Say Hello and Wave Goodbye

by Marina Johnson

  Yeah , sneers the Beccabird, because that wouldn’t have been the slightest bit humiliating would it?

  Okay. Shut up.

  ‘You don’t owe me anything,’ Flynn says as we pull up outside the house.

  ‘I definitely do, the steaks cost a fortune not to mention the bottles of wine that Jonathan was throwing down his neck. You can bet your life he wouldn’t have ordered cheap ones.’

  ‘Nope. You definitely don’t.’ Flynn leans over and grabs the bag of kebabs from the floor and we clamber out of the car. ‘I didn’t pay.’ He grins. ‘Jonathan’s going to be paying.’

  ‘But you paid.’ I look at him in confusion. ‘I saw you take your wallet with you and the waiter took you up to the bar to pay.’

  ‘Oh, I intended paying.’ He unlocks the front door and we go into the house. ‘But the waiter wouldn’t let me, he was mightily pissed off with Jono – didn’t like the way he spoke to him and belittled him. He wouldn’t take my card, said he’d make sure that the other gentleman – as he put it – settled the bill before he left.’

  I follow Flynn into the kitchen and watch as he clatters around opening cupboards and taking plates out and unwrapping the food. Sausage’s feet click on the tiles as he follows him, ever hopeful of a morsel coming his way. I bend down and tickle his ears and wish that I’d stayed at home and spent the evening watching telly with him snuggled on my lap. Much safer.

  ‘Jonathan’s not going to be happy about that.’ He won’t, not because he has to pay but because we won’t be there to see him do it and be impressed by him.

  ‘No, he won’t. I had my card out ready but the waiter just wouldn’t let me, I think he was intent on having his revenge for the organ grinder remark. So I thought, you know what, serves the prick right, let him pay for it, he was the one guzzling the wine and showing off.’

  ‘I cringed when he said the organ grinder thing, I’m surprised they didn’t throw him out there and then he was so bloody rude.’

  ‘He’s lucky the waiter didn’t deck him; I would’ve, job or no job.’ Flynn looks at me and grins. ‘With a bit of luck he’ll have forgotten his wallet and they’ll make him do the washing up or clean the toilets.’

  A vision of Jonathan cleaning the toilets pops into my head and I giggle; he wouldn’t have the first idea where to start because he never did any sort of housework when we were together, he couldn’t even hang a towel up.

  Flynn hands me a plate heaped with kebab and I follow him into the lounge and collapse onto the sofa. I ease my feet out of the traitorous heels and wiggle my toes. Bliss. Flynn flips his shoes off and manages to take his jacket off and fling it over the back of the chair all whilst juggling his plate of food from hand to hand. He flops down next to me on the sofa.

  ‘Of course…’ I chew a mouthful of the most delicious kebab that I’ve ever tasted. ‘…the fact that the waiter fancied the pants off you obviously helped.’

  Flynn looks at me in surprise. ‘Me? It wasn’t me he fancied it was you – why do you think he followed you to the toilets? I thought he was going to muscle his way in there with you. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.’

  I laugh and nearly choke on my kebab. ‘No, it was definitely you, how could you not have noticed? Honestly Flynn, you can’t be that unaware.’

  How can he not know how gorgeous he is? I say this from a purely platonic point of view, obviously.

  Flynn shrugs. ‘Nope, it was you he was drooling over, not me. He most definitely wasn’t gay.’

  Really? Well, you should know, I think to myself. My gaydar is completely broken and beyond repair because I was sure it was Flynn he had the hots for. What does that say about me that I don’t even notice when someone finds me attractive? Am I so socially unaware that I don’t pick up on other people’s signals? Well, if he did fancy me, I’m sure he didn’t after I’d knocked him over outside the toilet. And if that didn’t put him off then the table landing most definitely would.

  We eat in companionable silence and when Flynn has finished wolfing down his food he disappears into the kitchen and reappears with two tall glasses of a bright red liquid which he places carefully on the coffee table.

  I finish my last mouthful of kebab and stare at the drinks.

