Carl would have been proud.
I stared open-mouthed, dimly aware of how ridiculous this all was. A man had just hit another man, defending me. I was like Maid Marian or Guinevere.
Nick stood looming over Jonny, almost daring him to get up and attempt a counter-blow. ‘I leaked it.’
‘What?’ The word was on my lips too, but Jonny had beaten me to it.
‘I leaked it,’ said Nick, again. He wasn’t even out of breath, but mine was coming out in raggedy gasps. Nick had leaked Jonny’s defection from Hands Down?
‘You fucking shit!’ Jonny screamed. ‘You’re so fucking fired!’
Jonny was probably trying to intimidate Nick, but from his prone position he looked ridiculous, especially since his nose was looking mighty red and both his cheeks were swelling. He looked like an angry hamster.
From somewhere to my left, two enormous blokes rumbled towards us. Jonny’s expression changed from fury to satisfaction as the two men, in low-slung jeans, pristine white trainers and a lot of gold jewellery, approached. They were Jonny’s minders; I recognised them from the London Eye. Without saying a word, they flanked Nick, grabbing him by the armpits and without breaking stride, started dragging him towards the exit.
The whole place stopped and stared. This was so not fun anymore. What were they going to do once they got him outside? This wasn’t right. And it was my fault.
I followed them, but they moved at a fair old clip, and I only caught up when they were through the huge revolving door and outside. These bloody shoes – not to mention my dress – were not designed for sprinting.
My concerns were justified. As I pushed through the door, I saw Tweedle Dum hold Nick upright while Tweedle Dee socked him in the gut. Nick doubled over, but made no sound – unlike the whimper Jonny had emitted.
‘Hey, leave him alone!’ I shouted.
The one who’d punched him whispered something to Nick, then they loosened their grip on him and he dropped to his knees, winded. With blank stares in my direction, they sloped past me.
I rushed to Nick’s side and knelt beside him.
‘Are you okay?’
He nodded.
‘Are you sure? That guy hit you pretty hard.’
‘I deserved it.’
‘Jonny should have hit you himself, not rely on his goon squad.’
‘They apologised afterwards.’
‘How civilised.’
He grinned, but it quickly morphed into a grimace. ‘My ribs are really going to hurt tomorrow.’
‘Well, at least they didn’t hit you in the face,’ I said. ‘Jonny’s going to have a corker of a black eye.’
‘I should have done that a long time ago.’
‘Is it true what you said, or were you just winding Jonny up? Did you leak that story?’
He nodded.
I shivered. ‘Why?’
Nick leant forward, trying to slip his jacket off, swearing under his breath.
‘What are you doing?’
‘You’re cold,’ he said, like that explained everything. ‘I’m giving you my jacket.’
‘Can you just answer the question? Leaking that story – that would have cost you your job with Hands Down. And after Marcie, it’s like you’re self-destructing.’
‘I did it for you.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Those pictures you rang me about. They were of Lucy and Jonny. I begged the picture editor at The Post not to run them. But they wanted another story in return.’
‘Why would you do that?’
‘It’s like you said, Lucy’s life would get turned upside down if the tabloids found out she’d come between Jonny and Jeanette. The world’s press would be on her doorstep, never mind the bile she’d get from the fans.’
‘That’s noble of you, Nick, but why risk your job for Lucy, someone you barely know?’
‘I did it for you, Zoë.’
I frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I saw how protective you are of everyone at the magazine. You treat them like family. If one of them hurts, you hurt. You’re loyal, courageous and honourable, and I’ve never met anyone like you.’
Where was this coming from?
He saw my confused look and shook his head wryly. ‘For a smart woman, you’re being a bit slow.’ He looked away briefly, then back to me. ‘I love you, Zoë. I love everything about you.’
28
Love Is For Suckers
For a moment, I couldn’t speak. Had I heard him right?
‘I don’t know what to say.’ Stating the obvious, a bit. I tried again. ‘I’m very flattered, of course.’
