Dear Anybody

by Rosa Temple

  I smile to Beth who gets up and wriggles through to my end of the table.

  ‘I’m getting the next round, Sydney. Another wine?’

  ‘No, thanks, Beth. Carey and I are doing our thing.’

  ‘If you’re sure.’

  I watch as Beth makes her way to the bar. She is so timid but manages to find a spot right next to Damian. He stands and allows her through. They begin a conversation. They are both all smiles and I’m imagining what Damian could be saying to her about her boss. All of a sudden Jed gets up and leaves. I doubt he even said goodbye to his brother. I follow his tall figure as he masterfully glides his way out of the pub. The door opens to an inky sky with a half moon in the distance. People by the door shiver reminding me of how cold it is outside and that Carey and I should book Alistair before the rush. He is the only taxi around here after all. When the door closes, I retrace Jed’s exit route back to the bar. I look for Damian because now it dawns on me that with Mr Misery Guts gone, I can make my move. But there is no sign of Damian.

  That’s just typical of my luck. He’s gone. I’m hoping it’s only to the loo but there is a side door in the far corner that also leads to the street. I keep looking at it. It opens to let a young couple in but no Damian. Neither does he emerge from out of the crowd by magic. Even Beth is nowhere to be seen in this busy place. The more I keep craning my neck the more likely I am to get whiplash so I try to relax a bit.

  ‘Everything all right?’ Carey asks after coming back to sit next to me from a conversation with Mags and Jenna.

  ‘Everything is fine,’ I say. But it isn’t. Where is Damian?

  Just then Bartie calls out, ‘Where are these drinks then?’

  That’s a point. Beth is still AWOL.

  ‘Here she is,’ Jenna says and stands to help Beth place a tray of drinks onto a table already bubbling over with empty beer and wine glasses. Someone says to Beth, you took your time and I look around for Damian again. He is definitely not here. Must have gone out the side door.

  When my name is announced, I can’t help but steal a quick glance around to see if either Gallagher brother has returned. By now the little pub is completely packed and has gone from standing room only to Health and Safety overcrowded and I can’t see as far as the bar. Typical I should make my karaoke début to the entire village of Bridley. I try to stay cool as I make my way through to the stage.

  My song is Sam Smith’s, I’m Not The Only One. It’s a song I’ve always liked in the past and have sung in the shower a million times. But it isn’t until I get to the first chorus that it dawns on me what I’m singing about and how distinctly the lyrics relate to my life. For crying out loud, it’s about a guy whose girlfriend is cheating on him. By the time I’m at the middle eight and singing at the top of my voice that my lover has been ‘lying and tearing us up,’ I realise that no one in the pub is chatting. They are all stock still and looking right at me. In that spilt second I start to hear my voice. It’s cracking and choking and the warmth of my tears are bathing my cheeks. But I can’t stop singing, even through my tears. The whole pub seems to be leaning towards the stage as if being pulled by an invisible rope in my direction. Not only are they enthralled by my performance they are joining in with the final choruses. They are as moved as I am which makes me cry even more and I can’t hold it together on the last line. The crowd help me with it and before I go to hand the microphone back, I choke a thank you at them all. The Crown is now on its feet, clapping and cheering and calling ‘Encore’. Jenna has rushed to the small stage.

  ‘Sydney, you are the best performer we’ve ever had. How you put your heart and soul into that number I don’t know.’

  As Jenna and I make our way back to the table, I get pats on the back and a few Well Done Love’s. They have no idea what I just went through on that stage and no idea how much truth lies in the lyrics of that song. My table of friends are saying how well I did. I know it’s not because I’m a great singer, of course, but because of how I performed. I wasn’t crying for dramatic effect, I was crying because my heart still breaks. Even now. Even when I know it’s over for me and Rob. Even when I know it’s over for me and Helena. Even when I know there is a man out there who really likes me and wants to go out with me.

  I pick up my wine glass. The next person is up on the stage. A girl with dark, wavy hair and ripped jeans.

  ‘How do I top that?’ she says in a broad accent and the crowd laughs. Someone shouts out, ‘You can do it, love,’ and the music begins.

