by Jenny Colgan
‘Thank you. Ehm …’ He was standing by the door, with his satchel in his hand, and he appeared to be about to say something, but then changed his mind, and didn’t. ‘… Bye.’
‘Bye,’ I said, and watched him turn round and walk down the steps. He didn’t look back at me.
I tucked Addison in and he lay staring up at me while I gently stroked his high forehead.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Sometimes, I think I’m going mad.’
‘If you think you’re going mad, that means you aren’t,’ I said. ‘I think. Unless it’s the other way round, in which case we’re all in trouble.’
‘You know, they just found an ammonia ocean on one of Saturn’s moons,’ he said. ‘It’s deep down, buried under a hundred light years of gas. You could never see it with your eye, or touch it, or even get close to it, and it doesn’t make a noise. But they still found it.’
‘And?’
‘I don’t think you can hide,’ he said, indistinctly as he closed his eyes, clearly wearied out from crying. ‘I think you still get found.’
‘I think you do too,’ I said softly, and watched him as his breathing slowed and became more regular. I watched his face for a long time: peaceful, but with a little white line of salt encrusted round his eye. And finally, when I got very weary too, I lay down beside him on the narrow bed, and I slept as well, my right arm flung across him, as if it would give some sort of protection.
I woke up the next morning with a start, and not the faintest idea where I was. Blinking heavily, the still sleeping Addison came into focus. Oh my God! Beside me, the fine lines of his face were outlined against the pillow, his eyelashes casting a shadow, and he had a line of stubble along his chin. He was absolutely beautiful.
‘Hey,’ I whispered, and he twisted towards me. Slowly, his huge eyes opened, registering at first shock, then a certain amount of good manners.
‘Ehm … hey!’ he said, smiling gingerly. I started to register a slight embarrassment.
‘How are you feeling?’
‘Ehm … better, thank you.’
I realized my arm was trapped under his, but didn’t want to scare him by wiggling it away, so I gave it up to gangrene. We were in the extremely awkward position of waking up in bed together for the first time, and the fact that we hadn’t done any naked stuff didn’t seem to have any effect on how deeply embarrassing it was, which seemed unfair.
‘Am I trapping your arm?’
‘No! No, it’s fine. Well, actually, yes.’
He moved and I was in that ridiculous position of lying on your side and having one arm too many getting in the way. I had an urge to slice it off, so we could lie facing each other in comfort.
‘I … slept very well,’ he said.
‘Yes, me too.’
I hoped this was some sort of an invitation, but his body wasn’t quite touching mine, and he seemed stiff. Well, his body language was stiff – I didn’t know about the rest of him.
We regarded each other for a bit, until I absolutely had to say something.
‘Add, you know … I’m absolutely desperate for the toilet.’
His face broke into a grin.
‘Me too.’
‘OK … I’ll get up … Would you like some tea?’
‘Yes please … Can I not have any sugar?’
‘Not a problem.’
I crept to the door, preparing to sidle out of it like a jewel thief. I listened for any movement, and when I didn’t hear anything, gently opened the door.
Kate was standing opposite me with the phone in her hand and, as of precisely this moment, an extremely shocked expression on her face.
‘What the fuck!??’
‘Ssh.’
‘Oh my God, I don’t believe …’
‘Shh! It’s not what you think.’
‘He obviously didn’t find his contact lens,’ she said, looking me up and down.
‘I thought you were meant to be in Antwerp.’
‘I was, you idiot. But instead I decided to have more fun by staying here and phoning the police. Where the fuck were you all?’
I shut the door behind me.
‘What? I was …’
‘In there, yes I’d gathered that. Josh isn’t back – did you know? Or were you too busy shagging to check? How the hell was I to know you hadn’t both been beaten up and left for dead? I mean, Jesus …’
‘I’m sorry, you know, it’s not the kind of situation you leave a note for.’
‘Obviously not.’
‘I don’t mean that. Oh God, where is Josh?’
