You Sent Me a Letter

by Lucy Dawson

  ‘Hey!’ I said, hurt. ‘And that’s exactly how it should be. I’m not saying that for one moment.’

  ‘Then what are you saying? Christ!’ He leant back in his chair and closed his eyes. ‘I’ve just had a row with her – do I have to have one with you now, too?’

  My mouth fell open. There was the problem, right there, in a nutshell: I was always the second in line. ‘You really don’t get it, do you?’

  ‘No, apparently I don’t.’ He sighed crossly. ‘Look, I didn’t realize we were on a timescale here—’

  It was my turn to frown. ‘That’s not what I meant, either.’

  ‘Really? You’re sure about that? I’ve told you I love you. You’ve met my kids… What else did you want to have happened by now? You want me to move in? Fine, I’ll move in!’

  There was a long pause. ‘Wow,’ I said eventually. ‘That was romantic. Yes, please…’

  He exhaled slowly. ‘OK, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to come out like that. It’s not that I don’t get it… I know that you’re thirty–nine, and—’

  I gasped, blindsided. ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Oh, come on,’ he challenged wearily. ‘So I’m wrong? That isn’t what this is about?’

  ‘I should just shut up and be grateful for whatever I get, you mean?’ I stood up. ‘You know what, Marc? Claudine’s welcome to you.’

  I was so angry with him, I meant it.

  ‘Sophie, I’m not your ex,’ he said clearly. ‘It’s not my fault he was a gutless bastard who didn’t have the balls to tell you he wasn’t ever going to marry you—’

  If that was his attempt at being conciliatory, it was way, way off the mark. Managing not to wince at such a pinpoint-accurate summation of Josh, I steadied my voice and said quietly, ‘The implication that I’ve been waiting for a Mr Right to deign to marry me before it’s “too late” is offensive in the extreme. For your information, I am complete already.’

  ‘Oh, God.’ Marc rolled his eyes. ‘I don’t want the Germaine Greer lecture either. I never said you weren’t “complete”. You’re “completely” over-reacting.’

  ‘That’s exactly what you said. And as for Josh, no one ever really knows what goes on in someone else’s relationship except the couple concerned. Don’t be so arrogant as to assume you get what happened with Josh and me, based on what little I have chosen to tell you, because you don’t.’

  ‘But you, on the other hand, understand the situation perfectly with me and Claudine?’ He was beginning to flare up again. ‘I can’t let her go, I’m still in love with her… That’s what you think? Never mind I’ve been working my nuts off to get a divorce!’

  ‘I think you’re still very angry with her for what she did and—’

  ‘This is bullshit.’ He stood up suddenly and grabbed his jacket. ‘I don’t have to listen to you patronizing me.’

  ‘And I’m not prepared to be anyone’s second best!’ I shouted after him, then stood there, waiting… but the front door slammed. He didn’t come back that night.

  Or the following night.

  I refused to let myself call him. Not only was I hugely hurt, I genuinely felt I deserved an apology and I really meant what I’d said: I didn’t want to feel like the consolation prize. That was a road I had no intention of going down ever again. But I felt less resolute the next morning when I received a text, which read simply: I’m sorry, but I can’t do this. I need to be alone.

  Everything we’d been building over the last eight months, the layers of our lives that had delicately woven together, ripped straight down the middle. I couldn’t believe what I was reading. What the hell kind of message was that to send after the best part of a year together? He needed to be alone permanently? Was that what he meant? Or he needed space to think? I immediately tried to call, but he didn’t pick up. Confused, I didn’t leave a message.

  Either way, he very obviously didn’t want to speak to me.

  I rang Lou instead. ‘So what do I do? Just wait? How long do you give someone before you have to accept that’s it?’

  ‘If it were me, and I hadn’t heard from him in another couple of days, I’d walk away.’

  ‘Really?’ My eyebrows flickered.

  ‘Oh, my darling Soph.’ Lou sighed. ‘Yes! That’s what most people do when someone treats them badly. They don’t hang about for the next decade waiting for things to get better. I could kill Marc for doing this to you!’

  There was a pause. ‘It wasn’t like that. I told him I wasn’t prepared to be second best. I made that very clear.’

