Читать книгу A Hopeless Romantic - Harriet Evans - Страница 10

Yes, Dan had a girlfriend, Amy. Just a tiny detail, nothing much. They were as good as living together, too – although she still had her own place. Another detail Laura tried to forget about. She had almost managed to convince herself that if she didn’t tell anyone about her – well, what was it? A ‘thing’? A ‘fling’? A fully formed relationship just waiting to move into the sunlight of acceptance? – her liaison with Dan, then perhaps the outside world didn’t matter so much. And it didn’t, when she was with him. Because he was The One, she was sure of it. So it became surprisingly easy for Laura, who was basically a good girl, who never ever thought she could do something like this, to turn into a person who was sleeping with someone else’s boyfriend.

She had tried, after Jo and Chris’s wedding. She told herself – and Dan – that it wasn’t going to happen again. She bit her nails to the quick about it because, much as Laura might be clueless about some things, she was clear about other things, and one of those was: don’t sleep with someone who has a girlfriend. She’d already tried going cold turkey from him, as autumn gave way to winter, and as she realised she was falling for him, badly. She tried avoiding him at the tube station – but she couldn’t. She tried to forget him – but she couldn’t. When she thought about him, it was as if he was talking to her, pleading with her, communicating with her directly. Laura, it’s you I want, not Amy. Laura, please let me see you, his eyes and his voice would say in her head, until the noise got so loud it was all she could hear. Every time was the last time. Every time was the first time.

Laura knew it was wrong to be thinking like this. But she assuaged that secret guilt in her head with the knowledge that Dan and Amy weren’t getting on well. Dan himself had told her it wasn’t working out. Well, he had in so many words, with a sigh and a shake of the head, in the early days of their coffee mornings together on the tube platform. And she knew from Jo that Dan was going out with Chris and his other mates more, playing more football, watching more football, in the pub more, working harder. Added to which, no one in their group ever really saw Amy. They were together, but they were never actually together. She was completely offstage, like a mystery character in a soap opera whom people refer to but who never appears. You know when a couple are happy together – mainly because you don’t see either of them as much, and when you do they’re either together, or they talk about each other. Or they’re just happy. You know. Laura knew – as did everyone else – Dan wasn’t happy with Amy. Dan wanted out, he just didn’t know how to get out.

And, actually, Amy wasn’t really her friend. They occasionally all went out for drinks, Jo and Chris, Dan and Amy, Hilary, Paddy and Laura and so on, especially now Chris and Dan had moved nearby. But Amy rarely came along, and in any case, Laura had long ago realised she couldn’t stand her. Never had been able to, in fact. Because not only was Amy a quasi-friend of hers, they had also been at school together, many moons ago, and there is no more mutually suspicious relationship than that of two ex-schoolmates who are thrown together several years later. Added to which, Amy had been one of the mean girls who had teased Laura relentlessly about her love for Mr Wallace the oboe teacher, and had spread the subsequent rumours surrounding Laura giving up the oboe. She’d even told Laura’s mother Angela about it, at a school concert, all wide-eyed concern. Angela Foster had got the wrong end of the stick, and assumed Laura was being pestered by Mr Wallace. She’d complained. He’d nearly been fired. The whole thing was deeply embarrassing. So Laura’s dislike of Amy was genuinely historical, rather than based upon the fact that Amy was with the man Laura felt quite sure she loved. This made her feel better, in some obscure way.

Amy ate nothing, exercised obsessively, talked about shoes and handbags the entire time (like, the entire time) and she played with her beautiful red hair. Non-stop. It was her thing. She always had, even when she and Laura had been eight-year-olds in plaits and virgin socks at school. Twenty years later, the same white hand would smooth down the crown of its owner’s hair as Amy softened her voice to tell a sad story – about a friend’s mother’s death, or something bad in the news. Or said something deeply meaningful at the pub, which made Laura want to gag childishly on her drink.

