Читать книгу A Hopeless Romantic - Harriet Evans - Страница 13

In May, Amy suddenly came out fighting. She started making plans for her thirtieth birthday in September. She let it be known that she wanted to hire a villa in Spain for two weeks, she and Dan, and have various friends fly out at different times, all gathering together on the middle Saturday for a huge party in the garden of the villa, which Dan was going to organise. She was back in the game. She even made an appearance at the pub.

Laura hadn’t seen Amy for about six months. She had become, in her mind, this vast, beauteous Amazonian woman, with tiny stick-thin wrists and a huge expensive handbag and matching shoes. She was dazzlingly beautiful, terrifyingly confident, and she knew something was up with Laura and Dan. In Laura’s nightmares, Amy walked up to Laura and dragged her by the hair out of the pub, pulled all her hair out, then kicked her into the road.

The trouble was, in these nightmares Laura kind of sided with Amy, not with herself. If she’d heard just the facts without knowing the details of it, she would side with Amy. But, she kept telling herself, just a little longer, and then it’d be over. And when she and Dan had been together for twenty-five years and were as happy as ever, no one would remember the slightly murky beginnings of their relationship. It would be lost in the mists of time, and Amy would be off married to a billionaire banker – it wasn’t even as if she and Dan were happy, after all. She was doing her a favour, in the long run.

So when Laura walked into the Cavendish and saw Amy, as tall and beautiful and stick-thin as ever, sitting on the sofa laughing girlishly with Jo, and realised that she was the terrifying Amazonian beauty of her nightmares, and that she, Laura, was still – well, normal, normal height, normal hair, normal everything, it was all she could do not to walk out. Amy gave her a lizard-like, thin-lipped smile, which meant nothing, as Amy pretty much hated all girls, except her own, incredibly similar friends, who were kind of like the Pussycat Dolls mixed with the clique in Mean Girls.

‘Hey,’ said Chris as Laura came over to the bar. ‘There’s your tube buddy, Dan!’

‘Hey, tube buddy,’ said Dan, bending over to kiss Laura. How could he be so nonchalant, Laura wondered, as his hand squeezed her shoulder fleetingly and he kissed her on the cheek. ‘Can I get you a drink?’

‘Oh, a beer thanks, tube buddy!’ said Laura. ‘Hi, Jason. Hey, Chris. How was Morocco?’

‘Haven’t seen you since then, have we? Can’t believe it. It was great,’ said Chris, hugging her. ‘Got some fantastic photos to show you! The girls are over there, go and say hi.’

The girls. Laura went over to where Amy and Jo were sitting. Jo jumped up immediately. ‘Laura, hi!’ she said, her eyes sparkling. ‘God, it’s so good to see you, babe! How long’s it been? How long? This is crap, we mustn’t leave it that long next time.’

‘Hi, Laura!’ said Amy. She looked down at Laura, both actually and metaphorically, thought Laura, and all three sat down again. Woah, what an evening of direness lies ahead of me, she thought. Dan put her beer down on the table and smiled at her. Amy leant back and caught his hand. He smiled mechanically at her, and released himself, walking back over to the bar to rejoin Chris. Laura didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

‘I know we’ve had our problems over the past year,’ Amy confided to Jo and Laura, an hour and a couple of drinks later. ‘But lately, he’s been…so different, I think he’s realised.’

‘Realised what?’ said Jo.

‘Oh, I really hope he’s realised…Gosh, it’s awful saying it out loud, isn’t it?’

‘Oh honey,’ said Jo. She patted her hand. ‘I know…’

Jo was no fan of Amy’s either, but she was a far more tolerant person than Laura. Laura looked at her best friend, the blister of resentment that bubbled inside her building ever more. She was still cross with Jo, who had got back from Morocco and hadn’t rung her – Laura had given in, after a few days’ silence. In the old days, before this started, they knew everything about each other. Of course, Jo had no idea about her and Dan. But Jo hadn’t even tried to have any idea. In Laura’s addled mind, Jo was somehow to blame for not having supernaturally guessed her best friend’s deepest, darkest secret, which she was going to endless lengths to conceal. But Laura thought she should have worked it out, should have known this huge, all-consuming thing that had happened to her. Laura was dying of love, hopelessly entangled, obsessed – couldn’t Jo see that? Was she blind? Or just not the friend Laura thought she was?

‘Well,’ Amy blinked slowly, her huge eyes gazing at Jo with intensity. ‘That, you know, he’ll lose me. I’m going to finish with him if he doesn’t shape up, and I’ve told him that.’

