If Harry Met Sally Again

by Annie Robertson

  ‘Then there’s not much more to say, Kid. I gotta say, Nina, I expected more.’

  I hang up the phone and lie prostrate on the sofa. ‘So did I.’

  32

  The week that followed did little to rouse my spirits. Caroline gave me the biggest bollocking of my life when I told her I’d said no to Mike Steinfeldt. It was impossible to tell if she was more gutted at her loss of face or her loss of percentage; whichever, she really wasn’t happy but not quite as unhappy as me. There was no denying the fact that my life was a mess.

  While licking my wounds over the loss of the script, I spent hours on the phone trying to make Mrs Tang understand that it was all a dreadful misunderstanding and that she shouldn’t evict me. But Mrs Tang has selective comprehension of the English language and chose not to understand a word I said.

  As I packed up a lifetime’s crap into a hundred different boxes I agonised over my decision to pull out of finishing the script, and thought often about Ben, the passionless ending he’d be writing, and what he thought about me calling it quits. He kept trying to call and I kept ignoring him, the prospect of someone else telling me how stupid I’d been was more than I could bear.

  To make matters worse I kept stumbling upon things that belonged to Will – an old pair of boxer shorts at the back of my underwear drawer, a can of deodorant shoved at the back of the bathroom cupboard, a copy of Private Eye behind the bed – instead of making me feel angry, they made me feel oddly nostalgic, there was something about them now that was familiar and comforting.

  Towards the end of the week I began the unparalleled misery of transporting my life onto public transport to my parents’ house. If Nora Ephron had written a montage of my life that week it would have looked something like this:

  AUTUMN IN LONDON

  Everywhere you look, autumn leaves, bonfires and kids, wrapped up from the cold, clutching sparklers.

  EXT. BRIXTON MARKET – VEGETABLE STALL – DAY

  Nina buying a pumpkin for the shop window that she can barely manage to carry but she’s going to manage on her own even if it kills her.

  As she arrives at the shop her phone rings. She sees that it’s Ben and cancels the call. She doesn’t want to show it but it’s obvious she’s disappointed when he doesn’t leave a message.

  INT. LOVE BOOKS – DAY

  Nina half-heartedly finishing up a kids’ storytelling session. She’s been reading There Was An Old Lady Who Swallowed a Bat. She goes out back to check her phone. She listens to a message from Ben:

  BEN’S VOICE

  Hi Nina, it’s Ben. Just checking in to see how you’re doing. I spoke to Mike, despite what he said, he’s still keen to have you on board and for us to finish the script together. Don’t let all your hard work be for nothing. Okay. I – (a pause). Bye.

  EXT. PARK – DAY

  Nina is ambling aimlessly, joylessly, kicking the autumn leaves. Her phone rings. She hesitates then answers.

  BEN’S VOICE

  Hi Nina, it’s me.

  NINA

  Hi.

  BEN’S VOICE

  How are you?

  NINA

  What do you want?

  BEN’S VOICE

  I want to know you’re okay.

  NINA

  I’m fine.

  BEN’S VOICE

  Good, so you’re up for meeting, get this ending sorted out?

  NINA

  I’m done with writing.

  BEN’S VOICE

  What, you’re just going to give up on your dream?

  NINA

  Why not? Haven’t you done the same with yours?

  BEN’S VOICE

  (wounded)

  Well, if not to talk about the script, then us.

  NINA

  I don’t want to talk about that either. I’m sorry, Ben. Goodbye.

  Nina hangs up.

  On Thursday night, I sealed the final box, locked the door to the flat, and said goodbye to that chapter of my life. I went home to Mum and Dad with my tail between my legs. Will, the script and Ben all things of my past.

  33

  ‘I’m really not convinced this is a good idea,’ says Astrid, as we check our coats at Dirty Martini in Hanover Square.

  ‘It’s fine,’ I say, trying to discreetly reposition my pants, the elastic of which shot on the tube ride here. ‘We’re both in need of a good night out, the fact that it’s Will’s engagement party is neither here nor there.’

  ‘Right.’ Astrid sounds doubtful. ‘If you’re sure.’

