Truly, Wildly, Deeply

by Jenny McLachlan

  THIRTY-ONE

  Seven hours later, I’m in Oliver’s back garden, and Hilary and I are trying to prune the little trees with a teeny-weeny pair of scissors.

  ‘Look at me: I’m a giant!’ I say, snipping at a leaf.

  ‘Annie!’ Oliver appears next to us. ‘Put the scissors down!’

  At least, I think it’s Oliver. We arrived early to help get things ready and Oliver was so busy putting peanuts in bowls and hiding owls that he wasn’t in costume. Well, he is definitely In Costume now, and we’re talking head-to-foot, encased-in-black-leather In Costume. And he didn’t just tell me off in his normal voice – he used Batman’s voice!

  This is the best party I’ve ever been to in my life, and Fab’s nowhere near it. I’m cured!

  Oliver’s parents live on a sort of farm so we’re in the middle of nowhere, running round a slightly spooky old house, dressed up as superheroes. Plus there are animals all over the place. I’ve already stroked a dog, two cats, a mink and a chicken. Jim immediately took over the living room and ‘made it mellow’ with candles and some ‘gnarly techno rhythms’. In fact, it’s so gnarly that Hilary and I decided to give our ears a rest in the garden, which is how we discovered the bonsai collection.

  ‘Squirrel Girl told me to do it,’ I say, pointing at Hilary.

  ‘Well, the squirrels told me to do it!’ Hilary is wearing a brown onesie with six ‘squirrels’ sewn on it. All of the squirrels are teddy bears with added tails. And then there’s the tail. Hilary is not going to be doing much sitting tonight.

  ‘Well, you’re banned from the garden,’ growls Batman/Oliver. ‘Get in the Bat Cave!’

  As we weave our way back up the garden, Hilary leans against me and whispers, ‘Is it just me, or has Oliver increased his sexiness by about one thousand per cent just by dressing up as Batman?’

  ‘I can hear everything you’re saying,’ says Oliver, still with the growl, ‘because I’m standing next to you. Plus a thousand per cent doesn’t exist.’

  ‘Oh yeah!’ says Hilary, then she doubles over and giggles so hard all her squirrels shake.

  It’s fair to say that Hilary is in a very silly mood. I’m also in a silly mood, fuelled almost entirely by my mad desire to forget about Fab.

  ‘Don’t do anything silly,’ said Mum when she dropped us off. My God, the woman’s a mind reader.

  We follow Oliver into the front room and he stands in there, arms folded, legs astride, looking around with satisfaction. There are about twenty people crammed into the room: our group, a few boys from Oliver’s old school and some people from college. There’s talking, laughing, a bit of dancing (Mal) and in a corner a noisy game of Dobble is taking place. It really is a very civilised party/gathering.

  I grab another Fanta from a tub of icy water by the fireplace. I need something to wake me up and these Fantas have got my name written all over them – literally, with a red Sharpie.

  I drop down on the sofa just as Jim comes in, carrying two green jellies.

  ‘Ah, Robin,’ says Oliver, arms still folded. ‘I see you have brought the kryptonite jelly.’

  ‘Don’t speak to me like I’m your sidekick,’ says Jim, dumping one jelly on the table then sitting next to me.

  Jim’s Robin costume consists of a lady’s green swimming costume worn over tights with his sequinned duvet cover draped over his shoulders. Every time I look at him I laugh.

  ‘Don’t laugh,’ he says, passing me a Dorito. ‘Eat jelly instead. This is your spoon.’

  The lime jelly goes surprisingly well with the Dorito and soon I’ve polished off a handful of Doritos and half the jelly. Suddenly, I notice that Jim’s watching me.

  ‘What?’ I say.

  ‘That wig. It makes you look different.’

  ‘Yeah? Different how?’

  ‘I dunno. Like I’m talking to Annie’s hot big sister.’

  ‘OK, that was a double-edged compliment, but never mind because I love your jelly. It’s so moreish!’

  ‘That’ll be the vodka,’ he says.

  I pause, my jelly-loaded Dorito halfway to my mouth. ‘Really?’

  ‘Why would I bring just jelly?’

  ‘Er, because it tastes nice?’ I consider putting the jelly back, but then it would be covered in my crisp crumbs, plus I am enjoying it. ‘I guess a bit won’t make me lose my balance entirely.’

  ‘Nah,’ says Jim. ‘You’ll be fine.’

