One Step Closer to You

by Alice Peterson

  I have no idea if Ben is attracted to me in that way. I’ve noticed a definite closeness, a few jokes about shagging, and he’s determined to put me off this single-parent dating website, but he hasn’t actually asked me out on a date. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about our camping trip, replaying the two of us dancing, his hand on my back, both of us laughing and feeling so free. I can tell him anything, and equally he can talk to me about anything too, and neither one of us feels judged. But surely, by now, something would have happened if Ben and I were into one another? As Janey had said, we spent a whole week together and if Ben did feel something for me, then that would have been the time to show it.

  Nat distracts my thoughts, asking if I came to the wedding with anyone.

  ‘Ben,’ I say, gesturing to him. I tell Nat we went on a beach holiday recently to Cornwall, with our children.

  ‘How long have you been seeing him?’ Nat asks, faint disappointment in his tone, or am I imagining it?

  ‘Oh, we’re not together.’

  ‘Right,’ he says, perking up, but looking mildly confused.

  I turn to him. ‘Do you think men and woman can be just friends?’

  ‘No way, not if the bloke finds the woman really attractive, like When Harry Met Sally.’

  ‘So it’s possible if he thinks she’s unattractive?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He looks at me. ‘But you’re not ugly.’

  ‘Thanks, I think. So you don’t have a single friend that’s a woman?’

  He has to ponder on this. ‘One. Beth, but she’s a bit funny looking.’

  ‘Funny looking?’

  ‘She’s got these …’ He places his hands behind his ears, wiggles them, ‘sticky-out ears. To be honest, I mainly hang out with the lads. My industry is pretty male-dominated. I couldn’t go on holiday with an attractive woman and lie next to her on the beach, see her in a bikini and rub suncream on her back and not, you know, want to do it.’

  Ben didn’t blink twice at me in my spotty bikini, and he slapped the suncream on my back as if it were Polyfilla.

  ‘Nicely put,’ says the man sitting on my other side. He’s Paul’s brother. ‘Sorry, couldn’t help eavesdropping. I was really close to this girl, Annie, right, and we’d been friends through college until we blew it one night getting drunker than usual and ended up in bed.’

  ‘Ah yes, alcohol always has a way of becoming involved,’ agrees Nat, asking me again if I’m sure I don’t want a drink.

  ‘Did you regret it?’ I ask.

  ‘Bitterly. We lost that trust, that sense of ease. We wasted something really special for nothing but a stupid drunken roll in the sack.’

  You see. Paul’s brother gets it. It’s too bad if others don’t.

  ‘I have lots of friends who are men,’ says a blonde-haired woman in her forties placed opposite me. ‘I get different things from both. I love my girly friends, but I also like a male perspective.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ dismisses the man sitting next to her. ‘Sorry, but there’s no such thing as friendship between men and women, there’s always an imbalance somewhere.’

  Soon comments are flying across our end of the table, the debate heating up.

  ‘Men can’t be just friends. We need more. We’re only human.’

  ‘Of course they can.’

  ‘What if that male friend has a partner though, or a wife?’ says Paul’s brother.

  ‘Good point. If Ben were dating, I’d have to take a step back. We wouldn’t be able to play chess at midnight,’ I say, thinking of our evenings in Cornwall.

  ‘You play chess at midnight?’ asks Nat. ‘That is weird. Why not strip poker?’

  I laugh.

  ‘I bet you if Ben started dating,’ says Nat, ‘you’d turn into a green-eyed monster.’

  ‘Keep your voice down,’ I mutter. ‘No. I’d be happy for him.’

  ‘Well then,’ concludes Nat, ‘if Ben isn’t into you, you can take comfort knowing he thinks you’re a bit funny looking.’

  Paul comes down to our end of the table and asks if we’re all happy, before refilling wine glasses.

  ‘We’re talking about men and women and if they can be just friends,’ says Nat.

  Paul nods. ‘They can be.’

  ‘See.’ I nudge Nat.

  ‘As long as the man’s gay,’ Paul winks, ‘or the woman’s funny looking.’

