“Here,” she says, bringing me over a cup of coffee and a large slice of chocolate cake, and pulling up a chair beside me so that we don’t have to shout at each other over the table. “Now tell me what on earth happened. When you came back, you looked like death. Your face was as white as a sheet.”
“Sorry. I didn’t want to drag you into my fucked up world,” I reply, breathing deeply.
“No problem. Just talk to me, okay?”
“Fine. You asked for it. Can you remember how earlier on this evening I told you that all men are fucked up, especially those ones that have had a girlfriend before? And then I backtracked and admitted that not all girlfriends were bad, and I cited the case of my flatmate Guy, and his girlfriend Sal, who I then classified as being a paragon of beauty, decency, and virtue. And I think I mentioned how lucky Guy was to have her?”
“Yes, it’s fair to say, that the conversation was one of the highlights of the evening so far, and I can remember you saying that…”
“Well, about twenty minutes ago, I just saw Sal snogging the living daylights out of some man that I have never seen before. A complete fucking stranger. And when I say snogging, I mean, the works. He had his hand right up her blouse stroking and groping her breasts and she was loving it. She was all over him, he was all over her, and she didn’t do anything to stop him.”
“You’re sure it was her?”
“Of course I am. I practically live with her. She’s round at our house all the time.”
“So where’s Guy this evening?”
“At home. Packing to go to the US on business, and finalising the preparations for tomorrow night, when he’s meant to be taking Sal out for a major night out on the town. Dinner at ‘The Ivy”, followed by the theatre and then champagne or something at a trendy club. Gail, what am I meant to tell him? How can I look him in the eye when I go home tonight? He’s really in love with her. He just told me this week that he thinks she may be the one!”, I practically shout.
“Calm down a little. Drink some of your coffee, ”Gail says.
“I can’t calm down. The thing is, this isn’t just about Guy. One of the reasons why I came down to London was to get away from my ex, who just slept with some other bloke. To be honest with you, I have a real issue with allowing myself to trust women. But Sal was becoming a beacon of hope for me, hope that if there were honest decent women like her around, a woman who could be trusted, then there must be others like her. Then tonight, …SHIT…my whole new world has just coming crashing down around me. She’s just the same as all of them!”
“It’s not only women, Andrew. That’s why I’m single too. I went out with this guy in London for about three years. It was great, until one day I caught him in bed with another girl. It turned out he’d being seeing her for a year. Behind my back. The other woman didn’t know anything about me either. That was eight months ago. I haven’t seen him since.”
“Ouch. I’m sorry. What the hell is it with people? Why do we do this to each other? Why can’t we trust anyone anymore?”
“Because it is just life. It’s the way things are. We just have to pick ourselves up, and move on. But somewhere out there I really believe that there is an ideal soul-mate for each of us that we will meet one day and fall in love with. It’s just a matter of time. But en-route, we will have a few crashes, get burned a little. It’s inevitable. We just have to make it our duty to survive and get over all the crap that gets in our way, because we owe it to that other person in the future to keep on going and persevere. Somewhere, someplace, somebody is waiting for us to discover them, and it’s our duty not to be late for that meeting. Whenever or wherever it is. “
“Do you honestly believe that?” I ask, incredulously.
“I used to,” she replies. “Anyway, what are you going to do now?”
“I don’t know. What do you think? Should I tell Guy?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps you should…?”
“But he loves her. If I tell him that she is two-timing him, he might resent me telling him, and it could damage our friendship.”
“So, not telling him, and letting him believe everything is hunky-dory is even better? How unhappy is he going to be if he finds out about it in two years time, as opposed to finding out about it now? And every time you see him and Sal kissing each other in the future, how are you going to feel?”
“Terrible…”
“So you’ve got to tell him now,” Gail insists. “If his girlfriend is messing around behind his back and you know about it, it’s your job to tell him.”
“I know,” I agree. “I’ve got no other choice. But not tonight. I couldn’t face him just now. I’ll tell him tomorrow afternoon.”
Silence.
“Gail,…”
“…You want to come and stay at my place tonight? Is that what you’re going to ask?”
“Yes. Don’t worry, if you let me come over, I’ll sleep on the kitchen floor or something. I promise to behave myself. After tonight, ever getting involved with a woman again is going to be the last thing on my mind.
She laughs.
..
Half an hour later, I am paying the taxi-cab for the ride back to Gail’s flat in Muswell Hill. By the time we get there, Luke is already in his bedroom fast asleep, so Gail and I sneak into the flat unseen. I turn down the offer of a cup of fruit tea or something stronger and soon I am lying on a Futon in the lounge. It turns out to be surprisingly comfortable, but it’s a long time before I start to fall asleep. Lying in the dark, I am wide awake.
I can’t get the sight of Sal kissing that other man out of my mind. I find it almost impossible to accept that after building her up in my mind as the almost perfect girlfriend, and knowing how much Guy loves her, that she would be just like the rest: a two-timing cow! My thoughts turn to Guy: I remember just how unhappy I was when I found out about Kate, and I would never wish that on anyone else, let alone my best friend. What the hell am I going to tell him?
