by GJ Minett
‘Yeah, I’ll be up to it.’
‘Good,’ he said. ‘It’s a date, then.’
And again, even as he said it, he wished he could claw the word back out of the air.
Date, for God’s sake.
OWEN
She’s there waiting for him when he arrives. Bit of a surprise, that. His mother always used to say it’s a woman’s prerogative to be late but he’s started to realise that a lot of things his mother used to say aren’t very reliable. Probably applied more to her than women in general. He’s having to make up his own mind about things more and more lately.
She looks different . . . something she’s done to her hair. It’s shorter, follows the shape of her face more than it used to. Suits her, although he doesn’t think telling her that would be a good start to the evening. She needs to know that just because he’s agreed to meet her and hear what she has to say, that doesn’t mean she’s forgiven. She needn’t think it’s going to be as easy as that.
She already has a glass of red wine in front of her so he asks for a glass of water from the bar. The woman serving wonders if he wants sparkling or something else he doesn’t recognise. He says he just wants water from the tap and she brings him a glass without charging him. He takes it back to the table in the corner of the lounge bar where Abi is waiting for him.
She starts off by apologising again. Says she doesn’t know what was wrong with her back then. Can only assume it was some sort of delayed shock because she’s been the same with everyone – he mustn’t assume it’s just him. Maybe it was finding out that Callum had been seeing someone else. ‘Trust issues’, she kept slipping into the conversation. She had trust issues, lost confidence in herself and everyone around her. Like that excused anything. Says she needed to shut herself away and start rebuilding her life by taking a good look at it and deciding what was worth holding onto. She’s done all that and come out the other side. Thinks she’s got her head straight now.
He’s listening to this with a straight face, determined to give nothing away. He’d like to believe what she’s saying but that’s precisely why he needs to be on his guard. He knows what he’s like, especially when it comes to Abi. He can zip everything up tight and build a protective wall around himself and she’ll still find a way through if he’s not careful. It’s taken him three months to get over what happened. He doesn’t need Willie chirping in his ear to recognise that. Knows how important it will be to keep his defences up.
She asks him how he’s been and he’s not sure what to say. On the way here he was all for embellishing things a little, inventing big projects that would make her think he hasn’t been bent out of shape because of the way she treated him. Now he finds himself going in the opposite direction: not much work around, struggling to fill the gap she created in his schedule. And there’s enough self-knowledge there for him to realise what he’s doing. He wants her to feel guilty. Wants her to understand exactly what she did to him by shutting him out like that, so soon after they’d got back together. So when he talks about his social life, he’s keen for her to see that he doesn’t really have one. Goes to the cinema occasionally – and always on his own. Otherwise he spends his evenings at home. He’s screaming look at what you’ve done without actually saying it, and it’s working because he can see she understands. It’s written all over her face. And it feels good.
He asks her if she’s only brought him here to apologise and she says no. He can tell she’s been working up to something and now she comes out with it. Says she doesn’t know how to ask because she feels she’s sacrificed the right to any favours with the way she’s behaved, but she wonders if he’d be prepared to come back and work on her garden after all, just as they’d planned back in September. The whole area’s a mess and she’s found herself looking at the plans again in the past couple of days, kicking herself for not going ahead with them when she had the chance. They’re so good and she’d really like him to pick up where he left off, perhaps sometime in the spring, because she’s been told all of the investigations into Callum’s finances should have been settled by then. She knows she could simply show the plans to another landscape gardener and ask him to do the work but that would feel like another betrayal and besides . . . she wants him to do it. Does he think he might be prepared to give it some thought at least?
He doesn’t need to. He’s already doing the calculations. But he’s not going to let her know that. There are things he wants to know first – reassurances he’ll need if he’s going to be convinced her apologies are genuine and heartfelt, not just some passing whim that’s come over her. So he asks her about Callum’s dad.
‘What about him?’ she says.
‘I thought he was dead against me doing the g-garden project.’
‘Yes, well . . . it’s not up to him, is it?’ And there’s something in the way she says this – a note of bitterness creeping into her voice – that makes him sit up and take notice.
‘He’s never l-liked me,’ he says, trying to draw her out a little more.
‘I know,’ she says. ‘I didn’t realise back then, but I do now.’ There’s a long pause, during which he forces himself not to ask any questions. Let her get to it in her own way instead. And sure enough she starts to talk to fill the empty space. Tells him about the way Callum’s dad has been behaving in the past few weeks, more or less avoiding her. She’d always thought he was a nice man, a friend even, while Callum was alive but now it’s pretty clear how central his son was to all that. Take him out of the picture and there’s not enough there to keep him interested.
And worse than that, they’ve had an argument. She’d picked up on a bit of an atmosphere every time she mentioned this friend of hers . . . Adam. He obviously didn’t like the relationship. Felt it was inappropriate, given that Callum had been gone for such a short time. And even though she kept insisting it was no more than friendship he seemed to take exception to the fact that it had all started while his son was still alive. Couldn’t get his head around the fact that she’d been with this Adam while Callum was being killed. So they’d had a few sharp words about it one evening and since then they’d seen very little of each other.
