Читать книгу A Hopeless Romantic - Harriet Evans - Страница 16

Early evening, and the heat of the day hung over the city. It was inescapable, both in Laura’s flat, which was airless and oppressive, and out on the street where it was dirty and badtempered. The city smelt, not of the delicious smells of summer in London, mown grass and barbecues and cigarette smoke and petrol, heat rising from the ground. No, tonight, on this unbearably hot Friday night, it smelt of sweat, stale beer, a whiff of dustbins and people. Too many people.

Laura stood against the upholstered pad by the stairs of the bus as it lurched its way from the cooler, leafier roads of North London down into the heart of the city. The bus was sweltering, crowded, uncomfortable, and she grew angrier and crosser as it jolted down Oxford Street.

She was late to meet Dan. Even though she’d had nothing to do all day, even though no one knew she wasn’t in work, not even Paddy. No one had called, no one had noticed her absence from email or the phone. She had sat in the flat all day, talking to no one, eating nothing, smoking a lot and thinking about this evening with an increasing sense of dread. There was no one she could talk to, anyway. No one who knew how badly she’d fucked up, and she wanted it to stay that way. And no one who knew about her and Dan – apart from Paddy. Throughout the day Laura’s mind swam back to the scene in the sitting room late the previous night. She had to make it up to Paddy somehow. And Jo. Yes, Jo too. She had enough on her plate at the moment, though. No, she’d sort this situation out first, and if it worked out – a big if, but she knew it would, it had to this time – then at least, no matter what else happened, she and Dan Floyd would finally be able to tell everyone they were in love, they were a couple, and Amy was history. If she could only get off this horrible bus. Laura ran her hand over the back of her neck. Her hair was twisted up in a clip, but her neck still felt sweaty. She leant against the wall, and the bus lurched forward, jolting her into a hot flush again.

‘Why the hell do they heat these things in summer?’ she muttered, then realised the perfectly normal nice girl next to her had moved away, clearly thinking she was one of those crazy bus people who feel the need to carry on conversations with themselves. The heat of the walls seemed to burn the backs of her legs, and the prickly synthetic upholstery she leant against made her want to itch all over. All the windows were open – tiny, mean slivers one had to pull down with a bang. But no fresh air came in and there was no breeze to cool her down.

Laura sighed. She shut her eyes and tried to pretend. It was two weeks’ time. She was in Florida somewhere, on a beach with Dan, wearing a kaftan and her cool new pink jewelled flip-flops. The heat was unbearable, but it was OK, she could go inside to the air-conditioned terrace bar and get a drink with lots of straws and sparklers in it. And lie on the cool linen cushions, feeling the material crisp and crunchy beneath her back. She and Dan were walking along the beach hand in hand. It was night, and the sound of music and chatter could be heard in the near distance. Dan stopped, pulled her to him, and said, ‘Darling, I love you – will you –’

‘Get out of my fucking way!’ someone behind her finished, and Laura turned, alarmed, and realised she was standing in front of the exit. A woman pushed past her, shoving Laura out of the way, and a steady stream of people followed her, all tutting at Laura.

Thankfully, the next stop was hers. She swung her bag over her shoulder, avoiding the eyes of her fellow passengers, and hopped off the bus. ‘That idiot girl there,’ someone said as she left.

Laura walked briskly down the street, her heart racing, and turned off into Rathbone Place. Halfway down she slowed and leant briefly against some railings. This was all wrong, she thought to herself. She was supposed to get there calm and collected, she was going to be strong and cool (but yet devastatingly attractive), not some dishevelled sweaty heap, who arrived late for a summit meeting with her quasi-boyfriend having been suspended from her job the previous day. No, she was not that person. Not any more. She clenched her fists, stood up, and marched on her way, down the dark, grey street, pleasantly cool, away from the heat in the evening shade.

The Newman Pie Rooms was above a pub, the Newman Arms, tucked away off Oxford Street. It was one room, decked out in old-man’s-pub traditional style, with a few tables and a board on the wall announcing what pies were on offer that particular day. It was one of Laura’s favourite places – Dan had taken her there on one of their first evenings out together. It was a great hidden secret, and, more to the point, certainly not the kind of place you’d ever catch Amy in.

