Heart

by Nicola Hudson

  “Whenever. And, Neve? Be careful.” I waved my hand in response, unsure of what to say.

  Once I had my shoes on, I sat nervously on the edge of my bed, my mind about as calm as a tempest-swept sea. I picked my phone up, wrote an apologetic text to Garrett but didn’t immediately hit send. I knew what Ruby had said, but Garrett was my only real friend; without him, I would be back to being Billy No-Mates again. Although there was no spark between us, I hadn’t felt unsafe around Garrett. I was hoping that, once I’d lain to rest his hopes of a relationship, I could still salvage a friendship from this. Who else did I have?

  A short blast of a car horn disturbed my mental meanderings. Looking out the window, I saw a Jaguar parked outside the door to my block and Garrett signalling to be let up. I went to the intercom and buzzed him up, wondering what was going on with the different car.

  Garrett rounded the corner to my room, looking devastatingly handsome in a charcoal-grey suit, silver tie and white shirt. His hair had been tamed even more than usual and his skin had that freshly-shaven glow. Yes, he looked fantastic. Yes, many girls would have been molten puddles just looking at him. No, I didn’t feel like that. Much.

  “Hey, beautiful,” he said, leaning in to kiss my cheek. God, he did smell divine, though. “I’m glad you’re ready on time. I hate it when girls take too long to get ready. You look stunning in that dress. It was made for you.” He took my hand and made me twirl under his arm.

  “I’m glad you approve,” I said, without thinking. Was I? Did his approval matter to me? He took my arm and led me away from the room. Away from Ruby and her concern.

  “What happened to your car? Is this your weekend one?” I joked as we made our way outside.

  “No, it’s Grandmother’s. I didn’t want to drive so she had Sam pick us up.”

  “Sam?”

  “Her driver.” Her driver? In what world do people have drivers? Not mine, that’s for sure. Probably the same world where people paid four hundred pounds for a dress.

  “Oh,” was all I could muster as Sam opened the door and I sat in the cream-leather embrace of the Jaguar’s backseat. Garrett used the other door, shuffling along to sit close to me.

  “Relax, we’ll be there in about ninety minutes.”

  “What?” Yes, my voice did rise by at least an octave. “Where are we going?”

  “We’re having dinner with Grandmother. We’ll be in central London by seven-thirty,” he calmly replied, before putting one hand on my bare knee. I picked it up and moved it onto his own knee.

  “You didn’t think to tell me that was the plan? And why are we spending our first date with Grandmother?”

  “It was supposed to be a surprise, honey. I thought you would like to experience something special. And Grandmother is a delight; you’ll enjoy her company, trust me.”

  “Trust you? You’ve hijacked me! Nobody knows where I’m going. Take me back! Now!”

  “See what I mean, Sam? She’s a real firecracker, isn’t she?” Sam looked at us through the rear view mirror and smiled. “You are perfectly safe, Neve. Sam used to be in the SAS and will do whatever it takes to protect you and your virtue this evening. Do you hear that, Sam? You are not allowed to let me take advantage of this beautiful young woman. Okay?”

  “Yes, Mister Adams, whatever you say, Sir.” I swear he was laughing, but I honestly felt safer than I would have done in Garrett’s car so opted to count my blessings but angle myself slightly away from him. He chuckled and allowed me the space.

  By the time we were in London, my bad mood was tinged with childish excitement at the sights as we drove over the Thames, past Big Ben and Buckingham Palace. Sam pulled the car under an illuminated canopy and parked. He was at my door before I could even read the sign outside my window: The Ritz. The Ritz!

  Sam opened the door and I found Garrett’s hand held out for me. I took it and allowed myself that moment as I stood outside. You know the one I mean: the one where Cinderella finds herself at the ball and has to pinch herself. That was me, stood outside the bloody Ritz!

  “Thank you, Sam. I’ll let you know when we’ve finished dessert.”

  “Of course, Sir. Have a lovely evening, Miss,” he added with a wink. Garrett took my arm and escorted me up the marble steps and through the entrance flanked by doormen. He clearly knew where he was going as he walked purposefully across the marble floor. I didn’t want to look like a complete fool, but my head was here, there and everywhere, taking in the huge crystal chandeliers and ornate mirrors which hung everywhere. Opulent. That was the word: opulent. And nothing like the world I was used to inhabiting.

