by Sue Watson
‘Ahh, sounds fun,’ I say, exaggerating the look of doubt on my face and thinking how even that sounds more pleasant than dealing with Chloe Thomson’s mother. This afternoon, when I apparently asked one too many questions, she told me to ‘F the F off’ and slammed the door in my face.
‘Yeah, it’s okay actually. Today in court I managed to prevent a young guy going to prison. He’d been forced by his older brothers to help them steal cars, the charge sheet was endless and I used every trick in the book to try to get him a suspended sentence. In the end, all he got was a fine and community service – and you know what he said after the case?’
I shake my head.
‘“I wanted to go back inside, mate.”’
‘Ouch. I think I’d be tempted to say, “Fight your own case next time!”’ I put down my knife and fork; I don’t want any more pizza, I’m too full.
‘Yeah, but these kids don’t stand a chance, do they? It’s like the minute they’re born, their lives are mapped out: peer pressure, poverty, drugs, prison, abuse…’
‘That’s where I come in.’
‘Yeah, I guess you do.’ He’s shaking his head sadly, remembering what happened. ‘And then… it was raining when we walked from the court. He had on a T-shirt and no money for a bus or a train.’
‘That’s sad,’ I say, knowing from my experience that, for some, bus fare is a luxury.
‘So I ended up giving him a lift home.’
I feel my heart swell at this. ‘That was kind of you.’
‘Yes, I hope in some way it helped him feel like I cared beyond the court – not just as someone paid to do a job.’
‘I’m sure it did, some people have never known simple kindness.’
He nods. ‘And how is anyone ever expected to free themselves from a life of crime when they have nothing, and no hope of anything? He’s nineteen and he already feels like he has no future.’
I nod, I know exactly what he means. ‘Gosh, you sound like me. I wrote a piece for a social-work blog recently and said exactly that.’
‘Did you? I’d love to read that sometime.’
I blush slightly, loving the fact he’s taking such an interest.
‘I dropped him off at his flat,’ he continues. ‘Peeling paint, the smell of urine… I gave him thirty quid, it was all I had on me, but, do you know, I swear I saw tears in his eyes. I sometimes wonder why I didn’t become a wealthy, corporate lawyer – but that’s why – for kids like him, who have no faith, and no one fighting for them.’
He looks at me, and I feel a physical tug. This guy is truly wonderful.
He shrugs, and takes a breath. ‘So, are we having dessert again today?’ He lifts the menu, dismissing his heroic act of kindness.
Modest too.
I can’t eat any more, my stomach is in knots, my appetite always diminishes when I fall for someone. It’s all or nothing with me, I’m either fat and single or skinny and in love.
‘I’m too full for dessert,’ I say.
He reaches his hand across the table. The tips of his fingers touch mine. It’s so erotic. He looks into my eyes. ‘I know it’s only our second date, but it’s… good – this.’ He gestures to me and back to him and I nod eagerly.
‘Yes, it’s good,’ is all I can utter. I want to say so much more, I want to tell him how I haven’t felt like this for years, how my ex barely noticed me, how I didn’t think I’d ever be able to love someone again, and it’s all so quick but right now I think it’s happening. But of course I don’t say any of this, I need to take this gently and don’t want to scare him off.
But when he kisses me outside my door a little later and suggests we meet again tomorrow night, I tell him breathlessly, ‘I can’t wait.’
I run up the steps to my flat, while he watches me go in – he’s so sweet, making sure I’m safely inside before leaving. But just as I get inside and walk towards my door, I hear something outside. I turn and a sudden banging on the door scares me half to death. I know I shouldn’t just open the front door, but it might be Alex back to take me in his arms, and even if it isn’t Alex, the banging will wake my neighbours in the downstairs flat.
I go to the door, and open it cautiously – and, to my deep relief, it’s him. I half-expect him to try and kiss me, but he doesn’t.
‘Sorry, Hannah, I don’t have your mobile number!’ He’s leaning in the doorway, breathless, sheltering from the rain. I laugh, relieved it was him, and we swap numbers before he runs off into the rainy night, stopping briefly to wave at me as I stand on the doorstep watching him trip between puddles, lit momentarily by a street light or a passing car.
