Brand New Friend

by Mike Gayle

  ‘Good for him,’ said Rob.

  ‘Yeah, it is,’ said Phil. ‘But it’ll have him based in Cambridgeshire, which isn’t all that far but it’s too far for him to come out for last orders in the Queen’s Head on a Wednesday night.’

  ‘And what about you?’ asked Rob. ‘Where are you off to?’

  ‘Me? I’m staying right here, of course – Woodsy too. I can’t see either of us ever leaving London.’

  ‘But that’s how I used to feel about London,’ said Rob.

  ‘And now?’ asked Phil.

  Rob shrugged.

  ‘I think you did the right thing in getting out,’ said Phil, quietly. ‘Absolutely one hundred per cent. It could never have been worth losing Ashley for a bunch of mates who, sooner or later, were going to go their own way.’

  As they sat drinking, talking and laughing, Rob couldn’t help wondering what Phil had been getting at. Initially he thought his friend had simply been pointing out that Rob had done the right thing, but there had been something in his tone that suggested he’d meant more than that.

  At just after three, everyone started getting ready to go home.

  ‘Thanks for getting everyone out, mate,’ Rob said to Phil. ‘I can’t believe we’ve been mates for a decade. We’ve had some good laughs.’

  ‘The best. Although I don’t think we ever quite realised that at the time . . .’

  Phil looked wistful, and Rob finally realised what he’d been trying to say all along. It wasn’t just that he thought Rob had made the right move in going to Manchester, he had been acknowledging that the things you take for granted should be appreciated. Indirectly, he was thanking Rob for his friendship.

  Rob didn’t know what to do with this information, so he said nothing. But on the train back to Manchester, with Phil’s words still on his mind, he wondered if he was taking Jo for granted, and whether he should thank her for her friendship. He found himself calling her with no idea of how to put what he wanted to say.

  ‘Hello?’ said Jo.

  ‘It’s me. I just wanted to—’ He couldn’t finish the sentence.

  ‘You just wanted to what?’ prompted Jo.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Rob. ‘It’s all right.’ He paused. ‘What are you doing tonight?’

  ‘Dyeing the grey out of my hair and eating half a tub of sour cream and chives Pringles while I watch Friday’s Corrie on video.’ Jo laughed. ‘Are you on the train?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Rob. ‘It gets in at sevenish. Ash is picking me up and we’re going round to Mia’s for something to eat.’

  ‘That sounds nice,’ said Jo. ‘I’ll see you during the week.’

  He ended the call, tucked his phone into the back pocket of his jeans and stared out of the carriage window.

  Moment five

  ‘Is this your local, then?’ asked David.

  ‘Not really,’ said Jo. ‘I’ve been in here once or twice.’

  ‘How come the bar staff all know you?’

  ‘I’ve got that kind of face. Familiar.’

  It was ten past nine and Jo was sitting in the back room at the Lazy Fox with David Stockton, a fellow officer at the housing association.

  David, who was six years younger than Jo, had been pestering her to go on a date with him from the moment she had split up with Sean. Two things had stopped her succumbing to his advances: first, she still wasn’t shaving her legs, and second, if something happened between her and David it might cause more problems than it was worth. It wasn’t just that the timing was all wrong – she still hadn’t got over losing Sean – it was everything. She worried about how people at work would react when the news got out. She worried that he might like her too much and would want things to get more serious than she did – or the reverse. And now that she and Rob were such good friends, she worried about how he might react to her dating again.

  While she understood that it was none of his business if she wanted to see someone, she felt somehow that she needed his permission to go ahead. She had floated the idea past him a few times, but he had failed to react at all. And although Jo knew she would have jumped down his throat if he had shown any sign of disapproval, part of her was disappointed that he seemed not to care. But the fact remained that unless Jo was going to remain celibate for the rest of her life, at some point in the future – regardless of Rob’s opinion on the matter – she was going to have to go on a date.

  So, after days of worrying about how an unavailable man might respond to the idea of his female friend going on a date, Jo concluded that she had to take action. The following day at work, she had approached David and asked him out for a drink.

