by Marian Keyes
“Karen, please,” I murmured soothingly.
“Doan patronize me,” she said. “Sing the fuckin’ song. You’re so va…come on, everybody!”
“Er, you’re so vain,” sang Charlotte and I, feeling very foolish. “Ahem, I, er, bet, you, um, think this song is about, ah, you…”
She passed out before we got to the second verse.
We tiptoed out of her room, shutting the door behind us.
“Oh Lucy,” wailed Charlotte. “I’m so worried.”
“Don’t be,” I said soothingly, with a confidence that I didn’t feel. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. She’ll bounce back in no time.”
“Not about her!” said Charlotte. “I’m worried about me.”
“Why?”
“First Gus goes, then Daniel, what if Simon is next?”
“But why on earth should he? It’s not a contagious disease.”
“But bad things always happen in threes,” said Charlotte, her soft pink face crumpled with anxiety.
“Maybe they do in Yorkshire,” I said kindly. “But you’re in London now, so don’t worry.”
“You’re right,” she said, cheering up. “Anyway, Gus has dumped you twice, so with Daniel breaking up with Karen, that’s three already.”
“Well, what a pity that I didn’t arrange for Gus to break up with me one more time. I could have saved Karen all this upset,” I said a little tartly.
“Don’t worry, Lucy,” said Charlotte. “You couldn’t have known.”
Chapter 54
And then there were three.
Slow as she usually was, Charlotte’s instinct had been entirely correct. Simon did not call her at work on Tuesday, and he normally called her every day, sometimes twice a day.
When she called him on Tuesday evening he wasn’t in and his normally friendly roommate was awkward and uncommunicative as to Simon’s whereabouts.
“Lucy, I have a very bad feeling about this,” Charlotte said.
She called him at work on Wednesday and Simon didn’t answer his phone. Instead a woman did, and asked Charlotte, “Who’s calling?” When Charlotte said “Charlotte,” the woman immediately said, “Simon’s in a meeting.”
Charlotte called back about an hour later and exactly the same thing happened.
So, right away, Charlotte got her friend Jennifer to call and Simon was suddenly available to take the call from “Jennifer Morris.”
Jennifer handed the phone to Charlotte when Simon said “Hello,” and Charlotte said “Simon, what’s going on? Are you trying to avoid me?”
And Simon laughed nervously and jovially and said, “Indeed not, indeed not, indeed not!”
Charlotte said that was when she really knew something was wrong because Simon would normally never say “Indeed not.”
“Meet me for lunch, Simon,” said Charlotte.
“Would love to, would love to,” said Simon. “But no can do.”
“Why are you talking like that?” asked Charlotte.
“Like what?” asked Simon.
“Like a dickhead with a mobile phone,” said Charlotte.
(Which I thought was quite ironic because I had always thought that Simon was like a dickhead with a mobile phone. But I didn’t say so because I didn’t want to upset Charlotte any further.)
“No idea what you’re talking about,” said Simon.
Charlotte sighed. “Okay, tonight then.”
“‘Fraid that’s impossible,” said Simon.
“Why?”
“Business, Charlotte, business,” he drawled.
“But you’ve never had to do that before,” said Charlotte.
“First time for everything,” said Simon smoothly.
“Well, when can I see you?” asked Charlotte.
“Bad news, Charlie,” said Simon, “but you can’t.”
“Until when?” she asked.
“You’re not making this easy for either of us, are you?” he asked lightly.
“What are you talking about?”
“I mean, Charlotte, that you can’t see me.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s o-v-e-r, over.”
“Over? Us? You mean we’re over?” she asked.
“Bravo,” he laughed. “The message finally hits home.”
“And when were you going to tell me?” she asked.
“I’ve just told you, haven’t I?” he said in a reasonable voice.
“But only because I called you. Were you going to call me? Or were you just going to let me find out myself?”
“You would have gotten the message soon enough,” he said.
“But why?” asked Charlotte, her voice wobbling. “Don’t you, don’t you…like me anymore?”
“Oh, Charlotte, don’t make a fool of yourself,” he said. “It was fun, we both enjoyed ourselves and now I’ve found someone else to have fun with.”
“But what about me?” asked Charlotte. “Who will I have fun with?”
“That’s not my problem,” said Simon. “But, anyway, you’ll meet someone else. You’re bound to, with those tits.”
“I don’t want to have fun with anyone else,” pleaded Charlotte. “I want to have fun with you.”
“Tough!” he said cheerfully. “Your time is up. Don’t be selfish, Charlie, let some of the other girls have a turn.”
“But I thought you cared about me,” she said.
“Well, you shouldn’t have taken it so seriously,” he answered.
“So this is it?” she asked tearfully.
“This is it,” he agreed.
“Lucy, he was like a total stranger,” she said later. “I thought I knew him. I thought he cared about me, I just can’t believe he could drop me so suddenly.”
“I just don’t understand why!” she said over and over again. “What did I do wrong? Why did he stop loving me? Maybe I’ve put on some weight? Have I, Lucy? Or did I go on too much about the bad time I was having at work? If only I knew.”