  ‘It’s been a year. I’ve moved on and so has Will, obviously.’

  ‘Sure,’ she says, navigating her way through the gold lamé interior. I’ve never seen her hippy-chic appearance look so incongruous.

  ‘This is so Carmen,’ I say, as we enter the area that they’ve hired for the night. It’s like something out of a Bond movie – gold velvet sofas and red leather chairs bathed in soft light from the huge chandelier. I spot Ed and Verity near the shimmering gold bar.

  ‘Astrid,’ says Verity, air-kissing her. She looks immaculate in a little black empire-line dress. ‘How is Aidan?’

  ‘He’s sorry not to be here; he’s still not quite up to it.’ I can tell she’s putting her best face on things, probably not wanting to betray Aidan by letting on how bad he is.

  ‘Of course,’ says Verity, overly sympathetically. ‘It must be hard.’

  ‘It is.’ Astrid’s voice cracks.

  Verity, uncertain what to say, extends her hand to me.

  ‘And Nina, I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.’

  ‘Why not?’ I say, enjoying playing with her a bit.

  ‘Well, quite,’ she laughs, tightly. ‘Why not indeed! After all, you and Will are old friends.’

  Old friends, I think, adjusting to the sound of it.

  ‘Old friends with a history,’ laughs Ed, kissing us both. ‘Word has it you’ve been hobnobbing with the great and the good of Hollywood.’

  ‘Hardly,’ I say, trying to avoid any chat of writing. The last thing I want is to have to tell everyone that the entire project has gone tits up.

  ‘Don’t be modest,’ says Ed. ‘Ben told us all about it. Seemingly you’re quite the commodity these days.’

  ‘Wait,’ I say, back-tracking, confused by the mention of Ben. ‘How do you know Ben?’

  ‘Verity knows him through Carmen.’ Ed says this as if I should know. ‘He’s one of her clients.’

  Clients? I think, trying to make sense of this information

  ‘Carmen’s an entertainment lawyer,’ says Ed. ‘She represents Ben. Didn’t you know?’

  I shake my head, wondering how I’d missed this. ‘I had no idea.’

  ‘But you met him at our New Year’s party,’ laughs Verity, as if I’m being intentionally ridiculous. ‘You must have realised there was a connection.’

  I don’t say as much but Verity’s right, of course. Why hadn’t I made the connection between his being at their party and him possibly knowing Carmen? I guess I was a bit drunk and reeling from the shock of seeing Will with Carmen.

  ‘Here’s the man now,’ says Ed.

  I turn to see Ben strolling towards us through the growing crowd of partiers. I suddenly feel as if I should have made more of an effort – had my hair done, put on heels an inch or two higher, and chosen a different pair of pants that wouldn’t now be halfway down my backside – because he looks cute, really cute. His hair is short and in no way quiffed, his jeans aren’t so tight that they look like they could do him damage, and the colours he’s wearing are muted and…My God, I think, he looks utterly gorgeous and I, I like an idiot, let him go.

  ‘Ben, old chap,’ says Ed, putting an arm round his shoulder. Ben looks at me softly. I smile a half smile and drink my drink, wondering if he’s in any way pleased to see me. ‘Verity was just saying to Nina how the two of you met at our New Year’s party last year, that Carmen is your agent.’

  ‘It was you!’ he says, watchi
ng me twisting my necklace. ‘I thought as much.’

  I feel my cheeks flush, and hope he won’t be hurt by my little white lie. ‘I did try to tell you in New York.’

  His eyes glint at me in a mischievous, reassuring kind of way. ‘So you did remember me from Ed and Verity’s party when we met at the theatre?’

  I grimace, embarrassed about what he might think of my behaviour. ‘I might have…’

  I’m about to ask him about Carmen when Will arrives. Given it’s his engagement party I can hardly be surprised at him being there – but one way or another it throws me off-guard. He shakes Ed’s hand; Ed introduces him to Ben.

  ‘Carmen’s mentioned you,’ says Will, standoffishly. He kisses Verity and Astrid; I am given a sort of courteous nod, which, I can’t lie, hurts a bit. There’s an awkward moment where everyone realises that almost all the original gang is back together, only Will and I are no more, Aidan is AWOL, and there’s this intruder in the form of Ben.