  “Table for Adams,” Garrett said to the man who mysteriously appeared as we made our way through an archway into what was obviously the restaurant.

  “Of course, Sir, follow me, please. Your grandmother is already here.” We followed him over to the corner. There, sat in a cloud of purple, was a glamorous older woman, sipping a drink.

  When we reached the table, Garrett leant in to kiss his grandmother on the cheek whilst the tuxedo-clad waiter held out a chair for me to sit on.

  “Hello, darling, I’m glad you made it on time. I would have been forced to order another martini!” Her grin suggested she wished we had been late. “And this must be the beautiful Neve. My grandson was right: you are as pretty as a picture, darling!”

  “Umm, thank you, Mrs Adams,” was about as much as I could muster.

  “Oh, let’s not stand on ceremony. Call me Ester. What do you think of the venue for our little getting-to-know-each-other dinner?”

  “It’s lovely. I’ve never been here before. I’ve heard of it, though,” I admitted.

  “Now, come on, darling, there’s no need to be polite. It’s dreadfully trashy, but Garrett loves these old English haunts. It’s his American blood showing and I have to pander to it, don’t I, darling?” Garrett squirmed a little at the honesty of her appraisal and I had a moment of enjoying his discomfort.

  Ester was fabulous company, filled with humorous stories about wealthy socialites. It was clear that her life was as exciting and eccentric as Garrett has told me. I was so amused by her anecdotes that I barely registered what I had eaten. The more she drank, the less discreet she was and her dislike for Garrett’s mum was very, very evident. Every time she became too personal, Garrett would steer the conversation back to safer territory, usually about the family newspaper business. It appeared that Ester was hoping he would stay in England and take over the business at some point in the future; Garrett was non-committal. Did he see his future here? Did that make a difference to me?

  My brain was a little fuzzy from the two glasses of wine I had drunk with the meal and, when Garrett texted Sam to let him know to pick us up, I stood and asked to be excused. Ester flicked her hand in the direction behind her and muttered something about the ‘powder room’ before picking up her recently-filled martini glass.

  After going to the loo, I stood and stared at myself in the gilt-framed mirror. Who was I? And what was I doing? It wasn’t like I’d had a deprived upbringing or anything, but I was way out of my depth. It was The Ritz, for God’s sake!

  But, other than Ester’s interesting company, I wasn’t really enjoying it. The uber-politeness of the waiting staff was nauseating and who really needs that many forks? In some way, it gave me clarity about Garrett: this was his life, but it wasn’t one I wanted. I took a deep breath and prepared myself to let him down gently in the car on the way back to Brighton. Even if it meant sacrificing our friendship, I knew what I wanted to do. What I needed to do. With a renewed sense of purpose, I made my way back to the table.

  “Shame about that bloody birthmark, though, darling. She’d almost pass as a thoroughbred without it.” Ester was obviously unaware of my return but the look of embarrassment on Garrett’s face must have alerted her to my presence. I knew I had to maintain a sense of composure as her words made me want to cry or hit her, and hitting an old-aged pensioner just wasn’t my thing. “Oh
, you’re back, Neve. Cinderella’s pumpkin has arrived, so this is the end of our delightful evening.” She stood and leaned in to give me a kiss on the cheek. “It was wonderful meeting you. I hope you will grace us with your company again soon,” she trilled, her mouth still close to my face. I could see the thickness of her foundation and her uneven eyeliner. She wasn’t glamorous at all: she was just an old woman desperately trying to maintain a sense of who she used to be.

  My hand in Garrett’s as we walked out to the car, I realised I had yet again been seduced: this time by irreverence and glamour. Would I ever learn?

  I woke to find my head in Garrett’s lap, his hand gently playing with my hair. Jumping to an upright position, I knocked my head into his chin.

  “Sorry. Umm, where are we?” The combination of alcohol and sleep had me disorientated.

  “You fell asleep before we were out of London,” Garrett explained, rubbing the point of contact. “I hope it was tiredness, and not boredom?”