The thing was, Laura knew Amy was the kind of girl men fell for, even though she led them a merry dance. Laura wasn’t. She was nice, she was funny, but she knew she was ordinary, nothing special. Why would anyone, especially Dan, choose her when they could be with Amy? Why was it he got her so well, laughed at her jokes? What amazing thing had led him to think of her as this perfect person for him, just as she knew that he was her Mr Right? It perplexed her, as much as it exhilarated her. It was extraordinary, it was magical, and so even though it was underhand and stressful, she carried on doing it.

‘So, then she said I should know why she was pissed off. And I’m thinking, well god, woman, you’re pissed off the entire time, how the hell am I supposed to tell the difference between you being annoyed because I was late back from football or annoyed because I didn’t notice your new haircut? Is that for me? Hey, thanks so much. Toast, too. Wow.’

Laura set down the tray on her bed. She peered out of the window. It was two months after Jo and Chris’s wedding, a cold, grey Saturday morning in February. Dan shifted up in bed, crossed his legs, and pulled the tray towards him.

‘This is great,’ he said, pouring some tea. ‘Come on, get back into bed.’

Laura hopped in beside him. He handed her a cup of tea and kissed her. ‘Mm. Thank you,’ she said.

Dan and Amy had had another huge row the night before and Amy had stormed back to her own flat. Laura cleared her throat.

‘So, what did she say next?’ she asked, desperate for more details, but not wanting them too, fearing what he might say or not say.

Dan frowned momentarily, as if thinking something through. He put his mug back down on the tray and took her hand, looking serious. ‘Forget about it,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry.’ He looked down. ‘It’s crap of me. I’m so crap, boring you with all this stuff. It’s…I’ve got to sort it out.’

‘Yes,’ said Laura, her heart beating fast.

‘Not just for me,’ said Dan, looking intently at her. ‘For…for Amy as well, you know?’

‘Yes, of course,’ Laura said, less urgently. ‘Amy.’ She picked up a slice of toast and bit into it. ‘Mm.’

Dan smiled, and picked up another piece. ‘So, I’m pretty much free today now. Do you want to…you know. Spend the day together? I know it’s last-minute, but we might as well make the most of it.’ He leant forward and kissed her.

‘Er…’ Laura said, swallowing fast. She had lunch with Paddy and Simon, but she supposed she could cancel. And instead she and Dan could go to Kenwood House. Muffled up in scarves and hats. Drink hot chocolate and walk through the grounds hand in hand. Kiss in the lanes of yew trees that led away to the Heath. Her eyes sparkled. She’d cancel Paddy and Simon – they were boys, they didn’t mind about that sort of thing. Although – gah. Simon, more a graduate of the love ’em and leave ’em school, was always taking the piss out of her about her love life. Saying she was a romance addict, that she’d ditch her own brother at the last minute if there was a chance of a red rose heading her way. And she’d done it a couple of weeks ago to him as well…the cinema, shit. She bit her lip. He was going away soon. She was a bad sister.

‘Don’t cancel anything special for me,’ Dan said, as if reading her mind. ‘It was just a suggestion.’ He stroked her knee. ‘God, it’s so nice to be here, sweetheart.’

‘I think I was supposed to be having lunch, but it’s quite a vague thing,’ said Laura, trying not to choke on her toast. ‘I’d…of course I’d prefer it if…’ His hand was lying on the duvet. She hooked her little finger around his, and said, ‘Yes, I’d love to spend the day with you. We should talk, anyway.’

Laura was always trying to do this, stage moments where she and Dan ‘talked’. But it never seemed to work. She desperately wanted there to be some kind of agenda to their relationship, instead of Dan turning up when he could, secretive texting or emailing, hurried, passionate, mind-blowing sex at one in the morning when he would drop by unannounced on the way back from the pub, wake her up, shag her senseless and then go back home – to what, Laura didn’t know. Every time they tried to talk, something else would get in the way. Dan would tell her a funny story, or kiss her neck, or have to leave because Amy was calling. They’d tried not seeing each other, but the truth was it was so easy to have this relationship, it was so full of pleasure and excitement that, two months after they’d first got together, nothing had really changed. Dan was still with Amy, trying to sort it out or break it off gently. And Laura – Laura was so wildly happy with the whole thing she would no more have irrevocably ended it than she would have moved south of the river.

