One In A Billion (28 page)

'This is a bit of a novelty isn't it?' Toby said, lifting up his glass. 'I promise not to puke on your dress if we get drunk.'

I laughed. 'You know those stains took about a dozen washes to come out. What were you drinking?'

'I don't know', Toby said. 'Cal had little bottles of mixed spirits from his dad's drinks cabinet. Something lethal.'

'Do you keep in touch with anyone?'

'I haven't seen that lot for years', Toby said. 'I think Cal was the last one. I saw him about six years ago. He was working as a labourer at a quarry.'

'Didn't quite make it into geology then?'

'Not quite', Toby said, smiling. 'Last time I heard, Jack was an accountant, doing pretty well for himself and lined up as a future partner in a Cambridge accountancy firm, Clare was working in Tesco, and Lisa, when she finally sobered up, went off to America in search of fame and fortune. I'm not on Facebook, not personally anyway, so I don't really know what they're doing now.'

'What do you mean not personally?'

'I have a page for my art, but that's it', Toby said.

'Still painting?' I asked.

'Yep, still painting. Still drawing on walls.'

Toby smiled.

'Not much has changed there then.'

'Not really. A little bit older. A little bit slower, but still fooling around like a fifteen year old.'

'How are your folks?' I said. 'Are they still in the village?'

'When was the last time you were there?'

'They day we all left', I said.

'You haven't been back?' Toby said. 'Not even once.'

I shook my head. 'I didn't have anything to go back to.'

'My dad died', Toby said.

'Fuck, I'm sorry Toby', I said, and instinctively reached out for his hand. It was the first time we'd touched since that sicky hug all those years ago, and I felt some kind of energy pulse through me. I pulled my hand away quickly again, not sure if I'd crossed some kind of boundary, uncomfortable with the feeling just touching him was producing inside me.

'It's ok, it was a long time ago now. He was pretty sick. You know he wasn't working when you came to the village right?'

'Right.'

'Well lots of people thought that was because he was work shy, or lazy, or too stupid to get a job. He never told me, neither of them did, but it was because he was pretty seriously ill. He got redundancy because of it, but it meant he couldn't work. Finally it overwhelmed him. At the end his whole body was riddled with so much cancer there seemed to be more of that than anything else. He died about a year after you moved away. After that they decided that council flats weren't in keeping with the look of the village and tore them all down. Mum and I got moved to an estate in Arbury, which was great for me for college, but shit in every other possible way.'

'That's fucked up', I said. 'I'm really sorry Toby.'

'Yeah. I could have done with you around at that time, because it hit me pretty hard. It took me a long time to deal with that, and I eventually found myself at a crossroads where I could have gone one of two ways. Do you remember Mr. Benfield?'

'The art teacher?'

'Yep. He was the one who helped me out and got me to turn my life around, and divert all of my energy, rage, anger, fear and depression, and all that other shit I was dealing with into my art work. He became a bit of a mentor to be honest, and without him, god knows where I would have ended up, because I was smoking a lot, and drinking way too much too.'

'So how's it going? The art, I mean.'

'Good', Toby said. 'You know, it doesn't pay much, but I love it. I rent a little flat in Bethnal Green, I've got my studio just round the corner, and I'm doing what I've always wanted to do.'

'I'm so pleased for you', I said. 'I really am.'

'Things seem to be going well for you too, huh? I read about the contract.'

'I know', I said. 'I can hardly believe it.'

'You were always a fantastic writer Alice, it was only a matter of time.'

'I think I got lucky', I said.

'I think you got what you deserved. I remember the story you turned in for an English class once about the kids that found the rocket buried at the end of the school field, and then went flying to the moon in it. That was inspired.'

'You remember that?'

'Of course I remember that. I remember everything that you wrote. The man who couldn't sleep and spent his evening's buying dreams that a scientist had stolen from some of his subjects, the car that crashed into the back of a lorry, with the kids trapped inside, and how they felt like sardines in a can, while the firemen cut the roof off, the science teacher falling in love with a robot he'd created - that was a bit metaphysical that one. I remember them all.'

'No-one else does.'

'Well there you go. I must be your number one fan', Toby said and smiled.

'You'd have to fight Sophia for that accolade, she's pretty fierce too.'

'I reckon I could take her', Toby said. 'Even though I know nothing about her.'

'You know I kept every drawing you gave me. Even the ones I tore up. I sellotaped them back together because I felt guilty.'

Toby laughed. 'You're just as bad as I am.'

'I find it hard to throw things away, especially sentimental things. I loved that picture you drew of us too. The one in the tree house. It was so romantic.'

'Me, romantic?' Toby said.

'You were the most romantic boy I'd ever met.'

'I think I was the first boy you ever met.'

'Maybe', I said.

'So who's the lucky guy now?'

'Devizes Carter', I said.

'Nice name', Toby said. 'Are you happy?'

'I don't know. Yes. I think. He's attentive, caring, buys me lots of things, works a lot. I don't know, the sex is good. He's the reason I can call myself a professional writer.'

'You don't sound so sure', Toby said.

'I don't know. I wish he didn't work as much as he does, but you know, we're still getting to know each other, it's only been a month and a half, so early days really. He's a billionaire, Toby, he owns islands. He bought me a Ferrari.'

'Wow', Toby said.

'Yeah.'

'Do you even now what a Ferrari is?'

'No, not really', I said, and both of us fell about laughing.

'Sounds like a world away from my life.'

'Yeah, it's kind of surreal, I have to say.'

'Easy to get used to though, I'm sure', Toby said.

'How about you?' I said, wanting to change the subject.