  ‘I’m almost afraid to ask what that is…some sort of homemade wine you’ve made out of berries you’ve picked?’

  ‘Cherryade,’ he states as he picks it up. I watch as he drinks the whole glass down and then licks his lips. ‘Best thing ever after a kebab.’

  I pick mine up and take a slurp. ‘Mmm…I’d forgotten how tasty it is.’ I take another mouthful. ‘Really nice and refreshing.’

  ‘Tis. We used to live on it as kids, that and dandelion and burdock.’

  ‘I remember, do they even sell that anymore?’

  ‘Not sure, this was my favourite, I was never too sure what a burdock was and dandelions never looked that tasty to me. Although it was better than water which was the only other option.’’

  The cherryade reminds me.

  ‘So, what happened to your hair, Flynn?’

  He rubs his hand over his stubbly head.

  ‘It needed to go, I only let it get that long ‘cos it kept my head warm for the winter, it was always going to come off but after that burst sewer pipe I couldn’t be arsed with washing it all so I whizzed it off. Which wasn’t as easy as I thought it’d be.’

  A vision of Flynn trying to get a pair of clippers through all that hair pops into my head and I start to giggle.

  ‘You can laugh,’ he says ruefully. ‘I had to hack at it with scissors first and then whizz it off with the clippers, made a right bloody mess, hair all over the place. Had to sweep it all up into a carrier bag and shove it in the dustbin there was so much of it. Sausage was going mental, running around barking like he’d seen a rat or something. That’s why I was so late getting to the restaurant.’

  ‘I quite liked the red, it suited you.’ I try to keep a straight face but I can’t.

  ‘I only dyed it for charity, one of my customers was raising money and I got sponsored to have it dyed red. Raised over five hundred quid.’

  ‘Wow, that’s amazing, and so sweet of you.’ So much for my drag queen theory.

  Flynn looks uncomfortable. ‘Don’t know about that, it wasn’t any effort on my part was it, having it dyed? I just had to sit there while they did it.’

  ‘What was the charity?’

  ‘A dementia one. The wife of one of my customers has it and she had to go into a home. Really sad, they’ve been married nearly sixty years and she doesn’t remember who he is anymore.’

  ‘God, that is sad.’

  ‘It is. He doesn’t really need me to do his garden because he does it himself. I think he’s just lonely and wants a bit of company.’

  Flynn seems lost in thought but after a while he shrugs. ‘Anyway, back to tonight. Do you think we fooled Jono, as a couple? Do you think he’ll leave you alone now?’

  I think back over the events of the evening before it turned into a circus.

  ‘Yes, I think we fooled him; you were very convincing.’

  Flynn laughs, pleased with himself.

  ‘Yeah, I thought I was too. I could tell he didn’t like me pretty much straight away. Can’t say the feeling wasn’t mutual.’

  ‘No, he wouldn’t like you – you’re too much of a threat to him.’

  ‘Me, a threat? Why would I be a threat to him?’

  ‘You’re way better looking than him, not to mention successful with your own business and too well-mannered to bang on about it the way he brags about himself.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I did lie about that a bit, didn’t I? I sort of gave him the impression that I had loads of people working for me and didn’t get my hands dirty. He wouldn’t have been impressed if he knew that really I’m a one-man band who does all of the labouring myself.’

  ‘You’re worth ten of him, I must have been wearing blinkers when I was with him all of those years
ago.’

  Yes of course , the Beccabird reminds me, that’d be why you were letting him hold your hand and starting to feel sorry for deceiving him, wouldn’t it? Face facts, if Flynn hadn’t been there, you’d have ended up going home with him.

  No I wouldn’t. Would I?

  ‘Well you’re definitely way too good for him and he must have put a spell on you when you were together. Just don’t fall for it again.’

  ‘I won’t.’ He must have seen Jonathan stroking my hand when he got there. God, he must think I’m a completely pathetic pushover.

  You are! squawks you-know-who .

  ‘You need someone who’s going to appreciate you.’

  ‘I do,’ I agree.

  ‘Someone who’ll look after you and treat you how you should be treated.’

