Anywhere's Better Than Here (11 page)

They passed a bus which had broken down a few doors from Gerry's doorway. Laurie looked up at all the passengers waiting patiently while two drivers stood in front of the opened bonnet and smoked. The bus was almost full and the people on board were mostly staring into space facing the direction the bus was pointed. It didn't look as if anyone was talking and she was about to comment on this to Gerry when she saw Ed sitting with his earphones on, drumming his fingers on the edge of the window sill, staring dead ahead. She looked at his profile for a moment and considered telling Gerry to look up but then imagined, ridiculously, that Gerry would look up at the same time as Ed looked down and that Ed would know immediately and would run down the stairs and attack Gerry.

She tried to set the scene up in her mind but she just couldn't picture Gerry hitting Ed back. He'd probably allow Ed to pummel him for a bit before he ran out of steam and would then take him for a pint. They'd chat and discover she was really the one to blame in all this and they'd start to hang out together and she'd be on her own and it would serve her right.

Anyway, who was she kidding, there was no way Ed would come downstairs.

Ed must have felt her staring up at him because he turned his head to face her. Laurie pulled her head down as far as it would go into her coat but she couldn't tear her eyes away from his face. He looked morosely at her for a moment before she realised that it wasn't Ed at all. It was just some other young guy.

‘‘Are you coming?'' Gerry was calling.

‘‘Oh yeah, yeah,'' she ran over to the door he was holding open for her.

‘‘Come on, it's perishing. I'll get the heating on.'' He ushered her ahead of him up the stairs. When they reached the first landing he nudged her quickly past his mental neighbour's door and propelled her up the stairs to his flat. His hand on her back felt nice and she deliberately moved more slowly so he'd have to apply a bit more pressure.

When they reached his flat Gerry had the key ready and the door was open almost immediately.

‘‘Impressive door opening technique. They teach you that in the army?''

‘‘Hardly. We'd use brute force there.'' He pushed the door shut. ‘‘I had to learn the quick door manoeuvre here.'' He nodded towards the door.

Laurie frowned. ‘‘What do you mean?''

‘‘Downstairs.'' He mouthed the word, ‘‘Theresa.''

‘‘Oh,'' said Laurie. ‘‘I see.'' She walked into the flat. ‘‘What's the story there? She's old enough to be your gran!''

Gerry smiled and raised an eyebrow.

‘‘It's hardly the same,'' Laurie said, annoyed. ‘‘This,'' she flicked her index finger between the two of them a few times, ‘‘isn't creepy.''

Gerry frowned. ‘‘It's not?''

‘‘Of course it's bloody not. Stop thinking like that.'' She shrugged herself out of her coat and held it out to Gerry. ‘‘Surely she's seen you with other girls, women, up here. Surely she doesn't think she's in with a chance?''

‘‘I haven't really brought anyone else here.'' He smiled at Laurie, but he looked a bit uncertain. ‘‘Not since I came back.''

‘‘Really?'' asked Laurie. It was weird. How long had he been back? And back from where exactly? ‘‘You mean I'm really your girlfriend?''

‘‘Oh … I dunno … I just thought we were, y'know …'' Gerry seemed mortified.

‘‘I'm only kidding about,'' Laurie said. ‘‘I mean, let's not think too much about things like that, let's just see what happens, eh?'' She looked up earnestly at Gerry who nodded and turned to hang her coat in the hall cupboard.

‘‘Right. Where's that cup of tea you were talking about?''

‘‘Follow me.'' Gerry led the way into the living-room/ kitchen. He gestured at the sofa and Laurie sat down. As Gerry turned his back to her to fill the kettle, Laurie stood up again and moved over to the dresser where the TV and some of Gerry's CDs were stored. She flicked through the CDs and wiped a finger across the dresser surface. Spotless. She looked up in time to see Gerry grin at her.

‘‘Everything meet with your expectations, ma'am?'' He stood to attention as if for inspection.

Laurie was embarrassed to be seen to check such a stupid thing. It wasn't as if she kept a particularly clean or indeed welcoming home.

‘‘It's all ship shape. Oh, hang on, that's the wrong phrase isn't it?''

