Chapter Twenty-Three
10.40 p.m.
I let myself into the Granary Building, hop into the lift and hit the button for the third floor. Still thinking about Jack Crown, if I’m being honest, and about the fun I had this evening and how entirely unexpected the last five minutes in his car had been. Then it occurs to me, I think I’ve had my phone on silent ever since I was back in the police interview room with Jean, so I switch it back on again and realise it must have been ringing all night.
Mother of Divine, eighteen missed calls. Eighteen. Millions of messages and texts all from either Sarah, Mags and Jeff, all in varying degrees of panic and wanting to know three things. Am I OK, is Jean OK, and what happened this afternoon? Each of them stresses that I’m to call the very second I get their message, which means I’ll probably be on phone till approx sometime after 4.00 a.m. tomorrow morning.
I let myself into the flat, all resolved to have a lightning quick shower first, then to hit the phone and give everyone the latest bulletin. But when I come in, I discover the lights are already on in my hallway.
Which is odd. I most definitely didn’t leave them on when I went to work at sparrow fart this morning.
I open the living room door and there’s Simon, just waiting for me. Looking sheepish. Like he’s got something to say.
‘Angie,’ he says, standing up as soon I come in. ‘I’m so sorry about this, but I had to come and see you. I had to talk to you.’
And I think it’s the one and only time he’s ever even used the key I had cut specially for him.
10.50 p.m.
He follows me into my tiny galley kitchen as I automatically go to make coffees for us. I fill him in about today and he instantly looks relieved; the guy’s shoulders visibly unstiffen when I tell him that Jean has finally made a police statement and that her safety is now as good as assured.
‘That’s certainly good to hear,’ he says, gratefully taking the mug I offer him and following me into the sitting room. We both plonk down, him on the sofa, but for some reason, I’m careful to take the armchair opposite, not our normal seats at all. Usually we’d be side by side cuddled up, but not now.
Steel myself, gird my loins.
Who’ll go first, though, that’s what I want to know.
And in the end, it’s him.
‘Thing is, Angie,’ he eventually begins, a bit hesitatingly, ‘I came to say that I’m sorry.’
‘You’re sorry? What for?’ I ask, suddenly wrong-footed. This wasn’t the conversation I expected, not by a long shot!
‘For acting like such an arse these past few days. Ever since … well, you know the answer to that one. The whole thing’s just knocked me for six, Jean being back, I mean, and …’
‘Simon,’ I gently interrupt, ‘you don’t need to say another word. I completely understand. For God’s sake, you wouldn’t be human if the whole thing didn’t take its toll on you. And for that reason …’
I find myself breaking off here, even though I’m absolutely rock-solid certain of what I’m about to come out with next. Just never, in a million years, thought I’d be the one to say it, that’s all.
‘The thing is,’ I tell him, willing myself on. ‘I think it’s best if you and I take a bit of a break.’
OK, so it may have sounded a bit blurted out, but at least I’ve said it. At least it’s out there.
‘A break?’ he repeats, looking at me intently and blinking. A lot.
‘No, in fact, that’s not what I mean. What I’m trying to say is that … Simon, you’re terrific. You’re one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met and you and I were doing brilliantly as pals. But we crossed a line we shouldn’t have ever gone near. Don’t you see?’
I try to get a read on his face, but somehow I can’t. Then suddenly, I find myself thinking back to all the stuff about him that I made excuse after excuse for, but which actually drove me completely mental. Because there was so much here that deep down I knew I was only ever tolerating. How he’d never stay over here like a normal boyfriend, the infuriating way he’d just drift off into space on me, how he point-blank refused to leave Jean’s house, so that I instinctively knew he was happiest living with her memory.
A sudden sense not only of lightness, but of v. deep relief floods over me, now that it’s all out in the open. Because I’m doing the right thing. I’m certain. After all, all I was effectively ever doing with him was wallpapering over cracks and, sure, what’s the point in that?
I smile warmly over at him.