She raised her eyebrows. I remembered.
‘Oh my God! Sha … Oh my God.’ I grinned with delight. ‘He must have gone home with her. Wow! You know, I can’t get my head round that at all. Josh having sex – it completely changes my world view. Is water flowing upwards?’
‘Well, you got off with Addison, so I wouldn’t be relying on any magnets.’
I couldn’t help grinning again. ‘We didn’t get off. We just slept together.’
Kate hit her hand on her forehead. ‘I’m sorry, I keep forgetting you’re modern.’
‘Fuck off. No, I mean, really slept. In each other’s arms.’ I sighed with bliss.
‘No monkeying?’
‘No monkeying, I swear. Just good friends.’
‘If you say so. God, I am so glad I have set back my entire career three years for this. Unlike some, I can’t just take a day off when it suits me.’
She stomped into the kitchen. I followed her and put the kettle on.
‘What do you mean, take a day off? It’s only – shit!’ It was after nine. Mrs Bigelow was going to have my arse for garters. I panicked, scrubbed my hands and face, pulled on a pair of jeans slightly too small for me and ran out of the house, only remembering halfway there that Addison would still be waiting for his tea. I closed my eyes again at the memory of him and nearly got run over by a white van. The driver had his windows shut, but I could lip-read the word he was using about me, and it wasn’t a pretty one.
I swang round Edmonton Street, expecting to see the shop closed up, or Mrs Bigelow inside honking with disapproval, as Chali hadn’t seemed as though she was on her way home for a cup of cocoa the night before, but everything seemed normal, and the gardenias out the front looked relatively healthy. I relaxed, and sauntered in.
‘Wooooooh!’ greeted me when I entered. ‘Late night last night, had we?’
I shrugged. ‘Might have done.’
Chali leapt off the counter where she’d been disdainfully painting her nails.
‘Well? I want details. Width? Overcoat?’
‘What on earth are you talking about?’
‘Overcoat. You know, was he circumcised?’
The penny dropped.
‘Chali, (1) you are a very dirty girl, and (2) nothing happened with Finn.’
She looked confused. ‘But you had a late night.’ Her eyes widened. ‘Who with?’
‘Well, you know my flatmate I’ve been telling you about …’
‘You pulled him!?’
‘Not exactly …’
I told her everything, but she wasn’t quite as thrilled as I had hoped.
‘So, let me get this straight: you blew off nice Finn for this completely fucked up wanker?’
‘I didn’t “blow off” Finn. Not everyone sleeps with their dates on the first night.’
‘Yes, but you were about to.’
‘No I wasn’t.’
‘You’d asked him in for coffee.’
‘And that means “shag me”, does it? Fine feminist you are.’
‘How many times in your whole life have you asked a bloke in for a coffee, had a chat and not shagged him?’
‘That’s not the point! It’s the principle!’
‘How many times?’
‘Well, you know … not many.’
‘How many?’
‘Nunce.’
‘Exactly. But you threw him over for some comp
lete weirdo.’
‘Addison is not weird. He’s damaged.’
‘He’s off his cake!’
‘I know. But if you could see him …’
‘I don’t like handsome men. They make me feel insecure.’
‘Is that why you hang out with all those disgusting crusties?’
‘No, that’s because I’m sleeping my way to the top of the music business.’
‘Oh yes.’
‘Speaking of which …’
She looked over my shoulder and I turned round.
A grotesquely fat, short man with slicked-back hair and sunglasses had just entered the shop.
‘Hey … babyy! I was gonna bring you flowers, but I figured you already had some.’
His accent was mid-Atlantic via Birmingham. It made dogs whine and cover their ears with their paws.
‘Bo!’ Chali ran into his arms.
‘Holly, this is Bo – he’s a producer for the Shingles, and he’s lined me up with an audition!’
‘I’m very happy for you both.’
Bo put his arm round Chali and pinched her on the bum.
‘C’mon, darling – I’m taking you out to brunch.’
