by Tracy Bloom
“I hope you haven’t built me up or anything,” said Matthew, starting to feel nervous.
“Not at all. I just told them that your bar charts inspire the same awe in finance directors as art lovers experiencing a Van Gogh for the first time and your little jokes about hedge fund tax will have them rolling in the aisles.”
“Thanks, I really appreciate that,” replied Matthew gloomily.
“Anytime my friend. Anytime. Still up for a few cheeky beers later?” Ian asked. “I need to drown my sorrows seeing as I’ve been denied coming to the match with you tomorrow.”
“Absolutely. You have no idea how much I need it too,” replied Matthew.
Ian was talking nineteen to the dozen but Matthew had switched off momentarily. The beer had done its job and painted the world a sunnier colour. He smiled a little smile, feeling relaxed and almost carefree, a feeling that had become a stranger of late. He had called Alison when he got to his hotel room. The conversation had been short and terse. He had promised that he would drive back straight after the match tomorrow which rather put a dampener on the free booze he could have been drinking.
“Are you listening mate? Christ you were miles away. I was just saying that Chris is leaving and you should go for his job. Get yourself back up here.”
“Sorry, I was listening really. Yeah maybe. Not sure Alison could cope with a move at the moment though. Besides it might feel a bit weird coming back to where I grew up. I was invited to a school reunion tonight as it happens but I thought it would feel a bit strange. Full of all the tossers I never talked to anyway, telling everyone how well they are doing.”
“School reunion? Did you say school re-union? You mean to tell me we’ve been out all this time with me trying to drag a smile onto your pathetic down-trodden face when I could have been pouncing on the easy prey of thirty-something women who have been married just long enough to realise that it’s not all it’s cracked up to be?” Ian leant back in his chair, put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. “I can see it now. There’ll be hundreds of them gagging for it. All hoping for a snog from their childhood crush who will transport them from their domestic hell to the fairy tale life they were promised by Enid Blyton. Of course they will be gutted because dream boy will have grown an enormous gut by now clearing the way for a poor, recently divorced, charming young man like me to console the desperate young ladies.”
He opened his eyes again and looked at Matthew with a serious expression on his face. “Hopefully of course they will have piled on the pounds too, and be a bit depressed about it making them very grateful for some male attention.”
Ian sprang up from his chair.
“So what are we waiting for?” he asked Matthew, starting to put on his coat.
“You didn’t even go to the school,” protested Matthew.
“Aw bollocks to that. I’ll pretend I joined in the fourth year. No one ever remembers the late comers. Come on, let’s go.”
“No really, I don’t want to go.”
“Why? It’ll be a laugh, and you get to dance to Spandau Ballet with some old girlfriends. Or is that the problem? Did you go out with some right mingers you’re too embarrassed to let me meet? I bet that’s it isn’t it?”
“Actually I only went out with one girl at school. That’s the problem really; we didn’t exactly finish on good terms,” said Matthew, surprised to find his cheeks starting to feel hot.
“Oh come on, how long has it been? Nearly twenty years? She’ll be married, fat, stretchmarks up to her ears, flashing photos of her little darlings to all and sundry. She won’t give a damn about some long forgotten school fling.”
Ian dropped to his knees and clutched at Matthew’s arm.
“Don’t deny me this chance of a shag mate, I might never forgive you,” he pleaded.
Matthew had to laugh at Ian’s sheer optimism. He wasn’t exactly god’s gift although he did seem to have the gift of the gab. Sod it, he thought. Who knows when he would next get the chance for a night out. And Ian was right. If Katy was there it had all happened so long ago that she would either have forgotten about him or at the very least forgiven him for how it ended. Not that he had ever really forgiven himself. His stomach still lurched when he thought about it, which was surprisingly often as he was frequently reminded of Katy for some reason. Silly things like catching a glimpse of Mickey Mouse on the TV. Katy had a slightly irrational hatred of Mickey Mouse. “Smug bastard who should learn to speak properly,” she had often shared with anyone who was or wasn’t interested in her opinion of the diminutive superstar.