‘You understand, Simon, don’t you? It’s just I value you too much as a friend to let this drag on any longer. So can we start again please? And just go back to the way we used to be? Friends?’
He says nothing, just looks over at me fondly for what seems an age. Then in one quick movement, he gets up, pulls me to my feet and hugs me tightly.
‘More than just friends, Angie,’ he says into my hair. ‘Best friends. You’re my best friend and I’ll never let go of my best friend.’
Then I pull back a bit, so I can face him properly.
‘But there’s something I need you to do first.’
‘Anything. Name it.’
‘I need you to make peace with Jean.’
He can’t meet my eye now, but I press on anyway.
‘That’s why she’s still here,’ I tell him firmly, ‘and that’s all she asks. Simon, you have to listen to me. Because if you don’t, you’ll regret it for years to come.’
‘You think?’ he asks softly.
‘I know. Look, I know where she’s staying and I’ve got her new phone number. Just go and see her, that’s all I’m asking. It’s the right thing, you know it is.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
Saturday, The Chocolate Bar, 5.45 p.m.
Place is absolutely thronged. Lovely, lovely sight. Doubt I’ll ever tire of it. Sarah and I have barely come up for air all day and still there’s absolutely no sign of customers even beginning to thin out.
I’m dead on my feet at this stage and I know even the indefatigable Sarah must be feeling it too. Not helped by fact that we all had a sort of, ahem, reunion with Jean last night, at her hotel. The whole gang of us; myself, Sarah, Mags and Jeff.
Which actually turned out to be an amazing, magical night. Just like old times. I’d thought it might be a tad awkward, I think I was afraid that accusations and counter-accusation might follow, but there was absolutely nothing. Just a gang of old pals, reconnecting. Thrilled to somehow find each other again, after all this time and in spite of everything that had happened. Even the perennially diehard Sarah, who’d been saying all along that half of her wanted to hug Jean while the other half wanted to throttle her, only had to take one look at the girl, remind herself of what she’d suffered through, and it was like the past completely melted away.
One drink at Jean’s hotel somehow turned into three drinks, then some eejit (and I’m sheepishly ashamed to admit it may have been me) suggested going on to the Odessa Club, a v. late night haunt, ‘just for a nightcap’. Subsequently, I distinctly remember being poured into a cab at stupid o’clock by Mags, with me groaning that I’d to be up for work, first thing in the morning. ’Course, Mags just roared laughing at me as she slammed the taxi door shut and said, ‘HA! Serves you right, Ange! So now you know exactly how it feels to be a stay-at-home mom who functions on four hours’ sleep a week, if she’s lucky! Welcome to my world, baby!’
Now I love Mags dearly, but she can have a v. cruel streak sometimes.
Brilliant, brilliant night, though. At least the bits I remember of it. Jean, as usual, was the ringleader, the nucleus that the rest of us somehow always seem to revolve around. And it was just so wonderful to see her almost back to her old self. Would really gladden your heart. At various stages throughout the night, we were all at her to change her mind about going back to Cape Town, and once or twice I even thought we might just have persuaded her, but then she’d just deflect the subject and get back to talkin
g about one of us instead.
Knew without her saying anything, though, that it’s all down to Simon. You certainly don’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to figure that one out. And on the subject of Simon, by the way, it seemed that by the end of the evening, the whole bar were aware that he and I had parted amicably. Total strangers kept coming up to me in the loo and saying things like, ‘Hey, I heard you and your ex had the first recorded case of an actual civilised break-up, congratulations!’
You’d have to laugh. And the very fact that I want to laugh, I figure, has to be a v. good sign.
Only fly in the ointment was that Simon himself never showed. We each called him numerous times during the night to try and drag him out, but no, absolutely nothing doing.
‘Jesus, that fella will die of stubbornness!’ Mags groaned after about our fourth phone call to him.
‘Just give him time,’ Jeff wisely counselled. ‘Guy’s still in shock.’
‘But there isn’t time, that’s the problem!’ I hissed. ‘Jean’s saying she’s heading back to Cape Town on Sunday. That’s only two days away and he still hasn’t made peace with her yet! And I’m worried. Really worried. This just doesn’t feel right to me.’