  ‘So,’ said David smugly, ‘here we are, finally out together.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  ‘I was surprised when you asked me out because . . . well, you know . . .’

  ‘Hmm.’

  David suddenly stopped looking smug. ‘Are you all right? You seem a little bit distracted.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ lied Jo. ‘I’ve just had a lot on my mind.’

  ‘What like?’ asked David. ‘A lot of women say I’m quite good with problems.’

  Jo stifled a laugh because she was quite sure that no woman in her right mind had ever said any such thing. David Stockton wasn’t the problem-solving type: he was the cheeky, cocksure type that women like her were supposed to find attractive, and frequently did.

  ‘Okay,’ she began. ‘Here’s what’s on my mind. I’ve been wondering if it’s possible for men to be just friends with a woman.’

  ‘No,’ he replied.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it just isn’t,’ he said. ‘If you get on with a member of the opposite sex well enough to be mates with them, you might as well go out with them.’

  Jo sighed heavily. ‘But isn’t that just lazy?’

  ‘But people are lazy,’ explained David, clearly pleased with his contribution to the debate. ‘Men especially. We see an attractive woman and sex is the first thing on our minds.’

  ‘Fair enough. Women do that too.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said David, ‘but the difference is that you don’t feel the need to act on the impulse.’

  ‘I’ve heard that argument a million times and it always sounds daft. Are you telling me that just because the thought pops into a bloke’s head he has to act on it? A million and one random things popped into my ex-boyfriend’s head – things like wanting to go travelling around South America, or wanting to learn how to surf properly or building a house in the Canadian Rockies – but he’s never done – and never will do – any of them. Why can’t it be the same for being friends with women?’

  ‘Three words,’ said David rubbing his hands gleefully. ‘Unresolved sexual tension – between most men and women anyway. I’m sure it’s all to do with the propagation of the species but don’t quote me on that. If you’re talking about a man and a woman getting on really well, a by-product of that friendship has to be an increase in sexual tension between them. Men can’t ignore it.’

  Jo thought for a moment. ‘But surely if they find a way to resolve the sexual tension they can be friends?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ David grinned. ‘But last time I checked there was only one way to do that.’

  Infuriating as he was, Jo couldn’t help feeling that he was making a good point.

  ‘But surely,’ she went on, ‘rather than just taking their clothes off they could talk it out.’

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ replied David. ‘You’ve sat in on more customer-relations training workshops than I have so you must know even better than I do that no one ever learns anything by talking. That’s why they always get you to do those stupid role-plays – because the best way to learn anything is by experiencing it.’ He laughed, then took a gulp of lager. ‘Anyway, is this about you and me being friends because I was hoping for more than that?’

  ‘No,’ replied Jo, wishing she could call Rob for an excuse to leave her date early. ‘It isn’t about you and me at all.’

 
At the end of the evening Jo told David that, although she had enjoyed his company, she didn’t think that anything would happen between them. She returned home alone to Levenshulme, dug out all of the pictures she had of her and Sean and pored over them for hours while she cried and tried to overcome the compulsion to call him. She was tired of being alone, eating alone and sleeping alone. She didn’t want to be alone any more.

  Popcorn and explosions (part two): exit strategy

  ‘What did you think of that?’ asked Jo.

  It was now ten to eleven and Rob and she were sitting in Screen Three of the UGC Didsbury as the end credits to the ‘high-octane thriller with a twist’ began to roll.

  ‘Normally I like to wait until I’ve left the cinema before I dissect a film,’ replied Rob, ‘because a million and one similar conversations are already going on in the auditorium, but that one was terrible.’

  ‘It was the worst I think I’ve ever seen,’ said Jo, as they stood up and moved towards the exit.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘The plot was ridiculous. The guy playing the police chief couldn’t act his way out of a paper bag. And the twist with the serial killer was just plain silly.’

  ‘But the worst you’ve ever seen?’ said Rob. ‘That’s a bold statement to make in a world where there are films like 1492 – Conquest of Paradise.’

