‘Neither did I. They are truly disgusting.’
I look at the shoes some more. It’s almost as though someone has used a hole-punch all over them. ‘I bet you get some funny suntan lines.’
She lets out a conciliatory laugh. ‘Oh God, I hadn’t even thought about that.’
The kettle boils and we sit down on the sofa. I make some space in and amongst the card supplies that are scattered over the table.
‘Are you OK? You seem a little off?’
‘No, I’m fine.’ And I am, but no matter how you answer a question like this, you never sound fine.
‘OK. So, how was your weekend?’
‘I haven’t done a huge amount, but I saw Tilly for brunch this morning, and that was nice. It was good to have a chill weekend after my disastrous second date with Toby.’
‘Oh no! What happened? Why was it so disastrous?’
I can’t quite bring myself to share the chilli episode. It’s a funny story but it requires more energy than I currently have. I shouldn’t have brought it up.
‘Ugh. It was just bad. I felt like we got on really well on the first date, but it wasn’t there on the second.’ Probably because his burning penis was in the way.
‘I’ve told you before, you need to give these things more time. I think it would be worth going on a third date, so you can see what happens.’
‘I’m not going to give him more time.’ I don’t know why she always assumes I’m being impatient.
‘OK, but I think you’re giving up.’
‘I’m not giving up.’
‘Really? Because, Bea, all you’ve been doing recently is giving up.’
Ouch.
‘No, I haven’t.’
‘Yes, you have.’ We haven’t actively moved away from each other, but we’re both sitting a little straighter, and there is more distance between us. ‘When was the last time you were happy?’
Before you got here. Obviously I don’t tell her that.
She asked the question kindly enough, but I almost feel ambushed. ‘I am happy.’
She shuts her eyes and shakes her head. ‘No, you’re not. You’re flailing.’ She’s on a roll now. ‘Take your job. You keep saying that you’re about to move departments, or you’re about to get promoted, but I haven’t seen it.’ I know that Mia doesn’t understand my lack of ambition, but this seems harsh. I never really thought she was paying that much attention to my work updates. Her job has always been more important and impressive and stressful than mine, so I rarely bore her with the trifling issues that come with being someone’s assistant.
‘You are not this person you’re becoming. I was so happy when you said you were going to start dating because I thought it meant that you would actually be doing more than just existing. But no! You’re flailing. You’re giving up. And you aren’t happy. You’ve been stuck in the same job for almost ten years.’ Her tone is condescending, totally unlike her. It stings.
‘I think that’s kind of unfair. Just because I’m not as career-driven as you doesn’t mean I’m flailing. Besides, I have my cards.’
‘Your cards?’
I rear up. ‘Yes, my cards. What’s wrong with my cards?’
‘There’s nothing wrong with them, Bea, but you don’t do anything with them!’
‘But I’m going to.’
‘Really? Are you? Because your track record would suggest otherwise.’
‘Well, what does my track record suggest?’ I immediately regret asking this question.
‘Your track record suggests you’re not going to do anything with them. You stay inside your comfort zone. You hide in your apartment. You never ask for anything. You never fight for anything.’
‘I do.’ Although I say this with absolutely no fight in my voice.
‘You do not.’ Mia goes from sounding angry to exasperated. I don’t know which is worse.
Some seriously heavy silence surrounds us. I know I must look like a deer in the headlights, but I am a deer in the headlights. I didn’t know this was how she saw me. I thought Mia was my friend. I would never say such harsh things to a friend. I don’t know how to react, but my body reacts for me.
I can’t help the tears that are forming, but I can stop her from seeing them.
‘I think you should go.’
‘You want me to leave?’
‘Yes.’ I’m hurt and angry and embarrassed. But I don’t want to say something to Mia that I might later regret, even if at this moment I don’t really like her very much at all.
‘Fine. I’ll go.’ She gathers up her bag and turns to me before she leaves. ‘I love you.’