‘Why? Jean seems to be doing really well now, isn’t she? And after all, Simon’s a big boy. He’ll do what he wants, when he wants.’
‘Because … well, I suppose I just like a Hollywood ending, that’s all. And this is most definitely not a Hollywood ending!’
Silence, then Sarah who’d been thoughtfully focused on the stem of a wine glass all this time, suddenly piped up.
‘So what about a Hollywood ending for you then?’ she came straight out with, nearly nudging me off my bar stool. ‘With that lovely guy Jack Crown, I mean? Have you finally copped on to yourself yet? Are you going to call him and say you changed your mind about going on a movie date with him after all?’
This, by the way, had been a major subtext of all gossipy chat tonight, both to my face and behind my back. Jeez, it was actually hilarious; to think that someone like me, who had absolutely no love life to speak of for so long, now suddenly had all of this going on? One guy barely out the door, and this lot already trying to shove me into arms of someone new? I mean, when did I suddenly turn into some kind of a temptress?
‘Because for God’s sake, Angie!’ Sarah went on, way too loudly for my liking, and not giving a shite that we were practically entertaining the whole bar by then. ‘Jack Crown is an absolute dote! And you’ve millions in common with him and … Oh, look, if you don’t pick up the phone to him and tell him you’ve changed your mind about going out with him, then I’ve a good mind to do it for you. Because clearly you need me to make all romantic decisions on your behalf!’
‘Remember what a complete bitch you were to him when you first met?’ Jeff laughed.
‘Eh … yeah, thanks for reminding me.’
‘You distinctly said he had all the personality of a vacuum cleaner.’
‘Don’t suppose we could change the subject?’
‘Just goes to show you. Phrases about judging books by their covers spring to mind. You had Jack down as this emotionless automaton and how wrong were you? Sounds like he couldn’t have been sweeter to you, or to Jean these past few days.’
‘You said he’s mad into movies …’ Mags chipped in.
‘… And you love movies …’
‘… Plus he’s obviously single …’
‘… And as of about twenty-four hours ago, so are you …’
‘Have to say, I’d love it if you went out with an actual proper detective sergeant,’ Sarah said. ‘Always very handy to know a copper. Just think, none of us would ever have to worry about penalty points or parking tickets again.’
‘You lot are unbelievable!’ I hissed at the lot of them, beetroot red in the face by then, I was sure. ‘Jeez, me and Simon only just called it quits; will you let me catch my breath here for a bit? I’m … you know, in a transitional period. I’m grieving the end of a relationship here!’
‘No you’re not, you’re out on the piss.’
‘You haven’t stopped giggling and messing ever since you and Simon called it a day.’
‘It’s like a big load’s been lifted from you.’
Surprisingly it was Jean, who’d been quiet up until then, who stuck up for me.
‘Hey, you lot, just back off a bit and stop pressurising her,’ she told the others firmly. ‘Give the girl a break, would you?’
‘Thanks, love,’ I remember slurring a bit drunkenly over at her.
‘S’all right,’ she shrugged. ‘But you just trust me, hon. If Jack’s the right one, he’ll wait for you. You’re worth it. If two people are really meant to be together, there’s nothing on earth that can keep them apart.’
Silence at the table, then suddenly was aware of everyone focusing on Jean now. I was pretty certain I knew what they were all thinking too. But who’d be the one to come out with it? Did a quick audit and decided that I was just about drunk enough to.
‘The ins and outs of my romantic dilemmas are all very well and good, my dear,’ I said to her, turning to face her full on, so she couldn’t avoid my gaze or change the subject. ‘But … what about the right one for you? Are you seriously telling me you’re going back to Cape Town and leaving someone behind, someone who I think you still really care about? Where’s your happy ending, that’s what I want to know.’
And the mood completely shifted at the table. Suddenly it was deadly quiet, all eyes on Jean. But she calmly knocked back the dregs of the G and T in front of her and evenly eyeballed everyone right back.
