‘Is it working?’ I asked.
‘Nah.’ He scoffed. ‘The idea is laughable.’
My anger was replaced by great blobs of pity. I picked at his story as we ate. Not because I didn’t believe him, but because I hoped to unravel threads, to work out exactly why he was being so generous. For the most part, he didn’t want to elaborate. In the end it was simple: what began as a drunken night ended with a young guy scrambling to do what he thought was the right thing and getting himself caught along the way. It was a scenario as old as the hills.
‘I’ve already told her to make herself scarce tonight. She’s going out with her friends, so please don’t feel worried about coming along. It’s just us from work and a handful of friends.’
I tossed my napkin aside. Breakfast had well and truly defeated me; only a sloppy pile of beans and a few mangled tomatoes were left to show for my effort. I sunk back in my chair and rubbed at my tummy.
‘This is my food baby.’ A laugh burbled up. ‘I will call it Black Pudding.’
William laughed. ‘At least I’m actually responsible for that one.’
We fell about laughing like a couple of naughty school kids, which was a lovely way to end what should have been a solemn discussion. When we finally calmed down, we grabbed coffee to go and made our way to work.
‘I’m so glad you laughed at that.’
William grabbed at my belly. ‘I fucked up, Em, but I haven’t lost my sense of humour.’
* * *
With a quick wiggle, my shoes flew off in different directions. Probably the second best feeling ever, coming in closely behind unhooking a bra at the end of a long day. I flopped down on the couch and revelled in the silence. Well, except for the occasional car horn and barking dog outside. After a full morning at the clinic, during which William avoided any or all further questioning, I was home alone. I let that sink in for a blissful moment and felt my thoughts unravel.
The shower, and first dibs at the hot water, was mine. I washed, rinsed, conditioned, loofah-ed, plucked and preened, and stepped out of the bathroom feeling like I’d been at a day spa for a week. After a few reruns of Hollyoaks and a glass of wine, I made a start on dinner.
The idea of going out tonight had grown on me over the course of the day. Our office hadn’t had a group outing since I’d first arrived, and there’d been mutterings we’d been overdue for one. Above all that, it would be the first time I would see the house I’d sent so much mail to in the past. First, though, I wanted to have dinner with my friends.
Heather arrived with a bunch of flowers and box of chocolate for me. After the week I’d had, she figured I needed cheering up. When I stopped blubbering, Josh walked through the front door and offered me a hug and a kiss and a few words of his own brand of wisdom. Craig walked in just as I was dishing up dinner.
‘Hey, good timing.’ He grinned. ‘Can I do anything to help?’
I moved just as he leant in for a kiss, and managed a brushed cheek. ‘Oh,’ I said, surprised. ‘You can pour drinks? Please? Thank you.’
‘Sure.’ He did a double-take. ‘You okay, Em?’
I nodded, biting down on my lip. Hard.
‘You sure?’
‘Dinner is almost ready,’ I said.
I wanted to take his good mood on face value and run with it. He loosened his tie, dropped his jacket over the back of his chair and looked like he was relaxing into the night.
‘Alright.’ Heather shuffled around in her pyjamas. ‘Tell me about your days.’
‘You first.’ I handed her a plate.
‘Closed two big sales today and had an open house near Regent’s Park this afternoon. Yay. Got a week off soon. Double yay.’ She wriggled about in her seat, cross-legged like usual. Josh kissed her on the temple and mumbled his praise.
With the last meal served, I took my place at the table. ‘I’m thrilled things have picked up for you, that’s got to be a relief.’
‘You and me both.’ She smiled at Craig as he handed her a glass. ‘Josh, your day?’
‘I spent today playing with fancy watches and trying to write copy for them. Went for lunch in Soho. Made a date with another client for during the week. I’d say it was a good day.’
‘Craig?’ I asked.
‘Uh, lunch on Southbank, meetings in the morning, paperwork all afternoon. Might’ve fallen asleep at my desk. Lunch was good.’
‘Em?’ Heather looked at me.
