My Legendary Girlfriend (29 page)

I called her back. Her boyfriend answered.

‘Is Aggi there?’ I asked, completely unsure of what it was I was going to say to her.

‘She’s in the bathroom. Look, who is this? Is this Will?’

There was little point in lying. ‘Yes.’

‘You’ve really upset her, you offensive piece of crap. I’ve a good mind to come round to your place and beat some politeness into you.’

I lost the plot. ‘You don’t know what an evil bitch she is. You don’t know. But you will. You’ll find out when she sleeps with your rugby playing mates. She’s probably already started on the scrum half. Then it’ll be the tight head prop, then the loose head, then the hooker, then the wingers, then the full back . . . what am I talking about? She’s probably had ’em all by now, one after the other. Yeah, she’ll be starting on the opposing team next . . .’

I didn’t hear what he had to say in reply. I slammed down the phone. It was an evil, spiteful thing to do but I didn’t care – just like she didn’t care about me. My eyes locked on the scrap of paper where I’d written Aggi’s number. I picked it up and moved to the kitchen, pulling her photo down off the wall as I passed. Turning on a cooker ring I simultaneously set fire to the photo and her phone number. As the flames licked their way up to my fingers I let the ash fall in the sink, watching the fragment embers until they burned out. I half expected the fire alarm to come on but it didn’t. I turned on the tap. Soggy jet black ash blocked up the plughole.

To celebrate my freedom, I lit another Marlboro Light, opened the window and sat on the ledge even though it was drizzling outside. I wanted to feel like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders but I felt exactly the opposite. I’d always secretly credited myself with a little bit of intelligence. I thought I was smarter than the average bear. So it came as a bit of a shock to discover that I was as much of a mug as anyone else.

Ash fell onto my leg. I made a move to flick it off but didn’t bother because it didn’t hurt.

After a while it got too cold on the ledge, my jeans were soaked through to my underwear and I could barely see out of my glasses. Back inside and lying in bed under the duvet, I wondered what Aggi was thinking about this very second. She must have thought I was mad calling her out of the blue after three years. She was half right, I suppose, I did call because of my birthday. Maybe it was the symmetry of it all. A reunion three years after she dumped me would’ve fitted in well with my romantic view of her. What a gal, eh? Comes back to me on the anniversary that she chucked me away – now that’s what I call stylish. I wanted to blame someone but the only person here was me. I sat down and did some calculations. Three years I’d spent wishing she’d come back to me – roughly 11.5 per cent of my life. I searched the room for a suitable metaphor and spied a half drunk can of Coke. It took a while but I calculated that 11.5 per cent of a 330ml can of Coke was – roughly speaking – three mouthfuls!
Sodding sod! I’ve wasted three mouthfuls of the only can of Coke I’m ever going to get!

In the bathroom, the light on and the extractor fan in full swing, I gave myself a pep talk. Half talking to my Audrey Hepburn poster and half talking to the mirror above the toilet, I told myself that this was it. I wasn’t going to take life lying down any more. Nothing was going to stop me from doing all the things I talked about doing but always found an excuse for never bringing to fruition. For the last three years I’d been living in a state of limbo. I’d been going to the same places, hanging out with the same people, listening to the same music – doing the same everything as a living monument to Aggi. I’d become chief curator in the National Museum of Ex-Girlfriends. I was stuck in the past unable to get on with the future because everything I ever wanted
was
in the past. No. Enough is definitely e-sodding-nough.

Back in the main room, I lit another cigarette, and stood on the bed to get as close as I could to the smoke alarm. Taking a deep drag, I blew right into the sensor and under the cover of the siren I yelled: ‘Things are going to change!’

5.30 P.M.

My hands trembled as I picked up the phone. I didn’t know why, really – there was nothing to be nervous about at all. I’d already envisioned what would happen: I’d say hello, she’d say hello, we’d talk about life, the universe and everything; I’d make some facetious comment that would make her laugh; we’d have a good time; I’d forget all about Aggi. I’d feel human again.

‘Hello?’

‘Er, hello, is that Kate?’ I asked an unfamiliar voice.

‘No, it’s her flatmate. Who’s this?’

‘Oh, it’s Will,’ I said, taken aback. It hadn’t occurred to me that Kate’s flatmate ever answered the phone. ‘Is she there?’

