I turned back to Russel and nodded my thanks, taking all the change I had out of my pocket, which amounted to about three pounds, and cast it into the tips jar. ‘Thank you. You’re doing a great job here, Russ. Keep it up.’ He straightened a little, infused with pride, as I turned on my heel and walked back along the queue of staring people.
I walked to the door and stepped outside, wondering what I was meant to do now that I had this information. Maybe he’d lost his phone or maybe he had that daily amnesia like Drew Barrymore in 50 First Dates. Unlikely, but maybe.
A far more likely and far more upsetting explanation was that I was just another person getting ghosted by their crush.
I took a deep breath, attempted to slow the beat of my heart back to usual human levels and turned in his direction. A sad, rain-spotted brown paper bag lay on the table, dripped upon by the leaky awning. The remnants of his banana bread lay scattered around the tabletop in the form of crumbs and a discarded, unused serviette. He looked up when I was a couple of paces away, doing a double take and looking back up the second time with an expression of horror on his face.
‘Nell, err, how are yer?’
‘Great,’ I said a little too enthusiastically and with a definite edge of suppressed anger. ‘You been busy?’
He shrugged. ‘Not really. You?’
Not really? Was that really all he had to say? My anger started to simmer in my stomach and I felt like I might say something too telling, something too much for this stage in the … I was going to say relationship but that probably wasn’t what this was.
‘Did you find someone to get your phone fixed?’ I asked, tilting my head passive-aggressively to the side.
‘My phone?’ Confusion found his face. ‘It’s not brok— ohh.’ Realisation hit. ‘I see what yer did there.’
‘Are you injured? Hurt? Did you run away with the circus or get hit by a car and die in a ditch? Am I talking to your ghost right now?’ I snapped.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t reply.’
I didn’t acknowledge his apology. I was too angry. I should probably have tried to calm down, but rational Nell was lost beneath hurt Nell.
‘All I wanted to do was get to know you a little more, help you out and be the friend that you say you so desperately need. But apparently you can’t quite decide what it is you want. I even thought I had a little crush on you there for a minute too.’ Understatement of the century right there.
‘I do want to be your friend.’ He stood from the table, picking up his takeaway cup of probably untouched tea and warming his hands around the cardboard. ‘I’ve just had quite a lot going on this week.’
‘But you just said you hadn’t been busy.’ I lifted my coffee to my lips and took a confident swig through the little plastic lid, the liquid coming out too hot and scalding my lip, but I didn’t react. He would not see weakness from me.
‘Look, Nell, I—’
I held up my hand and cut him off. ‘No need. I totally understand.’ I stared coldly into his eyes with what I hoped was an unreadably deadpan face. He slid his hand into mine and I shook it forcefully, trying not to acknowledge the twinge in my chest that felt like it might implode at any second. ‘It was nice to meet you, Charlie Stone. I hope you have a very nice rest of your life.’
‘Nell, I didn’t mean to—’
‘Don’t worry about it.’ I smiled a clearly meaningless smile, dropped his hand, turned around and called, ‘See you,’ over my shoulder.
I walked quickly, so quickly that I must have looked ridiculous.
I felt like crying but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of making me cry. I only cried at things that mattered like Instagram videos about abandoned dogs or episodes of Dolly Parton’s Heartstrings on Netflix. Charlie Stone didn’t matter to me and so I wasn’t going to cry about him. Why should he matter to me when I so clearly wasn’t even worth a text after all I’d done for him? No, my time spent thinking about brooding Irishmen was over.
I thought back to how embarrassingly sentimental I’d been about that first meeting in the coffee shop that I used to love, but would now only associate with Charlie Bloody Stone. How excited I’d been during that first meeting, how hopeful that Charlie and me were only at the beginning of what I’d hoped would be a long story. But it had turned out to be less of a tome and more of a novella, maybe even a haiku or perhaps a limerick was more fitting in this case.
