His 'n' Hers (33 page)

I’m just about to tell Marian the next instalment of the saga when I look up and spot Helen heading down the plane towards us.

‘It’s Helen,’ I say, panicking, ‘my girlfriend! She’s coming down the plane.’

‘What are you worrying about?’ asks Marian. ‘It’s not like she’s got supersonic hearing, is it?’

‘Good point,’ I say, trying to calm down, even though I can see her getting closer by the second. ‘What’s going to be our cover story? I’ll tell you what. You were just sitting next to me and you asked me what the time was and I told you and that was that.’ Marian laughs. ‘You can’t laugh,’ I tell her. ‘Helen will know I’ve made you laugh and then—’ It’s too late, she’s here.

‘Hey, babe,’ she says, standing in the aisle. ‘The turbulence woke me up so I thought I’d come and stretch my legs and see you.’

‘I came up earlier to see you but you were fast asleep.’

I can feel Marian looking at me expectantly, waiting for an introduction.

‘This is Marian,’ I say hesitantly.

‘Your boyfriend has been keeping me company,’ she explains. ‘I know his entire life story.’

Helen laughs, then gives me a secret look as if to say, ‘Oh, no, you’ve got the nutter, after all.’ Then she turns to Marian and says, ‘I bet you know more than me—’

Fortunately she’s cut short by the pilot requesting passengers to return to their seats as there’s more turbulence coming up.

‘I’d better go,’ says Helen. She blows me a kiss, then mouths the word ‘Sorry’, and says aloud, ‘I’ll see you a bit later.’

I breathe a deep sigh of relief.

‘Hot towelettes?’ asks the stewardess, interrupting my flow once again. Fortunately I’d all but finished telling Marian the story of me and Alison. All that remained was what happened after we sold the flat and our meeting a month ago.

‘No, thanks,’ I reply, but Marian takes one so, for no reason at all, I change my mind. ‘I’ll have one, actually,’ I say, as the stewardess passes one with plastic tongs to the bloke next to me. She hands me a towelette so scaldingly hot I’m sure I can smell my flesh singeing.

‘Am I fully up to date with your story now?’ asks Marian.

‘Not quite,’ I reply. ‘There’s just one thing left, really. It’s the reason why I’m not sleeping and why I can’t think straight. It’s the reason why I’m telling you my story.’

‘What happened?’

‘Of course I’ll go into more detail if you want me to, but in a nutshell it was this. The cat I bought Alison ten years ago died and she called to let me know. I went to the vet’s with her, to keep her company, and we went for a drink afterwards. And during an afternoon of talking, it felt like we were the only two people in North London, I felt like we reconnected to such an extent that the last four years hadn’t happened. And as we said goodbye, we kissed, and for her I think it was just a momentary slip but for me it was everything. That’s why I’m not sleeping. I’m still in love with my ex-wife.’

‘So what are you going to do?’ asks Marian, now that my narrative has drawn to a conclusion. ‘You’ve admitted you still love her. And if she’s getting married today this is going to be your last chance.’

‘To do what?’ I reply, as the man next to me opens the blind on the cabin window. ‘To tell her not to marry the man she’s been happily living with?’ I pause and look out of the window. ‘Let’s look at what really happened, Marian. Alison and I spent an afternoon together and we got a bit sentimental because our cat died.’

‘But you kissed her.’

‘But that’s it – it was just a kiss. I can’t change my entire life for a kiss. Helen’s supposed to be moving in with me today. I really can’t imagine that when I get off this plane I’m going to split up with Helen and travel all the way to Warwickshire, or wherever it is she’s getting married, to beg her to reconsider just because I’ve had some sort of epiphany. I don’t live in Hollywood, Marian. I live in East Finchley. Things like that don’t happen in East Finchley.’

‘Well, maybe they ought to,’ says Marian, with a smile. ‘Today is Valentine’s Day after all. If things like that can happen in the real world then a day designed for lovers must be the best day for it.’

I’m about to reply when I’m interrupted by the pilot over the intercom. He informs us that we’ll be landing at Heathrow in twenty minutes.

