31 Dream Street (27 page)

Leah laughed. ‘What?’

‘Melinda reckons my hair’s a state. Said I should shave it all off, like some pop-star fellow. What do you think, Leah?’

‘No,’ she shook her head and laughed again. ‘You’ve got the wrong-shaped head for shaved hair.’

‘That’s exactly what I said.’ He straightened himself up. ‘
Exactly
. You’re very observant, Leah. It’s remarkable, what you pick up about people. I wish I was more like you.’

Leah shrugged and smiled. ‘You’re more observant than you think.’

‘I think not. For example, if I were more observant, I might have guessed that you and your ex-boyfriend would be reunited. And if I were really observant I’d have predicted that Ruby’s new boyfriend would arrive on my doorstep on a Monday night, having left his wife. But I am not. I see nothing. I hear nothing. I sit alone, disconnected. An island…’

‘No man is an island, Toby.’

‘Well, then I am a headland and you, Leah, are the causeway.’

He smiled weakly at her and let himself fall against the doorpost again. ‘Oh, God,’ he groaned, letting his head fall onto his fist. ‘Listen to me. Just listen to me. What a drunken, pretentious idiot. And I am absolutely sure you didn’t come here to listen to my pitiful blatherings. What can I do for you, lovely, lovely Leah? Would you like to come in?’

She turned to glance at her flat, where the lit-up windows showed signs of life. ‘No,’ she said. ‘No. I’d better get back…’

‘Yes, yes, yes. Of course, of course, of course.’ Toby nodded emphatically.

‘But I just wanted to let you know, Jack came into the shop today, Italian Jack?’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘And guess what? He’s invited me over for dinner on Saturday night. And he said I could bring whoever I wanted.’

‘Well, well, well.’

‘So? Are you free? Saturday night?’

‘What? Me?’

‘Yes. You and Melinda.’

‘Oh, my God. You mean, this is it? The big set-up?’

‘Yes,’ said Leah. ‘That’s exactly what I mean.’

‘Oh, God. How exciting. I mean, yes, I’m free. And I’m sure Melinda will be.
Melinda!
’ he called over his shoulder.

‘
Yes?
’

‘
Are you free for dinner on Saturday night?
’

‘
Depends. Who’s asking?
’

‘
Me. I’m asking
.’

‘
Then, yes
.’

Toby smiled. ‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘So, who’ll be there?’

‘You, me, Jack and Melinda.’

‘And what about Am… Ama…?’

‘No. Not Amitabh. He’d hate it.’

‘Well, that’s wonderful. Just great.’

‘And also – isn’t it about time we went for that swim?’

‘Oh, so you did get my note, then?’

‘Yes. Amitabh gave it to me. I’ve just been, you know…?’

‘Yes, I do know. I know, I know, I know. I am
knowing
.’

‘So, shall we go?’

‘Go where, lovely Leah?’

‘Shall we go swimming? This week, maybe?’

‘Yes. We shall. Definitely. When would you like to go?’

‘Thursday afternoon? It’s my day off.’

‘Thursday afternoon, it is. I will invest in some new trunks. And maybe a St Tropez Spray Tan.’

‘I’m going out on Saturday night,’ she said to Amitabh a few moments later.

‘Oh, right,’ he said, untangling the wires on his headphones. ‘Where to?’

‘Out with Toby.’

‘What – him over the road?’

‘Yes.’

He threw her a look.

‘Why?’ she said, defensively. ‘What’s wrong with that?’

‘There’s nothing
wrong
with it,’ he said. ‘It’s just a bit weird, that’s all.’

‘Weird?’

‘Yeah. Weird. I mean – he’s strange. He’s not the usual sort of person you’d be friends with.’

‘He’s not strange at all. He’s completely charming, as a matter of fact.’

‘OK, OK. No need to be so defensive. I’m just not sure about him, that’s all. Do you think maybe he fancies you?’

Leah spilled farfalle into a pan of boiling water and sighed. ‘No, of course he doesn’t fancy me.’

‘Is he gay?’

‘No. Don’t be stupid. He used to be married.’

‘We both know that means nothing…’

‘Well, anyway. He’s just not. He’s in love with that dark-haired girl, Ruby, so he can’t be.’

‘How the hell do you know that? Did he tell you?’

‘No. It’s just…
obvious
.’