  ‘Gérard Depardieu as Columbus? I thought it would never end.’

  ‘And if we’re talking truly bad films let’s not forget Police Academy 7: Mission To Moscow.’

  ‘Yeah, you have a point,’ said Jo, as they left the auditorium. ‘You’re right, but in its defence, if you’ve seen films one to six you might as well see the complete set. And it might have been terrible but it was sort of satisfying too.’

  ‘Okay,’ began Rob. ‘This is without doubt the absolute worst film in celluloid history and if I find out you liked anything about it I’ll terminate our friendship forthwith.’

  Jo laughed. ‘Big words, small man.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said, and took a deep breath. ‘Here we go. Ace Ventura – When Nature Calls.’

  Jo let out a small scream. ‘I wanted to go home three seconds after Jim Carrey started his rubber-faced gurning routine. The only thing that stopped me was that I’d have had to go home without Justin, the guy I was seeing at the time. I must be the only woman in the world whose sole reason for dumping a guy was that he’d taken me to a Jim Carrey film.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ said Rob, as they stepped on to the escalator and descended to the ground-floor lobby. ‘Anyway, I haven’t even got the excuse that someone else dragged me to see it. I went of my own accord.’

  ‘No!’ Jo was appalled.

  ‘I thought the first one had its moments, but the second was too awful for words.’

  ‘Did you walk out?’

  ‘I fell asleep.’

  They stepped off the escalator and Jo searched her bag for her car keys.

  ‘We’ve missed last orders,’ said Rob, looking at his watch.

  ‘I’ve got a couple of bottles of Rioja at mine. It was on sale in Tesco. I had a glass out of one last night so we could finish off the bottle. What do you think?’

  ‘I don’t see why not,’ shrugged Rob, ‘but you’re not going to persuade me to watch Dirty Dancing again.’

  Jo laughed, then her face fell. Rob turned and immediately saw why. Sean was heading for them. Jo was staring at him, trying not to cry.

  ‘What do you want?’ she asked, when Sean stopped in front of her.

  ‘I’m here with the boys,’ he said, gesturing to some men beside a huge poster of Julia Roberts. ‘We’ve just seen the same film as you guys.’ His eyes flitted to Rob, then back to Jo. ‘I saw you come in.’

  Jo remained silent.

  ‘How have you been?’ he continued.

  ‘Fine,’ she said.

  ‘Aren’t you going to introduce me to your new boyfriend?’ he asked.

  The determined look on his face told Rob that Sean wanted to make a scene, if only to impress his friends. If it came to a fight they would be evenly matched, but if Sean’s friends joined in he’d be in trouble. Despite the odds, though, Rob decided that he wasn’t going to let Sean intimidate Jo.

  ‘Just leave it, mate,’ he said, meeting Sean’s stare.

  ‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ said Jo. ‘He’s just a friend.’

  ‘I bet he is,’ replied Sean. ‘Doesn’t say much, does he?’

  ‘You’re such an idiot, Sean,’ said Jo, and tugged Rob past her ex-boyfriend towards the exit and outside, where a group of kids were playing on their BMXs.

  ‘I can’t believe he did that,’ said Jo, as she stormed towards her car. ‘I hate it when he acts like – like he’s some sort of hard man. He’s such a child.’ Suddenly Rob realised she was crying. ‘Why did he have to speak to me?’ Tears rolled down her cheeks. She came to a halt and, without thinking, Rob put his arms round her, held her tightly and told her not to cry, that everything would be all right. After a few moments the tears stopped and her arms dropped from his waist. He released her and they went on to her car.

  ‘I’m sorry about that,’ she said, as they left the car park.

  ‘It wasn’t your fault.’ Rob paused, then added cheerily, ‘So are we going back to yours to finish off the wine you were talking about?’

  ‘Can we give it a miss?’ said Jo, without taking her eyes off the road. ‘I’m not feeling up to a late night now.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Rob.

  Jo turned on the radio and the car was filled with the late-night chatter of Key 103. For the rest of the journey, until she pulled up outside Rob’s house, they were silent.