Laura looked round to see if Dan could hear any of this conversation. Chris and his brother were at the bar, talking to Hilary, but she couldn’t see Dan anywhere. She turned back and looked at Amy, and suddenly felt the old hot flush of guilt wash over her. Oh god, this is awful, she thought, through the waves of agony this conversation was inflicting on her, not least of which was a huge dose of shame and mortification at her own behaviour over the last few months.

‘Well, that’s great, Amy,’ said Jo kindly. ‘I hope it works out, if that’s what you want.’

Laura flashed her a look as if to say, We hate Amy, what are you doing? But Jo only glanced at her briefly in return.

‘I really think it will,’ said Amy, smoothing down her hair and smiling. ‘I hope by then…well, I’m going to drop some gentle hints about what I’d like more than anything else for my thirtieth. If you know what I mean!’

‘Great,’ said Jo, taking a sip of her drink. ‘Well, we’ll just have to wait and see!’

‘What?’ Laura asked stupidly, thinking, What does she want? Some new shoes, probably, knowing Amy.

‘Oh Laura…!’ Amy looked at Laura as if she was a little alien, or a Mexican peasant unfamiliar with her ways, and Laura thought again to herself that girls who had been at school together many years ago and weren’t friends should not be allowed to mix socially. It disrupted the natural order of things. She and Amy should be people who blanked each other in the street, not people who had to pretend to be pally and share bowls of olives in a gastropub. This, she told herself, was why she hated Amy, of course. It was nothing to do with the fact she was going out with Dan.

Amy delicately ate an olive, and licked one of her fingers. She smiled at Laura pityingly. ‘An engagement ring, of course.’

A pip from the lemon slice in Laura’s gin and tonic wedged itself in her throat and she nearly choked. ‘Right,’ she gasped, determined not to lose control. ‘Right. Aaah. Aaaaah. Loo. Excuse me,’ and she got up and stumbled outside, to the clear fresh air of the May night. She stood there taking big gulps of air, one hand clutching her throat, the other rubbing her stomach, a habit she had had since she was little. Right indeed. She looked in through the big glass windows of the Cavendish, over to the squashy leather sofas where her friends sat, and wondered how things had come so far, got so out of control, so ridiculous. She looked at Jo, methodically folding up her cardigan, neatly stowing it in her bag, and felt helpless. She felt a million miles away from her best friend, from those she thought she knew.

As if by magic, Dan appeared around the corner. He had been to get some cigarettes. He jumped when he saw Laura standing outside, and she nearly screamed.

‘What the…what are you doing out here?’ Dan said testily.

‘Having a breather,’ Laura replied, suddenly furious at him, especially at his tone. ‘Listening to your girlfriend talking about her thirtieth birthday in September, how she wants us all to fly out to Valencia and watch whilst you propose to her in front of all of us – oh Dan, Dan…’

She started sobbing, great racking, heaving sobs that shook her, and Dan pushed her away from the window and against the shop next door. He put his arms around her, holding her so tightly she thought she might not be able to breathe.

‘Now, listen,’ Dan said, putting a thumb up to her cheek to wipe away a tear. ‘I have been such a shit to you. And to her, but this is about you. I promise you, that is not going to happen. I promise you I’m going to talk to her in the next couple of weeks. This has to end. I can’t be with her any more, I just can’t stand it. And I want to be with you.’ He held her tighter and kissed her. She could feel him growing hard against her leg. ‘I want to be with you, do you understand me?’

‘Yes,’ Laura whispered. ‘So…it’s over with her, then?’

‘Yes,’ Dan said solemnly. ‘Shit. I’m going to have to do something about it now, aren’t I?’

‘Yes, you are,’ Laura said, hiccupping.

‘Good. Now,’ Dan bent down and kissed her again. ‘I’m so sorry I’ve been so useless. It’s not fair on her, or me, and especially not on you. We will be together, I promise.’

‘You really promise?’ Laura said, wanting a final reassurance.

Dan gripped her wrists and pressed himself against her. ‘Shit, Laura, I don’t know what else I can say…’ He looked around, shaking his head. ‘I want you to believe it, I really do, but until I’ve talked to her I can’t…if only there was some way.’

Laura said slowly, ‘How about that holiday? In July? That one we talked about. Florida road trip? Ending up in Miami. Two weeks, just us.’