  *

  At the end of the speeches, Janey stands up. I can see she’s flushed from champagne and wine. ‘I know it’s not normal for the wife to say anything …’

  Everyone in the room cheers.

  ‘But I’ve never done things normally. I love this man.’ She turns to Paul, ‘And I’m so excited to be your wife.’ We all stand up and raise our glasses to Janey and Paul.

  Soon the tables are cleared and music is playing.

  ‘Mercifully short speeches,’ Ben mutters as we watch a couple of Paul’s friends dancing, including Tatiana and Nat. ‘What was Nat like?’

  ‘Nice.’

  ‘What were you talking about?’

  ‘Oh, this and that. How about you and the dentist?’

  ‘Nothing I don’t know about root canal treatment now.’

  ‘Ouch.’

  We watch Nat and Paul’s brother, both of them competing for the world’s worst dancer. They remind me of Hugo on the dance floor. ‘When you’re drunk you dance as if nobody is watching,’ says Ben, ‘and when you’re sober, you should still dance as if nobody is watching. Shall we?’ He offers me his arm.

  Ben and I dance. We dance for the rest of the evening, me thinking how I shall remember every single moment of this wedding when I wake up tomorrow morning, and how lovely it is to be in the arms of a man who can dance.

  At the end of the evening, on our way to the car, Ben and I notice Nat and Tatiana stumbling across the road hailing a cab. The taxi pulls over and they hop onto the back seat together. ‘That turned out well,’ I say.

  ‘I’m guessing I was meant to be going home with the dentist, so that turned out well for me too.’

  Inside the car, Ben turns on the engine. ‘Are we ever going to meet anyone, Ben, if we spend all this time together?’ I try not to sound serious, but deep down I know now Janey has a point.

  ‘I like spending time with you,’ he says, driving us back home. ‘I don’t want to be with anyone else.’

  I look out of the window. ‘I hope the children behaved for Aunt Viv.’

  ‘You don’t get it, do you?’

  ‘Get what?’

  He’s gripping the steering wheel now as he stares ahead. ‘I have … oh, God, I don’t know how to say this … I’ve wanted to say it for some time.’

  ‘Don’t,’ I say, panic growing inside me.

  ‘I have feelings for you.’ He turns to me.

  ‘But Ben … ’

  ‘I have to tell you how I feel.’ He pulls over at the side of the road, switches the engine off.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I keep on playing the fast-forward button. I want things to stay the same.

  ‘I’ve never felt this way …’

  ‘But we’re friends, good friends.’

  ‘No! It’s more than that. I’ve fallen in love with you, Polly.’

  ‘But …’ I stop, lost as to what to say.

  ‘You can’t tell me that the thought hasn’t crossed your mind once?’

  ‘Yes, yes it has.’ I turn back to Ben. ‘But …’

  ‘There you go again. I hate the word but.’ He looks at me beseechingly. ‘We know each other so well, there’s no pretence, no secrets, and …’ His hand touches my cheek. ‘When you’re in the room no one else stands a chance.’ He smiles at me, deep affection in his eyes. ‘What’s stopping us?’

  I edge away from him. It feels wrong.

  ‘I’ve wanted to tell you for some time,’ he continues, ‘but I …’

  ‘Please! Stop! I’m sorry if I’ve led you on, if I’ve given you the wrong impression, the last thing I want
to do is hurt you, but …’

  ‘No more ‘buts’, Polly,’ he cuts me off. ‘I’m sorry.’ He turns on the engine, stares ahead. ‘I thought maybe you felt the same. Clearly I was wrong.’

  I feel pain swell in my stomach as we drive home in silence.

  *

  When I wake up the following morning I wish I wasn’t so clear headed. The memory of the night before rushes back to haunt me. I want to pull the duvet over my head and stay in bed all day. I can’t face seeing Ben and Emily at school.

  Aunt Viv knew something was up last night. The moment we walked through the door she said, ‘You two look as if you’ve been to a funeral, not a wedding.’ Her smile vanished when neither of us said a word. Ben simply thanked her and said he’d wake up Emily and then be on his way.