Laura’s legs shook slightly as she climbed the rickety twisted stairs, but she reminded herself once again that this choice of location for their summit meeting must be a good thing. Dan was reading the paper, but as he caught sight of her he leapt to his feet, folded it up and shoved it into his back pocket. He smiled at her, his eyes huge, drew her into his arms, kissed her and hugged her, tightly, for a long time.

‘Hello babe,’ he said, resting his forehead against hers. ‘How are you?’ He smoothed the hair away from her face, and tucked it behind her ear.

‘I’m fine,’ Laura replied, smiling back at him. She wound her arms round his neck. ‘I’m OK. Yeah, fine.’

‘Good,’ said Dan, looking over her shoulder. ‘Sorry…no, it’s fine. So you’re really OK? I missed you, baby. I really missed you.’ He pulled her down onto the bench next to him, and casually put her hand over his crotch.

Laura smiled at his cheek, still the same Dan as ever, and looked at the menu board. ‘Yep, I’m really OK,’ she said, pretending to ignore him, but moving a little closer.

The couple at the next table looked at her distastefully.

‘Perhaps I should move there,’ said Laura, pointing at the chair opposite.

‘No,’ Dan said, and kissed her ear gently. He whispered, ‘Please, I want you near me. Who knows when it might be next?’

‘Well,’ said Laura weakly, ‘that’s what we need to talk about, kind of, isn’t it?’

Dan was looking at the menu board this time and didn’t answer. He snaked his arm around Laura, and gently cupped one of her breasts. Laura wriggled with pleasure and nerves. This wasn’t going the way she’d anticipated. She leant into him, gave into it.

‘I missed you too.’

‘Hm?’ Dan said. ‘I’m having the lamb and mint pie, what about you?’

Food. A day spent at home mulling over her problems and failing to come up with solutions had not calmed Laura down one jot. It was twenty-eight degrees outside, more inside, and she was feeling fairly emotionally fraught. She had eaten very little that day, and had actually been sick before she came out. A lamb and mint pie was not really what she was in the mood for.

‘Um,’ she began, knotting and unknotting her hands in her lap. ‘I’m not that hungry, you know. I feel a bit funny. I might just have a salad.’

‘Really?’ Dan looked at her as if she was insane. ‘You’re OK, aren’t you?’

‘Yes…’ Laura said, beginning to be slightly irritated that the question kept being asked yet not followed through. She steeled herself and put her hand on Dan’s wrist. ‘Look at me.’

He turned to face her.

‘I am fine,’ she said. ‘I’m really fine, in fact. But we need to talk. There’s…things we need to discuss. Tonight.’

Dan looked slightly alarmed.

‘Right. Why aren’t you hungry?’ he said after a pause.

Bemused, Laura attempted to stick to the point she was trying to muddle her way through to, without actually saying, ‘I was sick earlier today because I’ve been suspended from work, and this is driving me up the wall.’

‘I’m not…it’s just…’ She stumbled a bit, and Dan looked even more apprehensive.

‘What?’ he said. ‘Laura, what’s wrong?’

‘Nothing. Well, I was a bit sick today, but that’s normal…nothing. Look…’

Dan’s reaction to this news was unexpected. His jaw dropped and he gaped at her, then gasped several times as if short of breath.

‘You were sick?’ he said. ‘Why?’

Laura wanted to be touched by his concern, but he was looking genuinely horrified. She found it a little off-putting. How could she explain everything to him? Why couldn’t he understand?

‘I…well. I haven’t been feeling too good. Lately.’

‘Are you…ill?’ Dan said, his jaw muscles clenching. ‘Have you been off work?’

‘Well…actually, I have,’ Laura said. ‘Something’s happened. That’s what…’ she swallowed. ‘Things are going to be difficult over the next couple of months, Dan,’ she said softly. ‘That’s why I have to know what’s going on with us. I have to know, I can’t do it any more.’