  “Of course. It’s been a long day and a tiring evening,” I admitted.

  “We’ll be back home in a few minutes, so sleepyhead will soon be in bed,” he replied, with a smile, before reaching across and taking my hand in his. When he gave me another of his knuckle-kisses, part of me worried he thought he would be joining me.

  Sam parked the car in front of the door to my accommodation. When he left the engine running, I let out a sigh of relief that Garrett was clearly not intending to stay.

  “I’ll be back shortly, Sam,” he said, taking my hand and walking me through the door. With each step we were closer to my room, my dread became a heavier burden. I had intended to let Garrett down in the car, not here. Turning onto my corridor, I knew I had to speak up.

  “Thank you for this evening. I had a lovely time. But—”

  “Sshh, don’t say a word,” he interrupted. “You’re tired and Grandmother can be a bit overwhelming. Leave it for now.” His words suggested he knew what I had been about to say. He took my key and opened my door. “Here you are, Cinderella.” He lowered his head and gave me the briefest of chaste kisses. “Goodnight, Neve,” he said, raising my hand to his lips and kissing my fingertips. “See you tomorrow.” And he was gone, along with the opportunity to make my feelings known.

  I had a fitful night’s sleep after my evening at The Ritz. I had barely been able to stay awake long enough to take off the dress, let alone my makeup, but sleep had been an unhelpful friend. Images of Jake and Ester had stopped my brain from resting and so I woke up looking and feeling like crap. Great.

  By mid-afternoon, I was still in my pyjamas and trying to struggle through the reading for one of my seminars. However, the rural troubles of Thomas Hardy were not enough to occupy my brain and it kept returning to Garrett and, more specifically, how I was going to tell him that I wasn’t interested in being more than his friend. How would he take it? Ruby’s story had done nothing to make me think this was going to be an easy conversation, but procrastination was only going to make it worse.

  I indulged in a bar of chocolate and rehearsed the conversation in my head before picking up my phone.

  Of course he answered on the first ring.

  “Hey, Neve!”

  Of course he sounded pleased I had rung.

  “Hi. I just wanted to say thanks for last night,” I started, knowing it would be too rude to go straight into the real reason for my call.

  “That’s okay. I wasn’t sure if it was too weird, taking you to meet Grandmother so soon, you know. But I spent so much of Friday talking about you, it seemed like a good idea when she suggested it.”

  “I didn’t realise it was her idea.” Did that make it any better?

  “Yes, I think she wanted to check you out. You know, see whether you were good enough for her only grandson!”

  “And did she?” I thought back to her comment about me almost being a thoroughbred and felt my temper rise.

  “Oh, yes, she’s already spoken to me today. She invited us back to London for Thanksgiving.”

  “Thanksgiving? But she’s English.”

  “I know. She just wants to stop me feeling homesick. Are you up for it?” Oh, God, he obviously was unaware of what was going through my mind.

  “Thanksgiving? When is it?” I bought myself some time to decide whether to just tell the truth then and there.

  “It’s the last week in November. Thanksgiving is the Thursday and then we usually go shopping on Friday. I thought we could stay over,” he added. Shit.

  “Umm, I’m not sure… Mum’s birthday is that week so I may have to go home.” It was a good thing he couldn’t see the tell-tale burning of my face as I told the lie.

  “Oh,” he said, disappointment dripping from the simple sound. “Well, check the dates and we can see if we can make it work.” There was an awkward pause. “Do you fancy going for a drink this evening?” I wasn’t enough of a bitch to reject him a second time so found myself agreeing to be picked up at seven. Shit, shit and double-shit.

  Just before seven found me stood outside my housing block, waiting for Garrett to arrive. Opting for something more casual than the night before, I wore a leather jacket over a long-sleeved, lace top and skinny jeans. I had straightened my hair and tried to style it like Emma did in the hairdressers, aiming for the more mature confidence I had felt that afternoon.

  As soon as Garrett pulled in front of me, I opened the passenger door and got in. Yes, I was trying to take some control. Yes, I knew it was a token attempt at best. When I turned to buckle my seatbelt, he took my face in his hands and kissed me. It was nice, pleasant: you know, all of those words that told me it wasn’t Jake.