‘Oh, you’re the guy she’s been talking to all weekend,’ said Paula, lacing her voice with mock surprise. ‘She’s off her tree, is that one. She’s been talking about you non-stop. I’m surprised she didn’t pick up the phone herself, she’s been hovering by it all afternoon. You said you’d phone her back straight away, you lying sod. Tell me, why
are
men so crap?’

If Kate’s flatmate was trying to embarrass me she was doing a particularly good job of it. The thought of someone this shallow being conversant with the intimacies of mine and Kate’s relationship annoyed me greatly; she was sullying the beautiful thing we’d created. I grew impatient. ‘I don’t know why men are so crap. I only know why I’m crap. Could you put her on, please?’

‘You’re keen,’ said Paula, clearly pleased to discover she was capable of winding me up. ‘That’s a good quality in a man. Have you got any friends?’ Not a single decent witty comeback or insult came to my lips, my wittiest barbed comment: ‘Oh, just sod off, will you?’ seemed rusty and dull in comparison.

‘Paula!’ yelled Kate. ‘Get off the extension, will you?’ Paula giggled maniacally. ‘Stop teasing him.’

I let out a sigh of relief. ‘Hi, Kate?’

‘Yeah, it’s me,’ she replied. ‘Sorry to have put you through all of that. Paula’s in a bit of a mad mood today. Must be something to do with the moon.’

Kate’s voice sounded magical, as if it had the power to do whatever she commanded, and right at this moment she had told it to provide me with comfort. I felt like I’d been rescued from the clutches of an evil dragon by a knightess in shining armour. If it had been possible for her to have lifted me up in her arms and carried me to safety, I honesty believe I couldn’t have thought of anything I wanted more at this very moment. I took a deep breath.

‘Kate, will you marry me?’

‘You what?’

I cleared my throat needlessly, hoping that a simple cough would somehow steel my reserve.

‘I said, will you marry me? I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and I’ve worked out two things: one is that I love you and the other is that I have to act on this new feeling as soon as possible.’

She laughed nervously. ‘Are you joking? Because if you are, Will, it’s not funny.’

‘I am not joking.’ My heart smiled as I paused. ‘I’ve never been more serious in my life. I decided this afternoon that I love you, it’s as simple as that. You’ve changed my life, Kate, you’ve changed my life more than anyone I’ve ever met. I need you. I know it sounds melodramatic but it’s true.’ I bit my lip. I had a lot more to say but I was scared of overwhelming her like I’d done thirteen years ago with Vicki Hollingsworth. ‘Look, you don’t have to answer me right now if you don’t want to . . .’

‘How long have I got to think about it?’ interrupted Kate, her voice barely audible.

‘Three minutes.’

We both laughed.

‘Okay,’ said Kate still giggling. ‘Synchronise watches . . . now!’

For the duration of the three minutes we were silent, lost in a world where only we existed. I listened intently each and every time she inhaled or exhaled. At one point I nearly broke out in laughter, when, for the second time this weekend, I thought about a Sting song, ‘Every Breath You Take.’ For once, a crucial moment in my life wasn’t overwhelmed by thoughts of what might be or might not be. Nothing came in or out from the moment she’d said, ‘Okay’. I was so without grounding, floating out of my body, out of this world’s experience, that it wasn’t until I was well into the second minute that I noticed I hadn’t been breathing – listening to her respire seemed sufficient in itself – and it made me happy.

I looked at my watch. The three minutes were up.

‘Okay,’ said Kate

‘Okay, what?’ I asked hesitantly.

‘Okay, I will marry you.’

‘Are you joking?’

‘No, I’m more serious than
you’ll
ever know,’ laughed Kate. ‘You’re the most important person in the world to me. I love you. Do you know how I want to die? I want to die saving your life.’

I was speechless.

‘Don’t worry, I was only joking,’ she reassured. ‘I do love you though. I spent the afternoon making you a birthday card. Can I read it to you? It’s got a picture of Jimi Hendrix on the front that I cut out of
Q
magazine. I’ve put a speech bubble in his mouth that says, “I say a little prayer for you”. Inside, it says “Dear Will, Happy Birthday. My prayer for you is that I hope you never have to spend another birthday without me. Ever yours, K.”’

I was touched, the thought of her cutting things out and gluing them down solely for my benefit brought tears to my eyes.

