Rubber Gloves or Jimmy Choos?

by Faith Bleasdale

  ‘I called at half past four on Saturday morning. Can you imagine? No concept of time. He answered the phone. He sounded sleepy but just as he always had, and when I said it was me, well, he just said, ‘I feel so much just hearing your voice’ and I felt the same. We spoke for hours just hearing each other’s voices. Then he asked if he could come over and I said that it was too soon so he should phone me tomorrow. I was rushing. It was so powerful. I couldn’t think or see straight and again I just wanted to be alone with my feelings. Then I cried again but I wasn’t sure what the tears were for. I think they were happy because I was happy.’

  ‘So the next day?’

  ‘Yes, he called me and I just had to see him. I felt that if I didn’t, I’d find out he wasn’t real, and I really wanted him to be real. I opened the door to him and I burst into tears. Floods of them. Matty stood there and he cried too. We both stood on the doorstep looking like babbling idiots and I knew.’ This was so weird.

  ‘Knew what?’

  ‘That he was back for real.’ Katie’s story wasn’t unfamiliar: it was just like the love story I had built in my head over the past year. The look, the tears, the love: it was the story I knew back to front. My fantasy love story.

  ‘He apologised for leaving me. He said he had been young and selfish and searching for a dream. He said he had spent the years chasing stars, when the one thing he wanted was here all the time – me. It was weird, I was angry and ecstatic at the same time. I was angry with him for going away but so glad to have him back. He gave up the band, it wasn’t working and he had stopped enjoying it. He came back a year ago and went to teaching college. I nearly fell over. He was becoming respectable. We kept a distance at first but, well, that didn’t last – it couldn’t. He’s grown up, Ru, and so have I.’

  ‘Sounds like it.’ I was unsure of what to say. I should have recognised her look when I first saw her. The look Jess had had when she told us about Jerry, the look Sarah had had when we found out about Johnny, the look Katie had had when I answered the door.

  ‘I still love him.’

  ‘I can see that.’

  ‘We’re going to give it a go, properly.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I’m moving in with him.’

  ‘Of course you are.’ For some reason I was full of tears.

  ‘Please say something.’

  ‘Katie, you’re still in love with him and he loves you. What can I say? What should I say? I don’t fucking know. I mean, it’s the middle of the night and I just heard the best love story since Romeo and fucking Juliet and I just don’t know what to say?’

  ‘I know. Ruth, you’re my best friend, my only friend, and it’s only because of you that I can do this. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I started to trust again, then Matty came back. It’s because of you.’ I obviously hadn’t ever done anything this good in my entire life. And it made me feel, well, I’m not sure how it made me feel.

  ‘Are you sure?’ I hated myself for asking, but I did.

  ‘Yes.’ She sounded so certain.

  ‘Then I’m happy for you.’ I hugged her.

  ‘Me too. I’m so fucking happy! Christ, I’m happy and I never thought I could be.’ Katie shrieked with laughter. ‘Are you OK?’ she asked me.

  I thought about it and I decided that I was. ‘A bit cold. Come on. I’ll make you some hot chocolate.’

  ‘With marshmallows?’

  ‘If we’ve got some.’ We linked arms and walked home. I was cold, but Katie didn’t seem cold. I glanced at her and decided that I would remember her looking like this for always: she was beautiful. I made hot chocolate but there were no marshmallows – chocolate cookies substituted. Not the same, but good enough.

  ‘I can’t believe he still looks the same.’

  “Well, I guess you always expect people to have changed and they don’t necessarily.’’

  ‘You don’t mind?’

  ‘Why would I?’

  ‘Travelling …’

  ‘I won’t go, it’s not the end of the world.’ I was trying not to think about this in relation to me for once.

  ‘You bloody well go. Christ, Ru, you made this decision and you don’t need me. God, look at your plans. Please don’t make me think I’ve ruined everything.’

