Can't Live Without (30 page)

There was no chance of Bonnie pairing me off tonight. Or any other night. Mr Smart is a hard act to follow, and he fills my head like the chicken and potato flan fills my stomach now. Except by the morning the meal will be gone, magically absorbed by my greedy body, but Paul will still be inside my head. There is no cure for love. Not when you’ve lost it.

Bonnie comes in with a coffee and some toast. I’m confused. ‘Is it morning already?’ I ask. I do feel quite groggy.

‘No, stupid.’ She sets them down on the bedside table and perches herself on the edge of the bed. ‘I thought it would help to sober you up.’

‘And stop me sleeping. All that caffeine.’

‘Whatever.’ My friend wriggles her backside further onto the bed. ‘Move your great big legs,’ she says. Thanks, Bonnie. So good for my self-esteem.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ I tell her.

‘Oh, no.’ She rolls her eyes to the ceiling.

‘No, wait. I’ve been thinking about Paul.’

‘Yes, that’s what I thought you were going to say. Don’t do it to yourself, Stella. You’ve had more ups and downs with that man than I’ve had in the lift. And I’ve lived here for five years. That’s a lot of trips in a lift.’

I nod but carry on regardless. ‘We have been through a lot together, Paul and I. He’s been a good friend to me, that counts for a lot. I don’t know, Bon. I was pissed off with him for jumping to the wrong conclusions and then ignoring me but – well, he has been trying to get in touch. Or at least he was up until a few days ago.’

The missed calls on my mobile, which had made me feel so justified and in control while I was still hurt and angry, have now dried up completely. It’s hard to read anything into this other than that he’s simply given up. It’s like it turned into a competition in the end – who could be the most stubborn. It looks like I won. Talk about winning the battle and losing the war!

‘It just seems wrong to give up without one last try,’ I say sadly, drawing my knees up to my chest. Bonnie makes the most of the space on the bed, flopping back with a groan.

‘Now, don’t be taking this the wrong way,’ – which, of course, I’m bound to now she’s said that – ‘but here you are, a thirty-eight-year-old woman –’

‘Thirty-seven!’

‘Thirty-seven, then. And you’re sleeping in your best friend’s spare room because you have no TV and you hate being on your own.’ She purses her lips together and tilts her head. ‘Don’t you think that’s just a little bit sad?’

You won’t be my best friend much longer if you keep making comments like that, I want to say.

But don’t. Because she has a point.

‘If that’s true,’ I say instead, ‘then this might be my last best chance to do something about it. In fact,’ I throw the covers back and swing my legs out of the bed, ‘that’s exactly what I’m going to do! I’m going to go and see Paul and I’m going to bloody well make him listen to me. If there’s any chance at all of us getting together then I’ll find out – and I won’t take no for an answer.’

Bonnie watches me pick up my bag and stuff my toothbrush and shoes inside it before she says, ‘Don’t you think it might be better to wait until morning? Like, he might take you a bit more seriously if you were dressed in something other than pyjamas?’

‘Right,’ I say and flop back down on the bed. ‘The morning it is then.’

Only one problem, though. I seem to have spent so long avoiding him, I have absolutely no idea what I’m going to say.

***

‘Where are you off to?’ Bonnie emerges from the bathroom the next morning looking like the bride of Dracula, and rubs her eyes to make sure that the apparition of me in full jogging regalia is not a figment of her imagination.

‘Jogging,’ I reply.

‘Stella,’ she groans, reaching blindly for the kettle. ‘You do not jog.’

‘I do now,’ I say gaily, jogging on the spot to prove a point. ‘Where’s Marcus?’

‘He has a meeting today.’ Bonnie puts tea bags and milk in two cups. ‘Toast?’

‘Defo!’

She gives me a weary look. I stop jogging.

‘Working on a Saturday, eh? He’s keen.’

‘We’re saving.’ She grabs the butter from her enormous fridge – a carbon copy of my beloved double-door ice-maker. How I mourned that fridge. Now I just think how stupid it must have looked in my cute little kitchen.

‘You’re both loaded. What could you be saving for?’

‘Stella,’ Bonnie says, turning to face me, marmalade jar in hand. ‘I’ve been meaning to tell you this but kind of waiting for the right time, with all your troubles and stuff.’

‘What?’

