by Bloom, Anna
“Cutting? I call it realism, babes. Come on, Ronnie. No one else ever got close to him. I mean he was the best-looking guy on the whole campus, but he was never once tempted by anyone no matter how much they begged.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well you know. He never even looked at anyone, did he? You could say anything to him, and he’d just be oblivious. Like he just wasn’t interested in anything with a pulse and a warm place to park his—”
“Angela!” I put my glass down on the table. The wine had been to celebrate the closure of the Carling Supersaver project. Secretly, I’d been hoping it would stop my heart from pulsing with the erratic beat it had maintained all day, but it didn’t seem to be fulfilling its purpose. “What do you mean? I don’t remember any girls even approaching him. I mentioned it to him. He was always—”
“With you.” She rolled her eyes and made gagging noises into her glass.
My memory sparked with images of dark corners. His breath on my throat as we whispered conversations. A kaleidoscope of lights flashing around us, but his skin lit with rainbow colours, the only thing I could see.
“He wasn’t always with me.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She rolled her hand. “And even when he wasn’t all he would talk about was you, over and over and over. It was never-ending. Ronnie this. Ronnie that. Do you think she likes me? I can’t tell what she thinks.”
I stared at her, but Ange seemed far away, in the past. She was stuck in conversations I had never been a party to.
“You never told me that.”
“Because it was soooo boring, Ronnie. Do you know what it was like being stuck between two people who didn’t stop talking about one another?”
“But why wouldn’t you tell me? You knew how I felt.”
“I mean, you could climb on the guy’s lap and he wouldn’t even notice. You could beg and he’d just be oblivious.”
“Angela, what are you talking about?”
“Matthew and his saintly ways. Ridiculous really.”
“Ange, did you try it on with Matthew?”
I pushed back, trying to get some space between us so I could think.
She snorted and waved her hand at me and I glanced at the bottle again, this time turning it around so I could see through the green glass and not read the label. Nearly empty.
“Which time are you talking about? I didn’t get a chance at the reunion because he left not long after you bolted.”
“What? You gave me the impression that he’d, what was it you said? ‘Enjoyed himself thoroughly’.”
“No! I was talking about Scott. That man is not happily married. I tell you, Ronnie, he went at it for hours.”
“Angela! I can’t make sense of anything you are saying. Can we focus here for a moment? Who went at it for hours?”
“Scott.” She blinked slowly, like a schoolchild in trouble with the teacher.
“At what?”
“Sex. What else?”
Oh God.
“And Matthew?”
“I didn’t care. Stupid man. God, it wasn’t like he was even yours. I wasn’t breaking any rules, you guys were just friends.”
“Yes, but you are my friend too. Why would you even do that?”
She groaned and rolled her eyes. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter now. At the end of the day you and I are still best friends. Always have been.”
“Of course, we are. But that’s a big secret to keep. I can’t believe you had secret conversations with him and never told me. They could have changed everything.”
“He’s a guy, Ronnie. They just let us down eventually. Look at Paul dying. I mean that was mighty inconvenient of him, and here I sat, helping you, being here for you, and all you could do was still talk about Matthew. I mean, still! It’s good this is over. It’s been unhealthy all these years.”
She dragged the conversation on, but I kept rolling her words around. “When did you try it on with him? In the first year before we were all friends?”
“Ugh. Every year. He would just never give in. Hasn’t changed much since he got divorced either. Really, Ronnie. The man is an imbecile.” She was definitely drunk. Her words ran together as quick as sand in the sea. “We need to find you a nice man like Paul again. One who doesn’t need all your time. What about the man with glasses at your office? He seems nice.”
“Stewart? Have you tried it on with him too? Made sure he isn’t interested in you too?”
I reached for my glass but then changed my mind. I needed a clear head. I needed to see through the fog, push for clarity, find that spark of who I was and cling onto it like it was a life raft.
“Ugh no.”
“And Paul? Did you find out if he liked you too before he settled for me? Angela, you seem to forget you are the one who’s moved away. I’m still here. I’ve never changed no matter who else has been in my life. Do you hate me spending time with Hannah too? Are you jealous of her as well?”
“Don’t be stupid, Ronnie, and anyway, she knows I’m much cooler than you.”
“Cooler or not, I’m still her mother; she’s still mine.”
The doorbell rang but I didn’t move. I stared at Angela with my mother’s eyes.
“Mum, it’s for you,” Hannah yelled, and I snapped my glance away from Ange.
“We can talk more in a minute, but, Ange, I need you to sober up. Where is all this stuff coming from?” I paused where she sat and leant down. “Ange, we’ve been best friends for a lifetime.”
Her skin paled, her hands trembling as they clutched her glass.
In the hallway I winced at the cold air rushing in through the open door. Hannah sat back in the kitchen staring at her books, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth.
“Oh.” My greeting exhaled as I stared up into heaven and slate.
Matthew’s cheeks stained with pink, his lips parted.
“I thought you were in Scotland?” My words came out as little puffs of air, tiny wishes that floated into the sky.
My heart thudded at the sight of him. Again. Always and always. Again and again. Him.