  ‘Where’s Carmen?’ asks Verity, never one to allow a social awkwardness to linger unnecessarily.

  ‘Stuck at work. She’ll be along soon.’

  ‘Great!’ Ed claps his hands together. ‘What’s everyone drinking?’

  Having taken our orders, Ed and Will head off to the bar. Verity takes Astrid to one side to grill her about Aidan, leaving Ben and me alone.

  ‘It’s good to see you,’ he says, emptying his champagne glass.

  ‘Yes,’ I say, not quite certain what to say.

  ‘I’ve missed you.’

  A little butterfly flits in my tummy. I try to ignore it. ‘What are you doing here, Ben?’

  ‘Carmen invited me along, she mentioned you might come.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me she’s your lawyer?’ I ask, accusingly. I should be focusing on the fact that it sounds as if he wants to see me, that he might want to put out spat behind us, but for some reason it hurts that Ben should have a connection with the person who tore apart my relationship with Will. It feels disloyal to me that he hasn’t mentioned it, just as it felt disloyal him not backing me up in the meeting with Rob.

  ‘I did.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘The first time we met, at Ed and Verity’s New Year’s party.’

  I try to recall him telling me but can’t. But then again, much of that night is a blur, having drunk almost a bottle of champagne on my own.

  ‘How come you’re in London?’

  ‘I’m in town on a job.’

  ‘You’ve moved on to another script already. That didn’t take long.’ I immediately regret my acerbic tone, wishing I could reroute the conversation.

  ‘I haven’t moved on, it’s just another project. I miss working with you.’

  I shrug and bite my lip.

  ‘Come on, Nina. Give me something!’

  ‘I’ve nothing to give,’ I say, though there’s a lump in my throat the size of a toffee apple.

  ‘You know I’d rather write this ending with you than without you.’

  ‘I’m not writing it.’ I shrug. ‘And you don’t have to write it.’

  ‘I can’t drop the job for—’

  ‘For what? For a relationship that doesn’t mean anything to you?’

  He shakes his head. ‘That’s not what I was going to say at all.’

  ‘Oh, perhaps you were going to call my objectivity into question, again!’

  ‘I’m sorry. I—’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’ His eyes look weary. ‘I obviously made a mistake in coming tonight. It’s probably best I leave. Give my best to Carmen.’

  ‘Oh sure, it’s all about Carmen,’ I say, watching him leave, wishing I could take all my stupid words back and tell him how much I miss him too. But before I chase after him, Will is beside me with a mojito.

  ‘Thanks,’ I say, taking the drink.

  ‘Everything okay?’

  ‘Everything’s fine.’ The last thing I need is Will knowing about my failed romance. ‘Congratulations,’ I say, a little forced in my delivery. I raise my glass.

  ‘Sorry I haven’t RSVP’d yet. I’ll do it soon.’

  ‘No rush.’

  ‘Right, but you need to know the numbers so…’

  ‘Well, you say that…’ He has that same heavy look about him as he had when we broke up.

  ‘What?’

  He pauses.

  ‘I’m not sure there’s going to be a wedding.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  He knocks back his drink.

  ‘Carmen isn’t really stuck at work. She’s at home. We had a huge argument. She told me the wedding’s off.’

  ‘Oh shit!’ I say, genuinely dumbfounded. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Didn’t I always say happy endings don’t exist?’ He scoffs at the irony of it all.

  ‘Once upon a time I would have argued the point.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘Things change.’ If the last year has taught me anything, it’s that things definitely change. ‘Anyway, I’m sure Carmen said what she said in the heat of the moment.’

  ‘Maybe. Trouble is, when she said it I felt…’

  I wait for him to finish his sentence but he doesn’t. ‘What?’

  He looks into his empty glass, toying with whether or not to admit to his feelings then finally says, ‘Relief?’

  ‘Oh,’ I say, hoping that I’ve concealed the fact that hearing this pleases me in some way. I wonder if that makes me a dreadful person.