She looks uncomfortable. ‘The thing is, Marcus has asked me… he and I are getting married.’

Just then the toast pops up and we both look at it, shocked. I break the silence first. ‘That’s fantastic, Bonnie! I’m really, really happy for you. You make a lovely couple.’

And I mean it, I really do. It is hard, hearing that your best friend’s getting hitched when you’re – what was it Bonnie called me last night – “a bit sad”. But I am genuinely happy for her.

Everything’s changing, it seems. Everyone’s moving on.

I eat my toast while she tells me about their plans – spring wedding, new house, babies soon after hopefully. Bonnie looks, well – bonny.

Giving her a hug I tell her I’ve got to go.

‘Where are you off to?’ she asks.

‘I told you, I’m going jogging.’

‘Seriously?’

‘Seriously.’

‘But…’ She looks me up and down. ‘Where did you get the gear from?’

‘Home.’

‘You went home to get changed and then came back here again?’ Bonnie looks puzzled. ‘Not that it isn’t lovely seeing your ugly mug over breakfast but – why?’

I shove the last of the toast into my mouth and swallow. ‘Because,’ I tell her, resuming my jogging on the spot, ‘I have no food in the house. And what I’m about to do requires a full stomach. Wish me luck!’ With that I give her a quick hug and jog right out of the door.

You may have guessed that there is an ulterior motive to my new-found exercise plan. In fact, it is more of a one-off than a plan. As I drifted into a fitful sleep last night I remembered that the object of my love and affection is very much a creature of habit, and that his habits are wholesome and healthy. They involve games of squash, healthy eating – and running around Willen Lake every morning without fail.

Chapter 29

Perversely, despite being the middle of August and the height of the British summer, this morning it is surprisingly cold. I’ve already been around the blasted lake twice and still haven’t warmed up. Admittedly I’ve been walking rather slowly instead of jogging, but I don’t want to meet Paul looking like Sweaty Betty for this, my last chance at happiness.

Eventually I see him. He emerges from the trees looking like an advert for Adidas, running at the pace of an athlete. My heart misses a couple of beats – despite the lack of exertion. Gamely, I begin jogging, and before long can hear his footsteps behind me. As he passes I step into his path, timing it perfectly – although I hadn’t really meant for him to fall headlong into the bushes.

Oops.

‘Are you OK?’ I reach for his hand, surreptitiously smoothing my hair out of my face at the same time.

Paul stands and brushes himself down, then stares at me as though I’m from another planet.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ he says.

Not a friendly planet, obviously.

‘Jogging,’ I say brightly, trying to make out I am as surprised as him. ‘Fancy seeing you here!’ But he is clearly having none of it.

‘Are you stalking me?’ he asks suspiciously.

The very idea! ‘No, I am not.’ I make my face indignant. ‘I’ll have you know I’m merely keeping fit. Lots of people run around the lake, as you see.’ I wave my arm in a wide arc but unfortunately we seem to be the only two people in Milton Keynes at that moment. I’ve never seen Willen Lake less crowded.

‘OK. Well, I’ll let you get back to it then.’ Paul starts to jog away.

No! This isn’t the way it is supposed to happen.

‘Paul, wait!’ I call.

He carries on running. I have no choice. I must subjugate myself and run after him.

Huffing and puffing, I chase along the gravel path, too out of breath to call out again, while all the time he runs faster and faster. He obviously knows I’m behind him. He has no intention of making it easy for me. So he’s still playing the game of stubborn, is he? At this rate I will be dead by the time I catch him up, never mind sweaty.

Suddenly he stops, and this time it is me who runs headlong into him. He thrusts out his hand and grabs me roughly, waiting until I’ve found my feet before he drops my arm. He regards me thoughtfully. I try to speak, can’t, so I hold up my palm while I catch my breath. All the while those piercing blue eyes are on me like a judgement.

‘Paul,’ I say finally, trying to ignore the sweat that is dripping off the end of my chin.

Come on, Stella. Don’t blow it now.

‘The thing is,’ I begin again, ‘I was kind of hoping to bump into you today.’ His expression says, No shit? I press on. ‘I wanted to talk you. I wanted to say that I’m sorry for ignoring your calls. I was …’ Trailing off, I wonder how to explain the complicated feeling of anger and indignation mixed with desire and fear that had stopped me every time I went to pick up the phone.

