Rubbish Boyfriends

by Jessie Jones

‘I work for Camden Council. I think I know the type.’

  ‘And what type were they?’

  ‘Bigots,’ Kirsty said, answering for her girlfriend.

  ‘Look, Archie’s not a bigot,’ I protested. ‘He’s completely “live and let live”.’

  ‘Hey, don’t take it so personally. It’s not like he’s your boyfriend or anything …’ She trailed off as she registered the look on my face. ‘Hang on, he’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?’

  I nodded weakly.

  ‘Whoops, me and my big American gob. Sorry. I’d better get the drinks in. Same again, guys?’

  The subject of Archie didn’t come up again.

  Several weeks later, having served his notice period, Max arrived. Emily thought the fact that her high-flyer boyfriend had jacked it all in when he was at the top of his career was truly romantic and proved they were meant to be together. I thought it only proved he was totally incapable of doing anything without her to hold his hand, but what did I know?

  He came straight to the flat from the airport, dumping his bags in the middle of the living room and throwing himself at Emily. It was like Lassie Comes Home. No, more like Lassie Comes Home Having Not Eaten for a Year and Finds an Entire Sack of Winalot Spread Out on the Living Room Floor.

  I went into the kitchen because I understand a couple’s need for ‘space’ and I’m tactful like that.

  ‘When you two have finished mauling each other, do you want a sandwich?’ I yelled through the door.

  No reply.

  I wondered if I should ask Kirsty and Ruby out for a drink. At least they had occasional conversation breaks between eating each other’s faces.

  They came up for air eventually and then the three of us talked. Or rather, Emily and I listened to Max talk. He was on something called gardening leave. It took me a few minutes to twig that this had nothing to do with herbaceous borders and luckily I didn’t blunder in with, ‘But Max, you don’t have a garden at your fashionable Clerkenwell loft-style apartment.’

  Max told us he had big plans. The fact that he wouldn’t be working for six months would give him ample time to reinvest the squillions he’d earned in Japan and turn them into mega-squillions. Apparently, this meant finding the right start-up, one that needed an injection of venture capital and blah, blah, blah …

  I looked at Emily to see if she was as glazed over as I was, but her eyes were wide, bright and shiny. Jesus, what had he done to her? It wouldn’t have surprised me if she’d whipped out a copy of the FT from her handbag and started quoting share prices or something.

  Not that I wanted to change the subject or anything but … ‘Are you going back to yours tonight?’ I asked Max as casually as I could.

  ‘No, we’ll stay here if that’s OK with you,’ Max told me like I had a choice. ‘My place has been empty for so long it’ll probably take the cleaners all day and all night to get it habitable.’

  Would it have killed Emily to pop round there with a duster and a can of Mr Sheen? I wondered.

  I kept my mouth shut and consoled myself with the fact that it was only one more night. They’d be gone the next day. It really couldn’t come soon enough.

  Archie turned up as Max and Emily were loading their cases into a cab. We’d seen each other a lot since the night he’d turned up at the pub and any suspicious thoughts I’d harboured had disappeared the next time we met when he insisted on telling me every tortuous detail of his negotiations with the council. Honestly, it was so dull you could not possibly make that stuff up.

  As I introduced him to Emily and Max, it struck me that it was the first time he’d met any of my friends and also that I’d met none of his. Well, we’d been so into each other we’d had no time for anyone else. New love’s like that, isn’t it?

  As the three of them stood in the living room looking at each other awkwardly, I said, ‘Archie, this is Emily, my best friend ever. Oh, and this is Max … They’re just leaving.’ I tried to keep the note of triumph out of my voice on that last bit.

  Max instinctively stuck out his hand to give Archie’s a firm City-type shake. Was it my imagination or did Archie hesitate for a moment before offering his own? I didn’t get a chance to dwell on it because Emily – always the affectionate type – flung herself at my boyfriend for a hug.

  ‘I can’t believe I haven’t met you till now,’ she gushed. ‘Dayna’s told me so much about you. You’re obviously amazing because she’s been walking around on a cloud since I came home and she can’t stop going on about you and …’

  It went on for quite a bit.

