We sat, one at each end of the long three-seater, and drank our tea. Charlie slipped his shoes off and stretched his legs out towards me, tucking his toes in behind my back.
‘Oi!’
‘What?’ he asked me, as he slid onto his back, his arms up behind his head.
My mouth became dry again, my tummy fluttering with excitement. I kept my eyes straight ahead, my tea cupped in my hands, and looked out the window. I felt enormously self-conscious as he watched me sip. My lips. My tongue. I wanted to put it down but it was giving me something to do. Charlie was gently rubbing his feet up and down the small of my back and I felt the heat rising in my face again. Eventually I couldn’t bear it any longer and took a deep breath, set the tea down in front of me on the table and turned to him.
It didn’t take long and afterwards I lay on top of him, panting for several moments.
‘Jesus,’ I finally managed to say, and I picked my head up off the cushion next to his and looked at him. He was strangely unreadable. I lifted my bum into the air and he inhaled as I left him. I retreated to my end of the couch again, putting my boobs back into place, and pulled my top down. I fished my pants off the floor and put them on but waited to put on my jeans. I didn’t quite fancy squeezing myself in just yet.
Charlie lay there completely relaxed, making no effort to put his bottom half on again.
‘Do you recognise this sofa, Sam?’ he asked me after a while.
I looked at it. ‘It’s not . . .’ I trailed off, rubbing my hand across the leather. I hadn’t noticed it to start with but it had obviously had a life.
‘The very same. Dad gave it to me when I bought this place.’ He looked down the sofa at me. ‘Do you remember fucking like rabbits on it when we were together?’
‘I remember your brother walking in on us.’
‘Which time?’
‘What do you mean, which time? I only remember it happening once – that was traumatising enough!’
I remembered one Friday night when Jimmy was out at a party, and Charlie and I had the boys’ den to ourselves. We’d been watching something . . . what was it? Ha, I almost laughed out loud when I remembered. Mission: Impossible. It wasn’t the first time we’d seen it, so most of our time had been spent . . . well . . . our hands had been occupied elsewhere. The film was only halfway through when I was on top of Charlie, the light from the screen flickering on my bare bum as it rocked back and forth. It was at that moment that Jimmy stumbled in, pissed as a fart.
Charlie and I froze, in a position I have seared on my memory for life. He stared for what felt like a long time but was probably only a heartbeat, and then hiccupped, ‘Whoops! Don’t mind me,’ and stumbled out again. I had collapsed onto Charlie in embarrassment, wanting to giggle and talk about what had happened – which I did – while Charlie continued with the job at hand.
‘What did you mean by which time?’ I asked.
‘Oh nothing,’ he said lightly.
I persisted. ‘What did you mean?’ I stared him out until he closed his eyes and sighed.
‘Oh, I think there were a few other times that he saw us.’
‘How do you know?’ I heard myself squawking.
‘Oh, I saw his little eye peering through the door a few times.’
‘I don’t remember that!’
‘You were usually on top, Sam, as you like it so much.’
‘No!’ Not sweet little Jimmy! Two years younger than Charlie, he had a floppy mop of hair like his brother’s but much blonder. He idolised Charlie and was always trying to impress me, saving up little stories from his week, hoping to make me laugh. I knew he had a crush on me but I’d assumed it was a sweet and innocent crush, based on mucking around together, both showing off in front of Charlie, teasing each other. It wasn’t, I thought, based on any first-hand sightings of my private parts.
‘Why didn’t you tell him to go away?’
‘Oh, I told him all about it after you’d leave. He never looked for long anyway, just long enough to refresh his memory.’
‘Refresh his memory!’ I threw a cushion at him. ‘That was my bum he was looking at!’
‘And your breasts.’
‘You shit! You’re nothing more than a pimp!’ I leapt onto Charlie and we wrestled until he pinned me on the floor.
