With a sudden movement, he flung his arms around her.
‘Bloody hell, what’s brought this on?’ she said in a muffled voice.
‘It’s probably the nerves. Plus, you know, the overwhelming sensation of imminent doom. Makes you appreciate your mates that bit more.’
Clarrie laughed and patted his back. ‘Give over, Phil’s not that scary.’
‘What, Phil Wagstaff, the built-like-a-brick-shithouse ex-squaddie?’ Sonny said. ‘I bet he could kill a man with one punch. They teach them that in the SAS, you know.’
‘Ah, he’s a big softie. And he wasn’t in the SAS, he was a regular. I thought he liked you, anyway.’
‘That was before I dumped his only daughter and left her broken-hearted though, wasn’t it?’
‘Well, she did cheat on you, Sonny. I think you can claim mitigating circumstances.’
‘Yeah, but he doesn’t know that. I wasn’t really planning on bringing his precious little girl’s sex life up over an afternoon pint either.’ Sonny extricated an arm from the hug to wipe his sweat-beaded brow. ‘And bloody hell, Clar, if he ever finds out Gem thought I’d knocked her up… I mean, I’ve always been quite fond of my testicles, give or take. I’ve had them a long time now. Wouldn’t like to part from them at this stage in our relationship, if you know what I’m saying.’
‘But you didn’t knock her up, did you?’ Clarrie said. ‘It was a false alarm. Phil can hardly hold that against you.’
Sonny was silent. She pulled back from the hug so she could read his expression.
‘Oh no, Sonny…’
‘Look, it was hardly ever, okay? Just a couple of times, you know, when we’d had a bit to drink and we didn’t have any johnnies on us. We just thought, what’re the odds, right?’
‘So she really might’ve…’
Sonny hung his head. ‘Dates match up. We did wonder, when we were talking it through at camp. I mean, after all the booze she drank when she went off her head, if she might’ve… you know.’ He sought Clarrie’s eyes, looking like a particularly sullen and guilty rabbit. ‘So you hate me now, right?’
‘Don’t be daft.’ She gave him a squeeze. ‘You know I love you. Both of you.’ She frowned at him. ‘Although I think it goes without saying that it was a bloody stupid thing to do, you irresponsible pair of bellends.’
Sonny sighed. ‘It was, wasn’t it? Love you too, by the way.’ He clasped the back of her head, holding her tight for a moment.
‘Er, Sonny, I’m actually struggling to breathe here,’ Clarrie said in a voice muffled by a mouthful of shirt and shoulder.
‘Oh. Sorry.’
‘Phew. Thanks,’ she said when he released her from his suffocating grip. ‘I think you were nearly in danger of knocking me up as well for a minute there. So if Phil and Lou don’t know Gem cheated on you, why do they think you broke up?’
‘She told them we’d just drifted apart, something vague like that. But they blame me, I know they do.’ He groaned. ‘Oh Christ, Clar… reckon Si’ll have any fags on him?’
‘Come on, you gave up years ago.’
‘Got a sudden craving.’
Clarrie laughed. She guided him to their table and pushed him onto a seat.
‘Calm down, will you? You look like you’re trying to come off smack.’ She clapped a hand on his shoulder. ‘Look, we’ll all be here for moral support, and to help you hang onto your balls if Phil starts running riot with a pair of nail scissors or something. Let me get you a pint, that’ll help.’
‘Cheers. Pint of vodka please.’
‘You’re getting a Guinness. Unless there’s a boom in the second-hand-book-buying market in the near future, I can’t afford to subsidise your sudden need to hit the hard stuff.’
When she got back from the bar with their drinks, Si was there. He and Sonny were smoking a cigarette each.
‘Oh right.’ She dumped Sonny’s Guinness in front of him and sat down next to Si with her lager. ‘Got yourself a new smoking buddy, I see.’
‘Could never replace you, Clar,’ Si said, squeezing her shoulder. ‘Anyway, Sonny gets one of his own, look. I don’t want his manky drool on me.’
He handed over his cigarette and Clarrie took an appreciative drag.
‘You didn’t say that when you snogged me at camp, Si,’ Sonny said.
‘Oi. What happens at camp stays at camp,’ Si said. ‘That’s the rule we all agreed to back in Year Eleven.’