‘It’s a bit ironic really,’ she says, draining her glass. ‘I’m not seeing Adam now either. Not away from work, anyway.’
And this is something he really wants to hear about but she won’t be drawn on it. Says, ‘That’s for some other time.’ She doesn’t want to bore him with her problems this evening. And he wants to tell her he won’t be bored but doesn’t know how to do it without giving away just how anxious he is to hear all the details. So he tries to come up with a way of bringing her back to it, but she says she has to go. She wants to thank him for listening. She won’t press him for an answer just yet about the garden project but even if he decides he doesn’t want to do it she’d still really like to stay in touch if that’s OK with him. She’s been thinking ahead to Christmas and feeling sorry for herself. Now that there was no Callum, she’d been assuming she’d cook lunch for his dad at least on Christmas Day, given that he was on his own too, and that had given her something to focus on. But that didn’t seem likely now. And Adam . . . she gives a sad smile which lifts his spirits even further. Something’s not right there. He knew it. Could have told her if he’d thought she’d listen.
She gets up, pats his arm as she says goodbye. No kiss on the cheek this time but she does say that she’ll buy him dinner later in the week if he decides he’s willing to turn the clock back and go along with their original plans for the garden. He says he’ll think about it and watches her leave before going off to the bar to buy himself a packet of crisps to celebrate.
He thinks he’s handled that very well.
Willie, needless to say, doesn’t agree.
Stupid, he says, as soon as she’s gone. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
‘Why stupid?’
You are kidding me, right? You seriously have to ask? For Christ’s sake, wake up, wil
l you? You’re putting everything you’ve done in the last three months at risk. You’ve only just started to get your act together and now, after everything she’s put you through, all she has to do is crook her finger and you come running like some lovesick school kid. Before you know it you’ll be right back at square one.
‘No, I won’t.’
You will too. It’s like watching a train wreck in slow motion, it’s so bloody obvious what’s going to happen.
‘You’re wrong,’ he protests. ‘She’s not like that. You make her sound mean. And anyway, it’s different this time.’
Different how exactly?
‘Because this time she was in the wrong and she knows it. And I didn’t just give in like you’re making out. I was really firm with her.’
Sure you were. Keep telling yourself that. Listen, this special relationship you want with her. Friendship. Whatever you want to call it. Not gonna happen, OK? She’s not interested. What else has she got to do before you get the message? She can’t make it any clearer. It’s how women are, right? They want different things from different people. You’ve always been her friend but for some reason that’s not enough for you. You don’t want to share her.
Owen shakes his head. ‘Not true.’
Is too. First it’s Callum, then it’s this new guy and you know what? If he gets nudged out of the picture there’ll be someone else lurking around the corner and then someone else after him too. There’ll always be someone else cos women need someone like that in their lives. But if you think it’ll ever be you, you’re fooling yourself.
‘I’m not listening.’
Yeah, well, that’d be a first.
‘You don’t know everything.’
I know this much. If you let her buy you dinner, that’s not the start of a slippery slope. That’s you taking a run at it and flinging yourself over the edge head first. You need to think hard about what I’ve said. It’s your only chance.
He’s gone now. Had his say. He thinks that’ll be enough because it always has been till now. But not this time. This time Owen knows better. And he will meet Abi for dinner because that’s what he chooses to do. He’s not the soft touch Willie thinks he is. That everybody thinks he is. He can meet her for dinner and decide for himself how things stand. He’s not an idiot.
And besides, he wants to hear what she has to say. He’s curious.
And it’s only dinner anyway.
Where’s the problem?
19
THURSDAY, 11TH DECEMBER
OWEN
She’s wearing the necklace.
It’s the first thing he sees as she enters Prezzo’s and his first thought is told you so as she walks over towards him. She takes off her coat and drapes it across the back of the chair, tutting and shaking her head as she apologises for being late. Accident on the A27 which meant all the traffic dropped down onto the Fishbourne Road. Queues everywhere.
‘Last thing I needed,’ she says, taking her seat and picking up a menu. ‘Have you been waiting long?’
He tells her no, only ten minutes or so. He’s still looking at the necklace. She realises what he’s doing and smiles sheepishly.
‘You don’t mind, do you?’ she asks. ‘I was looking through my winter jumpers and came across it by chance. I’d forgotten it was there to be honest. Does that sound awful?’
He shakes his head, although he feels instinctively the answer ought to be yes.
‘When I saw the box I couldn’t help having a look and once I did that, of course, I had to try it on. It looks so lovely. And then I thought, why not wear it tonight? Maybe that was a bit insensitive of me. I’d understand if you’d rather I took it off.’
She raises both hands behind her neck as if just waiting for him to give the word. He shakes his head – no, he’d like her to keep it on. Then he remembers he’s meant to be keeping his distance.
‘I thought you’d got rid of it,’ he says. ‘You said you were going to sell it or give it away to a charity shop if I didn’t take it back.’
She purses her lips, looks apologetic.
‘I said a lot of stupid things back then, Owen. I wasn’t in a very good place. And I really did want you to take it back because I felt so bad about how much it must have cost you, so when you kept refusing I just . . . I don’t know. Anyway, I’m glad I didn’t.’