When she looked at the facts of the relationship, the bare facts, only then did she get depressed. He was still with his girlfriend. And whilst he and Laura got on really well, she also had to admit that what they spent most of their time doing was not having a laugh and enjoying each other’s company but – having sex. And god, the sex was great, that was part of the problem – it had obscured the actual facts of the relationship, or whatever it was, for some time now.

On New Year’s Eve, Laura and Paddy had gone round to the newly married couple’s house for a party, along with lots of other people, but Dan wasn’t there. He was on holiday with Amy, in Prague. Laura had stood on Jo and Chris’s balcony along with Paddy and watched the fireworks over London. It was a clear night, sharp and cold, and for once the fireworks from the Thames were visible. They fizzed in the distance, tiny and indistinct, and around them, across the rest of London, streets and parks and houses were lit up by similar flashes and bangs, stretching as far as they could see. Simon had been there next to her, and as he hugged her tightly, he asked,

‘So, sis. What’s your New Year’s resolution, then? Tell me.’

‘Ha,’ said Laura despairingly. She gave him a squeeze back. ‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’

‘Oh, really,’ said Simon, not actually listening as his eye had fallen upon an attractive brunette in the corner of the room. ‘Love life?’

‘Yes,’ said Laura honestly.

Simon looked at her briefly. ‘Who is it this time, then?’ he asked.

Laura resented the tone in his voice. ‘It’s – not like that.’

‘Oh,’ said Simon, not believing her for a second. ‘Right,’ he added vaguely. ‘You should do something about it.’

‘Thanks,’ said Laura. ‘I am.’

Simon smiled, ‘Really?’

She nodded.

‘Well, good luck then,’ he said. ‘Who is it this time? Someone at work? Ken Livingstone?’

‘Go away,’ said Laura. ‘You’re no help.’

‘Well, don’t just stand there,’ Simon said. ‘I mean it. Do something about it,’ and he shrugged his shoulders apologetically, as if admitting this wasn’t helpful, and moved across the room in search of his prey.

Laura watched him go. He was right, though, wasn’t he? She’d been searching for true love for as long as she could remember. This year, it was going to happen. She just had to make it happen.

So, shivering on that cold balcony on New Year’s Eve, as Jo and Chris kissed each other, and Paddy danced crazily and inappropriately with a scared-looking cousin of Chris’s, and Simon charmed the pants – literally – off the brunette, Laura clenched her fist, and went to bed that night with a new iron resolve. Three weeks after her ‘thing’ with Dan had begun, but months after she had realised that he was the one for her, she had to do something about it. Even now, nearly two months later, she remembered it clearly. It kept coming back into her head like a drumbeat.

She had to know, she had to sort this thing out, because somewhere in her lovesick, crazy brain was a small voice telling her that this wasn’t how normal people behaved, fell in love and that small voice had been getting louder and louder since before Christmas until now, two months afterwards, it was like a foghorn in her ear. She and Dan had to take the next step. Well, Dan had to take the next step and finish with Amy, then Laura and Dan had to take the step after that, which was to work out if they could be together.

So they would go to Kenwood House on this cold February Saturday, with the hot chocolate/gloves/yew trees, and during that time they would talk, and Laura would explain, calmly and clearly, that Dan had to sort his situation out, otherwise they couldn’t be together any more.

‘Talk,’ Dan said. ‘Yes, talk.’ He looked at her, their fingers still entwined. Laura smiled at him, took the toast out of his mouth, put the tray down on the floor, reached for him, and they crawled back under the duvet, muffling their laughter, and then, a while later, their moans as they came together again and any further discussion was put aside for the moment.

