‘What’s wrong, Sarah?’ I asked.
‘Can’t you leave me alone?’
‘No, I can’t. We know about Jess, Sophie and me, but we’re worried about you.’
‘Right. Like you’re not all totally self-absorbed.’
‘God, is that what it’s about? I’m sorry, I know I can be selfish, but I hate to think I’m hurting you. I feel horrible, we really are worried.’
‘Sorry, no, it’s not that. There’s a new guy at work, Daniel. He’s such an arsehole, he’s making my life a misery. He tries to use the fact that I’m a woman to win over my male clients. You should hear his sexist jokes. I do all the sodding work and he walks in and gets the glory. It’s really bothering me but I don’t know what to do.’
‘You need to say something. I know I’m not an expert on office politics but I know you’re the best and if this Desperate Dan character is causing problems tell your manager. You have to.’
‘I know, but I’m scared.’
‘You’re what?’
‘Scared, Ru. I know it’s a surprise, but I’m scared that this guy is going to ruin all I’ve been working for.’
‘Christ, where’s the Sarah I know? You don’t give up without a fight, especially a fight you know you can win. Remember Annalise? You told me to stand up for myself, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, and you got sacked.’
‘Oh, yes. But that’s not the point. I was new, you’re not, you’ve earned respect, they know you’re good. I think you should either go to your boss or take Daniel to one side and threaten to cut his balls off.’
‘That sounds tempting.’ Sarah looked really sad. ‘Thanks for the advice, I guess I have to do something, it’s driving me mad.’
‘That’s the Sarah I know and love.’
‘This must be a first for you.’
‘What?’
‘Giving advice. You don’t get to do it often.’
‘Yeah, well, I think I’m quite good at it. I may just do it more often.’
Sarah hit me with her pillow and rewarded me with a rare smile. I hugged her. I hoped I was right because this was not a Sarah emotion: Sarah was never scared.
However, my instinct had been right. I felt better that for once I had been a friend to her.
So what was wrong with me? Oh, nothing new. I missed Ben, I hated working, I was seeing a guy who could win the Biggest Prat in the World competition, so everything, really. The problem was, now that I was surrounded by misery I felt like a fraud. I had no new problems so largely I kept quiet and tried to be the cheerful one. We weren’t a happy household. When Thomas came round, in his braver or hungrier moments, he said it was like being with four girls who had constant PMT.
***
Jess’s big day arrived and I was worried. Not just about the murder Jess would commit, but also about Julian. If he won whatever it was they were trying to win, I’d get the blame. If he didn’t, he’d be even more of a pain in the arse than usual. While Jess was still at work the day before the review, we discussed what we’d do if things didn’t work out for her. Sophie said thoughtfully that we’d take her out and listen to her, be sympathetic and loving, tell her that she was better than anyone else and her company didn’t deserve her. We’d build her ego and pander to her. That sounded awful. Sarah said we’d persuade her to get another job with another company because she was so good at what she did. Sophie was taking the motherly approach; Sarah was being practical. I said that I’d remove all the knives from the house, pack away all my breakables (Jess had none left) and dig a tunnel so I could make a fast escape. Sarah said that sometimes I could come across as a really rotten friend.
The evening after the review we were all at home, waiting for Jess. But Jess wasn’t there. She hadn’t called any of us during the day and we were worried. Sophie thought that we should maybe phone Julian, then the police. Sarah thought it must be bad news; if it was good, Jess would have let us know. I said I was going to start digging, my tunnel. At eight, Jess swept in with a bottle of champagne and a great big smug smirk. She announced that she had been given the highest accolade of her group, the one precious promotion. She was now above all her competition and she could look down on them. No more inviting them to dinner: she had a new circle of competition to court. It made me realise how evil she could be. Sarah demanded to know why she hadn’t called as we’d all been worried. Jess gave us a blank look and said, ‘I can’t think why you’d worry. It was a foregone conclusion. I knew all along I was going to win.’ There are times, and this was one, when I thought about killing Jess. She had put us through hell, had forgotten all about it and instead of apologising she gave us champagne and acted like the Queen of bloody Sheba.