  ‘But what about the gelatine? I’m a vegetarian and I’ve just eaten, like, a fistful of cow jelly.’

  ‘But it tastes so good!’ says Jim, balancing more jelly on a Dorito and moving it slowly towards my mouth.

  And that’s all the encouragement I need to throw my principles to one side, open my mouth and get stuck into a load of vodka, sugar and cow jelly.

  THIRTY-TWO

  At some point, the overhead light gets turned off, a lava lamp is turned on and the music is changed. I dance with Hilary and Mal. Jim puts on Oliver’s mum’s sheepskin coat, then I sit on the sofa and just watch the party taking place around me. The hot girl from my English language class starts to dance in circles in the middle of the rug. She’s wearing a Catwoman mask and a cape which spins round and round with her. She’s making me feel dizzy so I shut my eyes.

  When I open them again, Jim’s sitting next to me making shapes with his hands in the air. He sees me watching him and freezes.

  ‘Why did you stop?’ I ask.

  ‘Because you made me embarrassed.’

  ‘Jim, life’s too short for embarrassment,’ I say, and I realise I’ve repeated word for word what Fab said to me. I even wagged my finger. How annoying: I just relapsed.

  ‘Isn’t embarrassment just your body’s early-warning system that you’re making a fool of yourself?’ asks Jim.

  I shake my head. ‘No, it’s your body’s early-warning system that you care too much about what people think.’

  Jim puts his feet up on the coffee table. ‘But I don’t care what people think.’

  I laugh. ‘Jim, you hate looking stupid. That’s why you make sure you like bands and clothes and comedians that are all just the right side of eccentric.’

  ‘Annie.’ He turns to look at me. ‘I’m wearing my sister’s swimming costume and my mum’s tights. I’m at peace with looking stupid.’

  ‘But we’re all supposed to be wearing stuff like that tonight. Don’t worry about it, Jim.’ I give his knee a pat. ‘You’re a conformist. It’s not a crime. But look at Oliver …’ Right now, Oliver is dancing in role as Batman and he’s doing these weird swoopy movements across the room, crouching up and down and jumping on and off a sofa. ‘He’s the real deal. He never fakes it … Unlike you.’

  ‘Now you’re just trying to wind me up.’

  I am, just a bit.

  ‘How can I prove it to you that I’m not a conformist faker?’

  ‘Ah,’ I say, ‘that’s tricky, because if I suggest something – like put on Rihanna and robot dance – and you do it, well, you’d just be conforming to what I expected, wouldn’t you? Like a big fat faker.’

  ‘So I’m trapped.’

  ‘I’m afraid so, but don’t worry.’ I pat his cheek. ‘I still love you.’

  ‘Unless …’ he narrows his eyes, ‘I do something that genuinely surprises you.’

  At some point during the last five minutes, Jim and I have sort of squished together on the sofa. It’s a squishy sofa, but I could have resisted the squish if I’d really wanted to. I register all this somewhere at the back of my mind as Jim and I look at each other, our faces very close together.

  ‘My mum’s coming to pick me and Hilary up in an hour,’ I say, ‘so you have sixty minutes to surprise me.’

  ‘I only need one minute,’ he says, not taking his eyes off me.

  Now our faces are so close together that I can see the golden flecks in his brown eyes. Someone’s put on one of Oliver’s parents’ Beatles CDs, ‘Here Comes the Sun’.

  ‘Go on then,’ I sa
y. ‘Surprise me.’

  And just like I know he’s going to, he leans forward, puts one hand on the side of my face and kisses me.

  Finally, I think, as I kiss him back, proof that I don’t like Fab.

  I hear someone – Oliver? – laughing, but we don’t stop kissing because very quickly the joke kiss turns into a real kiss, and I’m grabbing hold of the sheepskin coat Jim’s wearing and pulling him to me. And it’s lovely being wrapped tight against someone with my eyes closed. Then, in a distant part of my brain, I realise that although my lips are touching Jim’s lips and my hands are buried in Jim’s hair, I’m not thinking about Jim at all.

  I’m thinking about Fab.

  Fab’s lips, Fab’s arms, Fab’s Bombay Sapphire eyes. I’m imagining that I’m kissing Fab!

  I pull away from Jim so quickly that I leave my wig in his hand.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ he asks.

  I stare at him and all I can think is: I like Fab. How could I have been so stupid? I like Fab!