She shook her head in bewilderment. “There’s nothing so weird as men,” she sighed.
At least she wasn’t tortured by the images of that boyfriend-stealing mythical woman who coloured the imaginations of us small-breasted, rejected women—A Girl with Bigger Tits, because Charlotte was That Girl with Bigger Tits.
But she doubted herself in every other area.
She forced him to see her. She stalked him with a tenacity and a determination that you wouldn’t have believed she was capable of when you first saw her round, innocent face. She waited outside his office for a couple of days at his going-home time, then he finally agreed to have a drink with her, in the hope that she might leave him alone.
One drink led to several more and they both got very drunk and went back to Simon’s and had sex.
Then in the morning Simon said, “That was very pleasant, Charlotte. Now stop hanging around outside my office. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
Charlotte was rather taken aback by all of this. She was inexperienced enough in the arena of love to assume that because he had slept with her, it meant that their romance was back on track.
“But…but,” she said. “What about last night? Didn’t it…?”
“No, Charlotte,” interrupted Simon impatiently. “It didn’t mean a thing to me. Sex is sex. Now please get dressed and leave.”
“And the worst thing is, Lucy,” she complained afterwards. “I still don’t know why he ended it with me.”
“But why not?” I asked.
“I forgot to ask.”
“What were you doing all that time?” I asked in surprise. “No, no, don’t tell me, I can guess.”
“I’m too young to be a Spinster of this Parish,” said Charlotte gloomily.
“You’re never too young,” I said wisely.
Chapter 55
Megan was due to start her new job that week, but there were complications. Well, only one actually.
To wit: Frank Erskine’s mental health.
T
he MD wasn’t too pleased with the behaviour of one of his Directors.
Frank’s offer to create a new job for an attractive, tanned young woman, who wore shorts, was regarded as the embarrassing act of a middle-aged man who should
have known better. The company buzzed with the rumour that he was having a combination of midlife crisis and a nervous breakdown and wasn’t capable of rational thought.
He was persuaded—quite forcibly, according to my sources in Personnel—to take an extended period of sick leave. Luckily his wife agreed to stand by him, and the press was kept out of it.
When he returned—although no one really thought he would—then Management would be only too happy to talk to Megan about her promotion.
But until then, Megan was condemned to fester in Credit Control. Meredia nearly vomited with glee.
Chapter 56
Three hearts were heavy.
It was as if we had all been struck down by the plague. The apartment should have been draped in black crêpe. All about us was an air of terrible gloom, sickness and death.
Whenever I came home I expected to hear the sounds of a funeral dirge being played on an organ, coming from the attic.
“There is a blight upon this house,” I said, and the other two miserably agreed.
Then Charlotte asked what a blight was.
Even though it was still high summer, once you crossed the threshold into our apartment, it was loveless, bleak winter.
One Sunday lunchtime Karen and Charlotte went to the pub to get drunk and hiss venomously at each other about how small Simon’s and Daniel’s penises had been really. And how the sex had been terrible and that they had never actually had any orgasms, but had faked every single one of them.
I would have loved to go with them but I had placed myself under voluntary house arrest.
I was slightly worried about how much I had been drinking, both during and especially post Gus, so I was seeking to escape by another route.
I was reading a great book about women who love too much. I was amazed that our paths had never crossed until now, but it had been published a good ten years earlier when I was a mere novice at being neurotic, only barely getting the hang of things.
The phone rang.
“Daniel,” I said—for it was he. “And what do you want, you philandering fucker?”
“Lucy,” he said in a low, urgent tone. “Is she there?”
“Is who here?” I asked coldly.
“Karen?”
“No, she’s not, I’ll tell her you called. Although don’t hold your breath if you’re expecting her to call back.”
“No, Lucy.” He sounded frightened. “Don’t tell her I called. I want to talk to you.”
“Well, I don’t want to talk to you,” I said.
“Please, Lucy!”
“No, get lost,” I sputtered. “I’ve got my loyalties, you know. You can’t just mess my friend around, break her heart, and still expect me to be your bosom buddy.”
I expected him to say something about my bosoms, but he didn’t.
“But, Lucy, you were my friend first,” he said.
“Tough,” I said simply. “You know the rules—boy meets girl, boy breaks up with girl, boy has contract on life put out by girl’s roommates.”
“Lucy,” said Daniel, sounding very serious. “I’ve got something to say to you.”
“Say it then, but be quick about it.”
“Well, I never thought I’d hear myself saying this, but…well…I miss you, Lucy.”
I felt a stab of sadness. But that was nothing unusual.
“You didn’t call me all summer,” I reminded him.
“You didn’t call me either.”
“Well, how could I? You were going out with someone and she would have killed me.”
“You were going out with someone also,” Daniel pointed out.
“Hah! Gus was hardly a threat, was he?”
“I wouldn’t have said that.”
“I know what you mean,” I said, going all dewy-eyed at the memory of Gus. “Even though he’s not very tall, I bet he can stand his own in hand-to-hand combat.”