“Ronnie…” There was a movement behind him, and Ma bustled down the pathway towards the house.
“Ma? Where have you been?” I dragged my gaze from Matthew to my mother who looked more done up than ever.
“I’ve been flat hunting.”
“What?” I gasped.
“Flat hunting, darling. I don’t need this big house anymore. I’ve seen some lovely retirement places today.”
“What? But what about Hannah and me? This is our home.”
She brushed past me with her mean old lady elbows. “Don’t worry. Don’t worry. We will get it all sorted. Oooh, Ronnie, you should see the bathroom in one of the places. It’s a wet room. An actual wet room that’s supposed to be wet. I’d never have to worry about wet shower curtains again.”
“Uh.” What was going on here?
Ma walked in the house calling Hannah, not realising she was sat right at the table.
I lifted my gaze to Matthew. His sapphire blues read every inch of me. “This seems like a bad time.”
“I don’t know what’s happening here. Everything is going bonkers in there.” I cringed at the thought of Ange and what she’d just told me. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.” I tried to smile at him. Tried to ignore the memories of just two days ago. But I couldn’t. They ran through my head in technicolour glory; gasps and moans, an intensity of feeling I didn’t know could exist within one single moment.
I took a breath. His eyes met mine. “Let’s make this into something else. You were right. I never said it the way I should have done. I wasn’t brave enough, too scared to show you in case I didn’t measure up. I’ll regret that for the rest of my life, but I’m telling you right now.” His gaze held all the stars of heaven in its depths. “I want you and me to make something…” His words trailed off. What adjective could he use for everything that we could be? There wasn’t one big enough, bright enough, clever eno
ugh.
My fingers gripped the door.
It’s the words.
Not the same words.
These were the right ones.
He watched me. Waiting.
And I watched him and waited.
My mouth fell open.
My mother was inside planning to leave her family home.
His children were in Scotland missing their dad—again.
My daughter was just beginning to talk to me like I wasn’t from a different planet.
A million reasons why not.
It was Matthew.
Asking me again.
Photographs
“I want…” My breath caught. Just like before hesitation ran itself into fine knots around me.
This was a million snatched moments of neither of us being brave enough, but it would end with me.
I said nothing.
Not a word.
On the doorstep I stood with one foot in front of the other, as if I was just walking out, the door in my hand; it was a pose I knew all too well.
“You aren’t going to say anything are you? Ronnie, this is the time to speak. Anything. Say anything.”
I stared at him. I had all the words in my head but couldn’t get a single syllable to form on my tongue.
“I see.” His shoulders fell and he breathed out deep, resignation rolling off him in tangible waves. “I love you, Ronnie. Loved you. I hope you know that.” He coughed and cleared his throat, then his face smoothed out, the bitter emotion replaced with a calm mask. “Thank you for the rebrand, Ronnie. I think you got it just right.”
I nodded. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t the right conversation. I love you, too. Even though I’m stupid and well, so fucking stupid. “I hope you save the business, Matthew.”
Stop it, Ronnie.
“I handed it over to the administrators this afternoon.”
“The paperwork?”
“No, all of it.”
“But…”
“I gambled my happiness on that business. The things I did were wrong, very wrong, but I did it because I couldn’t see any other way. You were right. I was scared. I should have spoken to you, should have told you exactly who I was and what I was dealing with.” He paused and stared at the floor before lifting his gaze back to mine. “But I loved the way you looked at me, that you believed I could be anybody. Now I see I could have told you and you might have had the vision to save me.”
“But your family business?” There were so many other things I wanted to focus on, but my tongue was doing its own thing again; saying the inconsequential thoughts, not the important ones.
“We negotiated for the original shop. Dad’s. It’s going to be Carling’s Green Savers. I’ve heard that Edinburgh is lacking in organic shops.”
I gave a small smile. Of course he’d heard, it was in my document.
He waited again. Giving me the chance to say yes.
The moment passed and he turned his lips into the saddest of smiles. “Here, this is for you. Hopefully it will answer one of your questions.” He handed me a small envelope. “I think this is probably goodbye for us, finally.” Another pause. “Goodnight, Ronnie.”
“Night, Matthew.” I clutched at the square, pushing it into my chest. I was letting him go all over again. What the fuck was wrong with me?
I got myself back inside the house and shut the door. My legs shook so hard I slumped against the wall. The moment had blasted me again.
Ronnie. This is it. This is actually it.
“Oh, Mum,” Hannah called me from the kitchen, and I forced a smile onto my face.
“Yeah, Han?” I hoped it wasn’t a maths question. I hated maths. So did she judging by the inky black marks in her workbook.
“Nonna was being weird.” She chewed her bottom lip.
“Yeah, I think I’ve annoyed her. I’ll sort it, okay?”
“She says she’s getting a place with a wet room?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know, Hannah. I really don’t know.” I waited for her to ask what she wanted to ask. I watched it skit across her face. “Everything okay?”
“You and Aunty Ange are rowing?”