I took a left and walked a little way up the steep hill towards home, moving on autopilot while a barrage of self-inflicted insults bounced their way around my brain, ricocheting back and forth like hurtful little squash balls. I’d instinctively taken the shortest way home past the town hall and I looked up at the face of the clock tower, high up at the end of the long Victorian building. Ned would be home by now, but the bags were hurting my hands, so I walked over to the war memorial, a bronze statue of a soldier surrounded by wreaths of plastic red poppies left over from last November. I slumped down on the surrounding wall, letting my bags of shopping slide onto the ground.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and saw that I had two messages, one from Charlie and one from Joel. Great, this day just kept getting better. I didn’t bother reading either. My time for caring what either of them had to say was over, so I swiped the texts away.
I don’t know how long I sat there, but it was growing dark by the time I got up and began the rest of the journey home. On the way, curiosity got the better of me and I opened up Joel’s message. All the words were the same as the last several hundred texts he’d sent, just in a different order.
Hey You, How’s things? I really think we need to talk. Sort out what we’re feeling and stuff. Could I come by at some point? J xxx
P.S. I found a box of some of your stuff and so I’ll bring that over too.
The ‘I’ve just happened upon some of your possessions’ excuse was one of Joel’s favourites. I think he’d actually found all of my stuff within a few weeks of us breaking up and had divided it up into little groups that he was systematically bringing back to me in dribs and drabs.
I couldn’t deal with Joel and whatever it was he wanted to talk about right now. So, I pushed my phone into my pocket and tried to forget about both of the troublesome men in my life.
When I eventually got home, I let myself into the house and was met by the sound of the radio playing softly in the kitchen. The bag handles had begun to dig into the fleshy pads of my fingers and I couldn’t wait to put them all down. I made a mental note to, in future, walk into town and catch the bus home instead. I walked into the kitchen and heaved the bags up onto the counter, sighing with relief when my hands were finally free.
‘Nell, I was wondering where you were,’ Ned said.
‘I got caught up in the farce that is my love life, but I’m back now and I come bearing Meat Medley Pizza and Channing Tatum.’
When I turned to show him the film cover, I found his eyes wide and staring.
‘What?’ I asked a little haughtily.
‘I’m making tea for us. Would you like some too?’ I frowned at him as he stared meaningfully into my eyes and used his pupils to point over in the direction of the table. I looked over and saw what I hadn’t when I walked in. Sitting at the table with a pained smile on his face was Charlie. He was peering out from behind what was left of the flowers he’d sent, which must have obscured him from my vision when I’d walked in. The eucalyptus was still holding up well, but the tulips had long since drooped and found their way into the bin. Ned, unable to stand the smell, was desperate to throw them out, but, even though the sentiment of the bouquet now made me grit my teeth, I still couldn’t throw them out just yet. I could hardly condemn the flowers to an early grave, simply because the person who sent them to me was an insensitive arsehole. That odd, sad look was in Charlie’s eyes again and I heaved a sigh of frustration. For God’s sake. Here we go again.
‘No, to the tea – thanks, Ned. There’s something slightly stronger in the bag that I ha
ve a feeling I’m going to be needing shortly,’ I said, my eyes glued to Charlie’s.
‘I asked Charlie to stay for pizza and a film. I hope that’s okay?’ he asked, meddling away.
I sighed. ‘What did you go and do that for?’ A series of annoyed tuts left my mouth before I turned back to Charlie. I must have been shooting daggers at him because he looked genuinely afraid. ‘Charlie, can I talk to you in the other room for a moment, please?’
‘Err, sure.’ He rose worriedly from the table and looked to Ned as if he might need to call in backup at any moment. He was dressed in that annoying cool way he always did, in the same black ripped jeans that he’d worn every single time I’d seen him, slightly pointy-toed shoes and a cable-knit jumper that was rolled up at the sleeves. I looked him over for what I hoped wasn’t a long time, turned abruptly and walked towards the living room. I slapped the light on with an overly aggressive hand, marched over to the far wall, turned with the dexterity of an Olympic swimmer and by the time I had folded my arms across my chest, he was tentatively making his way through the door.
