A Question of Us

by Mary Jayne Baker

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘That’s it? Just like that? I thought you’d make me fight for it.’

  He shrugged. ‘Bit tired, that’s all. Just… whatever you want.’

  ‘God, I hate seeing you like this.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘So not like you. Or not like you with me. It’s horrible. It’s like, all those things – I mean, not just recently, but everything, ever. Rockets, trifle, Kiss Chase – me and you. It’s like they didn’t happen. Like you…’ She gulped back a sob. ‘… like you’re a, a stranger or something. Feels like we’ve been apart forever. Oh God… oh my God, Simon…’ The hand she was holding was pressed so tight, the knuckles were starting to blanch.

  Si stared ahead, his expression carefully fixed. ‘Sorry, Clarrie. I’m the same me, promise. I didn’t forget, any of it. Couldn’t.’

  ‘Do you still love me?’

  He winced heavily. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then why so quiet? Why won’t you look at me? Are you angry?’

  ‘Trying not to break down, that’s all.’

  ‘Oh. Yeah, fighting that battle myself.’

  She ran a tentative finger along his cheek, but withdrew it when she felt him recoil.

  ‘You asked me once before to cry with you,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Oh God…’ He jumped up, jerking his hand away from her. ‘Can’t do this, kiddo. Sorry. Got to go.’

  ‘Si, wait, please! You said you’d stay, you said—’

  ‘I’ll stay. Come find me later. Right now I need to go. Tell Sonny and Gem I’m sorry.’ He strode towards the exit, his face twitching feverishly.

  Clarrie buried her face in her hands and gave in to sobs for a moment.

  ‘You all right, sweety?’ Gem said when she arrived back, resting her hand on Clarrie’s shoulder.

  ‘I’ll be okay. Sorry, Gem, don’t mean to be weepy on your big night.’ Clarrie summoned control with an effort and wiped her eyes. Dave and Sonny had slipped back into their seats, an unnecessary pint glass filled with ice cubes in front of them.

  ‘How’d you scare him away?’ Dave asked.

  ‘He’s not gone gone,’ Clarrie said. ‘He’s going to hang around till the end, he promised me. I think he’s just stepped outside for a minute.’

  ‘Not going after him?’

  ‘No. He needs to be away from me right now. Have to respect that.’

  ‘So we’re sticking to the plan then?’ Sonny asked.

  ‘S’pose so. The big romantic gesture thing worked for you, didn’t it? And you well buggered it up. No offence.’

  ‘Hey,’ Gem said, frowning. She put a protective arm around Sonny. ‘I thought it was sweet.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Clarrie said. ‘Hopefully Si’ll think I’m sweet. It’s putting the effort in that counts, right?’

  ‘Yeah…’ Dave looked thoughtful. ‘Back in a minute, guys.’

  Sonny watched him leave the pub. ‘Where’s he off?’

  Clarrie shrugged. ‘Dunno. Can I have prosecco yet?’

  ‘When Dave gets back. We have to do the toast thing.’

  Dave came back a few minutes later and sat down next to Clarrie.

  ‘Well? Where’d you go?’ Clarrie asked. ‘Sonny says we all have to sit here gagging till you come do the toast thing.’

  ‘Been to talk to Si.’

  ‘What? Why? Leave him alone a bit, Davy, he’s upset.’

  ‘That’s why I wanted to talk to him. I won’t say there wasn’t a manly cuddle thrown in too.’

  ‘What did you say to him?’ Gemma asked.

  ‘Told him about tonight,’ Dave said. ‘Clarrie trying to win the bet, all the revision she’s been doing. You know, so even if we lose he’ll know we tried, right?’

  ‘Did it work?’ Sonny asked.

  ‘Dunno, he didn’t say much. Doesn’t seem himself tonight, does he? He looked sort of thoughtful though.’

  Clarrie gave his shoulder a squeeze. ‘Thanks, Davy.’

  ‘Hope it works, that’s all.’ He nodded to the glasses of prosecco. ‘So can we all have a drink of this weird fizzy stuff that isn’t beer now or what?’

  ‘You have to do the toast thing first,’ Gem said. ‘Since you’re best man.’

  ‘Bloody hell, am I?’

  Sonny shrugged. ‘Course.’

  ‘Oh right, brilliant. Won’t let you down, guys.’

  ‘Can I come on the stag do then, Davy?’ Clarrie asked.

  ‘Yeah, if you jump out of a cake in some nipple tassels and your pants.’

  She shrugged. ‘All right, since it’s a special occasion.’