When he’s finally out of sight, I go inside and dash up two flights of stairs without even feeling it. Falling in love even makes exercise bearable – I could run up twenty flights tonight if I had to! Once inside, I put the kettle on, make a camomile tea and relive the evening in my head. It’s like watching a favourite old film again and again, remembering every nuance, every word, the way his smile gives him a twinkle in his eyes, causing his face to light up suddenly.
I shake my head. It’s early days; I need to stop thinking about him all the time, Jas warned me about that. Oh crap. Crap. Crap. Jas! I promised to go to the cinema with her tomorrow evening, and I’ve just arranged to see Alex. Oh God, I would never be that woman who dumps her friend the minute a man comes along. But, then again, I don’t want to cancel on Alex either. This is new and I don’t want him to think I don’t like him or I’ve changed my mind – or that I’m unreliable. What the hell am I going to do?
Chapter Four
It turns out there’s no way Jas would have let me stand her up tonight. She’s already booked two cinema seats and is even talking about what kind of popcorn we’ll be eating during the film, and it’s only 10 a.m.! I’m going to have to text Alex, I can’t even call him because she’ll hear and I don’t want her to think I was even considering seeing him tonight because it will hurt her feelings. I’m wary of not wanting another lecture from her. Jas’s heart is in the right place but she simply wouldn’t understand what’s already between me and Alex.
So, I text Alex, wanting to let him know as early as possible that I can’t see him tonight. I explain that it’s something I’d previously agreed to and suggest we do something later in the week. He doesn’t get back to me straight away, he’s probably busy.
Harry arrives in the office a little later, carrying a warm almond croissant in a napkin. ‘For you, madame,’ he says, throwing it on my desk.
‘Ooh thank you, but you shouldn’t,’ I say.
‘I should, it’s your favourite. Gemma had some extras, so I grabbed one for you.’
‘You’re right,’ I say, biting into the moist croissant. ‘It is my favourite. When are you going to marry this girl, damnit?’
He laughs, as he saunters over to his desk. ‘I’m too young for marriage. We’re fine as we are.’
‘Sameera’s usually here first, is she not in this morning?’ I ask. She’s closest to Harry.
‘Sameera?’ he says, looking over at her desk. ‘Oh yeah, she’s, er…’ He has to rack his brain. ‘Doing something boring, like getting fitted for a wedding dress, tasting the bloody cake for the hundredth time.’
I laugh. ‘You’re such a lad, Harry.’
‘Well, it’s a load of rubbish, isn’t it?’
‘You might think that, but us ladies of a certain age dream of rubbish like that, I know I certainly do.’
He laughs and shakes his head.
‘Do you ever see you and Gemma getting married?’ I ask.
‘Nope.’ He’s still young, but I’m surprised by his determined reply; he seems so happy with Gemma, so focused on her.
‘Why not?’
‘Dunno, I’ve never really thought about it. And Gemma’s never asked me.’ He shrugs.
‘Yeah, she’s just using you for your body, I reckon.’
‘Let’s hope so, eh?’ he says absently, as he sorts through his post.
I log onto my computer. ‘I was like you once, but as you get older, your perspective changes. I used to think marriage was patriarchal, archaic and all that – but now I think I really could see myself in white lace.’ I don’t mention that in my mind’s eye I’m standing next to Alex, who I only met in the flesh a few nights ago.
Harry looks up. ‘Slight flaw in your plan though – you need to find a groom to match the dress.’
‘Yes, there is that minor point. But the latest contender is looking pretty promising.’ I smile.
‘Oh, really?’ I can see he’s not that interested. I wish Sameera were here, she’s getting married in the New Year and loves talking weddings.
‘Yeah. I like him,’ I say, understating my feelings. ‘It’s early days – we’ve only had two dates – but I’m… hopeful.’
‘I thought you said after whatshisname you weren’t going out with anyone again,’ Harry says, his eyes drifting back to his computer screen, bored of the conversation already.
