What If?

by Shari Low

  There’s a bang on the door.

  ‘Cooper, are you in there?’ It’s Jess.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Cooper, come on. You can’t stay in there all night. Okay, so I know it’s a bit claustrophobic in there, a bit crowded with guys who’ve played with your wobbly bits, but you have to come out sometime.’

  ‘I don’t.’

  ‘Yes, you do. C’mon, Carly, you’ve never shied away from anything in your life.’

  Does she have a short memory?

  ‘Yes, I have. I’m a born coward.’

  ‘Look, Carly, just come out. Carol is looking for you for the photographs and if she has to come in here, she’ll take the door off its hinges. Don’t let her down.’

  That does it. Reluctantly, I open the door.

  Jess hands me a brush and a make-up bag. An ice pack and a brown paper bag would have been a better option.

  The first face I see is Doug Cook’s. I swing round to avoid him, but he moves like Road Runner and is in front of me before I can escape.

  ‘I need to talk to you, Carly.’

  ‘Why? Want me to return the knives that you used to stab me in the back?’ Cutting.

  He’s silent for a moment.

  ‘I deserved that. And more. Look, I wanted to say sorry. Me and Callum have sorted stuff out and he was good enough to invite me today. I’d like to sort things with you too. I know it won’t mean much to you, but I really am sorry. I was a complete prick.’

  No arguments there. But then I haven’t exactly treated him well either. What’s the point? What’s the point of staying pissed off with someone for the rest of my life? Especially someone who is my brother’s mate.

  ‘Okay, Doug. Let’s just forget the whole thing; call it quits.’

  He smiles.

  ‘Carly, I’ve been looking for you everywhere,’ says a voice from behind me.

  Sam! I introduce him to Doug. Sam stares at him and then growls in his face. Subtle.

  Doug runs for his life.

  ‘Sam, I need to talk to you.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I love you, but I can’t marry you. You were right; too much has happened. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘I know.’ He nods his head in resignation.

  I look at him in surprise. Has he developed psychic powers?

  ‘I’ll always love you, Carly.’

  I smile and kiss him.

  ‘Tell me,’ he asks, ‘do I still have to pretend to be your boyfriend? Only there’s a rich woman in there who owns some model agency. Says she’s on her own and looking for some company.’

  I choke with laughter. ‘Go for it, Sam. Knock yourself out.’

  There’s a tap on my shoulder.

  Shit, who’s next? Why don’t they just form a fucking queue? If I had any emotions left, they’d be draining out of me and forming a puddle on the floor.

  I turn to face Tom McCallum. Sandwich in one hand and a woman in the other.

  ‘Carly, thanks for inviting me. It’s been great seeing everyone again.’

  I didn’t want to spoil the moment by explaining that I didn’t actually extend the invitation.

  ‘No problem, Tom. I was sorry to hear about your mum and dad.’

  He looks surprised. Join the club.

  ‘How did you hear about them?’

  ‘It’s a long story.’ He clearly didn’t know we’d been to Ireland to look for him then. It was probably just as well. Who’s this?’ I ask, holding out my hand to the female by his side.

  ‘Shit, sorry, this is my wife, Ellen. Ellen, this is Carly Cooper.’

  That explains the weight, good old home cooking.

  She shakes my hand. ‘It’s good to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.’

  Wish I could say the same – I’d have saved myself a bloody fortune.

  ‘It’s good to meet you too. I hope we’ll have a chance to chat later. Right now I have to go and have my photo taken. It’s been great seeing you both.’

  I turn on my heel. I’d rather be having a kidney removed without anaesthetic than subjecting myself to much more of this. I head for the door – apparently the photographs are being taken in the garden outside – but Joe is blocking it.

  ‘Carly, I need to talk to you. Everything’s gone wrong with Claus and you’re the only person who’ll understand.’

  Oh, yes. I am the oracle of all knowledge when it comes to life and relationships.

  ‘What’s wrong, Joe? What’s happened?’