  ‘Well, that’s something at least.’

  ‘But I think I might give it a little longer than a couple of days, and see where the land lies then.’

  ‘Why not.’ She said it with an exaggerated patience that I deliberately didn’t rise to. ‘Whatever you think best.’

  But, incredibly, two weeks passed, and nothing…

  Two weeks and one day, to be precise.

  I looked around the packed pub while Nadia hopefully waved a twenty-pound note under the nose of a bored-looking barman, who was nodding his head slightly to the overpowering beat as he confidently filled several stacked pints from the tap. The couple of large glasses of wine we’d already got through were starting to kick in, and I was feeling rather proud of myself for not slinking off home.

  ‘Excuse me.’ A suited arm reached over our heads to pick up two of the lagers, some of which slopped over my wrist and hand in transit.

  ‘Careful!’ I turned, frowning – to see Rich, Lou’s husband, looking down at me in surprise.

  ‘Soph!’ he said, holding the drinks a little wider as he leant in and gave me a quick kiss. I smelt a mixture of booze and sandalwood as his stubble scratched my cheek. ‘Sorry about that.’ He nodded at the stain on my sleeve. ‘I thought I was about to get an earful then.’

  I grinned. ‘As it’s you, I’ll let you off. What are you doing here?’

  He gave me a deadpan look. ‘The shortlist for the Elite Awards was announced today, recognizing the achievements of our sales persons who have outperformed their targets.’

  I pulled a face.

  ‘Exactly. We’ve brought them all out to “celebrate” in advance of the proper winner announcement next week. Actually, it’s a pretty good gig. Twenty of them from the worldwide offices, and their wives or husbands, get taken off to some exotic location for a long weekend – five-star hotel, golf, spas, that kind of thing.’

  ‘And senior management tag along for the jolly?’

  ‘Yup.’ He winked. ‘Although Lou is already saying she doesn’t want to come this year.’ He sighed. ‘It’s in New York and she says that’s too far to be away from the kids. She was meant to be here tonight too, but the babysitter didn’t turn up.’

  Hmmm. That old get-out clause. More like Lou couldn’t be bothered and now had her PJs on with her feet up in front of the TV.

  ‘It was actually quite important that she came – not so much to this bit, admittedly – but all of the other wives are here. She said she’s going to try and find someone else and still make it, but…’ He shrugged.

  If anyone was capable of dredging up a last-minute sitter from nowhere, it was Lou. She would have if she’d wanted to.

  I smiled and remained diplomatically silent.

  ‘Anyway, how are you? Sorry to hear about you and Marc.’

  My smile slipped. I’d specifically asked Lou not to tell anyone. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I think you’re well shot, to be honest, Soph,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘The guy was an arse. What are you drinking?’

  ‘I’m fine, thanks. My friend is getting them.’ I nodded over at Nadia, who was now deep in conversation with the person standing next to her, still holding the twenty-pound note.

  ‘Hmmm,’ Rich said doubtfully. ‘Well, I’ll get you one to have in the meantime. Sorry, mate, and a glass of champagne, please,’ he called over to the barman, who nodded.

  Rich turned and handed his pints, and the
remaining ones on the bar, to someone else, then passed me my glass. ‘Here’s to freedom and fresh starts. Right, I’d better go and do the work schmoozy bit.’ He suddenly looked gloomy. ‘Lou’s so much better at this bit than me. Bloody babysitter… See you later!’ He bent and gave me another kiss and then began to cut through the crowd.

  Nadia appeared instantly at my shoulder. ‘And that is—?’

  ‘Rich.’

  She gave me a suggestive look.

  ‘God, no.’ I laughed. ‘Lou’s husband. My best friend, Lou?’ I elaborated as she looked back at me blankly.

  ‘Blimey.’ She turned and looked at Rich’s departing back. ‘He’s a bit familiar for a best friend’s husband, isn’t he?’

  ‘I’ve known him for years. We were all at university together. In fact, I dated him before Lou did.’

  ‘Ah,’ she said in satisfaction, as if I’d just solved a puzzle for her.

  ‘When I say dated, I’m talking no more than a two-week thing. And everyone dated everyone then. Four of my friends from one house shagged the same bloke at various points – he just kept turning up at breakfast. But you do that sort of thing when you’re twenty, don’t you?’