She sat back in her seat, shaking with adrenalin, and reached out to take his hand, but Dan put his head in his hands and was silent. Laura watched him, a growing sense of unease welling within her.

‘Fuck…’ Dan said eventually. ‘Oh fuck.’ He looked up again, and ran his eyes up and down her body. ‘Just tell me. Tell me the truth. You’re…fuck, you’re pregnant, aren’t you?’

A waitress had materialised beside them during this sentence. She let out an involuntary gasp.

‘Shall I come back?’ she said, glancing from one to the other and looking ultra-curious.

‘No,’ said Laura, slightly maliciously, though it was only afterwards she recognised the emotion for what it was. Dan was sitting stock still, staring into space. ‘Fuck,’ he repeated.

‘I think we’re ready to go here,’ Laura said calmly. ‘Can I just have the Greek salad, please? And Dan – you want the lamb and mint pie, don’t you?’ No response was forthcoming, so she nodded to the waitress. ‘Yes, he’ll have that, and some broccoli, too, please.’

‘Another beer?’ said the waitress, gesturing to Dan’s pint.

‘I think so,’ said Laura briskly, ‘and can I have a bottle of house white, too, please?’

‘One bottle?’ said the waitress incredulously. ‘For you?’

‘Yes, please,’ said Laura airily. ‘I’ve got a bit of a wine head on, you see. When you need a drink, you just need a drink, don’t you!’

‘Hm,’ said the waitress, looking appalled, and she strode off towards the bar, beckoning the barman over towards her and instantly engaging him in whispered conversation, which involved staring blatantly at the happy couple and the rolling of eyes.

Dan awoke from his semi-coma with a start. He stared at Laura, and rubbed his chin. Laura stared back at him, and her heart melted again. He was so gorgeous, with the day or two’s growth of beard, the tanned, chiselled face. Their children would be beautiful, if they took after their father, there was no doubting that. However…

‘How…when?’ said Dan hoarsely. ‘Not you…Fuck, this is…Laura, you swore you were on the pill. Have you told…How? When? Why did you…’

Laura looked at his face again. The questions, the accusations, the problems ahead. And she was glad, glad it wasn’t true, glad she wasn’t giving Dan this news.

She put her finger on his lips. ‘Why the fuck would you think that?’ she said, half-laughing.

Dan didn’t smile. He looked even worse, if anything.

‘You stupid man,’ she said, laughing a little as the waitress returned with the drinks. ‘I’m not pregnant, did I ever say I was?’

‘She’s…not…’ the waitress hissed over their heads, gesturing towards the barman at both of them, her finger waving wildly and shaking her head.

‘You’re not?’ Dan said. ‘Really?’

‘Really,’ said Laura dryly.

Dan licked his upper lip, which was dewy with sweat, and said hoarsely, ‘Thank god for that.’ He slumped back into his seat and took his drink, almost sullenly. ‘Thank god. Sorry, Laura love, but you had me there for a moment. The timing…not good.’

‘I didn’t say…’ Laura began, then broke off. She patted his arm. ‘Calm down, Dan. I wouldn’t do that, I’m not stupid.’

Dan took a huge swig of his drink. ‘No, you’re not,’ he said simply. ‘That’s one of the things I’ve always loved best about you, you know.’

‘Me?’ Laura said, taken aback. ‘Really?’

‘Yeah,’ Dan said, fiddling with a beer mat. ‘You know. You’re so…just smart. You know? You make things better. You’re organised. You do that job, you know. Help all those kids, give them a better start and shit. And the way you organise things, remember everyone’s birthdays, all that stuff. It’s…it’s…’

He put his pint down and turned to her, and Laura was astounded to see he had tears in his eyes.

‘It’s…it’s just always better when you’re in the room.’

Laura had often wondered, since the fifth day of bumping into each other at the station and chatting away till they missed two trains, when Dan had said, ‘This is ridiculous. Tomorrow let’s meet fifteen minutes earlier. We can have a coffee. Yes?’ and she had trotted down onto the tube platform to find him waiting for her, a smile of welcome on his face, holding a coffee he’d bought from the stall in his hand for her, what exactly it was about her that he apparently liked so much – so much that he was willing to risk such a lot for her, for himself. And now she knew. She was dependable, she was nice. She was organised. She got the job done. A set of more prosaic, no, boring, qualities, she thought, it would be difficult to find, and had she been displaying any of those qualities lately? No, absolutely not.

