Several possible answers occurred to me and I allowed myself a few moments to imagine what his reaction would be if I said no, that I needed him and that he should leave the after-party and come be with me. I wasn’t crazy enough to play that game, however, and anyway, it wasn’t as if tonight was the ideal time to test his commitment to me versus Allsopp, Hudson and Clarke.
Yes, I texted back in the end; the word looking stark below the on-screen catalogue of my other effusive responses to him.
The dots appeared to indicate that he was writing back and, absolutely certain that it wouldn’t do me any good to see his response, I switched my phone off. It seemed dramatic, but I knew it was the right thing to do. Silent wasn’t going to cut it this time, I would be too tempted to look over and see what he’d said. For good measure, I threw my mobile into my clutch and then stuffed it under a couch cushion.
There. Done.
I crawled into bed, my whole body seeming to ache with the effort, hoping against hope that I could sleep the whole wretched night off along with the acai cosmos.
*
That, Theo decided as he entered his flat and tugged his tie loose, had not been at all how he’d seen his evening ending.
He’d known when he’d taken the position with AHC that part of the deal was the politicking and schmoozing, but no-one had warned him just how close to home that would come. Not that he’d minded walking Giovanna back; even with her drunk and clearly on the verge of tears every step of the way, it’d still been the best conversation he’d had all night. And there’d been no way he was leaving her to O’Connor even if she had the conversational prowess of a gnat.
He was shrugging out of his jacket when he felt the inside pocket start to vibrate. He pulled his phone out to see that, of course, Ari was calling.
‘It’s past midnight,’ he said ruefully as he answered. ‘I think you can consider yourself well and truly off the clock.’
‘Hey, remember how the last thing you said to me before heading out tonight was “no dramas”?’ His assistant’s endlessly chipper voice was predictably upbeat, but there was an undercurrent that made Theo cautious.
‘Yes.’
‘Oh, okay, so do you need a definition of drama? Because I have one for you: drama is going home with your arch-nemesis’s girlfriend.’
His phone gave another pulse and Theo pulled it away to see that Ari had sent him a picture. He closed his eyes in resignation as he saw a candid photo of himself entering the lift on the top floor of the High-Rise, his hand reached out solicitously to a beautiful, curly-haired woman in a green dress.
Returning his phone to his ear, he said, ‘It’s not what you think,’ before wincing as he realised how false and clichéd that sounded.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, is that not you?’ Ari asked shrilly. ‘Is that not O’Connor’s girlfriend? Is that not the two of you leaving together?’
‘It’s all of those things, but it’s not the end result you’re thinking of. Would I be answering the phone if it was? She’s my neighbour, I just walked her home.’
Ari’s laugh sounded like a cackle. ‘Only you, Bossman, could have the whole company talking about how you stole another man’s girlfriend away for a night of hot sex, and not actually get to have the hot sex.’
Theo flopped down onto the couch, leaning his head back tiredly as he murmured, ‘It’s a talent.’
‘No, it’s pathetic,’ Ari retorted chirpily, ‘but at least it’s going to make work on Monday very interesting.’
4
‘Baker, I’m here when you’re ready to talk.’
Aggie was dead. I was locked in her flat and, as far as I was concerned, there I was going to stay.
I wanted to be alone, to bury myself in Aggie’s things and pretend, as I clung to the clothes and possessions that still held traces of her spicy perfume, that she wasn’t gone, not really. Simultaneously, however, I was deeply afraid of being alone, of letting those I loved out of my sight in case they, too, disappeared.
It was Dec who was seeking a not-so-happy medium, parking himself outside Aggie’s door and refusing to leave until I did. Every now and again he spoke up, reminding me he was there and that it was all going to be all right, but most of the time he sat in silence, a comforting, guarding presence I drew so much strength from.
Hours he’d spent, sitting on the cold tiles outside that door; hours and hours that he’d devoted to me in my time of need, and now . . .
I started in my sheets, becoming suddenly and alarmingly conscious.