“OK then, we’ll go. But if it’s crap we leave. And don’t show me up,” he said finally, getting up.
“Fantastic. Move closer, move your body real close until iiiiiiiiiiiiit feels like we’re really making love…….woh…woh…..woh.” Ian sang the eighties, classic smooch song whilst pretending to be in a clinch, groping some poor desperate imaginary woman.
“I really think I am going to regret this,” Matthew muttered under his breath.
Chapter 4
The school was less than a twenty-minute cab ride away. The erratic driving of the taxi driver was making Matthew feel slightly woozy. He hadn’t had this much to drink in a while since Alison had insisted they both cut down to virtually nothing to increase their chances of conceiving.
Ian had sung Matthew his entire repertoire of favourite eighties songs during the journey along with a run-down of what he associated with each one. A re-occurring theme appeared to be which girl he was having sex with at the time and what kind of sex.
“So Caroline was my Wake me up before you go go girl because she was the dullest bird in bed you have ever known. Now as for the amazing Stephanie. If I tell you our song was Summer of 69 by Bryan Adams I bet you can’t guess what her speciality was?”
“I think we can all guess and it’s an image I’d rather not have thank you,” replied Matthew.
“Oh happy days my friend, happy days,” said Ian with a contented smile on his face.
Fortunately they pulled up at the school gates at that point putting an end to the magical musical tour of Ian’s sex life.
Matthew could just about make out the school sign standing just as it had nearly twenty years before by the iron railings. Now he was here he felt weird. He saw himself as he had been then, sauntering through the gates, Adidas bag high on his shoulder, narrow end of his tie poking out of the top of his shirt, thick end stuffed way out of sight, one half of his shirt already dangling out over the top of his trousers and hair worn fashionably long. His arm was of course, draped over Katy’s shoulders. He had looked, he thought with a pang, kind of cool. It certainly didn’t seem possible that the teenager with the cocky swagger could have turned into this man wearing the middle-aged, standard-issue uniform of blue checked shirt and turned up chinos.
“Right, let the dog see the rabbit,” hailed Ian as he barged his unwieldy boozy body against the school hall door, making the “Welcome Back to Dove Valley School” banner flap wildly in his wake.
Matthew had to smile at the sight that greeted them: it was genuinely as if they had gone back in time. Norwegian pop-group A-ha blared out from the disco at the far end of the hall and multi-coloured lights spun wildly out of control. The dance floor was of course a girls only domain at this point in the evening with the blokes clustered around the bar glancing nervously at the women, who looked dangerously as though they might drag the nearest man onto the dancefloor at any minute. The only things visibly different were the clothes. The scene was awash with little black dresses, sheer tights, perfectly-manicured nails and beautifully-styled hair fresh from the hairdressers. No shoulder pads, no neon, no mesh, no chains, no lace, no leather ties and no silk shirts. But by the looks on most peoples’ faces, the sophisticated veneer did not hide a multitude of teenage insecurities that had come back to haunt the partygoers in their old stomping ground.
“Oh my god, is it really you? You look amazing,” Matthew suddenly
heard Ian exclaim. “Even more gorgeous than you did at school. It’s Ian by the way if you’re too shy to say you can’t remember my name. Ian Robinson. I only arrived in the fourth year. We did maths together remember? Lusted after you a bit actually from the back of the class. We had that really boring teacher, what was their thier name?”
“Mr. Hopkins,” the bewildered, rather chubby woman wearing an exceptionally low cut dress muttered to the complete bullshitter who seemed to be Ian this evening.
“That’s him. He bored the pants off me. Still, something must have gone in or else I wouldn’t be the high flying financial consultant that I am today. So are you going to let me buy you a drink as a thank you for your smile brightening up my maths lessons or what? Don’t tell me, a Bacardi and coke isn’t it? With those exotic Latino looks you have to be a rum drinker. Follow me young lady.”