  I drank my drink. I guess I could go on my own. After all, I’d planned it with as much precision as a military campaign, hadn’t I? I had people to call on in Australia, in the States and even in India. Why not? I could do it. It was about me, after all. In a way, maybe, I needed to do it on my own. The missing piece of the jigsaw had been found.

  ‘Ok.’

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘Katie lovesick Parry, I am going and you can stick it up your arse.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘So, tell me about Matty.’

  ‘Well, he’s lovely, talented, but not as wound up now. God, I love him.’

  ‘And he loves you?’

  ‘I think he does …’ We slept on the sofa, or dozed when we finally stopped talking. We had our arms linked when Jess found us in the morning.

  ***

  ‘I’m going on my own.’ The more I said it, even if it was to the mirror, the stronger I felt. You see, Katie had reaffirmed my belief in happy endings and I just knew that my happy ending was out there somewhere. Telling everyone was another matter.

  Sarah was thrilled: she felt that in needing to find myself I needed to do it on my own. And she furnished me with more contacts. Jess said I was brave and she was proud; she told me of areas to avoid. Sophie just urged me to be careful, and Thomas and Johnny provided me with tips and advice. I was all set.

  My mother wasn’t as happy, but my father talked her round and gave me emergency money and a zillion phone cards, and after I had promised to call them all the time, they gave me their blessing. I was a privileged traveller. I just knew I would be all right.

  As I prepared myself for my trip in the following months, things were good, rosy, different I was good, rosy, different, and we were all happy. Well, happy-ish.

  Jess was still in love, but still finding it hard. Jerry the journalist was dedicated to his job in a way Jess couldn’t match, so she still had to put up with broken dates. She was beginning to incorporate this into her life, as any resourceful person would, and to understand the word compromise. Jerry was wonderful and Jess was living proof that you can almost have it all.

  Sophie was enjoying her new-found status of single and almost tough. She was empowered and concentrating on her career. The TV period drama was soon to be screened – they’d just finished filming and Sophie had lots of offers to consider. I took comfort from the fact that I would have one famous friend, and if I ever came back, I would work for her as her constant companion. A suitable job for an unmarried lady.

  Sarah was happy with Johnny. She looked as if she had been born to be part of a couple. She was also doing well in her new job and I expected that next time I saw her she’d have her own company, or a string of them.

  Thomas had a job – he had passed his exams. We were looking forward to having a lawyer in the family. He was dating an Australian friend of Sam’s, but assured me it was only because she was good in the sack. I still hoped to see him end up with Sophie but, then, that was my romantic world, not theirs.

  Katie was so happy. I met Matty and he was perfect, but that was what I expected. They were so good together, and I knew that when I came back, if I came back, I would still have the best friend in the world.

  Ben, well, he was still in London, living with Sam. No, I hadn’t seen them since the dinner party, and I didn’t want to. We’d all received invitations, but my friends had refused them, and so had I. They said that none of us needed Ben in our lives, which was nice and loyal of them. I still loved my friends.

  I decided that I never wanted to see Ben again. Not out of anger, or misery, or still loving him, but because I couldn’t think of anything I would gain from it. I had shut the door on
that part of my life. I expect it to remain shut.

  I had tickets and money. More importantly, I had determination. I was going first of all to South America then to the USA. I had a contact in New York, who said she’d help me get a job if I wanted. I would take it from there. I was excited, more excited than I ever thought possible.

  ***

  Before leaving, I had a dinner. Another one. Jess, Sarah, Sophie, Katie, Johnny and Thomas were coining to my last supper. They were my friends and although we had all changed a bit and gained more, we were still as close as ever. I had had a number of panics about leaving them. I had come to expect them always to be there. Leaving them was the only reservation I had about going. When I was planning the dinner party I asked Katie to invite Matty, but she refused. She said that he was too new a part of my life, and tonight I should be with the people who really knew and loved me. I was touched at that.

  Before Thomas, Johnny and Katie arrived, I had one last thing to do; to ensure that I realised I was leaving and meant it. My parents were storing my precious belongings, but things I had acquired I was giving away.

