Brand New Friend

by Mike Gayle

  ‘You like Motorhead?’ said Rob holding it up.

  ‘It was Sean’s. An ironic fashion statement. It was in the washing basket when he left so he forgot it.’

  She walked over to her dressing-table and began to put on some lip salve. Rob eased off his top and replaced it with Sean’s T-shirt.

  ‘Are you done?’ asked Jo.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Rob.

  ‘How weird is this?’ said Jo, as she slipped off her dressing-gown.

  Rob shrugged. ‘Do we just get in?’

  ‘I suppose,’ said Jo, and pulled back the duvet. ‘Are you still okay with this?’

  ‘We’re just two people sharing a bed,’ reasoned Rob.

  He climbed in, then Jo got in, and they arranged the duvet around them.

  ‘How do you normally sleep?’ asked Jo.

  ‘On my stomach,’ replied Rob. ‘How about you?’

  ‘On my side facing the window,’ she replied.

  There was a long silence.

  “Night, then,’ said Rob.

  Jo leaned across him, kissed his cheek, then switched off the light. In the darkness Rob put his arm round her without a word. And there they lay, semi-spooning, feet touching, barely breathing and more wide awake than they had been all day until their self-consciousness faded and they tumbled headlong into sleep.

  PART SEVEN

  (Principally concerning repercussions)

  The morning after: Jo’s version

  Jo’s clock-radio alarm went off, blaring Manchester’s Key 103 into her ear. She reached across to rouse Rob and found that his side of the bed was empty and Sean’s Motor-head T-shirt was folded neatly on the pillow. She called his name but knew he wouldn’t answer. It was like the first time they had shared a bed, but different. This time Rob had gone because they had overstepped the mark. A line had been crossed. And the blame for anything that happened next was hers. She had ruined everything, even though nothing had happened, because she was no longer sure that their friendship – at least on her part – was innocent any more. And lying there in bed alone it dawned on her that unless she did something to rein in her confusion about Rob, she might never see him again.

  The morning after: Rob’s version

  It was a quarter past seven and Rob was in a minicab on his way back to Chorlton, trying to work out what last night had been about – for him and for Jo. Unable to make sense of it, he called, as ever, the one person he was sure could help him out.

  ‘Phil, it’s me,’ he said, when his friend picked up. ‘And before you say anything I know it’s early but I need your advice, mate. I might have done something that I’m going to regret.’

  ‘What now, Bobman?’ Phil laughed. ‘You haven’t befriended lap-dancing twins, have you?’

  ‘Look, it’s serious. I spent last night at Jo’s but this time it was different.’

  ‘You didn’t—’

  ‘No. Nothing happened.’

  ‘So, what’s the problem?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Rob sighed. ‘Nothing happened but it wasn’t like before. We weren’t drunk and it was deliberate. It was late and Jo just asked me if I’d stay over. I was sure it was innocent and yet . . . I don’t know . . . it’s freaking me out.’

  ‘What are you saying? That you like her?’

  ‘Not like that. We’re just friends. I’m one hundred per cent sure of it. It’s just that last night felt wrong.’

  ‘Well, it was, mate. You went to bed with someone who wasn’t Ashley.’

  ‘But nothing happened.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s true,’ said Phil. ‘And I’m not talking about sex.’

  ‘You’re right. What happened last night wasn’t about sex. It was about . . . I don’t know . . . I feel protective towards her. Almost paternal. I don’t know, I wanted to protect her . . . to make her feel safe.’

  ‘You’re not falling in love with her, or anything daft like that are you?’

  ‘No,’ replied Rob. ‘Definitely not.’

  ‘But you love her.’

  ‘It’s complicated. All I’m sure of is that even if I love her I’m not in love with her, like I am with Ashley. Do you see the difference?’

  ‘Is there a difference?’

  ‘Of course there is,’ replied Rob. ‘I love Jo in the same way I love Woodsy or Ian Two – even you – and it’s not the kind of love you bang on about. It’s just there. And sex has nothing to do with it.’