  ‘Well, obviously you did!’ She laughed. ‘The things you learn about people…! Anyway, I’ve got your drink.’

  I hesitated, then took it with my free hand.

  ‘Look at you!’ Nadia remarked. ‘Mrs I’m-only-having-two. I didn’t realize you meant one for each hand. Marc needs to let you out with us more often!’

  I stiffened briefly, and then took a large mouthful of my champagne. I wasn’t going to think about Marc. Interesting that Rich had said he thought he was an arse, though. I’d never once got that impression from him.

  The more drunk I became on my empty stomach, the more his comment played on my mind. An arse in what way, exactly? I got to my feet abruptly, leaving the shrieks of shot-fuelled laughter from our collective tables, and wove off in search of Rich and some answers.

  I couldn’t see him anywhere, though. The crowds had thinned out slightly and I decided he must have left. Disappointed, I was about to return to the work lot when I suddenly noticed him sitting in a dark booth talking to a pretty redhead who was most certainly not my best friend. They were sitting very close and both drinking champagne. It looked extremely cosy indeed. I thought of Nadia’s earlier comment about his familiarity and, without a second thought, I marched over to them.

  ‘May I have a word?’ I said frostily, as they both looked up in surprise.

  ‘Sure,’ Rich said easily, and got to his feet.

  I strode off, bumping into a table as I careered across to the other side of the room so that we would be out of earshot, at which point I swung around furiously, only to realize he was laughing.

  ‘Are you all right, Soph? You looked like you were trying to dodge a crocodile for a moment there.’

  I stared at him, completely thrown. ‘What?’

  ‘A crocodile,’ he said, yawning slightly. ‘They can only run in straight lines, so if you need to escape from one, you zigzag. And you were zigzagging a-plenty just then.’ He swayed slightly.

  ‘You’re pissed,’ I said. ‘What the hell are you talking about, crocodiles?’

  ‘It’s true,’ he protested. ‘Google it. And I’m not the one cannoning off the furniture.’

  I blinked. ‘Yes, well, we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you, flirting with little Miss Hendricks over there, like Lou doesn’t exist.’

  His smile faded. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘I’m not blind, Richard,’ I retorted. ‘I could see exactly what was going on. Finish your drink and go home to your wife.’

  ‘Fuck off,’ he said suddenly.

  Shocked, I took a step back. ‘What did you just say?’

  ‘I said fuck off,’ he repeated angrily. ‘You don’t know the first thing you’re talking about. How bloody dare you, sitting in your ivory tower like you have all the answers. “Go home to your wife”? How patronizing can you get? Who the hell do you think you are?’

  I was stunned – he was really angry. And also the second man in as many weeks to tell me I was patronizing. My eyes pricked with tears as the confrontations with Rich and Marc drunkenly morphed into one. I gave a sob, turned and fled back to my colleagues.

  Nadia, pale and shakily looking as if she was about to puke, was being led off to the loo by two girls from Accounts, as everyone else chanted ‘Ben! Ben! Ben!’ at the man of the moment as he downed several Jägerbombs back to back, retched slightly, tried to sit down and completely missed his chair.

  In the gales of laughter that followed, no one noticed me pick up my coat and bag. I barely looked at the two bouncers who said, ‘Goodnight,’ and held the door open for me.

  Rushing out into the cold February air, tears streaming down my face, I looked around desperately for a cab to take me to the station. There wasn’t one, and I just stood there stupidly for a moment, unable to think what to do.

  A couple of blokes smoking by the door started to eye me with inebriated curiosity. Shit, one of them was starting to come over. I edged away nervously, willing a taxi to appear with all my heart. I just wanted to go home.

  ‘Soph!’ I heard a shout behind me and turned to see Rich clattering down the pub steps. The random bloke shrugged and turned back to his mates as Rich hurried over.

  I deliberately turned my back and started off up the street. As he chased after me, another of the men cat-called, ‘Don’t think you’re getting it tonight, mate. I wouldn’t bother.’

  ‘Soph, wait!’ Rich panted up to me. ‘Where are you going?’

  I actually had no idea.