‘‘Yes, but don't worry. I'm glad I met with your approval.'' He was smiling, but there was a look of relief on his face too.

‘‘It's actually very clean and … well, orderly here.''

‘‘But?'' Gerry turned away from her to get mugs and spoons out. Laurie could tell he was just playing for time. She knew she should leave it but couldn't help herself. She tried to sound merely curious.

‘‘Well, you've no junk. No stuff. Where are your photos or books or whatever?''

Gerry kept his back to her and dropped a tea bag into one of the cups.

‘‘I suppose I don't have much stuff. Rolling stones and all that.''

‘‘What?''

‘‘I've travelled a lot. I haven't gathered much moss.'' He glanced at her.

This should have been a further cue to just shut it, but Laurie couldn't stop.

‘‘But don't you have any pictures of your family or anyone?''

‘‘No.'' He paused then seemed to force himself on. ‘‘I'm not massively in touch with my family.'' He opened the fridge and took out the milk. ‘‘I see them sometimes but not with any regularity.''

Laurie frowned.

‘‘Gerry, do your family know you're here?''

Gerry poured boiling water into the mugs. ‘‘No. They don't.''

‘‘Oh.'' She scanned his face but could read nothing in it. ‘‘Can I ask why?''

He shrugged. ‘‘Oh, various things.'' He poured milk into the mugs. ‘‘We had some difficulties when I first joined up and it's never improved much.'' He turned round, holding a mug out.

She reached forward and clasped her hands around Gerry's. They stared at each other.

‘‘Anyway,'' Laurie said.

‘‘Anyway,'' Gerry repeated, smiling.

Laurie sat down and took a noisy slurp of her tea. ‘‘You going to sit down?'' She nodded at the sofa next to her.

‘‘I suppose so,'' said Gerry looking down at her.

‘‘Hey! You'd better not be looking down my top!'' said Laurie in an attempt to sound saucy.

Gerry smiled but walked over to the window.

Well, I've managed to ruin that moment, thought Laurie, gulping down her tea even though it was much too hot. Her eyes watered and she wiped at them as she watched Gerry who was looking out into the street.

He was actually much nicer looking than he appeared at first. She admired the breadth of his shoulders and the height of him. He was very manly, but not a man's man. He was quite tender and quiet but there was that distance in him. He was polite and kind, but he wasn't really telling Laurie much. But then, Laurie was very deliberately not telling him much and there was clearly a lot to tell. At what point would they start to tell each other things? Would they have to go through all the horror of the nakedness and the awkwardness before there was more biographical detail?

Gerry turned to Laurie. If this was a film there'd be a rise in the intensity of the soundtrack or the background would blur bringing Gerry's face into sharp focus. There'd be an extreme close up of Gerry looking intense and then one of Laurie looking unsure but interested, possibly biting her lip. Then it all started to go wonky and spaghetti-westernish. She could hear quite distinctly that lonesome whistling that preceded the gun fight. She made an effort to focus. Gerry was still looking at her. The time was now.

He advanced towards her, putting his mug down on the coffee table then taking hers from her hands and doing the same with it. He reached forward guided her to her feet. He stood for a second with his hand on her shoulder, looking into her eyes.

‘‘Something is happening here, isn't it?''

His face was so serious that Laurie felt like laughing, but she knew that would probably be the end of things if she did. Why was he so serious about this? She was the one breaking the rules.

The walls were magnolia painted woodchip. The carpet was a rough cord type, that someone had covered in front of the sofa with a sludgy coloured Indian rug. The furniture was mismatched charity shop stuff; a tiled coffee table, a teak coloured empty bookcase, a formica table by the window with two pine farmhouse style chairs neatly tucked underneath. She wondered if Gerry owned any of it, but knew he wouldn't. She pictured her flat and made a mental pile of all the furniture she owned. She had a red rocking chair that someone had given her when they'd moved away and a coffee table that she'd painted black and white to resemble cow hide. It was a horrible looking table, but because Ed had laughed when she'd seen it, she kept it.

If there was a fire in her flat she knew there was very little she'd have the slightest interest in keeping. She could picture herself calmly walking away from the burning building thinking how glad she was of the opportunity to get rid of everything without having to go through it.

She sighed.