It was the present, Aggie had been gone for two long years, and as the seconds ticked by, the raging pain I’d felt at first losing her and that I’d felt again in the dream, dampened to its customary dull roar.
I sat up gingerly, my limbs sticky and heavy, and peered blearily around the flat that looked so different from how it had during that time I’d shut the world out in the futile hope that it would hold the true horror of Aggie’s loss at bay.
It’d happened before, this half-dream, half-memory where I was dragged unwillingly back to the worst time of my life, but there was something different about this morning. The fact was that I was fairly sure I hadn’t just imagined that Dec was sitting outside my door as he had back then . . .
‘Please let me in, Gio, come on.’
Oh god. He was outside my door. Why was he outside my door?
And then the events of the previous evening hit me like a truck: Zoë’s warning; Dec’s verbal slap; the walk home with the Nod Next-Door. It all played back in vivid detail, setting my stomach roiling with more nausea than could be attributed solely to the cosmos I’d knocked back.
Wanting to know the time and just generally orientate myself, I reached for my phone on the bedside table – which was less a table and more a stack of large cookbooks that served the same function – but it wasn’t there. For a moment I was flummoxed, putting my mobile on the books next to my bed was a night-time ritual on par with brushing my teeth, something I realised in the next second that I’d also skipped the night before.
‘I was a dick last night. I’m sorry, can you just let me in so I can apologise properly to your face?’
No, said a fierce little voice in my head as Dec’s request floated plaintively through the flat. The voice in my head was obviously the one that belonged to common sense and, for once in my life when it came to Dec, I was going to heed it. I was in absolutely no state to deal with him. I was barely in a state to deal with myself.
I needed to take things slowly and, to that end, I set my brain to mapping out my next steps as if in a recipe book.
Step 1 – Get out of bed.
Step 2 – Don dressing gown.
Step 3 – Drink a glass of water.
Step 4 – Go to the toilet.
Step 5 – Brush teeth.
Step 6 – Check phone.
All small, manageable steps I could cope with. With a few steadying breaths to keep my relatively minor hangover at bay, I set out to complete them.
I moved as carefully as possible, wincing at the racket the water made coming out of the tap and the flush of the toilet, as I was sure Dec would be able to hear them and know I was awake. Sure enough, as I padded out of the bathroom with a lighter bladder and a mintier mouth, he rapped loudly on the front door.
I desperately wanted to tell him to go away, but I didn’t trust myself to actually enter a conversation with him, past experience having told me that he could pretty much charm me into anything. And I didn’t want to be charmed. Not this time.
Although Dec knew I was incredibly lax at locking my door, he’d never come in without my say-so and I sank onto my couch and fished my phone out from the cushions I’d hidden it under the previous night.
I’d only wanted to turn my phone on as a sort of security blanket thing; unused to it being off, I hadn’t actually expected to have missed any calls or texts. As it reconnected to the network, however, it began to practically dance ‘La Cucaracha’ as it vibrated with a
whole host of notifications.
Jumping in surprise at the sudden barrage of noise and movement, I quickly shoved it back under the cushion, trying to deaden the din it was making. Once it’d stopped jittering about, I withdrew it and looked down at the cluster of messages that told me I had a significant number of missed calls and texts.
Dec’s attempts to contact me made sense; the fact that he was sitting outside my door was proof enough of that. And Zoë’s messages and calls demanding to know how the previous evening had gone down were no less unexpected. She’d obviously had a premonition about how it was going to go and wanted to know if she’d been correct. I’d also told my mum about my planned excursion to the famous High-Rise and I’d received a typically emoji-splattered text from her asking how the evening had been. Making a distracted mental note to remind her that ‘lol’ didn’t mean ‘lots of love’, I turned to the new name among the familiar: Vanessa Allsopp.
Scrolling quickly to her first text, one that she’d sent at about half-midnight, I read: Where are you? Thought you were coming? O’Connor looks lost w/out you.
Then, only an hour or so ago, she’d added: Shame I missed you last night. Must catch up for coffee soon. xxxx
What was that all about? I was flattered by her attempts to progress our brief interaction, but mightily confused by them as well. I’d basically forgotten all about her in the ensuing drama of the evening, but I’d presumably made a more lasting impression on her. How or why, though, I couldn’t think.