‘Is that all right, Holl?’ asked Chali, snuggling up to him.
‘Fine,’ I said. ‘I’ll just sit here, planning how not to go out with, you know, weirdoes.’
She stuck her tongue out at me and danced out of the shop.
I spent the day fantasizing madly. By lunchtime I’d moved us to Tuscany, with four children – no, actually, make that two children, otherwise I’d have a body like a beanbag. By two thirty, he’d developed some computer thingy and we’d become as rich as Bill Gates but without the acne. I’d even mentally rehearsed what I was going to say when I got home. I wasn’t going to rush up to him and fling my arms round him. I wasn’t going to move my stuff into his room. I wasn’t even going to pull down his trousers, strong as the urge might be. I would simply wait for Josh to cook us dinner, then invite him in. Then we would all sit together, and it would be lovely. We could hold hands. I might even let him feel me up under the table. No, nitch that – that would be disgusting. All four of us would, for once, partake in intelligent, grown-up debate without any name-calling or slanging matches. Hmm.
I knew something was wrong when I walked in the door, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Kate was in the sitting room, staring out of the window.
‘What’s going on?’
‘He’s not back,’ she said flatly. ‘Josh isn’t back. His work called and asked if we’d seen him.’
That was it. There was no smell of cooking.
‘Wow. Well, you know, he’ll come back when he’s ready, I suppose. Aren’t you happy for him?’
‘What if he never comes back? What if she keeps him in sex prison?’
‘Well, that’s still better than Sophie, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t know.’
I looked at her. ‘You’re really upset, aren’t you?’
‘I’m not upset. I’m just pissed off that he couldn’t even phone to tell us whether he’d been killed or not.’
‘You are – you should see yourself! You’re upset. You’re jealous.’
‘Of course I’m not jealous! He’s one of my oldest friends, and I just think he could have had a little consideration, that’s all.’
‘Kate is jealous! Kate is jealous!’
‘Piss off, would you? Oh, and if you’re going to start having sex in the flat, can you try and keep it down? Oh God, if you two are together now it’s going to be rut city around here. And Josh is in sex prison. What on earth is the matter with my life?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe you scare men,’ I said.
‘Thank you, that helps, that really helps. My therapist says I come over as too independent to cover up my essential neediness. Do you think that’s true?’
‘I think your therapist talks through his bottom. Can you pay me eighty quid a week? Then we’ll sit for an hour and I’ll say, “Don’t go out with married men … Don’t go out with married men … Don’t go out with married men,” and then you can completely ignore me.’
She grimaced at me.
‘Actually, I’ll be pleased when you start shagging Addison. Maybe it’ll keep you quiet for a bit.’
‘I wouldn’t be too sure about that,’ I said, and left her to it.
So much for my dinner plan. Addison’s door was tightly shut, which was a bit ominous. I stood in the hall, suddenly wracked with indecision and what last night might have meant, if anything. Maybe he’d want to forget the whole thing?
I tapped lightly on his door, and heard no reply.
My absolute first urge was to forget the whole thing. This, I suddenly realized, is what makes boys with whom you have had a positively wonderful time decide in that utterly logical boy way of theirs not to call you afterwards for no reason whatsoever.
You know what it’s like: boys you have met, had a brilliant time with, possibly even slept with – but not in a seedy way; in a fun, adult, getting-to-know-each-other way. You know how many siblings he has, how he gets on with his dad, what stupid things he did at college; you’ve spent all night exchanging information in an intense and fascinating manner. You laugh, you eat in bed, you have a bath together, it seems almost churlish to ask him if he’s going to ring you as you clearly are such soul mates – and then he doesn’t ring you! And, worse than that, it makes you feel bad about yourself.
I should/shouldn’t have gone down on him, you think (delete as appropriate). Why did I tell him I used to go out with a policeman who accidentally broke my leg? Just mentioning ‘I like dogs’ isn’t instant boy code for ‘I’m desperate for a baby’, is it? Is it? Maybe it is!