‘Well, not everyone gets what they want, do they? Besides, after what I’ve done, I don’t really deserve a Hollywood ending. After all, plenty of people live their whole lives and never get one, so why would someone like me? Beside, just being here, with all of you lot is just so … Well, let’s just say I may not exactly get a happy ending, but I certainly have been given a Hollywood beginning!’
Saturday evening,The Chocolate Bar, 6.40 p.m
… and I’m in the middle of serving four customers at once, all v. complex orders involving many, many chocca-mocca whips (house speciality, incredibly popular), low-fat lattes and what seems like a mountain of individually wrapped handmade chocolates to go. Meanwhile Madge from the shoe shop across the road has come in after work, wanting hot chocolate with whipped cream and a good bitch about her on again/off again non-boyfriend. And is seriously demanding my attention, even though I’m run off my feet and just can’t give her all the time she wants. At least not yet.
‘You’re not listening to me, Angie!’ she whinges from where she’s perched up at the counter.
‘Yeah … just a bit busy here, hon, be right with you!’
‘I really need your undivided attention!’
‘And you’ll get it just as soon as I serve everyone else, I promise!’
Next thing, Sarah comes back from carrying an order over to a table and sidles up beside me.
‘I think you’ve got a visitor.’
I look sharply up and around me, but for the life of me, can’t see anyone I know. Way too packed in here for starters.
‘Just come in, back of the queue, eleven o’clock … Over there!’ she hisses.
I glance down the snaking queue, past a line of women with buggies, and giggling teenagers laden down with shopping bags … and that’s when I spot him.
It’s Jack. Off duty, in v. casual pair of chinos and a light blue sweater. Which actually looks lovely on him, I suddenly think out of left field. A great colour on anyone blue-eyed and fair-haired.
The queue’s so long and snaking, though, that it’ll take him ages to get to me. Which is good, which is great. Gives me time to figure out exactly how I feel about this.
‘So?’ says Sarah, who’s standing right up beside me now, hands on her hips, like she means business.
‘So what?’ I ask, then bury my face over at the cappuccino machine in the ho
pes she’ll go away.
‘Well, Jack’s obviously come to see you! Because why else would he be here?’
‘I dunno, but here’s a wild guess. Maybe because he happens to want a coffee?’
‘Don’t pretend to be stupid!’
‘Look, when he gets to the top of the queue, you serve him, will you?’ I ask her. Not even sure why. Just suddenly I don’t know what to think.
‘Over my dead body!’ she says crisply. ‘In fact, not only will you serve him, you’ll flash him your brightest smile and remember at all times that straight, single men in this town are a bloody rarity.’
‘Straight single man, did you say?’ Madge pipes up from her barstool. ‘Where, where?’
‘You see?’ says Sarah, triumphantly. ‘In her own sweet way, even Madge agrees with me.’
‘Can you please stop broadcasting this to half the shop?’ I mutter at her, burying my head in the cappuccino machine and busying myself with about three different orders at once.
‘I’ll do far worst than that if you don’t cop onto yourself! Now you just listen to me, missy. You’re going to tell him you’re delighted he dropped in because your circumstances have changed since you last saw him and that now you’d be delighted to do a movie night.’
‘A movie night with who?’ Madge wants to know. ‘What are you pair whispering about?’
‘With this lovely guy, who, by the way, has a terrific job and who’s right at the back of the queue,’ Sarah hisses back to her.
Shit, now Madge is swivelling round to have a good gawp at him.
‘The blondie-haired guy at the back? But he’s absolutely lovely!’ she says. ‘Good, solid chunky build; me like! If you don’t want him can you introduce him to me?’
‘Jesus! Back off the pair of you! And will you please keep your voices down!’
‘You’re being deliberately obtuse now,’ Sarah says, in her best schoolmarm manner. ‘Perfectly good guys like that don’t grow on trees, you know.’
‘So he’s interested in Angie then?’ Madge says, yet again a tad too loudly for my liking.
Me and You Page 33