  When she finally finished and Archie managed to peel her off him, he gave her a blank look, similar to Jack Nicholson’s expression at the end of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest when he’s had half his brain removed. Yes, I thought, she can be a bit overpowering at times. But as I looked at him it struck me that there was more to it than that, though I couldn’t put my finger on anything.

  ‘Let’s make a move, Em,’ Max nagged. ‘That cab’s got the meter running.’

  It was goodbye time. Having spent the previous few weeks fuming over Emily’s presence, I suddenly felt devastated. My best friend ever in the whole wide world was leaving me. Again. I’ve never been good at goodbyes, but Emily was worse. She started crying first.

  ‘God, look at the two of you,’ Max said. ‘And anyway, knowing you both, you’ll be on the phone to each other as soon as we get there.’

  Blokes. They just don’t get that whole talking-on-the-phone-about-nothing-for-several-hours-a-day thing, do they? If a woman waited until she actually had something to talk about before she phoned her friends, well, then she’d be a man, wouldn’t she?

  After they’d gone I made coffee and wondered what Archie had thought of them. He’d seemed awkward, but maybe he was always like that with new people – though he’d been the complete opposite of awkward when he’d met me at the wedding. Maybe he just didn’t like them. Frankly, I didn’t care too much what he thought of Max, but it was important that he liked Emily. She’d been a part of my life for so long that she felt like a part of me.

  ‘So, what did you think of Emily?’ I asked when I rejoined him in the living room.

  ‘Seemed all right,’ he said, not sounding entirely convinced.

  ‘You didn’t like her, did you?’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. You just looked a bit strange when she said hello.’

  ‘Hello? It was a bit more OTT than that. She’s very upfront, your mate. I guess I’m a bit English about things like that. Where’s she from, by the way?’

  ‘Round here,’ I told him. ‘We went to school together.’

  ‘No, I mean where’s her family from. She’s a bit … dusky.’

  ‘Oh, yeah, her mum’s mixed race, half Jamaican, I think. Or a quarter. I can never remember. Pretty, isn’t she?’

  He didn’t answer and I wondered what he was thinking. Maybe he fancied her. I was used to that. Emily was gorgeous and I hadn’t met a heterosexual male who didn’t fancy her. She had a head of lush black ringlets and matching dark eyes and full, very kissable lips. No wonder Max couldn’t keep his hands off her. They suited each other, actually. Not only was he undeniably good looking, but also his black eyes and slightly olive complexion matched hers.

  ‘You just seemed a bit funny with them, that’s all,’ I said, filling the silence.

  ‘Didn’t think much of him, to be honest. Jewish, isn’t he?’

  ‘Blimey. How could you tell?’

  ‘Oh, let me see … The dark skin, the nose and the career in international finance. I’d say they’re pretty strong pointers. And he was a tightwad.’

  ‘How do you figure that?’ I was astonished. Yes, Max was careful with his money – unless he was spending it on Emily – but I didn’t understand how Archie could have worked it out.

  ‘The way he worried over the meter running on his cab. It’s all trademark Jew.’

  I felt mor
e than a bit uncomfortable with that. ‘You haven’t got anything against Jewish people, have you?’ I laughed.

  I fully expected him to throw a cushion at me and tell me not to be so stupid and that Seinfeld was the best sitcom ever, which proved that, as well as having brilliant heads for business and being amazingly hospitable, Jews were also the funniest people in the world.

  But he didn’t do any of that. Instead he screwed up his nose and said, ‘I could never be friends with a Jew. I’ve never met one you could trust.’

  I felt myself squirm. Had he really just said that? What was the problem with Jewish people? Well, there was the whole cutting the foreskins off baby boys thing, which didn’t really bear thinking about … But every culture had a few bizarre traditions, didn’t it? I mean, look at the Christians (of which I was one, sort of) sipping wine and pretending it’s the blood of a bloke who’s been dead for two thousand years. What would visiting aliens make of that? No, I decided, Jews were no better or worse than anyone else.