  ‘Cracking.’ Dave sent a thumbs-up to Sonny. ‘Sorted you a stripper, mate. Proper dirty one too. Ow.’ He rubbed his arm where Clarrie had punched him.

  ‘Never mind strippers, you tit-obsessed pervert,’ Gemma said. ‘Toast. Now.’

  ‘Right.’ Dave slid a champagne flute to each of them, the spare glass that had been poured for Si sitting in the middle of the table, depressingly full, as a reminder of his absence. ‘What do I say then?’

  ‘Anything,’ Sonny said. ‘If I can pull a proposal out my arse then I’m sure you can ad-lib a toast.’

  ‘Er, right. Okay.’ Dave stood and held his glass out in front of him. ‘So. Here’s to a bright future for my best friend Sonny and his beautiful fiancée Gem. Er…’ He nudged Clarrie. ‘Help us out here.’

  ‘Sorry, Dave, you’re on your own,’ she said, grinning. ‘Love watching you sweat it out.’

  ‘Ugh. Hate you. So, yeah, I’ve known Sonny and Gem since primary school, me and Sonny have been best mates now for—’ he paused to do a quick calculation, ‘Jesus Christ, twenty years, since we started Beavers together.’

  ‘It’s not a bloody therapy session,’ Sonny said. ‘We know all that. Skip the life story and get on with it.’

  ‘Oi. No heckling from the cheap seats. Right, so, um…’ Dave flashed Sonny a dirty look. ‘See that? You made me forget what I was going to say, you knobhead.’

  ‘Don’t call me a knobhead in the toast, Davy, I’m the groom-to-be.’

  ‘Shush. So what I basically want to say is, er… oh God, I’m shit at this. Right. You guys are two of my best friends and I love you both to bits, even when one of you – I won’t say which one – is being a right knobhead, and I honestly couldn’t wish happiness on two nicer people. So be together, make each other happy, get down, make love, and, er, have a nice life.’ He waved his glass in the air. ‘To Sonny and Gem.’

  ‘Sonny and Gem,’ Clarrie echoed, clinking glasses around the table.

  Dave sank, relieved, back into his seat and Sonny reached over to pat his hand. ‘Thanks, Davy. That was… really weird. But sort of sweet.’

  ‘Better than your proposal.’

  ‘Got me a wife, didn’t it? Don’t knock it if it works.’

  Gem waggled a newly sparkling finger at Clarrie. ‘Seen my ring, Clar?’

  ‘Very nice, Gem. Shiny.’ Clarrie turned to Sonny. ‘How much did that set you back then?’

  ‘Well I’m not going to tell you in front of Gem, am I? Let’s just say I had to slave away over a hot laptop for quite a bit.’

  ‘Where’d you get it?’

  ‘Sampson’s Jewellers, in town. It’s none of your Argos cubic zirconium, that, you know.’

  ‘Sampson’s?’ Dave said, frowning. ‘That place closed down months ago.’

  Sonny blushed. ‘Yeah. Bought it last year, didn’t I?’

  Gemma tilted his face towards her. ‘Seriously, Sunil? Before we broke up?’

  ‘Yes, Gem. I knew you were the one ages ago.’

  ‘Oh, love…’ She flung her arms around him and her voice sank to a whisper. ‘Can’t believe I nearly lost you.’

  ‘You never will again.’ Sonny claimed her lips for a kiss.

  Clarrie sighed and turned to Dave. ‘They’re off again with the snogging.’

  ‘Yeah. Can’t help feeling we should be somewhere else.’

 
She shrugged. ‘They don’t seem bothered about us. I say just ignore it. How long till the second half?’

  ‘We should’ve started again ten minutes ago. Tim’s rubbish at keeping these things on track.’ He pulled the answer sheet towards him. ‘Aren’t doing bad, are we?’

  ‘No. You know, I think this might be the first time we’ve not had gaps to fill during the break.’ She glanced over at Darren’s table, where his team were busily discussing their answers. ‘You don’t think we’re really going to win, do you?’

  ‘Tell you what, I actually think we’ve got a decent shot.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘Nervous?’

  ‘God, Davy, you’ve got no idea.’

  33

  Clarrie raised her eyes to send a prayer of thanks up to Triviatus, the god of all things quizzerly, when Tim announced a literature round right after the break. Another Flower Arrangers strength and Les Quiz weak spot. If they could just push Darren’s team a few points behind, just six questions…

  It was a tougher round than usual. Very few questions from before 1930, and she’d skipped the post-modernism module at uni. Still, she was pretty sure it was an eight out of ten, at least. God, she hoped that would be enough.

