Happy Endings (6 page)

‘And you think travelling is just for kids? Some immature rite of passage?’

‘Honestly, yes. It’s what young people do to avoid work, but we already have careers, a proper life, and we can’t just throw that away because you’ve got itchy feet . . .’

‘For fuck’s sake, Ed. Young people, itchy feet, that’s all you think this is? I’ve wanted to travel since I was a teenager and you said we would, remember?’

‘Calm down, Kate, please. Look, if you want to do something we can go away for a few days over Christmas . . .’

‘I don’t want a fucking minibreak, Ed. I want to see the world.’

‘But why do we have to take a year off to do it? Why do I have to give up my job?’

‘Because it’s turning you into a boring old fart, Ed, that’s why and if we don’t do this, I don’t know if we’ll make it.’

‘Oh, here she goes with the emotional blackmail.’

‘It’s not emotional blackmail, Ed, it’s the truth.’

‘Well if I’m such a boring old fart, maybe you should go without me.’

‘Maybe I will.’

‘Good,’ barked Ed.

And that was it. The year was whittled down to six months, but Ed still wouldn’t come. He didn’t see the point. I loved him dearly, but why couldn’t he see it from my perspective? Why couldn’t he realise he was becoming exactly the sort of boorish bloke he used to openly mock? Why couldn’t he leave his shitty job for me? Why didn’t he want to travel and see the world? I suppose what it all boiled down to was – why couldn’t he be more like Jez?

To: Emma Fogle

From: Kate Jones

Subject: I made it!

Em,

I made it! I’m here! The first email from my trip. This is so strange. It reminds me of university when you were in Bristol and I was in London and we used to email each other all the time. Remember how far away that felt? Now I’m in Thailand and you’re in London and it’s even further. I hate being apart from you. I’m going to miss our weekly get-togethers, our chats on the phone, Starbucks on Saturday. Any chance you could pop on a plane and visit? I’m sure Jack wouldn’t mind.

How did the film meeting go? Did you get the part? I have a feeling you did. Shit, Em, imagine if you did and then you became this super-famous film star? My best mate the film star. That would be so crazy. You deserve it though. Just make sure you take me on a few red carpets with you! Did you meet Rhys Connelly? Is he as sexy in real life? I bet he is.

I guess I should tell you something about Thailand. I suppose first I should tell you about Jez. There’s a boy, of course. It isn’t like that though. He rescued me from the airport when I was on the verge of a breakdown. He’s good-looking, but far too young for any shenanigans. Anyway, as you know, I didn’t come away for that sort of thing. I came away for me. And thank you by the way for pushing me and pushing me to do this. It’s terrifying and scary and I’ve probably cried or almost cried more in the last few days than I ever have, but I’m glad I’m here. I just wish you were here too! I wish Ed, you and Jack were all here.

Thailand, well Bangkok I should say, is crazy. One moment it sort of feels like you’re just in a big city and then you see an elephant walking down the street! It’s so weird. It’s really helped having Jez by my side. He seems to know what he’s doing and he takes me off on crazy adventures every day. He’s made the transition easier, especially because I had such a hard time on the plane after leaving you all at the airport and with Ed being, well, Ed. How was he after I left?

I’m still getting my bearings but every day it gets a bit easier. I’m a little homesick and suddenly six months feels like the longest time in the world. It’s also really weird sleeping in a room full of strangers when I’m used to having a whole house, but I suppose I’d better get used to that.

I should probably get going. I’m at an Internet cafe and I have no idea how much this is costing and there’s a little Thai man at the register who keeps giving me strange looks. I’m going to try and email you every week, but I can’t promise anything. Jez and I are heading down to the islands in the south of Thailand next week. It feels a bit weird, travelling with a bloke, but he’s the only person I know and we get on really well. Don’t mention anything to Ed if you see him, I don’t want him getting the wrong idea.

Miss you Em.