  He tells me that he and Claus are finished. Apparently, due to some temporary aberration of the brain, Joe had allowed himself to be chatted up and taken for a drink by a guy he’d met in the club. Just as he leaned over to kiss the guy goodbye, he got stuck in a headlock and ended up in a full-scale snog. He’s obviously got the same kind of luck as me, because at that very moment Claus walked by and saw him. That night when he got home, the locks had been changed and his clothes were in a wheelie bin. Now he needs a plan to get Claus back and wants my advice and help.

  ‘Joe, I hate to point out the obvious, but there is nobody on the planet with a sadder love life than me. I’ve systematically worked my way around half the men in this room and I’m still bloody single. So no, I’m not going to give you any advice. If I did, you’d probably be doomed to a life of bitter loneliness, but I am here if you need a shoulder to cry on.’

  May as well make the offer. By the looks of things, it’s the closest I’m ever going to get to physical intimacy for the rest of my life.

  He leans over to give me a hug. Over his shoulder, I can see Callum waving frantically at me. The photographer must be getting impatient. I’m just about to extricate myself when I see a taxi thundering up the driveway. Oh no. Who is it now? It can’t be any of my guys – they’re all inside stuffing their faces with vol-au-vents and chipolatas.

  It halts and the passenger flies out. I let go of Joe and turn him round. The look on his face as he sees Claus running towards him is almost enough to make me smile. Bearing in mind the day I’ve had, that’s right up there with raising the dead.

  I pose for an hour with a benign smile on my face while an assortment of guests are dragged out of the hotel and placed around us. There can’t be anyone left to snap – I’m sure that last lot were the maintenance staff.

  ‘Right, I want a photo of just me and the girls,’ Carol announces.

  The rest of the crowd stands to one side as Carol, Jess, Sarah and I try to squeeze into the frame with Kate and her bump.

  ‘Okay, my lovely ladies, say cheese,’ the photographer shouts.

  ‘Urgh, he’s smarmy,’ Jess whispers and the five of us scream with laughter.

  I want to frame this one and put it on my wall. That is, if I ever have a wall again.

  ‘Okay, now I want one with the girls and their partners.’

  Bollocks! What do I do? Why can’t he have said ‘past partners’, then I’d have a multiple choice.

  Kate reaches for Bruce and Jess grabs Basil. I think she just wants photographic evidence of their affair. The tabloids will pay a fortune for that.

  Never mind, Sarah doesn’t have a partner either, so she can be mine. I look around for her. Where has she gone? Then I spot her – heading back to the hotel with Nick Russo.

  ‘Kate,’ I whisper, pointing in their direction, ‘What’s Sarah doing with Nick?’

  ‘Oh shit, I forgot to tell you. They’re engaged. They’ve been seeing each other since you left St Andrews. He proposed to her last night on a boat out on the loch. It was so romantic.’

  Great. Bloody, sodding, pissing great.

  There’s nothing else for it. I run into the hotel and grab Sam, much to the annoyance of the middle-aged, overdone, over-jewelled woman he’s nestled in the corner with.

  ‘Sam, I need you to perform one last task in your capacity as my fake fiancé.’

  I frogmarch him outside and we grin for the camera. Another crisis averted.

  Raindrops start to fall, s
o we all rush back inside for cover. I can’t take much more of this. I want to go home. Slight problem. I wouldn’t know where to go. Where is the nearest homeless shelter?

  My mum appears from nowhere, startling me. ‘Carly, darling, you look terrible.’

  ‘Hi Mum, nice to see you too.’

  ‘Where’s that lovely boyfriend of yours? I was sitting next to him during the service. He was charming, darling.’

  ‘He’s not my boyfriend any more, Mum.’

  ‘My goodness, that was over quick. Mind you, I’m not surprised; you never seem to hang on to anyone for very long, do you, dear?’

  That’s it! My nerves snap and I ceremoniously and very publicly lose control of any sense of dignity I ever had.

  ‘He is not my boyfriend now, Mum, because he’s an escort whom I asked to come with me today and pretend to be my boyfriend so that I wouldn’t have to explain to people like you why I’m thirty, single, unemployed, homeless…’ I can’t stop. I’m a runaway train doing a hundred miles an hour and heading for a brick wall ‘… And so far into debt that I’m fucking drowning. It’s not a man I need, Mum, it’s a good lawyer and legal bloody aid.’

