Mum laughs. ‘Fab might want to watch the Final Destination films with you.’
‘I hate the Final Destination films.’
‘I know, and he might want to hold your hand all the time.’
‘My skin prickles when even you hold my hand.’
She nods. ‘And he might call you “sweetheart”.’
I shudder. A consultant once called me ‘sweetheart’ so I called him ‘darling’ back. Mum definitely found it funnier than he did.
‘You would lose control, just a bit,’ says Mum. ‘That’s what happens when you’re in a relationship. You might love it. You might hate it. But you’ll never know if you run away from what you’re feeling.’
‘I feel like I’m changing already, Mum. I don’t know who I am. I’m like the Incredible Hulk, but I’m not turning green and massive – I’m turning … romantic!’
She laughs and takes my hand. ‘Annie, you know who you are. You’ll never lose yourself.’
Slowly, I feel my fear lifting and being replaced by something else. Excitement? Energy? I do feel like the Incredible Hulk, but in a good way!
‘Need a Courage Kiss?’ Mum says.
I’m about to remind her that I haven’t willingly accepted Courage Kisses for over five years, but then I realise a Courage Kiss is just what I need so I offer her my cheek. ‘Put it here. Make it a big one.’
Mum gives me a kiss. ‘Fight the fear, beautiful girl!’
I nod, then get out of the car. Mum hands me my crutches from the back seat. I don’t want them, but I know I need to use them.
I watch Mum drive away, then crunch my way across the gravel, really wishing that for once I could make a quiet entrance. Mind you, if I’d wanted to make a quiet entrance, I wouldn’t have worn velvet shoes and a silver dress. At least I match the balloons.
Inside, the barn looks magical: fairy lights are twisted through trailing ivy and a band is playing on a stage.
I see Fab straight away, dancing with some little girls. I watch him for a moment. He’s obviously been wearing a suit, but he’s lost the jacket and now his tie is wonky and his sleeves are rolled up. Those arms. They make me feel a bit weak inside … I mean, even weaker than I already feel.
When Fab sees me, he waves and walks over.
‘Hello,’ he says, stopping in front of me.
‘Hi,’ I say.
We stand there facing each other, and I suddenly feel overwhelmed by uncertainty. I feel like I need to give him some explanation about why I changed my mind, but at the same time I can’t bring myself to say all that, not now. I need to find the right moment.
Luckily, Fab’s gentlemanly instincts kick in and he bursts back into life.
‘You have come at just the right time, Annie, because we are about to start eating. Can I take your coat?’
‘Yes, thank you.’ I shrug off my coat, but I can’t quite shrug off the awkward atmosphere between us.
‘You look very beautiful,’ Fab says.
I smooth down the silver sequins on my dress. ‘Thanks. I feel like a fish covered in scales.’
Fab laughs. ‘A piekna fish.’
Just then, the music is stopped and a man in a tight suit steps up to the microphone.
‘That’s my uncle, Julia’s father,’ says Fab.
Julia’s dad pats his suit down over his ample stomach then says something in Polish.
‘It’s a toast for the bride and groom,’ explains Fab. ‘Come on. You’re sitting with me.’
He leads me to our table and, sure enough, there is a card with Annie Demos written on it in curly lettering. I sit down, but all of a sudden, everyone is standing up again so I jump to my feet.
‘Na zdrowie!’ says the bride’s father.
‘Na zdrowie!’ everyone replies, raising their glasses.
Then a chant breaks out: ‘Gorzko, gorzko!’
‘What does that mean?’ I say to Fab.
He nods towards the bride and groom, who are sitting on a special table at the top of the barn. Julia looks almost unrecognisable from the girl I met at the barbecue. She’s wearing a stiff white dress and a veil that’s pinned to a complicated, twisty hairstyle. Her smile is the same though. She looks happy. Simon looks happy too, and a little overwhelmed.
‘It means “bitter”,’ Fab says. ‘They’re saying the vodka is bitter and the bride and groom need to sweeten it with a kiss.’