Love K x

Ed

The house always felt cramped with Kate there. Her bottles of lotion and moisturiser, hair straighteners and curling tongs forever took up most of the space in the bathroom. Our bedroom always had small piles of her clothes lying around, as if some ancient civilisation had put them there, carefully constructed at key points around the room. The lounge was usually cluttered with dog-eared celebrity magazines and the kitchen always contained at least one slightly coffee-stained mug she hadn’t got around to cleaning. But now she was gone, it felt so large. The bathroom was mainly empty, the small piles in the bedroom were gone and the lounge and kitchen were clean and spotless. I hated it.

It was a week after she’d left and I was sitting in the lounge trying to watch television, but my mind kept drifting to Kate. I couldn’t stop myself. Everything reminded me of her. Even things that seemed completely unconnected brought me back to her in some way. During the week I’d kept myself busy at work and I’d had drinks with Georgie, plus a quick wet lunch with Jack, but the weekend was biting and cold.

In the month before she left, Kate had hired out the basement of a pub in Islington for her leaving do. To be honest, I didn’t see the point in a big leaving party. It was only six months, but Kate insisted on it. She wanted to get all of her friends, family and co-workers together so we could rejoice in her decision to leave us for six months and bugger off around the world. I’d been dreading it ever since she told me. It felt like she was rubbing salt into an already gaping wound. People still didn’t understand why I wasn’t going and so I’d spend the entire night fielding questions about what this meant to us? Had we broken up? Was I fine with it? How was it going to work, exactly? And really, why wasn’t I going? The truth was I didn’t know how or if it was going to work. I’d been trying my best to avoid thinking about it and I was still holding out hope she would see sense and not leave.

A few days before the party, I found myself walking past a jewellery shop on Wandsworth High Street and suddenly a plan began to take shape. It was like a mini Big Bang and once it exploded I couldn’t stop the ever-expanding universe of ideas, mapping out a perfect future in my head. I stopped and gazed through the window at all the rings and then I saw a man inside. He was around my age, dressed smartly in a bespoke suit and he was buying a ring. He looked so happy and a bit smug and it struck me straight away. Why didn’t I ask Kate to marry me? I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it before. It would solve everything. I was sure she’d say yes and then maybe she wouldn’t leave or even if she did we’d be engaged instead of just dating and it would mean something. I stopped looking through the window and immediately went into the shop in search of the perfect ring.

By nine o’clock the basement of the pub was heaving. Admittedly, it wasn’t a very big space, but there must have been at least fifty people crammed inside. A decent turnout and I was impressed. I definitely didn’t know fifty people, or at least fifty people I’d actually want to invite to my leaving party. Kate was off dancing with Emma, while Jack and I loitered around the bar getting slowly hammered. I’d been drinking heavily, trying to settle my nerves. The ring box was snuggled inside my jacket pocket; I kept touching it to make sure it was still there. I was terrified, but not because I thought I’d lose the ring, but in case Kate said no. In my head she always said yes. Of course she’d say yes, but there was a tiny amount of doubt. The faintest hint of what if she said no. What then?

‘How’re you doing?’ said Jack.

‘I’ve been better.’

‘I bet. So how’s it going to work then?’

‘Honestly, I have no idea.’

‘Any plans to meet her somewhere for a holiday?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘She mentioned that maybe I could meet her in Sydney, but it’s her time to do what she needs. I don’t want to get in the way.’

‘Aren’t you a bit worried though? I’d be terrified of letting Emma waltz off by herself around the world. You know what backpackers do all day?’

‘Not really. Read books, watch crap TV and get pissed on cheap alcohol probably. Sort of like the first year of university without the lectures.’

‘And what else did you do a lot of during your first year at university?’

I knew where he was going and, of course, I’d thought about it. I looked across at Kate and she looked more beautiful than ever. Her long dark hair was flowing out behind her as she moved effortlessly around the dance floor. She was wearing a red dress that hung low over her shoulders, perfectly accentuated her breasts and ended just above the knee, showing off her long, slim legs. She was gorgeous, but I trusted her and that was the key. I trusted that, no matter what, she’d do the right thing.