  Maybe Archie had had some sort of bad experience with a Jewish person. Yes, it must have been something like that, I decided. Of course, I should have asked him and got to the bottom of it, but I didn’t. The whole thing was making me feel uncomfortable and when he changed the subject, I let him.

  ‘What do you want to do tonight?’ he asked.

  ‘Fancy the pictures? There’s that Meg Ryan film I quite fancied –’

  ‘There’s only one person I fancy around here,’ he said, grabbing me and moving in for the kill. ‘Let’s stay right here.’

  Corny, I know, but I loved the fact that all he was interested in was me. Besides, I’d heard it on the radio the week before: staying in was the new going out.

  We went to bed and stayed there till we had to get up for work the next day, and the way he made me feel, there wasn’t any other place I’d have rather been.

  Work the next day. There’s only one word to describe it: aaaaaagggggghhhhh!!

  ‘I’m sorry, Dayna, but that’s the fourth complaint in as many days,’ my boss told me, sounding as un-sorry as she could possibly be.

  ‘But I don’t know what she’s talking about, Vivien. I haven’t done electrolysis on anyone for over two weeks.’

  ‘What are you saying? That she’s lying?’

  ‘No. Yes. I don’t know.’

  ‘Well, we’ll have to wait until Angie comes back to see if she can remember this woman being here. I hope for your sake she can’t.’

  Vivien was furious and it was clear that she’d already made her mind up. The client in question had phoned to say that she’d been in for electrolysis and that I’d burnt her top lip so badly she’d woken up the next morning with blisters. It sounded like a bit of a story to me because for one thing, she’d left it three days before phoning, but also, she wasn’t prepared to come in and show us. She’d told Vivien that she was too traumatised to leave the house and either we gave her a full course of treatment for free (which would run to hundreds of pounds) or she’d see us in court.

  I’d had women try it on in the past. Just girls trying

  to blag a free pedicure or whatever, though – nothing as bad as third-degree burns and ‘see you in court’. I vaguely remembered the woman because she had a funny name (Mrs Annal – Angie and I had been making arse jokes for ages after), but as far as I could recall all I’d done was wax her underarms. As she was leaving Vivien had very stupidly spilt her coffee over the booking sheets so all we could do was go on memory. Now it was down to Angie.

  I wanted it sorted out there and then, but Angie had a couple of days off. As I set about massaging my next client, the whole thing was depressing me so much that I decided I wasn’t going to wait and have my fate decided by Angie’s dodgy memory. I’d had enough: of moany and conniving clients, of working in a basement, of Vivien, of everything. I finished the massage, found Vivien and resigned. She didn’t know whether to look horrified or relieved.

  I couldn’t believe that Dad was going to be fifty. Most of my friends reckoned I had this really young, cool and groovy dad and I’d always been happy to go along with them. But fifty? Unless you’re Mick Jagger, it’s not an age synonymous with cool and groovy by anyone’s standards, I’m sure.

  Suzie had organised a surprise party for him. She’d booked a table for twenty at the Thai Palace and told me to bring anyone I liked. I’d been looking forward to it for ages. I always enjoy a party, I love Thai food and it was a chance for Dad and Suzie to meet Archie at last. I’d asked Emily and Max to come along too. Even though Archie hadn’t exactly taken a shine to Max (to put it politely), I thought it would be fine. I’d get Dad to put him and Emily down one end of the table and Archie at the other and I’d flit between them. I’d be just like an It Girl at one of those flash West End clubs I wanted Archie to take me to, and not at all like Dayna at her dad’s fiftieth at the local Thai.

  Archie rang me on the morning of the party. ‘I’m sorry, Dayna, but it’s the semi-final and I can’t get out of it. Honestly, I never thought we’d get this far and it’s the biggest game we’ve ever had. I’ve been playing with these guys for ten years and they’d kill me if I didn’t show.’

  Anyone would have thought he was the star striker for West Ham Hotspur (or whoever) and they’d reached the semi-final of the Premiership Cup (or whatever). But I knew how important his football was to him and I had to respect that. And, much as I wasn’t interested, it was the footy that kept him so fit – and that I loved.

  ‘Look, I’m really sorry and I’m really going to miss you tonight,’ he went on.