‘I was invited to a get together tonight. I thought I might pop in for a while.’ I glanced at Craig. ‘Do you want to come with me?’
‘Emmy.’ It felt like his mood declined with each slow shake of the head. ‘I’ve been at work all day.’
‘It’s just that it’s been so long since we’ve spent time together,’ I said quietly. ‘I just thought…’
‘You thought…’ His voice drifted off. ‘Jesus, Emmy. You want to spend time together? You’re the one who swans about on the weekend with everyone but me. Yes, I work late during the week, but I try and get home for dinner on the weekend, only to wonder where the bloody hell you are. You tumble in on the stroke of midnight with an unsteady swagger and rosy face. You sleep on the couch half the time because you’ve decided … God knows what you’ve decided, really. Now, out of the blue, you want me to come and hang out with these new friends?’
‘I don’t swan,’ I baulked, unsure of where this latest outburst had come from. And I certainly didn’t come home at midnight, I knew that for certain. Any of my text messages could easily back that one up. Only moments ago he looked like he was embracing sweetness and light.
‘Then what do you call it, Emmy? Because I’m not the only one who’s noticed it.’
I did a quick check around the table. Faces as confused as mine stared back at me. ‘I don’t understand. Am I not allowed to have friends?’
‘She is right.’ Josh pointed his fork. ‘She can have friends.’
‘And isn’t part of being a couple spending time with each other’s friends?’ I continued. ‘Co-mingling and creating new groups?’
‘Then let’s go out. Just you and me, we’ll go out for dessert.’
‘That’s not exactly what I’d call socialising.’ I looked at him blankly until the realisation popped somewhere in the back of my mind like a slime filled balloon. ‘Wait. Are you asking me to choose between you and my friends?’
He sniffed and got up from the table, leaving his meal half-finished. ‘We can’t just do this on your terms.’
‘Well, are you and your friends going to sit around all night in your suits and congratulate each other about who owes who money, debits and credits and hidden cash burrows, and fuck knows whatever buzzword you’re all on this week?’ Craig’s nastier side had a habit of breaking mine out too, and I was quite sure I didn’t like it. In fact, I hated it. This was not a place I wanted to be.
‘What’s a cash burrow?’ Heather wrinkled her nose.
‘Just like you’ll all sit around and talk about how wonderful you are because you saved someone from the dreaded flu, unjammed the photocopier without getting covered in toner, or answered your phone within three rings, which is really hard for Emmy to do with all the socialising she does between patients.’
My mouth popped open. Heather’s followed, and Josh looked like he’d been slapped.
‘Oh, don’t look so shocked.’ He poured more wine into his glass. I watched as it glugged and sloshed like an angry waterfall. ‘What did you expect me to say?’
‘Well, I certainly didn’t expect you to insinuate that I’m nothing more than a dumb receptionist.’ I stood and threw my napkin down on the table.
He sighed heavily, a deepset frown replaced by something more crestfallen. ‘No, Emmy, no, that’s not what I meant. I shouldn’t have said that.’
‘Really? Because it sure sounded like that’s what you meant.’ I walked down the hall. ‘But, hey, maybe if I’m so stupid you should probably go and find yourself a smarter girlfriend.’
Unable to leave an argument well alone, Craig followed me down the hall. Mostly, he’d just quibble and mutter until the fight ignited all over again. The only other time he’d followed me was arguing over whether we should or shouldn’t take a subject together in third year. Right across school campus and into the carpark. It was ridiculous then, and it was ridiculous now. He slammed our bedroom door closed with so much force that the small wardrobe rattled in sympathy. I tore a dress from a hanger and started changing.
‘What the hell is going on with you, Emmy? Ever since we’ve got here, you’ve done nothing but disregard me.’
‘What’s going on with me?’ I stabbed at my own chest with a raging finger. ‘I’m going out and making a life with all my dumb friends which, by the way, I only do once a week. As for disregarding you, you clearly need a dictionary. The rest of my time is spent sitting about and waiting for you to get home. I wait for you to want to talk to me. I wait for you to look up from your phone long enough to hold a conversation.’
