by Shari Low
We danced out the record, then called it a day when the track switched and Destiny’s Child demanded that we say their name.
At the table, Sasha was back and fixing her lippy, using the mirror sewn into the inside of her sparkly silver clutch. I slid in beside her again, just as she lowered her bag, eyes fixed on the door.
‘Holy shit, who’s that?’
I followed her gaze. ‘Chloe. She’s been our best friend for many years,’ I teased her, knowing full well she wasn’t referring to our mate’s arrival, despite it being indisputably spectacular. Chloe had poured her sextastic curves into a cream, column-style dress that was split down to the navel at the front, showing off her deep caramel skin and perfectly formed natural boobs. She’d pulled back her Afro on the sides, and added smoky eyes and a deep red lipstick. On anyone else it would be too much. On her it was glorious. Suddenly my plain black dress was woefully unspectacular.
‘You’re hilarious. No really,’ Sasha barbed, oozing sarcasm. ‘Who’s the bloke, smartarse?’
‘I could be mistaken, but I think it’s a new doc at the hospital. A neurosurgeon. Doctor Campbell.’
So that was the surprise Chloe had alluded to earlier. Well played on her part.
‘I’ve only seen him in passing, never treated any of his patients,’ I went on, ‘but the hospital grapevine is alive with the sound of gossip about him. Single. Nice guy. A touch on the arrogant side, but then most surgeons are. Not a perv. No recorded moments of leeriness. And Maggie, the cleaner on our ward, says she’s going to have his babies. Which might take medical intervention, because she’s sixty-one.’
‘I can see her point,’ Sasha concurred, keeping her voice low so she wasn’t overheard by our blokes. Not that she had to worry. Justin and Nate were once again embroiled in their usual conversation that involved the latest episodes of twenty-two men chasing a ball. If our circle was anything to go by, it was the favourite topic of the West of Scotland male.
Chloe headed our way, bringing Dr Campbell behind her. She introduced him to Sasha and me first.
‘Chicas, this is Richard Campbell. Richard, meet Liv and Sasha.’
He flashed an exceptionally endearing grin, and I could see why Maggie the cleaner was contemplating babies at a time in her life when she should be contemplating retirement cruises.
‘We’ve met?’ he said, as he shook my hand. ‘I recognise you.’
‘I’m a nurse at Glasgow Central. Palliative Care ward. We’ve probably passed each other in the canteen.’ I didn’t say that we definitely had been in the same cappuccino queue in the staff restaurant as I didn’t want to give any hint of stalker-like behaviour. The poor guy was probably self-conscious enough.
‘Next time I’ll say hello,’ he promised. ‘Good to meet you.’
‘And you.’ So far, the gossip seemed pretty much accurate. Nice guy. I approved.
He was already on to Sasha. Or rather, Sasha was on to him.
‘Okay, I need details,’ she announced before he could even speak.
This clearly amused him.
‘Shoot,’ he said, laughing.
‘Where are you from?’
‘Manchester.’
‘Age?’
‘Thirty-four.’
‘Are you now, or have you ever been, married?’
‘Nope.’
‘Currently seeing anyone?’
‘No.’
‘How long have you been in Glasgow?’
‘Ten months.’
‘So you’re a hot doctor. Why are you still single? What’s wrong with you?’
‘Sasha!’ Chloe interjected, outraged. ‘Enough!’
‘No, it’s fine. I can handle this,’ Richard said, with far more good nature than Sasha deserved. She was truly a nightmare sometimes, but he was handling it well.
‘Workaholic tendencies. Too busy to meet anyone. Live in hope,’ he batted back.
Sasha was chuckling now too. ‘Okay, you pass. You can stay.’
‘Brain surgery is a doddle compared to this,’ he added, as Chloe steered him to the safety of the men’s side of the table.
‘Are you two talking about football?’ she asked, already fully aware what the answer would be.
Nate nodded. ‘Busted.’
Richard slid right in beside him. ‘Excellent. Sounds good to me.’
Chloe laughed as she left him there and came to join us back at the oestrogen side of the padded leather.
‘Sit down and tell me what’s going on immediately,’ Sasha demanded.