‘I thought it was “the first rule of Camp Club is you do not talk about Camp Club”.’
‘Well, it isn’t. Camp Club sounds like a Julian Clary fanzine or something.’
Gemma came marching over from the pub, nursing a glass of white wine and looking almost as nervous as Sonny.
‘Christ, Sunil, you’re not smoking?’ she said, taking a seat next to him. ‘Great time to fall off the bloody wagon. They’ll be here in a minute, you div, you’ll reek.’
‘Bollocks! You’re right.’ Sonny quickly stubbed out the remains of his cigarette. He exhaled into Gemma’s face. ‘How’s my breath?’
Gem wrinkled her nose. ‘Horrible. Here, have some chuddy.’ She pulled a pack of chewing gum from her handbag and handed it to him.
He eyed it suspiciously. ‘It’ll make my Guinness taste weird.’
‘Don’t care. Get it in your gob. And if my dad notices the smell then just say you were sitting next to Si, they know what he’s like.’
‘Ta very much, Gem,’ Si said.
Gemma shrugged. ‘Only yourself to blame, smoky.’ She reached across the table to pat his hand, deactivating teasing mode. ‘How’s your mum doing?’
‘You can ask her yourself,’ Si said, smiling. He pointed to the aviary, where his mum and dad were chatting to Kath and Greg, arms around each other’s waists. ‘They cut their holiday short so they could be back for the barbecue.’
Clarrie took his hand and gave it a gentle press. ‘Go well together, don’t they?’
‘They do.’ Si stubbed out his cigarette. ‘Right. I’m going to get a drink in and join the old folk. You coming, Clar?’
‘All right.’
Sonny stared at them. ‘You guys aren’t leaving me?’
‘We’ll just be over by the birds,’ Clarrie said, trying to sound reassuring. ‘Look, we can’t hold your hand through all of it. You have to do the first bit on your own.’
‘She’s right, Sunil,’ Gem said. ‘And I’m afraid the iceman cometh.’ She nodded to a well-built man, hand in hand with a woman almost as large as himself, striding towards them across the garden.
‘Oh, holy fuck. Has he always been that big? I swear he’s grown another foot.’
Clarrie patted his shoulder. ‘You’ll be fine, Sonny. Gem’ll be here to look after you. And if you need us, just give the secret signal.’
‘What secret signal?’
‘I dunno, hoot like an owl or something,’ she said. ‘Look, relax, okay? Try to remember why Phil liked you in the first place and then… do it again, that’s all.’
‘I have no idea why, no one else ever does. I make a terrible first impression.’
‘Well, maybe that’s why he liked you. Some people enjoy the company of sulky buggers.’
‘Harsh, Midwinter,’ Gem said, frowning at her.
‘No, that helps, actually,’ Sonny said, his eyes glazed. ‘Be my miserable self. I can do that. Come on, Gem, let’s get it over with.’ He stood and dragged her determinedly across the beer garden to meet Phil and Louise.
*
An hour later, the beer was flowing freely, the sun was burning – as were the burgers – and the barbecue was in full swing. In addition to Si, Clarrie and their old folk, the family group by the aviary had expanded to include Lyndsey, Dave and his parents. Sonny was still off with Gemma, struggling through his meet-the-parents ordeal.
‘Right, I’m off to the bar,’ Jeff announced, draining the last of his pint. He turned to his wife Polly, not making eye contact. ‘You having another or what?
’
‘I think I’ve had enough for this time in the afternoon.’ Polly glanced at the empty pint glass in his hand. ‘How many are you on now?’
‘What, not keeping score today?’
‘No, I know the answer. Just wondered if you’d lost count yet.’
‘Planning to by the end of the day.’
Dave flushed and looked away. Seeing his embarrassment, Clarrie pulled his arm through hers and dragged him out of earshot.
‘You okay, Davy?’
‘Yeah.’ He sighed, glancing back at the group. Jeff had gone for drinks, and Polly was smiling as she chatted to Lyndsey, Kath and Greg. ‘I mean, they’re fine apart, you know? Mum can be a right laugh when she’s in the mood, and Dad… well, you know what he’s like. They just seem to bring out the worst in each other.’
‘It’s not your fault though, is it?’ Clarrie said gently.
‘Never said it was.’
‘No. You never said it.’
