The Night That Changed Everything

by Laura Tait

  ‘Ben,’ she stops me, taking my hands in hers – something she would never have done when we were going out. ‘You don’t need to do this.’

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘I don’t want us to get back together either. I know we’re not right for each other. We used to be but . . .’

  ‘. . . we’re not now,’ I say, almost laughing with relief.

  ‘I know it’s only been four months or something, but so much has happened and so much has changed and . . . It feels like we’re different people, somehow.’

  ‘Totally.’

  ‘I still love your company,’ she says. ‘And whoever you eventually end up with will be the luckiest woman in the whole world . . .’

  The relief stuns me. It’s because I care for her so much, and I want her to be a part of my life, and I was worried all these words would make it impossible.

  ‘And you’re still the most beautiful girl I know,’ I say. ‘And you will always make me laugh.’

  The moment ends when Rebecca spots Frank watching us from the counter like we’re a soap opera. She drops my hands and picks up her fork.

  ‘I’ll transfer your deposit and half the cost of the furniture this week,’ she says, dipping her sausage into the middle of the fried egg. ‘Sorry it’s taken so long. It just felt a bit . . . final, you know?’

  ‘That would be great. Ta, Becs.’

  I take a slice of toast from the toast rack and begin to mop up the sauce from my beans.

  ‘All the things we said when you came round . . .’ she says, turning self-consciously as the cafe door opens, then returning her attention to me. ‘I know I wasn’t the easiest person to be with.’

  ‘It was one of the best times of my life, Becs. I don’t regret a single day we spent together.’

  ‘Me neither.’ She smiles as she lays her cutlery on her empty plate. ‘So what’s next for you?’

  I accept defeat against my own breakfast and shrug.

  ‘I’m sorry for all the times you had to listen to me moan about work,’ I say.

  ‘That’s OK,’ she says, twisting the salt cellar with her hand but still looking at me. ‘I don’t know, maybe you should go away somewhere for the day, out of London, wherever it may be, and you can’t come back until you’ve decided.’

  Frank must sense that we’re in the middle of something because he says nothing as he collects the plates, though he acknowledges my leftovers with a scowl.

  ‘Maybe,’ I tell her. ‘So you gonna buy somewhere, or get someone else in the flat, or . . . ?’

  ‘I’m not sure I could live with anyone else,’ she says. ‘I’ve realized I really like living alone. Though I hated it after you left.’

  ‘Really?’ I can’t hide my shock. ‘I always thought you took to single life like a duck to water?’

  ‘A duck to whisky, perhaps.’

  I chuckle, deciding against asking her to elaborate.

  Frank brings the bill and Rebecca and I both reach into the pockets of our coats on the backs of our chairs.

  ‘I’ll get this,’ she says. ‘Call it a thank-you for answering my distress call last night.’

  ‘No, no – let me,’ I insist, dropping some cash on to the saucer. ‘Think of it as a fiver for your thoughts.’

  Something flashes across her face.

  ‘What?’ I ask.

  She surveys the room. ‘Wasn’t it here that Jamie gave you the napkin?’

  ‘That table over there,’ I say, pointing.

  Rebecca’s eyes widen like she wants to know more. It would have been unimaginable for us to talk about any of this a few months ago, but now . . .

  ‘You should have heard him when he handed it over,’ I oblige. ‘He as good as threatened to break my legs if I hurt you.’

  Rebecca stares into her coffee cup after finishing it off.

  ‘Then I realized that was just Jamie – a loyal friend to the last.’

  She smiles gently. ‘Yep, the loyalist.’

  Rebecca looks lost in her own thoughts again, and I’m about to ask her what she’s thinking, press her to open up like I might have done if we were still going out, but it dawns on me that it’s not the kind of question I get to ask any more.

  Two Months Earlier

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  REBECCA

  New Year’s Eve

  Jamie is slicing an orange and chatting to a brunette in a white jumpsuit when I arrive at just gone midnight. He spots me as I approach the bar and waves, and when the girl turns to look I realize it’s Tidy Tania.

  ‘Hey, you,’ says Jamie, coming over.