  ‘Yeah, yeah, whatever,’ I said, not even trying to hide my disappointment.

  ‘Please, don’t be like that.’

  ‘I’m just disappointed, Archie. I’ve been dying for you and Dad to meet properly. I think you’ll really get along with each other.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, but it is the semi-final. If it was only the quarters, I’d come, believe me. We’ll do it soon, I promise. Enjoy yourself tonight, yeah?’

  ‘I’ll have a chilli prawn for you,’ I tried to joke.

  ‘Please don’t. I hate Thai food.’

  Weirdo. Who hated Thai food?

  ‘I hate Thai food,’ Suzie whispered to me. ‘I’d have much sooner had an Italian.’

  ‘Why did you book it, then?’ I whispered back, wondering how come there were so many people who didn’t like exotic food and that maybe Archie wasn’t so strange after all.

  ‘It’s your dad’s night tonight and he loves Thai,’ she explained.

  ‘Aw, that’s really sweet of you,’ I said.

  She smiled, but it looked as fake as the traditional Thai waitress in traditional Thai dress who’d met us at the door. She was a redhead with a Birmingham accent.

  ‘Come on,’ she said, ‘grab your drink and we’ll do a toast.’

  Great idea if we wanted to raise our glasses to an empty chair. All around the table were familiar faces. Dad’s best friends, Bill and Brenda, Wayne and Owen and their wives, and others that I’d known for most of my life. But no sign of Dad. Where on earth was he?

  I spotted him after a moment. He was propping up the bar at the far end of the restaurant. Next to him was the Brummy redhead. I don’t think they were talking about the drinks order, not with the way he was leaning in close to whisper in her ear and the way she was throwing back her head to giggle flirtatiously.

  I quickly glanced at Suzie to see if she’d spotted it

  too. If she had, she was making a good show of hiding it. She was laughing outrageously at a joke Bill had told ten times already.

  What the hell was Dad playing at? This was no way to treat the woman he’d sworn to love forever only a few months before. She’d gone to such trouble to make the evening special as well. She’d had a hell of a time inviting all his friends and keeping it a secret. Then there was the new dress and the hairdo and I’d spent most of that afternoon on her nails and make-up. As I got up to rejoin Emily and Max at the other
end of the table, I didn’t feel at all It Girl-ish. I just felt sad for Suzie.

  ‘What’s going on between your dad and Suzie?’ Emily asked me when I sat down next to her. ‘They’ve hardly said two words to each other all night.’

  ‘I’m so glad you said that,’ I replied. ‘Now I know it isn’t just my imagination.’

  ‘What are you on about? They look fine to me,’ Max said, frowning a little.

  Idiot, I thought. No, that wasn’t fair. Obviously, it takes a girl to spot these things. Dad had rejoined Suzie by then. But although they were sitting next to each other and they were both laughing, it was at different jokes and they had their bodies slanted away from each other. You could have slipped the Great Wall of China between them and it wouldn’t have made them seem any further apart. To the trained female eye, that is.

  ‘Look at them,’ Max said. ‘Laughing away, they’re having a great time.’

  ‘Have they had a row or something?’ Emily asked, ignoring him.

  ‘Not that I know of, but he was just chatting up that waitress at the bar.’

  ‘Men just can’t bloody stop themselves, can they? Even those old enough to know better,’ she hissed, and even though this was my dad she was talking about, I really had to agree.

  Max laughed then. ‘You two need to get a life,’ he said.

  ‘What are you on about now?’ Emily asked, sounding irritated.

  ‘Listen to you both. Looking for problems where they don’t exist. You’ve both got too much time on your hands. You need to show some ambition. To utilise your skills to start making some proper money.’

  ‘You are obsessed with money,’ Emily said, whacking him on the arm.

  At last, I thought, she’s seen through him.

  But then she blew it. ‘I love that in a man,’ she said.

  I thought back to the days when she used to bang on about capitalist scum and wondered if it could possibly be the same girl who was now mooning at Max with pound signs in her eyes. Then I wondered if that was what Archie had objected to in Max: that he was driven by money and nothing else.