‘What about our earlier conversation made it seem like I’d invited you round for tea?’ I asked.
He stood for a moment, looking unsure as his mouth opened and closed over and over again. Then without warning he stepped forward and flung his arms around me. His chin tucked itself into the curve of my neck and his hot breath danced through my hair. Whatever words I’d planned on saying next were pushed from my lungs in the form of a quiet wheeze as he squeezed me tightly. My arms unfolded and I managed to slide them out from between us. They fell to my sides and dangled there while Charlie hugged me. I felt my heart stutter a little and I was appalled with myself. Why was I so bloody forgiving? And what was it about this man that made me feel like doing it so easily?
‘Charlie?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Can you get off me, please?’
‘Sure. Sure,’ he said, taking his time in unhooking his arms and stepping back a few paces.
‘I didn’t write back because I’ve been dealing with some stuff. I know that’s not an excuse and I was wrong to ignore you, especially after we, yer know, left things. But I really do want us to be friends. I’m sorry.’
‘Is Carrick okay?’ I asked.
‘He’s fine.’ That guilty look crept back onto his face.
‘All of this has been on your terms,’ I said, surprised at how angry my voice came out. ‘Frankly, Charlie, that’s not how friendships work.’ I crossed my arms over my chest. ‘Meeting with you after you called could have landed me in real trouble with work – a job that I love. We talk, we flirt, you make sure I get home safely. Then you try to kiss me but end up shouting at me instead. Eventually, you come back and I feel like that was the one excusable mess-up. I was sort of pleased because I thought that it meant that you’d got it out of the way early. But then you ghost me, again. You couldn’t even be bothered to send an emoji in response?’
‘I know, I know. I suck.’
‘I’m almost thirty, I don’t have time for this school-kid shit. You come in here and act like …’ I paused, unsure how to put this into words. ‘You act like you want me, as a friend and sometimes way more than that. But at the slightest sign of anything happening between us, you turn into frigging Houdini.’
‘Nell, look. I have absolutely no idea what I’m doin’ at the moment. Life is runnin’ away from me a little and meetin’ you, well, it’s made me think about what I should do,’ he said, his eyes finding mine and, once again, I was struck by their blue intensity.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that I was changin’ things. I quit my job, made a plan and thought that I had everythin’ set out and then I met you and … you sorta cast a new filter over everythin.’
I frowned with confusion. What did any of this even mean?
‘Look, Charlie. I know you’re dealing with some heavy stuff with your uncle at the moment and I want to help you with it, but I can’t do that if you don’t talk to me.’
‘I know, I know and I do want to tell yer, I just … I know I’ve been an arse and the last thing I want yer to do is think badly of me.’
‘Well, I do think badly of you. I’m a person, with feelings. Feelings that you don’t seem to give a shit about.’
He winced as if he knew he was onto a loser. ‘I do give a shit about your feelin’s.’
‘Shall I pop the pizzas in?’ Ned called from the other room.
‘Yeah!’ I shouted back.
‘Nell—’ Charlie uttered.
I held up my hand to stop him. ‘My mum always said to forgive, but only to forget if I was certain that the person asking for forgiveness wouldn’t end up needing forgiveness again and, so far, you’ve needed it twice.’
‘Charlie, beer?’ Ned called again.
‘Ned!’ I shouted back. ‘Can’t you hear that we’re having an argument here?’
‘Sorry!’ he said and I heard the soft shutting of the kitchen door.
‘If yer don’t want to forgive me, then please don’t. I deserve no less. But, if it’s okay with yer, I’d like to stay for pizza.’
I hated myself for wanting him to stay.
‘Fine. But you’re Ned’s guest, not mine.’
The door creaked and I knew Ned was eavesdropping, even before he appeared and stepped into the room. He was holding his hands up like a white flag as he stepped into the battlefield that was the living room.
‘I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have been listening, but you weren’t exactly whispering.’ He came to a stop between us.
