How We Met (44 page)

‘You didn’t tell me,’ said Melody. But then you don’t tell me everything. I’ve realized that about you.’

Norm laughed through his nose. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘So what’s on this list?’ said Fraser. ‘Come on, I’m interested now.’

‘Learn to dive,’ said Norm. ‘Finish that song we started, do a stand-up comedy gig, loads of things …’

Mia leant back in her chair and folded her arms.

‘And have you actually done any of those things?’ she said. ‘I mean, with all due respect, Norm, you’re six months off thirty, and have you actually done any of the things from your list?’

Norm coughed.

‘Well, no, I haven’t
yet
.’

Mia downed her wine. Speeches weren’t really her thing, but she felt compelled now. This was down to her.

‘Well, I rest my case,’ she said, flopping back in her seat.

‘Your case for what?’ said Melody. ‘Aren’t I supposed to be doing the cases for things?’

‘Do we really feel,’ she said, and, as she spoke, she was aware her heart was thumping; that this felt more controversial, more scary than it had in her head, ‘that if Liv had survived, she’d have done the things on the List, anyway? Gone to Vegas, learnt a language? That she’d even remember she wrote it?’

The room fell silent.

‘She wrote this List a year before she died, and to my knowledge she didn’t do one thing on it. Would anyone like to contest that fact? Does anyone know if she did even one of the tasks?’

They all looked at one another.

‘Because please speak up if you do.’

She was met with only silence.

They walked back towards the hotel, arm in arm along the moonlit streets, busy now with weekend revellers, lots of men with paunches and striped shirts who looked as if they played a lot of golf. And girls with pulled-back black hair and not much in the way of clothes.

The plan was to go to the wharf and light the birthday cakes at a bar on the waterfront.

Mia was linking arms with Melody, Fraser with Norm: ‘You love each other, you do,’ said Melody, walking behind them. ‘You should get it together – just the right heights, too.’ Their laughter echoed in the mild night air.

Mia felt bonded and close and secure. The wine helped, but also her point about the List. They’d all been quick to say how nutty Anna had got this year, how the List had fucked her up, but when they’d looked at it, they were screwed too. Nobody had come away unscathed, but then perhaps it was just that they needed to do the List to see their lives were pretty screwed in the first place.

If Liv had survived, chances are she wouldn’t have bothered going to Venice because, let’s face it, she would have been far too busy living her life. And they’d all made a pact inside that soulless, odd, business-like dining room, that that’s what they’d do too from now on.

‘Don’t you think we should call Anna? Tell her that we’re doing the candles and her cake?’ said Mia, as they stood in front of the hotel.

They all tried her mobile but she didn’t answer.

‘Ah, leave her,’ said Fraser. ‘She’s probably drunk, or asleep. We’ll light a candle for her.’

So they walked down the passageway at the side of the hotel and crossed the mini-suspension bridge to the other side of the canal. There they found a modern, dome-shaped bar, right on the waterfront, with bright orange chairs, aqua leather sofas and lots of white chiffon.

‘A little Ibiza in Leeds,’ said Fraser, and it was as if it was OK to say it now, that her death was not the only memory they’d ever share.

They got drinks at the bar – pints of lager for Mia and Fraser, cider for Melody and Norm – and huddled together under the heaters on the wicker furniture outside, the lights from the buildings opposite glowing in the dark
.

Fraser took the cakes and candles out of the bags he’d been carrying and set them on the table in front of them. ‘Right, who’s got a lighter?’ he said, and it was only then that they realized that none of them smoked any more.

They got matches from the barman, and Melody lined up the candles. One, two, three boxes were opened; she counted them out on the table and began to put them on the cakes.

‘How many are you putting on?’ said Mia.

‘Well, thirty,’ said Melody. ‘Is that OK?’

Mia looked at Fraser – he spoke before she did: ‘Don’t put thirty on,’ he said, quietly. ‘Just put a random number … eight, five whatever.’

‘Okaaay …’ Melody frowned, taking them off.

‘Well, it’s morbid, isn’t it?’ said Fraser. ‘Because she didn’t make it to thirty. She wouldn’t want that.’

Melody nodded slowly in silent agreement. ‘OK, I’ll do six,’ she said. ‘Five of us, one for Liv.’