Later, we finally extricated ourselves from each other and dressed. Charlie made another cup of tea and we sat at the table, absent-mindedly reading the paper together. I felt warm and filled up. I’d forgotten completely about the existence of Lucy until the sound of footsteps on the stairs had Charlie jolt upright and look, confused, towards the door. My heart leapt into my stomach, creating a shock wave that I was sure was going to have me off my chair.
In she strode, even more beautiful in person: tall and thin, wearing skintight white jeans and a full-length Puffa, and holding a large black tote.
‘Hiiiii . . . oh.’ She looked at me and then at Charlie.
He found his voice quickly. ‘Hi, babe, you’re home early! This is Sam, an old friend.’
‘Oh, hello.’ Lucy crossed the room to shake my hand. All very formal. I offered a reluctant hand, wishing I could have found an excuse not to touch her. I was sure I just reeked of sex.
Lucy walked to the sofa – Charlie and I watching her with horror – and slung her jacket over the back and wandered into the kitchen. Good, that must mean we put all the pillows on the floor back on the couch again. I moved my head around, catching a strained glance from Charlie as I did so.
‘So . . . I thought I’d come home a day early and surprise you.’ I had missed the first bit of the story; my head was full of white noise, pure panic.
‘Well, I’m surprised, darling,’ he called into the kitchen, as if she was more than a couple of yards from his seat. Strange how fright can make people louder and brighter – you’d think they’d get quieter. I swallowed.
‘I hope I haven’t interrupted anything,’ Lucy asked.
‘No, nothing exciting, babe. Sam here is an old friend, a bit like a cousin in a way. We’ve been putting the world to rights.’
‘Oh? I don’t think you’ve mentioned her before,’ she replied coolly, bringing her tea to the door of the kitchen.
A bit like a cousin? My face was going to crack with this smile. I dropped it for a moment although that was probably the wrong thing to do. Now I probably looked upset as well as guilty.
‘Don’t lump me into your family, thank you very much. I’ve got a perfectly respectable one myself.’
Lucy smirked and I relaxed, ever so slightly. But I had to get out of there. I felt sick. I stood up.
‘I should get going really, get home for supper.’ I picked my jacket up off the back of my chair and put it on, my heart thumping loudly enough to be heard.
‘Oh, don’t let me change your plans,’ Lucy said.
‘No, really, I should be going. I just popped by for—’
‘A cup of tea,’ finished Charlie. No, that wasn’t a good look. Hesitation over explanations was dodgy. God, could this be any worse? I walked over to the couch to find my handbag and there I saw that yes, things could get infinitely worse. Slumped quietly on the floor, down the end that Charlie was sitting in originally, was a condom – a white, shiny bomb. My stomach was in my mouth instantly, along with my heart, my morals, my backbone. It was very crowded in there and for a moment I was sure I was going to empty everything all over the cream sofa but I swallowed it all down. How could Lucy have missed seeing it when she put her coat down? And how the hell was I going to pick it up without being noticed? Lucy and Charlie were standing yards away, watching me. My handbag was sitting uselessly on ‘my’ end of the sofa. Perhaps . . . my mind raced . . . yes, it could work. I braced myself; I didn’t have an option. I walked around to get my bag from the sofa. From here, it would have made sense to the onlooker for me to walk back around the back of the sofa and go to the door. Instead I awkwardly manoeuvred my way through the small gap between the sofa and tabl
e, bending over as I did to smell the lilies. I could feel them watching me, no doubt bemused by my strange actions, and I hoped Lucy couldn’t see me shaking as I inhaled the pollen deeply. There . . . and here it comes, a rushing, bubbling a-tish-hoo! that forced me to drop me bag.