  After the last question of the round, their prosecco was long gone and Sonny made a trip up to the bar.

  ‘Nice to be back on proper booze,’ Clarrie said, taking her lager off the tray he was carrying. She sighed. ‘Cheaper round without our Simon, eh?’

  ‘Well, that round was free.’ Sonny nodded to a short man with a bald crown and ponytail leaning against the bar. ‘That little bloke bought it for us.’

  ‘Really?’ Dave squinted at the man. ‘Who is he?’

  Sonny shrugged. ‘Never seen him before. He just went all damp-eyed and insisted on buying me, my fiancée and my mates all a pint. Told me he was young once too. Old people always say that, don’t they? Like we think they were born a hundred and four or something.’

  ‘They’re a soppy bunch in here,’ Clarrie said. ‘I bet you and Gem won’t have to buy a drink all night.’

  ‘I know, brilliant.’ Gemma nudged Sonny. ‘Hey, we should go round and get engaged in a few more locals. It makes for a cheap night out.’

  ‘Not a chance. I’m not going through that again for all the Guinness in Dublin.’ He grinned at her. ‘Tell you what, you can propose to me in the next one.’

  ‘No way. Think I’d put myself through that?’ She took a sip of her wine. ‘I’d make a better job of it than you though.’

  ‘I thought you said it was sweet.’

  ‘It was. Still rubbish.’

  ‘Shut up. You’re rubbish.’

  Gem blew him a kiss. ‘Love you too, Sunil.’

  Dave nudged Clarrie. ‘Hey, shall we start a sweepstake on the divorce?’

  ‘All right. I give it six months.’

  Sonny glared at them. ‘Twats. Right, just for that, when we do the table planning I’m putting you two next to my Great Aunt Tanvir. Don’t worry, Mum says her chronic flatulence has practically cleared up lately. Practically.’

  Clarrie grinned. ‘Sorry, Sonny. You’re just too easy to wind up, we can’t help ourselves.’

  ‘Right,’ Tim fizzed into his microphone. ‘Posh one next: world cuisine. Hope all you chip-guzzling scuffers can cope with it.’

  Dave nodded to Sonny. ‘All right, you’re up. Hope you’ve been revising.’

  Sonny looked nervous. ‘Yeah, well, I have, obviously. Still need the right questions though, don’t I?’

  ‘Question one,’ Tim sizzled. ‘What material is used to cover a haggis?’

  Sonny’s eyes went wide. ‘Oh God. I don’t know it. Didn’t do anywhere in the UK.’

  ‘I do though,’ Gemma said, taking the answer sheet off him. ‘It’s sheep stomach. Grim or what?’

  Sonny scoffed. ‘Please. I’ve seen you eat practically a whole black pudding.’

  ‘That’s like one of the classic northern dishes though, isn’t it? You don’t want to be unpatriotic.’

  ‘Why, what’s black pudding made of?’ Dave asked.

  ‘Pig’s blood and sawdust or something,’ Clarrie said. ‘It’s from the days when they’d eat anything so long as it was fried to within an inch of its life.’

  Dave gagged. ‘Ew, really? Wish someone’d told me that years ago.’

  ‘You going to stop eating it then?’

  ‘Don’t be daft. That stuff’s delicious.’

  ‘Right, question two,’ Tim boomed. ‘Moving to Italy, what does the phrase al dente mean?’

  Sonny breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Italian, awesome. We learnt this on that course. It’s like pasta that’s a bit hard.’

  ‘Seriously?’ Dave said. ‘That’s what it means, “pasta that’s a bit hard”?’

  ‘Yeah. Sort of.’

  Clarrie tutted. ‘You can’t write that. Here, give it us.’ She snatched the answer sheet and scribbled ‘firm to the taste’ in the blank space.

  ‘All right, that does sound better,’ Sonny admitted grudgingly.

  ‘Question three. What are the key ingredients of a mojito cocktail?’

  Sonny frowned. ‘How are cocktails world cuisine? They’re not even food.’

  ‘It’s okay, me and Gem know it,’ Clarrie said. ‘It’s, er, mint. And… something. Mint and something.’

  Gemma shook her head. ‘Nice try, Midwinter. Here.’ She took the answer sheet from Clarrie and jotted down the correct answer.

  After world cuisine came a wildcard round, without precedent in the history of the quiz league: connections. Each answer was supposed to have a link to the one before, so the more the team got right, the more built-in clues there were.

  ‘Bloody Tim and his bright ideas,’ Dave muttered.