His face fell and a tiny piece of my heart cracked. Flattered was a stupid choice of word. I was an idiot. I wasn’t flattered; it was more than that, but I couldn’t quite pinpoint what.
He was looking at me without expectation, but I couldn’t find the right words. His declaration was so unexpected that I didn’t trust myself to spew out any more immediate reactions.
Loyal, courageous, honourable – had he really said all those things about me?
‘Thank you,’ I said. Because I meant it, but even those two words were inadequate.
‘Zoë, I—’
Before I could speak again, Gavin and Lucy were rushing over.
‘Oh my God,’ cried Lucy. ‘That was kinda awesome. Jonny is such a prick.’
Even Gav looked impressed. ‘The little fucker deserved it,’ he said, quietly. Lucy didn’t react, but maybe she hadn’t heard him.
Nick stood up slowly and I positioned myself by his side in case he needed support.
‘Where did Jonny go?’ I asked. If he dared come near us, I’d hit him myself. I felt like a lioness, protective not only of my team, but of Nick too. I didn’t want to analyse this feeling too closely.
‘Not the best career move for you, Nick,’ said Lucy, tactlessly.
‘I knew I’d get fired over the leak. Getting to punch him was a bonus.’
‘Why did you do it, then? The leak, I mean?’
Nick glanced at me and I held my breath.
‘I thought it was the best strategy for his solo career. The coverage is going to be unbelievable.’
Gav nodded wisely. ‘Makes sense. Although I’d rather see Delaney fall flat on his face.’
‘I’ve been a bit of a fool,’ said Lucy. ‘That’s why I’m going to get well and truly hammered tonight.’
‘It’s nearly midnight,’ I said.
‘Exactly. The night is young,’ she announced. ‘A bunch of us are going to Old Street. Want to come?’
‘I think I’ll pass.’
‘What about you, Nick?’ said Gavin. He looked at me as if it was my decision.
‘No, I think I’m all partied out tonight.’
Gav and Lucy left, looking relieved, leaving me with alone with Nick. How many times had I stood this close to him and not thought twice about it? Now, I didn’t know what to think, other than trying to stop myself from shivering. But I wasn’t cold.
Nick assumed I was, because he put one arm around me. But then he wrapped his other arm round me too, until I was cocooned in his embrace. Our foreheads were centimetres apart.
‘You’re all I think about,’ he whispered. ‘I’ve gone half mad these last few days thinking you hated me.’
‘I don’t hate you, Nick.’
My nerve-endings were on fire. The nearness of him, the warmth of his jacket, his scent, all of it was making me light-headed.
My hips shifted forward, of their own accord. The length of his body was pressed against mine. His hands were curled around my waist, and my own arms were nestled into his sides.
I breathed him in, overcome by a peace I hadn’t felt for a long time.
But then a buzzing sounded from my bag.
It snapped me back to reality. I needed some air; to hit pause and think.
I took a step back. ‘Sorry, I need to check who’s ringing . . .’ It sounded lame, I knew, but I ne
eded to break eye contact with Nick. I pulled the phone from my bag: the caller ID said Simon. Why was he ringing now after days of silence?
A feeling of unease muscled out my earlier serenity. I swiped my finger to accept the call. ‘Simon?’
‘Zoë, thank God. It’s Jess.’ She sounded tense and I immediately held my breath.
‘Is everything okay?’
‘It’s Simon,’ she said. ‘An ambulance came. He’s in hospital. He wasn’t breathing.’
Panic squeezed my throat. ‘What happened? Is he breathing now? He’s not . . .’ I couldn’t finish the question.
‘He’s stable, but unconscious. I thought you should know. I don’t do hospitals. Maybe you could go and check on him.’
‘Jess, which hospital?’
Nick had been biting his lip, but now he frowned in concern.
‘That one in Paddington.’
‘St Mary’s?’
‘Possibly.’
‘Had you guys been drinking?’
‘Hmm?’ Jess sounded distracted.
‘Did Simon take something? Were there drugs involved?’
