by Lucy Dawson
‘Oh good,’ she smiled brightly, ‘you’re here. Sorry I’m so early – Tom had to go into work and I couldn’t see any point in hanging around so . . . I picked up some post from downstairs for you.’ She lightly threw a postcard across the room as she dumped her bag on the ground and began to remove her gloves.
I picked it up as it landed at my feet. It was a picture of a hippo with a small bird sitting on its back, and above it was the caption ‘Friends’.
I flipped it over and read:
Dear Al. Hope you are OK. Let’s have a Christmas drink, yeah? South Africa is hot, hot, hot! Love Bailey. xxx
‘Sorry. I didn’t know if I should hide it or not,’ she said, head sympathetically on one side. ‘I’m sure he meant well, Al, honestly . . . but it’s fair to say he could have chosen a better card. No one needs to be told they remind someone of a hippo.’
That hadn’t even occurred to me until then.
‘I’m really sorry that it didn’t work out between the two of you,’ she said.
‘Just don’t bother, Gretchen,’ I said, looking at her steadily. ‘Tom’s not here. You’re wasting your breath.’
She sighed sadly. ‘Oh, Alice. Don’t. I was trying to be nice. How much longer are you going to keep grabbing the olive branch and hitting me with it?’
‘How long have you got?’
‘But Al, you finished with him. You didn’t want him! Surely you want Tom to be happy, otherwise that’s just . . . really selfish. It doesn’t bother me that he went out with you.’
‘Well it bothers me!’ I shouted, suddenly angry. ‘You were my best friend, Gretchen! You never even told me you liked him! He wasn’t some bloke I saw for a month or two – I was with him for two years!’ Had she actually just called me selfish? To my face?
‘OK, I know that now,’ she said warningly. ‘But . . .’
‘Oh come on, you knew that once you dropped your bombshell about me and Bailey! You totally knew he was a major part of my life.’
‘But while we’re on the subject, you’d been with my brother for about five months. If you still were, you and I wouldn’t even be having this conversation and you know it.’
‘Yes we would actually,’ I said quickly. ‘You lied to me, you manipulated me, you—’
‘Oh you know what?’ she said, closing her eyes briefly. ‘I can’t do this crap, it’s beneath both of us. I tried to explain to you about me and him dating, but you wouldn’t take my calls and refused to listen. You’ve acted like a child all the way through, in fact.’ She reached for her bag. ‘It’s lucky at least one of us is capable of behaving like an adult. I think I should probably go.’
‘Back to the flat where I used to live?’ I said. ‘By the way, does Tom know Paulo beat him to first go on you?’
The second the words were out of my mouth I regretted it. It was a disgusting thing to say.
She flushed a deep red. ‘That was a really low shot. I was ill that night, as you well know. And by the way, you’re very welcome.’ She motioned around her.
‘Believe me, I’m making every effort to get the hell out of your life.’
She said nothing, but turned and shoved her feet angrily back into her shoes and yanked on her gloves. She reached the door, paused, turned back and said, ‘I’m not out to get you, Alice. And I don’t feel like I owe you anything either, so don’t go thinking this is me soothing my guilty conscience, because it isn’t. It’s simply that you were there for me when I needed you. So I’m here for you. That’s what true friendship is, in case you’d forgotten.’
She looked at me and waited for me to say something, but I didn’t.
Gretchen shook her head in disappointment, walked through the door and closed it quietly behind her.
Chapter Twenty-Six
I wasn’t entirely surprised to have another visitor the following night. I’d barely been back from work long enough to make a cup of tea before the front doorbell rang. On answering it, I discovered Tom on the other side.
‘Hi,’ he said awkwardly. He looked more like the old him than the last time I’d seen him – he was wearing his glasses and his hair looked a little more dishevelled than styled. ‘Someone was coming in downstairs and let me in, so I didn’t buzz the intercom and just came straight up. I hope that’s OK.’
‘Of course it is!’ I said quickly. Was this what we’d been reduced to? Polite explanations about intercoms?
‘Can I come in? I’d like to talk to you.’
I opened the door wider. ‘Would you like a tea?’