An hour later, Laura emerged from her room, carrying the teapot, and padded into the kitchen in her bare feet. Paddy was sitting at the little table by the French window, gazing out at the view. Their flat was in a slightly cramped, dodgy Victorian mansion block, and had interesting design features – the French window, for example, opened not onto a charming balcony with pots of geraniums and basil, but a sheer drop down four floors. The boiler was in Paddy’s bedroom, and the sitting room had three electricity sockets, but all right next to each other, by the door, nowhere helpful like underneath the bay window where the television was. It was Paddy’s flat, bought for him with some help from his elderly parents, since he was a teacher at a school nearby and earned in a year what most bankers earn in a month. He and Laura were very happy there, though the water frequently turned itself off, the windows rattled, and the lino was curling because they had laid it themselves. Added to which Paddy had a mania for collecting interesting things from around the world, and so the flat was stuffed with a) painted gypsy floral watering cans, buckets, etc., b) elephants made of wicker he’d picked up travelling through Africa, and c) comic books.

Paddy didn’t look up as Laura came into the kitchen, humming to herself. ‘Morning,’ she said brightly. ‘How are you today, love?’

‘Fine,’ muttered Paddy bitterly. ‘Oh, just fine.’

‘Oh, right,’ said Laura, nonplussed. ‘Er, are you, though?’

‘Oh, don’t worry about me,’ Paddy told her. ‘I’ll survive,’ he spluttered into his tea. He stared moodily out of the window. Since he spent quite a lot of his leisure time doing this, Laura ignored him and put the mugs down on the counter.

‘What are you eating?’ she asked curiously.

‘I made scrambled eggs with tomatoes,’ said Paddy shortly. He gestured to the plate, which looked like pink brains. Paddy was an enthusiastic but disconcerting chef.

‘Oh,’ Laura lied. ‘It looks nice.’

She ran the mugs under the tap.

‘It’s not enough that Mia hasn’t answered any of my texts,’ Paddy said, picking up the thread after a few moments’ silence. Laura obediently swivelled round to listen. ‘I’ve texted her four times, why hasn’t she replied? Oh no. I have to sit in solitary silence, with CD:UK my only companion, and listen to my flatmate – who I’ve known since she was five – screaming with pleasure as some git rogers her senseless at eleven a.m. for about the fifteenth time that morning.’

Laura bit her lip to stop herself grinning. ‘Sorry.’ She went over and patted him on the shoulder. ‘I’ll make you some tea. Why don’t we all go into the sitting room and have some tea?’

‘No, thanks a bundle,’ said Paddy, pulling his tattered paisley dressing gown about him with an attempt at dignity. ‘I prefer to watch Saturday Kitchen on my own, thanks very much, not squashed up on the sofa with you and Mr Playaway whilst he tries to molest you under my very nose.’

‘OK, OK,’ said Laura. This was going to be tricky. Of course, no one knew about her and Dan – not yet anyway. She hadn’t even told Jo. But she’d had to tell Paddy because Dan always came to her place. She hated making him party to it and thereby making him lie. It wasn’t for long, and so far he’d been great, but…She filled the kettle and affected a tone of nonchalance. ‘Er…any plans for today?’

Paddy looked up suspiciously. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘You know I have. We’re going out to lunch with Simon.’

‘Simon?’ Laura said in a tone of blankness. She pulled a mug off one of the hooks above the sink and examined it. ‘Urgh, this is dirty.’

‘Your brother Simon, who’s about to go to Peru for four months.’

Laura winced. Simon worked for a charity. He was taking time off from work to travel to Peru, volunteering for another charity.

Paddy went on, ‘And then you know perfectly well we’re going round to Jo’s because Chris is away and she wants a hand with painting the kitchen.’ He glared at her. ‘Oh my god, you’re piking. I can’t believe it.’

‘What?’ said Laura. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘You lying bitch,’ said Paddy. ‘Go back in that bedroom, ease those chafed thighs onto the bed and tell Dan you’re not spending the day with him or whatever it is he’s suggested you do. You’re coming out to lunch.’

