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One in a Million

Page 29

by Lindsey Kelk


  ‘Coke’ll help. Food poisoning is like a hangover,’ she said. ‘You have to replace the sugar.’

  ‘What if you’ve caught something dreadful from Martin,’ I suggested, a lurid look of joy on my face as she blanched again. ‘What if it’s literally eating its way through your insides right now?’

  ‘Oh, hello, Sam,’ Miranda said loudly over my shoulder. ‘What can we do for you today?’

  No. Nope. No way. I pushed out my bottom lip and shook my head at my friend.

  ‘I was hoping to speak to Annie,’ he replied, somewhere behind me.

  ‘Brilliant, we’ve just finished our pitch, she’s all yours,’ she said, clapping me on the shoulder. ‘I have to go and make sure something isn’t eating my insides away.’

  Some people had short memories and no loyalty.

  I turned around to see Sam standing outside the Coffee Shop, cup of tea in one hand and a huge hardback book in the other.

  ‘Trying to hide from me?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, too weary to lie. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘What, why?’ He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with the back of his wrist and I looked for a speedy way out of the situation that didn’t involve throwing myself under a passing bus.

  ‘I’ve been really busy,’ I told him, clinging to my tote bag. I didn’t want to use my very pricey laptop as a weapon but if needs must … ‘Spent all weekend working. On the pitch. Still busy, to be honest. I should get back up to the office.’

  ‘I thought you’d want to know officially, Elaine has said she’ll give me another chance,’ he called as I started to walk away. ‘There’s no way she would have considered it if you hadn’t helped me so much.’

  ‘Yay,’ I replied weakly. ‘I’m so happy for you.’ I started walking away. I couldn’t face going up to the office and dealing with Miranda, so I headed down the corridor towards the back of the building.

  ‘I’m still a little confused as to what happened at Aggy’s party last week,’ Sam said, trailing after me. I was trapped. There was nowhere to go but out into the tiny smoker’s courtyard at the end of the alley, behind The Ginnel. He caught the door when I didn’t hold it open for him and followed me outside. It was a terrible hole of a place, it stank of bins and, because it was always in the shade, it always felt damp and cold and miserable. It was absolutely the right place for me to be at that exact second.

  ‘Don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I said, hoping he would realize I didn’t want to talk to him before I really did have to batter him to death with a MacBook Pro. They were so expensive these days and I’d have to sell one of Brian’s kidneys to replace it.

  Even in the dim, half-light of the courtyard, it hurt to look at him.

  ‘I thought about what you said, about Aggy’s party, and I decided the best thing to do was to clear the air with Elaine before I went. Head the awkward confrontation off at the pass, as it were,’ Sam explained, tucking his book under his armpit. ‘I convinced her to meet me and … I suppose she decided she wanted to try again.’

  ‘That’s nice,’ I said, wondering if it wouldn’t be easier to just drive my own head through the brick wall than listen to the rest of this story.

  ‘She was very impressed with my new look.’ He reluctantly set his mug on the ledge covered in the least amount of visible bird shit. ‘I even told her about the salsa class. And I’ve agreed to work harder at being more present. If everything keeps going well, I’ll be moving back in next week.’

  He, looked upwards as he spoke the last line, as though he was remembering something very specific.

  ‘And what did she agree to work on?’ I asked, crossing my arms over myself. ‘Given the fact she was cheating on you even though she tried to make you feel like the break-up was your fault and you’d spent the best part of a month attempting to completely change your entire self for her?’

  Sam looked perplexed, as though the thought had never crossed his mind.

  ‘What exactly did Elaine put on the table?’ I pressed.

  ‘Well, she explained about that,’ he replied. ‘I pushed her into it by not being around. Emotionally unavailable, is what she said. She didn’t want to cheat.’

  ‘Right, brilliant,’ I shook my head, amazed. Between us, Elaine and I had really done a number on the poor boy. ‘You take all the blame, offer to completely change your life and she agrees to do nothing other than let you move back into your own home. That sounds fair.’