“We aren’t rowing, Hannah. She’s had a bit too much wine, which I don’t advocate.” I flashed her a smile. “We are friends. All friends get cross occasionally.”
She nodded.
“You and Annabelle have fights, don’t you?”
“Yes, but I’d like to think she was my friend above everything else.”
“That’s good. That’s the best way to be.” I turned for the door. How far away would Matthew be? I could still catch him if he was on foot.
“Mum?”
“Yes?”
“That guy at the door, the one you picked me up with from the party?”
“Matthew Carling?”
“Yeah. I remember where I knew him from.”
“Sweetheart, you haven’t met him before. I hadn’t seen him for fifteen years.” Or ever would do again, because I was a moron.
“He came here after Dad died. He was looking for you.” Her face coloured.
“What do you mean?” A loud clanging bashed at the forefront of my head.
“I know I shouldn’t listen to grown up conversations. But you were in bed. Ma and Ange were rowing in the kitchen. Ma was telling Ange it was all her fault.”
“Ange doesn’t create snow.” I pointed it out for the record.
“Anyway, the doorbell rang, and it was that man. He said he’d heard the news and he wanted to check if you were okay. Ange laughed at him and told him you were busy mourning the love of your life.”
I gasped like I’d been sucker-punched. “Wh-what h-happened th-hen?”
“The man said for Ange to tell you he was sorry, for everything, that he missed you still. Then she said you didn’t need his apology because he’d never been anything to you.”
I didn’t pause to say anything to Hannah. There weren’t words that would be suitable. I barged into the front room. Ange still clutched her glass, staring morosely into the past.
“Angela. Did Matthew come here after Paul died?”
She blew out a gustful of air. “I was doing you a favour. He would only make things worse for you.”
“Or would he stop me needing you, Ange?”
“It was ridiculous. He asked for a divorce as soon as he heard you were widowed. He needed to be told that he couldn’t just come back and everything would be as it was. We’d all moved on.”
“Angela!” I fell at her knees, banging my kneecaps on the carpet. “I hadn’t moved on. For God’s sake, couldn’t you see that? I’ve never moved on; I’ve always been in love with him.”
“Ronnie, you haven’t. You never even told him. If you really loved him, you would have told him.”
She had me there.
I’d just let him walk away again. Who was the chicken shit now?
Oh, holy crap.
He’d asked for a divorce once he knew Paul had died? He’d always planned to get in contact as soon as he could and now I’d let him stand on my doorstep and give me a final goodbye.
I closed my eyes as the last piece locked into place. It hadn’t been a coincidence that Carling Supersavers had chosen the Childs Agency for the rebrand. He’d been guiding it from the start. They asked us to pitch. That was him. He could have chosen a company in Scotland, but instead he rented an apartment along the road from mine for two weeks as soon as his divorce came through.
He’d always known where I was and what I was doing. Even from finding me during my first date with Paul, to knowing that my husband had died.
He’d never not been with me.
“Fuck, shit.” I clutched her hand. “I’m so fucking cross with you right now. Honestly, Ange, I feel like I don’t even know you.”
The Ange who had always been in control, with her bright-red lipstick and devil-may-care attitude shuddered like a child. “I just didn’t want to be alone. It’s hard now, Ronnie. So
hard.”
“You stupid cow. You are always my friend. Matthew and I were never meant to be friends. It’s been the stupidest mistake of both of our lives.” I paused and watched her carefully, the lines I always thought she’d been blessed not to own weaved a pattern under her foundation. Her eyes were shadowed with dark. “Ange. Life is hard. You should have told me if you were unhappy.”
“And be a puke fest like you?”
Her words punched like a ten-tonne weight.
I clambered up from my knees.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to go and tell him.”
She sunk down onto the floor, almost lying on Ma’s carpet and I shook my head. “We are going to sort this, Ange. But right now, I have to go.” I ran for the hallway, leaving her muttering behind me.
I grabbed at my coat hanging on the banister and flung it on, shoving my phone and the small envelope I still clutched into my pocket, then I yanked open the front door.
Bugger. I didn’t know where he could be. I didn’t see a car but then I hadn’t been looking for one. I’d been too busy staring at his face.
Okay. He could be packing up his rental now he didn’t need it anymore. I ran out the cul-de-sac and hooked a left and then a right. It was only a couple of streets away; bloody blindingly obvious why he’d rented it now.
Oh my god, I was so stupid.
I gasped for air as I ran up past the railings and banged on the door. There weren’t any lights on and once I’d almost broken the door down with my bare hands, I knew I had to give up.
Shit.
“What do you want?” A woman leant out of her window above.
“I’m looking for the guy who lived here for a few days? Moody, tall, Scottish.”
She gave a smile—not a smile I relished. Eight-five percent perverted. “Yes, I know. What’s he to you?”
“He’s my friend. I need to find him.”
“He left with a suitcase earlier. Ages ago now. I’ll miss watching his fine piece of arse leave for work in the mornings as I drink my coffee.”
“Err. Okay. Thanks.”
“His rental car company came and collected the car too. Such a shame.”
This was useful information. He wasn’t in a car.
The train.