  ‘Jess, I’m giving you my electronic organiser.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t need it, actually I never did. You’ll look after it well.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Sarah, I want you to have my briefcase.’

  ‘No, really? I mean, it’s a lovely briefcase.’

  ‘I know, and I want you to have it. Sophie, I want you to have all my CDs and all my make-up. I seem to have loads that I’ve never used.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I felt like Father Christmas. All that was left were some clothes, which I gave away to a charity shop, and a couple of pictures of Ben. I didn’t know what to do with them, so in the end I threw them away. It didn’t make me feel satisfied, it made me feel sad. I was letting go, finally and properly. Sophie burst into tears.

  ‘Soph, what’s wrong?’

  ‘It’s like you’re dying, giving away all your things. I feel like I’ll never see you again.’

  ‘Of course you will, silly. You guys are my best friends.’

  ‘I know what she means. It’s like a will – it feels so final,’ Sarah said.

  ‘Yeah, but I’m glad I got the personal organiser,’ Jess said.

  The dinner was ready, the wine flowed and everyone was happy. I thought fleetingly of the dinner party I had thrown for Ben, but shut it out as I had learned to do quite effectively now.

  ‘I’m really going to miss you,’ Jess said.

  I welled up.

  ‘Yeah, who can we moan at, laugh at and hear disaster stories from?’ Thomas laughed but squeezed my arm affectionately.

  ‘I bet we’ll get regular postcards with one disaster or another on them. Ru won’t let us down,’ Sophie said.

  ‘It will not be like that. I’ve changed,’ I defended myself.

  ‘No offence, but I can’t believe that you, totally free in various different countries, are not going to make waves or, more probably, headline news,’ Sarah said.

  ‘Oh, you won’t have to send postcards, Ru, we’ll just watch the news every day.’

  ‘I’m very sorry to disappoint you, but I shall be taking things seriously from now on. I’m not going to get into scrapes, with anything, man or beast. I shall not shag loads of men, get bitten by snakes, or set off volcanoes. Everything will go smoothly.’

  They all looked at me. ‘I don’t think so,’ they chorused.

  I decided to ignore them.

  As the banter continued I looked around the table at my friends. Through the mist in my eyes that threatened tears, I took a long, hard, last look. Every story has a moral, but mine, mine had a number. In honour of my best friends: if you had ambition, this was a great place to live. In honour of Sophie: independence can be emancipating. In honour of Jess, Sarah and Katie: love is the most wonderful thing in the world. In honour of Thomas and Johnny: do not encourage men to spend too much time with their feminine sides. In honour of Katie again: parties are for Christmas not for life.

  ‘Let’s drink to it, our unusual year, and the fact I survived it.’

  ‘The fact we all survived it,’ Thomas said. We drank to that.

  We talked about the old days, me trailing Ben, all the freshers that trailed Sophie, Sarah going out with a socialist until her love for Margaret Thatcher got the better of her, Jess dating nearly the whole hockey team to keep me company, the balls we went to, the men we snogged for real and for dares, the house we lived in, the fun we had. I still loved those days with all my heart. Then we went quiet. I can’t speak for everyone else, but it really hit me that it was over. University was now a memory, a nice memory, but it would never come back. A year had gone and more would pass and that was the way life was. I would see my friends soon enough. I looked at them and knew I’d never lose them. Even I wasn’t that careless.

  Ben was over, London was over and so was the best and worst year of my life.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  I was sitting in my cave, watching television and having a cup of tea, when I heard the voice again.

  ‘Come out, come out of the cave,’ it beckoned.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ I said. I’ve had enough of this. All right, you win, I’m coming. Just give me a minute to get my shoes.’ I grabbed them, looked back at the cave that kept me warm.

  ‘Goodbye and thank you,’ I whispered, as I prepared to go into the unknown.

  If you enjoyed reading Rubber Gloves or Jimmy Choos? you might be interested in Deranged Marriage by Faith Bleasdale.