Ian winked at Matthew and disappeared into the throng around the bar, the chubby woman following him looking surprised but quite pleased.
Left alone Matthew started to take in the faces hovering around him. Some he recognised immediately, others he had no clue. He realised he hadn’t kept in touch with anyone from school which was probably because he and Katy had been virtually glued together during their last couple of years, so he hadn’t spent a lot of time with anyone else.
“My oh my, surprised you’ve got the cheek to show your face.” said a voice from somewhere on his left.
Matthew turned to see the vaguely familiar grimace of Jules Kettering. She had been Katy’s best friend at school and treated him with utter contempt given that in her view Matthew had completely taken over her best friend. He had always had a suspicion that she might be a lesbian and secretly wanted Katy for herself.
“Jules, how are you? Full of smiles as usual I see,” said Matthew.
“The sight of you is enough to put a dampener on anyone.”
“Oh how the years just slip away when you meet old friends,” he smiled sweetly.
“You and I were never friends and certainly not after what you did to Katy,” challenged Jules.
“Oh come on, that was years ago,” said a dismayed Matthew.
“It was still shit. I’m surprised she wanted to come tonight given the possibility of seeing you again.”
“You mean she’s here?” gasped Matthew. He felt his heart do something strange. Sort of contract a bit and then make a play for escape out of his throat.
“Of course. She’s not going to let a pig like you ruin the memories of her school years,” spat out Jules.
“Charming. So where is she?” he said, looking around wildly.
He couldn’t believe that he was about to see her. After all these years. They hadn’t spoken since the night she had surprised him at college, a memory that still made him shudder. He’d called of course, for over two weeks, but she refused to speak to him. Then he had received all the compilation tapes he had ever made her in the post, stamped on, crushed and mangled. Katy had loved those tapes. They had listened to them over and over in her bedroom and in various lay-bys in the back of his dad’s car whilst having a grope. As the plastic shards and the twisted shiny brown ribbon scattered all over the floor, he caught sight of a slightly faded label with his messy handwriting saying Now that’s what I call Katy and Matthew’s Music in blue biro. He knew then that there was no going back. He had given her that tape the night before they had both left to start college. Him off to London and her off to Manchester. They had sat in her bedroom listening to it, her in tears most of the time and him trying to fight them off. Then The Jam had come on and they had jumped up and down to Going Underground for the entire track, laughing hysterically. At the end they’d had an “only in the movies” moment where they collapsed on the bed breathing heavily and stared into each other’s eyes. He remembered telling her he loved her and that three years would soon be over and then the world was their oyster. They had carried on talking way into the night, plotting and planning their future. He could still remember how she had breathlessly told him she could already picture the dream home they would buy when they had both graduated and found good jobs back in Leeds. She had in mind a barn conversion with thick oak beams that towered above an enormous double-height lounge, a kitchen with an Aga that a tribe of dogs could fall asleep next to and enough bedrooms so all their mates could come and stay, even after they had kids. He remembered at the time he had been surprised that talk of children hadn’t freaked him out, especially when Katy informed him they would have two, a boy named Jacob and a girl called Eloise. But it all seemed so wonderfully inevitable then that there was no cause for panic.
They had managed to see each other every other weekend, taking it in turns to make the train journey. But Matthew’s head started to turn. His new mates were organising things for the weekends when he was with Katy and he felt like he was missing out. Also Freshers Week had started with a bang, quite literally for many of the guys living on his floor in the halls of residence. Released from the confines of parents breathing down their necks it seemed that sex was pretty much on tap whether it be other female students or the micro-mini clad locals who still thought that shagging a student was cool. Of course when they staggered into the kitchen the morning after the night before they were full of elaborate stories of their conquests, trying to outdo one another on who had gone the furthest.