  ‘Well, that’s very noble,’ said Phil, ‘but you’ve still got a problem because, friends or not, you spent the night with someone who isn’t Ashley. Now, I might not know much about women but I know enough to guess that if Ashley knew what had happened she’d be less than happy.’

  ‘That’s why I feel bad. It’s like I’ve cheated on her even though I haven’t done anything wrong.’

  ‘Well, that’s a matter for debate,’ replied Phil. ‘What are you going to do, mate?’

  ‘Well, that’s kind of why I called you – for advice.’

  ‘I’m good,’ said Phil, ‘but not that good.’

  ‘Well, then, it’s up to me. I can’t afford to do anything that might jeopardise me and Ashley, but at the same time, I can’t lose Jo either. She’s part of my life now. If I stopped seeing her it would ruin everything – not just for me but for Ashley too because I don’t think I can make it work here without Jo.’

  ‘Damned if you do and damned if you don’t,’ said Phil, sagely.

  ‘Exactly,’ replied Rob. ‘But you’ve helped me decide one thing at any rate.’

  ‘And what’s that?’

  ‘Until I come up with a solution there’s no way I can see Jo.’

  Time out

  Rob didn’t see Jo for over three weeks, although he spoke to her several times on the phone. The first call took place the day after the sleepover. Jo rang Rob on the pretext of arranging when and where they would meet up for a gig at Band on the Wall. The conversation was at best stilted and at worst filled with long silences, as though neither of them could think of anything to say. When Jo finally mentioned the gig, Rob replied, ‘I don’t think I can make it.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’ve got a lot of work on. You know how it is.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Jo, sadly. ‘I’m sure I’ll find someone else to go with.’

  ‘Cool,’ replied Rob, then added, ‘I’m sure things will be clearer by the end of next week. Maybe we can have a quick one in the Lazy Fox then.’

  ‘That sounds good.’

  ‘I’ll call you Thursday,’ said Rob, ‘and see how you are.’

  He didn’t call her until late on Thursday evening and then only to say he couldn’t see her as he still had too much work to do.

  ‘Of course you should stay in,’ said Jo. ‘It must be horrible to have a deadline hanging over you and not enough time to get the work done.’

  ‘It is,’ replied Rob, and they talked for a little while until finally Rob suggested they should try to meet up for coffee on Sunday afternoon in the Lead Station.

  ‘That sounds great,’ replied Jo eagerly. ‘Shall I phone you or what?’

  ‘I’ll phone you,’ said Rob.

  Just after eleven on Sunday morning Rob sent her a text message:

  Forgot. Parents dropping in on way to my uncle’s in Sheffield, today. Sorry. See you early next week.

  Rob knew that Jo would consider Monday or Tuesday ‘early next week’ but somehow still didn’t get round to calling her. In the end she called him.

  ‘It’s me,’ she said, when he answered the phone.

  ‘I said I’d call you and I didn’t, did I?’ said Rob sounding uncomfortable. ‘I completely forgot. It’s my fault. There’s absolutely no excuse for it and I’m sorry.’ He paused. ‘What are you doing tonight? Are you free?’

  ‘Why?’ asked Jo. ‘Is all that work you’ve been doing suddenly finished?’

  ‘Sort of,’ he replied. ‘I feel really bad, not seeing you all this time.
I tell you what, why don’t we catch a film tonight? We could meet in the bar at the Cornerhouse at about seven and then nip downstairs and see what takes our fancy?’

  ‘Are you sure?’ asked Jo.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Rob. ‘Seven o’clock in the bar at the Cornerhouse. And I promise I won’t be late.’

  Talk to her

  When Rob saw Jo sitting at the table near the window in the Cornerhouse the first thing that went through his mind was, She looks different. And she did. She seemed prettier and more confident. And, disappointingly, more serious. She was dressed in black, had a glass of red wine in front of her and was studying one of the cinema’s film guides.

  ‘Hey, you,’ said Rob, as he approached the table.

  Jo stood up and kissed his cheek, then gave him the kind of awkward half-hug people normally reserve for acquaintances they don’t know well.

  ‘How have you been?’ she asked, as she sat down. ‘Is all your work really done?’