  ‘Why are you angry with me?’ Sam said, placing his book next to his mug. It was a biography of William Wilberforce. A name I hadn’t heard since GCSE History and, had I never gotten involved with Sam, might happily never have heard again. ‘And why is the front of your skirt yellow?’

  ‘Don’t look at my skirt!’ I ordered, my last nerve fraying into nothing. ‘Why do you even want to get back together with her, Sam? I don’t understand what was so great about this relationship that you of all people are literally prepared to give up every single shred of dignity just to have this woman back in your life.’

  ‘Because I liked my life before,’ he replied, the closest he’d ever come to raising his voice to me. ‘I liked knowing how every day was going to be. I liked my work, I liked my home, I liked my cat. I didn’t need day-trips to the seaside or fancy haircuts. I just want things to go back exactly how they were before. You wouldn’t understand, trapped in your little bubble. I know it can’t possibly have occurred to you that I was happy before you came along and tried to fix me, but I was.’

  I felt as though he’d slapped me in the face.

  ‘I wasn’t trying to fix you, I was trying to help you,’ I argued. ‘And how am I the one trapped in a bubble? You’re literally locked in a tiny room with a load of old books and a cheating girlfriend.’

  ‘I preferred my cage to yours,’ Sam shook his head sadly. ‘I knew the limitations of my universe and I liked them. You can’t even see the bars on your cage and you put them there yourself.’

  My breath was coming hard and fast and a million words were rushing around inside my head, fighting to get out my mouth first. I kicked a stray stone across the yard, unsettling something that was rootling around the bins.

  ‘I’m very sorry I caused you so many problems,’ I said, my fists clenched so tightly I could feel my fingernails digging into the palms of my hands. ‘And I’m happy you’ve got your shitty life back. Hurrah, you can go home. Hurrah, you don’t have to stay at your brother’s or sleep on the floor any more. I’ll bring your cat back tomorrow and you can take him home to your perfect flat and your perfect life and everything will go back to normal for you, as if nothing ever changed. But you’re wrong about my life; my life was great until you came along and confused everything.’

  Sam’s eyebrows drew together, the hurt look on his face melting into something else.

  ‘What does that mean?’ he lowered his voice to all but a whisper. ‘How have I confused things for you?’

  I bit my bottom lip and glanced around, wondering if the rats or the pigeons might have a ready answer.

  ‘Forget it,’ I said, walking towards the door. ‘I’ve got to get back inside.’

  But Sam stepped in front of the door, blocking my way.

  ‘Annie, what’re you talking about?’ he pleaded. ‘I never thought I’d have to beg you to talk to me.’

  He slipped his hands into his pockets and looked away as I fought the tears that began to blur in my eyes. Perfect. Now he could write me off as an overly emotional female and go on with his day.

  ‘Things have been very complicated in general,’ I mumbled in a thick, unsteady voice. ‘What with you and with work and Mir and the bet with Charlie and everything—’

  ‘Ah. So this is about you and Charlie, is it?’ Sam said, poking around at the assorted debris on the concrete flagstone floor with one foot. ‘That makes sense.’

  ‘Now I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ I said, genuinely confused.

  �
��It’s nothing to do with me,’ he said, taking off his glasses and rubbing them on the hem of his T-shirt. ‘And obviously I have no right to pry into your personal life, but I am a little surprised you chose to keep your relationship with him a secret from me. You’ve been very happy to talk about literally everything else, in the truest sense of the word.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I said, getting very, very close to my limit.

  ‘Annie, I know everything about you,’ he replied, almost smiling. ‘From your place of birth and middle name to your preferred brand of sanitary protection and your feelings on every contestant to have ever appeared on something called Love Island.’

  ‘It’s not physically possible to watch it and not get involved,’ I pouted. ‘But what are you talking about, me and Charlie? There is no me and Charlie.’

  ‘Annie, I have seen you together, you know, in the pub across the road. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Not to mention this utterly inane bet. It might surprise you to know this, but I’m actually quite bright. He might as well be pulling your pigtails in the playground.’ There was the unreadable expression in his eyes again. He took a step towards me and I took a step back, the stench of the bins overpowering his Samness. ‘Tell me what’s got you so upset.’