Slowly, she placed three on Norm’s cake and three on Anna’s, then she struck the match. It smelled delicious, thought Fraser, like Bonfire Night in the winter air.

There was a moment’s silence. Singing ‘Happy Birthday’ was out of the question now, and everything else seemed to have been said.

‘Well, make a wish, I guess,’ said Fraser, eventually, and they all closed their eyes and blew the candles out.

They sat there, watching the lights flicker on the water,
one of them occasionally saying something, the rest of the time suspended in the sort of silence that only very old friends find comfortable. Eventually, Melody and
Norm went back inside to get more drinks. Fraser and
Mia remained sitting outside.

Neither of them said anything for a while. Fraser idly struck a match and relit some of the candles, and they sat like that, watching the flames.

Then Fraser spoke.

‘Thank you, Mia,’ he said.

‘For what?’ she said, genuinely confused.

‘For what you said in the restaurant; for putting an end to the List, basically. I’ve been thinking the same too, for a long time now. I just didn’t have the guts to say so.’

Mia gave a little shiver; she had glittery make-up on and it shimmered in the candlelight. Fraser thought she looked ridiculously pretty.

Mia took a match and lit another candle.

‘You should have more confidence,’ she said. ‘Trust your instincts.’

‘I do, I have,’ said Fraser. ‘Look …’

And just then, maybe because everything seemed perfect – the candlelight, the water, Fraser
knew
he had to get this right. For once in his life, he could not fuck this up.

‘… whatever you think about what happened with Emilia—’

Mia put a finger to her lips. ‘Shh,’ she said.

‘No, honestly, let me finish.’

Fraser brought his chair closer, leant around the candles and took one of her hands in his.

‘I didn’t sleep with her,’ he said. ‘And I never would have done. Not because she was scary or wore leather underwear …’

Nope, he couldn’t do it without joking – just a little.

‘But because of where my head was.’ He paused. ‘
Is
…’

Mia took a deep breath in and smiled at him.

‘And where
is
your head, Fraser?’

He took her hand, put it to his mouth and kissed it. ‘Well, it’s—’

‘Jesus,
can you two smell smoke?’ Just at that moment, Melody and Norm appeared, holding drinks. ‘Is the cake on fire?’ said Norm. ‘Something’s burning …’

And it was only then that they turned, to see great clouds of smoke billowing from a building opposite.

Fraser stood to his feet. ‘The fucking hotel’s on fire,’ he said, calmly at first and then much louder. ‘OUR HOTEL’S ON FIRE!’

And then it was as if they all had the same hideous thought at the same time. Oh, God. Not again.

‘Jesus Christ,
Anna …’

They all ran like lightning across the suspension bridge, just as the fire alarm started wailing. They could hear the shocked cries and
ooh
s and
ahh
s of people from the other bars around them. Guests were already being evacuated from the hotel, scores of alarmed, bemused, irritated faces, people in pyjamas and dressing gowns, people dressed for dinner.

They all squeezed into the small revolving doors of the entrance, getting stuck in one compartment, swearing, panicking.

The officious manager was in the lobby, a voice of calm, the face of barely concealed panic.

‘Everyone out, please, everyone stay calm,’ he was saying, ushering people with an officious hand. ‘Everyone stay calm, the fire brigade are on their way.’

Fraser grabbed his arm. ‘Where’s the fire? Where’s the fire coming from? You have to tell me where the fire’s coming from.’

‘The second floor,’ said the man, without even looking at him.

‘Fuck, Anna’s on the second floor. Our friend’s on the second floor!’

The man continued ushering people out with his arm, but Fraser was running around now, hands on his head in panic. ‘Anna!’ he was shouting, his mouth dry, his heart threatening to leap out of his chest. ‘Anna, Jesus Christ, where are you?’

The girls – Melody and Mia – were frantically trying to call her mobile. Norm was talking to people outside.

‘Yeah, I think she was drunk,’ Fraser could hear him saying. ‘Yeah. she would definitely have been drunk, she’s got long reddish hair, very slim, tall …’

It was all coming back to him, the frenzy, the nightmare.

Not again, he thought. Please, God, not again.

Fraser ran up to the manager. ‘I need to go up,’ he pleaded. ‘We think our friend’s on the second floor, we can’t see her down here.’