Chloe obliged. ‘Don’t get your thong in a twist, Sasha. We’re just friends. He moved here at the beginning of the year and hasn’t really got to know anyone yet. He was at a loose end tonight, so I invited him along. Don’t think he’s really my type.’
‘Because your type isn’t good-looking, successful guys with a nice smile and a job that involves healing the sick?’ I countered, laughing.
‘Nah,’ Chloe answered. ‘I like them with just a bit more of an edge. Maybe he’ll grow on me though.’ I hoped so. If this guy couldn’t fill the Connor-shaped hole in her heart, I wasn’t sure that anyone could.
The DJ struck up the opening bars of ‘Proud Mary’ and Chloe jumped to her feet. ‘Yassss! Come on. My inner Tina Turner needs some action.’
‘My inner Tina Turner needs to visit the ladies, so I’ll pass. Sasha, it’s on you.’
Sasha groaned as she followed Chloe onto the dance floor, and I headed to the ladies, relieved to be escaping.
On the way, I spotted a door leading out to a gorgeous little courtyard and I felt the packet of Silk Cut in my clutch bag start to twitch. I hadn’t smoked since I was eighteen, until a couple of months ago. One of the joiners who was working on the house stepped out back on his lunch break, lit a cigarette and I was immediately transported back to my teenage self, the one who was still full of huge ambitions for the future. I’ve no idea what possessed me, but I’d cadged a cig off him, and ever since then I’d been sneaking the odd one in times of stress or boredom. It was ridiculous. I was twenty-nine years old. A fully functioning adult. A bloody nurse. And I’d decided to take up smoking. Not every day. Just the odd one every couple of days, but still, it made absolutely no sense at all. That’s why I’d decided that this was going to be my last packet. Absolutely. Definitely. Although I might have said that last week.
‘Do you think I could have a light please?’ I asked a striking girl standing alone in the corner. She had a glossy blonde bob, flawless make-up, and she was wearing a figure-hugging white dress that showed she didn’t carry an extra ounce of body fat. Everything about her screamed ‘impeccable grooming’. She was the kind of woman I aspired to be, but somehow, I still ended up rushing out to work with wet hair, wearing pants I turned pink in the wash back in 1998.
She held out a gold lighter and I lit the cigarette, already mentally running through the chewing gum/perfume/hand-washing system that would immediately follow so that Nate didn’t realise I was smoking. He definitely wouldn’t approve. Blonde bob then retreated back into the corner. It may have been a subtle sign that she wouldn’t welcome small talk, but I chose to ignore it.
‘Are you having a good night?’ I asked.
‘It’s not one of my better ones,’ she said, and there was no mistaking the bitterness in her voice.
‘Oh.’ I wasn’t entirely sure where to go with that, but I get deeply uncomfortable in awkward silences so I broke into a nervous ramble to fill the void. ‘That’s a shame. I thought the music was really good though. And the food. Oh my God, the chicken satay sticks are amazing. I’d never tried them before but I’ll definitely have them again. I think Iceland do them.’
I could see she was glazing over and I had an internal dialogue in the hope of getting myself under control. Stop talking. Stop talking. STOP TALKING.
But it seemed my anxious babble wasn’t yet done.
‘Are you a friend of Sasha’s then?’
Of course she was, otherwise
she wouldn’t be here.
Put cigarette in mouth. Stop talking.
‘I’m Madeleine. I work with Justin.’ Ah, one of the modern-day yuppies. That figured. With their sharp clothes and impeccable grooming, they all looked like they invested heavily in their appearance and that white blonde hair didn’t come from a bottle purchased down the chemist for a fiver.
‘Ah, that’s good. Have you worked together for long?’
‘Seven years,’ she said, and she didn’t sound happy about it. In fact, either the smoke was getting in her eyes, or she was on the verge of tears. Poor soul. She was having a bad night and there I was making small talk.
‘Hope you don’t mind me asking, but are you ok?’
‘I’m fine,’ she said, shrugging. I thought she was going to finish there, but she didn’t. ‘Just boyfriend stuff,’ she added.