  The whole room is now silent; two hundred open mouths in the middle of two hundred startled faces, all staring at me.

  I turn and rush back outside, running through the rain until I can’t run any more. I slump down on the banks of the loch and put my head in my hands. I sob until I can’t even remember which part of my disaster of a life I’m crying about. How could I have been so stupid? What possessed me to gamble with everything I ever had? I should have played it safe, bided my time and just waited for things to happen. How could I honestly have believed that I could go charging around the world, meet Mr Right and live happily ever after? I’m a fool. A sad, pathetic fool.

  ‘I hear you need the services of a good lawyer.’

  A sad, pathetic fool who’s now hearing voices in her head. At least now I can plead insanity in the bankruptcy courts.

  ‘Thought maybe I’d offer my services.’

  My head snaps up. I recognise that voice!

  ‘Mark?’

  Mark Barwick is leaning against a tree five feet behind me, a smile on his face, his wavy brown hair still flopping into his eyes, his underpants still on over his trousers. I might be making that last bit up.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ I stammer. ‘I didn’t see you inside.’

  ‘I’m Callum’s lawyer. We’ve kept in touch since school. I couldn’t make it earlier because I was wrapping up a big case. I just arrived in time to hear your farewell speech. Quite a story.’

  I close my eyes. Mark. First love, first fumble, first naked breast Mark. Slept with him behind Doug’s back, Mark. Don’t tell me he’s come out here to gloat.

  ‘Yeah, well you’ve had your laughs now.’

  ‘It’s not laughs I was looking for.’

  I hear him approach me. He reaches down and takes my hands, pulling me up to face him.

  ‘Although, I’d take that as part of the package.’

  He kisses me. Slowly, gently. Oh my God, I’d forgotten how good he was at that.

  Suddenly, I pull back.

  ‘Mark, I need to ask you something first.’

  ‘What?’ he replies, puzzled.

  ‘Are you married or gay? Have you ever been prone to psychotic acts of vengeance? And have you ever been paid for sex?’

  He throws his head back and roars with laughter. He eventually composes himself enough to speak.

  ‘Not that I know of.’

  I smile and curl my fingers through his hair.

  ‘Good. Permission to proceed granted.’

  I almost got another snog. Almost.

  ‘CARLY!!!!’ It’s a hysterical Sarah.

  ‘Over here,’ I yell.

  She runs towards us, gasping for breath.

  ‘It’s Kate. Her waters have broken and they’ve called an ambulance. She’s screaming for you; wants you to go with her.’

  Panic! ‘I have to go, it’s an emergency!’ I say as I kiss Mark, then start to run after Sarah.

  I’m ten feet away when he shouts, ‘Cooper, is your life always like this – one drama after another?’

  ‘Always,’ I reply, grinning.

  ‘Well, I suppose I’d better get used to it, then.’

  And as I watch him laugh and shake his head, I think…

  What if… there’s a happy ending after all?

  Epilogue

  One year later

  I’ve been Mrs Barwick for six months now. Mark always jokes about two things: one is that he’s spent his life saving my ass and the other is that he always had money in the bank until he met me. His wedding present to me was to pay off my credit cards, much to the relief of the financial institutions involved. My present to him was to throw three packets of contraceptive pills, two diaphragms and a family size box of condoms (you can never be too careful) down the loo and start trying for his much-wanted brood. Unfortunately, my contraceptive armoury wasn’t biodegradable; we kept our local plumber in business for a week. We decided to settle in London and he transferred to his company’s office here. I don’t want to be nauseatingly sentimental, but God, I love him. He’s everything. We fit perfectly and I still can’t believe that the right guy for me was there all along, and I didn’t see it.

  Our future kids will have two gorgeous cousins to play with as Carol and Callum are expecting twins next month. Carol is delighted about it now, but it took her six months to get over the shock of losing her figure. She’s covered up every mirror in the house. They can’t decide on names for the babies. We suggested ‘American’ and ‘Express’; at least then she’ll bond with them immediately.