Leah stirred a fork through the pasta and pulled a jar of pesto sauce out of the fridge. She was finding this conversation very annoying. She was finding Amitabh very annoying. This whole scenario was putting her in mind of
Truly Madly Deeply
, where the dead lover comes back to the grieving woman as a ghost and completely pisses her off. Amitabh was, without a doubt, a warm and lovely person. But he was also incredibly passive and annoyingly flaccid. He existed in a bubble of here and now-ness. He didn’t look at big pictures or ask himself big questions. It was all about cosiness and comfort and general ease of passage through life. He had no nooks or crannies, no interesting little corners of intriguing mystery. Where Toby was like an old Victorian bureau, full of tiny drawers and cubby holes and secret compartments, Amitabh was more of a blanket box.

‘Where’s he taking you, then, the old charmer?’

‘We’re going for dinner,’ she said.

‘Very nice,’ said Amitabh, plugging his earphones into his hi-fi, ‘very nice indeed.’

Leah forked some pesto out of the jar and into a bowl and ground her teeth together, very gently.

56

Ruby opened her eyes.

Her gaze alighted upon a large aluminium suitcase.

She shut them again.

She took a deep breath and turned her head to the left. Tim was lying facing her, staring at her. She jumped.

‘Sorry,’ he said, pulling her hair away from her eyes. ‘Sorry. I just… it’s so amazing, waking up with you.’

‘Oh, Jesus, Tim. God, I’ve only just woken up. Give me a chance to, you know…’

She rolled onto her side away from him.

‘This is a bit fucking mega, isn’t it?’ said Tim.

‘You could say that.’

He rolled towards her and kissed her shoulder. ‘It’ll be fine, Ruby-chews. you’ll see. I’ll make sure everything is fine.’

He got out of bed and started to dress himself. Ruby glanced at him from the corner of her eye, at his large, white body, at the ski tan that stopped under his chin, like he’d been dunked in a can of creosote, at the black fur that sprouted from his chest in the shape of angel wings and the soft penis that hung from beneath his belly like a naked abseiler, trapped beneath an overhang. She sighed and rolled onto her back. ‘Where are you going?’ she said.

‘To the office. I’ve just got back from holiday. I can’t take any time off. But – on Saturday, you and I are going flat-hunting.’

‘We are?’

‘Yes. Where do you fancy? I’ve always fancied living in Clerkenwell. How about that? A warehouse apartment. Or what about Soho? A nice little penthouse in the middle of town?’

‘What – you’re going to buy me a flat?’

‘No. Not buy. Rent. For now.’

‘But I can’t afford to pay the rent here, let alone in the West End.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ he said, smiling at her, indulgently. ‘You don’t have to pay anything. That’s what I’m here for. I tell you what…’ He looped a Thomas Pink tie around his neck and folded his shirt collar down over it. ‘… you think about it. Make a list of places you’d like to live. We’ll talk about it tonight.’

‘OK,’ said Ruby, whose mood had improved rapidly at the thought of quirky little one-bedroom flats above sex shops in Soho, ‘let’s.’

57

Con opened the yellow carton and pulled out his Big Mac. He considered it for a moment before he brought it to his mouth, stared at the pale flecks of sesame, the tongue of sludge-coloured meat emerging from the lips of the bun. He peeled it open and gazed at the road accident of relish, the damp lettuce, the smear of glistening mayonnaise. He closed it and put it back in the carton.

He was sitting in the tea room at work, surrounded by men and newspapers, half-eaten sandwiches and plastic cups. He picked up the paper carton of french fries and ate them rhythmically, robotically, while he flicked through the
Evening Standard
.

‘Connor McNulty, I don’t believe it! I turn my back for five minutes and you’re back on the McDonald’s!’

Con looked up. So did everyone else in the break room. It was Daisy. She was wearing brown leather shorts with a cream blouse and grey waistcoat. Her hair was in a thin plait and she was clutching a big paper bag from the deli round the corner.

‘Daisy,’ he said. ‘You’re back. I didn’t realize.’

‘Yes.’ She put the paper bag down on the table and took the seat next to him. ‘It was my first day back yesterday, actually.’

‘God, how are you? You look…
great
.’

‘Yes,’ she nodded. ‘I feel pretty good. It was great to have some time at home. Some good old-fashioned parental TLC. How are you?’

‘Yeah. I’m good.’

‘Good,’ she smiled, and pulled the paper bag towards her. ‘Well, I’ve got us panini. Tuna and cheese, or ham and cheese. Which do you fancy? If you’ve got any room after all those
McDonald’s chips
, that is.’

