All She Wants

by Jonathan Harvey

  We followed the bus for about ten minutes, driving at a sluggish pace that annoyed other drivers, who beeped their horns and did road-rage gesticulations, making us giggle. It was impossible to drive any faster without overtaking the bus. Every time it stopped, Mrs B stalled the car and gasped, ‘Has she got off?’ With me straining to see round the side to the pavement. Eventually, the Maxwell girl got off. Mrs B then pulled over and we sat and watched. Again, she was stood on the pavement, fiddling with her phone. We were on the outskirts of Mandelieu; there were a few dull shops on either side, then a tree-lined avenue swept up the hill to our left. This is the road that Maxwell Features took when eventually she put her phone away.

  ‘Of course,’ I said, ‘she could just be going to her next job.’

  ‘With a bag full of shopping? I don’t think so.’

  I nodded. Miss Marple had a point. A minute or so later, Mrs B put the car in gear and swerved across the road and into the avenue. She drove at a snail’s pace, the green uniform a hazy shadow in the distance. And then we saw her turn into a property on the right. Mrs B put her foot down and sped up to it, parking outside. Again she hit the kerb.

  I looked at her and grimaced. What now? Mrs B grimaced back. Then her face fell.

  ‘Rats!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I left my bloody rosé at the bus stop.’ She shook her head, incredulous at her mistake.

  ‘What do I do now?’ I ventured.

  ‘That, Miss McGee, is up to you, but I’ll wait here. You could always just post it in their box. She has got a brother. Petronella said. So . . .’

  I looked up at the house. It was more modest than the houses in Mrs B’s neighbourhood. It wasn’t exactly a council block, but the fence was in need of repair and the shutters had seen better days. It looked like a bungalow. Taking a deep breath, I opened the car door and clambered out.

  ‘Wish me luck!’ I said, looking back into the car. Mrs B nodded and I shut the door as quietly as possibly.

  From inside the house I could hear raised voices, muffled through the walls. I edged closer to the fence and peered through a hole in it. On the other side I could see a lush green lawn sweeping down the hill we’d just driven up, and to my left, the house. It wasn’t a bungalow, I now saw, though it was quite squat, like it had been squashed. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as the voices seemed to be getting nearer. I saw some open French windows leading onto a patio, not too dissimilar to Mrs B’s. And then the shouting stopped.

  And then.

  And then.

  And then Matthew came out onto the patio.

  I knew it was him immediately. I just knew it. I’d recognize those eyes anywhere.

  But the second I saw him I realized. I realized why he had had to shut down his account. I realized that he had been living in a fantasy world just as much as me.

  THIRTY

  My heart was in my mouth as I hurried to his gate and opened it quietly. I took a deep breath and stepped onto his drive. Clutching my card I made my way quickly round the side to the terrace, where he was sitting, staring at the view. I froze. He’d not heard me.

  ‘Matthew?’

  He looked round. Our eyes met. I gave an embarrassed smile and he just froze, as if he was seeing a ghost. I heard footsteps and then his sister came out on the terrace.

  ‘Oi, what d’you think you’re playing at?’ She was heading towards me, furious. ‘Get off my land, you’re trespassing!’

  I dodged her and headed towards Matthew, holding out the card.

  ‘I just wanted to give this to—’

  ‘He doesn’t wanna see you!’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered as I held the card out to him. But he didn’t raise his hand to take it.

  The sister intervened, snatching the card from me and placing it in his lap.

  ‘He can’t move his arms. He can move his fingers, but he can’t move his arms.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  Matthew was still frozen.

  ‘Right, you’ve given him your card, now get lost. And make sure you shut the gate on your way out.’

  I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

  ‘I had no idea,’ I said.

  ‘You had no idea coz he never told you. Go on, out.’ I really did feel like slapping the sister. I looked at her. I’d met bullies like her before.

  ‘I’ll go when Matthew tells me to go, not before.’

  Her eyes narrowed and her top lip curled unflatteringly She snapped a look at Matthew and pulled a face, as if to say, ‘Well?’ Matthew sighed.

  ‘Rosie, if you could get Jodie a drink.’