‘Bless you!’ came the beautifully intonated vowels from behind. Eyes streaming, I bent down to retrieve my bag, scooping up the condom as I did so. I straightened, holding my bag close to my body in one hand, like a little dog, with the squelching condom wedged wetly between my fingers and the bottom of my handbag. I prayed it wasn’t slipping between my fingers and wouldn’t dangle into view. I turned back towards the kitchen, my vision blurry and sinuses still buzzing. I went to rub my eyes with my free hand and discovered I had somehow got pollen on my hand. I looked at the orange on my fingertips. I’d probably got it smeared all over my face. What a muppet. I felt completely out of my depth. I had no place here in this smart house with my falling-apart cheap pumps, my unbrushed hair and my orange-smeared face. I longed to be home in the safety of Queen’s Park.
‘Well, bye then, see you again, nice to see you both,’ I said, cheeks burning. Lucy came over to say goodbye, offering her hand again, but my right hand was full of hidden bagged semen and my bag. I held up my left hand to show her the pollen on my fingers, as if to say, sorry, really messy, darling, can’t shake! And then I disappeared down the stairs, my heart hammering under my ribs, with Lucy calling out behind me, ‘Bye, Sam, nice to meet you.’
33
ED
I stood across the road from the hospital, watching the faces leaving the silent, revolving doors. Now and then I would glance quickly at the pic on my phone from Charlie’s Facebook page, just to refresh my memory. But when he appeared I realised immediately that any concerns about not recognising him were pointless. I would have recognised Charlie on a dark, foggy night. He stood tall and confident, and that haircut was for real, straight out of Four Weddings. Charlie paused for a moment, as if thinking about what direction he was going in, and then set off down the street. I followed him at a discreet distance, feeling full of fizz. It was the same buzz I felt when I was on the scent of a strong image.
Charlie reached a cluster of upmarket bars and restaurants, which even on a Monday evening were starting to fill up with City workers. He entered a dark bar. I followed. It was warm inside. A curved bar in dark wood stretched down one side of the room, with most of the punters milling nearby. A few small round tables on tall legs were dotted down the left-hand wall. I clocked an empty table at the very back of the room and I headed for a space at the bar closest to it, passing Charlie greeting a couple of suits on my way. Once I had my pint, I took up a seat at the table and pulled out my phone, keeping my head down as I pretended to be immersed in it. No one seemed to even notice me as I sat in the shadows. Surreptitious glances clocked Charlie greeting several other men and women, his smile wide and gestures expansive. I counted three pints going into his mouth within half an hour. ‘Thirsty are we, Charlie boy?’ I muttered under my breath.
After about forty minutes, a woman came through the door and I watched as nearly every man, and most women in the room, looked her way. She could have stepped out of a fashion magazine. Long graceful legs, thick, shiny blonde hair, and a porcelain face with arched brows framing perfectly proportioned features. She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman in the room. And she walked straight up to Charlie and kissed him on the mouth. He put his arm around her proprietarily (as well you might, Charlie boy – every man in this room would have her if they could), and put his face close to hers as she spoke to him.
His girlfriend looked like she’d been made especially for Charlie – beautiful, well dressed and obviously not short of a bob or three, and I asked myself yet again why he was mucking around with Sam – in fact, why he would want to play away at all? It could only be for the thrill of getting away with it – Charlie must get off on the duplicity. I studied her some more for a bit. She looked elegant and self-contained standing with the rowdy suits, their body language cocksure, their feet planted wide apart, oozing confidence, and the most sickening thing to me was that even from across the room, I could see that she was a nice person, with a good heart. It was disgusting that Charlie was cheating on her, and how could Sam think this was OK?
I’d had enough of all this. I had to get out of there. I slid off my stool and took a couple of steps towards Charlie and the exit but then stopped in my tracks. There, coming through the door, was Rebecca. I quickly turned on my heel and headed into the Gents. Why, out of all the bars in London, did she have to choose this one to come to at this moment? I went into a cubicle and shut the door.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I lowered the seat lid, sat down on the toilet and tried to think of a plan. I twisted around and looked behind me – no window to climb out of. I ran my hands through my hair. I couldn’t just sit in the toilet all night waiting for her to leave. I would just have to get out there and ‘bump into her’ and act surprised. I took a deep breath and stood up, unlatched the door and then changed my mind, locking it again before undoing my fly. I’d relieve myself first, that’s what. As I peed, I wondered to myself what it was about Rebecca that made me unsettled. It wasn’t like she had anything over me.