‘Is he being an arse?’ I said, trying to make her smile. It didn’t work. Her words oozed weariness and futility.
‘Yup. Can’t make his mind up between me and someone else.’
‘Well, I bloody hope he picks you,’ I said, trying to bolster her up again. ‘You’re clearly a catch!’
She finally smiled, but before she could reply we were interrupted by a new arrival. ‘Nurse Jamieson, I don’t believe the NHS endorses having a sly cig on a Friday night.’
Richard Campbell. Bollocks. Totally caught. I was going to have to make him promise not to mention this to Nate, Chloe or Sasha.
‘It’s for medical research,’ I quipped back. ‘I want to see how many I need to smoke before I feel really crap.’
‘Interesting premise for a study. Mind if I join you? And by that I mean, can I cadge a cigarette because I don’t actually smoke unless I’ve had a couple of beers and I’m looking for an excuse to freeze my arse off.’ He had a point. It must be approaching zero on the temperature scale and yet here we were, standing outside in the cold for the sake of a vice that could kill us. I could see the flaws in this strategy.
Madeleine stubbed out what was left of her cigarette and headed back inside. I felt another twinge of compassion for her as she passed, and we shared a mutually sympathetic glance. Richard and I chatted for the next few minutes about his time at the hospital (almost a year now and, yes, he was enjoying it) and my friendship with Chloe (almost ten years now, and yes, she was fabulous) and I realised that if she didn’t fancy him, she absolutely should. He was funny, and smart, and had that manner that put people at ease. He was… sexy. Not in an obvious ‘muscle-bound gym-dweller’ kind of way, but in a charming, cool, alpha male vibe that I could see would be seriously attractive. Not that I was attracted to him. Pfft. No. Absolutely not. I was married. And he was here with Chloe. Out of bounds on both counts. No, not attracted to him at all.
I cut off what he was saying with, ‘I’d better go back inside. In fact, I’ll just nip to the loo first. And we’ll erm… keep this whole smoking thing between us?’
‘Absolutely,’ he agreed. ‘Unless I ever need to blackmail you.’
‘Just say the word and I’ll give you everything I own,’ I joked.
He opened the door for me and I headed to the ladies. Perfume. Chewing gum. Hand wash. And repeat: I am not attracted to my friend’s date for the night.
Unfortunately, no one told my face this, and I blushed furiously when – de-smoked – I eventually joined the others back at the table and saw he was already there. In fact, he was next to Nate. My husband. The love of my life. I was attracted to him, not to some swarthy doctor. Another pfft. How ridiculous.
I caught his eye and he gave me a conspiratorial wink, sending the blood rushing to my face.
‘Why are you bright red?’ Sasha asked, in full suspicion mode.
‘Think I’m just a bit hot. It was really warm in the toilets.’
Lies. Lies. Lies. I was a terrible person.
She sniffed. ‘Have you been smoking?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ More lies. This was turning into an episode of Crimestoppers.
Clearly she’d had one too many Sambucas to pursue this line of enquiry, and thankfully decided to switch her interrogation skills to a situation that interested her far more than my possible nicotine habit. She leaned in close to Chloe. ‘Tell me again why he’s not your type?’
Chloe chuckled. ‘Just not feeling it. Besides, I work with him – that makes it way too complicated.’
‘Potential?’ Sasha asked.
‘Don’t think so. Although I reserve the right to change my mind.’
‘Permission granted. You’d be fricking nuts not to because he is entirely shaggable. Not that I’d choose him for a wanton one-night stand over Justin,’ she clarified.
At that, she gestured in her boyfriend’s direction. I followed the trajectory of her nod and saw Justin leading a chant as he did simultaneous shots with a whole table of colleagues, including Madeleine, the girl from the smoking session.
She still didn’t look very happy. In fact, as soon as Justin had downed his drink, I saw her lean in and say something to him. Judging by his expression, it seemed that it wasn’t a compliment on the mini steak pies.
Sasha was no longer gazing their way, so I didn’t enlighten her. If riled, she could whip up a jealous outburst in a heartbeat and it was always completely unfounded. She had absolutely nothing to worry about. Justin adored her – he’d never cheat.