I am too scared to face him, but I know that I have to. I have to do what is right, no matter how bad it will make me feel.
..
As soon as I make the mental decision that I will tell him, I suddenly feel very tired. I close my eyes. The next thing I know, I am flying. High above the ground. Escaping the reality of tonight.
..
---------------------------
..
The sound of curtains being drawn wakes me the next morning. Gail is standing by the windows, wearing a white fluffy dressing gown, looking out onto the street below.
“Morning,” I say, shielding my eyes from the light.
“You mean, ‘Good Afternoon’. It’s two o’clock.”
“What? You’re joking?” I laugh, reaching across to the watch in my shoe. “Bloody hell, you’re right. That’s half the weekend gone again.”
“Do you want a cup of coffee?” she asks, tip-toeing around me and making her way to the door.
“Any chance of a cup of tea?” I reply.
By the time she returns, I have pulled on my trousers and shirt and jumper and am rearranging the futon back onto its frame.
“Thanks,” I say. “And thanks for last night. I appreciate it.”
“No problem. Just don’t tell anyone at work, or no doubt they’ll jump to the wrong conclusions as usual.”
“I promise. Don’t worry about that.” I sit down on the newly reformed couch and look at Gail. She looks very sexy in the bathrobe, sitting opposite me on a chair. Her legs are crossed, the dressing gown having fallen to the side a little and exposing the bottom half of one of her legs. “Gail, what do I do? Do I tell Guy?”
“I think so.”
“Good, because so do I. I promised myself last night that I would. I just hope he doesn’t shoot the messenger. I once told a good friend of mine just how mad he was to mess around with drugs, and I persuaded him that he should stop. He did. But he never talked to me again. It’s not exactly the same, but I hope Guy doesn’t blame me
for what I have to tell him.”
“Don’t worry. I don’t think he will. Just pick the right moment to tell him, that’s all.”
“Is there ever a right moment for something like that?”
“Probably not. Anyway, how about you let me cook you some breakfast. If I’m going to send you home the bearer of bad tidings, just let me make sure you do it on a full stomach.”
“I don’t exactly see the connection, but that would be great.”
“Okay, then why don’t you take a shower while I get busy in the kitchen. I’ve left a towel in the bathroom for you already. It’s the blue one.”
..
As the steam in the shower does what it can to wash some of the stress away from last night, I begin to smell something wonderful coming from the kitchen.
It turns out to be a Spanish omelette with some toasted German rye bread.
“My gran taught me how to cook that,” she says approvingly, watching as I devour the lunch and clean my plate. “It’s dead easy to make, but it tastes amazing.”
“Oh no!” I suddenly announce half-way through breakfast, “ I completely forgot… Live8! Today is Live8! Blast, what with all the excitement of last night, I completely forgot all about it. Do you mind if we switch the TV on?” I say, already moving through to the lounge.
“I can’t believe I’ve missed half of it! I’ve been looking forward to this for months,” I say, switching the TV on and picking up the remote. The TV comes alive and I immediately switch channels a few times until an image of Hyde Park fills the screen.
“You won’t believe this, but I was six years old when the original Live Aid took place. I can remember sitting with my sister and my dad in our front room and watching some of it. I got bored after a while though and fell asleep, but my dad watched the whole thing from start to finish.”
“Was your dad really into music?” Gail asks, as she comes to join me.
“Absolutely. I think that’s where I got my interest from. He used to be crazy about Pink Floyd. He used to play their music over and over again, and I think he must have brain washed me, because now I love Pink Floyd too.”
“They’re on this later,” Gail replies, pulling her legs up underneath her on the couch and settling back.
“I know, I’m really looking forward to it…”
For the next few hours, Gail and myself sit back and veg out to Elton John, Coldplay, and a myriad of other unbelievable groups who all take their turn to come on stage and create history. It’s a hot day outside, and we open the windows to let in some fresh air. We can hear the strains of Live8 music drifting in from other flats in the street, and it all adds to the feeling of taking part in something truly special and global, just like the original all those years ago.
During the likes of Scissor Sisters, Annie Lennox and Josh Stone we swap stories of different concerts we have been too- it turns out we were both at Glanstonbury last year-, and we chat about our favourite artists, and each recount a few stories from our childhood when the first Live Aid concert took place.
The afternoon passes slowly, and I forget all about the time.
During one of the many breaks between the bands finishing on stage and the next band coming on, the conversation starts to drift back to the present day and reality.
“So what are you doing this evening?” I ask her.
“I don’t know. Did I tell you that Ben asked me out last night?”
“No. So, was that after or before we shared our little kiss?” I ask, half-jokingly, but semi-seriously.
She turns a little red.
“Afterwards,” is all she replies, although there is a trace of a smile as she visibly remembers the moment between us. I sip my tea. She picks up the dishes and starts to pack the dishwasher.
“And? Was it yes or no?” I prompt, judging that a sufficient amount of time has passed to carry on.
“I said no. But then he asked me again, just before you came back and we left.” I watch her put both of our cups into the top tray of the machine. As she is trying to adjust the plates on the bottom deck to make room for the frying pan, she turns to me and asks, “So what do you think of him?”
