by Jemma Forte
Last night she and Tim had been out for drinks at a bar and had come back to his after (always preferable to hiding up in her small room at home, her mum banging on the door every five minutes asking if they wanted a cup of tea when in fact what she was really checking was whether or not they were having sex).
‘Shall we go out for breakfast?’ asked Tim now, still bashing away at his computer. He’d been up for a while, had showered, got dressed and probably changed the world while Jennifer had been dozing and trying to figure out whether she wanted tea or coffee.
‘I don’t know,’ she said unhelpfully, staring into the middle distance.
Tim lived in Notting Hill in the most beautiful flat Jennifer had ever been in. It had one spacious, light bedroom and a luxurious bathroom complete with power shower. The living room, which was where they were sitting now, had wooden floors, was big enough to include two large grey sofas and led onto a small kitchen diner which had been painted a startling but gorgeous shade of bright sky blue, the perfect contrast to the pale wood units and stainless steel appliances. The living room walls were taupe and had two sets of floor to almost ceiling-height glass doors, framed by wrought iron Juliet balconies. The doors were open now and the morning breeze was blowing the calico curtains into the room.
‘It’s like a soft rock video in here,’ she joked absent-mindedly but Tim didn’t reply. Instead he finally shut down his computer and almost without taking a pause between activities, leapt over to where she was sitting and made what can only be described as a lunge for her. With a look of intent and a mischievous, somewhat off-putting schoolboy grin on his face, he grabbed her, stuck his hand up her jumper and started massaging her left breast. He wasn’t particularly tender about it though. If anything it was slightly painful. However, mistaking her gasp for one of passion he upped the ante, and before she knew it he was really going for it, tuning in her nipple like he was trying to get an FM frequency.
Still, it seemed to be working for him for his breath grew short and as he huffed and puffed in her ear Jennifer decided she ought really to try and get into it. She was still in her pyjamas so he had pretty easy access to everything. However, when he suddenly stopped and looked at her with a pleading expression she’d come to know only too well, her heart sunk.
‘Estate agent?’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. You should go out into the corridor and pretend you’ve arrived to do an evaluation.’
At this Jennifer felt full of irritation and decided she couldn’t pretend any more. ‘Why can’t I just be naked for once?’
‘What?’
‘Plain old me is never enough is it? You always want me to be someone else these days. But to be honest I don’t really feel like putting on a suit right now and acting like I’m terribly excited by your flat’s potential.’ Her frustration was a long time coming. ‘Just for once it would be nice if you wanted to have sex with me, Jennifer. Not Trixie the masseuse, Suzy the police officer, Laura the teacher or now Jane the frigging estate agent.’
At this Tim pulled away, practically throwing her onto the other side of the sofa ‘Oh well that’s charming. Talk about know how to get rid of someone’s erection for Christ’s sake.’
‘Well, I’m sorry,’ said Jennifer primly. ‘But perhaps you need to take into consideration what I want for a change, which is not necessarily always having to remember my lines and be in fancy dress every time I want to have sex with my boyfriend.’
‘No, all you want is to whinge at me,’ he said, though Jennifer noticed that at least he’d had the decency to blush a pale pink.
‘That’s out of order,’ she snapped. ‘As if I whinge?’
‘It’s true. Nag, nag, nag, that’s all you do,’ he said.
‘That’s rubbish,’ she said, hurriedly pulling up her pyjama bottoms. ‘What on earth could you say I nag you about?’
‘Ooh, well, let me see now…my work, er…seeing you, what I’m up to on a day to day basis, Sean, whether or not I’m coming out to whatever night of torture you and Karen have arranged.’ He paused, letting his mean words sink in. He looked very defensive and Jennifer sensed he was only lashing out so much because he was still embarrassed about his ridiculous addiction to role play.
‘Frankly, what you should be focused on,’ he continued now, unable to look her in the eye, ‘is what you’re doing with yourself and with your life.’
