by Ruth Jones
Then came results day. They’d been posted on the department board and there was much to celebrate. Both Matt and Hetty had come out with high 2.1s and were delighted. Neither could hide their joy when they bumped into each other at the noticeboard. At first they were shy and clumsy, not having spoken to each other properly for over six weeks.
‘Well done, mate,’ Matt offered.
‘And you, Matty! And you!’
‘Did OK, didn’t we?’
‘We really, really did.’
They both stood there awkwardly for a moment before the tension became too much. Matt was the first to crumble.
‘Oh for fuck’s sake, come here.’
And he held his arms open for a reconciliatory hug.
Hetty wasted no time in tearfully reciprocating. ‘Matty, I am so sorry.’
‘What’ve you got to be sorry for? I’m the one who’s been a knob.’
‘But I should’ve listened to you about Adam, and I didn’t.’
‘Listen, who you go out with really isn’t any of my business, and I mean that. I’m not just bein’ arsey. And obviously you really like him, and judging by what he said at the bowling alley, he really likes you in some weird, Adam-ish way.’
‘The thing is, Matt …’ And she thought about telling him what had really gone on. About the bet. About everything. But then she thought, Why spoil this perfectly lovely moment? ‘Shall we go to the Union and get completely smashed?’
‘Abso-fucking-lutely!’
And they headed off together.
Later that night, after a lot of beer had been drunk and a lot of laughing and farewells and promises to stay in touch amongst the graduands, Matt and Hetty, arm in arm, wended their way out of the Union, stopping occasionally for yet another drunken hug and yet another oath sworn that they would be friends for ever and that no one would EVER get in the way of that. Not even Adam Latimer. At the mention of his name, Hetty, who was the drunkest she’d ever been, decided to go and find him. ‘Because let’s be realistical, Matthew, tonight is probably the last time I’ll ever see him and, well … I’m only human, and a last chance is a last chance!’
She headed in the direction of Redelm Hall and Adam’s room, with Matt mock-saluting her and shouting, ‘You do what ya gotta do, sista!’ He laughed at himself for sounding such a jerk before stumbling off drunkenly to his bed.
Hetty knew it was a long shot, expecting Adam to be in his room. He’d probably be in bed with some poor unsuspecting first-year student, or getting stoned at a house party in Kenilworth. She knocked twice on his door – no answer. So she fished in her bag for a pen and a bit of paper – the back of an old envelope would have to do. She scrawled, I called. I’m drunk. Come and see me, Adam. Please? H xx
The effects of the booze protected her from feeling undignified as she stuffed the envelope under Adam’s door. But somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she’d regret writing the note in the morning. She clambered to her feet and decided to go and find Matt again. Because he always made her feel better. And hopefully he’d have some KitKats.
Matt’s corridor was deserted – surprising, considering so many people had had their results that day. Hetty thought there’d be a party on every floor! She knocked gently. ‘Matt?’ She thought she heard movement inside, so she waited. ‘Matt – it’s me.’ Silence. Hetty squashed her face up against the door and tried talking through the Yale lock. ‘I went to his room. He wasn’t there. Obviously!’ Her voice was sad and resigned. And slurring. ‘Are you there?’ No answer. ‘I wish I’d never met him, Matt. I could’ve had a much nicer time these past three years if I’d never met him.’ She put her ear to the door to listen for more signs of life. There were none, but she carried on regardless. ‘Y’know, I was thinking, it’s a shame you an’ me don’t like each other in that way. We’d have made a lovely couple, don’t you think? But the problem is I just don’ fancy you. So sorry.’ Realizing it was pointless to stay any longer, she bid Matt’s door goodnight and whispered, ‘Nighty-night, Matty. I love you sooooo much!’ And headed off towards the staircase, bumping into the walls of the corridor as she staggered away.
