Calling Me Away (5 page)

“How is he?” I asked in a voice so small I wasn’t convinced she’d hear me.

“Do you want to know?”

I slid my eyes across the room, away from Haven’s stare. Did I want to hear about him? Would it make me feel better or worse? I nodded. “Yeah.”

“He moved out.”

“He did?”

“Yup.” She reached for her glass and took another gulp of wine. That was it? Come the fuck on, I needed more details than that. I widened my eyes at her.

“Renting a swanky new pad in the City.”

“Wow, really? That was fast.” I wanted to hear all about it. I wanted to know why he’d chosen the city rather than West London. But I wanted to hear it from him. Still, it was good news, right?

“Yeah, I think he’s surprised himself. He just needed a push. So thank you. Jake and I can go back to shagging like bunnies all over the flat.”

“I’m so pleased I could help.”

“He’s trying to do what you want.” My stomach flipped again. At least he wasn’t angry with me. He hadn’t given up. But I needed him not to be doing things so I would take him back. I wanted him to experience other things and still pick me.

“I just don’t want to be the easy option.”

“I totally get it. He’s all for the status quo. I’m sorry if I put doubts in your head. Me and my big mouth.”

“Come on, Haven. It wasn’t you. Don’t think that. This is about me feeling worthy. I need to know Luke loves me the way I love him. That we’re not just together because it’s the path of least resistance.” I took a deep breath. “I always thought having him would be enough, but I need more.”

“I think it’s brave of you,” she said.

“I might regret it. He might think I’m not worth it, or that there’s someone else better.”

“Then he’s an idiot,” Haven said. “And I can say that because we came out of the same womb. An alternative way of looking at it is that if the worst happens—and I don’t think it will—then it wouldn’t have worked in the long run anyway.”

“And that is why we are friends,” I said and pulled her into a hug.

Luke

Haven had asked me repeatedly why I wouldn’t hire movers, and although I had insisted that real men didn’t need to employ help in these situations—we hired a van, put on our oldest jeans and got the job done ourselves—I was beginning to think she might be right. I was knackered. And my lower back was starting to make its presence felt. Jesus, I felt fifty and I’d barely entered my thirties.

“God, it’s so ugly,” I said as Jake, my old uni mate Adam and I stood staring at my beloved brown leather couch, still trying to catch our breath from lugging the thing up four flights of stairs.

I’d arranged with Emma to collect my stuff from the flat. To be fair, the only big piece of furniture was the sofa, but there seemed to be endless boxes of I-didn’t-know-what filling every inch of the hired van. Emma had packed everything then gone away for the weekend so we wouldn’t run into each other. I felt bad she was still so upset that she was avoiding seeing me. Even though it had only been a few weeks, I’d truly moved on. Not just because I’d slept with Ash—it was more than that. I got to start life again. I’d never have left Emma if she’d not forced marriage, and I would have wasted my life. Since the split, somehow everything tasted slightly sweeter, smelled slightly sweeter. The sun shone slightly brighter. I had choices and opportunities that I could take and make happen . . . or not. It was entirely up to me. I felt invigorated.

“Yeah, it looks like one of the Rolling Stones. Like it’s had a great life, had loads of fun and seen things that would make your toes curl—but it’s old and exhausted and ready to die,” Adam said thoughtfully.

“The Keith Richards of sofas,” Jake chimed in. “And I don’t give a shit about stuff like this, but it is very nineteen ninety-eight.”

I chuckled. They were right. It was old-fashioned and falling apart. No wonder Emma let me have it. She’d kept every other bit of furniture in our flat, and I hadn’t bothered to argue with her. I’d been more than happy to leave the evidence of our life together behind.

“It’s time to let go, mate,” Adam said. “You’re going to be a partner. You’ve moved into this great new pad. Why the fuck do you want some disgusting student sofa in your shiny new life?”

Adam was right. In the last few days, I’d had a new world forced upon me, whether or not I wanted it. And far from finding it scary and unsettling, I was enjoying it. “I think you’re right. I don’t need it or want it. But you know what that means, don’t you?” I asked. “We’ve got to take it back downstairs. We can leave it in that Dumpster on the curb.”

“You’re a fucking arsehole,” Adam replied. “And you’re paying for a curry and enough beer to knock me out after this.”

“On my count,” Jake said. “One, two, three.” We heaved the sofa up and began to retrace our steps.

Despite the fact that I’d clung to this sofa for years, unwilling to give it up, letting it go felt like the right thing to do. We carried it down the stairs, almost beheading Adam on several occasions. It was ridiculous thinking it was so great for so long. I’d had my blinkers firmly on around this sofa, around life in general. Jake was right—it was time to let go. This shift was exactly what Ashleigh had meant, and every moment I spent away from her, the more I understood. I was grateful—she’d forced me to take a wider, bigger look to the future.