‘Oh well, it’s all coming out now,’ said Jennifer, who by now was so angry she’d started contemplating what to throw out of the window. On a braver day she’d have plumped for the computer but knew it would result in death and not just hers if it landed on a passer-by’s head.
‘I’m just saying that if you spent a little more energy deciding what it is you want to do, rather than worrying about how much time I spend with Sean, or how little time I spend with Pete and bloody Karen you might be better off.’
‘Oh will you get over yourself,’ shouted Jennifer. ‘Honestly, if I hear you mention Karen in an argument one more time I’ll lose it. What have you got against her? I mean, I know she can be prickly sometimes but now she’s with Pete she’s calmed right down and she’s been so much more tolerant. Why can’t you be the same?’
‘Tolerant?’ spat Tim. ‘If two people have to be tolerant of one another then I would suggest they shouldn’t bother going to the effort full stop. Life’s too short. And yes, the fact she’s had a complete personality transplant since getting together with Pete hasn’t escaped me but why I should be a slave to her ridiculously volatile state, which seems solely dependent on if she’s getting any sex, is anyone’s guess.’
‘Well at least she’s not permanently trying to remember which accent she’s supposed to be putting on,’ stormed Jennifer, livid beyond belief, springing up from the sofa and heading for the bedroom. Arguing while wearing pyjamas was making her feel weird. She needed jeans and a jumper for this.
She had been so happy when Karen had got together with Pete at the end of university. Her friend was at last happy, and although nobody could have predicted that after a whole two years of living under the same roof, barely noticing one another, she and Pete would have finally found each other (underneath a pile of coats in Jim’s room to be precise), it had taken the pressure off Jennifer enormously. ‘At least Karen’s got a personality unlike the almost mute freak that is Sean,’ she yelled from the bedroom where she had already yanked on some knickers and jeans and was in the process of doing up her bra.
‘And at least he’s got a brain and knows what he wants out of life,’ retorted Tim.
And in that instant Jennifer stopped feeling angry and went cold. And a fraction of a second later she decided that she might be finished. Because actually, deep, deep down, she knew that what he’d said earlier was probably right. With Tim she did turn into a harridan, a nag, a banshee. His success made her feel inadequate and yet didn’t inspire her to do anything about her own situation. Instead it merely fed her permanent sense of insecurity. Did she love him? She didn’t really know, so perhaps that answered that one. Did she like him? Sometimes. She loved the way he challenged and stimulated her intellectually. Did she admire him? Hugely. There was something about Tim that screamed ‘I AM GOING PLACES’. But did she want to go with him? She was no longer entirely sure she had the energy or the desire to. If she really thought about it she might possibly love his flat more than him. It was a tricky one though, a dilemma. There would be plenty of girls lining up to take her place if it came up for grabs. And no doubt they’d happily dress up like bloody Minnie Mouse if it made him happy. Was this something she’d regret further down the line? Would she ever meet anyone else as eligible? Was the fear of ending up alone enough reason to stick with a relationship that didn’t really make her happy?
Pulling a sweater over her head she decided what to do and as her decision was made she was flooded with an eerie sense of calm.
‘Tim,’ she said, wandering back into the sitting room.
‘
What?’
‘I can’t do this any more. We don’t really make one another happy so why are we bothering? I think we should call it a day.’
‘What?’ he repeated, completely thrown. He sunk down onto the nearest sofa, pulling his trousers at the thigh in order to achieve a bit of give, an action which reminded her of something her dad would do.
‘I just think we should admit defeat,’ she added more gently. ‘You see, you’re right, I do spend far too much time having a go at you, mainly because I get jealous of how much attention you pay your work all the time.’
There, she’d said it.
Tim sighed. ‘And I only get frustrated because I know how much potential you have and it irritates me to see you procrastinating all the time and never actually…actioning anything.’
‘Which just goes to show how different we are as people and that we’d probably be better off without one another,’ she said flatly, knowing she was right and just wishing she’d had the balls to say it about two years earlier.