  ‘Might be okay though,’ Clarrie said doubtfully. ‘If we get the first few anyway.’

  As it turned out, it wasn’t too bad. The name of Popeye’s girlfriend helped them to the key ingredients of focaccia bread, which took them on to the herbs for sale at Scarboro’ Fair, and so on.

  ‘Right,’ Tim said after a question on the Disney film that had won the most Oscars. ‘Question six: what were the names of the seven dwarves in the Grimm Brothers’ fairytale Snow White?’

  ‘Okay, I should know this, watched it enough times when I was a kid,’ Dave said, tapping the biro against his forehead. ‘Er, Happy, Grumpy, Dopey, Bashful… and the other three. Reckon we’d get half a point for that?’

  Clarrie let her gaze wander over to Si’s table only to discover him trying to get her attention, flashing her a meaningful look. He’d barely glanced at her since he’d left them earlier. She felt a jolt as she realised he was trying to tell her something – to help them win.

  ‘Trick question,’ she said firmly. ‘Tim’s trying to catch us out with that Disney link. He said the fairytale: different names than the film, I reckon.’

  ‘Okay, what then?’ Dave said.

  Sonny nudged Gemma. ‘Watch Darren for me, will you? Got a hunch.’

  ‘All right.’ Gemma fixed her gaze on the Les Quiz table.

  ‘Oi, quizmaster,’ Sonny shouted to Tim. ‘One point each or one for the lot?’

  ‘Only one point on offer, lover boy, and I’ll need a complete answer,’ Tim called back. ‘No half points either, not in the final.’

  ‘Cheers.’ Sonny lowered his voice. ‘Okay, Gem, what did Daz do?’

  ‘Laughed like you were a massive thick twat.’

  ‘Heh, thought he might. Right.’ He took the answer sheet off Clarrie. ‘They didn’t have names then. It’s obvious there’s a single correct answer.’

  ‘Bloody hell.’ Clarrie shot him an impressed look. ‘You know, Sonny, I reckon being engaged has upped your IQ.’

  At the end of the round, Dave squeezed her hand. ‘This is it, Clar. Crunch time.’

  ‘Yeah. Hope this works.’ Sonny glanced over at Si’s table. ‘Shit, where is he? He hasn’t gone, has he?’

  ‘No,’ Clarrie said.
She nodded to the bar. Si had strolled over and was leaning against it, gazing across at them. His brow was gathered into a thoughtful frown, but he turned away when he saw her looking back.

  ‘Yeah, it’s okay, lads, I’ve had my eye on him too. Won’t let him leave till we’re ready,’ Gemma said. She pulled the answer sheet to her. ‘No blank spaces. I reckon we’ve done all right, you know. Shall I go swap with Les Quiz?’

  Clarrie shook her head. ‘I don’t want to have to see their answers, it’ll only make me anxious.’ She didn’t really want to speak to Darren if she could avoid it either, not after their date the other week. He’d been trying to catch her eye all night. ‘Go swap with Barb and Jack.’

  Dave nudged her. ‘Hey. Next League them Murgatroyds should change their shit team name to The Rank Outsiders. We’ve well beaten them into third this year.’

  ‘All right, don’t get smug.’ Clarrie grinned. ‘We did though, didn’t we? Let’s draw a sad smiley and write “Must Try Harder” on their paper, just to rub it in.’

  As Tim ran through the answers, Clarrie felt her stomach tighten. The evening had passed in a bit of a blur, with the proposal in the middle and everything, and she couldn’t remember all their answers, but it really seemed like they’d done well. Even Sonny’s dwarf gambit had paid off.

  After marking, the teams swapped papers again. Sonny fetched theirs and came back staring down at it, looking dazed.

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ he muttered as he sank into his seat.

  Clarrie was quivering with nerves. ‘What? Come on, Sonny, don’t be a dick. I’m going mad here.’

  ‘Here, you look. Don’t trust my eyes after that double brandy earlier.’ He thrust the paper towards her.

  She stared at it, blinked, shook it, stared again. ‘Davy,’ she said, pushing it under his nose. ‘That say what I think it does?’

  ‘Er, yeah. Bloody hell.’

  ‘Gem?’

  Gemma took the paper. ‘Jesus, guys. Full marks. I mean… Jesus. When’s that ever happened?’

  Clarrie shook herself. ‘Will it be enough though? Darren’s lot’ll need to have dropped at least six points for us to win. That’s a sixty-four. They hardly ever get less than a sixty-six, and that’s a bad day for them.’