For years this amazed me. I decided that, like in The Matrix, boys were living in a completely different parallel universe and were attempting to ‘enslave’ us whilst waiting for ‘the one’, probably a short-haired girl who would astonish you with her dullness and all-round podginess when you ran into them both at a dinner party a year later, displaying their engagement rings and talking about Ikea. The great scientific minds of the age should be working on it. But of course they’re mostly blokes, aren’t they? I suspect conspiracy.
It isn’t all one-way, though – sometimes, due to alcohol, boredom or a sheer sense of pity, one has been known to take men home on a ‘mercy mission’ basis. This type you will gladly hide from forevermore, including plastic surgery and moving to minor South American countries.
Addison, naturally, wasn’t one of those. In fact, he was someone I’d been worrying about and thinking about for months. And here he was. Or, at least, here was the best opportunity I’d had so far. And I could suddenly understand why boys might think, ‘Well, she’s very nice, and I did have a brilliant time, but, you know, there’s football on the telly and we’ve just ordered in a curry and – Oh, fuck it, I think I’ll just wait around for someone a little dumpier. After all, I’ve got the whole of my thirties to get this sorted out.’
What I hadn’t factored in was that if you live with someone it’s slightly more difficult to avoid them for the rest of your life. Although, in Addison’s case, not impossible. And I also hadn’t factored in that the reason he hadn’t opened his door might be that he didn’t want to talk to me either.
Gulp.
I pushed open the door a little, my heart in my mouth. Addison wasn’t there. His computer was switched off.
Oh no! He’d gone to South America!
Stunned and upset, I stomped into the kitchen to see where Kate had put the wine. Brilliantly, Addison was sitting at the kitchen table.
‘Hey!’ I said, more excitedly than I intended. ‘You’re not in your room!’
‘No,’ he said slowly.
‘Why – did you think I was going to attack you?’
Aaargh! Why did I say that?
‘Ehm … no. I just … thought I’d be here when you came home.’
Ooh! I loved him.
&nbs
p; ‘Right – fine – ehm.’
I felt myself start to blush. He blushed in unison, until it felt like we were having a tomato competition.
‘Josh isn’t back then,’ I observed, needlessly.
‘No.’
‘Looks like no dinner in that case.’
Addison shrugged. ‘I don’t usually care much about dinner.’
‘Aren’t you hungry?’
He thought about it.
‘I suppose so.’
‘Well then.’
I marched over to the cupboards and threw them open. I didn’t seem to recognize anything inside them. What on earth was hoi sin sauce? Truffle oil?
‘Ehm … what do you want to eat?’
He shrugged his shoulders.
‘Whatever you’re having?’
‘What do you like?’ I asked, as if he could name any of the world’s major dishes and I’d whip it up for him then and there.
‘I quite like cornflakes,’ he said.
Perfect! (1) we had some, (2) I could make them, and (3) they are delicious. The man had taste.
‘Coming right up,’ I said. ‘With sugar or au naturel?’
‘What’s the house style?’
‘À la maison would be without sugar, using a luxurious amount of extremely creamy milk.’
‘Can I have that, please?’
‘Certainly, sir.’
I ceremoniously poured them out and we sat there, alternately scoffing and throwing shy glances at one another. It was bliss.
Kate stomped in in the middle of it.
‘Oh my God. Is this dinner?’
We both nodded happily.
‘Have you finished all the milk?’
We nodded again.
‘Great great great great great.’
She seized the wine bottle and vanished. Addison and I grinned at each other.
‘So … ehm.’
This was definitely a tad uncomfortable. Well, after all, I’d never actually officially ‘lived with’ anyone before, if you defined ‘living with’ as ‘having the same door key as’. I’d always thought that one day I might, but those plans tended to include, you know, kissing them or something. We seemed to have gone straight from first meeting to end of year one. I mean, we might as well go out and get a Renault Espace. What if it was awful?