  I toss and turn, kick my legs against the mattress. How could I have been so stupid? How do I feel about Ben? I feel so guilty about the way I spoke to him. Louis jumps onto my bed, asking if he can play dressing-up games before school.

  ‘Not today.’

  ‘Can penguins fly, Mum?’

  I bite my lip. ‘No. They swim. They fly underwater.’

  ‘Why can’t they fly in the air like other birds?’

  I want to scream. Instead I say, ‘I don’t know, sweetheart. Now go and get dressed and we’ll make some breakfast.’

  Food is the last thing on my mind. I couldn’t eat a thing.

  As we’re about to head out the door, Louis decides to tell me he needs to take something into school beginning with the letter ‘P’.

  ‘Why tell me now? We’ve had all morning!’

  His chin wobbles. He begins to cry as I storm around the house trying to find something, anything will do. I grab a colouring-in pencil before demanding we go right this minute otherwise we’ll be late.

  As we walk down Primrose Hill Louis is still crying. As I attempt to calm him down and say sorry, all I can think about is facing Ben and the panic grows inside me again.

  At the school gates I bump into Jim.

  ‘Polly? Are you all right?’

  ‘Fine, but I’m in a real rush.’ I kiss Louis goodbye before heading to work as fast as I can. That voice inside my head persists. ‘Drink,’ it tempts me. ‘Go on, have a drink. You can have one now, can’t you? You’ve grown up, Polly. You haven’t touched a drop for years! Good on you! See, you can be responsible. You have a job and a home. You pay your rent and bills. You love your son. Surely you can have just one? Don’t you deserve one little drink? It would help take the edge off, give you courage to face Ben.’

  I open my bag, hunt for my mobile. I call her.

  ‘Slow down,’ Neve says. ‘Remember H.A.L.T. Hungry angry lonely tired. You’re probably feeling all these things right now?’

  ‘I’m not hungry. I feel sick. I’m so angry with myself. I don’t know how I feel about Ben. I’m confused …’ I see my friendship with Ben, so precious, crumbling into tiny pieces.

  ‘Polly, stop. Take a deep breath.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Neve,’ I mutter.

  ‘Listen, you’ve called me instead of having a drink, that’s good.’

  ‘But I could die for one. I haven’t felt this way in a long time, it’s terrifying.’

  ‘A craving should only last for about half an hour,’ she reassures me. ‘Drink loads of water. Eat something sweet when you get to work. Pray to your Higher Power for strength. This seems like the worst imaginable thing right now, but the answer doesn’t lie in drink. Can you get to a meeting today?’

  ‘Can I come and see you after I pick Louis up?’

  ‘Sure. Remember, Polly, the important thing to do when we think it might be a good idea to have a drink is to play the tape forward. So we have a drink … Then what? We have another? Almost definitely. You know as well as I do, it can never be “just one”. Then we might decide to go to a bar and pick up some random man,’ she says, making me think of how Matthew and I began. ‘Look at where that one drink will take you. Is it a place you want to go?’

  34

  2008

  The following morning, after my first AA meeting, I am sitting at Neve’s kitchen table, drinking my third cup of coffee that day, Joey, her black cat, stretched out on the island.

  Nervously I read the Twelve Steps.

  We admitted we were powerless over alcohol – that our lives had become unmanageable.

  Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.

  Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God …

  I stop abruptly. ‘Neve, I’m not religious. I’m not even sure I believe in God.’

  She sits down beside me as if expecting this. ‘Polly, I can’t stress enough that AA makes no religious demands on you. AA was founded by Christians but it’s open to everyone. Our home group that you came to yesterday will be made up of Christians, others agnostic, a Buddhist, Harry prays to the angels. Everyone is different. AA merely advocates appealing to a Higher Power, a belief in a power greater than oneself. It’s not about going to church every Sunday. AA is not some cult either. You can leave whenever you like. If you look at Step Three, there are three important words. Can you see them?’

  I read the Step out loud. ‘To the care of God as we understand Him.’ All I can see is the word ‘God’.

  Neve helps me out. ‘As we understand Him. We only recover from our addiction when we admit our powerlessness and the need for “the God of our understanding” to help free us.’