‘Yes, please.’ He stepped in and slipped his shoes off, then removed his coat, laying it carefully over the arm of the sofa. ‘It’s bloody nippy out there,’ he shivered, padding over to the breakfast bar in his socks and settling on a stool.
‘Good day at work?’ I asked, reaching for a cup and automatically putting in the spoonful of sugar I knew he took. It was the start to a conversation we’d had hundreds of times before, but never in such surreal circumstances.
‘Could be worse,’ he yawned, taking his glasses off and giving them a quick wipe before popping them back on. ‘Everyone’s working their arses off to get everything done in time for Christmas and they’re just assuming I can pick up things where I left off six-odd months ago: “Come on, Tom, you know we keep those documents on the third floor at the back of the cupboard in what was Heather’s office before she went on maternity leave, or try in Jonty’s cabinet. He’s sharing with Don now.”’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t know who any of these people are, and frankly it all makes me want to climb into the mythical Heather’s cupboard and hope it leads to Narnia. Or back to New York. Either would be an improvement. Anyway, enough about me. How’s your work going?’
‘OK, thanks.’ I decided not to mention the embarrassing episode I’d had earlier that morning. I’d been shooting some promo shots of a petulant ex popstar – who was desperately trying to reclaim the remainder of her fifteen minutes by doing any reality TV show going – when I’d unmistakably heard either her, or her agent, mutter something about Gretchen under their breath. My head had shot up immediately; Gretchen wasn’t exactly a common name. They were gossiping about us? Could they possibly know she was now with my ex? Gretchen must have told them. What had she said?
I had felt myself begin to shake with adrenalin. Now I couldn’t even come to work to escape her? ‘If you’ve got something to say,’ I said clearly, sounding far braver than I felt, ‘please feel free to just say it. Perhaps I can clear up whatever misinformation you might have heard.’
The agent shot the sulky star a warning look and said smoothly, ‘Sorry, Alice, all we were saying is how great it is for Gretchen that she’s been off the scene for a few months and yet rumour has it she’s up for a lead in a new Working Title project.’ The surly girl huffed and then flounced off to the loo. ‘Sorry about her,’ the agent said uncomfortably. ‘She’s just jealous. I know Gretchen’s your mate. No offence.’
‘None taken,’ I said faintly, bending over to fiddle with a light cable to hide my flaming face. I had to get a grip. Assuming clients were bitching about me, then having a go at them, was beyond unprofessional.
I plonked a tea in front of Tom and wondered what he’d really come to say.
‘Thank you. So do you think you might break even this year?’ Tom asked.
‘With a bit of luck.’ I tried a smile, but it fell rather flat.
‘That’s excellent! Well done you.’ He took an appreciative sip of the tea and his glasses steamed up slightly.
We lapsed into silence and I said eventually, ‘So, I take it this isn’t just a social call?’
‘No, it’s not. I’ve come over to chat with you about this housing situation.’
I sat down and said, ‘Has she sent you?’
He frowned and shook his head. ‘No, no. She knows I’m here, but what I want to talk to you about is my idea. So . . . clearly you can’t, and I imagine don’t want to, continue living in what is, after all, her
home – whatever she said last night.’ He said it not unkindly, but with no sugar coating, but then I wouldn’t have expected anything less from him.
‘I don’t—’ I began, but he held up a hand and pushed his slipping glasses firmly on his nose with the other one. ‘Please, just let me finish. I know this whole situation has been unbearably difficult for all of us, at some stage or another. But I’m actually proud of all of us. I’m proud that you and I are still able to be sat here talking, I’m proud that Gretchen didn’t make a fuss about you still being here when we got back, and I think it says a great deal about all of us and the people we are. It’s good and right that you support and help people you care about, even if sometimes it seems as if it’s at a personal cost to yourself. We’ve all pulled it out of the bag when it’s mattered, and that’s been a real achievement.’
He still didn’t get it. He still couldn’t see her for what she was.
‘But I’m not proud that I asked you to move out of our flat in the first place, because of what happened with Bailey. It was your home as much as mine. But I was hurt and . . . well anyway. That’s water under the bridge. Gretchen needs to be able to move back in here and I wondered how you would feel about moving back into the flat?’ He smiled but shifted rather uncomfortably in his seat. ‘It seems a vacancy has come up.’
