Strictly Between Us

by Jane Fallon

  He’s still clinging on to his position at the Home Improvement Channel, by the way, although I know that Julian has made it clear he would like him to leave. He’s ordered the finance department to go through Patrick’s expenses with a fine-tooth comb. Particularly to double-check the details where any claims for hotel rooms are concerned. There is no promise of a good reference for him. In fact, Julian now seems to relish bad-mouthing him to whoever will listen. So his chances of being snapped up elsewhere are growing slim. I imagine he’ll grasp on where he is until it becomes untenable. And then he’ll probably have to take a step down. Do it the hard way.

  He phoned me a few times after it all blew up. The first time I accidentally answered and then quickly cut him off again when he started hurling insults and accusations at me. Since then I’ve been more cautious. There have been messages, too. Always alluding to what happened between us. I’ve ignored them all. I feel as if they’re a trap he’s setting, trying to get me to incriminate myself with my reply.

  Lately I haven’t heard anything from him, and I don’t want to. For the time being Castle will not be pitching any new shows to Home Improvement. We’ll live.

  70

  Bea

  Production Secretary on series 8 of DIY Heroes. It’s more exciting than it sounds. Actually, it’s not really, unless you thought you might never get a job in the TV industry again, in which case it’s the Holy Grail. I’m grateful. It’s more than I deserve.

  It films in Manchester and they have told me I have to be ‘Manchester based’ (which means that they don’t care where I really live, they won’t pay for my accommodation) so I decided to give up my flat with Ali and Sarah and rent a room in a shared place up there. There’s nothing to keep me in London, and it’s good to be flexible in this business. Now I’m living in a room in a terraced house near Salford, with Katya and Lindsay for flatmates. I haven’t really got to know them yet, I haven’t had time.

  My new ethos is work, work, work. Get noticed. Get promoted. Don’t get involved in anything that will fuck it up. The hours are long but I’m grateful. I don’t want to spend too much time staring at the walls of my new place.

  Patrick has finally stopped calling. The second phone is long gone, obviously, but for weeks my proper mobile buzzed with missed (for which read ‘ignored’) calls from ‘Ben’. I didn’t answer any of them. Deleted the texts. He’s a part of my history I have no desire to revisit.

  Men in any shape or form are off the agenda for a while. I need to focus on me and my career. Everything else can wait.

  I never thought I’d say it but I miss Tamsin. I’ve finally realized that as bosses go she was pretty good. Up there with the best probably.

  71

  Tamsin

  In the immediate aftermath I relied heavily on Adam. Michelle stayed with me for a couple of weeks while she looked for a place of her own to rent. It was almost like being in our early twenties again, but with added crying.

  Adam traipsed over from the other side of London every night, bringing bottles of wine and more takeaway. Having him around was like switching on one of those plug-in air fresheners that are supposed to calm your mood. Or does that only work for cats?

  Because I was feeling edgy and Michelle was – understandably – a bit of a basket case, there was a danger we might rub each other up the wrong way. We came close to arguing a couple of times when we were on our own, something that was unheard of for the two of us. Nothing significant, just snipey irritations, as if we couldn’t work out how to communicate with each other in such close quarters. I think we both started to look forward to Adam’s visits for a bit of light relief. It was as if we needed permission to laugh and relax and pretend that everything was OK.

  I won’t lie, my crush racked up a notch every day. Who needs cheekbones when you could have a relationship based on being friends first? Suddenly the idea of being with someone so kind, caring, so uncomplicated seemed like the sexiest thing ever. I had even come round to the fact that he wanted a horde of kids. I’d grown to love the ones I had conjured up in my head. Happy, chubby, mischievous mini-Adams with a wicked sense of humour and a kind streak a mile thick.

  I tried to rein it in, but I started to feel awkward around him. Self-conscious. I would find myself daydreaming at inappropriate moments, and then I would blush the next time I saw him, as if he could read my thoughts.

  He, meanwhile, continued to be exactly as he had always been. Funny, insulting, teasing, thoughtful. Nothing in his behaviour said that he reciprocated my feelings. I knew I was going to have to confront it sometime, but I was so scared of frightening him off, so worried at the prospect of losing his friendship, that I kept backing out at the last minute.

  I didn’t even tell Michelle how I felt. I’d spent so much time telling her – truthfully at the time – all the ways in which I didn’t fancy Adam that now that I did, I couldn’t quite admit it. Besides, he was so wrong for me, so unlikely, that I thought she might laugh. Not that that would have been a bad thing. She needed things to laugh at.