  ‘It was a bit stressful but these things are better finished than left to hang over you,’ said Rob. ‘Then you can get on with your life.’

  ‘Look,’ said Jo, pointing out of the window at Oxford Road. A man in an expensive-looking hooded anorak was walking in the direction of the university. ‘That’s Mani from the Stone Roses.’

  ‘I missed his face,’ said Rob. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Dunno. Half the guys in Manchester look like they might have been in the Stone Roses at some point in their life.’ Rob laughed, and for a few moments he felt at ease, but then Jo was serious again. ‘I’ve got a couple of things to tell you,’ she said. ‘Nothing big but I thought that, as we’re friends and all that, you should probably know.’

  ‘Fire away,’ said Rob, ‘because I’ve got news to tell you too.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Jo, and took another sip of wine. ‘The first thing is that I’ve sent the book to a few agents. I decided you were right and I’d given up too easily. I printed out some copies at work – I’ll be for it when they find out how much paper and toner I’ve used – and posted them yesterday.’

  ‘That’s great,’ said Rob. ‘I’m proud of you. It must have taken a lot of courage but I know it’ll pay off.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Jo, shyly. ‘I would never have done it without all the encouraging stuff you said.’

  ‘What’s your other news?’

  ‘It’s like this,’ began Jo. ‘I’ve started seeing someone.’

  ‘Wow,’ said Rob, surprised. ‘That’s not small news that’s big news – really big news. Who is it?’

  ‘His name’s David. Do you remember I went on a date with him a while ago and it didn’t work out because, well, the timing was wrong? Anyway, recently he asked me out again and in the last couple of weeks we’ve been out quite a few times.’

  ‘How’s it going?’

  Jo shrugged. ‘Good, I think. But I can never tell with these things.’

  ‘I’m really pleased for you—’ began Rob, then cut himself short.

  ‘What?’ said Jo. ‘If you’ve got something to say, then say it.’

  ‘I was just wondering . . . Well, it’s none of my business but . . . does this mean that you’re going to start shaving your legs again?’

  ‘I already have.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Rob, and laughed nervously. ‘Happy leg-shaving day.’

  Jo glanced pointedly at her watch. ‘We’ll have to go to the box office soon and decide what we want to see. Any preferences?’

  ‘You choose. But before we do that I want to tell you my news. Ashley and I are engaged.’

  ‘That’s brilliant,’ said Jo, without missing a beat. ‘When did you ask her?’

  ‘Last week,’ said Rob. ‘It’s always been on the cards and I couldn’t see the point in stringing it out if it was what I really wanted.’

  ‘And is it what you really want?’ asked Jo.

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Rob. ‘She’s the One.’

  ‘Well, that’s great,’ said Jo. ‘I’m really pleased for you both.’

  ‘I knew you would be,’ said Rob. ‘And just for the record I think it’s great news about you and David too. When you’re a bit further on with things you should bring him over to us for dinner – I’d love to meet him.’

  ‘That would be great,’ said Jo. ‘But you know . . . it’s early days yet.’ She paused, and smiled awkwardly. ‘Any idea when the big day will be?’

  ‘Not for a while,’ replied Rob. ‘We’re both pretty good at saving so money’s not the problem. It’s the organisational stuff that’s the pain. In the meantime we’ve decided that getting engaged is too good an excuse for a party to miss and so we’re throwing a bit of an impromptu do at ours at the end of the month. Ashley’s got it sorted on the catering front and the boys are coming up from London so you’ll meet them. It should be a laugh.’

  ‘It sounds it,’ said Jo, evenly. ‘I’ll be there.’ She looked at her watch again. ‘Time’s running out.’ She knocked back the last of her drink and got up. ‘Let’s go and get the tickets.’

  Together they made their way to the box office where they bought two tickets for a Polish film Rob had never heard of but Jo had seen a vaguely positive review about in a Sunday newspaper. As he took his seat next to her and the lights went down, Rob realised he didn’t care about the film: he was just relieved to be in the dark watching a film in a language he couldn’t understand because it meant that – for the duration of the film at least – he could be alone with his thoughts.