The next day, she didn’t wake up until midday and even after so much sleep she still had a raging headache. She could hear people in the rooms neighbouring hers, packing up, hysterical in their hangovers, shouting affectionate abuse and manic goodbyes. She’d have to start packing soon too, ready to leave that evening. She was feeling very sorry for herself and thinking what a sad and disappointing end this was to her three years at Warwick. She remembered the note she’d left for Adam and she cringed. He’d probably laughed when he saw it. Or chucked it away without even reading it. Had he already left for London, she wondered? And why was she such a complete and utter fool? She considered going back to bed, unable to face the day ahead. Where was Matt? She should get dressed, really, go and see if he was OK. He was certainly out for the count the night before.
But just as she was contemplating all this, a face appeared at her window and she screamed in shock – before realizing it was Adam.
‘Come on, open up! I’ve got a train to catch!’
Thrilled to see him and swept along by his audacity, she pulled back the sliding window and let him climb in, knocking things off her desk as he did so.
‘Just wanted to say goodbye,’ he said, cupping her face in his hands and planting a big smacker on her lips. It wasn’t romantic, or even particularly affectionate, more like stag-night banter, one guy to another – but Hetty would take anything he offered.
‘Did you get my note then?’ she said.
‘What note?’
‘I put it under your door.’
‘Haven’t been to sleep yet, bud. Just thought I’d call in before I skedaddled.’
Hetty didn’t want to know who he’d been with the night before; she didn’t want to ruin this rare and beautiful moment, instigated by Adam himself.
‘So take care, Sweaty Betty.’
She hated the pet name he’d coined for her, but now was not the time to complain. ‘You too, Adam.’
And he clambered back onto her desk and out through the window. ‘I’ll call you, yeah?’
‘Yeah.’
She watched him run off in the direction of Redelm, pleased that he’d at least made some sort of effort to say goodbye, but knowing in her heart that she’d never, ever, hear from him again.
‘Earth to Hetty? Hello? Come in?’
She’d been completely lost in thought and Matt was staring at her, bemused.
‘Sorry, what?’
‘I can’t get hold of Kate. She’s not answering her phone.’
‘Well, she’ll be at the casino, won’t she?’
‘What hotel did she say she was staying at, d’you remember?’
‘No – but what’s the big deal, Matt?’
‘Oh, I dunno. She left in such a rush this morning and I didn’t really ask her any details.’
‘Take the money and run, I would. Ten grand! Her job’s bonkers, isn’t it? That’s a full year’s salary to some people!’
Matt ignored her. ‘I’ll call Cynthia, I think. She’ll know.’
Hetty had met Kate’s agent on two occasions and thought she was terrifying both times. ‘Is that wise? Calling her out of hours like that?’
But Matt had already got through.
‘Hi Cynthia, it’s Matt Fenton. Sorry to call you on a Saturday night like this, but Kate forgot to tell me the name of the hotel she’s staying in …’
Hetty watched as the smile fell from Matt’s face.
38
‘If I go now, I’ll just about get away with it.’
‘You don’t have to get away with it.’
Callum ignored her. He didn’t want to start another discussion about where they would go from here. They were lying on the king-sized bed, his head on her shoulder, and she was stroking his arm.
‘I’ve put my number into your phone.’
‘When d’you do
that?’ He sat up, shocked.
‘When you were in the shower … It’ll be easier to stay in touch via mobiles. No more embarrassing phone calls to the school – sorry about that. Just for God’s sake make sure you delete any messages from me as soon as you’ve read them. When do you think you could next get away? I’m filming until—’
He cut her off. ‘Hang on, are you insane?’
She looked surprised more than hurt. ‘What?’
‘I don’t know what you think is going on here, but I can’t see you again, Kate.’ He paused, noticing the pain registering on her face and softening a little. ‘It’s impossible!’
‘It’s not.’
Sensing this was heading somewhere very dangerous, Callum got off the bed and started getting dressed, clocking his Dennis the Menace socks lying on the floor and remembering Belinda had given them to him as a stocking filler last Christmas. ‘I’ve got to go.’