Con took the tuna panini and grinned. ‘Our kitchen’s being replaced,’ he said. ‘Nowhere to make sandwiches.’

‘That’s no excuse.’ Daisy licked some grease off her thumb. ‘That’s what delis are for.’

‘You know what, though?’ He pointed at his Big Mac. ‘I couldn’t eat it. Honestly, I just looked at, I mean
really
looked at it. And that was that. Had to shut the lid on it.’

‘Hoo-rah!’ she cried. ‘You are cured! My work here is done.’

Con smiled and bit into his panini.

‘So,’ she said, carefully. ‘I missed you.’

Con glanced at her. He tried to think of something to say that wasn’t reciprocal, but wasn’t heartless either. He couldn’t. He smiled wanly at her instead.

‘I kind of… I don’t know,’ she said, ‘I’d kind of thought you might visit. Or phone.’

‘Yeah,’ he said, staring at his sandwich. ‘Yeah. I know. I just… it was…’

‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t expecting you to explain yourself. I mean, I know, illness can be quite scary.
Especially at our age. I know it’s not something everyone can deal with. But, a phone call might have been nice.’

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry.’

‘Mimi said…’ she paused.

‘What?’

‘She said you might have been a bit freaked out by our parents. All that stuff about coming to stay at the house.’

‘Nah,’ he shook his head. ‘Why would I be freaked out by that?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe it was a bit much? A bit soon.’

‘No. I told you. Your parents are cool.’

‘Then why?’ she said.

‘Why what?’

‘Why…’ – her eyes filled with tears – ‘why haven’t I heard anything from you for nearly two weeks?’

He stared at her, desperately trying to find an explanation that wouldn’t make her cry even more. ‘Oh, God, Daisy…’

‘Is it me? Is it actually nothing to do with me being ill or my family? Is it actually just that you’re not interested?’ A tear fell from her eye and landed on her cheek. It rolled down towards the corner of her mouth where she wiped it away. ‘Because if that’s the case then I’d really like to know.’

‘No,’ he said, ‘of course not.’

‘Then what is it? Because, really, it’s just not entirely normal, is it, to write someone a poem, tell them that you love them, then leave them in hospital, seriously ill, and not get in touch again?’

The room fell silent, except for the tinny sound of Rachel Stevens on Capital radio and Daisy’s voice.

‘It doesn’t make any sense, to me,’ she continued. ‘None at all. And I came in here, I’d made all these excuses for you – that you were intimidated by my illness, my family. And I was going to be so cool and everything was going to get resolved and be OK. But it’s not, is it?’

Con glanced at the other blokes in the room, out of the corner of his eye. They were all watching, listening. He shrugged, ‘Everything’s cool,’ he said.

‘Is it?’

‘Yeah. I’m just. It’s just, not…
God
.’

‘No. It’s fine.’ Daisy dropped her panini onto the table top and stood up. ‘Really. It’s absolutely fine. Don’t bother trying to explain. It’ll only make things worse.’ She gripped the straps of her handbag with one chalky-white hand, stared at Con for a moment and then she left.

The room fell silent. Con listened to his heart throbbing under his ribcage. He let his sandwich fall out of his hand.

‘Jesus, Con,’ said someone, at the back of the room, ‘you total fucking bastard.’

58

Melinda came to Toby’s room on Tuesday evening. She was holding a box.

‘Now,’ she said, sailing past him and towards his bed. ‘Don’t freak out, but I’ve come to sort you out.’

‘Sort me out what?’

She opened the box and pulled out a black contraption with a cord coming out of it. It was about the size of a mobile phone. She looked round the skirting boards to locate an electricity socket, then she plugged the contraption in. ‘Now,’ she said, wheeling his office chair away from his PC and towards his bed, ‘come over here.’ She patted the seat. ‘Sit down.’

‘Er, Melinda, what…?’

‘Trust me Toby. This is for your own good. You will never, ever regret this, not for a minute. Now – sit – down.’

He followed her instructions and glanced at the black contraption in her hand, nervously. He stood up again, sharply, when she switched it on and it started vibrating very, very loudly.

‘Oh, Jesus,’ he said, staring at it in horror, ‘What are you going to do to me?’

‘Just sit down,’ she said, ‘and you’ll see.’

Toby tried to relax. He assumed that the vibrating black thing was some kind of massage device, and
prepared himself for a pleasant sensation between his shoulder blades. Instead Melinda started rubbing it against his cheekbones. She brought it back and forth across the left side of his face and, he had to admit, it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant feeling.