One good thing that came out of her promotion, apart from the champagne, was a solution to the Julian problem. Although I feel embarrassed to admit it, I had slept with Julian on a number of occasions since Christmas. And it didn’t get any better. Something about his personality screamed, ‘I am a crap screw.’ I had waited before I slept with Julian, and if I’d known what he was like, I’d have waited a whole lot longer. Our rumblings were brief, foreplay rushed (on my side), lovemaking rushed (on Julian’s side), and no passion was ever aroused in me. My heart didn’t flutter, I didn’t turn to jelly, I just found the whole thing dull. For once I had stopped deluding myself and faced the truth. My plan of using Julian to get over Ben wasn’t working, and although I should always have known that, at least I knew now.
I didn’t like Julian. How could I? He bored me; he talked about himself, he loved himself. Once again, I had behaved like a complete moron. Jess set me free. When I had first started seeing Julian, she would wait for me to get back. She’d be sitting in the lounge, which had become the interrogation room, with a glass of wine and a cigarette, if it was the evening, or orange juice and croissants if it was the morning. She was always there. I’d sit down and then I’d have to answer endless questions about him. I tried not to, but Jess could wear anyone down. She’d have a great future with MI5.
I saw him on the Friday after Jess’s big win. And, of course, he spent the whole evening moaning about the injustice of it all and even suggested that Jess was sleeping with the boss, who was a woman. I got really angry with him. I refused to give him any sympathy but he was so depressed that he didn’t notice. He didn’t even want sex with me. That was the only good thing about the evening.
When I got home, Jess was in the kitchen.
‘Where’s my breakfast?’ I asked.
‘What?’ she said. The free croissants and orange juice were no more. Instead Jess told me she’d had a date last night with some guy from an advertising agency who had been determined to argue the merits of advertising over PR. ‘I think that’s the reason he asked me out, to convince me that advertising was great and PR was crap. Of course, I put him straight on a few things and by the time he went home he was seriously considering a career change.’ We giggled. ‘So, you were out with Julian last night?’
‘Yes.’ I took my interrogation position under the lamp.
‘Ru, when are you going to dump him?’
‘What?’ I hadn’t been expecting this.
‘Well, darling, you know, going out with him isn’t helping you. You’re so miserable, I can’t bear to see you like this.’
‘But, Jess, you wanted me to go out with him in the first place.’
‘But not if it made you unhappy. Dump him.’
‘No, I can’t.’
‘What do you mean you can’t?’
‘Well, he may not be great in bed and he’s got a small penis and he bores me, but at least I go out now.’
‘Ruth, I’ll take you out. There’s no point in you seeing Julian. How come you didn’t tell me before he had a small penis?’
‘Because it’s none of your business. I wish I hadn’t told you at all. Listen, Jess, what about helping your career?’
‘Well, I’ve been promoted, Julian isn’t important any more. Dump him, although I
would like to be there when you do.’ So Jess wanted me to dump Julian, not for my own good but because she didn’t need to destroy him anymore. Bless her.
‘Ruthie, you’re a wonderful friend, the best. Come on, I’ll buy you lunch.’
Jess was right. I couldn’t keep cheapening myself by sleeping with someone I disliked so much. And now that the free breakfasts were over, there was no point. Apart from my fear of my ailing social life. I decided to do as she said and get rid of him. But one thing I have had little experience of is dumping people. In fact, I’ve had no experience. I was a bit slow off the starting-blocks in seeing men. Before Ben, I had had a few boyfriends, but only the hand-holding, snogging kind. Yes, Ben was my first. And I hate the word dumping: it makes the whole process sound so inhumane. I wish there was a nice way of saying it, but I can’t think of one. Dumping will have to do.
I arranged to see Julian on Sunday evening. I had convinced myself I was letting him go, setting him free. But I didn’t know how to do it. I was really quite nervous. What could I say? I asked my friends.