‘What do you want, Ned?’ I snapped.
He sighed and looked from me to Charlie. They spoke without words as they looked at each other, Charlie seeming to come to an unspoken understanding with Ned. It was almost as if … no.
‘Wait, do you two know each other?’ I asked, my eyes scrunched, my brows lowered.
Ned raised his brows at Charlie and nodded gently. ‘I think you need to tell her.’
Charlie looked panicked, his eyes darting to me and then back to Ned as he squirmed on the spot.
‘Look, Charlie, I know Nell and if you don’t explain yourself now, you’re never going to get her to trust you and you certainly won’t get her to stop asking questions until she knows everything.’
I took a step forward, frustration making me seethe.
‘Do you know each other?’ I said a little more firmly.
‘Yes. We know each other,’ Charlie said, his hands flailing as if he had no idea what to do with them or where to place them.
‘How?’
I looked to Charlie for an answer, but it was Ned who did. ‘Do you remember, two years ago when I got that hard call on my birthday? The jumper?’
‘Yeah, of course I do. It upset you for weeks.’
‘I didn’t know if the person who called had gone through with it, because they hung up before I was able to get them to come down from the tower. I scoured the obituaries and the news but I had very little to go on. I didn’t even know his name. All I knew was that he was from Birmingham and that he was Irish.’
It took a moment for Ned’s words to make sense, like liquid slowly seeping through sand. I gasped and held a hand to my mouth, my eyes turning to Charlie. ‘It was you?’
Charlie was looking down at the floor, almost embarrassed.
‘You wanted to kill yourself?’ I asked, panicking at the thought of a world without Charlie in it.
He looked up, eyes reddened and slick with moisture. ‘I did.’
‘Why?’ I asked.
‘Let’s tackle one thing at a time,’ Ned said, holding up a protective hand.
‘I couldn’t cope. Something really bad had happened and I didn’t know what to do to make it any better. The only thing I remember thinking was that if I couldn’t stop myself from feeling the bad things, that I’d just have to stop myself feeling anything at all, forever. So, I went to the clock tower and I was about to jump, when
I chickened out and threw myself backwards instead. I landed on the floor and that’s when I saw the sticker.’
‘The clock tower at the town hall? What sticker?’ I paused and took a breath, my lungs burning in my chest.
‘Yeah. There’s this sticker at the top with the number for the helpline on. I took it as a sign and called it and that’s how I met Ned.’
‘I had no idea it was him until Charlie mentioned the helpline when we were chatting in the kitchen and I put two and two together,’ Ned said.
‘So, it was never about your uncle at all?’ I asked.
He shook his head.
‘And when you called me,’ I said, taking a step closer to Charlie. ‘Were you planning on trying a second time?’
He met my eyes and, slowly, he nodded.
He wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his jumper and sniffled loudly. ‘So, do yer think I’m a nutjob now? Shall I let myself out?’
My breaths whistled in and out of my nose at rapid speed, my heart beating so fast that it sounded like a rocket ship about to take off. My feet were moving forward before I even thought to move them and in a second, I had reached him, my arms wrapping around him and pulling him to my chest.
I felt him sob once or twice, then stop himself, as if he was frightened to show this much emotion.
‘That’s why I’ve been all over the place. I’m sorry I dragged yer into it.’ He sniffed into the curve of my neck. ‘I’d put everythin’ in order; I’d made peace with it. I was ninety-nine per cent sure that it was what I wanted, then I met yer and I felt something that I thought I’d never feel again. It gave me hope, I guess, and then I wasn’t so sure anymore.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ I asked.
‘It’s not like it’s good date talk, Nell. No one talks about this kinda thing until it’s already happened and I didn’t want yer thinkin’ I was mental.’
‘Charlie.’ I pulled away and held him at arm’s length. ‘This doesn’t make you crazy. Being sad doesn’t make you crazy. I work at a fricking mental health charity, you idiot. I’m pretty much the most understanding person you could have chosen.’
At First Sight Page 9