My Single Friend

by Jane Costello

  Chapter 92

  There’s one word on the front: ‘Lucy’. Seeing my name written in Henry’s distinctive handwriting makes me gasp. With my heart racing, I fumble to open it and head for the balcony. I sink into a chair, scanning the letter, unable to devour its contents fast enough.

  Dear Lucy,

  I’ve written this letter in my mind more times than I can count. Yet, putting pen to paper is even more difficult than I thought. This is the eighth draft and I’m still not entirely happy. I thought about quoting poetry or literature, but nothing seems to explain the situation, so it’s down to me instead. There’s one problem: what do you say to a woman you’ve been in love with your entire life?

  From the moment I met you, Lucy, I’ve felt enriched. Life has been happier, deeper, immeasurably more fun. Quite simply, you are the best person I’ve ever known. The best.

  For a long time, my feelings have gone beyond friendship but I think – or hope – I’ve done a decent job of keeping them to myself. I’ve always known the romantic love I felt wasn’t reciprocated and I could live with that. Being your friend has been no poor substitute – in fact, it’s been a privilege.

  It was because of our friendship that I’ve never dared to reveal how I feel. But there comes a point when you can’t pretend any longer. That’s why I’m leaving, Lucy. As much as it’s torturing me, that’s the real reason I’m going on this trip. My hope is that, when I return, enough time will have passed for me to look at you as you look at me: through the eyes of a friend.

  That said, if there’s one thing Project Henry has taught me, it’s to take a few risks. So I couldn’t leave without letting you know what I’ve concealed for my entire adult life.

  I love you.

  There, it’s out: three unspoken words that have been on the tip of my tongue for as long as I can remember. I can’t imagine what you’ll think when you read them. Will you think I’ve gone mad? Or just that I’m sad? Or maybe (I hope) you’ll be happy that I love you – The Real You.

  Sorry to bring up The Real You again. I don’t mean to get the last word. But you already know I think you should let her get out more – she’s a more amazing person than you’ll ever know.

  Henry xxx

  I read the letter over and over again, unable to catch my breath, my cheeks wet and raw. Finally, I stumble to the bathroom, where I stare into the mirror at my mess of a face.

  ‘God, you’ve screwed up, Lucy Tyler.’ Saying it out loud makes it feel gratifyingly harsh. ‘The love of your life has been in front of your nose for twenty years and you’ve never noticed. Worse than that . . . he loves you! He loves you, but he’s buggered off round the world – to try to get over you.’

  I unravel a piece of loo roll and hold it to my nose, which is so red it looks as if it’s been sandpapered. I am mid-blow when I hear something.

  Knocking.

  I stop and gawp at myself.

  Dominique had her keys this morning and the only other people who know my new address are Mum and Dad, who are still in hospital.

  Could it be . . .

  Of course it couldn’t. He’s on the plane, the woman at the airport said so. Get a grip on reality, Lucy. Stop fantasizing and act like an adult.

  The knocking starts again.

  Despite myself, my heart is hammering as I head to the door.

  It cannot be Henry. It’s not possible.

  I take a deep breath and open the door.

  Chapter 93

  The second I see him I am struck by how handsome Henry is, how irresistibly sexy. I’m looking at a man who, thanks to Project Henry, is the ultimate manifestation of female desire, who turns heads wherever he goes.

  But that’s not why I love him. It’s not the clothes or haircut, the body or face.

  The Henry I love is the funny, clever, loyal and lovely person I met all those years ago. That’s the Henry I long for; the Henry I can’t spend another day without. The trimmings are irrelevant.

  ‘Hello, Lucy.’

  He smiles and it sends a surge of hope through my veins, turning my legs to blancmange and killing my ability to speak.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Yes. I . . . yes.’ Emotion rushes through me and my heartbeat gallops in my chest, thundering in my ears. ‘Just surprised to see you.’

  ‘And . . . happy?’

  I nod, tears clouding my eyes. ‘Very happy,’ I croak.

  He looks at my hands, clutching his letter. ‘You got my note then.’

  I nod again.

  ‘So, was it a surprise? What I said?’

  ‘Yes. No. I don’t know.’

  Oh brilliant, Lucy. ‘Why are you here?’ I manage. ‘I thought you’d be on the plane.’

  ‘I’m supposed to be. But I got a phone call after I’d gone through security that put a different take on things.’

  ‘A phone call?’

  ‘From Dominique.’

  I swallow.

  ‘She told me a few things that at first I didn’t believe. I thought it was her idea of a joke.’

  ‘What did she tell you?’

  He looks into my eyes. ‘She told me that my feelings, the feelings I explained in my letter . . . She told me that you felt . . .’

  ‘Exactly the same?’ I offer.

  He breaks into an enormous smile, illuminating his face. ‘It took me a while to believe her. In fact, I’m still not sure I believe her. But I couldn’t get on the plane without finding out. So – here I am.’

  I hear myself giggling with hysteria and sheer, unconditional joy. It feels ridiculous but I can’t help it.

  ‘Here you are,’ I whisper. ‘God, Henry, I’m so glad.’

  Unable to hold back, I fling myself towards him and he wraps his arms around me. They are powerful and muscular, pulling my waist into his so our bodies are pressed resolutely together.

  We kiss breathlessly as I close my eyes and feel his sumptuous lips melt into mine. His tongue is warm and soft, his breath sweet. As a storm gathers in my insides, I submit to his embrace. We kiss in a way friends aren’t supposed to – and we do it for I don’t know how long, right here in my new hall. He explores my mouth, kisses the skin behind my ear, caresses the nape of my neck with the smooth pads of his fingertips.