  ‘I most definitely do,’ I say, warming to the theme. ‘Someone who’ll look after me and put me first and not cheat on me.’

  ‘That’s right.’ Flynn takes my cherryade off me and takes a slurp. ‘Someone who appreciates how lovely you are.’

  ‘Aw, thank you.’ He’s so lovely. ‘What I need, Flynn,’ I announce in a decisive tone as I take the cherryade back from him and finish it, ‘Is someone just like you.’

  As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I could shoot myself. Oh my God I sound as if I’m coming onto my gay best friend! The Beccabird is falling about laughing and I desperately try to think of something to say to retrieve the situation. I see the shock on Flynn’s face and hurriedly start blabbering and hope that I’m not digging an even bigger hole to fall into.

  ‘Someone just like you, but not you, obviously,’ I gabble, ‘Because that would just be weird, wouldn’t it.’ I laugh. ‘So someone like you, but not you, obviously,’ I say again to emphasise the point.

  The shock on Flynn’s face changes to an expression that I can’t read but he seems okay; he’s not jumping up off the sofa to get away from me and giving me the I’m gay so it can never happen talk so I think I’ve averted disaster. God, imagine if he thought I fancied him – how mortifying would that be?

  Phew. Embarrassing situation averted.

  The Beccabird snorts but doesn’t say anything because she doesn’t need to.

  I’m an idiot who should think before she opens her big, fat, gob.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I ’ve only bumped into Jonathan once in the couple of weeks since the dinner debacle. I was on my way upstairs to the restaurant with Trina for a sneaky bacon sandwich and he was coming down the stairs clutching a takeaway coffee. He winked at me as he passed and gave me a complicit smile but that was it; no attempt at conversation at all. He hasn’t sent any texts either.

  Trina raised an eyebrow at his retreating back and once we’d devoured out bacon butties we’d sat in the restaurant re-hacking over the dinner disaster. Trina kept saying she wished she’d been there; I told her it might have been funny in the retelling but it definitely wasn’t when it happened. I’ve banned her from going on YouTube to search for it because I know it’ll be on there and if I know that it definitely is I won’t be able to stop myself from looking.

  So I’m thinking that maybe Jonathan did believe that Flynn and I are partners.

  Disappointed? asks the Beccabird.

  Of course not. Maybe a bit surprised, that’s all, I didn’t expect him to give up so easily. I’m also wondering what, exactly, Flynn said to him in the restaurant – because that might also be why Jonathan gave up so easily. Although I have no way of knowing because if I ask Flynn again he’ll think I don’t believe what he told me. Which I don’t. It’s all very mysterious but at least I don’t have to worry every time my phone pings that it’s Jonathan.

  Yeah, right, the Beccabird says annoyingly. Admit it, you’re just gutted that he clearly doesn’t fancy you enough to pursue you.

  Oh shut up.

  The thing I have started to wonder about is if Jonathan and Em are seeing each other because from the safe distance of my desk I’ve seen him coming out of Em’s office quite a few times. He seems to spend a lot of time in there, although I suppose he could be talking to Ed so it might be totally work related and I’m just being overly suspicious.

  But I know Jonathan and I don’t trust him.

  It’s none of your business who he goes out with , the Beccabird reminds me, he can see who he likes.

  Completely true but I wouldn’t like him to treat Em the way he treated me; she’s not my friend but she’s a decent sort. Cold, but decent.

  Anyway, enough about him. At home – because it really does feel like home now – Flynn and I have settled into a routine of sorts over the last couple of weeks, not that it was planned or that we’ve even spoken about it; it just seemed to happen. Basically, if I’m cooking for myself then I’ll make enough for two and Flynn does the same when he cooks and it seems to work pretty well. It saves us from making double the mess in the kitchen at different times – Emily style – and apart from a few nights when Flynn has been out or I have, we’ve been eating together and spending most evenings with each other. And Sausage, of course. And when you think about it, it makes total sense because what’s the point of the both of us cooking for one?

  We’ve even ventured across the road to the George on a few occasions to watch the open mic nights and they’ve been hilarious. The landlord, Charlie, is so funny and I think he has the open mic evenings so he can get up there and sing all of his favourite rock numbers himself.

