by Mike Gayle
Determined not to give her the pleasure of knowing she’d unsettled me, and without going into any pleasantries at all, I told Melissa what I was after and asked if she would pass the message on to Paul when he returned home. Half an hour later Paul returned my call, brusque and to the point and so, mirroring his manners, I said that I didn’t care about the other things but I wanted my necklace back immediately. And so we arranged to meet after work in town on the Monday of the following week.
I stood under the awning outside the HMV store on Market Street watching hordes of sales shoppers making their way through the rain. Paul was over ten minutes late, allegedly because of a meeting that over-ran. He was different from how he had been on the phone. He even tried to make small talk but I was too angry to respond. He took the necklace out of his jacket pocket and handed me a small black holdall with the rest of my belongings.
‘I’m really sorry,’ he said. ‘About everything. You didn’t deserve this. None of this was your fault.’
I didn’t reply. I just took my things from him and walked away.
That was weeks ago now and I’d neither seen nor heard from him since.
Opening my eyes I looked at the digital display on the DVD player under the TV. It was getting late and I could feel a sense of despair rising in me at the thought that time was running out. Glancing from the clock on the video to the phone on the table and back again, I decided to try him again later and called my sister Jessica instead.
Melissa
It was just after nine-thirty and Paul and I were standing outside Charlotte and Cameron’s imposing three-storey Edwardian house in Didsbury, finding it hard to believe that we actually knew people who owned houses as big as this.
‘This is amazing,’ I said as we stood staring up at it. ‘Everything from the front door through to the huge sash windows seems like it’s been built on a larger scale than normal houses. It’s like a palace for giants.’ I sighed. ‘I’m in love with this place and I haven’t even been inside it yet.’
Paul grinned. ‘Maybe I’ll buy you one, one day . . . if you’re good.’
‘What with? Brass buttons?’
Paul squeezed my hand. ‘I have my ways.’
Despite having been back together just under a month, we hadn’t told anyone about us yet although I reckoned that Vicky had her suspicions. She had grilled me several times about New Year’s Eve and had seemed less than convinced by my answers. Tonight, at Charlotte and Cameron’s, we were finally going to go public.
‘So, are you ready for this, or what?’ I asked.
‘You’re making too big a deal about it,’ said Paul. ‘No one will care one way or the other that we’re back together.’
‘Just you wait and see,’ I said knowingly.
I rang the doorbell and waited and after a few moments Charlotte came to the door and welcomed us both in, with Cameron right behind her. I hadn’t seen them since last summer at Cooper and Laura’s barbecue so I was really pleased to be there.
‘It’s great to see you, Charlie.’ I kissed her on the cheek. ‘You look so well and your house is amazing.’
Before Charlotte and I could have a proper catch-up the doorbell rang again and so while Paul and Cameron started exchanging opinions on City’s recent form I stood on my own admiring the Minton tiled floor, the framed prints (a couple of Miros, an Andy Warhol and a Modigliani) and the rectangular mirror above the arty-looking radiator and found myself wondering whether one day Paul and I could ever have a place of our own just as nice as this.
As more people arrived, Paul and I eventually gravitated from the hallway to the back room before making our way to the kitchen, greeting people as we went. In the kitchen we finally found our friends huddled in conversation in front of Charlotte and Cameron’s huge American-style fridge. No one commented on the fact that Paul and I had arrived together: the boys automatically shared out a four-pack of Stella refusing Laura’s offer of a glass because ‘it would ruin the drinking experience as a whole’. Laura rolled her eyes, while I inwardly chastised myself for finding Coop’s comment even faintly amusing. Vicky grabbed a half-full bottle of rose from the kitchen counter and shared it out between herself, me and Laura.
‘This place is beautiful,’ said Vicky deliberately taking in the whole room. ‘How much do you reckon they paid for it?’
Charlotte and Cameron’s kitchen was like something out of a magazine. All the units were in gloss white and all the appliances were made from stainless steel and were so spotless they must have been brand new.