‘It’s OK,’ he says calmly. ‘I understand.’

‘You do?’ I struggle to get past his closed expression, desperate to know what is going on in his head right now. ‘Well, anyway, we could talk now if you like. If there’s something you’ve been wanting to tell me, some reason for the phone calls …’

I’ve given him an in. All he has to do now is step up and take it. I can’t take my eyes off the gravel path. My heart is beating furiously and it has nothing to do with the running.

After a long silence, Paul says, ‘It doesn’t matter now.’

I look up at him in shock. ‘What do you mean, it doesn’t matter? Of course it matters. You must have phoned me about fifty times.’

‘And you must have ignored me about fifty times,’ he snaps back quickly.

We seem to have reached another impasse. The sweat is starting to dry on my skin, making me cold and shivery. Don’t leave it like this, the sensible voice in my head is saying. Try one more time.

I cross my arms over my chest, then uncross them again immediately. No defensive body language. Instead I step forward slightly so I’m close enough to see the shadow of his eyelashes on his cheeks. This is going to be really, really hard. But not doing it would be harder.

‘I’ve never told you this before, Paul, although I’m thinking that there is a part of you that must already know. I had a terrible crush on you at school. I was in love with you, really had it bad, as bad as it gets. But the truth is, even though I thought it had gone away when I grew up and we became friends, it never did. I love you. I’ve always loved you. And I think – I think you might feel the same way about me.’

God, that was hard. But it’s out there now, no going back. I risk a glance upwards at his face again. If anything I’ve said has registered it doesn’t show. His expression is as impassive as before. No wonder he’s a good poker player.

Maybe he didn’t hear me. Maybe he couldn’t take it in after everything that’s happened.

‘What I’m saying, Paul, is that I’m in love with you, although I didn’t know it for a long time, because obviously if I had I would have done something about it sooner. You were there all the time, right under my nose, but I didn’t see it. I mean, you take it for granted, don’t you, what’s there in front of you? You don’t realise what’s really important until it’s gone. Like all the stuff I lost in the fire. I thought all that was important for a while. I thought I’d never be happy again until I replaced every last thing ...

‘But now I know I was wrong – all that stuff doesn’t mean anything, it’s totally worthless. You joked about how I’d probably save my fridge-freezer before my family photos, Paul, and maybe you were right – then. But I’ve learned a lot in these last few months. I’ve learned what really matters. And what matters is… what matters is…’

I take a deep breath. This is all getting away from me somehow. I need to get it back on track.

‘Once I realised how I felt about you I tried to let you know. And it didn’t go down too well, did it? I was embarrassed, it was hard to be rejected. But then I started to see that maybe you did feel something for me, and we started to get closer and it was great. Really great. But all the time it was like all you could see were the other people in my life, people like John Dean and Joshua – people who weren’t important. You weren’t seeing me. And you were punishing me for things I hadn’t even done. It was – unfair.’

I wish he’d say something back instead of letting me prattle on. But Paul seems to be made of stone. I honestly don’t think he has moved a single muscle since I started talking. I am shivering now and I just know that my nipples are sticking out ridiculously. Not that Paul is the kind of man to comment on a thing like that. Which is one of the reasons I love him so much.

‘Paul.’ I try hard to keep the note of pleading out of my voice. ‘I’m sorry it all got messed up, I really am. Yes, I was a bit confused about John Dean at first. And yes, I am friends with Joshua, but that’s all it will ever be. I know my priorities were all over the place for a while. And we’ve both been too stubborn to sort it out. But I know now that the one thing in my life that I can’t live without is you.’

In my whole life I have never said anything so clichéd. But I have an idea that when something is true it ceases to be a cliché. I watch his beautiful face and I wait, feeling as though time has stopped.

Here, by the side of the lake, with the goose poo giving off nose-curling fumes at our feet, I wait. But Paul just stands there looking over my head across the water, like a marble statue with a face carved out of granite. The early morning sun highlights his cheekbones and makes his blue eyes shaded and unreadable. Time stretches out.

A woman with a dog walks past, moving onto the grass to give us a wide berth.

This is useless.

I turn and start back towards the car park, trying to run but mainly just stumbling. My legs are made of wood. And I never noticed before how tears sting your eyes – are they made out of acid or something? Just to punish you that little bit more.