  It’s really nice living with a friend instead of being on my own all of the time and it certainly beats living in one room and eating my dinner on a lap-tray sitting on the bed. The embarrassing comment that I made to Flynn that sounded as if I was coming onto him hasn’t been mentioned, thank God, and we’ve slipped into an easy friendship. I did plan to bring it up and clear the air but stopped myself; sometimes you just have to know when to keep your mouth shut. Least said, soonest mended, to quote Mum.

  I have told Flynn the whole truth about Jonathan though – because what’s the point of having friends if you can’t confide in them? Plus it was a long time ago now and I really need to get over blaming myself for everything and wallowing in the past. Flynn was very quiet when I told him all about it though he didn’t say very much at all so God knows what he thought. But anyway, it’s said now so I won’t be mentioning it again because Jonathan has had more than enough air time in my life. Flynn always refers to Jonathan as Jono and now when I think about Jonathan I’m reminded of Flynn calling him Jono and it makes me chuckle to myself. Maybe I should call him that to his face because he definitely wouldn’t like it or find it in the least bit funny. Not posh enough for him.

  But you’re not going to see him, are you? the Beccabird helpfully reminds me.

  No. Definitely not. Except possibly at work .

  I’ve been to see Mum and Dad again and they’re chomping at the bit to book the flights to Australia. I feel a bit bad because it’s just me that’s holding them up because I’ve been dithering as usual and haven’t booked the time off from work yet. I need a kick because they’re being very generous by paying for me so the very least I can do is get my arse in gear and get the time off. They’ve been into the travel agents and priced the flights up and once they’ve got the nod from me they can go ahead and book them.

  I need to request three weeks off from work – they’re going for six weeks because they want to make the most of it so I’ll be flying back on my own which will be strange because I’ve never flown on my own before.

  Which of course means that I’ll have to give my holiday form to Em.

  I don’t know why I’ve dithered, it’s not exactly a big deal because I have lots of holidays carried over from last year so I need to start taking some time off anyway. From what I’ve seen in the office the attitude towards holidays is pretty laid back so I don’t know why I’m making such a problem where one doesn’t exist.

  Although I have noticed that there’s been a strange atmosphere in the office t
his last week; I can’t quite put my finger on it and even the youngsters are feeling it too because they’ve even been talking to me and Trina to try find out if we’ve heard anything on the grapevine. Trina says there’s definitely something going on but even she can’t find out anything concrete and she always knows someone who knows someone who knows but even she’s come up against a brick wall. There is gossip – totally unsubstantiated – that the company is being taken over. Which reminded me about Jonathan’s bragging to Flynn about Atkinsons merging with the US. If it is true I’m sure he wasn’t supposed to tell us but he never could keep anything secret, he just doesn’t understand the concept of keeping his mouth shut. So although Jonathan is a liar I think there might be some truth in it.

  I repeated it to Trina and sworn her to secrecy although I don’t know why. If it is true – and I’m guessing it is – Jonathan shouldn’t have been showing off about it. Anyway, it’s not my secret to keep.

  You still care, because you don’t want to get him into trouble, the Beccabird chirrups.

  Not true - I don’t like getting anyone into trouble and it might not be true; it might just be the usual Jonathan bragging bullshit.

  The Beccabird harrumphs and flaps her wings.

  I’ve also discovered that the youngsters are actually quite okay once you get chatting to them. They are self-obsessed – aren’t we all – but they’re also quite funny and refreshing and I’m feeling a lot more comfortable in the office now; I feel as if I’ve settled in and people are getting to know me. I feel more at home.

  I also have another meeting with Em this morning regarding my ‘project’, a follow up meeting. Because I used to do it all the time at Westchester it didn’t take me very long at all to whip up a spreadsheet and put on all of the info she’d requested and email it to her each week. She emailed late yesterday to call me in for a meeting this morning but I’m not anxious about it this time because I know what I’ve done is fine. It’ll also be the perfect opportunity to give her my holiday request form and get that out of the way and then Mum and Dad can book the flights.