  Michael finally danced with Kate’s sister, Karen, at the wedding and they’ve been together ever since. Or so we think. They went into Michael’s bedroom twelve months ago and they’ve yet to come out.

  Sarah and Nick also got married this year. Sarah is still studying and hopes to be a qualified teacher by next summer. Nick treats her like a princess. They were made for each other.

  Basil is a thing of the past. Jess tipped an ice bucket over him at Kate’s millennium party and he was last seen heading back to his wife, his tail firmly between his legs. We read in the papers the next week that she’d rejected him, though. Seems she’s shacked up in Brisbane with the French rugby player; she told the Sun that she’d never realised what a real orgasm could feel like. Jess is now awash with passion for the very journalist who exposed her affair to the nation. It brings a whole new meaning to having press contacts.

  My mum and dad are talking about reconciling. My mum has ditched Ivan and my dad’s on some twelve step recovery process, having finally admitted that he drinks too much. Trouble is, he can’t seem to get past the step where he has to walk by a pub without entering it. Mum is ever hopeful though. In some crazy way, I think she missed having someone to nag.

  We see a lot of Joe and Claus. They decided to make ‘J.C.’s Heaven’ an international chain and opened their second one in London last month. Claus now doesn’t let Joe out of his sight. I don’t think Joe minds.

  Phil and Lily came to the opening too, as did Tom and Ellen. They all stayed at our house for a week and I was sad to see them go. Still, we’ll see them again at American and Express’s christening. Carol couldn’t decide who to pick as godparents, so they’ve ended up with twelve. It’ll be like the Last Supper at the top table.

  Doug Cook won’t be there. He’s gone into hibernation since Saskia left him. She was ‘spotted’ by a film producer who was on one of her flights and she’s now in LA, testing for Baywatch.

  She’ll probably meet Sam there. He’s been signed up to play the lead role in the movie based on his screenplay, The Gigolo. I believe he did all his own research for the part.

  And Kate? Well, Kate’s been fired from her job for threatening a diva client with a hot-brush. It’s probably for the best. Since Bruce won the award of �
��UK Architect of the Year’, she’s been frantically busy moving house, hiring nannies and cleaners, shopping and socialising. Now she’s the one having her hair done every week. We live next door to each other now so we see each other every day. Bruce and Mark joke that we should get a bridge built between the two houses to save us from getting wet when it rains. We took their idea literally – the builders are coming to give us a quote tomorrow.

  I sometimes wonder if I made a mistake by chasing my rainbow, but I know I didn’t. I’ve found everything I ever wanted. From now on, there’ll be no more ‘what ifs…?’ No more uncertainty. We’ve all got life sussed out.

  ‘Sometimes I can’t believe we all managed to settle down and sort out our lives,’ Kate says one Sunday morning as we sit around her kitchen table eating brunch. ‘Especially you, Cooper,’ she adds, to the amusement of the others.

  ‘I know. It’s miraculous,’ I tell her, breaking off a chunk of cinnamon bagel from the pile on the plate in front of me. ‘We’re like fully formed grown-ups.’

  ‘You know what I was thinking about the other day though?’ Carol asks, then waits for an answer, as if we could genuinely read her thoughts. Eventually she realises that no one is going to take a guess and she carries on. ‘What will we all be like when we’re fifty? Because you know what they say, with age comes maturity. And bunions, but we can get them lasered off.’

  There were giggles and groans all round.

  ‘I reckon we’ll be drama-free and enjoying quiet, peaceful lives,’ Jess offers.

  ‘Really?’ asks Sarah, one eyebrow raised in cynicism, and I catch her glancing at me.

  ‘I agree with Jess,’ I say indignantly. ‘Look, I’ve already had enough dramas and disasters to last a lifetime. There’s no way I’m messing up my life again.’

  The others nod in agreement and I sit back, satisfied, happy and positive that from now on I’m in for a smooth ride.

  But what if… what if I couldn’t be more wrong?