‘Well, just make sure you let him down gently. He may not be the nicest guy in the world, but he still has feelings,’ Sophie said.
‘You got yourself into this mess, you’ll just have to accept the consequences. I did warn you,’ Sarah said.
‘He’ll probably be glad to see the back of you, ha, ha. No, seriously, tell him early so you don’t ruin his whole evening.’ Thomas laughed.
‘Start by picking holes in the things he says, then tell him he looks really rough, criticise what he’s wearing, tell him he has a small penis, pull apart his sexual performance – oh, and make sure he’s crying before you leave,’ Jess said. Not very helpful.
I decided to deal with this the way I deal with most things. I got slightly drunk before I left to meet him.
In the cab I thought about what I was going to say and I felt quite nervous. I could tell him I was moving to Australia (that drew on the only real experience I had had at being dumped), or that I had a rare contagious disease, or that I used to be a man. I told myself to be more realistic. No, I would tell him that my book was putting too much pressure on me, that he was distracting me too much, that I really liked him and liked being with him, but at this time in my life I had to prioritise my writing. Not bad, Ruth Butler, not bad at all. And, of course, I would say that I hoped we could remain friends.
We met in a pub near his flat (my one concession). Julian ordered the drinks. He was still moaning about Jess’s promotion and the unfairness of it all.
‘Are you sure she’s not sleeping with Camilla?’
God, the guy had a serious ego problem. Once again he was boring me to death.
More drinks followed and I was well on my way. It was time.
‘I don’t think we should see each other anymore.’ Hooray, good start.
‘Don’t be absurd, of course we should.’ Wrong answer.
‘Julian, I mean it. I like you a lot but I need time to myself, for my novel.’
‘Darling, I know the problem. You’re falling in love with me and you’re scared I don’t feel the same. Feelings can be scary. But although I don’t love you at the moment I may grow to. Don’t worry so much.’
Where had that come from? All my good intentions flew out of the window and my old friend Drink took over. I was mad. ‘How dare you, you arrogant, conceited self-centred wanker? I am not in love with you, I don’t even like you very much. You look rough, you bore me, you’ve got no dress sense and you behave like a woman. The only reason I went out with you was because you look like my ex-boyfriend. He was more of a man than you’ll ever be. You’re crap in bed and you’ve got a really small penis.’ For the first time, Julian was speechless. I grabbed my coat and ran out of the bar.
I would have liked to blame Jess, but I couldn’t. I would have liked to blame the drink, but I couldn’t. I felt so bad: no one deserved the dressing-down I’d given him. I decided I wouldn’t tell anyone what I’d done.
***
For a few days I tortured myself about Julian. I hated myself for what I’d said. If only he’d accepted it was over, if only he hadn’t said I was in love with him. No, on second thoughts, he probably deserved everything. I felt as if a great weight had lifted. Dumping Julian had been therapeutic. I was a bit more cheerful, Jess was happy again and so was Sarah, who had taken my advice. No, she hadn’t cut his balls off, she had discussed the situation with her boss. Danny-boy was given a huge ticking off and he knew now not to mess with our Sarah.
That left Sophie. The Porsche had been getting worse lately, if that was possible. Sophie was destroyed: her self-confidence was at its lowest possible, she said she was ugly, fat, boring, stupid, all the things he made her feel. I really hated him. Sophie, the most beautiful, wonderful girl in the world, was being stamped into the ground by a complete bastard.
I got home from work a few days after letting Julian go, and Sophie was lying on the sofa in tears. Floods and floods of tears.
‘Oh, my God, what’s he done now?’ I looked at her puffy face. It reminded me of something.
‘He’s finished it, it’s over, he doesn’t want me anymore.’ Sophie ran to me and grabbed me.
‘Oh.’
‘He said he was falling in love with me and he didn’t want to.’
‘Oh.’
‘He said we had to stop seeing each other before we did any more damage.’