  ‘What’s your God?’

  ‘At school I used to picture God in the sky sitting on a puff of clouds, dressed in shrouds, but now God is a shaft of sunlight that you see through the trees, or it’s seeing my two children eat their vegetables.’ She smiles. ‘When I hit my rock bottom and finally admitted I needed help, I began to hear this strong and loving voice that over time helped the madness, the insanity going on in my head. I had a problem with food as well as drink and drugs,’ she confides. ‘“If you eat cereal out of a mug instead of a bowl it doesn’t count,” said this gremlin in my head, or “Throw the food in the dustbin, Neve, you don’t need it.” Then I’d wake up with that bloody voice telling me to eat it, so I’d rush out in the middle of the night and fish the food out of the bin. Something has to give! This madness is unsustainable. Praying helped me get moments of sanity and gradually I began to hear a much calmer voice guiding me through this wilderness. People might laugh …’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘A voice told me to talk to my father, say sorry before it was too late. I visited him in hospital and he died only hours later. Cynics will think it was just a coincidence, he was ill anyway, but I believe it’s something deeper than that. Some people think only they know best, they want to quit their own way. Well, that’s fine, but the thing you need to ask yourself is, “Can I stay sober alone?” We all need help sometimes, Polly.’

  35

  @GateauAuChocolat Autumnal flavours today … Butternut squash soup, aubergine, feta & thyme tart & Polly’s banana cake!

  I haven’t seen Ben for two days and I’ve missed him. I need to sort out this mess. I can’t keep on running away. I don’t want to go back to the old Polly.

  The shop is quiet. Mary-Jane is washing up in her Marigolds. Aunt Viv is eating her soup. ‘What’s wrong, Polly? Sit down.’ She indicates to the chair next to her.

  I decide it’s time to tell her exactly what’s going on. She listens. I can tell Mary-Jane’s ears are pricked too.

  ‘Don’t keep on avoiding him, Polly,’ Aunt Viv says.

  I nod. ‘I feel so bad. There he was, confessing he loved me, and I threw it back in his face.’

  ‘Darling, are you sure you don’t feel the same way?’

  I feel far from sure. My head is spinning, nothing is clear to me anymore.

  ‘After he told you, why did you want to have a drink?’ she asks gently.

  ‘I was scared, panicked, unprepared for it. I don’t like not feeling in co
ntrol, I don’t trust myself when I feel that way.’

  ‘I understand. Even now, after all these years, I find change or anything out of the ordinary makes me have that moment too. Listen, tell me if I’m wrong, but maybe you’re scared of being vulnerable again? It’s easier to cruise along and not put yourself out there. You’re nervous of entering a relationship where it might actually mean something.’

  ‘I’ve had a few relationships since Matt.’

  ‘Yes, but both with men who weren’t going to break your heart, and if you’re honest with yourself, I think that’s exactly why you picked them. Ben has broken down your defences.’

  I’m quiet.

  ‘What else did he say to you that night?’

  Tears fill my eyes thinking how much I must have hurt him. ‘“When you’re in the room no one else stands a chance.”’

  Mary-Jane takes her hands out of the sink and heads towards me with grim determination. ‘You have this very nice man saying he loves you and here you are … all sad, as if it’s the end of the world, boo hoo! Happiness doesn’t come along often, so when it does …’ she thrusts her Marigolds towards us, warm soapy water spraying on to my face, ‘you grab it, you stupid girl.’

  ‘Mary-Jane is right,’ says Aunt Viv. ‘I’ve made more than my fair share of mistakes, but when I met Jean, as annoying and French as he can be …’

  ‘I heard that,’ he calls from upstairs.

  ‘I took a chance on this place and on him, and boy am I glad I did.’

  ‘Thanks. I heard that too.’

  I stand up. ‘You’re right.’

  ‘So go!’ Mary-Jane shoos me away like an annoying fly. ‘I can finish up here.’

  Just as I’m about to call up to Jean to ask if it’s all right to leave, ‘Go, Polly!’ he says. ‘Bonne chance!’