  ‘Hey, yourself.’ I hop up on to the bar stool.

  ‘Second time today – it’s like you can’t stay away from me.’

  ‘Actually, it’s a different day. In fact, I haven’t seen you all year. Happy New Year!’

  ‘Back atcha!’ he says with a laugh, leaning across the bar to kiss me. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I’m only here for the whisky.’ The taxi ride sobered me up slightly – I don’t feel quite as pissed as I did when I left Sally. ‘Large, please.’ I look around the room again then ask: ‘Where’s Ben?’

  ‘You just missed him,’ Jamie tells me, his back to me as he pours my drink.

  Oh.

  Jamie gives me my glass and looks like he’s going to say something else, but a group of lads approach the bar.

  ‘Shut up, mate, you’re ’aving one,’ the first one says to one of his mates. Then he yells at Jamie: ‘Eight sambucas, please.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Jamie tells me, leaving to serve them.

  As soon as he’s done, two girls order six cocktails and by the time they’re carrying the drinks back to their friends, the boys are ready for another round of sambucas.

  I can’t believe I just missed Ben. And not just because I wouldn’t be sat here by myself for twenty minutes while Jamie serves, but because the whole way here I’ve been working myself up to talking to him, to seeing if there is anything salvageable between us.

  ‘Fancy a dance?’ Jamie asks when the rush dies down.

  ‘Nah, not in the mood.’

  He’s just poured us both a drink when the band announce there’s one song left, then break into ‘Dancing in the Street’ and everybody who isn’t already dancing jumps up.

  ‘C’mon, Jamie,’ yells Tidy Tania. ‘Dance with me.’

  How forward can you get? I turn away, embarrassed for her, until I realize Jamie has gone, and a few seconds later he’s bouncing up and down in the crowd.

  I think again about the things Sally and Tommy said earlier, about me being afraid to let people in. Tania doesn’t let the fear of rejection or the threat of getting hurt stop her doing what she wants. Neither does Danielle, or Jemma. Why do I care so much?

  Maybe I should work on that.

  I mean, I haven’t had sex since Ben and I split up. I’m single now – maybe I should be playing the field. Meet people like Jamie, flirt with them and get laid.

  Not actually with Jamie, obviously.

  Could I?

  No, of course not.

  Or could I?

  No.

  Or . . . ?

  I look around at my options. I could do worse. Like the guy who was made to drink sambuca against his will, who’s now dancing on a table with his shirt undone. But can two friends have meaningless sex and still be friends after?

  Ben and Danielle managed it, I remind myself bitterly.

  Still, it’s a ridiculous thought. He’d never do that to Ben.

  ‘Same again?’ asks Jamie as he takes his place back behind the bar. As soon as the clapping for the band dies out, Chas ’n’ Dave blare from the speakers.

  ‘No, make me a cocktail,’ I tell him, lowering my chin and peering at him through my lashes the way Tidy Tania was doing when I came in. ‘Surprise me.’

  No harm in practising on him.

  He looks confused, but pulls the whisky down and grabs a lemon from the bowl. A few minut
es later he hands me a pale orange drink garnished with a cherry.

  ‘Whisky Sour for the lady.’

  ‘I love it,’ I gush, as I sip the tangy liquid. He knows me so well.

  At one a.m., Jamie calls last orders and I know, even before it comes on, that the next song will be a slowy. Sure enough it’s ‘Stand By Me’, and Jamie sings along as he starts to clear up.

  ‘I know your game,’ I tell Jamie, getting up to help him collect glasses as the crowds start to disperse, still singing along.

  ‘What game’s that?’

  ‘The music. I’ve worked it out. It goes all slow and romantic after last orders. That’s when you seduce whatever girl you’ve lined up for after-hours fun.’

  Jamie laughs, then stops abruptly.

  ‘Rebecca, careful – you can’t . . .’ I drop the glasses on the floor with a terrific smash. ‘. . . stack a hurricane glass in a Martini glass.’

  ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry.’ I bend down and start to pick up chunks of glass. ‘Ouch.’