What? I stared at him. Had I just heard right? Live with him again? Was he mad?
‘It’s totally within your price range,’ he continued. ‘Two nice flatmates – well, Paulo is one of them, but you can’t have everything – and you could move in as soon as you want. What do you say?’ He looked at me earnestly.
The person who had replaced me was moving out? I looked at him incredulously. He was actually serious!
‘Yeah, because Gretchen’s going to love that,’ I said sarcastically.
He looked puzzled. ‘I can’t see how it’s any of her business.’
I raised an eyebrow in disbelief.
‘Look, I know this is not where we imagined in a million years we would ever be, but here we are and you need somewhere to live, urgently.’ He sat back. ‘I should never have asked you to move out in the first place, Al – I feel really bad. If nothing else, just come back and use it as a temporary base, until you find an alternative. Whatever works for you.’
I opened my mouth to refuse, but then closed it again. I hadn’t got any better options . . . suppose I did just stay there until the New Year when . . . No! What was I thinking?
‘I can’t,’ I said firmly. ‘This is insane!’
‘I’ll concede it’s unusual,’ he agreed. ‘But it’s not insane. In fact, it’s what I want.’ He hesitated and then said, ‘Without wanting to rake things up, I regret that in the past I wasn’t more spontaneous and less careful – always worrying about money and the sensible thing to do. If you see something you want, you have to make it happen. So . . .’ He put his cup down firmly. ‘What do you say?’
Whoa . . . what the hell was that supposed to mean? Was he talking about us?
‘Tom,’ I said quickly, ‘I don’t think—’
He held up a hand. ‘Alice, there’s absolutely no expectation of any kind of commitment. No expectation of anything at all, in fact. I think you should just take things day by day and see how you feel once you’re back. If it’s too weird, you just move out again.’
‘But Gretchen—’
‘Stop worrying about Gretchen! Leave that to me.’ Then he motioned to a stack of my boxes next to the front door. ‘It looks like you’re already packed anyway.’
‘I’m absolutely desperate to get out of here, Tom,’ I said quietly. ‘Like you wouldn’t believe, but—’
‘Then move back in! You could be back in your old room by Sunday. I’d say Saturday, but we’re having a sort of welcome home/early Christmas thing on Saturday night. It was the only date Paulo could do before he flies home for Christmas. Gretchen’s coming.’
‘Tom,’ I said, ‘you’ve just asked me to move back in and you’re worried about a party?’
‘Fair point, I guess.’ He pulled a bit of a face. ‘Leave it with me, I’ll deal with it. Saturday it is then.’ He raised his mug. ‘To fresh starts,’ he said.
I looked at him doubtfully. ‘I haven’t actually said yes.’
‘I don’t see,’ he said, ‘that you’ve got anything to lose.’
When I arrived at the flat on Saturday afternoon with my stuff, Paulo was the only one in.
‘Hola, Alice!’ he said with a big smile. ‘Welcome home!’ Which was nice of him. He even helped me carry my boxes up from the taxi, dumping them in my old office. It would be weird sleeping in there again. He looked at his watch and said, ‘I have to go and buy drinks for tonight – I promise Tom. Do you want me to get you some?’ I shook my head and he gave me a thumbs up before bounding downstairs shouting, ‘See you later!’
The room had the air of someone unfamiliar having been in it, but was spotlessly clean. There were also nine boxes piled up in the sitting room, all taped up, which I assumed belonged to the person moving out. Perhaps they were halfway through a run and were on their way back to get the last ones. I went to take a sneaky peek, to see what Tom had done with our old bedroom, but oddly found it locked. Maybe that was sensible given someone was moving stuff out of the flat.
I walked out into the hallway, heard a key in the door, footsteps on the stairs and then came face to face with a smiling but totally unfamiliar dark-haired girl dressed casually in jeans and a parka. She was holding a couple of Sainsbury’s bags. ‘Hi!’ she said, dropping them, kicking her shoes off and wrestling her arms out of the sleeves of her coat. ‘You must be Alice. I’m Kitty.’ She held out her hand and I shook it automatically. ‘The others not back yet?’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Shit! I’m so late!’