‘I shudder to think,’ replied Laura. ‘Just the thought of getting a mortgage makes me feel sick.’
I looked over at Paul to see if now was the right time to break our big news. He gave me the nod and so I called for everyone’s attention.
‘I know this is going to sound a bit weird,’ I began, ‘and that it will probably all end in tears, but I just want you all to know that Paul and I . . . well, we’ve sort of got back together.’
Unable to hide his look of disbelief, Chris turned to Paul for confirmation.
‘Look,’ said Paul, ‘it’s no big deal, all right? We’ve been back together since New Year’s Eve and things are going great and I for one think that’s pretty much all you need to know.’
‘You’ve obviously both lost your minds!’ Chris was wide-eyed. ‘Let’s put this to a vote, shall we? Raise you hand in the air if you agree with Mr Rogers here when he says that he and Melissa getting back together is – and I quote – “no big deal”?’
Vicky and Laura shook their heads in a disapproving manner but neither of them put their hands in the air.
‘And who agrees with me,’ continued Chris, ‘when I say that them getting back together is probably the biggest deal of this century so far?’
Chris and Cooper waved their hands in the air like overly excited school boys.
‘Then, it’s just as well that neither of us gives a toss one way or the other what any of you lot think,’ said Paul, grinning. ‘Now, unless we’re going to sit here all night dissecting the repercussions of what is essentially none of your business, might I suggest that we get on with drinking beer and talking nonsense?’
Grateful that the underlying tension of the moment was over everyone laughed and moved on to other topics.
‘I’m sorry about that,’ said Laura after a few moments.
‘It’s okay,’ I replied.
Vicky gave me a hug. ‘You must get sick of people like us doom-mongering about anything to do with you and Paul.’
I laughed. ‘I do get a bit sick of it but it’s not like I blame you all. Even I’m a little bit freaked by everything that’s happened.’
Vicky nodded. ‘But things are going well?’
‘Couldn’t be better. Things are different.’
‘Different how?’
‘It’s hard to say exactly. It’s more him that’s changed than me. It’s like . . . I don’t know . . . he’s finally grown up.’ I paused. ‘I know how this looks. You think it’s like watching the first five minutes of a disaster film where you’re just waiting for something to go wrong. I know why you feel like that. If I hadn’t seen the way he is now, or heard first-hand the things that he has been saying to me, well I’d be waiting for it all to go wrong too. I mean he’s not exactly what you’d call a safe bet. He’s Paul. The original scourge of womankind. If the tables were turned I wouldn’t think twice about advising the two of you to run for the hills. But like I said, he’s changed. And I like what I see now. I like it more than ever.’
Vicky smiled warmly. ‘Then I’m thrilled for you.’
‘Me too,’ said Laura.
‘Really?’
‘Absolutely.’
Hearing my friends say this made me feel genuinely relieved. Things were going to be good this time. Us getting back together wasn’t going to be the disaster everyone thought. This really would be my happy ever after.
Chris
It was just after eleven and
I was outside having a cigarette and sharing my opinion on the big news with Vicky. Since Paul and Melissa had dropped their bombshell we had all been grinning like idiots, wishing them well and reassuring them everything really would be okay.
‘It just makes me feel a bit weird,’ I explained. ‘The idea of the two of them getting back together . . . I don’t know . . . it’s not going to work, is it? Paul’s not right for her and she’s not right for him and the whole thing is just going to blow up in their faces.’
Vicky nodded. ‘I know what you mean. Sometimes I look at our friends’ lives, not just Melissa and Paul’s, and I can’t help but think that—’
‘– you’re glad you’re not them?’
‘No,’ said Vicky quickly. ‘That’s an awful thing to say. I love them to bits.’
‘I’m not saying you don’t.’
‘Good.’
‘It’s just that I feel a bit mean for saying it, that’s all.’
‘You haven’t actually said anything yet. Maybe you should start with Cooper and Laura. They’re always good for a laugh.’
‘I don’t understand what they’re doing,’ continued Vicky. ‘They’ve been together ages and he’s absolutely mad about her and yet I always get the feeling that Laura’s not all that bothered.’