‘Gio, could you at least let me know you’re okay?’
I started, and the sloshy heaviness in my stomach couldn’t just be attributed to the water I’d gulped down.
If only Dec’d realised what a tool he had been the night before, preferably before he’d described me as a last resort, I’d have been delighted with his determination to see me. Now, however, I felt too burnt and raw by the things he’d said and the way he’d responded to my reaction, and needed some time to shore my hurt feelings up before I talked to him again. But how was I supposed to explain that to him without talking to him? It was a Catch-22 that left me frozen on the couch.
‘Seriously, last night was–’
There was the sound of a door opening and my heart gave a little stutter of panic.
‘Killer.’ Dec’s tone shifted immediately back into the one he’d used the previous evening. ‘I forgot you lived across the hall.’
Lie.
‘Maybe you should leave it for today, yeah?’ The soundproofing in such an old building was terrible, but Theo’s voice was softer than Dec’s had been and I left the couch and drifted closer to the door to hear him.
‘What?’ There was a scuffling sound that suggested Dec had just got to his feet.
‘Giovanna,’ Theo explained, and I could just imagine Dec’s expression at hearing my so rarely used full name. ‘You’ve been out here for half an hour trying to get her to let you in, and she hasn’t. If she’s there, I think she’s making it pretty clear that she doesn’t want to talk to you.’
‘Didn’t realise you guys were suddenly such great buddies, mate.’
There was nothing matey in the way Dec had said ‘mate’, it was pure belligerence, and I placed my hand on the doorknob as I realised that, if he carried on with this attitude with a guy who I presumed was his superior, I was going to need to let him in if only to make sure he didn’t screw something up with the job he set so much store by.
There was a pause, and then the Nod Next-Door murmured, ‘I’m just suggesting you take a hint.’
Oh, no, Dec would not like that.
In the next second, I’d wrenched the door open and reached for Dec, planning to drag my friend forcibly into the flat to prevent him snapping back with something detrimental to his career.
I froze, however, at the clipping sound of brisk footsteps and Dec, Theo and I turned to see Zoë approaching from the stairwell. She slowed, presumably taking in the strange tableau of my neighbour standing stiffly before a bristling Dec, who was being restrained by my hand on his wrist.
‘What’s going on?’ she asked and then, when none of us replied, she switched her attention to me, her piercingly blue eyes narrowing. ‘Why does it reek of testosterone out here?’
This was obviously all too much for Theo and, although I was too mortified to look at him, I heard him murmur, ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ and his door close again.
‘Were you having attitude with the Nod Next-Door?’ Zoë demanded of Dec in the ensuing silence.
He gave a small grunt. ‘No, he was having it with me.’
‘Why?’
Before he could answer, I gave Dec’s arm a tug. ‘Inside,’ I hissed. I dragged him across the threshold. Zoë followed and closed the door behind us.
‘So,’ she said, ‘someone want to fill me in?’
It was obvious that neither he nor I wanted to do that at all. As I looked away, my eye fell on the suit jacket lying on the floorboards where I’d thrown it the previous night and, more confident with a prop in my hands, I picked it up.
‘Here’s your jacket,’ I said, holding it out.
‘That’s really not what I came here for,’ he said, making no move to take it and, instead, scrubbing his hands across his face. Looking at him properly for the first time, I saw that he was pale and pinched, his freckles standing out darkly against his wan skin. No concealer today, then.
‘Last night was a mess,’ he said flatly. ‘I said something stupid that you weren’t supposed to hear and then handled the stuff afterwards badly. I’m sorry, okay?’
‘What did you say?’ Zoë demanded, but I shot her a look, silently asking her to give us a minute.
‘Do you get why I’m so upset, though?’ I asked Dec, hoping our many years of friendship would offer him some insight into my real issue with the way he’d dismissed me in front of his workmates. In my heart of hearts, I knew I hadn’t been that subtle about my crush on him.