‘I did, but never say never.’ I pick up the croissant he gave me and change the subject. ‘Thank you, but you mustn’t keep giving these to me, Harry, I’ll get fat.’ Really, it’s a godsend – I never have time for breakfast before I leave, and who knows when I’ll get lunch today.
He smiles and starts typing, apparently our rather one-sided wedding chat now over.
I take a bite of croissant and make a mental note to buy him something in return for all the sweet treats he keeps bringing us all. I check my phone. Alex has texted me back about tonight.
That’s a shame :( but no worries, you enjoy the cinema. I had been thinking I might cook you dinner tonight. I need to make it up to you for me being late on date 2. So how about dinner at mine tomorrow night – if you’d like?
I text him back straight away.
Yes. Thanks, sounds great. I’ll look forward to it. X
This time his reply is instant.
Me too! X
I feel good. I’ve managed the situation and kept everyone happy, which, for an inherent pleaser like me, is all that’s required. Alex is proving to be as perfect as I thought by taking it in his stride, and also confirmed a third date, and he’s cooking. He’s doing everything right.
Later, as Jas and I enjoy the cinema, I realise that I can juggle my slightly needy but well-meaning friend with my new boyfriend, I just have to be sensitive, and not go on about him. We both lust after Ryan Reynolds instead.
‘God, what I would give for fifteen minutes with him,’ Jas says as we leave the cinema and walk to the wine bar for a last drink.
‘Yeah, me too,’ I echo, not really feeling it. What I really think is that I’d rather spend fifteen minutes with Alex, which I know sounds crazy.
‘I loved it, but I felt like the mother in that movie was totally one-dimensional,’ she adds.
I agree, and we sit down with our drinks and talk about the representation of mothers in the media.
‘Mothers get a bad press,’ I say.
‘Yeah, but they’re not all Madonnas.’ She sighs. ‘Look at our mothers.’
‘I find it hard to deal with my mother and my past.’ I sigh. ‘I’d rather think about the future, it helps me overcome the past.’
‘Good luck trying to overcome my past. It’s what shapes us, Hannah, and it doesn’t matter how positive we all try to be – our past is who we are.’
‘Yeah but our lives aren’t pre-destined. Just because my mum was an addict doesn’t mean I am, I’ve fought tooth and nail to have a different life.’
‘Mmm, sadly my life’s a cookie cutter of my mother’s. That guy I’ve been seeing, Richard?’
‘Yes,’ I say.
‘I was right, he’s shagging someone else.’
‘Oh, Jas, that’s crap. Do you know that for sure?’
‘Yes.’ She looks down. ‘I know we were casual, but I thought we were heading somewhere.’
‘Yes, but either way, it was a conversation he should have had with you,’ I say, feeling protective of her. On the surface she seems so strong, always looking out for everyone else, fiercely guarding her friends – yet she’s so vulnerable herself.
‘Exactly. Anyway, I confronted him last night, told him I’d seen some texts on his phone. Hannah, the thing that hurts most isn’t the betrayal. It’s the fact he’d clearly wanted me to see them. And after he’d “confessed”, he said he felt so much better.’
I shake my head. ‘Sorry. I didn’t know you’d actually found proof – texts.’
‘You’ve been busy,’ she says pointedly.
‘Not too busy for you,’ I say, feeling guilty now.
She shrugs and takes a large glug of her drink.
‘I didn’t realise you were exclusive…’ I pause.
‘What do you mean?’ She quickly turns to look at me. ‘It wasn’t that regular, but… it still bloody hurts.’ The flash of anger in her eyes surprises me. It isn’t like her to be snappy, she must be upset.
‘I’m not saying you’re not hurting,’ I add quickly, putting my hand on hers. ‘I just think sometimes you push people away until they go, and then you’re surprised. But it doesn’t sound like he was someone you’d want to stick around anyway,’ I say, back-tracking slightly to spare her feelings. ‘I mean, you said yourself it sometimes felt like a booty call… for both of you,’ I say clumsily, and want to bite my tongue as the words tumble onto the table.
She glares at me. ‘Wow.’