Bowing under the pressure, Julia and Simon kiss each other, and for some reason everyone counts to ten before applause erupts around the hall.
I look away. All their kissing is reminding me of last night, and I really don’t want to think of that right now.
Suddenly, bowls of noodles and vegetables are placed in front of us. Soup is ladled on to the bowls, but Fab waves the waiter away before he can touch mine. He reaches under the table and pulls out a Thermos flask.
‘Here,’ he says, pouring soup on to my noodles. ‘This one hasn’t got chicken in it.’
I look at the swirling golden soup. ‘Did you make this for me?’
‘There are a few vegetarians here and they are having tomato soup, but I wanted you to try real Polish food.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, still gazing at my steaming bowl.
I’ve just realised the trouble I must have caused when I rang up this morning. Not only has Fab arranged special food for me, but he would have had to get in touch with Julia and Simon and get the seating plans changed just because I had a sudden whim to see Fab.
I look up at him as he’s taking a sip of his soup. His eyes are closed for a second and I can see where he must have nicked himself shaving. The spoon looks too small in his hands.
I see these things in a rush. And other things too, things that I’ve known but not acknowledged. That at some point before the barbecue in the woods, Fab went there and measured the exact distance from the car park to the blackberry bushes. I think about how he collects the cups for Peggy because he found out that she has arthritis, and how every day this week, before his game of beloved table football, he’s played chess with briefcase boy. And that, unlike me, he’s bothered to find out briefcase boy’s name. It’s Adam.
Fab might be the best person I know. Suddenly, I’m filled with certainty that being here with Fab is where I’m supposed to be. This is the adventure I’ve been looking for.
Fab looks up. ‘What? Don’t you like the soup?’
‘I love the soup,’ I say, then I just smile at Fab, and my smile goes on for so long that he starts to look alarmed.
‘Annie, are you feeling OK?’
I nod. ‘I feel amazing.’ Then I raise my glass and say the first Polish word that pops into my head: ‘Gorzko!’
A man sitting opposite me repeats the word, then everyone around us picks it up, ‘Gorzko, GORZKO!’, and soon the whole room is joining in.
Over on the head table, Julia and Simon dutifully put down their soup spoons and kiss.
‘I did that,’ I say. ‘I made two people kiss on command for ten whole seconds!’
‘Na zdrowie!’ says Fab, chinking his glass against mine.
THIRTY-FIVE
The next few hours pass in a blur of potatoes (chips, mash, boiled), stews, salads, fish and vodka shots – or in my case, apple-juice shots. After some pretty serious animal-eating has taken place, the dancing starts up again, presumably to shake things down so that everyone has room for dessert. There is so much dancing and pudding-eating going on that I really don’t have the chance to talk to Fab, which is good, because I haven’t got a clue what I’m going to say.
At midnight, everyone gathers on the dance floor for the oczepiny. I don’t know what an oczepiny is, but it seems to be something to do with the bride throwing her veil over her shoulder followed by a game that involves passing rolling pins between legs, men running round with women on their backs and balloons being squashed between chests. It’s all too much for me so I just watch, and at some point Fab drops out and appears by my side, all red and breathless.
‘I need to cool down,’ he says. ‘Do you want to go for a walk?’
‘OK,’ I say.
Fab grabs his jacket and we weave our way through the dancing guests and out of the barn doors.
‘There is a bench where you can see the river,’ says Fab, taking my hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world and leading me across the dark lawn. ‘Earlier I saw a kingfisher.’
‘A kingfisher,’ I repeat stupidly.
My heart has sped up, partly because my hand is being held – although that’s not making me want to scream, not one tiny bit – but mainly because surely this is it: the moment I’ve been waiting for.
We sit on a damp bench, Fab lets go of my hand and we both stare in silence at the river. Music drifts across from the barn and I shiver.
Fab says, ‘You are quiet tonight.’
‘I know,’ I say.
Then I take a deep breath of cold air and breathe out slowly. I’ve never done this before – told someone I’ve liked them. It’s such a little thing, just saying a few words, but for me it’s a huge thing.