She swallowed, trying to look on the bright side, and immediately an image flashed into her head of Amy, stunning, slim Amy, reclining at home, flicking through a magazine, gingerly blowing nail varnish dry on one tiny fingernail. Wearing some exquisite lace and silk nightgown, specifically for lounging around in, probably.

She looked at him, swallowed again, and gripped the side of the table. She knew the moment was coming, inexorably she could feel it creeping towards the conversation, like a marching beat.

‘Thank you,’ she said.

‘I mean it,’ Dan replied. ‘When you’re around…I just feel better. You look after me. The way you…you make breakfast, for instance, you remember I like to put the Marmite on myself.’ He ran his hands through his hair. ‘That sounds crap, but you know what I mean. You listen to me if I’ve had a bad day.’

And how many times have you ever asked me about my day? Laura suddenly thought. It was a straightforward question, but suddenly she couldn’t think why she hadn’t thought it before, six, seven months before. How many times? She wanted him to see her as the unattainable, the alluring woman of mystery, who drove him to the edge of distraction, not…not this. Pleasant. Kind. Ugh.

‘…And you…I don’t know. You care about me, I can tell you stuff. And Amy – she never…well, to be honest, I just think that’s why we don’t…’ He stopped suddenly.

‘She never what?’ Laura said sharply.

‘Well, she’s never that interested,’ Dan said, almost in a rush. ‘She’s just completely self-obsessed. You know what she’s like. This bag. That dress. How expensive is this or that because I can only buy it if it’s ridiculously overpriced.’

His tone was angry, almost vicious. He rubbed his hands over his eyes, like a little child.

‘Sorry,’ he said, and turned to her. ‘I’m just really tired, that’s all.’

He stared at her, almost hungrily. ‘Oh, Laura. I know we need to talk, but…can’t we just leave? Go back to yours? You know…’

‘No!’ said Laura, much more loudly than she’d meant to, and Dan jumped, as did the middle-aged American couple at the table next to them.

‘Right, then,’ Dan said, smiling at the couple, who obviously thought Dan and Laura were mad. He handed them a bar towel to mop up the beer that the husband had spilt, and gave them a charming smile. Laura did too, and found herself thinking, What a great couple we make. ‘No!’ she said again, more to herself, and the wife jumped again.

Dan stared at her and said, slightly impatiently, ‘Laura, what’s going on with you? You’re behaving like a schoolgirl who’s afraid she’ll be caught for bunking off or something, darling. What’s up?’

Laura took a deep breath. ‘What’s going on?’ she said, holding her nerve. ‘With us. I want…er…I want some answers.’

‘Well,’ Dan said. He ran his hands through his hair again. ‘Darling, I’ve told you. Well…god, you know how I feel about you…’

‘It’s not enough,’ Laura said gently. ‘It’s not enough any more. Dan, we’re going on holiday in two weeks’ time, for god’s sake! And you’re supposed to be leaving Amy before that. You – you know how I feel about you. This has been going on for – how long is it now, seven months? – and we’re nowhere nearer being together than we were at the beginning of it. It’s not enough. We have to sort out – sort it out. I’m – I’m in love with you. It’s killing me, this is. We have to sort it out. Otherwise…’

Laura trailed off. She didn’t know what the otherwise was, or at least it was too terrifying for her to come out with. She looked around the room slowly, and let her eyes come back to Dan, to see how he was taking this, but her nerve failed her.

‘Otherwise…’ she said softly, and lowered her head again.

Dan held her head in his hands, lifted it up and looked at her. He looked serious, more serious than she’d ever seen him.

‘Laura…’ he said. ‘There’s something I have to tell you. I didn’t want to, but you’re going to know sooner or later. God…I can’t believe I’m doing this to you.’

‘Wait a minute,’ Laura said.