‘Thanks. It’s a really nice thought.’ I looked around my room despairingly. ‘I’m just sorry I haven’t got anything to give you.’

‘I’ve got you,’ said Kate. ‘What else does a girl need?’ She paused as if she’d run out of words. ‘So what do we do now?’

‘I don’t know, I hadn’t planned this far ahead.’ I stood up and paced around the edge of the room as far as the telephone cord would allow. ‘I suppose we should tell our parents.’

‘My mum will be overjoyed,’ said Kate. ‘I spent the whole of my teens telling her I’d never get married and look what you’ve made me do. My dad will be impressed too. He’s never liked any of my old boyfriends but I know he’ll like you. I just know he will.’

I gazed out of the window. A thin covering of grey dirt coated the pane. The garden was overrun with tall yellow flowered weeds and stinging nettles. Next door’s dog was nowhere to be seen. I could hear kids playing football but couldn’t see where they were. ‘Both my folks will be pretty stunned,’ I said quietly. ‘My mum will think that . . . well . . . you know . . .’ I paused, embarrassed at the thought of being accused of getting someone pregnant for the second time this weekend. ‘How’s that for irony? I’ve got you in the club and we’ve never even shaken hands.’

‘What do you think all this business on the phone has been about?’ said Kate earnestly. ‘I know more about you, and feel closer and more intimate with you, than any boyfriend I’ve ever had, even my ex. I’ve seen the real you, Will. You didn’t bother putting on an act because you thought you’d never meet me! What kind of bloke on the pull starts off by talking about his ex-girlfriend?’

‘I suppose you’re right,’ I said, wishing she hadn’t mentioned Aggi. Just thinking about her made me feel sick. I changed the subject. ‘We’ve still got to come up with a plan. Where are we going to live and all that?’

‘It doesn’t matter. I’ll come to London . . .’

I stopped her there. I didn’t fancy staying here at all.

Samuel Johnson said: ‘When a man is tired of London he is tired of life . . .’, I thought to myself. He was only half right. I was tired of This Life, and with Kate I’d have the chance of resurrection and redemption.

‘No, I’ll come to Brighton first thing in the morning,’ I said. ‘I’ve always fancied living by the sea. I’ll hand in my notice. I’ll say I’ve had a bit of a mental breakdown or something. It won’t be too hard to convince them.’

‘Okay, whatever makes you happy. Paula’s going off on a course in Cheltenham for the week so we’ll have the flat to ourselves. What do you like to eat?’

Her question took me by surprise. I was about to say anything with pasta in it but I held back because I didn’t know if she liked Italian food. But deep down this was bigger than pasta dishes, this was about fate. I knew that if I said pasta and she didn’t like it I’d interpret it as some sort of sign from above that we were completely and utterly incompatible.

‘Anything,’ I lied. ‘I’m not fussed really.’

She paused, audibly mulling it over. ‘Okay, I think I’ll make you tagliatelli in a spicy tomato sauce. I love it.’

Before I had a chance to register my delight a flood of thoughts erupted from the ground, smashing through the mental dam I had erected. I needed to know she was as serious as I was. ‘Look, are you sure you want to do this?’

‘Of course I’m sure,’ said Kate, so surely, so steadfastly, so assuredly, that I felt the kind of admiration for her normally reserved for pensioners reminiscing over Winston Churchill’s ‘Fight them on the beaches’ speech. ‘I’m even surer than you are,’ she continued. ‘Just because you’ve been with someone, say, ten years, doesn’t mean that your marriage is any more likely to succeed than if you met and married someone ten minutes ago. There’s no way that you can accurately predict the future, so why bother trying?’

‘But you can reduce the odds of everything going a bit pear-shaped, can’t you?’ I said, nervously. Next door’s dog barked wildly. The palms of my hands began to sweat at an alarming rate. I wiped them on my jeans but within seconds they were literally dripping with perspiration again.

‘Everything about love is random,’ said Kate calmly. ‘So why try and bring order to it? It’s not worth worrying about. I know we could just move in together and that would make everything much easier, but it works both ways. It’s easier to walk out, it’s easier to be unfaithful, it’s easier for everything to just disappear. If I’m going to invest my emotions in another human being again then I’m going to make sure if it doesn’t work out it’ll be the messiest, most savage divorce ever.’

‘Like
The War of the Roses
,’ I joked. ‘Kathleen Turner’s finest performance.’