  Something else happened around this time that took my mind off it, too. Guilt kicked in. Not that I hadn’t already been feeling guilty. I was bursting with it. But suddenly it became my major preoccupation. Not the guilt about what had happened, so much – although obviously that was there – but about the fact that I was still deceiving Michelle. She had no idea what I’d done to her, what her best friend was capable of. It wasn’t fair to let her trust me and rely on me when I wasn’t trustworthy or reliable. I became overwhelmed with the urge to tell her the truth. It was like a nagging voice in my head every time Patrick’s name came up in conversation. I knew it would be a horrible mistake. I knew it would mean she and I could no longer be friends. But I didn’t see how we could be friends if I didn’t tell her, either. Friends don’t treat each other like that.

  ‘Where has this come from?’ Adam said as we sipped beers in The George before collecting our Chinese from Weng Wah House on Haverstock Hill.

  ‘I don’t know. It’s just so wrong for me not to have told her and now I can’t shake the thought. I’m scared I’m going to blurt it out one day.’

  ‘She’d be devastated.’

  ‘I know. But is that a reason not to tell her?’

  He fiddled with a beer mat on the table in front of him. ‘I thought everything we did was to make sure she never found out about you and Patrick.’

  ‘It was. But now I think that was selfish. It was about protecting myself as much as her.’

  ‘What’s the difference?’

  ‘I don’t think it’s right. She’s my best mate. I shouldn’t have lied to her.’

  ‘But if you tell her, not only do you lose her but you’ll break her heart.’

  I know he’s right but it doesn’t seem that simple any more. ‘I don’t think I can stop myself. I keep getting this overwhelming urge to confess.’

  He looked me directly in the eye and I went slightly weak at the knees. I think I even blushed. Great.

  ‘Here’s what I think. Telling her would be selfish. In some weird masochistic way it would make you feel better. Your conscience would be clear. But Michelle would feel worse. Much worse.’

  ‘But she deserves to know the truth.’

  ‘What she definitely doesn’t deserve is to lose her husband and then lose her best friend in the space of a few weeks. The kind thing to do would be to keep it to yourself.’

  ‘Really? Do you think so?’

  ‘I know so.’

  ‘What if I can’t?’

  ‘You have
to. So you feel shit, so what? This isn’t about you. It’s about putting things right.’

  ‘How did you get to be so fucking clever?’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘I’m a teacher, I know everything.’

  He looked at his watch. ‘We should go. Our prawn balls will be getting cold. It’ll get easier once she moves into her own place, trust me. You’re spending too much time together, so it’s impossible to act normally.’

  ‘I wish you’d been my teacher. I might have listened more.’

  ‘OK,’ he said, standing up. ‘That is quite a weird thing to say.’

  ‘I bet your kids love you, though.’

  ‘They call me Pillsbury. After the Pillsbury Dough Boy. I’m sure that must be a sign of affection and respect, yes.’

  I snorted. ‘They don’t!’

  ‘Oh but they do. Not to my face, obviously. Behind my back, but very loudly so I can hear. It’s dreadfully wounding. Bullying, really. I should sue the local authority.’

  ‘Ha! Can I call you that?’

  He pulled a wounded expression. ‘Definitely not. I’m already scarred for life.’

  On the way home I thought about how nice it would be to slip my hand into his. How safe.

  I almost did it too.

  72

  Tamsin

  ‘I’ve got to tell you something.’

  This was last weekend, a couple of months after Michelle’s split from Patrick.

  Michelle had been up and down, but gradually the ups had started to win out. It finally felt as if she had put Patrick and her failed marriage behind her. I was still eaten up by guilt, but I had taken Adam’s advice. Nothing could be gained by Michelle finding out the truth. However much I felt I wanted to exorcise that particular ghost, I had to learn to live with it. It had got easier with time. I was almost able to forget it had ever even happened for days at a stretch.

  We were back at the spa. This time it was her treat – no doubt because that way she knew I wouldn’t be able to say no. We were in the sauna, red-faced and sweating. She had waited until the two other women who were in there with us left.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I feel stupid.’

  I can’t stand when people tease me with a trailer instead of cutting straight to the main event.

  ‘About what? Just tell me.’

  ‘OK. You have to promise not to laugh. Or to say anything.’

  ‘Mich, I am going to kill you if you don’t just tell me what you’re on about.’

  She sat up and looked at me. ‘I think I like Adam.’

  For a second I didn’t quite take in what she was saying. Of course she liked Adam. Adam was great. Then it hit me. She LIKED him. The same way I LIKED him. This was my chance to own up that I did, too. Stake my claim.

  ‘Say something,’ she said. I looked at her and her eyes were shining. She looked animated in a way she hadn’t done for months.’

  ‘Wow!’ I said. ‘When did this happen?’

  ‘I don’t know. Is it ridiculous? It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?’

  Yes. I thought. Please don’t let her be serious.

  ‘No. I mean … it’s a surprise. I had no idea you even thought of him like that.’

  ‘Neither did I. It’s been creeping up on me, I think. He’s just so … lovely.’

  And kind. And sweet. And thoughtful. And funny.

  ‘You fancy him?’

  She actually flushed red. ‘Yes. Like crazy.’