‘Regret is a terrible thing,’ continues Marian. ‘I can’t think of anything much worse than knowing you had the power to change a sad event into a happy one and choosing not to do so.’

There’s a long silence, and as I look out of the cabin window again I catch my first glimpse of the sun.

‘You’re right,’ I reply sadly. ‘Absolutely right. But this isn’t about me, is it? It’s about Alison and her wedding day. The last time she got married there were only three people there to witness it and it didn’t work out. Today she’s getting married again and she’s going to do it right this time. I know she will. And this guy she’s marrying, I’m one hundred per cent sure he loves her. And that he’ll care for her. And that he’ll never leave her – which is the most important thing of all.’

I’m sitting in the back of a black cab on my way to Alison’s house. It has been a month since the wedding, and although I haven’t seen or heard from her since the day Disco died, I’m assuming they’ll be back from wherever they’ve been on honeymoon. I’m hoping that Alison still likes a lie-in on a Saturday morning. I’m going to drop off a wedding present – my small way of saying congratulations to them and wishing them well. I’ve already decided that even if they do ask me to come in out of politeness I’m going to decline. I don’t want to make a big deal of it. I just want to hand it over and leave, especially as any conversation they might have with me is bound to include some variation on the question: ‘How is life treating you?’ To which, if I’m going to be truthful, I’ll have to answer that I’ve been a lot better but thanks for asking.

Helen and I split up. It happened the day we came back from Chicago. It wasn’t nice. It didn’t make me feel great. But it was definitely the right thing to do. I told her she deserved someone better than me. And she said she didn’t want someone better than me. So then I explained that even if she didn’t want to be with someone better than me at the very least she must want someone who isn’t still in love with his ex-wife. Because she’d already handed in her notice on her flat, I let her stay at mine until she found somewhere else to go. Fortunately she did so a week later. I haven’t seen her since, and I don’t think I’m likely to hear from her again as I strongly suspect that I’ll always be – at least in her mind – the man who dumped his girlfriend on Valentine’s Day. When I told Nick what had happened he looked at me as if I was stupid and said, ‘Why didn’t you wait until the day after?’

‘Because,’ I replied, ‘the best time to do the right thing is always right now.’ I could tell he didn’t understand and I wasn’t all that sure I did either. All I knew was that Marian had been right. Even if Hollywood endings don’t happen in East Finchley, the world would indeed be a richer place if they did. And although at Heathrow I hadn’t jumped into a cab and asked the driver to take me to Warwickshire because I had a wedding to stop, I knew I had to take action of sorts. And I’m pretty sure that if none of the events of the past few months (Disco dying, my meeting up with Alison and, most importantly, our talk in the pub) had happened I would still be quite happily with Helen. I’m sure we would’ve been great together. Maybe we would’ve got married and even had kids. But those things
had
happened. And they had changed me for ever. Because from the moment Alison and I had kissed on the day Disco died, I had known the biggest mistake I’d ever made in my life was leaving her. Alison was the best I was ever going to get. And being with anyone else didn’t compare.

‘It’s this block here on the left,’ I say, indicating to the cab driver to pull over. I get out of the car, making sure to take my wedding present with me. ‘Can you just hang on a few moments?’ I ask, checking his clock, then handing him a twenty-pound note. ‘I’m only going to be a few minutes.’ He nods, turns off his engine and gets out his copy of the
Daily Mirror
.

Turning my attention to the job in hand, I take a deep breath, walk to Alison’s apartment block and ring the buzzer. My heart begins to race as I imagine meeting Marcus for the first time. I wonder what he’ll think when he sees his wife’s ex-husband standing on the doorstep holding a wedding present a month after the event. I decide it doesn’t bear thinking about. Whatever happens will happen.

‘Hello?’ comes a familiar-sounding female voice from the intercom.

‘Hi,’ I reply. ‘Is that Alison?’

‘No, it’s Jane. I’m a friend of Alison’s. She’s just gone to the shops. Who is it? Your voice sounds familiar.’