  ‘Hello?’ He puts my wig back on my head. ‘Earth to Annie!’

  ‘Speaking!’ I say, forcing myself to smile. ‘Sorry, I got distracted.’

  ‘By my amazing surprise?’

  ‘Yep,’ I say, nodding.

  I guess I must look a bit intense because Jim says, ‘That didn’t mean anything, right?’

  I shake my head. ‘No way. I only kissed you because of the swimming costume.’

  He laughs, clearly relieved. ‘Good. I mean, you look hot and everything, but I think that’s mainly down to the wig, and you can’t wear that all the time. Good kiss though?’

  I nod. ‘Good kiss. Very … surprising … Now I need some crisps.’

  I get to my feet, wobble, and Jim pushes my bum to stop me from falling back down.

  A few moments later, I find myself dancing round the room with Hilary to ‘I Saw Her Standing There’.

  ‘What was that all about?’ she asks.

  ‘Oh … nothing.’

  She bursts out laughing. ‘Really? It didn’t look like nothing.’

  And I suppose that’s true, because that kiss was nothing and everything all at the same time, but I don’t get the chance to even think about this because suddenly someone shouts, ‘Mal’s put a chicken in the spider’s web!’ and there’s a stampede into the kitchen.

  THIRTY-THREE

  When I wake up the next morning, a storm is blowing outside, and my mind is in similar chaos.

  Luckily, Hilary’s lying like a starfish on the airbed next to me so I have instant access to counselling.

  ‘Hilary,’ I whisper, ‘are you awake?’

  No. Clearly she isn’t. Her mouth is hanging open and she’s drooling. I lean over and give her a gentle shake.

  ‘Hilary, please wake up. It’s an emergency.’

  ‘What?!’ She jerks awake and looks around, confused.

  ‘Hilary, I need to talk to you.’

  She picks up her phone. ‘At seven twenty-three?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say.

  ‘Just let my eyes open,’ she says, blinking, then rubbing them, then blinking again. She pulls her glasses on. ‘OK, they’re open. What’s so urgent?’

  I curl up on my side so that we’re facing each other. ‘I’m feeling pretty bad about last night.’

  ‘The Jim kiss?’

  I nod, and Hilary reaches over and pats my shoulder.

  ‘Don’t worry about it, Annie.’

  ‘You’re right – I shouldn’t worry about it. I mean, if I can’t have stupid kisses now, then when can I have them? And it was such a little kiss –’

  Hilary laughs. ‘It wasn’t that little. It began during “Here Comes the Sun”, then I sat on a doughnut, went to the toilet, peeled off the doughnut and washed the jam off, and when I came back the kiss was still going on!’

  I groan. ‘Not making me feel better, Hilary.’

  ‘Oh yeah … Sorry.’

  ‘Urrgh.’ I pull a pillow over my head. ‘I feel sick. I mean, it might be the jelly, but I’m fairly certain it’s because of the kiss.’

  ‘But why is it making you feel sick? Jim’s really nice.’

  I peek out from the pillow. ‘I’m thinking maybe I feel so bad because of … Fab?’

  She frowns. ‘But why would you feel bad about Fab? How many times have you told me that you don’t like him … unless …’ She sits bolt upright. ‘You do like him? I knew it! My love radar is not defective!’

  ‘Love? Hilary, don’t say things like that! Call it a like radar. I like him. I accept it. When I was kissing Jim all I could think about was Fab. You’re so right – I do look at Fab all the time. I’ve tried not to, but I can’t stop myself. He’s like Pringles.’ Hilary frowns, but I just carry on. ‘The Jim kiss was supposed to prove I didn’t like Fab, but it didn’t work. It just made me want Fab more than anything!’

  ‘But I thought you didn’t want a boyfriend.’

  ‘I don’t. That’s why I’m groaning. I want Fab, but not all the heavy stuff that would involve.’

  ‘How do you know it would involve heavy stuff? Have you ever asked him?’

  I think for a moment. ‘No, but I can just tell. He’s so old-fashioned. The other week in English he told me he’s looking forward to getting married!’

  ‘So am I,’ she says. ‘In about twenty years! Look, maybe you don’t have to be Fab’s girlfriend. You could be his something else. Just tell him you like him and then talk about it.’

  I emerge from my pillow. ‘You really think I should do that?’