  Extract from Deranged Marriage by Faith Bleasdale

  Prologue

  At some stage in life, most people make a marriage pact. This arrangement is an undertaking to marry someone as long as you are both unattached by the time you reach a certain age.

  There are certain guidelines to follow when you are entering such a pact:

   You should be much younger than the deadline you set as the marriage-pact age. This gives both parties ample time to find their destined life partners before the agreement expiry date.

   It has to be a verbal commitment. No lawyers need be involved in this type of contract.

   Both parties should feel vulnerable and unloved before entering the agreement.

   Both parties must be intoxicated.

  If you adhere to these simple guidelines, then you have made a successful marriage pact. However, the rules do not end there. They carry on into the aftermath of the ‘deal’:

   Once made, it must be forgotten. A distant memory, only recalled when you are both happily married to other people.

   The main condition is that once made, you do not ever intend to carry out the pact. Because destiny will wash your true love up on to your shore. It’s a bit like panic-buying: when you hear there’s going to be a shortage of something, you buy because you have to, not because you want to.

  Take a word from the wise, as my mother would say, because I am now wise. I was twenty when I made my marriage pact. Without knowing the rules, I failed to adhere to some of them. Yes, I was drunk, as was he. I was vulnerable, as was he. I wasn’t in love with him; he wasn’t in love with me. We had set a ten-year deadline—adequate time to find the true loves of our lives. However, we failed, by ignoring the simplest of the rules: we didn’t make a verbal agreement, we produced a written one.

  We didn’t stop there, we rolled drunkenly to the local off-licence with it and asked the man behind the counter to witness the ‘document’. Looking back, I think we took the intoxication rule a tad too far. Afterwards, we left our wayward path, returned to the rules, and forgot about it.

  Then, one fateful day, it all came back to haunt me in the most unimaginable way.

  Chapter One

  Two Men

  ‘What do you wear to court?’ I screamed in frustration at my wardrobe. I was staring at rows and rows of clothes as if they would tell me. Of course they wouldn’t, clothes had a habit of refu
sing to answer important questions. I had been awake for hours, I felt sick and tired, and more than a tiny bit hysterical. Joe came up behind me.

  ‘Try to stay calm,’ he said. Like a red rag to a bull.

  ‘I’d like to see you try to stay calm, if you were me.’

  ‘Sorry.’ Joe looked suitably contrite, although none of this was his fault.

  ‘What do you think I should wear?’ I asked, nicely, throwing in a smile for good measure.

  ‘A suit,’ Joe replied.

  My resolution dissolved immediately. ‘Yeah thanks, mastermind. What colour?’ I felt awful for the way I was treating him but I had no control over my bitchiness.

  ‘Well, I’m wearing a grey suit so wouldn’t it make sense for us to match?’

  ‘Yes, maybe, but I don’t own a grey suit. It’s a pity you didn’t think of that earlier.’

  ‘Holly Miller, I’m not your enemy. I’m on your side. Let me have a look.’ He proceeded to flick through my clothes. He was trying so hard and didn’t deserve my wrath.

  I sat on the bed in a sulk while Joe worked his way through my wardrobe. I could tell by the way his back was hunched that he was worried about making the right choice. I couldn’t see his face but I could picture the look on it. His brows would be furrowed the way they did when he was concentrating, and his lips would be pursed together tightly. He was so beautiful when he was engrossed. Just as I was about to kiss him and apologise for my earlier outburst, the buzzer interrupted. I answered the intercom to my boss Francesca, and my friend and work colleague, Freddie. I waited at the door for them to climb the stairs. Within seconds and like a slightly out-of-breath fanfare, they arrived.

  ‘You poor lamb,’ Francesca cried, hugging me. I experienced another blast of nausea as I inhaled her generous perfume. She was such a maternal boss; it was all I could do to stop myself from crying. I chastised myself, I’m not a big cry-baby and I hate tears.