‘I know part of it is what Michaels said, but–’
‘I don’t care what Michaels said,’ I snapped. ‘I don’t even know him, why would what he says matter? It’s what you say that matters to me.’
He stared at me, clearly deeply uncomfortable, but either unwilling or unable to understand what I was getting at.
‘You should go,’ I said, suddenly feeling incredibly tired.
‘Baker–’ He stepped forward, but Zoë was there, putting herself between us and shaking her head.
‘She told you to leave.’
‘Don’t get involved in this,’ he said tiredly, looking past her to me and adding, ‘What I said doesn’t matter because I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry–’
‘She doesn’t want to hear it,’ Zoë snapped, my defender as always. ‘So rack off before I knock on her neighbour’s door and ask him to come and escort you out. I doubt he’d mind, he looked like he was only a second or two off doing it before I got here.’
They stared each other down, something I’d watched them do at least a hundred times over the years. As always, Zoë won and Dec stepped towards the door with a heavy sigh.
‘When you’re ready, you can call, yeah?’ he said to me. ‘Any time.’ And then, snatching up his jacket, he left.
As soon as the door closed behind him, Zoë turned to me and threw her hands up in the air. ‘What the hell was that about?’
‘Bed,’ I told her, turning and heading towards the piece of furniture in question.
I climbed under the rumpled covers, only just resisting the temptation to pull them over my head and refuse to ever emerge. That kind of cowardly behaviour was not going to cut it, though, as the mattress dipped down and Zoë climbed in after me. There was no hiding from her.
So I told her everything. It was a warts and all account, but one I delivered staring straight up at the ceiling, knowing it’d be easier to get through if I didn’t have to see Zoë’s every grimace and eye roll as I went back over the scene at the High-Rise. It felt a bit like I was telling
the story to myself: laying the previous evening out and poring over where the real issues lay. And, to be honest, the more I talked, the more the real issues didn’t appear to be lying where I thought they would.
‘Then I woke up this morning and Dec was outside and that pretty much brings you up to date,’ I finished after several long minutes.
Zoë let out a long, low whistle, but didn’t immediately reply, which was incredibly suspect behaviour coming from her.
I sighed. ‘So, go on then. This is where you say “I told you so”.’
Compounding the surprise of her reticent behaviour, she reached over and gave my hand a sympathetic pat before saying, ‘I’ll pass.’
I rolled my head to look at her in astonishment and she added, ‘I mean, I’m definitely thinking it, but I’m holding myself back from actually saying it out loud.’ We both considered this new, Zen approach of hers for a moment and then she concluded, ‘I think I must be growing as a person.’
‘Wow.’
‘Yeah.’ She looked pious for a moment and then ruined it by suddenly snarling, ‘Which doesn’t mean I’m not going to rip Declan limb from limb next time I see him.’
This, at least, made me laugh. ‘Hmm, I think you may just have shrunk a bit,’ I told her and she sat up abruptly.
‘No, I’m not the one who’s small in this,’ she said firmly. ‘That’s Declan, one hundred per cent. I hope you see that now.’
‘He may have lost a few centimetres in my estimation,’ I admitted before groaning and turning to press my face hard against the pillow so that my next words were lost in the padding.
‘What?’
Zoë pulled at my shoulder and I reluctantly released my face from the confines of my pillowcase and repeated, ‘Except he didn’t do anything he hasn’t been doing for years.’
‘Well, ain’t that the truth.’ She slipped out of bed, heading towards the kitchen, before stopping and swinging back around to add, ‘And that’s his issue, not yours.’
‘Yeah,’ I said slowly, ‘except Dec told me years ago that he wasn’t interested in me romantically and he’s stuck to that while I’ve been the one pushing for more.’ I sat up and reached for a hair-tie to pull my hair back in a bushy bunch as I forced myself to prod at the painful niggle in my brain that said I was at least partly to blame for being so upset the previous evening. ‘All he did last night was say that I wasn’t his first choice of date–’
Cake at Midnight Page 6