‘Study?’ I said with a wry grin.

The music suddenly changed from the Britpop classics the DJ had been playing for the last hour to something a bit slower and romantic. Kate and Emma came stumbling over, giggling and looking for drinks.

‘I’m knackered,’ said Kate, falling into me and putting her arm around my neck.

‘My round,’ said Jack, trying to get the attention of the barman.

It was my time. My heart was beating nineteen to the dozen and I felt nauseous. It was my moment to ask her to be my wife, till death do us part, in sickness and in health and all the rest of it. I’d spent a great deal of time since I bought the ring working out how and where I should do it, but something about her leaving party resonated with me. It felt right. It wasn’t going to be the perfect proposal, but at the end of the day, surely the gesture was the most important thing.

‘Just give us a moment,’ I said, standing up and grabbing Kate by the hand.

‘What are you doing?’ said Kate with an uncertain smile. She probably thought I had a surprise arranged for her, but when I walked her past the DJ and upstairs, she started to look confused. It was also January and quite chilly outside. ‘What’s going on?’

I’d rehearsed the speech in my head a hundred times, but standing there in front of her my mind went completely blank. I had nothing.

‘Ed?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why did you drag me up here in the freezing bloody cold?’

People walked past, hugging themselves and each other. A few cars drove by in slow motion. I couldn’t believe how afraid I was. I just had to do it. I took out the ring box, got down on one knee and looked up at Kate.

‘Kate, I love you so much and this probably isn’t how you thought I’d propose and maybe the timing isn’t the best, but would you do me the honour of being my wife?’

I couldn’t make out the expression on her face. She hadn’t gushed with happiness and screamed ‘Yes!’, which was what I was hoping for, obviously, but she hadn’t run away either. She stood there speechless. Had I made a huge mistake? The threatening cold had dissipated too and all that was left was Kate and me. The rest of the world seemed to evaporate, as if we’d been cut and pasted onto a blank piece of paper. After what seemed like an age, and just as my knees were really beginning to hurt, Kate said, ‘Oh, Ed.’

‘What?’

‘Why are you doing this now? Of all nights, why tonight?’

I had to get up. The moment had come and gone. I’d thrown my heart into the ring and it had been returned slightly battered and a bit bruised.

‘I thought it would be . . .’

‘Romantic?’

‘Yes, sort of.’

‘Well it isn’t, Ed, it’s just . . . I can’t believe you sometimes.’

‘What? What have I done?’

I was completely flabbergasted. I was hoping to get engaged and in my head I imagined an emphatic ‘yes!’ or at the very least a ‘maybe we should wait until I get back’, but I definitely didn’t anticipate anger. ‘It’s emotional blackmail. Get a ring on my finger and I won’t be able to leave on my stupid trip. Was that your big plan?’

‘No, Kate, of course not. I didn’t want you to leave without knowing how I felt.’

‘But why now and why here? It just doesn’t make sense.’

It felt at that moment like nothing really made sense any more. The girl I loved was taking off for six months on a trip that didn’t make any sense. We were standing outside in the freezing cold arguing over a marriage proposal that perhaps didn’t make any sense. I was twenty-nine, almost thirty, and for the first time in as long as I could remember, my life didn’t make any sense.

‘I’m sorry, just forget it,’ I said and I walked back inside.

Jack

Dad died of a heart attack when I was fifteen. Up until that point in his life he’d been healthy, but one day, while Mum and I were out shopping, he had a massive heart attack and that was it. He was gone.

I loved and admired my father. He was a brilliant dad and an amazing man. In his younger days he had excelled at sport and played cricket for his state. In his twenties he started a thriving real estate business and we lived in a large house in Sydney and had everything we wanted. I idolised him. I wanted to be just like him and thought he’d always be there to set the example for me to follow. That was before his heart stopped, and after that I knew better. That’s the trouble when you lose someone at such an early age, it destroys the notion that people are around forever. I’d barely touched adulthood and already I was one parent down. It didn’t seem fair.