‘You haven’t told her that he’s going to propose, have you?’
‘No, of course not. But I’ve got a horrible feeling that she’s going to turn him down. I just wish that if she wasn’t serious about him she’d let him go so he could find someone who would really appreciate him.’
I laughed. ‘Maybe you should put yourself forward as a candidate.’
‘Trust you to twist things around like that! Don’t get me wrong, I love Laura, but I worry that they’re not right for each other. And I worry that they’re going to miss out on what they really want by being with each other.’
‘They’ll be fine. Once you get to our age you don’t split up unless things are really, really bad. None of us can face the idea of going back to the beginning because we’ve all travelled too far to where we are to make it worth the effort.’
Vicky shot me another disapproving look. ‘So you’re saying they’ll stay together out of laziness?’
‘I wouldn’t call it laziness exactly. Maybe realism would be a better word.’
‘Realism?’
‘Or pragmatism. Anything that basically means accepting the first truth of being in your thirties: that you can’t always get what you want but that what you’ve got is always going to be better than nothing.’
‘Is that why we’ve lasted as long as we have? Pragmatism?’
‘No.’
‘Then why are we still together?’
‘How am I supposed to answer that without giving you the ammunition to make my life a misery? No thanks. I’ll keep schtum.’
‘You can have a free pass,’ said Vicky. ‘Say what you like without fear of me having a go.’
‘Like that free pass you gave me when you asked me if I thought you were turning into your mother?’ I shook my head. ‘Never again.’
‘A real free pass this time. No retribution whatsoever.’
‘No, thanks,’ I replied having mulled over her proposition for all of half a second. ‘I think we’re on safer ground talking about Melissa and Paul.’
Hannah
By the time I ended my marathon phone conversation with my sister it was just after eleven. And of the many things that she said to me the one thing that she was adamant about was that I was making a big mistake even thinking about calling Paul tonight. Time and time again she kept coming back to it until she almost convinced me that she was right. Calling Paul wasn’t just a bad idea. It was the worst idea that I had ever had. But as I started getting ready for bed, taking off my make-up and brushing my teeth, I found myself taking one last look at my mobile lying on the table in the hallway to see if I’d missed any calls and before I’d even fully realised what I was doing I had dialled his number.
‘Hello?’
I could hear music and talking in the background as though he was at a party or out at a bar somewhere in town.
‘It’s me, Hannah,’ I said thinking how odd it was hearing his voice after being apart these past few weeks. ‘I really need to talk to you.’
There was a long silence – the sound of someone clearly caught off guard.
‘It’s really late,’ he said eventually. ‘Can’t it wait?’
‘No, it can’t,’ I replied. ‘I need to talk to you right now. I wouldn’t ask if it didn’t mean a lot to me, Paul. You know that.’ I could feel myself starting to cry. ‘Please, I’m asking just this one thing. This one thing and then I swear on my life you’ll never have to do this again.’
‘If it’s so important,’ he sighed, ‘why don’t you just tell me now and get it over with?’
‘I can’t,’ I explained. ‘I need to see you in person.’
‘Look, Hannah,’ he began, ‘I’m really sorry but I think you ought to know that I’m seeing someone, okay? So if this is about you and me getting back together it’s not going to happen.’
This was hardly big news. I couldn’t imagine Paul staying on his own for long. I briefly wondered who it might be but it was too miserable a thought.
‘It’s not about getting back together, I promise you. Look, if you give me twenty minutes to get ready and drive over to wherever you are we can talk and you can go right back to your friends, okay? I just need a few minutes of your time. I’m begging you, please.’
There was one last long silence.
‘Five minutes,’ he said. ‘Five minutes and then I’m gone.’
Vicky
It was nearly half past eleven and Charlotte and I were standing in the hallway reminiscing about our time at Northbridge Primary when Cameron came up and asked where the spare tea towels were as someone had spilt red wine on the sofa. At the mention of the words ‘red wine’ in conjunction with ‘sofa’ Charlotte sprung to life as if she was a doctor on ER and ordered Cameron to look for soda water while she disappeared to assess the damage.