'Single', Toby said, 'have been for a while. I just, you know, haven't found the right girl yet. Maybe I'm difficult to get along with. I'm a bit messy you know, disorganised.'

'I don't believe it', I said, cheekily.

'I have a cat', Toby said.

'Really?'

'Do you want to know what he's called?'

'Go on.'

'Picatso.'

I laughed.

'It's good isn't it?' Toby said, pleased with himself. 'I wanted to get another and call him meowro, but it didn't work as well, and it didn't seem right naming something after my dead dog.'

A natural silence fell between us, while we both took a moment to think about Miro.

'Do you want another drink?' I said after a while.

'Sure', Toby said. 'Get some crisps as well. They've got McCoys up there.'

'McCoys, sweet', I said, and headed for the bar.

Toby and I spent the rest of the afternoon laughing, drinking and catching up on old times. Being with him was so natural, and something that I'd needed for so long, that when the day finally came to an end, I didn't want him to go. We moved from cheap pub to cheap pub, ate dinner in a McDonald's surrounded by a birthday party of seven year olds, took a walk along Southbank, where Toby showed me some of his art work hidden amongst a wall of it in the skate park there, talked about old times and what the future might bring, and everything just felt right to me.
I don't need money to be happy,
I thought,
what I need is love, and love doesn't cost a thing.

I hugged him tightly and cried onto his shoulder.

'What's up?' Toby said.

'I don't know', I said. 'I miss you. I've missed you.'

'Yeah well, I'm back now, you've got my number.'

'I've got your number', I said, but the tears kept coming.

'Let's do this again sometime', Toby said. 'I can show you my studio if you like, both of them.'

'Both of them?'

'I've still got a few more pieces the council haven't got round to cleaning up, and then I've got the legitimate stuff I work on in-doors.'

'I'm a little bit drunk I think', I said.

'Don't be sick on me', Toby joked.

'I won't', I said. 'I think it's why I'm crying.'

'I'd understand if you were sick on me', he said.

'I know you would', I said. I was still holding on to him and had been for about two minutes. I had my head rested against his chest and it felt like the comfiest pillow in the world. Finally I pulled away to look at him.

'I'm sorry Toby', I said.

'What for?'

'For not being there for you when you needed me to be.'

'Don't be silly.'

'I'm serious', I said. 'The stuff with Lisa and Clare, protecting myself and being popular. All that bullshit. I'm sorry for letting you down. I'm sorry for not being strong enough to stand up to them. I was a shit friend to you, and you were the best friend I ever had. I loved you Toby. I don't think I ever told you that before. I think I still do.'

I was so close to kissing him, but instead I pushed myself away.

'I'm sorry, I should go', I said, overwhelmed and embarrassed. 'I'm sorry.'

I made my way down the steps of the tube station, desperate to get away.

'I'll call you', I called behind me.

Alice wait', Toby said.

'I can't', I said. 'It's already too late, I have to go.'

I practically ran into the tube station for fear of what I might do if I stayed. I cried pretty much all the way home, and was still crying when I got in.

'Oh dear', Sophia said, knowing exactly what had happened, without me needed to tell her. She'd washed most of the paint off, but still had some underneath her ears and on her elbows. 'That's what happens when you look into the looking glass.'

Chapter 20

Still the words wouldn't come. No matter how much I tried, no matter how much I concentrated, I couldn't will anything into existence. I stared hour after hour, day after day at a blank screen, and that's when I wasn't distracting myself with facebook, emails, reading someone else's work, or running up and down Blackheath common like a mad woman, when it all got too much.

My book, or the book I liked to believe was mine in disguise, a sort of souped-up version of mine, built specifically for an inbuilt audience, was selling like proverbial hot cakes, and it gave me a rush seeing it in book shops, and watching it shoot up best sellers charts, even if it no longer felt like my own. I imagined myself as the adoptive parent of a talented child, knowing that the biological parents would be watching that child's progress too, with much more vested interest, and a greater, much more natural connection. I may have brought the child up, but it truly belonged to someone else. I tried not to let it bother me. I told myself I was a writer, I lauded it over the rest of my family, I marvelled at the advance payment that had been left in my bank account - more money than I had ever imagined seeing in my life, and only a percentage of what was due to come - and I reminded myself of the brand new Ferrari which Devizes's had gifted me, and I still hadn't dared myself to drive, but still something didn't feel right.

Another week passed, and I didn't see Devizes at all, apart from a brief liaison on Monday night because I practically demanded his attention, and wouldn't accept no for an answer. I was overwhelmed from the meeting with Toby, and I needed Devizes to bring me back to reality. I'm not sure if it worked. He was away again on a business conference for several days after that, and when he returned, he said he was too tired to meet up. I dreamt about Toby, and he was never far from my thoughts, even when I was with Devizes. I couldn't believe he'd come back into my life again, and half of me kind of wished he hadn't, because it would have been a lot less complicated without him. I wondered if in meeting up with him, I'd opened a can of worms, I should have left closed eighteen years ago.

Also, in all the time that I'd thought he'd cheated on me, he hadn't. I'd spent more than half of my life trying to come to terms with something that hadn't even happened. I couldn't believe I'd been deceived. That bitch Lisa had made it up because she was jealous that Toby and I were together.

I finally got to see Devizes again about a week and a half after I'd seen him last. He called me, told me he'd already sent Jackson around to pick me up, and we'd be spending the evening at the theatre, before eating and heading back to his house to play. It was exactly what I needed, and I was over the moon that he'd finally called after we'd spent what seemed like far too much time apart.