“Why are you asking me?” I reply.
“Because you work with him.”
“Yeah, but he isn’t asking me out. You’re the one with all the curves in the right places. And may I say, what wonderful curves they are…”
She turns, picks up a tea-towel and throws it at me.
“Stop. Don’t make it worse than it is. I told you last night that I like you, but I mean it when I say that nothing like that is going to happen between us. So, there’s no point in making those sort of remarks. It just reminds us both of something we can’t have.”
“Gail, I don’t understand this thing you’re going on about. Just because...”
“But I do. And that’s all that matters. Maybe it’s different for men, but I’m a woman,”
“I’ve noticed,” I interrupt very quickly.
“…and female office politics are pretty harsh. It’s just not going to happen okay?”
I look at her, not knowing how to react, but when I sense that she is entirely serious, I shrug and make a small facial expression, indicating some form of unwilling acceptance of a ridiculous situation.
“So,” she continues.” I’m asking you as a friend, what do you think of Ben?”
“He’s alright. He’s harmless, don’t worry. I actually quite like him. Why, are you thinking of changing your mind and going out with him?”
“No, I don’t think so…”
“Listen, far be it from me to encourage the love of my life to go out with someone else…”, I say as Gail shoots me another warning look, “but, if it’s definitely not going to happen between us, then maybe you should just meet up with him for drinks or something. If not now, then maybe sometime in the future. You never know, he might grow on you? You could do far worse, and he’s quite good looking, at least, not being that way inclined, I think he’s …well, you know what I mean.”
She finishes putting the cutlery in the machine, looks around the kitchen to check she hasn’t missed anything else, then closes it and hits the little red button. There is a moment of silence, then an audible whooshing sound as the water starts to work its magic.
“Yeah, he’s not bad looking, and he seems very nice. It’s just that he seems so keen. It puts me off a little bit.”
“Gail, give the guy a break. No, give all men a break. You’re a very pretty girl, and you have a good head on your shoulders, you are caring, kind and considerate, and…and this is the big ‘and’, …you are single. That is an incredible and magic combination and from what I am learning, a very scarce commodity in London. No wonder he’s keen. And what is it that a single woman wants? She wants a good looking, interesting guy to sweep her off her feet and make her feel special. So why don’t you give the guy a chance, and just see what he has to offer when he’s not tongue tied and a bit more relaxed and himself. You never know, maybe he will be the love of your life. And even nicer than me?”
She sits down opposite me, digesting what I just said.
“I don’t know…maybe you’re right.”
“No, take it from me. I do know. And I am right.”
And for once in my life, maybe I am.
..
It’s five o’clock. I have successfully procrastinated going home until now, but I realise that I can’t put it off any longer. I am just about to leave Gail’s flat when I get an SMS from Guy, asking where I am and informing me that he has to leave sooner than planned so that he can get some flowers for Sal before the florist closes.
For a moment I consider calling him on his mobile, but then I realise that there was no way I could just break the news to him over the phone. Something like this you have to break gently, face to face. I have no choice but to wait and tell him when he comes home tomorrow afternoon…, before he leaves to go to the States.
I spend the next ten minu
tes with Gail debating how to reply to his SMS, and eventually we go for the cowards way out and just send a text message back saying that everything is fine. “I’m fine, will be back late. See you tomorrow afternoon.”
When Gail suggests that if Guy was planning a heavy romantic night with Sal, then there could be a strong possibility that Sal may break up with Guy tonight, I realise that there could be some truth in it. If Sal really liked the other man I caught her with last night, then her conscience might just drive her to telling Guy the truth and they would split up tonight. In which case, by default, I would be let off the hook…
“If that happens, then perhaps I’d better be in the flat and ready for when he comes home? He’ll be devastated, and maybe I can help him through it by being there to talk to him?”
“Good plan.”
“You know what?” I say to Gail as we stand at the doorway to her flat, just as I am leaving.
“No,…what?” she laughs back.
“I’d say that spending today with you has been the most enjoyable time I’ve had since I arrived here to London.”
“Me too.”
“Gail, I appreciated you being there for me last night and today, and ‘yes’, I would really like to be friends with you.”
“Me too. Good luck tonight if Guy comes home, and call me if you need to talk about anything, okay? Either way, let me know what happens, because I’ll be wondering the whole time what’s going on.”
We exchange phone numbers, give each other a quick hug, and I leave.
..
Chapter Sixteen
..
..
The flat is eerily silent when I return home. Even the traffic outside sounds quiet, which surprises me, since it is a busy Saturday night. After making myself a cup of tea from the kitchen, I sit in the lounge and put my feet up, switching on the TV and returning to Live8, which is still in full swing in Hyde Park. My thoughts are elsewhere, half-expecting the door to open at any time and for Guy to come storming into the flat, his heart broken and his life seemingly in tatters. But the minutes tick by and there is no Guy, no broken heart, and nothing much to do except continuing waiting.
The Sleeping Truth : A Romantic Thriller (Omnibus Edition containing both Book One and Book Two) Page 8