‘Oh.’
‘What am I going to do? I loved him so much, and I know he felt the same, he told me, why did it end?’
‘Oh, come here.’ I hugged her again. ‘What a bastard.’
‘No, he’s not.’
‘I don’t understand. Why did he end it?’
‘Because he loved me and he was too scared to love me – well, that’s what he said. He couldn’t cope with not being able to control his emotions and now he’s gone forever.’
Sophie was crying really hard, she had mascara running down her face and she didn’t look good. I knew just how she felt. ‘Well, perhaps that’s just it. He’s the sort of person who needs to be in control of his emotions.’ Constructive, perhaps?
‘I don’t care. I just want him back. Ruth, tell me how to get him back.’ She looked at me pleadingly.
My heart broke. The worst thing was that I knew I could do nothing. My best friend was distraught, her confidence had left her, her life was over. I did the only thing I could in the circumstances: I called Sarah and Jess’s mobiles and summoned them home. When they arrived, things looked bad. Sophie was sobbing, two loo rolls had been used, I looked close to a nervous breakdown. I had already done the comforting thing, then I started crying because I’m an emotional wreck and, well, I was responsible for half a loo roll. I wasn’t helping matters.
Sarah took charge. She hugged Sophie, ordered me out to get wine and chocolate, tidied up the loo roll and got Sophie in a semi-calm state. ‘Tell me what happened,’ she commanded.
‘He ended our relationship. He said he couldn’t cope with his feelings for me, he was falling in love and he didn’t want to.’ She stopped crying.
‘Oh, baby, I know you feel shit now, I know how much you loved him, but we’re here for you, we’ll get you through this, I promise.’
Sophie nodded. Wine and chocolate followed. Sophie, although still in pieces, had not started crying again. This was a good sign. I hadn’t stopped crying for five days, not even for chocolate.
‘Soph, you need to get away. Why don’t you visit your parents this weekend?’ Jess suggested.
Sophie nodded, again.
‘Good idea,’ Sarah agreed. ‘Just to get you away for a bit. You may be able to think more clearly.’
I’d known they’d sort it out, at least the immediate situation. Get us over the crisis, keep Sophie going until she could start to get herself together. Jess and Sarah were good at that. I was useless. Sophie went to bed with some of Jess’s sleeping pills and we finished the wine.
‘It’
s so tragic,’ I said.
‘What?’ Jess asked.
‘Sophie and the Porsche. It’s awful she had to get so hurt.’
‘Yes, I hate him for hurting her, but I’m glad it’s over. He made her so unhappy. She’ll get over him,’ Sarah said.
‘I know he was awful, I hated him too but, well, I hate seeing Sophie like that.’ I was cross and I was nearly in tears.
‘Babe, I promise you that one day Sophie will learn to hate the Porsche. She’ll see him for what he really is. And one day you’ll probably be able to do the same with Ben.’ Jess hugged me, and I was sobbing. I felt so selfish, here was one of my best friends with a broken heart, and all I could do was remember mine. I vowed to stop being such a terrible person.
***
The thing you have to remember about a broken heart is that it loses all rationality. It takes over the strongest of us, and turns us to jelly. It can’t just be glued back together. It can take days, months or a year to heal, or sometimes it never does, not properly anyway. People so afflicted should be treated kindly and not told to pull themselves together. For non-sufferers it is easy to underestimate the seriousness of such an illness; sufferers find it difficult to imagine anything worse.
Sophie came back from her parents’ house rather more cheerful. Within the next week she had started calling him ‘bastard’ and ‘dick-head’. She swore. Once she even kicked something. She was well on the way to recovery – she even talked about taking acting classes. She still cried for him and she still hurt, but she wasn’t a victim.
We went for a drink, just the two of us. I decided to try to be a proper friend.
‘The thing is, I miss him, and I know that’s not going to pass for a while. We hadn’t been together that long but I really fell for him, you know.’
Rubber Gloves or Jimmy Choos? Page 16