She grabbed the shopping, walked straight into the kitchen, pulled the fridge door open and started shoving the contents of the bags in, wherever they would fit, in a very familiar way. I wondered if she was Paulo’s girlfriend? ‘It’s so friggin cold out there!’ she said chattily, reaching for the kettle, filling it up and shoving it on. ‘Right! Best start getting ready! You all through in the bathroom?’ she called over her shoulder as she marched out into the hall. Utterly confused I followed her and said, ‘Er Kitty – sorry . . . are you . . . ?’
She was stood in front of Tom’s door, fumbling with a set of keys. As she selected one and slid it into the lock, I heard the front door bang open and gasps of laughter followed by Gretchen’s voice. What the hell was she doing here? I thought he said he was going to deal with it?
‘My fucking arms are going to fall off!’ she cried.
‘All right, potty mouth!’ Tom laughed. ‘Just the stairs, that’s all! Biceps Bartholomew! Shit, we’re late! The car’ll be here to get the stuff in five. Come on!’
I turned to see them both staggering up, him carrying two boxes of beers he could hardly see over and her lugging several clinking carrier bags, puffing with the effort. They collapsed them down just as Kitty pushed Tom’s door open and revealed a totally different interior than the one I was expecting to see. There were bursting bin bags everywhere, spewing girls’ clothes out as if they’d popped like overripe pieces of fruit. The bed was in a different position and the lampshade was an altogether more feminine affair, as were the curtains. There was a poster of the Sex and the City girls on the wall and it reeked of vanilla air freshener. It was just the kind of room I might have had when I’d just started flat sharing.
It plainly wasn’t Tom’s room any more.
‘Oh, hi!’ Tom said, genuine warmth in his voice as he saw me standing there. ‘You’re here! And you’ve met Kitty as well! Excellent!’ He looked at his watch. ‘Where’s Paulo? This is his sodding party, too! OK, the car is arriving to get my boxes in about five—’
There was a honking downstairs.
‘Make that the car is arriving now! OK, right. We’ll load all my stuff up, whizz back over, unload and then we’ll be ba
ck. No one is due before nine anyway. I feel bad that we’re doing this party here, I really do. We should have done it at yours, Gretch.’
‘Hi, Al,’ Gretchen nodded a hello in my direction. ‘We couldn’t because we didn’t know if Alice was going to want to move back, did we?’ She shook her head in mock despair. ‘Can I send him back if he gets too much?’ she teased, glancing at Kitty then flicking a tiny ball of tissue from her coat pocket at Tom.
Kitty laughed. ‘Nope. It’s been very brief but memorable – how I like all of my men.’
Tom held up his hands in embarrassed good humour. ‘OK, OK, ladies, I get the message. Are you all right, Alice?’ he suddenly said. ‘You look like you’re about to throw up.’
‘I’m fine.’ I forced a smile. ‘Tired . . . from moving earlier. I might go and have a quick lie-down.’
‘Good idea,’ he said. ‘Got to be back on top form for the party later.’
He laughed a slightly too jolly laugh and looked at Gretchen, who immediately said, ‘Oh, absolutely. It’ll be good to have you there.’
I managed to hold it together and not start crying until I’d shut my bedroom door behind me.
Six hours later the flat was jammed with people I didn’t know, bottles of booze on every surface and the buzz of conversation straining over the very loud stereo.
I was drunk and attempting to focus on Paulo’s face, who was talking away animatedly, while I tried to wade through the waves of humiliation and misery that kept engulfing me every time I thought about Tom asking me to move back in.
How could I have been so fucking stupid? They were going to live together. He’d taken his stuff to hers already. Tom, Mr Slow But Steady, had moved in with someone after barely three months of dating? How was this happening?
‘So it’s not, you know, weird to be back?’ Paulo ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Tom helped Kitty move out of your old office: he thought it might be too strange for you to sleep in yours and his old room. It is all change!’ He laughed and then looked rather surprised as I knocked my drink back in one. ‘He seems happy with Gretchen, you think?’