  ‘I’m not upset,’ I said, wiping away one stray tear. ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Annie,’ he said softly, taking a step towards me. I took another step back and trod in something soft and squishy that didn’t stand to be looked at. Don’t be a rat, don’t be a rat, don’t be a rat. ‘When I was upset, you told me I’d feel better if I talked about it.’

  That was it, the final straw. Everything began to build up inside me, all at once and all I could see was red. Every late night, every early morning, all the almosts and the nearlys. The bank loan, the bet, the non-kiss, Matthew’s engagement, clearing up after bloody Wellington and, on top of everything else, realizing I was in love, completely and utterly and undeniably in love with a man I had spent the best part of a month training to become the perfect boyfriend for someone else, only to discover he’d been perfect for me from the beginning.

  ‘Fine, I’m fucking upset,’ I exclaimed with a primal wail that sent the pigeons scattering in every direction. Sam stayed where he was, stalwart and true and very slightly frightened. ‘I’m upset, I’m angry and I’m tired. I’m tired of everything being so difficult. I’m tired of having to work harder, of having to prove myself and never being allowed to make a mistake. I’m tired of other people getting the things I want and I’m tired of convincing myself I didn’t want those things in the first place.’

  ‘Then don’t,’ he replied, moving closer. This time there was nowhere for me to go unless I was prepared to dive into the wheelie bins. ‘Tell me what you want.’ I couldn’t look up at him, couldn’t meet his eyes.

  ‘I can’t,’ I said, smiling at the absurdity of it all even as the tears began to fall. ‘Because it would only make me feel more stupid and I already feel quite stupid enough.’

  ‘Annie,’ Sam murmured.

  I held my breath as he said my name. Was this it? Was this our moment?

  ‘You’re not stupid, you’re wonderful.’

  Oh, oh, oh, oh. So what if Karine got her magical moment in front of millions of people at Wembley Stadium? I was more than happy to settle for out the back, behind the bins.

  ‘And you’re far too good for Charlie Wilder.’

  I breathed out all at once in a heavy, angry sigh.

  ‘I can’t decide if you’re being deliberately dense or you’re truly this stupid,’ I pushed him out of the way and knocking his book onto the filthy floor as I passed. Childish but satisfying. ‘I’m glad you and Elaine are trying again, I’m glad all our hard work paid off. Good luck with it all, I think you’re going to need it.’

  If he said anything after that, I didn’t wait to hear it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Tuesday 31 July – Three Days to Go

  After talking to Sam, I walked directly out of The Ginnel, down the street and did not stop until I got all the way home. On Tuesday, I did the unthinkable. I called in sick.

  It was an odd situation, playing hooky from your own company. In theory, I had no one to answer to but myself, but it didn’t stop the guilt. Curled up on my uncomfortable loveseat, having hacked off the one remaining leg, I was too weighed down by all the feels to move. Wellington and I were halfway through Loose Women when a knock at the door reminded me I hadn’t even bothered to get dressed.

  My heart began to flutter as I tiptoed over to the peephole, trying to make it across the floor without stepping on any of the creaky floorboards. I hadn’t ordered anything, I wasn’t expecting anyone, but what if it was him?

  ‘Open the bloody door,’ Miranda bellowed. ‘I can hear you, I know you’re home.’

  It was not him.

  ‘This might be a good time to remind you I’ve got a key,’ she called. ‘And I will use it if I have to. I’m not having that cat eating your face if anything really has happened to you.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I muttered, opening the door and letting her and her hair into the flat. ‘You didn’t have to come over.’

  ‘I know I didn’t have to come over but still, here I am,’ she said, waltzing through to the living room as Wellington made a dash for his preferred hiding place, under my armchair. ‘Are you dying?’

  ‘I had a migraine,’ I said, rubbing my temple in what I hoped was a convincing fashion. ‘I feel a bit better now. How about you?’