She lay there, silently watching him dress. His body had aged well in seventeen years, and he’d lost none of the stamina he’d had at thirty-nine. She wondered if it was down to fitness, and having played rugby for all those years. Or, God forbid, whether he and Belinda still had such an active sex life that he was living proof of the saying ‘use it or lose it’. Kate remained remarkably calm as Callum put on his coat and picked up his car keys.
He’d expected a fight, or protests at least, but she said nothing, just smiled.
‘Right, well …’ he said.
‘Thanks for the shag?’ She teasingly finished his sentence.
‘Look, if things had been different, y’know …’
This time she watched as he squirmed, awkward, not knowing where to put himself. ‘Take care, yeah?’ And he headed for the door.
Kate didn’t move.
‘I’m under K for Kettley’s Garage in your contacts list. It does exist. In Portobello. In case Belinda should check your phone.’
‘I’m not gonna call you, Kate.’
‘Fair enough. Just delete my number then.’
He sighed and opened the door to leave.
Just as it closed behind him, she shouted, ‘I’ve still got yours though.’
And she pulled the duvet over her, beaming.
It was gone midnight when Callum let himself into the house. As he approached the front door, he saw through the window the chop-change blue and amber TV rays as they bounced against the living-room walls. Callum steeled himself. Belinda was obviously still awake.
He had his story ready – he’d been to the club but then went for a drink with Gary, who was having women troubles. Gary could always be depended on to lie for him. Not that he’d needed him to in the last seventeen years because, true to his word, Callum hadn’t so much as smiled at another woman since being given his second chance by Belinda.
His footsteps were weighty and reluctant as he walked to his fate like a condemned man. He barely made a sound as he closed the door behind him and stood in the hallway.
‘Belinda?’
No answer. He took a deep breath, put on a smile and opened the living-room door, probably a bit too keenly, launching straight in with his excuses before he could be attacked. ‘I know, I said one drink and now— Jesus!’ He’d only taken two steps into the room before he backed straight out again.
‘Dad!’
Ailsa, possibly naked, was clearly in a very private clinch with her boyfriend, Tom, also possibly naked – but Callum didn’t hang around long enough to find out. He really didn’t want that image in his head. His daughter, for God’s sake!
‘Jesus, get dressed, will you? And Tom, it’s time you went home.’
‘Sorry, Mr MacGregor.’
Like many of Ailsa’s friends, Tom had been taught by Callum when he was in Year Six at St Mary’s and still thought of his girlfriend’s father as ‘Mr MacGregor’.
Upstairs, Belinda had been woken by the kerfuffle and came out onto the landing in her pyjamas. ‘Callum, what’s going on?’
He made his way to the bedroom, temporarily forgetting his guilt about where he’d really been that night. His priority right now was the honour and protection of his seventeen-year-old daughter. ‘They were … y’know, having sex!’ he whispered, barely able to say the words.
Belinda looked at him and laughed. ‘Callum, she’s seventeen, love. They’ve been going out for over a year!’
‘So?!’
‘And she’s on the Pill!’
‘How do you know?!’
Belinda was getting hysterical, both entertained and surprised by Callum’s reaction to discovering that his only daughter had now grown up. She pulled him into the bedroom. ‘Hush! You’ve embarrassed them enough already, come to bed.’
Belinda shut the door behind them and watched Callum as he sat down and sighed. ‘Aw, love, it’s not the end of the world. They’re very in love, y’know.’
‘Ach, don’t tell me any details. It’s bad enough I saw them …’
‘Well, serves you right for coming home late. If you’d only stayed out for one like you said you would, then you’d never have walked into the lion’s den!’
‘Yeah, very funny.’
‘What happened to you, anyway?’ Belinda got back into bed, switching off her bedside light and settling under the covers as Callum reeled off his well-practised answer.
‘… Anyway he told me to say sorry. I said, tell her yourself when you see her!’
‘Mm-hmm.’ Belinda yawned, her eyes shut now, and Callum realized she wasn’t remotely interested in where he’d been tonight. He watched her for a minute drifting back to sleep, whilst downstairs the front door shut and Ailsa ran up the stairs. As she passed Callum and Belinda’s bedroom she made her annoyance quite clear: ‘That was SO humiliating!’