Tim got up and paced the room. ‘You’re wrong,’ he said.
‘Am I?’ said Jennifer.
‘Totally wrong,’ he said firmly. ‘You’re right for me, Drew. Opposites attract and I don’t really mind your inertia. It’s only you I worry about because I know not having any direction gets to you. Personally I wouldn’t care if you never did anything because I’m more than happy to take care of you. You know I am. You know I’m an old-fashioned bloke at heart and I have no problem with men taking care of the finances and women looking after the home.’
‘We’re not living in the dark ages,’ she spluttered. ‘I don’t want looking after thank you and I don’t necessarily want to be a ruddy housewife either.’ Jennifer was surprised by her own use of the word ‘necessarily’. It was as though she was hedging her bets and disappointingly meant Tim was probably right. She really didn’t know what she wanted out of life.
‘Oh well that really is a load of crap if you don’t mind me saying,’ said Tim. ‘Of course you do. I’ve been looking out for you ever since we met, but I’m saying that I don’t mind. I like it.’
Now Jennifer was completely on the back foot. Was that really how he’d seen it all these years? As though she’d been some pathetic freeloading sap he’d had to look out for. And anyway, what exactly had he done for her? Though even as this last thought was formulated she was already thinking back to university and of all the times Tim had bailed her out. Of all the times he’d ‘taken care of’ a phone bill she couldn’t afford. Of how much food she used to squirrel out of his fridge, secretly acknowledging that she was saving herself a few quid each time. She hardly ever paid when they went out and when she did, she used to make a thing of it, making sure he got the message. Ultimately however, if she had occasionally taken advantage of his deep pockets it had only been because she knew he could more than afford it and because he never minded. She felt ashamed. It was time to get a backbone.
‘Well, I do mind you saying,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to be taken care of and I wasn’t really aware that I had been or that you’d noticed. I mean, you’ve always been very generous but I wasn’t aware I was riding on some Tim Purcell gravy train.’
‘Oh come on, Drew,’ he said, ‘don’t give me that bullshit. And don’t make some big issue out of it. I like that you’re a bit scatty, that you’re quirky. I need that. It’s a good foil for me. You’re funny, you’re sweet. I like your little eccentricities.’
Jennifer gulped and felt really, really sad that in two and a half years this was the first time he’d been able to articulate what it was he liked about her. She’d always wondered.
‘You make me sound a bit…simple.’
‘Well, I have to say Drew, at times I do wonder.’
Tim’s attempt at a joke wasn’t appreciated though.
‘My name’s Jennifer,’ she said firmly, annoyed at his constant use of her surname as a term of endearment. ‘Not Drew. Just Jennifer. I am not a public school boy.’
Tim’s face was grim, his eyes flinty and confused. She could practically see his mind racing, so desperate was he to regain control of the situation. For a split second she felt really angry with him because actually he was quite controlling in a passive aggressive kind of way and perhaps if he hadn’t put her down as much as he had she might have a bit more confidence in herself.
‘So what are you saying? Do you want a break?’
‘No,’ she said quietly, ‘I think we should split up. I’m saying that while we’ve had some great times, we’ve forgotten how to have fun and that we’re only young so that’s not on. I’m saying that we don’t necessarily bring out the best in each other and that I don’t want to compete with reUNIon any more. I’m really sorry.’
Tim gazed at her in shock from across the room and if she’d had any small lingering doubts as to whether or not she was doing the right thing they now all disappeared, because there wasn’t just a physical distance between them but a whole aching chasm of wrongness. If she ended up lonely and depressed for the rest of her life so be it. It was surely better to be single than in a vaguely dysfunctional relationship.
She waited patiently, expecting Tim to digest what she had said, to think logically about it, before analysing the facts and then to interpret and manage them dispassionately. To her surprise though, instead he did something very out of character and that she never would have expected. He cried.