  ‘Are you OK?’ He rushes over and takes my hand.

  ‘It’s a tiny cut,’ I reassure him, sucking my bleeding finger.

  ‘Sit down – I’ll get you a plaster.’

  Just then, Tania approaches, smiling at Jamie.

  ‘So, my friends want to grab a taxi now,’ she says. ‘I guess I’ll see you soon?’ She doesn’t look like she wants to go anywhere. I feel bad. Does Jamie still like Tania? Maybe I should leave them to it.

  ‘Yep, see you soon, Tania.’

  Maybe he’s over her – he just gives her a quick peck on the cheek then disappears out back, missing the devastated look on her face. Tania and her friends are the last people to leave so when Jamie returns with a plaster and a glass of water, it’s just the two of us.

  ‘The reason I always do that with the music,’ he explains, as he gently wraps the plaster around my finger, ‘is to chill out the remaining customers so they feel like going home. Less chance of stragglers angling for a lock-in.’

  ‘Is that a hint for me to do one?’ I enquire.

  ‘Not at all. Like I’d ever want rid of you.’ He squeezes my hand before he drops it.

  I sip my cocktail to hide my smile, but somehow manage to spill half of it down my chin. Luckily Jamie misses it, already crouching to sweep up the glass.

  Once the bar is cleared Jamie calls a taxi, and I rest my head in the crook of my elbow on the bar. I must doze off because suddenly there’s a beep outside.

  I’m not sure how I end up snuggled into his chest with his arm around me, but my heart starts beating faster when I become aware of how we’re sitting in the back seat.

  I’m wondering whether to invite him in for a drink as we pull up at mine but Jamie saves me the bother. He simply gets out, pays the driver, then holds out his hand for me.

  Oh my God. He realized I was flirting and thought this is what I wanted.

  Maybe it is what I want.

  His arm stays round me as we walk up the stairs. He waits for me to unlock the door at the top, then leads me straight into the bedroom. This boy does not mess about.

  We pause by the bed and I look up into his face, trying not to feel shy. Our eyes lock and I need to go for it before the moment is gone . . .

  When my lips touch his, his face freezes.

  ‘Rebecca,’ he whispers, lifting his head back slightly to break contact, ‘what are you doing?’

  ‘I thought . . .’ Oh God. GOD. My hands fly to my cheeks as mortification seeps in.

  ‘You thought what?’

  ‘I thought that . . . why are you here?’ I say. ‘Why didn’t you stay in the taxi and go home? Why did you practically carry me upstairs?’

  ‘Because,’ Jamie says evenly, gripping my arms and peering at my face, ‘for want of a better phrase, you’re shitfaced.’

  ‘I’m not!’

  ‘You are.’

  ‘I am not.’

  ‘OK,’ he says, nodding and dropping his hands. ‘You are, though. Now get into bed, and I’ll get you some water.’

  ‘God, Jamie, I’m so embarrassed.’ I flop face first on to my bed and bury my face in the pillow.

  ‘Don’t be. You’ll have forgotten all about this by morning,’ he says, and I gather from the way the mattress sinks that he’s sitting down next to me.

  ‘You’re right, I must be drunk, or I’d never have thought you would go for me.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘You could have had any girl in there tonight. Tidy Tania was definitely hanging back for you. If you wanted to go home with someone, as if it would have been me.’

  ‘It’s not that at all. Look, let’s not have this conversation, eh?’

  ‘It’s OK, I’m not blaming you. I’m not your type – I know that. We’re friends. Let’s just forget this ever happened.’

  ‘Rebecca.’ He lays a hand on my back, then seems to think better of it because it’s gone again. ‘The way you’ve been acting tonight? It isn’t you.’

  ‘Well, look where being me has got me.’ My words are muffled by the pillow and I don’t know if he hears.

  ‘To say I’d never go for a girl like you is bullshit. If you want the truth, I used to think I might end up with a girl like you. Well, with you, actually.’

  What? I turn my head slightly to peer at him. He’s staring up at the ceiling.