I think I nod a couple of times, but I don’t say it back. She leaves her tea sitting on the table, untouched.
CHAPTER 13
The few weeks after my ‘exchange’ with Mia were not the best of weeks in Bea Land. I ended up escaping home so much that my mum now knows something is up, and texts me first thing every morning with a chirpy ‘hello’ to make sure I’m OK. Things have been going badly at work, where I was so distracted that I included the wrong selection of customers in an email about pregnancy vitamins. Things have been going badly with my cards, because the stores they’re in have decided to add more card stockists, meaning my orders are going to decrease. My personal life is going badly, because I’ve halted all dating activities since the chilli drama, and things are still really weird between me and Mia. And then on Tuesday morning the boiler broke. On hair-wash day! Just as the temperature was due to be unseasonably cold for April. Just when I had fucked up at work, making it super awkward to ask to work from home. Why does this always happen?
But nevertheless, here I am on Wednesday morning, working from home (thanks to Penny and her cover stories), waiting for Colin the boiler man, as my actual work goes up in flames and my card business peters out.
Turns out Colin is very prompt, but even so I jump when he knocks and slightly spill my coffee on the couch.
I open the door.
Holy shit, Colin is kinda hot.
‘Bea?’
‘Uh huh.’
‘Hi, I’m Colin, come to fix your boiler.’
‘Uh huh.’
‘Can I come in?’
Finally my brain kicks back into gear.
‘Yes, thank you so much for coming. Please do come in.’ Who talks like that? ‘Can I get you something to drink? I have some cookies.’ What? What am I saying? Why am I offering him cookies? I only have some old, crumb-covered custard creams and my favourite chocolate ones that I keep in the freezer.
‘No cookies, thank you, but coffee would be great. Milk, two sugars.’
I am visibly relieved. ‘No problem.’ I walk through to the kitchen-cum-lounge-cum-dining room-cum-laundry area-cum-storage space-cum-office, and point to a door. ‘The boiler is in there.’
He puts down a useful-looking bag and gets closer.
‘Let’s have a look at what’s going on.’
What’s going on is perfect bone structure.
When the kettle finishes boiling I snap, painfully, back to reality. I cannot hit on the boiler man. Even if I knew how to flirt, I cannot hit on the boiler man. But what if this is the person who will show me that life really is better shared with someone else? What if it was fate that made my boiler break and bring me Colin? I shouldn’t ignore fate.
I am totally going to try to hit on the boiler man.
‘So, how’s it looking?’ My game needs work.
‘Fine, but it does need a service and a clean. Looks like there might be some build-up.’
I resist the urge to make a lazy sexual innuendo.
‘Great. Cool. Super. I’ve, uh, left your coffee on the side.’
‘Thanks.’
‘No problem.’ I roll my eyes internally. Maybe a little externally too. I try to walk away, which is hard to do considering my flat is only made up of one room, and decide to give up with both the flirting and the walking away.
‘So how long have you lived h
ere then?’
He is talking to me! This could be easier than I initially thought. Ugh, I hope he doesn’t talk too much, like some taxi drivers and hairdressers. Maybe I should be more careful. He does know where I live. Who knows what else he’s got in that bag.
‘Not too long. About a year. It’s nice though. I like living by myself.’ That’s not being careful, that is being reckless. He could be a serial killer. You shouldn’t tell serial killers that you live alone.
‘Yeah, I have a couple of friends who live right round the corner. There are some nice pubs nearby. The Angel down the road does a lovely Sunday roast. But I have to watch my head on the beams, they’re quite low and I’m quite tall, nearly knocked myself out once.’
I have never seen or heard of the Angel. ‘Oh yeah, I know where you mean. And lucky for me, I don’t think I would have a problem with the beams.’ I gesture weirdly at my head, which I somehow feel will communicate that I’m talking about my height.
‘Ha, you’re probably right. You should go. Although last time I was in there, my friend Rich, who bloody loves to get naked, got naked too early. I think he’s banned from there now, which is a sadness for us all.’