‘How’s our Si coping, do you think?’ Dave asked, looking over to where Si was joking about something with his dad.
Clarrie shrugged. ‘As well as you could expect, given the circumstances. Ups and downs.’
‘When’s Yvonne’s big op?’
‘Next week. He tries to hide it but I know he’s been worrying himself sick about it. Us lot just need to make sure we’re there for him, that’s all.’
‘Think he knows he can always count on us for that,’ Dave said. ‘I take it you’ve been seeing a lot of him lately.’
‘Yeah, I tend to go over to his the nights when he’s not at his mum’s. I don’t like to think of him brooding on his own.’
‘Clar?’
‘What?’
‘Okay, don’t hit me, but… has it ever occurred to you that you and Si have been practically going out for years?’
She frowned. ‘How do you work that out then?’
‘Well, you do all the couply things, don’t you? Look after each other when you’re upset, flirt, finish each other’s sentences. The only thing you don’t do is stop kidding yourselves and admit you’re more than mates.’
‘No, Davy… look, that’s just friend stuff.’ She shook her head. ‘Come on, we all do it. You flirt with me all the time. Even you lads flirt with each other. It’s just a bit of fun.’
‘It’s different when you and Si do it.’
‘How’s it different?’
‘It just is,’ Dave said with a shrug. ‘Here. Look at them two.’
He nodded to Si’s parents. Pete was paddling his fingers through his wife’s hair as he whispered something in her ear and Clarrie remembered with a pang that the thick curls, dark like Si’s, would soon be gone.
‘That’s what you and Si are like with each other,’ Dave said. ‘Don’t you want that, what they’ve got?’
Clarrie blinked hard. ‘God… yes. Yes, I’d love that.’
‘Then get it, before he gets sick of you dicking him about and changes his mind. You can’t have your cake and eat it, Clar, doing this weird half girlfriend thing forever. It stops both of you moving on properly.’
‘Wise little ginger today, aren’t we?’
‘I have my moments.’
Clarrie scowled at a cheeky finch showboating for her attention in the aviary like a little feathered Simon. ‘Look, the final’s less than a month away. That’ll fix things, one way or the other.’
Dave shook his head. ‘I still can’t believe you’re pinning your future on the bloody quiz league.’
She shrugged. ‘Might as well. I’m doing a pretty shit job sorting it out myself.’
‘Just go for it, you daft cow. Never mind the sodding final.’ His gaze flickered to Pete and Yvonne again. ‘Stop being a knob and be happy. You might never get another chance.’
‘It doesn’t always work out like it did for them two though, does it? Look at your parents.’ Clarrie glanced at Jeff, who’d just returned from the bar with another pint and was determinedly ignoring his wife as usual. ‘Look at mine. Sonny’s. Even Gem’s – her real mum, I mean. It seems like half the kids we went to school with are from broken homes now.’
‘You and Si are different though. Like soulmates or something, it’s pretty nauseating. Worth taking a punt on it if you ask me.’
‘I didn’t ask you, Davy.’
‘All right, mardy arse. You never do ask me, I just tell you.’ His gaze fell on Lyndsey, making conversation with his mum. ‘Oh yeah, that reminds me. I want to ask you a favour.’
‘What?’
‘Will you and Gem do something with Lyns? Take her to the pub or something?’
Clarrie frowned. ‘Why? She’s been to the pub with us a few times now.’
‘Yeah, with all of us. I meant just you three.’
‘Right. Er, what for?’
‘Dunno really. It just feels like something to do, go out with the girls in the group. Make her feel welcome.’
Clarrie narrowed one eye. ‘You want us to find out what she thinks of you, don’t you?’
He grinned. ‘Maybe. But mainly I want you to get to know her. You know, do that girl bonding thing.’
‘You’re serious about this one, aren’t you, Davy?’
‘I am a bit,’ he said, watching Lyndsey and Polly chatting. ‘It’s rough being the ugly one, Clar. Girls never did look at me the way they looked at the other two. I’ve finally found someone I like who likes me, and I want to keep hold of her.’
‘Here. Look at me, Dave Henderson.’ Clarrie took him by the shoulders and twisted him to face her. ‘You’re not the ugly one. You’re the cute one.’
‘Cute, great. Winnie the Pooh’s cute but no one wants to shag him.’