‘Honestly, Paddy, I had no idea,’ Laura pleaded with him, aware how weak she sounded. ‘Sure, Jo mentioned going round, but it was ages ago – I didn’t think it was a proper plan…no one emailed me about it this week – I thought it was a casual arrangement.’

‘Casual arrangement?’ Paddy repeated.

‘Yep,’ Laura said. ‘And lunch – hey, you’ll have a much better time without me there. You never see Simon on his own, you can really catch up. And stuff.’

Paddy looked at her, and Laura realised the atmosphere in the kitchen was no longer one of grumpy, amused sniping.

‘No, Laura,’ he said quietly. ‘That – that thing you’ve got next door with Dan. That’s a casual arrangement.’

‘No it’s not,’ said Laura in a small voice.

‘Oh god, you stupid girl,’ Paddy slapped his hand to his cheek. ‘I don’t care. Just don’t try and lie to me. It’s not a big deal, Laura, honestly. But –’ he held up his hand as Laura made to speak ‘– don’t lie to me. You know it was arranged ages ago. You, of all people.’

‘What do you mean?’ said Laura, feeling her chest tighten.

‘I mean, I’ve always thought you were a good person, someone I could trust, someone I could rely on. Thick and thin, and all that.’

‘Oh for god’s sake, Paddy,’ Laura said, her face reddening, feeling cross all of a sudden. ‘That’s such crap. It’s only lunch, get over it! I am – I am a good person. Dan – I – you know how I feel about him, don’t do this.’ The kitchen tap was encrusted with limescale and she wrenched it round to turn it on, running her finger around one of the mugs as she thought of what to say next.

Paddy turned his back on her and looked out of the window, as if he was counting to five. Then he turned around again.

‘Hey, love,’ he said in a gentle voice. ‘I know how you feel about him. But it’s never going to happen. He’s never going to leave Amy. Can’t you see that? He’s a wanker, and he’s using you.’

‘How dare you say that,’ Laura retorted, her voice rising. She turned the tap off. ‘How dare you! That’s bullshit. He’s not like that, it’s not like that. It’s just…complicated. He can’t just dump her, I don’t want him to do that. We have to wait before we can be together…we…oh.’

She slumped down into a chair, tears in her eyes. The lino squeaked under her feet. ‘It sounds so fucking clichéd,’ she whispered. ‘I’m so stupid.’

‘You’re really not, darling,’ Paddy said, patting her hand across the table. ‘You’re just mad about him, and what’s wrong with that, eh? You’ve got to…you’ve got to sort it out, that’s all. You know what you’re like.’

Laura stood up again and went over to make the tea. ‘I have to, I know,’ she said. ‘It’s just. It’s just – I can’t think of anyone I’m ever going to like more than I like him.’ Hot tears ran down her cheeks and she rubbed her eyes, feeling like a little girl in the playground.

It was true, that was the awful thing. She knew all this, she thought she was a sensible girl. But some kind of love had taken hold of her and refused to let her go, and it wasn’t a happy, easy, joyful thing, it had her in a vice-like grip.

She looked up at Paddy and smiled, trying to be brave. His face contorted with sympathy, and he walked over to where she stood and gave her a big hug. ‘Do something about it, darling,’ he said, his voice muffled against Laura’s shoulder. ‘Give him an ultimatum. Or give yourself an ultimatum. Get pregnant. No –’ He stood back and shook her. ‘Forget I said that. Really, don’t get pregnant.’

‘I won’t,’ Laura said, touched, for Paddy really did look alarmed. ‘Don’t be stupid.’ She picked up the mugs. ‘I’ll do something about it, honestly.’