Matthew, being the only one with a girlfriend, was forced to sit quietly on the periphery as the banter swirled around his head. This wasn’t helped by the fact that he and Katy had not had sex that often, maybe three or four times, and it hadn’t been the earth moving experience either of them had expected. In fact it had been downright awkward and embarrassing. He had no idea what he was doing wrong but it wasn’t right. Katy was more likely to moan in pain than ecstasy. They had not talked about it, merely avoided the subject, both of them embarrassed by their lack of experience. He knew deep down that probably all they needed was practice but he was getting increasingly frustrated, especially when all his new friends appeared to be having the time of their lives.
Then the end of the first term arrived and Matthew was due to return to Leeds the following day for the Christmas holidays. There was a fancy dress disco in the college bar and he and one of the other guys had decided to go as a reindeer. Actually there was only a pantomime horse left at the fancy dress shop, so they had added a pair of Christmas antlers and a red nose to complete the look. He drew the short straw and ended up dressed as the back end, which he didn’t mind as long as he was well supplied with alcohol.
After a considerable amount of vodka, the makeshift reindeer’s back end went. All of a sudden the legs appeared not to want to stay up right any longer and collapsed dragging the front end down with it. The next thing he knew he was being dragged up by the Virgin Mary, otherwise known as Emma, who lived on the floor below him. Her costume had been met with much hilarity as she was certainly no virgin, making the most of her release from an all girl’s catholic school and enjoying as fully as possible the company of as many men as she could.
“Matty, come on get up,” he heard Emma say through what felt like a thick fog that had enveloped him.
The next thing he knew Emma and another bloke from his floor were dropping him onto his bed.
“I’ll just watch him to make sure he doesn’t puke before he falls asleep,” she said.
She started off stroking his head then somehow manoeuvred him, still in his costume, so his head rested in her bosom. The next thing he knew she was kissing him and stuffing her hand down the front of his horse’s legs.
The drink had stripped away his inhibitions and all thoughts of Katy vanished. He rolled Emma over onto her back on the bed, pulled his fuzzy fetlocks down, just far enough to allow him to fumble out a fairly incapable penis. He aimed up into the hidden depths of the blue sheet Emma had used for her costume, complete with thigh high split up the side.
And so it came to pass that Christmas, that the sight that greeted Katy as she pushed o
pen the door of Matthew’s room having decided to pay him a surprise visit, was the back end of a pantomime horse desperately pumping away at The Virgin Mary.
The look on Katy’s face from that fateful day was still imprinted on Matthew’s mind, so much so that he half expected her still to be wearing it as he waited nervously next to Jules for her to appear. Eventually she emerged through the doors by the stage looking as far removed as possible from the broken teenager he remembered fleeing his room all those years ago. She had a strut only achieved through success and maturity. Her designer shirt was clearly more Chelsea than Chelsea Girl and the faded denim jeans had been replaced by razor-sharp pinstripe trousers ending in killer bright red heels. She looked totally together, which was somewhat at odds with the sound of Like a Virgin blaring out.
She negotiated herself across the dance floor, head held high, smiling and waving to the bopping ex-classmates. She did not see him until she had almost reached the spot where she had left Jules.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” said Jules.
She looked up. Their eyes met and locked.
How could something you haven’t seen in such a long time look so familiar? He looked at every inch of her face, trying to find something that would make her a stranger but there was nothing. She was still Katy, his Katy, standing there in the school hall as if time had stood still.
“Hi, it’s really good to see you,” he finally managed to say.
“Ha, I bet you didn’t say that the last time you saw her did you? Too busy relieving Mary of her virginity,” chipped in Jules.
“Thank you Jules, that’s enough,” Katy finally spoke up.
He smiled gratefully at her but noticed that she looked grim.
“You never gave me a chance, you never let me explain, you wouldn’t talk to me, I tried calling you for weeks,” he found himself blurting out. He couldn’t believe what he was saying. He sounded like a pathetic teenager. What was he doing? There was no need to make excuses now for something that had happened so long ago surely.