  And by the end of the film Rob had come to the conclusion that the mistake of sharing a bed with Jo was no longer anything to feel guilty about. They had proved to themselves and each other that nothing was going on between them. He had moved on and so had Jo. And now they could get back to doing what they did best: being good friends.

  Which was what they did. During the run-up to the engagement party they went to the Lazy Fox, called each other at work, made trips to the cinema and saw bands just as they had before. And as far as they were concerned everything was back to normal.

  The engagement party

  ‘Jo,’ said Rob. ‘This is Phil.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Jo.

  ‘Nice to meet you too,’ replied Phil. ‘Rob said you’re an author.’

  ‘He’s exaggerating,’ said Jo, grinning at Rob. ‘I’ve sent a few copies of a book I wrote years ago to some literary agents but that’s all. Rob seems to think I might get lucky.’

  ‘Well,’ replied Phil, grinning, ‘never let it be said that Rob doesn’t have a good eye for talent.’

  ‘Ignore him,’ said Rob, scowling at his friend. ‘He thinks he’s the Don Juan of Tooting.’

  Jo laughed. ‘How are you liking Manchester?’ she asked.

  ‘A lot,’ said Phil. ‘It’s like London but more compact.’ He laughed and then added, ‘Has Rob told you about last night yet?’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘It was a good night but it all got a bit lairy towards the end – you know what large groups of men are like when they get together. But it wouldn’t have been like that if you’d come. What happened?’

  ‘I’ve had a rough week,’ said Jo, ‘and I thought I’d better save myself for tonight.’

  ‘Wise choice.’

  ‘Do you want a drink?’ asked Rob, noticing that Jo was without one.

  ‘A vodka and tonic would be great,’ she said.

  ‘Right.’ Rob turned to Phil: ‘Can you look after her while I sort her out a drink?’

  ‘Of course, mate,’ said Phil. ‘It’ll be my pleasure.’

  It was eight thirty on the evening of Rob and Ashley’s engagement party. Their Victorian terraced house was now groaning under the strain of their immediate family (parents, brothers and sisters), their extended family (aunts, uncles, their various ex-wives and ex-husbands, cousins, second cousins and their partners). The majority of the guests, however, were made up of their friends – from school, college, university, work a
nd elsewhere. Ashley had spent most of the evening introducing Rob to friends of hers whom he had only known by name, ranging from people she had met on her first day at Brownies to those she had come across during her medical career.

  He was pleased that all of his London friends were there. They had arrived on Friday night (minus wives and girlfriends) armed with sleeping-bags. Once the living room had been turned into a makeshift campsite, Rob had ordered taxis to take them into town for what became known as ‘The Big Night Out In the North’. Jo was supposed to have come too but just as the boys headed into the Old Wellington, she called Rob to say that she wasn’t feeling well but promised to be at the party. Disappointed but buoyant, Rob had led his mates on a barhopping spree, and then to the best curry house in Rusholme. They had ended the evening with dancing, and more drinking, at Sankey’s Soap on Jersey Street. And as they rolled up outside Rob and Ashley’s just after six the following morning, they all agreed that it had been their best night out in years.

  Friends of friends

  ‘Rob tells me you and he are pretty close,’ said Phil, giving Jo his full attention.

  ‘Yeah, we are,’ replied Jo, wondering if she was imagining that Phil was flirting with her. ‘He and Ashley have been really kind to me.’

  ‘They’re a good couple,’ said Phil. ‘I was sorry when he moved up here but it all seems to have turned out well . . . Would you like to meet the rest of the boys?’

  She followed him across the room to the hi-fi where a group of men were arguing over which CD to play next.

  ‘Ashley made the mistake of telling them they could be in charge of the music,’ explained Phil. ‘You can’t say that to five men and hope there won’t be a major argument.’

  Jo laughed. ‘How come you’re not arguing too?’

  ‘And miss talking to you? Never.’ He proceeded to introduce her to the others but then suddenly Woodsy, who had been carefully scrutinising the contents of the CD racks next to the hi-fi, pulled out a CD and waved it in the air. ‘Problem solved, boys,’ he said. ‘I’ve just found Queen’s Greatest Hits.’