  Her eyes widened in horror. ‘You wanna give your mate a drink? You get her one. Let’s see how far you get!’

  And with that she spun round and stomped back into the house.

  ‘My sister’s . . . quite hot-headed,’ he said, though the explanation was unnecessary. I sat myself down on a garden chair a few feet away from him and smiled.

  ‘It’s OK. I’m not thirsty.’

  He nodded. He caught me looking him up and down and I was instantly mortified.

  ‘How . . . ? How did it happen?’ I asked, my voice dry.

  ‘Snowboarding,’ he said sadly.

  ‘When?’

  ‘Eight months ago now. I used to count it in days. Then weeks. Now months.’

  He’d put on weight since the photographs I’d seen online. That must have been through lack of exercise, sitting in his wheelchair all day. But his face was still as kindly as ever, even if the delightful smile was now locked away in those photos.

  ‘I’m sorry if I freaked you out,’ I said.

  ‘I’m sorry if I’m freaking you out,’ he echoed.

  I shook my head. ‘No it’s . . . lovely to meet you.’

  ‘Likewise.’

  And then he did it. He gave me that amazing smile. He might have been a paraplegic, but his teeth were stunning.

  ‘I’m sorry, Jodie. I’m sorry I . . . never told you the truth.’

  ‘Snap,’ I admitted.

  ‘I know you’re an actress.’

  Oh God.

  ‘I didn’t when we first got chatting, but I was channel-hopping about a month ago and suddenly I saw your face on the screen.’

  ‘You should’ve said.’

  ‘I liked it. It felt like a good fit. You were pretending and so was I.’

  ‘You weren’t pretending, Matthew.’

  ‘Well, I was pretending I was how I used to be. And I’m not. I hate my life. I hate depending on Rosie to . . . do the sort of stuff a sister shouldn’t have to do, but . . . well. When I was chatting to you, my life felt normal again. That’s what I liked. And I liked the symmetry of us both pretending.’

  Symmetry. He used words like symmetry in everyday conversation. He was fabulous.

  ‘But then you said you were coming over and I panicked.’

  I nodded.

  ‘The fantasy had to stop.’

  I nodded. ‘Or you could’ve just told me the truth.’

  ‘Too scared.’

  I nodded. ‘I know that feeling.’

  ‘I enjoyed our chats, though. And the other stuff, too.’

  I blushed. He was referring to the cyber sex, I just knew he was.

  ‘But even that . . . that was just a fantasy of a memory and . . . God, I wish I could shrug.’

  He smiled. I smiled.

  ‘How’s Stuart?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Did he hit you?’

  I nodded. He looked pained, looked at his lap, shook his head.

  ‘But I know this much,’ I said, ‘he’ll never hit me again.’

  ‘How long you here for?’

  ‘Couple more days.’

  He nodded and looked out at the view.

  ‘Sea’s amazing, isn’t it?’ I said, looking out, too.

  ‘I had the option of moving home after the accident, but I like the heat, though it doesn’t like me. And I hate the i
dea of going back to England a failure. Here, I can just hide away.’

  I gulped. I actually thought I was going to cry. Jesus, this was ridiculous.

  ‘The fantasy me wanted to run away with you. Protect you from that bastard.’

  I looked at him. He was an unlikely knight in shining armour, but it was lovely to hear all the same.

  ‘And the real you?’

  ‘The real me isn’t ready. I’m a moody, selfish, arrogant twat, Jodie. And I’ve still not made peace with what’s happened. I’m not ready for anyone else in my life. You know?’

  I nodded. I did know.

  ‘Well, when you read the card, you’ll see I feel the same really.’

  He smiled sadly.

  ‘Bad timing?’ he offered and I nodded.

  ‘Bad timing.’

  A thought suddenly hit me.

  ‘You know . . . you know when you were typing to me? You weren’t dictating it all to Rosie, were you?’

  He laughed. ‘No! Don’t worry, you’ve not had a cyber threesome with a brother and sister.’

  Thank God for that.

  ‘I have me own computer. I can move the fingers in me hands, but mostly I use this stick thing on me head.’