‘Don’t do this, Jen,’ he pleaded, his blue eyes suddenly brimming with surprised desperation and tears.
For a while she didn’t reply. She was simply too surprised by his…surprise.
‘I just don’t think we bring out the best in each other,’ she repeated, now feeling a definite and very welcome sense of relief about having formed her decision. It was then that she realised just how many doubts she must have been having for some time now. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘I can’t believe you’re being such a bitch,’ said Tim.
‘Don’t get nasty,’ she warned.
‘I have done nothing but love you,’ he ranted. ‘And this is how you repay me. How could you?’
She sighed and not wanting to continue the scene went to get her stuff from the bedroom. Though she’d probably leave the police woman outfit where it was.
‘Just think about it for a few days, Drew…um…Jen. Just don’t do this on a whim, you’ll regret it.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she repeated. ‘I’ve made up my mind.’
She gathered all her stuff into her holdall and switched on her phone. How odd. She had eight new text messages and the voicemail symbol was flashing. The first message she read simply said ‘have you seen the news?’.
‘Weird,’ said Jennifer.
‘What?’ said Tim, looking fairly pitiful. His tears were terribly disconcerting. So out of character. They didn’t suit him.
‘Switch on the telly a moment,’ she instructed, and when he ignored her she went back into the lounge and did it herself.
Within seconds the reason she had so many messages, five of which were from her devastated mother, became clear. Princess Diana had died.
For the next three hours what had just passed between them became irrelevant, unimportant and completely secondary to the story which was unfolding on the news. Tim and Jennifer sat gazing at the footage in shock, feeling desperately sad. Jennifer was in floods and Tim was pretty choked, which was unexpected given that he was completely anti-royalist. A long while was spent wondering how it was that things could change so irrevocably on the turn of a sixpence before Jennifer finally felt able to wrench herself away from the telly to make her journey back to her mum and dad’s. As she said goodbye she suspected it was the last time she would see Tim. Deep down she doubted they’d remain friends.
She was partially right. It was the last time Jennifer would see Tim in the flesh and yet a mere twelve months later there was no escaping his face and she saw him practically every day. For when reUNIon finally, possibly inevitably,
took off, it was everywhere, and so therefore was Tim, including, on one occasion, on the ten o’clock news.
THE PAST—MAX
2006
‘Off out somewhere?’ Jennifer’s boss Janine half yelled after her departing back.
‘Er, family dinner, but I’ll be in early tomorrow.’
‘No problem,’ replied Janine, wafting her hand in an airy manner, obviously designed to suggest that she was totally cool either way, when clearly she wasn’t. Clearly she was actually flabbergasted that, shock horror, Jennifer was doing the unthinkable and committing a huge office offence by, wait for it…leaving on time.
It annoyed Jennifer. Strictly speaking her hours were nine thirty till six but her colleagues were miserably competitive. Staying at their desks later than was really required had practically become a professional sport, meaning anyone wishing to attempt some sort of a life during the week appeared to be slacking.
Still, she wasn’t going to fret about that now. She had bigger things to think about.
Half an hour later, she emerged from Clapham North tube and as she headed purposefully in the direction of home, she ended up breaking into a trot, unable to prevent a wide grin from spreading across her face. She had the distinct feeling that passers-by must be able to tell that she was a spectacularly clever and useful creature just by looking at her.
Happily, Max had obeyed orders and arrived home as promptly as she had.
As soon as she walked in the door, he looked up and raised an eyebrow, not wanting to pre-empt what she was about to say but unable to hide his anticipation.
By way of reply she simply nodded, eyes shining, and to fully prove it, pulled out the stick she’d urinated on eight long hours ago now. She loved what that stick had told her so much, she’d allowed it to remain alongside the luxury lining of her beloved Miu Miu handbag, despite the fact it had wee on it.
‘I knew it,’ said Max, punching the air and leaping up to come and hug her. ‘Oh Jen, you clever, clever thing. That’s amazing. When did you find out?’