‘I’m sorry that came out all wrong, I was trying to console you, make you feel like you hadn’t actually lost anything but…’
‘But instead you managed to trivialise my relationship and my feelings in one sentence. Nice one, Hannah.’ She takes another large, angry glug of wine.
‘I didn’t mean—’
‘You know what I think?’ she interrupts.
I’m not sure I want to hear this.
‘You’ve had two good dates and suddenly you think you’re the authority on what constitutes a relationship.’ She throws the rest of her wine down her throat and orders two more.
‘I’m not. And I really wasn’t trivialising—’
She lifts up her hand in a ‘stop’ gesture, and I go back to my drink, knowing when she’s like this it’s best to stop apologising, because I’ll only dig a deeper hole. Jas’s calm work persona is quite different from her personal one, where a rather fiery undercurrent sometimes flares up when she’s hurt, or angry.
I realise how I must sound to Jas’s cynical ears, and I don’t blame her for being angry, she probably thinks I’m being a smug know-all. Which I’m not, but I change the subject anyway, and we talk again about the film.
But being Jas, she can’t let it lie, and wounded by what she sees as criticism about her single status, she soon swoops back to me and Alex. ‘So, how is everything in Camelot?’ she asks.
I pretend I don’t hear the sarcasm in her comment, just the humour. ‘Great. He’s cooking for me tomorrow,’ I add, wanting to share this with my friend but at the same time feeling guilty for my happiness.
‘You’ll be moving in next week.’
‘No, that would be too soon.’
‘I was joking,’ she says tartly.
‘So was I.’ I smile. But inside I’m disappointed in Jas’s reaction. She’s supposed to be my best friend and I would love her to support me on this. ‘Jas, I know the timing’s crap, you’ve just finished with Richard,’ I say going along with her relationship narrative, ‘but I wish you could be a tiny bit happy for me. You’ve always been so encouraging before, but this time you seem, I don’t know, really quite negative.’
The penny seems to drop and her face changes, then she puts her arm around me. ‘Babe, I’m sorry, you’re right, I’m being selfish. It’s just that sometimes I look around and see other people in settled relationships, and it reminds me of how I used to be before…’ her voice trails off and I realise I should have known this negativity isn’t about me and Alex. It’s about Tony. She d
oesn’t speak about him much because it’s still so painful, probably always will be.
‘I know you still miss him, even after all this time,’ I say, touching her arm.
She nods. ‘People expect me to be over it, but when someone you love dies, you never get over it. Hell, it’s been years, I was a different person when I was married – but he’ll always be here.’ She touches her chest.
‘I can’t begin to understand the pain.’ I sigh.
‘Sameera getting married makes me think about my wedding day, all the hope, and the optimism. And you’ve met this guy who seems great—’ She puts the emphasis on ‘seems’ and I wince slightly. ‘And when I say things, it isn’t because I’m being negative about him – I just don’t want you to get hurt. So please don’t take my “negativity” as anything more than just me trying to look after my friend.’ She smiles and squeezes my hand. ‘I am happy for you – just cautious.’
‘I know. But I’m good – and what’s the worst that can happen? He could turn out to be as rubbish as Tom? But I want to enjoy the fun and the butterflies bit while it lasts… And I need my bestie with me.’
‘I’m there for you, girl, but you can be naïve – and, let’s face it, I’ll be the one picking up the pieces if this one falls apart, won’t I?’
I bite my tongue. Her comment has annoyed me, but the ice-cold Pinot soothes my hot throat, taking the edge off slightly.
‘I think we both need to start prioritising ourselves,’ I say to Jas. ‘And you, madam, need to stop worrying about everyone else’s love life and concentrate on your own.’
‘What love life? Everyone but me has one. Even bloody Harry’s in a long-term relationship.’ She laughs mirthlessly. I reckon it’s a hazard of the job: she’s great at other people’s relationships but seems to have so much disappointment in her personal life. I’m the same when it comes to clients and friends: I care too much about everyone else and don’t always consider my relationships. Perhaps that’s what happened with Tom and me. If I’d been more present, and not immersed in my job, he might have become a better partner, a more caring, more engaged boyfriend. After all, it takes two.