  Meanwhile Carey hasn’t taken her eyes off me.

  ‘What?’ I ask her.

  ‘You,’ she says. I shrug my shoulders. ‘I know. It’s the song isn’t it?’ I shrug again. ‘And the brother. Don’t worry. I think you just did a Cameron Diaz on him. I think everyone will want to go out with you after that. You’ll be the talk of Bridley by morning.’

  Carey is taking this lightly, maybe she just wants to cheer me up because I can’t shift the miserable mood that has taken hold of me. I say nothing about the fact that The Brother, as she calls him, did a disappearing act on me.

  ‘Sydney, tell me you’re all right.’ Carey says, more seriously.

  ‘Of course I am,’ I say. ‘But I think I’d like to go home.’

  ‘Fine by me. I’ve been in a panic all night about having to sing.’ She drains the last of her wine and starts sending a text, presumably to Alistair.

  Carey gets us both a malt whiskey. ‘For the cold,’ she says. We drink it in the time it takes for Alistair to arrive but I’m not enjoying the whiskey even though it has the desired warming effect. Alistair pops his head, red cheeks and all, around the door and waves with his hat.

  I leave the rest of the team in a beer-fuelled frenzy of fun and excitement. In many ways I’d like to stay but with Damian gone, not having said anything about us going out together, I’m totally thrown.

  Alistair’s Jeep smells of air freshener spray. It causes a wink from Carey who puts her arm around my shoulder when I don’t smile back. She senses my sadness and disappointment.

  Disappointed. That’s what I am. I’ve done all I can do to bag Damian. The rest is up to him now.

  Chapter 27

  My pink notebook is full of scribbles; observations, ideas and conversations relating to my time in Bridley so far. It isn’t the great novel I’ve always wanted to write but I’ve been scribbling away since Carey’s dinner party. I’m beginning to realise I will never write a novel. I don’t think I’ve got what it takes. My scribbles are hardly inspirational and so far I still haven’t come up with an original idea for a book.

  I flick through as I sit in a coffee shop on the edge of the village green, opposite Damian’s Coffee House, called Daisy’s. It’s a Saturday afternoon and Daisy’s is very quiet in comparison to the hubbub of goings on across the green. Daisy’s is smaller than Damian’s and smells a little like vinegar and bleach. So unlike the comforting smell of pastries and bread I’ve come to know and love so well. You only have to walk past Damian’s to be drawn inside. Since Karaoke Night a few weeks ago, I’ve not gone into Damian’s. I decided enough was enough. I’d done everything humanly possible to get Damian to ask me out on a date or for me to find an opportunity to ask him. Everything short of going into his coffee shop, getting my boobs out and resting them on the counter saying, ‘How about these for a couple of tasty treats?’ Even then he might just turn around and say the only treats served in this establishment are the home-made kind. I couldn’t take that kind of rejection. I’m far too fragile. Maybe Damian has rejected the idea of asking me out. Maybe that ship has sailed. What if he did re-appear at Karaoke Night without me seeing him and it was my terrible singing that put him off and he hasn’t seen My Best Friend’s Wedding?

  Instead, I decide to observe him from afar. Well from across the green at Daisy’s where I can follow all the goings on. If he has moved on to pastures new, I’ll see from here. I can see both brothers today. Damian and Jed. They are busy serving and
chatting to customers. Their psychopathic mother is nowhere to be seen. Jed smiles once in a while to customers. Surprisingly he has a nice smile, it almost makes him look human. Kind even.

  I think again about the idea of going out with Damian and it still seems plausible. He might just be extremely busy with work. I did overhear someone from the office saying that the menu has changed a great deal. I had wanted to target Damian as the first featured business owner for the cover of Bridley Green but decided instead to go for Frankie’s. They have a great Christmas menu planned and are hiring a musician to play in a corner over the Christmas period. Andy the chef was only too happy to get a front page photo and double page write up and Carey agreed to do the photography even though the magazine’s budget didn’t come close to her usual fee.

  I pick up my pen and decide to write a list of pros and cons for Damian. I look over at the coffee shop and catch sight of Jed and decide to make a list for him, too. It’ll probably be a very one-sided list.