She looked into his eyes, and could see the glimmer of uncertainty – of something else, what was it? – there. He looked back at her, trying to breach that final gap between them. Laura started to turn away and Dan grabbed her again and said, ‘No, fuck it. Book it. I’m just scared. But I’m being weak and crap. Book it.’

‘Seriously?’ Laura said, trying to stay calm, though a big smile broke out across her face. Dan laughed.

‘Seriously.’ He kissed her again. ‘I mean it.’

He stepped back and the release of his weight on her made Laura feel light-headed. It reminded her of something she and Simon used to do when they were little, stand in a doorframe and press their hands out against the wood for a minute at a time, and then, when they stepped forward their arms would float above their heads, as if of their own accord, weightless, drifting, like feathers in the sky…

He walked back into the pub without looking behind him once, and Laura hung back for a few seconds. This was their usual routine. If someone she knew appeared, she’d just get out her phone and pretend to be texting. She turned towards the door, but as she was pushing it open, someone caught her elbow. She spun round, half with shock, and saw Jo behind her, standing on the pavement. Her face was pinched, her pupils huge.

‘Laura…?’ she said. ‘Laura?’

‘What?’ Laura replied, completely calm. Nearly six months of this had made her a professional. She was certain Jo hadn’t seen anything. She held up her phone. ‘I was just texting someone, reception’s terrible in there.’ She gestured inside.

‘What’s going on?’ Jo said, not reacting.

‘Nothing, what do you mean?’ Laura replied, slightly on edge. There was something about Jo’s usually cheery, open expression that made her nervous.

‘You’re screwing Dan, aren’t you?’

‘What?’ Laura said. ‘What?’ she repeated. ‘I wish. Come on, let’s get back inside.’

‘I saw you,’ said Jo, advancing slowly towards her. ‘I saw him kiss you, I saw you both just now. Laura, Laura!’ The words were tumbling out of her, she looked distraught. ‘What the…what the fuck are you doing? How long has this been going on? Does Amy know?’

‘It’s nothing,’ said Laura, her self-preservation gene kicking in. ‘Completely the wrong end of the stick. You know how matey we’ve become.’

Part of her wanted more than anything else to tell Jo, to confess all, to ask her best friend’s advice. But she couldn’t. She’d chosen it this way, and soon it would all be sorted out. Just a little while longer…if she could just hold her off for a little while longer. Jo would be pleased, she would.

But Jo wasn’t showing much sign of being pleased for her now.

‘I know what I saw,’ she said. ‘Oh Jesus. All this crap about you two being friends on the tube platform, that’s how it started, isn’t it? I knew you were up to something. But…Dan! Laura, I know you’re a screw-up when it comes to relationships, but…not again! What the fuck are you doing?’

‘Whatever I’m doing,’ Laura said, feeling really angry, ‘it’s none of your business, so why don’t you just butt out, OK?’

‘Oho, no,’ Jo said, coming right up to her, her brown eyes enormous in her pale face. ‘It is my business, love. It’s my business when my supposed best friend starts shagging our best man behind everyone’s back, and then sits there in the pub pretending to be all matey-matey with his girlfriend. It’s my business when my best friend lies to me all the time, and I never know where she is, and it turns out that’s because she’s having an affair with one of our best friends. It’s my business when I send you an email saying I’m taking Chris to Morocco for a surprise to cheer him up because of his granddad and you send a long reply going on about how fat you think you are! And you never even call, you don’t remember I’ve even gone!’

‘I didn’t –’ Laura said, putting out her hands.

‘You’re not interested,’ Jo retorted, her eyes filling with tears. Laura was horrified. ‘You’re just not interested in anything but yourself. And normally I wouldn’t care, because you’ve done it before, but like I say – it’s started being my business.’ She took a deep breath. ‘One more thing, Laura. It’s my business when my best friend forgets my fucking birthday and Dan Floyd fucking drops a birthday card round from her that she’s obviously bought at some corner shop when the two of you took a break from shagging each other senseless! You selfish cow! I can’t believe it. Well, that’s the awful thing. Actually, I can.’ She stepped back again, collecting herself. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. Screeching, Italian-style emotion was not Jo’s normal mode of behaviour. She coughed. ‘Yes. I’m sorry.’

‘That’s OK,’ Laura said, shaking her head. ‘Look, Jo –’

‘No, let me finish,’ Jo said politely. ‘Look, Laura. I hate this. I’m sorry, but I always end up having this conversation with you! You’re always doing this. Some guy, you think he’s totally right for you, and you can’t see what everyone else can see, because you’re off in Laura Land making up some fantasy about it.’