Did she?
I shook my head; I couldn’t bear analysing her any more than necessary. All I wanted was to get the hell out of there.
I opened the bathroom door a crack and spotted her in the middle of a group next to the bar. So far, so good. I may yet slip past without her noticing. I took my phone out again and set off through the bar, studying it intently as I weaved my way through the crowd. I sensed the door getting closer and was almost going to breathe a sigh of relief when I heard my name being screeched above the bubbling, barking voices.
‘Ed!’
I turned – what else could I do? – and forced myself to look distractedly across the faces of the crowd before finding Rebecca.
‘Rebecca?’ I said, hoping I looked surprised.
Rebecca pushed past her friends and threw her arms around me when she reached me, her body pushed up against mine. I had to shift my body to accommodate her weight and, in doing so, put my arms around her waist to steady her. As she drew back, her tipsy state was confirmed by her eyes, which looked a little dislodged, as if they’d been shaken violently and hadn’t quite returned to their accustomed position.
‘Erm, hi, Rebecca, fancy bumping into you.’
‘I could say the same. What brings you to the City?’
‘I, um, I was meeting a friend, but they’ – I waved my phone pathetically at her – ‘can’t make it after all.’
‘They?’
‘Ah, no, I mean he.’
‘Aren’t you the mysterious one? Well, let me buy you a drink, we can’t have you on your own.’
‘No, really, I should get going . . .’
But it was no use – Rebecca dragged me into the thicket of City slickers at the bar and started introducing me to everyone, somehow producing a pint for me in record time.
I smiled and nodded and smiled some more and shook hands with half a dozen men as they grilled me about how I knew Rebecca, and she stood next to me, far closer than I was comfortable with, with her arm on mine. Then she shrieked again, ‘Charlie! Come and meet Ed,’ and waved furiously until he broke away from his leggy girlfriend and joined us.
This can’t be happening, I thought.
‘Charlie, this is Ed. Sam’s flatmate’s brother. Ed, this is Charlie.’
Charlie’s face lit up. ‘Ah, the photographer!’ he boomed. ‘Just returned from India, haven’t you?’
‘That’s me.’
I glanced at Rebecca, about to tell her off for gossiping about me, but she looked blank. She obviously hadn’t told Charlie about me. The only other person who knew Charlie was Sam. She’d been talking to Charlie about me! I grinned and felt filled with largesse about life. Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.
Another drink appeared and another and another, and I melted into an affable drunkenness. Like the party I’d been to the week before, I found that as I chatted to Rebecca’s friends, I started thinking they weren’t all that bad – in fact some were actually quite interesting. One of them even reminded me I’d met him before. And after a while I didn’t even mind Rebecca’s arm on my sleeve. She needed it more and more, as the night wore on.
But then I came to a point where I just wanted to be in bed. The spying and then several pints on an empty stomach were suddenly and deeply tiring. Rebecca came outside with me to say goodbye.
‘It was great to see you, Ed,’ she slurred.
‘I had an enjoyable evening.’ I reached out and held her up as she swayed. ‘Are you sure you’re OK to get home?’
‘Are you offering me a bed for the night?’
‘No, and I’m afraid I can’t even pay for a cab for you either. I’m fairly useless, really.’ I watched her closely for signs of disappointment, relieved to see there were none.
‘Oh don’t worry, they’ll get me home OK, they are all,’ she waved at the bar, ‘all perfect gentlemen,’ and she grinned, delighted at herself.
‘Well, I’ve got to go, thanks for the great night.’ I took a step away from her tentatively, testing her to see if she’d stay upright.
‘There is one thing before you go, Ed.’
‘Yes?’ I asked uneasily. I was really rather keen to get away now.
Chasing Charlie Page 17