‘Once a week? You’re out at least four times a week.’
‘I go to the gym,’ I shrieked. ‘With other women, so I don’t turn into a bloody overstretched dumpling. I’m always home by eight, which is before you, and keep turning down the offer of drinks with people who have the potential to be great friends. And anyway, what’s going on with you, huh? Where are you spending your time?’
He shifted from foot to foot, the defiant pose. ‘You know I didn’t mean it like that.’
‘Then how exactly did you mean it?’
He stood, a little dumbfounded, shoulders up about his ears. ‘I don’t know, but it wasn’t like that.’
‘Right.’ I tugged on my zip. ‘Here’s the thing. I’m going out tonight because my friend has invited me and I want to spend time with him. Yes, him. Now, you can either come with me and expand your circle, or you can stay home. I was only asking out of politeness anyway, because you looked like you were finally in a good mood and I thought it might be a fun thing to go together. Party, drinks, cake, sex. Apparently, I read that wrong. Again.’
In the silence that followed, I had the opportunity to study him. His clothes were sharper, and he’d moved away from his early Noughties Tom Cruise inspired haircut, opting for something more along the lines of early Dr House. Overnight, he’d turned into a stranger. Did he see me that way, also?
‘What are you saying?’ he asked.
‘I’m saying I’m done.’
‘Emmy,’ he complained. ‘We can’t just be done. Don’t be stupid.’
‘Why not? You’ve just called me stupid and given me an ultimatum.’
‘Maybe that’s because I’m done with playing second fiddle to some people you’ve known five minutes.’
‘Looks like we’re both done then.’ I forced a wild-eyed grin, buttoning my cardigan and pulling my hair free of my coat. ‘Don’t you think?’
Chapter 19
Thousands of random thoughts flew through my head as I stomped my way down the street. Each new idea that popped up was shot down like a clay target, shattering to a thousand pieces in time for next one to be flung into the sky. All the while, I was sure I covered it over with a glossy sheen of stunned mullet who didn’t just pull the pin on Hand Grenade Craig.
The worst part was that William was getting caught up in these thoughts. Our breakfast was beginning to raise more questions than it answered, so I had those swimming about, tapping at the side of my head like goldfish in a bowl. Tap, tap, tap.
Digging around in my bag for a ringing phone made me feel all a bit too Mary Poppins for my liking. Past old receipts, a purse, swipe cars for work, a notebook that was too pretty to taint with pen ink (like, duh), and forty-seven million tourist ticket stubs, I eventually found my phone. The caller ID? The photo I’d taken of William at Tower Bridge. After this morning, it looked different.
‘Hello.’ I looked left, right, and jabbed the button on the pedestrian crossing.
‘Hey,’ he said. There was so much noise behind him that it sounded like he was shuffling through a mosh pit at a concert. ‘Just checking to see if you’re coming tonight? It’s okay if you aren’t. I mean, I’d really like you there, but I was just … curious.’
There was something about his call that made me feel like a live-action emotional pinball. While it was nice to know that I was wanted somewhere, I was just waiting for a paddle to give way and to drop through the bottom of insanity.
‘Have you thought about what that entails?’ I asked.
‘I have.’
‘When you get here, we’ll…’ I trailed off, echoing the start of many of our emails. It was a nervous moment to see if William would pick up on that.
‘… drink cheap cocktails on my front fence where I’m waiting for you?’
I smiled. ‘I’ll see you in a few minutes.’
‘That’s the spirit,’ he said. ‘Literally.’
In a street lined with almost identical redbrick homes, William’s stood out in a way only his could. Coloured twinkle lights shone from the window of the front room, and a small collection of red-headed garden gnomes looked after a small patch of dirt and a naked Barbie under the same window. As for the man himself, he was perched on the fence with a drink in each hand.