‘You’re a sweetheart, Zoë. I have to go now.’
She rang off, ignoring my question.
‘Fuck.’
‘What’s happened?’ said Nick.
The embrace we’d shared felt like a lifetime ago. ‘It’s Simon. Sounds like an OD, or something.’ My breathing was shallow, barely enough to push the words out. ‘He’s at A&E in Paddington – as far as I can make out. Jess wasn’t clear.’
I tried to focus. Yes, St Mary’s – that’s what she’d said.
Nick’s eyes were full of concern. ‘Is he okay?’
‘I don’t know. I need to get to him.’
‘Of course. Let me take you.’
‘No, no.’ I was already scrolling through my phone looking for my Uber app. ‘It’s okay. You need to go and rest your ribs.’ I was prattling. I just wanted to know Simon was okay. The idea of him not being in the world was filling me with ice-cold fear.
I needed to get to him.
*
In the end, I chanced on a black cab and because traffic was so light, we crossed the park from South Kensington to Marble Arch without stopping once. Minutes later I was being dropped off outside casualty at St Mary’s in Paddington.
Ordinarily, I would have felt a fool hauling arse in a ball gown down a lino-lined hospital corridor, but I didn’t care how ridiculous I looked.
After a breathless conversation at reception, I found out that Simon had been taken to a private room, that he was resting, but that I could visit for a few minutes. It took me a while to find the private wing and then Simon’s room.
I paused at the door before entering. What would I find inside?
Simon looked asleep; his chest was rising and falling rhythmically. He looked paler than usual, but otherwise okay. I crept towards him, scared to wake him, but also scared that he might never wake. No one had told me anything about his prognosis – would he have long-term effects?
A wooden chair with a padded seat was backed up against the wall, under the TV. I picked it up and placed it close to the bed, so I could see him properly. Was I his first visitor?
I sat down, arranging the folds of my dress onto the chair.
‘Si?’
He didn’t stir, but then, I’d barely whispered.
I reached to touch his hand. It was cool but clammy.
I cleared my throat and tried again. ‘Simon?’
I squeezed his hand and his eyes fluttered open.
The relief was overwhelming. If I hadn’t been sitting, my knees would have buckled.
It took him a moment to see me, but then he parted his cracked lips and smiled.
‘Frixie.’ His voice was a coarse whisper. ‘You came.’
‘Of course I came, Si.’
He looked down at my ball gown. ‘Nice dress.’
‘Thought I’d make the effort.’
‘You look great.’
‘You look bloody awful.’ I laughed nervously.
He smiled wanly. ‘I’ve been a fool.’
‘What happened, Si?’
‘They pumped my stomach.’ He winced. ‘Not fun.’
‘How did you get into such a state?’
‘I don’t remember much. A few beers, some wine and then Jess suggested some pills. They asked me when I got here, but I didn’t know what they were. How fucking stupid did I feel?’
‘Don’t think about it. The only thing that matters is that you’re okay now.’
‘Don’t pity me, Frixie, I couldn’t bear it. They even sent a shrink who asked if I was depressed and had OD’d on purpose.’
He started to cough. I got up and poured him some water from a jug by the side of his bed.
He sipped the water until the coughs subsided.
‘I felt too ashamed to tell the shrink I was just trying to keep up with Jess – to impress her – although God knows why. She’s crazy. Why has it taken me so long to figure that out?’
‘Is that a rhetorical question?’
‘I’m genuinely stumped.’
‘It’s not rocket science. You were besotted. From the moment you met her. It happens to the best of us.’
‘But you’ve been here for me all along. Why couldn’t I see what was right in front of me?’
Another rhetorical question, but this time I didn’t trust myself to answer him.
He shuffled upright so he was almost sitting. ‘You’re wonderful, Frixie. Do you know that?’
‘You’re not so bad yourself.’
‘I’m being serious, Zoë. I realise now what I should have realised years ago. I love you. I love you.’
I couldn’t breathe. Was it the drugs talking?
‘I’m not sure you’re quite yourself right now.’