  She nodded, poking at the pile of books on the floor with the toe of her boot. My phone was underneath a cushion where I couldn’t see it. When it was in my hand, I couldn’t help myself. The previous night had been a never-ending merry-go-round of Sam’s Facebook page, Elaine’s Instagram, Matthew’s YouTube channel, Gordon Ossington’s website. For the first time in my life, the internet had completely turned against me. The only safe place was in the pages of my books. It was so good of Charlotte Brontë not to interrupt every fifth page with a Facebook notification. St John likes your profile pic. Mr Rochester has poked you. Bertha is now broadcasting live from the attic.

  ‘I’m fine now, never eating another one of my mother’s culinary experiments.’ Mir walked over to open a window. ‘Annie, you do know your flat stinks of cat piss, don’t you?’

  ‘I do,’ I confirmed, pulling a blanket round my shoulders. An outward expression of my inward despair. ‘He’s working through some separation anxiety.’

  ‘Because you’re holding him hostage?’ she asked.

  Two green eyes peered out from underneath the armchair, fully aware we were talking about him.

  ‘To give him back, I’d have to speak to Sam and I really don’t feel like doing that,’ I replied, tightening my ponytail with an aggressive tug. ‘Did we hear from SetPics?’

  ‘We did not,’ she replied. ‘Don’t think about it. A watched pot never boils and all that jazz.’

  ‘Hmm,’ I rubbed my dry, sore eyes with tightly balled fists. ‘Do you think I should email Harry?’

  Mir shook her head, stopped in front of the broken loveseat and settled down on the armchair instead. Wellington sniffed the back of her boots with great suspicion.

  ‘I really don’t think it’ll make any difference,’ she said, picking a cold Pot Noodle up from the table and giving it a cursory sniff. Nope, definitely past its best. ‘If I had to guess, I’d say they invited us to pitch to make up the numbers. They were probably curious. I don’t think they ever had any intention of giving us the job.’

  ‘But they haven’t said no yet,’ I reminded her, snatching my breakfast/lunch/dinner out of her hand as she gagged. ‘It could still happen.’

  ‘Annie the optimist.’ My best friend said with a smile as I draped my blanket over my head. ‘I hope you’re right. Now throw that nasty shit away before you get food poisoning as well.’

  ‘As long as they don’t give it to Gordon, I’ll surviv
e,’ I replied, settling into my rut on the loveseat. I’d been sat there so long, I’d created quite the nice little dent for myself. ‘If Oz gets the account, I might have to burn the building to the ground.’

  ‘It’s nice to see you’ve got a handle on your competitive nature,’ Miranda clucked. ‘How’s that meditation app working out for you?’

  ‘Deleted it,’ I said, turning off the TV. ‘Thanks for coming over.’

  She pulled the long strap of her handbag over her head and dropped it on the floor and kicked off her boots. She was here to stay.

  ‘What else was I going to do? Stomp around the office while you sulk in your pit of despair? Lame.’ She automatically pulled out her phone and rested it on the arm of the chair. We were who we were. ‘You’ve never, ever called in sick as long as I’ve known you. What happened yesterday?’

  I was not going to cry. I was not going to cry. I was not going to cry.

  ‘Nothing,’ I said with a squeak.

  ‘You talked to Sam then?’

  I nodded, pressing my lips tightly together.

  ‘And did you tell him how you feel?’

  I shook my head, squeezing my eyes closed.

  ‘Do you think that might be a good idea?’ she asked. ‘In that anything other than what’s going on right now would be a good idea?’

  I was not going to cry. I was not going to cry. I was not going to cry.

  ‘He’s back together with Elaine,’ I wailed, hot tears pouring down my cheeks. ‘So what’s the point? I can’t even be upset about it, Mir. I have been actively trying to get them back together and now it’s the only thing I have successfully achieved in the last month. We’re not going to win SetPics, we can’t win the bet, we won’t be able to pay Brian, the business is going to go under and I’m stupid in love with a man I can’t have. I have fully shafted myself on this one.’

  ‘You’re in love with him?’ She climbed out of the chair and crawled across the floor to bundle me up in a hug, my face pressed against her chest. ‘I thought you just fancied the arse off him? Why didn’t you tell me?’

 

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