  ‘I’ll see you whenever, then,’ said Rob.

  He undid his seatbelt and opened the car door, but before he could climb out Jo grabbed his arm. ‘Wait,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry about tonight, okay? None of this was your fault and I shouldn’t take it out on you. I don’t suppose you’re still up for polishing off that bottle of wine?’ She smiled.

  ‘All right then,’ replied Rob, doing up his seatbelt.

  ‘But if that Dirty Dancing DVD comes out of its case, I’m off.’

  The living room

  ‘For what it’s worth,’ said Rob, as he shared out the last drops of wine between their glasses, ‘it’s his loss, not yours.’

  ‘That’s very sweet of you, but it’s not how it feels. It’s my loss because I know he doesn’t care about me.’ She took a sip of wine. ‘I miss him, Rob. Part of me thinks I would’ve been better off to have him around hating me than I am rattling around on my own.’

  ‘You wouldn’t,’ said Rob. ‘You just think you would.’

  ‘But you have no idea how lonely it is living on your own.’

  ‘Really? Well, Ashley’s not at home very much these days, and I’m home alone all day every day.’

  ‘I’m feeling sorry for myself, aren’t I? I know you’ve had a tough time, but you always know that Ashley’s coming home eventually. At least she’s thinking about you even if she’s not physically there. At the end of the day, I’m just not very good at being on my own, and seeing Sean tonight threw me. It’s so much easier to get over people when you can pretend they’ve stopped existing – almost as if they’ve died. You feel sad rather than angry. You can grieve. And I think it helps you to move on. But it means that when you do see them it’s that much more painful, a big fat reminder that they’re out there, living their life, not giving you a second thought.’

  A good night

  ‘I’m shattered,’ said Rob, stretching.

  ‘Me too,’ replied Jo, fighting to keep her eyes open.

  It was now just after two. For the last few hours they had been drinking, listening to music and talking about nothing much. Now they were yawning. Rob stood up and rummaged in his pockets for his mobile phone.

  ‘What’s the number of that minicab firm you use?’ he asked.

  She didn’t answer, so he asked again.
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br />   ‘I heard you the first time,’ replied Jo.

  ‘Come on, then, I’m knackered, mate. I need to get a cab home and go to bed.’

  ‘Well, if you’re that tired stay here.’

  ‘On your sofa?’ Rob laughed. ‘You must be joking! My days of crashing on friends’ sofas are well behind me.’

  Jo looked Rob in the eyes. ‘Not on the sofa . . .’

  Rob swallowed hard. ‘Look I know—’

  ‘And before you start,’ she interrupted, ‘I promise this isn’t some rubbish seduction technique. I’ll wear my pyjamas and you can sleep fully clothed, with a coat and hat on for all I care. Rob, normally I wouldn’t dream of asking something like this but I don’t want to sleep alone tonight. I’ve had enough of it . . . more than enough. I promise I’ll never ask again.’

  Rob thought about it. Seeing Sean had upset her more than he had grasped, and her request not only seemed understandable but reasonable. It wasn’t her he had a problem with. It was himself. Sleeping in the same bed now would be different from how it had been the first time. Then they had been strangers but now they were friends, and Rob thought this was a bad thing. Wasn’t he putting himself directly in temptation’s way? Wasn’t he abusing Ashley’s trust? Wouldn’t it be easier for everyone concerned if he just went home? But he couldn’t find it in himself to turn Jo down.

  He kissed her cheek (in a warm, platonic, friendly way that he hoped would set the tone for their night together), then said, ‘Yeah, of course I’ll stay.’ And without another word Jo disappeared upstairs. Rob finished his wine, then turned off the lights and made his way to Jo’s bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed and began to take off his clothes. Just as he was wondering what he should sleep in, Jo knocked on the door. ‘Can I come in?’ she asked, from the other side.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Rob. ‘I’m decent.’

  She was wearing a blue towelling dressing-gown. Her hair was pushed back with a headband and her face, now devoid of makeup, seemed to glow. ‘I’ve got this for you,’ she said, handing him a T-shirt.