Now seemed as good a time as any to go to the loo and I joined the queue outside the bathroom upstairs, thinking about my earlier conversation with Chris. As close as Melissa and I were, sometimes I couldn’t even begin to understand how she coped with everything going on in her life. The lack of money, flat-sharing with strangers, and especially her latest saga with Paul. All fine and part of life in general when you’re in your twenties but enough to make me feel sick with tension at the thought of doing it at our time of life.
Not many people know this, but in my entire adult life (starting from the age of seventeen with my very first boyfriend) I’d never actually been single. Not even for a day. When I had first admitted this to Chris he thought I was joking so I gave him a detailed breakdown of my entire relationship CV right on the spot: eight years, three boyfriends, no gaps (but with some minimal overlapping caused by my extricating myself from the guy I was sort of seeing – Alex Deedman – in order to go out with boyfriend number three – Chris Cooper). Though I’d tried to explain to him that my lack of singleness hadn’t been a deliberate strategy, I was afraid Chris would assume my actions made me a cliché of feminine neediness. I’d even contemplated redrawing my CV with a few invented periods of singleness scattered in for good luck but hated the thought of lying to him, even about something so small.
Emerging from the loo some time later I headed downstairs in search of Chris. On my way to the front living room I spotted Chris’s friend Tony. He was holding the hand of a pretty girl with dark brown wavy hair that came down past her shoulders. Looking at her face for a moment I thought I saw a flash of recognition on her face, even though I was sure we hadn’t met before.
‘Long time no see. Have you just turned up?’
Tony flashed me his trademark big grin. ‘We weren’t going to come ’cos Polly wasn’t feeling great, but then I got to thinking how I hadn’t seen some of
this crowd in ages and so with a bit of cajoling she valiantly made the effort. How are you, anyway? You’re looking good. Where’s the old man tonight?’
‘Your guess is as good as mine.’ I smiled at Tony’s friend.
Tony suddenly came to life. ‘Sorry, Vicks,’ he apologised. He turned to Polly. ‘You remember Chris, don’t you? He was the one cooking at Cooper’s barbecue last summer.’
‘I think I know the one you’re on about,’ said Polly amiably. ‘The one who told the Elephant Man story?’
‘Yeah,’ replied Tony. ‘That’s the one. Well, this is Vicky, my mate Chris’s wife. And this,’ continued Tony gesturing to the girl, ‘is Polly Matthews, my girlfriend, best mate and,’ cheesily, ‘the light of my life.’
Chris
Tony and I were friends from back in our early twenties when we’d lived in a houseshare in Rusholme during my final year at university. One Saturday afternoon Tony had got it into his head to get his nose pierced. Rather than getting it done properly however, he opted to get it done on the cheap by a goth girl he fancied two doors down from us who owned her own home-piercing kit. Within hours of putting the stud in his nose the whole side of his face swelled up to the size of a football, thereby earning him the nickname ‘Elephant Man Tony’.
Tony was one of those people to whom this type of thing was always happening and I delighted in telling the stories of his misfortunes to pretty much anyone who would listen, even more so when the person in question was female. So when Tony introduced me to his new girlfriend, Polly, at Cooper and Laura’s barbecue last summer it was almost inevitable that the ‘Elephant Man’ story would get an airing.
‘I can’t believe you went through all that pain just for a girl,’ said Polly, laughing as I finished the story.
‘That’s not the half of it,’ replied Tony. ‘I didn’t even get a look in with the goth girl. She ended up going out with Chris’s mate Paul about a fortnight after that. Turns out she was into guys with normal-shaped heads.’
For a moment or two I felt bad for making Tony look so hopeless in front of his new lady friend and so to balance things out at bit I shared a few stories with Polly that showed him in a slightly better light. Eventually even Tony grew tired of being the centre of attention so he moved on to an altogether different conversation with Cooper, leaving me to entertain Polly (who didn’t know anyone else at the party) on my own.