  ‘Yes! You like him and he likes you. One thing I know about Fab is that he’s a kind person. Just tell him everything you’ve told me – well, except for the bit about Jim, obviously.’

  Suddenly, everything seems clearer. She’s right. I do just need to talk to Fab. I’ve been making assumptions about him, something that drives me mad when people do it to me. But I can’t wait until Monday. Fab’s like human sunshine: I need the reassuring glow I get from him right now. I sit up and smile.

  ‘Today’s Saturday, the day of the wedding. Shall I go to the wedding and tell him there?’

  ‘Oh my God, yes!’ She nearly claps her hands with excitement. ‘Ring him!’

  ‘I can’t. I left my phone at Oliver’s.’

  She hands me her phone. ‘Use mine. His number’s under BFG.’

  I find the BFG’s number and take one last look at Hilary. ‘You really think this is the right thing to do?’

  This time Hilary really does clap her hands. ‘Definitely!’

  I take a deep breath as the phone rings once, then twice.

  ‘Hilary!’ Fab sounds wide awake.

  ‘Actually, it’s Annie. I mean, I’m using Hilary’s phone.’ I say all this in a rush.

  ‘Annie?’

  Is it my imagination or has his voice gone a bit flat? I decide it’s my imagination and push on. ‘It’s about the wedding. I’d really like to come, if I’m still invited.’ Down on the floor, Hilary gives me a thumbs up, but the sound of wind and rain falling on the window fills the silence on the other end of the phone. ‘But if it’s a problem, Fab, don’t worry about it.’

  ‘No, of course it is not a problem. My family would love you to come.’

  ‘Really?’

  He laughs. ‘Really! Sorry, I was not expecting you to change your mind.’

  ‘Well … I haven’t seen you much since we went blackberry-picking.’ I take a breath, then add, ‘I guess I’ve missed you.’

  Opposite me Hilary clutches her hands together and mouths, ‘Love it!’

  Again, Fab goes quiet, before saying, ‘I’ve missed you too.’ He sounds sad, totally unlike Fab, and for a moment I wonder if I’ve left it too late. If Fab’s already given up on me. ‘I’ll text the details to Hilary. I’m pleased you are coming, Annie.’

  ‘So?’ says Hilary the moment I hang up.

  ‘It’s fine. All sorted,’ I say, nodding to convince myself this is true.

  ‘Wh
at now?’ She puts her arms above her head and does a big stretch. ‘Seeing as you’ve woken me up ridiculously early, we might as well do something.’

  I push my worries to the back of my mind. ‘We’re going to take our duvets downstairs and I’m going to make us some toast and then we’re going to eat the toast watching endless episodes of Friends. Then we’re going shopping to buy me some shoes.’

  Hilary flops back on the airbed. ‘Best weekend ever!’

  THIRTY-FOUR

  The wedding reception is being held in a barn deep in the countryside and when we eventually find it, Mum pulls up as close to the entrance as possible. She was surprised when I told her I’d changed my mind about the wedding, but when I said it was important and gave her a meaningful look, she agreed to miss Strictly Come Dancing to drive me here.

  ‘You OK to get a taxi back?’ she asks.

  I nod, and look at the silver and purple balloons tied around the door to the barn. The storm has faded away, but the balloons are blowing wildly in the wind and there are still dark clouds in the sky. I put my hand on the door handle, but I don’t open it.

  ‘Feeling shy?’ Mum says.

  More scared, I think, as I stare at the crowd of people milling around the barn door.

  ‘Look, I don’t know why you changed your mind about going to this wedding, but whatever or whoever the reason is, it was enough to make you get all dressed up and wear shoes so it must be important.’

  ‘It is important,’ I say, turning to look at her. ‘He’s important.

  Mum’s been waiting so long for a moment like this that I really admire her restraint. She doesn’t gasp, or try to hug me – in fact, she doesn’t do anything except sit there and wait for me to carry on talking.

  I look back out of the window. ‘Fab likes me. He’s told me that he thinks we’d be perfect together. One week, he even asked me out every single day, like on a proper date, and that’s how we ended up going blackberry-picking. Other people think we’d be perfect together too. They’ve even given us a name: Fannie.’

  ‘Sounds kind of intense, but also kind of lovely.’

  ‘Exactly.’ I keep my eyes fixed on the windscreen, watching as people move in and out of the barn. ‘I do like him, but I’m scared about what might come next.’