‘Dunno, I always had my suspicions about him and Eeyore.’
Dave smiled. ‘Well, he is hung like a donkey.’
Clarrie laughed. ‘See? You’re the funny one too.’
‘It’s never got me girls though, has it?’
She shrugged. ‘Maybe you’ve just been chatting up the wrong girls. That Ed Sheeran does all right for himself, doesn’t he? Si reckons you look like him.’
‘Ed Sheeran’s a multi-millionaire with a major singing career, Clar. He doesn’t live in his mum’s back bedroom and work in data entry.’
‘Well, that is true.’
‘So will you take Lyns out for a girls’ night? For me?’
Clarrie put her arm round his shoulders. ‘Course, if it’s important to you. I’ll have a word with Gem and we’ll set it up.’
When they rejoined the main group, Clarrie sidled up to Simon and plucked his elbow.
‘Oi. Dewhirst Junior. I’ve nearly finished my second pint.’
He assumed a look of innocence. ‘Don’t know what you mean, Clar.’
‘Come on. There’s an empty table over there.’
‘Oh, go on then.’
He followed her to a vacant table and they both took a seat.
‘My mum’ll go spare if she sees me smoking,’ he said, tapping out a cigarette for them.
‘Why? She knows you smoke.’
‘Yeah, but disapproving of it is her second favourite hobby, after winding Dad up.’
Clarrie lit the cigarette and sucked on it meditatively, gazing at their old folk chatting.
‘Si? You ever thought that out of the five of us, you’re the only one whose parents are still happily married?’
‘Dave’s parents are still married.’
‘Yeah, the key word you seem to have missed there was “happily”. Dave’s parents hate each other.’
‘Well, there is that.’
‘Makes you wonder what they saw in each other in the first place, doesn’t it?’ Clarrie said, thinking of Jeff and Polly sitting in a mutual, silent sulk in front of the telly every time she’d been over to Dave’s after school.
‘I think the main thing Jeff saw in Polly was Dave,’ Si said with a grim half smile, taking the cigarette from her. ‘About four months’ worth of him by the time they ti
ed the knot, apparently.’
‘Who told you that?’
‘My dad. He was best man at their shotgun wedding.’
She let out a snort. ‘Dave the ginger foetus. That’s weird.’
‘I don’t think you can really count Gem as one of your broken home brigade though. Lou’s brought her up since she was four. That family’s pretty normal.’
‘Still. Three out of five of us: two single mums and a miserable couple who should’ve divorced decades ago. Not great, is it?’
‘That’s just our parents though, isn’t it? It’s not us, any of us.’ Si stubbed out their cigarette and turned to face her. ‘Look, I know what this is about. It’s not you, Clar.’
‘It could be.’
‘No. It couldn’t. Clarissa Pauline Midwinter is her own person with her own future, to do what she likes with. You know this sort of thinking’ll only make you miserable.’
Clarrie swilled her pint absently. ‘At least it’s only got the potential to make me miserable.’ She glanced at Dave, who’d sneaked off into a corner of the beer garden with Lyndsey for a spot of snogging away from his parents’ prying eyes. ‘Poor Davy. He had a pretty messed up time of it growing up, listening to them arguing all the time. No wonder Rob never wants to come home.’
‘You’re not Polly, Clarrie.’ Si covered her free hand with his. ‘I’m not Jeff.’
‘How do you know I’m not Polly?’ she said. ‘My mum was at school with Dave’s parents too. She told me Polly Cawthra was like their Laura Tindall. Pretty, fun, outgoing – now look at her. All she does is shout and cry and make Jeff miserable.’
‘Yeah well, that’s him too, isn’t it? He’s barely spoken to her in twenty years except to ask what she’s making him for tea.’
‘I know.’ Clarrie met his eyes. ‘What if that was us, Si?’
‘It wouldn’t be.’
‘You don’t know that. Life does that to people: makes them bitter. It pushes them together, forces them to go through all this stuff, turns them into different people then wedges them apart. Jeff and Polly, my parents – they all cared about each other, once.’
‘God, you’re cynical. Other than all the times I got you grounded, when have me and you ever done anything but make each other happy?’
‘Never. That’s why we need to stop the life stuff getting between us. Christ, Simon, what if – what if there were—’
A Question of Us Page 18