  ‘If you must know, I had feelings for you pretty much from the day I met you. I wasn’t ready for a relationship, though.’ He lowers his head and looks at his hands. ‘I loved being single and away from home – I’d have been a shit boyfriend. But for a while, I kind of thought that one day, after I’d had my fun, we might, well, you know . . .’

  No, Jamie, I don’t know. I feel my heart thumping in my chest. This isn’t making sense. Me and him? I’m glad he can’t see my face, because I don’t know how I’m supposed to be reacting to this.

  ‘You’re the only girl I could ever see myself ending up with. I never get bored of you, the way I do other girls. I love your company. I value your opinion. And obviously, you’re beautiful.’

  The mattress shifts as he stands up, and I feel like I should be saying something but still I can’t think straight, and he continues: ‘But how I felt changed when you got with Ben. You guys were great together, and made each other so happy. So I was happy for you both. You deserved each other. And I knew that we would only ever be friends from then on. And that will never change now.’

  He stops. ‘Are you still awake?’ he whispers.

  I don’t answer. I don’t know what to say. His words are lovely, and they’re melting my heart, but they’re also scaring the shit out of me.

  ‘Be yourself, Rebecca,’ he mutters, as he pulls my duvet over me. ‘When you’re yourself, you’re the best girl I know.’

  He turns out my light and a few moments later I hear the front door click.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  BEN

  Thursday, 12 March

  I didn’t have to think long about where to come.

  When Rebecca suggested I go somewhere for the day and not come back until I’d decided what to do with my life, it was the first place that came into my head.

  It was only three or four months ago that I was here last, approaching the edge of the cliffs, but it seems so much longer. Remembering it now, it’s almost as though I’m looking back on another life, a different person.

  Jamie dying has made life seem both far more valuable and far less important all at once, if that’s possible. All that stuff that happened with Rebecca, it seems trivial now.

  I step closer to the edge, the lines of a map made real. Maybe it’s that the air is still, and I’m more in control, but I no longer feel scared.

  I walk along the cliff, and because it’s a weekday I am alone with my thoughts. There is barely a cloud in the sky and the sunlight sparkles against the sea like a million camera flashes.

  I feel nervous approaching the hut. There must be a
whole team of people who do his job, I realize now, so the chances are he won’t be on duty today. And even if he is, he must talk to dozens of people every day; he’s probably not even going to remember me. But when I knock on the door it is Brian who opens it, and he holds his arms wide in surprise before stretching one of them for me to shake.

  ‘Ben!’

  I take his hand, pleased and a little bit relieved, then give him the bottle of wine I bought to say thanks for last time. It’s only what they had on offer, because, well, I’m broke. Mum has even offered to give me some of her redundancy money, but I couldn’t do that. I’ve told her she should invest it.

  ‘What a lovely surprise,’ he says, moving aside to let me in.

  Only then do I see one of his colleagues is also here, though he’s in the process of putting on his luminous jacket. Brian introduces me like an old friend, and tells him how I came here before Christmas. He doesn’t explain why.

  ‘He’s a Mancunian,’ adds Brian. ‘But City, not United, so we won’t need to fumigate afterwards.’

  The man laughs before making his excuses, leaving Brian to usher me towards the Paisley chair. He draws two paper cups from a stack next to the kettle but waits for me to nod my assent before unscrewing the bottle.

  ‘So,’ he says, pouring the wine, ‘did things work out between you and . . . ?’

  ‘Rebecca. They didn’t. But it’s fine, you know?’

  He hands me a cup and eases himself on to the stool.

  ‘We’re friends now,’ I say.

  Brian nods happily. ‘So what brings you here?’

  I laugh, at the sheer scale of the question and possible answer, and then, encouraged by occasional nods and questions, I tell him what has been happening: how Jamie and I had been planning to open a business together, about seeing Rebecca with Michael, and the call from Danielle and everything that followed.

  When I’m done I almost feel out of breath.

  ‘Life is so fragile,’ says Brian. ‘I know that more than most, working here.’

  I look around the place, still recovering from telling my story, which is Jamie’s story, really. Everything is just as it was last time except for some kind of device on the table that looks like a cross between a camera and a large torch.