‘No, let me finish,’ Dan cut in. His hands were clammy against her cheeks. ‘I didn’t want to tell you tonight, I just wanted to see you, for us to have a nice evening, one last night.’

Laura’s stomach clenched and she felt sick again.

‘What?’ she said quietly. ‘Dan, what is it?’

‘Amy’s pregnant, Laura.’

Dan released his hands, and Laura could feel the sweat on the sides of her face. He was quite sweaty in general, she thought, as if watching this scene idly from another room, another life.

‘Laura, are you listening?’ Dan said sharply.

‘Yes…’ Laura cleared her throat. ‘You…’

Her eyes filled with tears, and one ran down her cheek. She gave a tiny cough, almost a gasp, and sat up straight. No, she wouldn’t cry. She would not cry.

‘Laura…I wanted to tell you, I’ve been trying to…’

‘How pregnant?’ Laura said calmly. ‘When’s it due? It’s yours, I presume?’

‘Yes, of course,’ Dan said. ‘Of course it’s mine.’ He wiped his hair off his forehead. ‘It’s…it’s due in January.’

‘Three months,’ Laura said after a moment, calmer still. ‘She’s three months’ pregnant. How long have you known?’

‘About a month. Laura, I’ve been trying to find a way of telling you. I couldn’t…’ Dan punched his fist into his thigh, quietly. ‘I – fuck. Look, it’s a mistake, she did it on purpose, I – I don’t know what to do, but I’ve got to – we’re going to make a go of it, I have to. Of course I have to.’

Amy. Of course it wasn’t a mistake, Laura thought. Amy was as likely to accidentally get pregnant as hippogriffs and unicorns were to be found wandering in Hyde Park. She had planned this down to the last letter and Dan, Dan – oh god, Dan was the sacrificial lamb, and she, Laura…she had to leave. She had to leave, or else break down completely.

Dan was wringing his hands, quite literally clutching them in an agony of inaction. He touched her arm. ‘Laura,’ he said. ‘I know you must hate me. But believe me, I hate myself more. I can’t – I’ve completely screwed this up, my whole life up, and hers. And yours, and that’s – that’s worst of all, because – oh god…’

He broke off, and buried his head in his elbow.

‘I’m going to go,’ Laura said, and again she had the sensation of watching herself from another room, from afar, and that other person was cheering her on, saying, Well done, girl, you’re doing well.

Dan grabbed her arm as she reached for her bag. ‘Listen, Laura. Listen to me, just one thing before you go. Please.’

Laura turned to face him, and looking at him nearly broke her composure, but she steeled herself.

‘Look, Laura,’ Dan said. ‘I realise…it’s over now, you and me.’

‘Well, I kind of assume so now,’ Laura said, repressing all emotion and taking refuge in heavy sarcasm. She removed his hand from her arm, shaking slightly. ‘It’s one of my rules. Practically the last one left that I haven’t broken, actually.’ She laughed bitterly, feeling the breath catch painfully in her throat as she did. ‘Don’t carry on shagging someone who tells you he’s in love with you and that he’s going to leave his girlfriend, then gets his girlfriend who he was supposed to be dumping six months ago pregnant, and makes you realise the whole fucking thing was a pack of fucking lies.’

She stood up, and pulled her bag slowly up onto her shoulder. ‘Bye, Dan,’ she said. ‘Bye.’

‘It wasn’t a pack of lies,’ Dan said, as she turned to go. ‘If you want to punish me, you’ve got your punishment. I love you. I always will. I never lied to you, Laura.’

He put his hands flat down on the table. The left one had a scar across the back, where he’d sliced it in a powerboat when he was six. Laura looked at it, and thought, I knew that. I know he got that scar in a boating accident when he was six. I don’t know anything else. Nothing at all.

She tried to think of something to say back to him, something grand, something great, something worthy of Carrie Bradshaw or Barbra Streisand in The Way We Were. But there was nothing to say, and the moment wasn’t about that any more. There was nothing for her to do but leave, and as she stood in the frame of the doorway, she half-waved at him, and turned and quietly walked down the stairs again.