“I didn’t mean that,” said Daniel. “He doesn’t need to hit anyone. He could have paralyzed me with five minutes of his boring conversation.”
I was outraged. The idea of Daniel calling Gus boring. It was too ludicrous to even bother arguing about.
“Sorry,” said Daniel. “I shouldn’t have said that. He’s a great laugh, really.”
“Do you mean it?”
“No. But I’m afraid that you’ll slam the phone down and refuse to see me.”
“You’re quite right to be afraid,” I said. “Because I’ve no intention of seeing you.”
“Please, Lucy?” he asked.
“What for? You’re so pathetic—you’re momentarily
without a woman and your ego can’t handle it, so you call up good old Lucy and…”
“Jesus,” he complained, “if I needed an ego boost, you’d be the last person I’d go to.”
“Then why do you want to see me?”
“Because I miss you.”
I’d momentarily run out of insults for him, and Daniel saw his opening.
“I’m not bored,” he said earnestly, “I’m not lonely, I don’t just want female company, I don’t need an ego boost. I want to see you. No one else but you.”
There was a pause. The air reverberated with his sincerity and for a moment I nearly believed him.
“Listen to you,” I said with a little laugh. “You think you can charm every girl who crosses your path, don’t you?”
But despite my bluster, there was a small flicker of something else. Relief, maybe? Although I couldn’t give in just yet, it would disappoint him.
“You know that your usual smooth, slick lines don’t work on me,” I reminded Daniel.
“I know,” he agreed, “And I know that if you do meet me, you’ll be horrible.”
“Oh yes?”
“You’re going to call me a flirt and a.. a…”
“A slimebucket?” I supplied helpfully.
“Yes, a slimebucket. And a womanizer?”
“Of course—you can’t even imagine what I have in store for you.”
“That’s okay.”
“You’re a sick man, Daniel Watson.”
“But you’ll meet me?”
“But…but, I like it here.”
“What are you doing?”
“Lying down…”
“You can lie down here.”
“Eating chocolate…”
“I’ll buy you as much chocolate as you want.”
“But I’m reading a great book and you’ll want me to talk to you…”
“I won’t. I promise.”
“And I’ve no makeup on and I look horrible.”
“So what?”
And when I asked, “How will I get over to your apartment?”, my capitulation was complete.
“I’ll drive over and get you,” offered Daniel.
At that I threw back my head and laughed mirthlessly.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Daniel,” I said. “Be realistic. How do you think Karen’s going to feel if she sees your car outside our apartment?”
“Oh yes, of course,” muttered Daniel, sounding ashamed. “How could I have been so insensitive?”
“Don’t be stupid,” I scoffed. “We all know that you’re insensitive—after all, you’re a man, aren’t you? No, I mean if she finds out that you’ve come to see me and not her she’ll kill you. And me,” I added, suddenly touched by the cold hand of fear.
“Well, we’ll have to think of something else then,” said Daniel.
I waited for him to acknowledge that we couldn’t see each other.
“I know!” he said eagerly. “I’ll pick you up down by the traffic lights. She’ll never see me there.”
“Daniel!” I shouted, outraged. “How could you…? Oh all right then.�
�
As I got ready, I was aware of a feeling of subterfuge that I found both frightening and exciting.
Karen hadn’t forbidden me to see Daniel. Not forbidden, as such. But I knew that she expected me to hate him for what he had done to her. That female roommate solidarity dictated a “One out, all out” stance whenever our guys dumped us. If they broke up with one of us, they had to forgo the pleasure of the company of all three.
But, once I had spoken to Daniel, I realized how much I had missed him. Now that we seemed to be friends again, it was safe to admit it. I had that bittersweet feeling that happens after you make up with someone.
He was fun and fun was a commodity that had been fairly thin on the ground of late.
I’d had enough of Karen, Charlotte and I going around with pinched faces and almost never eating—picking up a cracker, nibbling a tiny corner of it and then putting it down again and completely forgetting about it.
And I was worn down by the violent films that Karen kept renting. Carrie and Dirty Weekend and anything else that she could lay her hands on about women extracting revenge in a bloody and brutal fashion.
And Charlotte had regressed badly—we thought that we had said goodbye forever to Christopher Plummer and his thighs. But no, she had relapsed with a vengeance, watching The Sound of Music whenever Karen wasn’t filling the screen with images of blood and pain. Men’s blood and pain, if at all possible.
I was tired of living in a house of mourning. I wanted to put on a red dress and go out and party.
But I wasn’t being fair. It was only sheer good fortune that my boyfriend had tired of me sooner than Karen’s or Charlotte’s, which meant that I was a couple of weeks further along the recovery process than they were.
How quickly we forget.
In fact it was only ten days since I had sat sniffing on the couch, the remote control in my hand, and watched the part in Terminator where he says “I travelled through time for you.” Then rewound it and watched it again. Then rewound it and watched it again. Then rewound it and…
It’s scary, the things heartbreak makes us do.
But at least it meant that business was booming for Adrian.
Daniel looked shifty and nervous as he waited in his car by the traffic lights.