Everyone stood behind him. ‘Fraser,’ Norm pleaded, a hand on his shoulder. Fraser shrugged it off. ‘Don’t go, mate. Please. It’s dangerous. Wait for the fire brigade.’

Fraser shrugged it off again, more aggressively this time.

‘NO. I wasn’t there for Liv. I’m not letting another one go.’

The man put his hand out to stop him. ‘Nobody is to go inside,’ he said. ‘Nobody is to go upstairs. Wait until the fire brigade get here, health and safety, I’m afraid, health and safety.’

Fraser saw red.

‘I don’t give a fuck about your health and safety,’ he said, grabbing the guy by the arm and practically dragging him to the side. ‘My friend’s up there.’

Smoke was already drifting above the corridor when Fraser got to the second floor. He couldn’t remember which room Anna was in. Why hadn’t he asked what room she was in? He hammered on every door. ‘Anna! Anna!’

The fumes were really getting to him now, at the back of his nose and his throat, making him cough.

He covered his mouth with his sleeve, stopping for a second to recover himself. Outside he could hear sirens wailing. They made his blood run cold.

Then he saw her, or rather heard her; she was backed into a corner of the corridor, a tiny figure, crouched down on the floor, the phone in her hand.

‘Anna,
Jesus
…
’

He scrambled towards her, pulling her up by her arms, like a rag doll. She was as light as one and shaking uncontrollably.

‘My room’s on fire,’ was all she could say, clinging to him, clawing him. ‘My room’s on fire, Fraser. My room’s on fire!’

There were two fire engines and two ambulances in all. Fraser joked it was hardly
Holby City
. Anna sat in the back of one of them now, wrapped in a blanket, hyperventilating and hysterical.

She’d been very lucky, the paramedics said. If Fraser hadn’t got her when he did, there might not have been ‘the same happy outcome’, and they all knew what that meant.

She’d got drunk and fallen asleep, the window had been left open and the wind had caught the flame of a candle, setting the curtains on fire.

Thankfully, the smoke alarm had roused her and she’d
got out of the room before the fire spread but if she’d
been left much longer …

Only two people were allowed in the ambulance with her, so Fraser and Mia sat with her while the other two huddled outside.

Anna was crying, rocking backwards and forwards, her breathing fast and short. ‘I’m sorry,’ she kept saying. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘She’s just in shock,’ said the paramedic, attaching something to her finger, apparently to test her heart rate. ‘She’s having a little panic attack, aren’t you, Anna? Come on, now, you’re all right.’ She had a seen-it-all-before approach and a strong Yorkshire accent. ‘Deep breaths. Good girl.’

‘Deep breaths,’ they all said. Even Norm and Melody outside. ‘Deep breaths, Span. We’re all here.’

What went unsaid
, though, was that they knew instinctively that this was an Anna-created drama, a drama to block out what was really going on; it’s just that nobody could fathom exactly what that was.

Fraser squeezed Anna’s hand and looked around him. Something told him people weren’t supposed to go through this twice in their lives. That just doing
this
twice – the ambulances, the sirens, the flashing blue, revolving lights – was more than enough for one lifetime.

He looked at his friend: a little smoke inhalation but
here
, not even having to go to hospital, and for a terrifying millisecond the ‘what-ifs’ seemed to grab him by the throat, before retreating and leaving a wave of gratitude, so big that he had to put his face to the window, so nobody saw him cry.

Anna was ridiculously drunk; more drunk than Fraser had ever seen her. More drunk than vain, confident Anna usually allowed herself to get. But then this wasn’t vain, confident Anna. This was scared Anna, this was Anna at crisis point; her own, self-made crisis, perhaps, but in crisis all the time.

She started talking: ‘I saw it,’ she kept saying, but she was crying and shaking so much that for the first few times nobody took much notice.

‘I saw you,’ she said now, louder and more urgently this time.

It was Fraser who eventually said, ‘You saw what, Anna? Who? What are you on about?’

‘You kiss. I saw you kiss. The night Liv died, I saw you
kiss
Mia. I was standing on the balcony and I saw you, in
the villa kitchen.’

Nobody said anything, except Norm who said, ‘Yer
what
?’ as if this was actually pretty ridiculous.