‘Right, girls, this is how I see it,’ she announced, taking the lead in our impromptu committee meeting. ‘Chloe, you need to jump that doctor’s bones. And Liv…’
I could hardly wait. ‘Yes?’
‘You need to come to your senses about your marriage, call it a day before you waste any more years of your life, or else the future burden is falling on Chloe.’
‘What future burden?’ Chloe asked, perplexed.
Sasha answered Chloe like she was passing on grave, tragic news, nodding in my direction as she spoke. ‘You’ll need to take this sad old husk to the bingo.’
Chapter Three
Justin’s 30th Birthday Party
August 2001
I checked my watch: 7 p.m. We should have left fifteen minutes ago. Sasha would go nuclear if we were late to Justin’s party, but Nate was still on the phone to Connor in Chicago. The two of them had been mates long before we all met at university and they still spoke every couple of weeks on the phone.
Last week, Connor had called Nate to let him know that he’d split with his girlfriend, Stacey, and Nate had called him back tonight to see how he was doing. What was supposed to be a five-minute call had turned into an hour and a phone bill that would leave us skint next month.
Nate had tried to persuade him to come back for Justin’s party, but Connor wasn’t up for it. He and Justin had become good mates in the year or so that they’d hung out together back in the day, before Connor had headed off to the USA, but not the kind of friendship that would make you travel thousands of miles just for a birthday party. Besides, too many bridges had been burned, he’d said. We knew what he meant: Chloe. They hadn’t kept in touch, not even once, since he went off to the States, and it was perfectly understandable that Connor would feel uncomfortable seeing her again after all this time. She’d dumped him. And then he’d reacted by getting over it all pretty quickly and leaving the country with his rebound girl. He hadn’t been back since and we’d never made it over there. The truth was that every year I came up with a reason not to go – work, skint, moving house – because I felt it would be disloyal to Chloe.
Now, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t pleased his relationship with Stacey hadn’t worked out. Chloe had long since stopped talking about Connor on a daily basis, but I knew she’d regretted calling it off with him since about ten minutes after she did it. I couldn’t wait to tell her that Connor was single again, but I wanted to do it when we were on our own and away from work, and we’d been on opposite shifts all week.
I’d try to find the right moment tonight to let her know.
Nate finally got off the phone.
‘Any luck convincing him to come back yet?’ I asked, ever hopeful.
He shook his head. ‘I think it would need to be something really special to make him come back and I know it’s because he’s not up for facing Chloe. I told him she was single, but he’s never got over her dumping him, no matter how many times I tell him she regrets it. I don’t think he believes me.’
‘Argh, he’s so bloody stubborn. Sad thing is, if he’d just bloody walk into a room, I think they’d clap eyes on each other and that would be it.’
Nate leaned down and kissed me. ‘Eternal romantic.’
It wasn’t the moment to say I hadn’t felt a gush of romance in a long time. I shook that thought off. We were still good. The house renovation was taking forever, but we were enjoying it. I still loved my job. Nate had moved to a new school in an undeniably deprived area of the city, but he was relishing the challenge of initiating a new PE programme there. Life was working out just fine. We were happy. Content. I ignored the tug of irritation that pulled my gut at the thought of that ‘c’ word and reminded myself that I was lucky. A lot of people never got this.
After a mad dash in a taxi, we got to the pub only half an hour late. Sasha might forget murdering us and just go for minor assault instead.
I spotted her at a corner table and headed over. ‘Hello gorgeous,’ I greeted her.
‘Hello latecomers,’ she drawled. I shut up her dig by giving her a kiss, then we plonked ourselves down and checked out the room. There was a gang of Justin’s workmates, a few other guys from university and his brother, Jake, was sitting with what might be their mum and dad.
My thoughts were blown away by Chloe’s arrival. ‘Hello, you shower of lovely people!’ she chirped, sounding happy and carefree. I hated the thought that there was every possibility that I’d change that mood before the end of the night. How would she take the news that Connor’s relationship had ended, but that he wasn’t coming back? Gutted? Furious? Sad? Hopeful?