  I have written about a page, my coffee has gone cold and Daisy is staring at me over the top of her Hello magazine. I smile at her then look down at my list. In the Cons list for Jed I have written Arsehole in big letters. Big enough to award him several ‘Bad Boy’ points over his brother, even though it’s only one word. I start to wonder if the man I should be dating ought to be a bad boy. Rob, when I met him, was everything a ‘Good Boy’ should be. I never hesitated bringing him home to meet my parents. I knew he wouldn’t put his feet up on the coffee table or light up a spliff after the Sunday roast as a couple of my former boyfriends had done. Rob had been my first, proper boyfriend and good boy and look what he’d done. Perhaps I was getting this backwards. If I was after a man to help me move on from Rob then maybe it should be someone like Jed. I add: He is not like Rob to Jed’s Pro list and put down my pen.

  Daisy, or at least I assume she is Daisy, brings me my second pot of coffee. As I look at her thin, tattooed wrist I think about my ex-best friend, Helena, and her tattoo. A little dove on the inside of her wrist. Immediately thoughts of driving back to London to confront her and give her a piece of my mind flood in. It was what Carey had advised me to do. Not the give her a piece of my mind part, but just to confront her for closure. To help me move on. But the thought gets me all of a quiver and imagining all kinds of scenarios of me spilling the beans in front of her fiancé and him cancelling their wedding. It’s a terrible thought, I know. She had gone away straight after I caught her in bed with Rob. A long, one-month holiday she’d planned with her fiancé, Leon. She is well and truly back and she hasn’t been in touch at all. Now I can’t get thoughts of sabotaging her wedding out of my mind. Maybe all the caffeine is affecting me and I should just go home. Stop spying on Damian. Stop plotting Helena’s demise. I notice my hands are shaking.

  ‘I thought that was you.’

  I jump when I notice there is a tall dark figure standing by my table.

  ‘I’ve ruined the moment, haven’t I?’ His voice is deep and sexy. I look up and Jed stares down at me. I slap my notebook shut and hope to God he hasn’t seen his or his brother’s name written at the top of the page.

  ‘The moment?’ I say, trying to match the coolness of his expression as he looks down his long lashes at me.

  ‘You’re a writer, right?’ he says.

  ‘Well, yes. Editor of Bridley Green magazine.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’ Jed sits opposite me without invitation and takes a sip of my coffee. ‘So, they’re editor notes you’re making. Not writing the next best-selling book of our time?’

  ‘Not even close,’ I say. ‘I wanted to write a novel once but I don’t have the material.’

  ‘You’re what? Early thirties?’

  ‘Thirty-one, actually.’

  ‘And you don’t have any material? All you have to do is write what you know when it comes to writing a novel. Or so I’m told. Which would imply you know nothing.’

  ‘Has anyone ever told you, you’ve got a very brash way of speaking to people? Especially those you don’t know very well.’

  ‘Everyone tells me that. And I do.’

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Know you.’

  ‘You may think you do but –’

  ‘Early thirties. Unmarried. Escaped the city because your partner let you down. Didn’t live up to your expectations and broke your heart. Throwing yourself into country life but sticking out like a sore thumb.’

  ‘How dare you. How dare –’

  ‘Am I wrong?’

  ‘No, you’re not bloody wrong but it’s not true I stick out like a sore thumb. That would imply I don’t belong here and for your information I’ve made some really good friends.’

  ‘You’ve been here two minutes and you’ve already made really good friends? You’re a fast worker.’

  ‘People like me. I’m not rude to them.’

  ‘Really?’ He draws out the word and then helps himself to another sip of my coffee.

  ‘I’m not rude.’

  ‘You don’t have to convince me. I don’t particularly care anyway.’

  I decide I hate Jed and the second he’s gone I will open the notebook and scribble out all the Pros in his list and just leave the word Arsehole under the list of Cons.