‘Shut up,’ said Laura. She was furious. ‘It’s not how you think. You don’t understand. It’s complicated.’

‘Listen to yourself,’ Jo said. She pulled her handbag over her shoulder and folded her arms. ‘You sound like every cliché ever. You’re not Julie Andrews, Laura! And Dan’s not fucking Captain von Trapp! Don’t you ever learn? Don’t, don’t treat me like I’m stupid! God, Laura, what – what’s going to happen?’

‘Don’t worry,’ Laura said urgently. ‘Look, Jo, I know it looks bad, but it’s really not. We’re in love. He loves me and I love him. He’s leaving Amy, in about two weeks, he’s just got to sort some stuff out. We’re going on holiday. To Miami.’

There was nothing she could say to convince Jo, and she didn’t even want to try that much. She didn’t know what was going to happen or even what to do. So she just said, ‘Look, let’s go inside. Don’t tell anyone, will you?’

Jo stared at her. ‘Of course I won’t,’ she said eventually.

‘Not even Chris,’ Laura said anxiously. ‘He really mustn’t know, no one can know, Dan’s really paranoid about it.’

‘I’m sure he is,’ said Jo. She opened the door. ‘Fine, then. We won’t talk about it.’

‘Fine,’ Laura echoed.

Amy was standing at the wide bar next to Dan, flinging her hair over her shoulder. She looked up as Jo and Laura walked in, both silent.

‘Danny’s getting some more drinks, girlies,’ she called. ‘Laura, Jo, what do you want?’

Jo didn’t answer, she went over to Chris, bent over and whispered in his ear. Chris immediately got up.

‘Actually,’ Jo said, ‘Chris and I have to go, got to shoot off. Really sorry. See you all soon,’ she finished.

‘Yeah, bye,’ Chris called out.

No one else seemed to notice this remarkably smart exit except Laura, who stood at the bar feeling sick.

‘OK?’ Dan said, nudging her absent-mindedly, his arm still round Amy’s waist. ‘Do you want another drink?’

‘I’m fine,’ said Laura. ‘I’m fine.’

Laura didn’t talk to Jo about their conversation outside the Cavendish. In fact, they didn’t really talk at all after that night. Over the next few weeks they met with the others, sat next to each other, had funny conversations, but the intimacy of their friendship vanished overnight. Laura didn’t worry about it – well, she did, but she knew she could put it right at some point.

She kept telling herself she shouldn’t feel guilty. Jo had totally overreacted, and, in fact, had been completely horrible, when she should have at least tried to understand. No, Jo was making the whole thing into some great big bitchy slanging match because Laura had forgotten her birthday, for Christ’s sake! It was pathetic, that’s what it was, and with things the way they were she didn’t need anyone else being negative or unhelpful. So what if she missed her, if her hand went to the phone several times to call her or text her. So what if one night on the sofa with Paddy, Dirty Dancing came on and Laura was ashamed to find herself almost crying, because it was her and Jo’s favourite film, and they usually had to talk to each other the whole way through, saying the lines together in unison. Sure, Jo was her ‘best friend’, but what did that really mean these days? Especially now she was shacked up with Chris, and hardly had time for Laura anyway, going off to Morocco and places without even telling her. It was fine, Laura told herself. She’d been a grown-up when Jo had got together with Chris. Jo just needed to calm down about her and Dan, and see what it was, that she loved him with all her heart. And then she’d be OK. There would be loads of time to patch things up afterwards, when she and Dan were properly together.

So when she should have been writing her yearly review for Rachel, Laura was booking the Miami holiday online. She extended her credit-card limit, then she took out a loan, not wanting to ask Dan for money. She spent the day sorting out cars and flights and hotels, emailing Dan to get his opinion, waiting in desperation for his replies, soothed and cheered when he would sign off ‘I can’t wait, I can’t wait’, miserable when he didn’t reply. And so it continued, the ringing, the texting, the secrecy, the desperate late-night arrangements that left her exhilarated, terrified, confused, happy, addicted. The holiday became their secret focus, and as the days lengthened and as May shifted into June, Laura didn’t ask what was happening with Amy. They were going in July; she had put the – hefty – deposit down, that was all she needed to know. The itinerary was in her desk, along with the file of emails from Florida hotels and carhire firms.

And then one day, without warning, the axe fell.