  ‘Jesus, you walk fast.’ He grabbed my arm.

  ‘Get off!’ I tried to pull myself free.

  ‘You’re crying?’ he said, surprised. ‘Oh, shit. Sophie, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean it, I—’

  But it was too late. I burst into yet more noisy, pissed and snotty sobs, like my heart was breaking.

  ‘Come here!’ He pulled me into a warm hug and wrapped his arms tightly around me, making us both almost wobble over. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t flirting with her, though. I wasn’t doing anything, I swear!’

  My tears soaked into the lapel of his overcoat as he began to pat my back, and then rub it.

  ‘Can you not do that?’ I said after a moment. ‘It’s making me want to be sick.’

  ‘Sorry,’ he said again.

  I pulled back and looked up him exhaustedly, squinting slightly as some prat in a parked car over the road from the pub accidentally put their lights on full beam. ‘I want to go home.’

  ‘I’ll get you a cab.’ He took my hand and began to drag me up the street. ‘I’m sure we’ll find one up here,’ he said confidently.

  I sat down on a bench and put my head in my hands as everything began to spin slightly, while Rich tried to hail a taxi by standing in the middle of what was quite a busy main road and shouting, ‘Oi!’ I realized I’d had way too much to drink and silently pleaded with God to make me feel better.

  ‘Soph!’

  I roused myself and opened my eyes to see Rich standing next to a mini-cab with the back door open. I began to protest about safety but he waved an arm. ‘I’ll take you all the way back to yours, and then go home from there. What? Of course it’s not too far! I’ll just expense it. C’mon.’

  We both flopped in, the door closed and we lurched off, slipping around on the badly fitting velour seat covers. The cab smelt strongly of pine needles and stale fags. Rich’s head was already lolling forwards onto his chest. I closed my eyes and tried to focus hard on not being sick as my stomach sloshed around inside me like a wet blancmange. I think I came to halfway home, blinking and peering out of the window in confusion, not really recognizing where I was. I turned to look briefly at Rich, who now had his head back on the seat and was snoring.

  A vague memory of waking up next to him twenty years ago, us lying in my single
student bed, stirred somewhere in my head, before I closed my eyes again.

  ‘I said EXCUSE ME!’

  I woke with a jolt to find the taxi driver shouting at Rich and me, and realized to my surprise that we were holding hands.

  Rich pulled away and began to fumble around in his wallet for some cash.

  I climbed out unsteadily into the cold air and began to stagger up the small drive. I tried to find my keys for what felt like an age, and then couldn’t get any of them into the lock.

  ‘Here, I’ll do it.’ Rich, who was now, for some reason, standing behind me, reached over and took them. I looked at him in confusion, and realized the cab had gone. ‘S’not the right ones,’ Rich said conclusively, and my attention returned to the more pressing conundrum of getting in, as I wordlessly took them back and tried again, then again.

  The lock was briefly illuminated as a sudden bright light flashed on, making Rich swear and painfully scrunch his eyes shut, although I almost managed to get the key in… but then it went off again just as abruptly, plunging us back into darkness.

  ‘Just put it back on, so you can see,’ Rich slurred.

  ‘I didn’t do anything. Next door’s cat must have set off their security thingy.’

  ‘I’m telling you, it’s not the right key—’

  ‘It’s my house.’ I glared up at him mutinously and had another go, at which the door swung open. ‘Ha!’ I turned back to him triumphantly.

  He gave me a strange look, then suddenly ducked his head and kissed me on the lips.

  ‘What are you—’ I gasped, but before I could say anything more, he was kissing me again. I automatically closed my eyes and, as we tumbled in backwards through the door, it felt as if we were beginning to hurtle in reverse on some sort of manic theme park ride, like I was rushing past streams of bright lights, falling back twenty years to the tiny bedroom in my halls: Rich frantically stripping off his white, tight T-shirt to reveal his gap-year tanned torso, and me wriggling out of my denim cut-offs… Only somehow we weren’t there after all, we were in my hall at home, and it was my blouse coming off and Rich’s work shirt. Then we were already in bed, and it wasn’t the single one I’d had back then, but mine and Marc’s. I was gasping again, while vaguely aware that we were both naked and, before I knew it, we were having sex.