‘Probably not that sad for everyone – like unsuspecting members of the public. Is there an acceptable time to get naked in public?’
‘Ha, no, you’re probably right. But he loves it. Can’t get him to stop.’
The naked conversation makes me feel as though we are flirting with danger. I feel very exposed, metaphorically naked if not literally, so I remain silent and stay standing close, but hopefully not too close, leaning up awkwardly against the kitchen counter.
From what I can tell he fiddles about a bit more, blows on something, and then declares that the boiler should be fixed but I will need to bleed the radiators.
It’s at times like this that I feel like a pathetic, ignorant girl. I know that bleeding radiators is something that people do, but I do not possess the knowledge of how to do this.
And I think he can tell by the look on my face that I’m panicking.
‘Do you want me to show you how to bleed your radiators?’
My relief is obvious. ‘Yes please, that would be great. I know it’s something that I should know how to do, but, well, I don’t.’
‘No problem. I’ll show you a couple of times, and then you can do the rest, but don’t worry, I’ll supervise.’ His smile is dazzling. ‘We’re going to need some paper towels or an old tea towel.’ It’s the sexiest thing anyone has said to me in months.
Turns out bleeding radiators is really easy. And I think Colin, the boiler guy with lovely bone structure, might be flirting with me, but I can’t be sure.
We have now bled all the radiators and I’ve lost all confidence.
‘Thanks so much, I really appreciate it. And double thanks for showing me how to bleed my radiators. I feel like I’m finally becoming an adult.’ Once again I do a weird hand gesture, like a half-punch. Did I just fist-bump the air?
He smiles, and I am dazzled again.
I have no idea how to do this. Me, who found a really long chin hair whilst inspecting my face this morning. Resigned, I head towards the door.
‘Let me show you out.’
CHAPTER 14
It’s Thursday and Mia’s birthday drinks have arrived. I go because I know I need to. If I don’t go, I would be further along the path of waving buh-bye to my friendship with her, and I’m not ready to let that ship sail, but my shitty week has made me feel far from sociable.
As soon as I pull open the heavy door I already regret being here. I’ve totally misjudged the vibe and I’m wearing all the wrong things. Plus it’s so dark and so busy that I don’t know how I’ll find my friends.
Thankfully, from the slightly raised step I can make out the top of Peter’s head.
As usual, he’s holding court. Talking to people has always been one of Peter’s skills; the fact he’s a little different makes him approachable to people from every walk of life. A bunch of Mark’s trendy friends surround him, along with a handful of Games Night frequenters, and somehow he doesn’t look out of place in his suit.
As I’m nearing, a girl’s hand appears on Peter’s upper arm. He immediately opens out to let her in, taking her under his wing, the same way he normally does with me. But then, in a change of events, she kisses him – briefly, but it still happens.
It’s the girl from the speed dating bar.
I decide too late to change direction. Oddly’s seen me and waves me over.
‘I was wondering when you would show up.’ He takes me under his other arm. I feel extremely weird.
‘Bea, this is Alice. Alice, this is Bea.’
I give her an awkward wave as both of my arms are being held down by Peter, and she makes the cheers motion at me with her drink. It puts me even closer to the edge.
‘We were discussing the finer points of Mark’s stag do. Controversially, I hear the boys weren’t the ones to order strippers but it was in fact the girls who saw some action. Do you deny these vicious rumours?’
He’s talking to me. ‘Sorry, guys, but what happens on the hen do stays on the hen do.’ I say this with far more energy and amusement in my eyes than I feel.
‘Mia has a canvas with an imprint of the guy’s butt plastered on it!’
‘Again, no comment.’ That was one of my better ideas.
Luckily the conversation leads away from our escapades and returns to a competition over who has been witness to the worst treatment of a stag. I’m glad I’m a girl. The worst you get at a hen do is stifling amounts of organization.
Despite not talking or contributing in any meaningful way, I need a break.