‘There’s something I want to tell you,’ I say, still staring at the river. ‘You know that time in the canteen, after we went blackberry-picking, when I said that I didn’t want to go out with anyone?’
Fab laughs. ‘As it happens, I do remember that.’
I turn to face him. ‘The thing is, Fab, I think I was wrong when I said those things. I mean, I still don’t think I want to be anyone’s girlfriend, but I do want to be your … something.’
‘My something?’ He smiles, then shakes his head. ‘I don’t think you mean that. It is just that I am here, you are here … it’s a wedding –’
‘But I do mean it!’ I don’t know what I thought Fab would say, but I expected something more than this. I guess I hoped he’d be pleased, not amused. ‘Like I said on the phone, I’ve missed you.’
He shifts around on the bench and nods. Then he says, ‘OK.’
But I know from the look on his face that it’s not a Let’s go for it! OK. It’s more of a This is awkward OK.
I start to get a horrible feeling inside. ‘What’s wrong?’
He shrugs. ‘It’s just, I’ve seen all the pictures on Instagram.’
I feel cold. Inside and out. ‘Instagram? I left my phone at Oli’s party last night. I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘The pictures of the party,’ he says, and I feel sick because I know exactly what he’s going to say next. ‘The pictures are of you and your friend, Jim.’
In the excitement of getting ready for the wedding and seeing Fab, I’d almost forgotten about last night. I sigh and shut my eyes for a moment, but there’s no use pretending the pictures don’t exist.
I hold out my hand. ‘I suppose I’d better see them,’ I say.
Fab passes me his phone and I find the pictures buried in a load from the party. They were taken by the girl from my English language class, Francesca. There’s one of my face mashed into Jim’s, our hands all over each other, and the next one shows his hand squeezing my leg and my hands buried in that stupid sheepskin coat he was wearing. I’m smiling in the next one, my eyes closed and my hand resting on Jim’s face.
It looks like I’m massively into him, but I know that while those photos were being taken I was thinking about Fab! Everything makes sense now: Fab’s strange reaction to me on the phone this morning, the awkward atmosphere when I turned up, how he just looked at me like I was mad when I said I wanted to be his ‘something’.
I turn the phone over. I can’t stand looking at the pictures any more.
‘I didn’t know about these,’ is all I can think to say.
Fab nudges me. ‘Forget about it. Everyone at college will forget about it too. All the time there’s stuff going up like this.’
‘Pictures that will exist forever.’
‘So, ask her to take them down.’
‘That won’t help if people have already seen them.’
I breathe in the cold air and keep my eyes fixed on the river. My heart is pounding and my legs are shaking. Those pictures tell a story, but one that isn’t true, and they make me look like a liar.
I hand his phone back. ‘These photos. They’re not what they look like. Me and Jim, we were mucking around.’
‘Annie, it is not important. Like you keep telling me: we’re just friends. You can do what you like. I can do what I like …’ His words seem so cold, so unlike anything I’ve ever heard Fab say, that I have to turn and look at him.
‘But … ?’ I say.
‘But we are obviously completely different people. I would not kiss someone to “muck around”.’ He pauses here to draw little speech marks in the air. It’s not something I’ve ever seen him do before. He laughs and shakes his head. ‘I would kiss them because I wanted to be their “something”!’
‘Well, maybe we are different people,’ I say. ‘You want a girlfriend, but I don’t want a boyfriend. You’d never have a stupid kiss at a party, but it turns out I would. Does it matter if we’re different? You said we were perfect together!’
‘I think, maybe, that you are not the person I thought you were.’
Fab’s not saying this to be mean – he’s saying this because it’s what he thinks, and this hurts me more than he could imagine. Anger flares up inside me.
‘So these photos have totally changed your opinion about me?’
Fab stares straight ahead and keeps his mouth closed. It’s like he’s shut down and taken away all that warmth that usually flows between us. I want to tell him that if it wasn’t for that kiss, I wouldn’t be here now, that it made me realise how much I like him, but I can’t do that.
‘It was a kiss, Fab, that’s all. You and me, we weren’t going out. I haven’t cheated on you!’