Now I was just around the corner, I got into the office earlier. The clock on my computer said it was just gone eight, and I’d been at my desk in our open-plan office for about twenty minutes, Googling triathlon training. Lugging that sofa up and down the stairs had left me half dead. I wasn’t ready to descend into middle age quite yet. I needed some kind of goal to motivate me into getting back into regular gym sessions. Fuck me, the training looked tough. I liked to run, and I’d been on a few cycling holidays in my time, so a triathlon seemed like a good option. It would give me focus and something to do with my weekends when I wasn’t working. Now I wasn’t part of a couple, I found I had a lot more time on my hands than I’d expected. Time I didn’t want to just fritter away or give to my job. Completing a triathlon would be an achievement.

“Hey, Luke.”

Fiona hovered at the side of my desk. An environmental lawyer, she was up for partnership this year too. Her brain was as big as a planet, but she had a quiet manner that meant unless you really listened, she came across like a bit of a flake. She was anything but.

“You a triathlete too?” she asked.

“Thinking about it. It looks fucking hard.”

“It is.” She raised her eyebrows and smiled.

I swiveled in my chair to face her. “Can you testify from experience?”

“I started training a few years ago after a bad breakup,” she continued. “I hadn’t been on a bike since I was a teen, and there were several times before and during the race I thought I might die. But the high after finishing is better than any drug. You should try it. I guarantee you’ll be hooked after your first competition.”

“You think it’s realistic for someone to start at my age?”

“Oh my God, totally. You’re young and you clearly work out.” She glanced away and at the floor. “I mean, you’ll love it.”

I hadn’t worked out much lately, but at least I looked as if I were in good shape, even if I didn’t feel it.

I’d never had a conversation with Fiona other than about work. I’d not considered her existence outside of these four walls, but clearly she was passionate about what she was talking about.

“Any words of wisdom on where to start?”

She leaned across my keyboard and started tapping away. I sat back in my chair and moved slightly. “Here,” she said. “Try this website. If I were you, I’d start with a sprint, and see how you get on.”

“Wow, fifteen miles is a sprint?” It sounded more and more brutal.

She clicked on several menus and scrolled through the site, pulling up a spreadsheet. “Start with a training plan, but don’t be afraid to change the one you come up with. The first time you don’t really know left from right. You’re a big guy, and you look fit, but . . .” A blush bloomed across her cheeks, and she moved away from the keyboard, but continued to stare at the screen. “But you don’t know how your body’s going to react. I could take a look at your plan if you want me to. Perhaps give you some ideas of where to train.”

“That would be great, thanks,” I said through a grin. “It would be good to have someone to talk this shit through with. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Okay, well, email me your plan when you have it, and I’ll take a look. We could go for coffee sometime and look over it.” She shrugged “But I’m sure you’ll be—”

“Let’s grab some time on Friday maybe?” Putting a triathlete in front of me was like the universe telling me I was on the right track. What had been a vague idea thirty minutes ago was firming up to be a realistic proposition. Having someone help me get started was just what I needed.

“After work?” I had back-to-back meetings on Friday.

“Yeah, sounds good.” Fiona grinned and began to head off. Before she got to the door, she froze.

“You came to talk about the Nigelson, case, didn’t you?” I laughed.

She slapped her forehead and spun to face me. “I did. I came to drop this off,” she said, handing me the bunch of papers tucked under her arm. “It’s the environmental report you asked for. I’ve emailed you my analysis, but thought you might want to see the original.”

“Thanks, that’s great. I thought it would take longer.” She managed to get through work like a machine.

“Oh, I had some free time, so I got to it sooner than I expected.” She smiled and turned to leave. “See you Friday.”

Finally, things were coming together. The flat. The triathlon. Even catching up with Adam. I was getting on with my life, just as Ashleigh had wanted me to. But I couldn’t help thinking everything would feel a little better if she were here to share it.

Ashleigh

Richard suggested a quick bite before the play, and I couldn’t see a reason to say no. It would be good to have a distraction. At least I’d managed to get a seat on the bus. I had my book in my bag, but I couldn’t bring myself to read at the moment. Everything on my e-reader was about couples bound to have a happily ever after. I was too concerned about whether or not I was going to get mine to read about anyone else’s. As usual, I was lost in thoughts of Luke.

When would I see him again? Haven had cancelled Sunday night dinner, making up some crazy excuse about her hairdresser. I knew she’d intended to give Luke and me a little breathing space, and I was grateful, but I missed him so much.