  ‘Does he know?’

  ‘No! God, no. Don’t say anything.’

  ‘I won’t.’ I wouldn’t know what to say.

  ‘I know you probably think I’m stupid. I mean, I know you think he’s completely unfanciable …’

  ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘You pretty much did after that first date you went on.’

  That’s because he’s a grower, I thought. He’s not going to knock anyone off their feet at first sight, but gradually he’ll get under your skin by sheer force of personality. It’s a much more insidious, much deeper kind of attraction.

  ‘I think I just said he wasn’t my type …’

  ‘Anyway. What I’m saying is, I know he’s not obviously drop dead gorgeous, but I happen to think he is. There. Now you can laugh at me.’

  I didn’t want to. I wanted to cry.

  ‘No. I … I don’t know what to say …’

  ‘I know he’s your friend really, so I wouldn’t want you to think I was trying to muscle in …’

  Every part of me wanted to scream, Please don’t, I’m still only just coming to terms with how I feel about him myself. I had been building myself up to coming clean with him. Fantasizing about him reciprocating and us having a future. Why couldn’t I have done it a week ago? The day before? Why couldn’t I have confided in Michelle about how I was feeling?

  Not that I had any evidence he would be anything other than horrified. I knew this was the main reason I had been so hesitant. Adam had never done anything to make me believe he had fallen in love with me as I had with him. Or even that he found me even halfway attractive.

  And then it hit me. Michelle would be a much better match for Adam than me. Both of them deserved someone who would value what was so special about them. Who would treat them well and never cheat on them or lie to them.

  And when I thought about it, I realized he probably liked her, too. He had been so attentive and supportive. He was always telling me how lovely she is and what a shit Patrick must be. I just didn’t put the pieces together.

  I took a long breath. Tried to stem the feeling of panic. Smiled. ‘No. Go for it. I think you could be great together.’

  73

  Tamsin

  Michelle was incapable of making the first move. Just the idea of it made her start to sweat.

  ‘What if he laughs in my face? Or, worse, he’s horrified.’

  ‘He won’t be. Just contrive to be on your own with him and go for it.’

  My stomach turned over at the thought of it. I had thought about nothing else since she first confided in me. Adam taken by surprise, unable to believe his luck, touching her face, moving in for a kiss. My Adam.

  I couldn’t deny her this, though. Somehow if I gave up my hopes for me and Adam, stepped aside and gave Michelle my blessing, I would feel as if I’d paid my penance for what I’d done. I should have been brought up a Catholic really because I have an impressive capacity for guilt. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I deserve to feel guilty. But maybe if I could make things right in another way I could allow myself to ease up a little. Let myself off.

  ‘Can’t you sound him out a bit? Just get a sense of whether he thinks I’m a complete horror?’

  ‘No. Please don’t ask me to do that.’

  ‘You don’t have to make it obvious. Just get a sense … in theory …’

  I remember when Michelle asked me to do this once before. We were about fifteen. I couldn’t think of what else to say so I just marched up to the boy and said, ‘Do you fancy Michelle or not?’

  Luckily he said yes. They ended up going out for a couple of months after that. This time it was more complicated. There were friendships to be compromised. Proper grown-up hearts to be broken. But there was also a chance that two people I loved could end up really happy.

  I owed her.

  ‘OK. I’ll try. I’m not promising anything, though.’

  ‘Don’t give me away, will you?’

  ‘Of course not. I’ll be the height of subtlety.�
��

  ‘I feel sick,’ she said, and I thought, Me too.

  Before I had a chance to put him on the spot, the three of us spent an evening together eating and drinking too much at Michelle’s place. It was like Heart Attack Saturdays all over again, just with a change of personnel and venue. Somehow Michelle had managed to make her rented home feel like the place we all still wanted to congregate in. Cosy, warm, homey.

  Adam was already there when I arrived, and I was relieved because I didn’t want to have to fill Michelle in on my progress – which was none by the way. I hadn’t seen Adam for a couple of days and it didn’t seem like the kind of thing I could bring up on the phone. And besides, I was still trying to process the implications. To let go and give up the dream that had been quietly fermenting away inside me for weeks.

  They were both beavering away in the kitchen when I let myself in. Radio turned up. Adam, wearing a Santa hat, doing a stupid little dance as he sliced tomatoes. Singing along to a Christmas carol. Michelle – who never sings – joining in with tuneless harmonies. I say kitchen, it’s a corner of the living area given over to a couple of units, an oven, a fridge and a hob. It’s smartly done but basic. Compared to Michelle’s well-loved, lived-in space in Highgate anyway.

  The first thing that struck me when I saw them side by side, both chopping something or other, was that they looked like a couple. A couple where he was punching well above his weight, but a couple nonetheless. They looked so comfortable together. He was saying something to make her laugh and she was looking at him with what I can only describe as adoration, warbling away. The knot in my stomach tightened.