He nods. ‘I know. But that is how it felt when I saw the pictures.’
Suddenly, I have the horrible thought that I might cry. Tonight has been ruined because now I know that from the moment I turned up, Fab has been watching me and judging me.
‘I want to go home,’ I say.
‘You don’t have to go home. We are friends, remember?’ He says this politely. He says it like he doesn’t mean it. ‘They haven’t even cut the cake yet.’
I turn to look at him. ‘I don’t think we are friends.’
Still staring at the river, he nods and says, ‘Maybe you are right.’
I’m shivering all over and Fab’s fists are clenched together. Neither of us can look at each other.
Like I said, everything is ruined.
‘Please will you call a taxi for me?’ I ask.
‘Of course.’ He pulls out his phone and dials the number.
After a quick conversation, he tells me that the taxi will take half an hour. We sit in silence. I’m feeling too angry and hurt to speak, and I know Fab is too. I wonder how we’re going to fill the time, because I don’t think I can stand another minute of this.
‘Annie! Fab!’ Paulina’s voice rings across the lawn. ‘Simon and Julia are dancing and it’s really funny because Simon can’t dance. You’ve got to come and watch!’
Perfect. I give Fab back his jacket as we walk towards the barn.
‘I will find your coat,’ he says.
‘Thank you.’
Neither of us is using their normal voice. In fact, I feel like I’m walking next to a stranger. And the saddest thing is, I know this is what Fab is feeling too.
THIRTY-SIX
The next morning, I refuse to get out of bed. I just lie there, feeling sad and then feeling annoyed that I kissed Jim, and then angry with Francesca for taking the photos, and then furious with Fab for judging me so quickly. Dark thoughts swirl round my head in a constant cycle until I can’t think straight.
As it happens, no one’s trying to make me get out of bed, but if they were, I would definitely refuse.
At around eleven o’clock, Mum brings me a cup of tea, but I pretend to be asleep. A
t twelve she comes into the room all dressed up and tells me she’s meeting a friend for a posh roast, whatever that is, and asks if I want to come.
‘No,’ I mutter, from my cocoon of duvet, pillow and snuggle blanket. I’m now reading Wuthering Heights and I’ve decided that as I’ve still not got my phone I’m going to lie low for the day and not even go on Facebook. Right now I want to smash up every computer and phone in the world. Well, maybe I’ll save one so I don’t lose my pictures of Alice and Mabel.
‘Are you sure you’re OK, Annie?’ she asks, glancing at the time on her phone. ‘Nothing happened last night?’
I look up at her. ‘No. It was fun. I’m just tired.’
‘Everything went OK with you and Fab?’ she asks, narrowing her eyes.
‘Yeah, fine,’ I say breezily. Except that now there is no me and Fab.
She won’t let it go. ‘So are you two going out?’
I interrupt her. ‘Mum, no one “goes out” these days. We’ll just see what happens.’
Mum gets the message and after tucking my hair behind my ear and giving me a lingering worried look that I can’t stand, she leaves me alone.
When she gets back, I’ve fallen asleep and when I wake up I can smell rock buns. Mum makes the best rock buns in the world, but today the smell of butter, sugar and cinnamon does nothing for me.
I plod downstairs with my snuggle blanket wrapped round me and Alice and Mabel balanced on my shoulders. ‘Do you want to watch a film?’ says Mum. ‘It’s definitely a film-in-the-afternoon weather.’
‘OK,’ I say, ‘but I only want to watch Kill Bill.’
‘The one about the woman in a yellow tracksuit hunting down her husband? But I hate that film, Annie. It’s so cold and violent.’
I wander into the front room, my snuggle blanket trailing behind me. ‘Well, it’s the only film I want to watch.’
THIRTY-SEVEN
The next day, I make my way into college rather sheepishly.
I’m hoping that during the course of Sunday, everyone will have conveniently forgotten about the photos of me and Jim, but I realise this isn’t going to happen the moment Jackson sits opposite me on the train.
Truly, Wildly, Deeply Page 13