  Then he grabs my hand and brings it to his lips, kissing the underside of my wrist. He kisses my palms, my knuckles, the bony bit at the bottom of my arm. Our fingers entwine and he gazes into my eyes. I’m overwhelmed. Then something strikes me. I don’t want to ruin the moment by bringing it up, but I have to.

  ‘What about Erin?’

  He takes a deep breath. ‘Erin and I have had a chat. A brief chat, admittedly – but that was all it took. Erin’s going to be fine.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘When Dominique spoke to me, she told me to ask Erin about Darren.’

  ‘Ah,’ I say.

  ‘It was never serious between Erin and me, Lucy – you know that, surely.’

  ‘I didn’t know that.’

  ‘I think we’ve done Erin a favour,’ he says. ‘I left her and Darren reminiscing about university in the airport bar. I’d put money on them getting together before they finish touring Europe.’

  I feel a sudden urge to lean in and kiss him again. As my lips meet his, he takes me by surprise and sweeps me into his arms.

  ‘Henry, what are you doing?’ I giggle. ‘I must weigh the equivalent of half a blue whale.’

  ‘I promise you, Lucy, you don’t,’ he grins, kicking open the bedroom door. ‘A small Orca at most.’

  ‘Oh thank you,’ I say in mock indignation. ‘And here’s me thinking you really were in love with me.’

  He flings me onto the bed and climbs above me, pinning me down.

  ‘I really am in love with you.’

  I smile. ‘Glad to hear it. Because I’m not sure what I’d have done if you weren’t.’

  ‘Does that mean you’re willing to make a go of it?’ he asks, between kisses. ‘With a geek like
me?’

  I grab his T-shirt and pull him towards me. ‘More than willing,’ I whisper. ‘But what about you? Are you willing to make a go of it with The Real Me?’

  He smiles. ‘I always said The Real You was my kind of girl.’

  Epilogue

  If anyone had told me six months ago that Dominique and Dave would become an item I’d have questioned their mental stability. She’s sophisticated, intelligent and witty. He farts like a flatulent camel and is as refined as crude oil.

  Yet they got together two weeks after the fire, when Dominique expressed a sudden and mysterious desire to join me when I popped round to Dave’s to loan him my Gavin and Stacey DVDs. I stayed for fifteen minutes. Dominique was there for three days.

  Her theory is that I’m blind to Dave’s charms because he’s my brother. That he’s fun, loving, amusing and attentive. She also tried to tell me that he’s great in bed but I stuck my fingers in my ears and went ‘lalalalalala’ until she stopped.

  As for Dave, he’s smitten. Honestly, she’s turned him into a puppy dog – albeit a not very cute one. Despite my reservations, they seem to be enjoying themselves. And for the first time, I know Dave’s found a girlfriend to keep him on his toes.

  Erin and Darren did indeed become a couple before they finished touring Europe. In fact, they were so engrossed in each other at the airport bar they almost missed the plane. Fortunately, the flight was late and they made it to Madrid, where Erin confessed that she’d harboured a crush on Darren since university and he admitted the feeling was mutual. The gang is currently in Thailand, where they’ve been for over a month, unable to drag themselves away from the beach.

  Mum and Dad bunked in with Dominique and me for a month before finding a place to rent while they house-hunt. They were the longest four weeks and five days of my life. I know that isn’t a nice thing to say, given that I nearly lost them, and I’d like to stress that I adore my parents. But they’re significantly more adorable when not cluttering up my living room.

  It didn’t help that Mum resolved to ‘focus on her career’ soon after moving in and stop cleaning like a lunatic. I’d have been 100 per cent supportive of this, had she not been living in my flat at the time. Dad also turned over a new leaf and, since the fire, has bought Mum flowers once a week, without fail. He’s also bought a home paint-balling kit, a pair of night vision goggles and – my neighbours’ favourite – an electronic drum kit. Some things never change.

  Henry and I made a big decision after we got together and packed in our jobs. It was risky, irresponsible and the best thing we’ve ever done.

  The shock move (and it shocked everyone) came about after Henry was headhunted by an international charity to work in a clinic in Zanzibar. The charity is well-funded, backed by some seriously wealthy philanthropists, and is conducting world-leading research into malaria. Because of this, it was obvious Henry would make his mark here, but I’ve been surprised at how useful I can be too.

  The only thing I thought I knew about is public relations – and there’s not much call for that round here. So I’ve been teaching English to six- and seven-year-olds at a local school. My pupils are bright, full of life, endlessly mischievous and utterly adorable.

  I’m in constant touch with the gang at home through Facebook, so I was relieved to discover that things are going well with Dominique’s temporary new flatmate – Peter, the new IT guy from work. He’s a lot tidier than me (which I’m sure is a relief), and she’s apparently taken it upon herself to give him a bit of a makeover.

  Life for Henry and me couldn’t be more different from back home but we love it. We love our simple but beautiful fisherman’s house, minutes from the Indian Ocean. We love playing football on the beach with the local kids, though my goalkeeping skills aren’t up to much. We love the random acts of kindness we receive every day, from baskets of fruit delivered to our door, to the simple but lavish dinners our neighbours constantly treat us to.

  We’ve only been here for three months, so it’s early days and there’s no doubt we’ll return to the UK sooner or later. In the meantime, there’s nowhere to buy Kurt Geiger shoes and my diet is a distant memory. But, for once, I’m doing something so amazing, I don’t need to make it up.