  When I felt his tongue try to part my lips, I pulled back.

  “So, where are we going?”

  “I thought we’d grab a cocktail at Bar Biarritz. Have you been there?” He started the engine and pulled into the road.

  “No. Is it in town?”

  “Yes, by the seafront. It’s a bit more upmarket than the student bar and I thought we’d be able to talk.” Uh oh.

  The rest of the journey was silent, other than for the pounding beat of a rapper I didn’t recognise. What I did know was how offensive some of the lyrics were. Did he think I would be impressed by that? Again, I couldn’t make sense of these different pieces which made up the Garrett jigsaw. Sometimes he was so refined and so thoughtful; at other times, I found him almost repulsive. One thing was certain: I hadn’t appreciated the open simplicity of Jake.

  Garrett parked in a street which ran down to the seafront and was almost run over in his desperation to open my door before I got my seatbelt undone.

  “You look very sexy tonight,” he said, pulling me straight from the car into his arms. “A little bit naughty, even.”

  Another kiss.

  Another lukewarm reaction. Garrett took my hand, apparently unaware of my lack of response, and led me down toward the sea.

  I could hear the bar before I saw it. It had full-length windows, open onto the seafront despite the autumnal chill, which let the low bass of the music and the chatter of the crowd spill onto the street. I couldn’t believe somewhere would be so busy on a Sunday night. And he thought we were going to be able to talk? Maybe it could work to my advantage.

  Garrett opened the door but led us in, the throng of people parting as if they could smell his money and confidence. When we reached the back of the room, a couple stood up and left their sofa empty. With a sinking heart, I sat in its intimate embrace, its large, curved back offering more privacy than I had wanted. Oblivious to my unease, Garrett handed me the cocktail menu moments before the server appeared.

  “A Cosmopolitan, please,” I said, avoiding all drinks with innuendo-laden names. “Why don’t you have a drink, as well? I can get a cab back later.”

  “Thanks for offering, but that’s not my intention. I’ll just stick to a light beer. And some olives, please,” he added before angling himself away from the server, transaction completed. I
wondered what his intention was but didn’t dare to ask, in case I didn’t like the reply.

  We sat and made small talk, mainly about his grandparents’ lives. As before, he was more than happy to be the focus of conversation, rarely asking the questions which might have encouraged more from me. When he ordered me a second drink without asking, I knew I had to do something.

  “Actually, could we go? Maybe for a walk?” Seeing my suggestion as a request for something more private, he quickly settled the bill and led us out of the bar. Thankful I’d opted for ballet flats, I suggested we go for a walk along the beachfront.

  As we made our way past the small cafes and bars built into the arches facing the sea, Garrett kept an arm around my shoulders, forcing me to stay close to him. A group of lads made their noisy approach in our direction, no doubt en route to one of the nearby pubs. As they passed us, there was some inevitable jostling as we all struggled to stay on the narrow boardwalk.

  “Sorry, darling,” one of them said as he accidentally knocked into me.

  “No problem,” I laughed, part of me admiring his Welsh accent.

  “It is a fucking problem,” Garrett said with much more force than was needed. “Show some respect.” Several of the group turned and I noticed a number of them were very well-built. Rugby players, maybe?

  “I said I was sorry. There’s no need to get wound up, mate,” the Welsh lad added.

  “I’m not your fucking mate. Now say it like you mean it.” Really?

  “What?” A couple of his friends edged closer to Garrett, and I grew worried.

  “Hold on,” one of them said. “Let’s not fall out. We all just want a good time. He’s sorry. We’re all sorry.” He looked at his friends before glaring at Garrett. “But if you don’t fucking walk away now, you’ll be the one who’s sorry. What’s it gonna be?” His tone made it clear it wasn’t an empty threat.

  “Come on, Garrett. Let’s go.” I pulled him in the opposite direction, worried he wasn’t going to back down, despite being outnumbered. I led us into a quiet alcove built into the sea wall. “Calm down, they’re not worth it.” I took both his hands in mine and looked him in the eye. “They were just having a laugh. Don’t let them ruin the evening.”