At the bar, I am totally overwhelmed by the choice of cocktails. The list is too long, and it’s too dark to read it comfortably. I don’t want to spend fifteen pounds on a cocktail I might not like. White wine it is.
Just as soon as a barman sees me waiting and deigns to take my order …
I’m on tiptoes leaning as far as I dare over the bar, and still nothing. The person next to me has started speaking loudly. I turn to him, my face a picture of dislike.
‘I said, it’s busy tonight, huh?’
A man is talking to me. I make my face look friendlier.
‘It is.’
‘Who are you here with then?’
Is he flirting with me?
I hope not, because I am not in the mood. ‘Oh, those guys over there.’ I point in what I think is vaguely the right direction. ‘It’s a friend’s birthday. It seems like a cool place for drinks, if I ever actually get to try one.’ I roll my eyes and point towards the barman. I don’t want to be rude, but I also don’t want to be overly friendly. It’s too loud to talk and I don’t want to miss my opportunity to order a drink. Plus, he’s standing on my bad side.
Luckily he takes the hint and moves on to someone else.
I’m about thirty seconds away from leaving and going back to my warm apartment when Peter sidles up beside me.
‘Looks like you could use a taller escort to help.’
He makes a signal with his hand and, as if by magic, the barman comes over to take our order. Peter orders for a bunch of people before asking, ‘What are you having? It’s my round.’
I swallow and my eyes widen. I hope I’m not expected to pay for a whole round of drinks. From the look of things, a whole round of drinks would destroy a month’s expendable income. Maybe more.
‘Don’t worry – I offered to get these, but nobody else has signed up to doing rounds. You’re safe with me.’
‘I was going to get a white wine.’
‘Hogwash. You’re having an Elderflower Fizz. You’ll love it, and you can give me a sip so I can taste how delicious and refreshing it is before going back to my terribly manly craft beer.’
‘Who says “hogwash”? Is that word still included in the dictionary?’
He ignores me. ‘So, tell me, what’s up between you and Mia?’
/>
Trust Peter to notice something isn’t right. And to have no subtlety when asking about it.
‘Nothing, it’s fine.’ He looks at me. ‘OK, it’s not exactly fine. We had a weird thing and we just need some space.’
He nods. ‘I’ll accept this as an answer because I can see that you don’t want to share specifics, but the next Games Night is only a month away, so if it’s not sorted by then, let me know and I can interfere if it looks like you guys might get pitched against each other.’
‘We’ll be fine by then.’ It would be awful if we had to share custody of Games Night.
‘Anyway, I haven’t asked for a while – how is the card business going? I loved the food series you did.’
I’m touched he liked the food series – it was a particular favourite of mine because of all the egg jokes – but I’m also kinda surprised that he would know any details about my cards. ‘You saw the food series?’
He looks at me. ‘Of course. I’m your biggest fan. I always check to see what you’re doing, mainly so I can use the jokes as my own.’
When I first started the business a couple of years ago, I considered keeping the whole venture secret so I could save face when I stopped doing it, either by choice or because of a lack of funds, and it still isn’t natural for me to talk about it, especially in public. Especially now when I know how Mia feels. So I keep quite vague about many of the details. I don’t want to outright lie to Peter as that does feel wrong, but I also don’t want him to see me as flailing.
‘I think it’s going OK. It’s actually probably going better than it deserves. I haven’t put as much effort into it as I could, but I want to come up with a plan to make it bigger. The stores I’m stocked in always sell out and they always want more, but I’m not quite in the position to give them more. It’s a bit of a catch-22. To give them more I need to make more money, but to make more money I need to give them more.’ I realize I’m waffling now, and I shift from foot to foot, uncomfortably aware that what I’m saying isn’t clearly thought through.
I can also feel the increasingly angry stares burning into us as other people wait for our order to be completed, waiting less and less patiently for their turn. The sighs and tongue clicks have gained momentum over the last two minutes.
Just Friends Page 7