  And relax.

  ‘I give good head,’ he continued.

  I could have sat there and chatted all day. He was as charming and delightful as his internet chat had been.

  ‘Sorry if this trip’s been a waste of time.’

  ‘No. No it hasn’t. I’ve become really good friends with the woman I’m renting a room from. She’s mad as a box of frogs and I love her to bits.’

  ‘Well that’s good.’

  ‘And the area’s lovely. I’d definitely come again. Also, it’s nice not to be recognized everywhere I go.’

  He nodded. ‘Well, in the plastics world you’re a force to be reckoned with.’

  I nodded. Jeez, we were like a pair of nodding dogs, ‘Best administrative assistant slash secretary around, mate.’

  Mate. He liked that. It was northern and pally. Laddy And diffused any fears about potential sexual tension.

  ‘I’ve . . . I’ve got a doctor’s appointment in a bit. Takes me a while to get into the taxi, so . . .’

  I stood up.

  ‘It was nice meeting you. Come back online some time. We can still be mates, can’t we?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  I walked towards him. Underneath his wheelchair I could see a white sort of fleece, like the kind you put in dogs’ beds. For some reason it broke my heart. I leaned over and pecked him on the forehead, then stood back. He didn’t look very impressed.

  ‘That was a bit patronizing. You should always kiss a cripple on the lips. It’s the law.’

  ‘Shit. Sorry.’

  I squatted down and moved my face to his. His lips were soft. Wet. It would have been so easy to turn it into a snog, but both of us knew that wasn’t on the cards. It didn’t stop us lingering a bit longer than we should have, though. I pulled back and stood.

  ‘Bye, Matthew.’

  ‘Jodie?’

  ‘Mm?’

  ‘You’re a good woman. You’re wicked. Don’t settle for second best.’

  I nodded, trying not to cry. Why did he have to be so nice? Then I turned and walked back down the terrace. Before I slipped round the side of the house, I turned to smile at him again. He was already smiling back at me.

  ‘If I could wave I would!’ he called, chuckling.

  ‘Don’t worry, I can wave for two,’ I replied, and raised both my hands and waved.

  ‘Bragger.’

  ‘See you.’

  ‘See you, Jodie.’

  I walked round the house to the gate. To the car. Got in. Mrs B was strumming her fingers on the dashboard.

  ‘Well? Closure?’

  ‘Oh yes. Closure.’

  ‘Come on. There’s a bottle of rosé at a bus stop with our names on it.’

  She turned the key in the ignition and pulled off. We made the journey in silence. I was overcome by waves of sadness as I imagined everything Matthew had been through these past eight months. But I knew Mrs B wouldn’t be full of questions. By the time we started chugging up her street I started to feel happy. I couldn’t help but smile. I’d achieved one of the things on my list from last night. I had apologized to Matthew and realized I wasn’t the only person who acted impulsively and lived in a fantasy land occasionally. Maybe I was on my journey to contentment. A one-way ticket to Roar.

  But then, as we neared the villa, I saw a bloke standing outside the gate with a pull-along suitcase. My pull-along suitcase.

  There, in a straw pork-pie hat, Adidas tracksuit top and baseball shorts, was Stuart.

  Oh God.

  ‘I’ve given up the booze,’ he said.

  ‘I haven’t,’ I said, ‘though I’m hoping I’ll have drunk so much rosé by the time I leave here that my system won’t be able to take any more alcohol.’

  ‘I’ve started an anger management course.’

  ‘Three gold stars.’

  ‘And counselling.’

  ‘Don’t. You’ll be dragging me on Jeremy Kyle next.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘So am I,’ I said. ‘Anyway How did you know I was here? I haven’t told a soul.’

  ‘You paid a deposit on the credit card. I saw it online. Tracked you down that way. This is a big romantic gesture.’