  Will’s eyes fix on me. They are suddenly familiar again, the way they once were, and I remember how much I like them and how their colour always takes me by surprise and draws me in. And I find myself wondering if, after all’s been said and done, after all that’s changed, perhaps we could go back to before. Learn to forgive and forget and all that. ‘Anyway,’ he says, ‘you know how I feel about marriage—’

  ‘It ruins perfectly good relationships.’

  ‘So maybe it’s a blessing in disguise.’

  ‘Maybe,’ I say, trying to fathom it all, no longer certain of anything the way I used to be.

  ‘You want to hear something you’ll find funny?’

  ‘Always,’ I say, as we take a seat on a velvet sofa.

  ‘I think Carmen is cheating on me.’

  ‘That is funny,’ I say, dryly. We are silent for a moment. Both of us, I guess, thinking back to the moment I found him cheating on me.

  ‘I’m really sorry, Nina, for everything.’

  I twist my nose a little, a sort of recognition of how sad it has all become between us, and of how I never wanted that to happen. For all the anger I had, he’s still my old mate, Will. Why wouldn’t I accept his apology?

  ‘I found some of your stuff in the flat last week, when I was clearing it out.’

  ‘You’re moving?’

  ‘Back in with Mum and Dad.’

  ‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘I never meant for any of it to come to this.’

  ‘It’s only Mum and Dad’s!’ I laugh. ‘It’s bad but not that bad.’

  He laughs too. ‘I meant, I never wanted any of this to happen to us.’

  ‘Oh,’ I say, a little perplexed by his comment. ‘Isn’t it kind of funny to be telling me now, here, at your engagement party?’

  His brow crinkles. ‘I’ve been trying to tell you for the past year.’

  ‘You have?’ I pause to think about this. ‘When?’

  ‘New Year’s.’

  I look at him blankly.

  ‘Don’t you remember? When I quoted Harry to you and I told you I wanted to be friends?’

  ‘But you were with Carmen.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘So how was I supposed to know friends meant, friends?’

  ‘Because I knew you knew that I don’t believe men and women can be friends. I figured you’d read between the lines, but you didn’t.’

  ‘Is that why you sent me the Valentine’s card?’

  Will pauses, shakes his h
ead. ‘I didn’t send you a Valentine’s.’

  ‘You didn’t?’

  ‘You know I don’t believe in Valentine’s.’

  ‘Right, but…’ I’m left wondering who did send it to me. If not Will, then who? ‘Anyway, you pretty much laughed at me when we bumped into each other in the park.’

  ‘That was affection, not derision,’ he says, a fondness in his eye.

  ‘Oh,’ I say, considering how I managed to confuse the two. ‘The only other time we’ve spoken this year was when you called to tell me you were marrying Carmen.’

  ‘I know, and what I really wanted you to say was don’t marry her, marry me! But you were off with that Ben guy and becoming some fancy Hollywood writer and you didn’t need me any more. You were out there doing your thing, being happy and successful and, frankly, better without me.’

  It surprises me that I’m more concerned with how Will knows so much about Ben and me, probably because Astrid’s told Verity and she’s told Ed, than just how unimportant it feels now that he saw I was doing great without him. All that effort for nothing.

  ‘Well, you should be happy to know that all of that has fallen flat on its face.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll turn it around, whatever the problem.’

  ‘I wouldn’t bank on it!’ I suck up the last of my mojito with a noisy slurp and do a little fidget to reposition my pants.

  Will laughs at me. ‘I’ve missed your unsophisticated ways.’

  ‘Thanks very much.’ I playfully rub a finger up the side of my nose.

  ‘I was sucked in by Carmen with all her sophistication and glamour. I thought that’s what I wanted, or what I should want. I had no idea sophistication and glamour could be so boring.’

  ‘You live and learn.’ A moment passes between us, something akin to those moments before we first got together when each of us was trying desperately to interpret the other’s feelings. ‘Do you really think she’s cheating on you?’

  ‘I found credit card receipts for a hotel bar back in June that she couldn’t explain. Ever since then I—’

  ‘God, of course!’ I interrupt, the day at the spa coming back to me. ‘I’ve just remembered…’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Were the receipts from the Coburg?’

  ‘How could you possibly know that?’