Callum smiled and called out quietly, ‘Night, Ails!’
As he started undressing, the insanity of his evening began to sink in. The second unbelievably erotic experience he’d shared with Kate in three days. What the fuck was he doing? His mobile buzzed in his pocket. He took it out as the screen lit up, announcing a text message from ‘Kettley’s Garage’. He glanced over at Belinda, snuffling and dreaming contentedly. He opened the text:
Filming in Newcastle next week.
Only 90 min on train from Edinburgh.
Come and see me.
Callum sighed and deleted the text.
39
Not wanting to push her luck, Kate made sure she was on the first train back to London on Sunday morning. She knew that she was taking a massive risk telling Matt such a huge lie about the casino – that if he really wanted to he could look into it further and catch her out. But this only made the whole thing more thrilling, and although she knew it was wrong, she couldn’t help but feel turned on by it. She was a lost and shameful cause. She knew that now. But what was done was done, and the truth was, all she wanted was to see Callum again. And she didn’t care who got hurt in the process. Even poor, lovely Matt.
In the early days, Kate had made a big show about the importance of being honest with each other about their pasts, especially if they were to get married. It was Kate who’d harped on about how vital it was that neither of them had any skeletons in the cupboard to be brought out and dusted down at some later date, causing mayhem and upset and hurt. As a result, there was nothing she didn’t know about Matt’s history with women. And when he confessed all, in truth she was delighted that there’d been so many – joking that it made her feel less of a slapper.
In return, Kate had told him everything too – from Scott Duncan, who she’d shown her trainer-bra’d pubescent boobs to in top juniors, to James Randell, the twice-married producer of Lost in May, the TV series she was filming when she met Matt in his gallery that day nearly seven years ago.
Yes, Matt knew about every one of the men in Kate’s past.
Every single one, except Callum.
She sighed and banished the guilt, plunging herself back into denial.
The train pulled into Eusto
n at midday and by one o’clock Kate was in Mario’s on King Street, buying delicious fresh salads and pizza to take home for lunch. She’d spoken briefly to Matt when the train was just outside Peterborough and told him her plans, mustering excitement and enthusiasm for their family Sunday ahead and apologizing again for eating into their weekend. She thought Matt seemed a little distant on the phone, but put it down to her paranoid imagination and headed briskly back to the house. Despite the bite in the air, the sun was shining weakly and the day was actually quite pleasant for November.
Breezing into the kitchen, Kate saw Matt outside in the back garden with Tallulah, who was bouncing up and down with Panda on her much-loved trampoline. She put the pizza in the oven to keep warm, went to the fridge and poured two large glasses of Sauvignon Blanc, convincing herself it was because Sundays were meant for relaxing but knowing deep down that she needed Dutch courage to get her through.
Holding a glass in each hand, she elbowed open the French doors that led into the garden. She hadn’t noticed it when she’d first arrived, but now she could see that Matt was smoking. Nothing wrong with that per se, except that he’d given up three years ago.
‘Shouldn’t you be doing that behind a bike shed?’ she shouted.
He turned, surprised to see her. ‘Oh. Hello.’
She thought his face looked pale and sad, but wondered if she was looking for trouble when it wasn’t really there.
‘Yeah, just fancied one.’ He let her kiss his cheek as she handed him the wine. ‘Thanks.’
‘Mummy, Mummy, look at us!’ Tallulah was in her element.
‘Hey, darling! Did you miss me?’
‘Yes!’ And she carried on bouncing up and down.
Kate took a big slug of wine. ‘God, that’s nice.’
They stood there for a moment watching Tallulah, listening to her delighted giggles and shouts of ‘WEEEEEEEEEEEE!’
Aware that Matt was behaving oddly but choosing to ignore it, Kate lit up a cigarette herself and started wittering nervously. ‘I was thinking we should maybe go to Vegas, y’know. Seeing all the blackjack tables last night and roulette – it’s given me a taste for it. I think you’d like it. Have you ever been to—’