He sat further upright and grasped my hand with both of his. ‘Is there still a chance for us?’
A nurse bustled in before I could reply.
‘Back in bed, Mr Baxter. No exerting yourself.’
‘I’m not exerting myself,’ he told her. ‘I’m in love.’
I blushed as red as my dress.
‘Well, congratulations,’ she said, looking from him to me. ‘You make a lovely couple.’ I pulled at a stray thread on the seam of my dress while she took his pulse. She tutted and I looked up. ‘Still a bit weak. Probably better if you got some rest, Mr Baxter. You’ll have lots of time to see your girlfriend when you’re released tomorrow morning.’
Simon looked at me expectantly.
I nodded. ‘Of course. Rest now and I’ll see you tomorrow.’ I left before he asked me to answer his other question.
*
I got a black cab and was home just after 2 a.m. I slipped off my heels and wandered into my kitchen feeling dazed.
What an evening. Was I losing my grip on reality or had two men actually declared their feelings for me? Honestly, it was like waiting for a bloody bus.
Nick’s declaration felt like a week ago, or like something from a dream.
Guilt niggled me. I shouldn’t have walked out on him like that. It was too late to ring him to apologise, but should I send a text? I found my phone and scrolled to his number.
My thumb hovered over his name. What on earth would I say? I’d sleep on it. Maybe the right words would come to me tomorrow.
I got undressed and threw on the old oversized T-shirt I slept in. I padded to the bathroom and attacked my make-up with cotton wool and make-up remover.
Why was I thinking about Nick?
After all these years, Simon had finally told me what I’d so longed to hear. Surely that should have been uppermost on my mind.
So why wasn’t it?
Maybe it was because even though he’d said all the right words, I still felt like his second choice. And for all of Simon’s protestations about learning from his divorce, he’d dived headlong into a relationship with Jess, after kissing me but then acting like it had never hap
pened. And only when things had gone sour with Jess had he suddenly remembered me. Those were the actions of someone acting out of fear, not love. Was Simon one of those people who didn’t feel right in their skin unless they were in a relationship?
At the other extreme, Nick had admitted that he avoided relationships. Was a commitment-phobe any better?
Maybe neither of them was right for me. Maybe I needed to wait for the next bus. Or rely on my own steam.
I was up the next morning at eight. I was tired, but sleep had slipped from my grasp all night. Groggily, I carried out my usual routine, only noticing after I’d showered and dressed that I had a voicemail from Nick.
I stared at the screen. Did I want to hear it? He’d left it at six in the morning – timed for when he knew it would go straight to voicemail.
Sod it.
I hit play.
His voice sounded raspy and low, like he hadn’t slept for a week, reminding me of Marcie’s cigarette-abused voice.
‘I hope you’re okay and that Simon is on the mend. I got hold of Jess last night, who told me what happened. It sounded like they got him to hospital in time and that he should make a full recovery. I’m sorry you had such a fright.’
A pause.
‘I guess you won’t be surprised to hear that I’ve been relieved of my duties at Pinnacle. I’ve got a few contacts in South America who’ll still hire me, so I’m heading back.’
Another pause.
‘Take care of yourself, Zoë.’
There was no mention of The Conversation.
Maybe he didn’t mention it because he regretted it. Maybe his feelings had been tainted by wine and the romance of the venue. Maybe this morning he was congratulating himself on escaping. For a second, I wished he wasn’t leaving and that we could carry on as friends. But we couldn’t carry on as normal, pretending he hadn’t said what he’d said. And anyway, would Nick want that?
*
I had taken the morning off work as I was meeting Alice for the final fitting of her dress and mine. On the way to the wedding-dress shop, I had a text from Simon:
Wanna hang tonight, Frixie? We could do a Marvel marathon on Netflix?
Was he implying we Netflix and ‘chill’ or did he actually want to watch The Avengers? I didn’t know how to reply, so very maturely, I didn’t respond at all. I turned my phone off, then hurried to make my appointment.
Love Songs for Sceptics Page 28