‘Deadline. You need a deadline,’ Paddy said, sitting back down and picking up the newspaper, which was lying on the table. ‘Ooh, travel. Book a holiday,’ he said casually, throwing the travel section at her. It flapped through the air and Laura caught it, scrunching it in her hand, and wedging it under her arm. ‘Book a holiday to somewhere fantastic and then you have to go,’ Paddy suggested. ‘You know, in a few months’ time, when everything’s sorted out. God, I’m brilliant. As you once were, young woman. Go off and shag that worthless young man in there. I’ll make your excuses to Jo, but she’s not going to be happy. You know she’s not, you blew her out last week.’

It was true. Laura had arranged to go to Borough Market with Jo, but something else had come up, a Dan-shaped something else.

‘It’s her birthday in a couple of weeks. I’ll make it up to her then,’ Laura said gratefully.

‘Honestly. The things I do,’ Paddy murmured.

‘Thanks, Paddy,’ Laura said. She paused, as if she might say something else, gazing at the back of his head as Paddy picked up his tea and turned a page of the newspaper. ‘Thanks a lot.

I…well.’

A watery ray of pale sunshine was shining weakly in through the window. Laura turned and left, her head bowed in thought.

‘I’ve cancelled lunch,’ she announced as she came back into her room.

Dan sat up in bed and spread his arms wide. ‘Great, great news, my gorgeous darling girl,’ he said. His hands slid inside her ratty old dressing gown, slipped open the tie, and he pulled her towards him. Laura laughed.

‘Let me put the pot down,’ she said, as he started kissing her. She crouched down, put the paper and the teapot on the floor, stood up again, and said, as Dan flung the duvet to one side, ‘So, what do you want to do today?’

‘You,’ Dan said, jumping on her with the kind of alacrity usually reserved for sailors on shore-leave. ‘God, I could be with you all day, you are so fucking gorgeous. Mm.’

‘No,’ Laura said, laughing, as he pulled off her dressing gown. ‘I mean later. I’ve cancelled lunch. We could go out, you know. Maybe…er, Kenwood House for…er, hot chocolate.’

Dan didn’t answer, but carried on doing what he was doing. Laura sighed, and pushed him away. ‘Dan, listen.’

‘Yes, yes,’ Dan said. ‘Hot chocolate.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I mean we go out to get hot chocolate, at Kenwood.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Dan asked, looking down at her. ‘Why do you want to go and get hot chocolate at Kenwood? Is there a festival there or something?’

‘No,’ Laura explained. ‘I mean – what shall we do today, then? We should do something. Go out, you know, make the most of it. The sun’s just come out.’

Dan cupped her breast in his hand and bent over to kiss her again. ‘I can’t, darling,’ he said. ‘We can’t. Someone might see us. Imagine if they did.’ He looked up, his expression anguished. ‘I’m sorry. This is crap.’

‘But,’ Laura said, trying to be patient, ‘who are we going to bump into amongst the yew trees at Kenwood?’

‘The what?’ Dan asked. Laura watched him intently. ‘No, we just can’t. We should…we have to stay here. Not for much longer, I promise. But things might be tricky for the next couple of months.’

‘Why?’ said Laura, not understanding, and reluctantly waving goodbye to her winter wonderland dream of laughing and joking in a Missoni print cape as she and Dan carelessly drank hot chocolate and held hands amidst the frosty trees.

‘I mean,’ said Dan, ‘if I’m going to split up with Amy, you and I won’t be able to see each other whilst it’s going on. I mean on our own, not the usual in the pub with everyone else there. Right?’

‘Oh right,’ said Laura, not daring to hope he was saying what he was saying. ‘So…’

‘So,’ said Dan, bending over her nipple and kissing it gently, ‘this might be the last time we get to do this for a long time. So – we should – make the most of it…’

‘Yes,’ gasped Laura suddenly, understanding him, and pulling him down. ‘Yes…I see…’

As Dan moved down her body, Laura closed her eyes, and the last thing she saw was the crumpled cover of the Guardian’s travel section. ‘Road Trip: Florida’s Hidden Treasures’, the front page declaimed. A road trip, she thought, and abandoned herself to something more immediate.