My arrival felt like the end of a mental marathon, years of planning and execution, and over in a heartbeat. I was looking forward to getting inside and drowning out my thoughts with loud music and even louder peers.
‘I even got you a fancy tropical umbrella.’ He raised a glass to me. ‘Long Island Iced Tea?’
‘You know how to make them?’ I asked.
He grimaced. ‘Not really. I just throw things together and hope for the best. That is not a guide for life, by the way.’
I sat beside him, though I turned to get a better look at the house. Music was thumping softly in the background, and the occasional screech of laughter could be heard over the top of it.
‘So, this is it, huh?’
He shifted beside me. ‘Finally. This is me.’
I threw him a sideways glance. ‘Should we go in, or should we savour the moment a bit longer?’
The last of his drink gurgled up through his straw. ‘Well, my drink is done, so I’m going inside. You can sit out here with all your friends if you like.’
I offered a gentle smile. If only he knew how close to the truth that was.
A small mushroom shaped light sat behind the front door and offered a welcoming glow through the side window to anyone sneaking in late at night. It was cute, and almost exactly what I’d expect of William. He paused and looked at me.
‘You ready?’
‘Yes.’
He pulled a face, and pushed the front door in.
We battled past coats that prevented the door opening completely, and a shopping centre’s worth of shoes were scattered about like disregarded toys. William mumbled an apology and pushed them all into the cupboard under the stairs with one fell kick.
I followed him through the burrow of the house, eyes searching, drinking everything in to my parched memory. Every single crack, peel, picture frame, and smell was catalogued for future reference, some moments serving to reignite the memory of old conversation. Bannisters shone like a good French polish, and a shoe brush that had been discarded somewhere in the summer months rested against the wall like an exhausted worker.
‘What’s wrong?’ William asked quietly.
‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘It’s just so…’
‘Weird?’ he asked.
‘… big.’
‘Well,’ his chest puffed out, ‘I don’t like to brag, but—’
‘—I meant the house.’ I knocked his arm with my glass. ‘But, yeah, a little surreal as well.’
Stepping out into the combined kitchen-dining-entertainment area was like stepping into an Architectural Weekly spread. The area was full of popping colours against crisp neutrals and designer furniture befitting a doctor on a decent wage. A bright blue kettle
sat atop a gloss white benchtop, though all other appliances were scarce, hidden behind doors. William caught me, again, checking everything out.
Behind me, the rumbling displeasure of colleagues who’d waited so long for me to arrive. Their variations on the word ‘finally’, held more weight than any of them would know, and only added to the slightly floaty feeling I was experiencing, torn completely between opposing sides of my life right now. It was nice to hear that I was wanted, at least.
‘How’s that drink going? Do you want another?’ William held his hand out, ready to take my glass.
‘Same again, thanks.’
Despite my attempts to get comfortable in the corner with Pam, Brian, Trevor, and Bob, I was drawn into the outside world of manicured hedges and deck lighting. William’s idea of a handful of friends extended to about thirty of his nearest and dearest and any children that sprung from that. Dinner had long been consumed, paper plates littering tables and empty beer bottles on their sides like inattentive toy soldiers.
I met university friends and mentors, neighbours, and the odd locally based cousin. If I got lost in the crowd, all I had to do was look for the hint of red in the crowd, which was more helpful than I thought. A nice warm tingle sat at the back of my brain and held me like only a grandmother could. It spread to a blanket-like warmth that protected me from the cold of the night and made choices a little harder to make. William and I tag-teamed on the drinks like a well-trained regiment. He’d leave me with school buddies to chat about his legendary pranks, only to return with a new mixer. Or, I’d disappear to the bathroom and magically find myself swinging past the kitchen on the way back.
My night began to feel like a carousel of colour and music, and it was exactly what I needed to counter how I’d been feeling earlier.
‘Alright you two, photo. Squeeze in.’ Someone I’d never met before appeared before us with their camera at the ready.
‘Like you squeeze a lemon?’ William shuffled closer to me. ‘I can do that.’
An Impossible Thing Called Love Page 15