He wonders what she’d say if he asked her to give it back to him now. The thought just pops into his head from nowhere. He’s not trying to be cruel but it does feel as if there’s been something of a shift in the balance of power and it’s tempting to see how far he can push it. In the end, it’s only the knowledge that Willie would like nothing better – has been urging him to do it for ages – that stops him.
‘Have you ordered?’ she asks. He shakes his head, says he thought he’d wait for her. As it happens, he’s not really sure what to choose. Doesn’t know whether Abi will want a starter as well as a main meal and since she’s insisted this is her treat he doesn’t want to presume too much. So he’s decided he’d rather wait and then go for the same as her. And a glass of water.
It’s his first time in Prezzo’s. He’s not been to many Italian restaurants before but he didn’t really feel he could argue since she’s the one paying. He likes this place though. There’s a group of people who look as if they could be students in the far corner, all sitting round three tables that have been pushed together. He’s counted and there are nine of them. Three tables. Nine people. And over to the left there’s a table with two couples and two young children waiting to have their orders taken. Table for six. This is a good place. He feels comfortable here.
A waitress takes their order. She has a strong accent which he finds difficult to understand but Abi helps out. Doesn’t sound Italian. Eastern European more like. She smiles a lot though and brings him not just a frosted glass but a whole carafe of ice-cold water. He likes her too.
As a starter Abi goes for baked mushrooms stuffed with Grana Padano and mozzarella cheese, garlic, onions and breadcrumbs. He has no idea what half of this means but he likes mushrooms and cheese. Whatever Grana Padano is, he’ll eat it. For the main course, she’s chosen something called an arrosto. He doubts very much whether he’s eaten as many as 20 per cent of the items listed here at any stage in his life and the idea of trying to pronounce them or, even worse, having to point to one of them and say that one, is too humiliating for words. So he nods again – same for me, please. Resists the temptation to play safe with a side order of chips. Thinks to himself maybe this is the sort of thing he ought to know about. Time he branched out a little.
While they wait for the starters to arrive she hands her mobile to one of the waitresses and asks her to take a photo of the two of them together. He’s not altogether comfortable with this. Never likes having his photo taken. Always feels when he sees the finished product that he looks misshapen somehow, out of proportion. He thinks he can look quite good in a mirror but somehow the transfer from reality to print never fails to disappoint. He feels he ought to make the effort though. Abi is in such a happy mood and he doesn’t want to do anything to dampen it.
She thanks him for agreeing to pick up where he left off so abruptly with the garden. Tells him she’d still like to go ahead with the most expensive of the plans. When she says this he takes a long sip of water from the frosted glass to hide the smile that’s threatening to break out across his face. That will take something like three months for him to complete and even then there will be scope for him to extend it into other areas if she decides she likes what she’s seen so far. The money’s an obvious plus because it’s been a tough few months but that’s not the reason he’s smiling.
The only possible snag is she can’t say yes for definite just yet. Callum’s fault as usual. The authorities are still examining several of his accounts where there are suspicious transactions so she doesn’t know yet which money she’ll be able to use and which will still be frozen. A lot of it goes straight over his head bu
t if there’s one thing he does understand it’s that everyone else is beginning to understand that Callum wasn’t someone you could trust. Maybe if the police are now saying the same thing she’ll realise what he was like all along.
And the good news just keeps on coming because Abi seems even more upset now with Callum’s dad. It seems he rang last night to say he’s decided to spend Christmas morning with a group of friends from the boxing club instead of her. No apology – just a message on her voicemail. She’s really angry about this, thinks it’s just plain rude. And Owen wonders whether maybe, when she’s calmed down and had a few days to think it through, it will dawn on her that he spent last Christmas morning on his own as well and hasn’t got any plans for this year either. Is there some way he might slip it into the conversation or would it be better to let her find her way there in her own time? Maybe the latter, he tells himself. Better coming from her.
He’s still waiting for some sort of news about the state of her friendship with this Adam person but she seems to keep swerving away from the subject every time they come anywhere near to it. She was the one who raised it after all – and she did say, ‘That’s for some other time’. Well, this is some other time. He doesn’t want to rush things but it’s starting to look as if she’ll never get round to it so in the end he just asks her outright. And her face darkens as she looks down at the table, folding her napkin into squares that get smaller and smaller each time.
‘I’m afraid I . . . misjudged him,’ she says.
‘What d’you mean?’
She shakes her head.
‘I don’t want to spoil this evening.’
‘Has he done something to upset you?’
She unfolds the napkin again and puts it on the table next to her drink.
‘It’s probably my fault. I . . .’ She’s rearranging the cutlery in straight lines, anything to keep her hands busy. ‘I made the mistake of thinking we could be just friends. Like you and me, you know? I mean, he was such a good laugh at work, always joking around, happy-go-lucky. And he really seemed to be interested in me . . . me as a person. I mean, with Callum I’d got used to being some sort of trophy he fetched out of the cupboard and dusted down whenever he needed to impress other people.’