  ‘Thank you. It makes it all the more special, you pointing it out to me.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  We were sitting on sunloungers by the pool. I’d made him put sunblock on his nose because it had a tendency to burn in the sun. He looked slightly comical. I could hear Mrs B clattering away in the house. She never usually made any noise, so I guessed it was for my benefit, reminding me that there was someone around in case Stu decided to whack me one. I expected to feel scared when I first saw him again but actually, seeing him there outside the house I’d just felt annoyance. Annoyance that he’d interrupted my nice holiday. Annoyance had led to acceptance, and now I just felt pity. It was a bit like looking at a version of myself at various points in my life, someone who had majorly screwed up, but it made me realize that at least when I’d screwed up I’d not hurt anyone. I didn’t think. Well, not physically anyway.

  ‘I wanna get back with you, Jode,’ he said.

  This time I said nothing.

  ‘D’you think there’s any possibility?’ he said.

  That . . . was the million-dollar question.

  ‘I’ve been with you two and a half years,’ he said. ‘That’s nearly a thousand days. And on only two have them have I . . . lost it.’

  Oh, so he’d become a spin doctor now. Interesting.

  ‘So what, I’m due another smack in about five hundred days? I’ll make sure I put it in my diary,’ I replied.

  He couldn’t win. I had the upper hand, for once. And it felt good. I told him we couldn’t go back to how it was. I told him I wasn’t going to rush into anything either way. I told him it wasn’t just about the violence, rare though it had been, it was about more than that. It was about him resenting my success. It was about him being fed up with always being my ‘plus one’. It was about me not being sure what I wanted from life, and until I did things would have to be different. I proposed that, for the time being, we lived as flatmates. Separate bedrooms, separate lives, till I worked out what I wanted to do. He asked if this was a test, did he need to prove himself? I told him no, it was a holding measure. We had to keep calm and carry on till I decided what would make me happy.

  ‘Anyway. Now for the good news,’ he said.

  ‘What’s that?’ I asked.

  ‘Well, you’ve had your phone off,’ he said.

  ‘I know. I’m the one who switched it off,’ I replied.

  ‘And everyone’s been trying to get hold of you,’ he said.

  ‘Who? Why?’ I said.

  ‘Coz you’ve made the shortlist for the Soap Awards. You’re up for
Best Actress,’ he said.

  ‘Oh,’ I said, though I also have to add my heart skipped a beat and I felt like jumping up and punching the air, but I didn’t want to display too much emotion in front of him: I was enjoying giving him the impression I’d turned into a deep-thinking, overly rational, centred queen of Zen.

  ‘The ceremony’s next week,’ he said, ‘and they want you on Brunch With Bronwen on Tuesday.’

  Brunch With Bronwen. Everyone’s favourite breakfast telly show. I had finally made it, I told myself sarcastically. He sounded so excited when he said it, like it was the most amazing thing in the world. Maybe he’d forgotten that I’d already been on it twice before and I found Bronwen grating, sycophantic and shallow, but hey, all publicity was good publicity, right?

  ‘I think you’ll win,’ he said.

  ‘Who am I up against?’ I asked.

  ‘That bird from EastEnders – Colette thingy.’

  ‘Court,’ I said. She was very popular. And never out of the tabloids with her fluctuating weight, on-off marriage to a footballer and her fondness for turning up at the opening of an envelope. Her autobiography, I’ll See You in Court, had recently been published, and in it she’d confessed that she had been offered Sister Agatha in Acacia Avenue and turned it down because she couldn’t face being parted from her beloved toddler daughter Chloee (yes, it is spelt like that), which was a bit embarrassing for me but never mind. She was a busty, blousy cockney sparra with a heart of gold, and even I had to admit the girl had star quality. I didn’t stand a chance.

  ‘Oh well, you win some, you lose some. Still, it’s nice to be nominated,’ I said.

  ‘I’ll never hurt you again,’ he promised.

  And in that moment I believed him.

  ‘Hiya, Jodie love, are you OK? I’ve been going out of my mind here.’

  ‘Yeah, Mum, I’m fine. Sorry about that. I just had to get away for a bit.’

  ‘Where are you? Blackpool?’

  Blackpool?

  ‘South of France.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘South of France.’

  ‘In France?’

  ‘Yeah, in the south.’

  ‘Oh. What did you go there for?’

  ‘Dunno, just felt like it. It’s where the Cannes Film Festival is.’