. ‘I’m tired, and you guys have your own thing. It’s fine, honestly. I’m in an Uber.’
Guilt feels heavy in my chest. I turn instinctively away from Matt and lower my voice. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be. Seriously, it’s OK. I miss Jade and it’s just a thing.’
‘But you were going to stay here.’
‘Right now I just want my own bed.’
I don’t know how to say what I want to say, which is that with her gone, it really is a couples thing, and I don’t know how to feel about that.
‘Hey, Suze?’ she says.
‘Yeah?’
‘I like Matt.’
I’m suddenly glad my back is to him, because a smile has burst on to my face at the words, wide and obvious. ‘Do you?’
‘Yeah.’ I can tell there’s more she wants to say, but instead she says, ‘I’m nearly home. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Or, later today, I guess? Love you.’
She doesn’t usually say things like that out loud. ‘I love you, too.’
I turn back around to face Matt, who pushes Henry Gale gently off his lap as he sits upright to ask, ‘Are Kel and Caddy OK?’
‘I think so,’ I say, glancing towards the open living-room door. ‘Sorry. This isn’t how I thought it’d go when I said you should all come back here.’
He smiles and holds a hand out to me. When I take it, he squeezes my palm and then my knuckles, the tips of my finger
s, sending tingles up my arms and through my whole body. ‘I don’t mind,’ he says.
‘Guys?’
I break away from Matt like I’ve been pulled backwards, leaping away from him, turning to face Kel, who’s standing in the living-room doorway next to Caddy. Neither of them is looking particularly cheerful.
‘We’re going to go,’ he says.
‘Oh,’ I say.
‘Yeah,’ Caddy says. ‘Sorry.’
‘You coming?’ Kel asks, directing the question at Matt, who’s stood up beside me. ‘You’re staying at mine, right?’
‘What, so it’s OK when it’s Matt?’ Caddy snaps at him, which makes no sense at all.
‘Cads,’ Kel says, his face creasing. ‘You know—’
‘Let’s just go,’ she says. She reaches out her arms to me and I let her hug me. ‘Sorry,’ she says again, into my ear. She squeezes tight.
When we separate, I realize Matt and Kel are having one of those silent conversations you can only have if you’ve known each other for a long time. Kel notices me watching first and pastes on a smile. ‘See you later, Suze. Happy New Year, yeah?’ He gives me a brief hug, then turns to go.
I look at Matt. Matt looks at me.
‘See you later, I guess,’ I say.
His face falls, but only for a moment. He smiles and shrugs. ‘Sure, OK.’ He glances towards the door, sees that Caddy and Kel have already disappeared through it, then grins at me. ‘Busted by the chaperones.’
I feel my face break into a mirroring grin. ‘God damn.’
Matt takes my hand, eyes on mine, then lifts it to his mouth and drops a kiss on my knuckles. Sweet and soft, like that first time at the pier. My heart is as unprepared for it now as it was then. I don’t say anything, just smile and watch him leave, closing the door behind the three of them.
I call Henry’s name and he comes flying out of Sarah’s bedroom to see me, winding himself around my ankles until I pick him up. ‘Just you and me, then.’ I wait to feel the horrible, churning ache of loneliness, but it doesn’t come. Maybe I’m too tired, but what I’m feeling is closer to happiness.
Holding Henry Gale close to my chest, I head along the hall to bed.