‘‘Are you okay Laurie?'' Gerry turned her face towards him.

She smiled half-heartedly. ‘‘Do you ever think …'' She sighed again. She didn't really know how to explain herself. She knew she was a bit of a spoilt brat really. Things could be so much worse.

‘‘What?'' asked Gerry.

She shrugged. ‘‘I dunno. I can't explain it.''

‘‘Try.''

‘‘Well,'' she took a deep breath. ‘‘I look around here and at first you think, ‘‘God, he's got nothing. Not a thing. That's kind of sad'', you know?''

‘‘No. Not really.'' He was frowning, somewhere between trying to understand and trying not to take offence.

‘‘Oh, I don't mean anything by that.'' She thought for a second. ‘‘I mean that …'' She paused. ‘‘Right. I mean that you've no stuff. You seem a bit like you're like a hobo, sort of.''

He laughed but he was annoyed.

‘‘Oh don't take offence. I'm not explaining myself well.'' She tried again. ‘‘At first I thought that was a bit weird or sad or something.'' She smiled encouragingly at him. ‘‘Now I look around and I think, ‘‘how sensible. He doesn't have all the crap around him – the meaningless, just collected, nonsense, crap – that I have floating around in my place.'' She smiled, but she wasn't convincing him. ‘‘Don't you see how sensible that is? Of course you do, that's why you're doing it, eh?''

He wasn't frowning now, just looking steadily at her.

‘‘I'm thinking that's what I need to do. Get rid of everything. Travel light.''

Gerry's eyes looked wet all of a sudden but Laurie decided to ignore this and make a joke of things. ‘‘Travelling light is where it's at – it's the new black. Travelling light is the new 40.''

Gerry gripped Laurie's shoulders more firmly. ‘‘We're all God's travelling children? We're all the littlest hobo?''

Clearly, he wasn't getting her drift.

‘‘I'm probably not explaining myself very well. Am I?''

Gerry seemed to have managed to avert the tears that had appeared.

‘‘No, you are. I just hadn't really thought about it properly. I hadn't done it on purpose.''

‘‘Really?'' Laurie was surprised. ‘‘I thought it was your army training.''

‘‘Well, maybe a bit.'' He nodded. ‘‘But other soldiers that did the same things I've done have stuff and families and so on.''

‘‘M-hm,'' said Laurie. ‘‘But maybe they are the ones who've got it wrong.''

Gerry gave a queer little laugh. ‘‘Do you think?'' Laurie forced herself to carry on.

‘‘If you're free of stuff, you're free! Millions of Buddhists can't be wrong.''

There was a pause then Gerry laughed properly. ‘‘God Laurie, you're something else, aren't you?''

She smiled, not quite sure if that was a good thing.

‘‘We should celebrate,'' said Gerry.

‘‘What?'' said Laurie.

‘‘We should celebrate our new philosophy, our plan for life.''

He was grinning from ear to ear. Laurie hadn't seen this look before.

‘‘Ok. What will we do?''

‘‘We'll go out tonight – the cinema then dinner.''

‘‘Really?'' asked Laurie. This didn't seem a very Gerry sort of plan. ‘‘We've got work.''

‘‘Come on, we can phone in sick.'' Gerry said pulling her towards him. ‘‘We deserve a night off. It'll be fun!'' He pulled back a little. ‘‘I'll take you somewhere fancy. My treat. An old fashioned date. ‘‘That doesn't break the hobo rule, does it?''

‘‘No. I suppose not. As long as we don't accumulate any stuff,'' she smiled, ‘‘but, actually, I don't have anything nice to wear out to somewhere fancy.''

He thought for a second. ‘‘Then you should go and buy something.'' He took his wallet out and handed her a twenty pound note. ‘‘Here. My treat.''

‘‘Your treat? What is this, the fifties?''

‘‘Oh, don't be like that,'' he said, hugging her. ‘‘I'd really like to buy you something. You don't have to owe me.''

Laurie pulled away.

‘‘Really. I mean it. You won't owe me anything. It will be payment enough to be seen with such a beautiful woman on my arm.'' He bowed.

‘‘Okay then.'' She took the note and put it in her back pocket. She'd have to be careful, she didn't want to be too beholden to him.