Читать книгу Would Like to Meet - Polly James, Polly James - Страница 12

By the time I wake up from another very uncougar-like nap on the sofa, Dan and Joel are both in the living room, though they’re not talking to each other. Joel’s too busy yelling abuse at a faceless stranger who’s annoyed him by killing him when he wasn’t looking. (Young guys are so rude to each other when playing Call of Duty online, I’m sure it’s a major factor in the lack of world peace.)

I pull a disapproving face, then tell Joel to shove up and make room for me on the sofa.

“Keep quiet, Mum,” he says. “I’ve already messed up once, thanks to Dad.”

“I had the temerity to ask him what he fancied for dinner,” says Dan, before he stands up and moves towards the door. He can’t bear to be in the same room as me for more than five minutes at the moment.

“Hang on a sec, Dan,” I say. “I thought we were going to speak to Joel together.”

“But –” says Dan, as Joel throws the controller onto the floor and sighs as if the world is ending. Which I suppose it’s about to, in a way.

“What?” says Joel. “This had better be important.”

I don’t know whether it is, or isn’t, actually – to Joel, anyway. Who knows what’s going on in his head? Sometimes I think he can’t stand either me or Dan, but then sometimes – especially if he comes into a room unexpectedly, and catches me when I’m feeling a bit tearful, or lonely – he’ll say, “Mum! What’s wrong? Come over here.”

Then he’ll give me a big hug, and tell me that everything’s going to be okay, even when he has no idea what I’m sad about. It helps much more than you’d think it would – but I can’t let myself think about feeling lonely at the moment. I have to get this nightmare over and then I can focus on making my Friends fantasy come to life.

“We’ve got something important to tell you, Joel,” I say, “so pay attention.”

“Um, Hannah,” says Dan, shifting about from foot to foot, and looking extremely uncomfortable. “There’s something else I should tell you first.”

I take no notice, as delaying tactics are typical of Dan. He’ll always put off doing anything tricky or emotional if he can, but he’s not getting away with it this time. We said we’d do this together, and we said we’d do it tonight – and that’s exactly what we’re going to do. Even if “together” means him standing there like a spare part while I do the difficult bit.

“Your dad and I are splitting up, Joel,” I say.

Joel doesn’t react at all, but when I look across at Dan and catch his eye, he shakes his head and swallows, then decides he’d better help out, after all.

“Joel?” he says. “Did you hear what your mother said? We’re splitting up.”

Dan’s voice sounds deadly serious, if a bit shaky, but Joel just laughs.

“Yeah, yeah – very funny,” he says. “Pull the other one. You two would never split up.”

It takes ages to persuade him that we would – and are – and then he’s incredulous, and extremely upset.

“But why?” he says. “Why the hell would you do that?”

I suggest Dan explains, seeing as the whole thing was originally his idea, but that doesn’t help at all, because he takes so long to get to the point. He starts by telling Joel about the argument, and what it was about.

“You argued about what?” says Joel, staring at Dan and me in turn. “A television programme? Have you both gone senile overnight?”

For a split second, I wonder if we have, but then Dan tells Joel that we haven’t. He adds, “I suppose we’re trying to make our lives happier, before we do.”

When I hear that, I excuse myself by saying I need to make an urgent call. I suddenly can’t face hearing why Dan’s so unhappy with me and, anyway, it’s always good to check that the Speaking Clock still exists. I give myself a talking-to at the same time as I discover it is 7:32 exactly, and then I replay the Mr Suave scenario several times in my head, just to remind myself that everything will be all right, eventually.

It almost works, until I go back to the living room, to find Dan sitting slumped in a chair with his head in his hands, and Joel pacing round and round the room in circles.

“You tell him why we’re doing this, Hannah,” says Dan. “I’ve run out of reasons, and he thinks all the ones I’ve already given him are ‘total crap’. He says we’re both going to be lonely, too.”

“No, we won’t,” I say. “We’ll be fine, Joel. We’ll have our friends to keep us company – and you, of course. You can come and see me whenever you like.”

“You two have ignored your friends for so long, you haven’t got any real ones left,” says Joel, at the same time as Dan says, “What d’you mean he can come and see you, Hannah? See you where? He’ll be here – with you – every day. You’ll need him to pay rent to help with the mortgage, once I move out at the end of this week.”

Oh, dear God. When Dan moves out at the end of this week? This week? And Dan’s the one who’s moving out, not me? I don’t know what to say to any of that, but Joel does.

“I’ve never heard such a dumbass reason for splitting up, in all my life,” he says. “And I think one of you is lying, or both of you. Which one of you is seeing someone else?”

That possibility hadn’t occurred to me until now, but if one of us is, it isn’t me. Not when Mr Suave’s not real. I think I may be about to cry again.