  I stare out across the green and see Damian. He is smiling as he places a plate in front of someone and looks really happy to see them. I notice it’s Beth. She’s there with her mother. I think about using her as an excuse to scoot over there and say hello. Anything to get away from the Bridley Grinch. Jed has stretched his legs forward and crosses them at the ankle so that I have to move my feet to make space. He is slumped all the way down in the plastic chair, his arms crossed over his body. He looks as if he’s staying but as far as I’m concerned, I want him gone. I look back at Damian’s and see how happy he and Beth look. Maybe I should give it one last shot with him. Anything is better than sitting here being miserable with Jed in a place that smells of vinegar.

  ‘I think he’s got someone in his sights,’ Jed says somewhere in the background.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘My little brother. He’s got his eyes on someone. Fancies some young lass.’

  Who even uses terms like that anymore? I am so tempted to say, yes I know, that someone is me, but I won’t give Jed the satisfaction. I’m sure Damian has said little about who he does have his eyes on, because Jed would probably take great pleasure in teasing him. Jed, I’m sure would be a lot more cocky and confident. But the fact that Jed even knows or suspects something of his brother’s love life lets me know that I’m still on Damian’s mind.

  On the downside of dating Damian: his mother and Jed. The thought of going to dinner with Damian’s family, overprotective mother and annoying brother, doesn’t thrill me at all.

  ‘Was there something you wanted?’ I ask Jed, who has now slipped down so far in his chair he may as well be lying in bed.

  He shifts his slumped body up in his seat as if he has read my mind. Then he runs a hand over his hair. He has the exact same dark hair as Damian. His eyes, although the same intense blue, have little sparks of grey at the edges. His eyes are smaller but his lashes just as long. There is something more pronounced about his jaw, giving him a self-assured air bordering on arrogance.

  ‘Wanted? From you?’ he says.

  ‘Well, not particularly from me but from this establishment.’ I grab my coffee cup and slide it towards me when I see his hand reaching in for another sip. ‘You walked in here of your own free will and you’re still here. Not doing much.’

  ‘Not doing much? I thought you and I were having a conversation.’

  ‘Is that what passes for conversation in your books, Jed? I see it more as a character assassination.’

  ‘You think a few home truths is a character assassination?’ He snorts with laughter and I want to punch him.

  ‘The fact is,’ I say pulling all of my things closer to me, ‘you don’t know me and you never will.’

&
nbsp; ‘So I guessed wrong? You came to Bridley out of choice?’

  ‘I was offered a job.’

  ‘And you’ve always wanted to work in Bridley on a free magazine have you?’

  ‘Not exactly. Look, could you go, please? Better still. I’m going. And being as you drank most of my coffee you can bloody well pay for it.’ I rise with an air of indignation and put on my coat. I shove my notebook, iPhone and pen into my bag and attempt to march out but almost trip on Jed’s long legs.

  ‘Do you mind?’ I ask looking at a tear in his jeans. He pulls his legs in fully.

  ‘You can’t run from the truth forever,’ he says. ‘If you don’t face up to things, resolve whatever it is you’re running away from, you’ll never make real friends here and you’ll never see the place for what it really is.’

  ‘Right now, this place is getting on my nerves and I can’t wait until I go back to London.’

  ‘You’ll go back to the same mess you left behind if you don’t fix things.’

  My cheeks burn. The back of my neck is hot and I want to rip my coat back off because I’m steaming with rage. I swing open the door to Daisy’s and look back at Jed. I open my mouth about to say something very cool and dismissive to him but only a whimper of sound comes out. Like a cat who has mewed her last because there is no more cream to be had.

  I let the door swing hard behind me but as it’s on a spring it closes very slowly and makes a soft farty sound. I want to storm over to Damian’s and declare my love for him, but I don’t love him. I still love Rob and, if I’m perfectly honest, I still love Helena. I hate them, too. But there is still a lot that needs resolving. I need at least to have a confrontation with Rob, if not Helena. It’s ridiculous of me to think I can return to London after three months and not have spoken to Rob about what we’re going to do with the flat. I would have nothing to go back to but fragments of my former life and three months of working on a free magazine. Jed obviously looks down on the job of editor of a country magazine and so might the world of journalism when I’m job hunting back in London. I catch sight of Jed’s smug face from my periphery view as I storm away but dare not look his way.