Still Thinking of You (22 page)

37. Ted’s Story

Lloyd knocked on Ted’s door, there was no response. Lloyd didn’t believe Ted was sleeping – he could hear the faint drone of the TV. It sounded like a cheesy game show, so he knocked again and called, ‘It’s me, Lloyd.’ More silence, and then a sigh, and some bustling as Ted made his way to the door. He opened it, but didn’t greet his friend. He simply turned and went back to bed, throwing the duvet over his head. Lloyd entered the suite and closed the door behind him.

‘Nice room, mate. This is really something.’

Lloyd let out a low whistle and although he knew he was there to have a ‘big talk’ with Ted, and he knew that it was seriously uncool to be so clearly impressed with anything, he couldn’t help himself. Besides he never had to be cool around Ted. Ted didn’t mind if Lloyd was just himself. Lloyd opened the cupboards and passed comment on the amount of space and the rare-but-sensible large number of coat hangers. He nosed around the bathroom, then opened the mini bar.

‘Do you want one, buddy?’ Lloyd could just make out that the movement under the duvet was Ted shaking his head. Lloyd helped himself to a beer anyway. He didn’t need to ask – Ted was always very generous and probably wouldn’t even notice another beer on his mini-bar bill. Lloyd sat on one of the comfortable armchairs and addressed the mound of duvet, ‘God, this is like old times, isn’t it?’ Although, in fact, it wasn’t much.

Lloyd and Ted had shared rooms as undergraduates, and neither of them could count the number of times they’d spent an evening together, sharing some beers, watching the TV, kicking back, chewing the fat.

They’d been great days.

The double-occupancy rooms at university were coveted. Providing you got on with your room mate (which most undergraduates did, as they didn’t often have the confidence to form dislikes), you had so much more space and hence the double rooms were usually the party rooms. Lloyd and Ted had more than rubbed along; they genuinely liked one another’s company. Lloyd had been immediately attracted to Ted’s double-barrel name and entry in Debrett’s and after that he had formed a genuine respect and affection for Ted because Ted was generous, gentle, brilliant and, most amazingly of all, humble. Ted had thought Lloyd was a ‘great chap’, full of principles and political theories which, although often naive, were honestly and sincerely felt. Ted liked Lloyd’s energy. His passion. He often referred to him as the ‘Red Radical’.

‘Yes, 1989 to 1992, they were good years,’ said Ted, who had finally emerged from under the duvet.

‘The best,’ added Lloyd.

‘Some of the best,’ qualified Ted. ‘I mean, you’ve had better since, haven’t you? Meeting Sophie and having Joanna. I know the marriage hasn’t worked out, but –’

‘Oh, yes. Yes, of course,’ said Lloyd quickly. He knew how sad those people were who thought their university years were the best years of their lives. He didn’t want to sound like one of those boring losers.

But it was hard not to think back fondly.

Lloyd, Rich, Jase and Ted’s time at university had been a hedonistic whirl of parties, popularity, sex and success. The good times sure did roll, and roll, and roll. Since then, well, yes, there had been good times. Better times, more real times, but not good
years
. That was the coolest thing about university days, there were so many of them. There were numerous lazy mornings in bed (or, occasionally, in a lecture hall). Followed by endless sleepy afternoons in front of the fire (sometimes books open, other times just with the fridge open). And then there were the countless nights at raves, in pubs or simply in young, uncomplicated women’s beds. There had been so much time to look forward to. Now Lloyd often felt that time was running out, or at least the good times were running out.

Lloyd remembered feeling fire in his belly. He’d known that everything out there was his for the taking. They’d all believed that. And they’d been right. They all left with good degrees, high hopes and numerous notches on the bedpost. The world was their oyster. Throughout their twenties, the guys had hurtled their way up their respective career ladders. And while Rich and Jase had bought fast cars and apartments that were too big for single guys – and so they filled them with one-night stands and expensive audio equipment – Ted and Lloyd had happily become smug marrieds with kids. Those were the designated roles. Rich and Jase were playboys, and Lloyd and Ted were happily married.

But Lloyd wasn’t married any more and looking at Ted, who was at this second a mound of flesh shielded by duvet, there was little to suggest that he was in the least bit happy.

‘We used to set the world alight with our ideas, right?’ said Lloyd, partly as a reminder to Ted, partly because he was looking for confirmation that the boys he remembered had existed. ‘We were always laughing and joking.’

‘Arguing,’ added Ted, but as he said it he grinned at Lloyd.

‘Well, yes, there was healthy debate,’ admitted Lloyd. ‘But imagine how I felt knowing I was sharing my wash basket with a bloke that killed foxes for a giggle.’

Ted laughed. He couldn’t imagine getting on a horse to chase across the countryside now, far too energetic. ‘Do you still campaign against fox hunting?’

‘Of course I do,’ said Lloyd. ‘It’s still an issue. Don’t you watch the news?’

‘It must be a good feeling knowing you are really making a difference,’ said Ted.

‘I guess,’ grinned Lloyd. He’d been out of the way of feeling good about himself. The divorce had left him feeling like a failure. Lloyd didn’t like failure, and he tolerated failure in himself least of all. At the first sign of trouble between himself and Sophie, Lloyd had panicked. He had frozen. He’d found it impossible to discuss their issues, hoping that if he ignored them they would go away. Of course, they didn’t. The cracks in their relationship widened to huge, sore gashes – a chasm that he’d filled with another woman. Ashamed of his reaction, Lloyd had lashed out and then withdrawn. Shame and loathing didn’t allow for introspection. Lloyd had rolled himself into a solid, impenetrable ball.

Big Ted’s compliment acted like a blanket settling around the solid, impenetrable ball. Their old friendship was somehow proof that Lloyd wasn’t a failure. For a moment Lloyd felt how he hoped he’d feel on this holiday with his friends – wanted, not wanting. Lloyd watched the snow falling outside the window and allowed a little bit of self-satisfaction to seep into his consciousness. It was a good thing that he still campaigned against fox hunting. How many student saboteurs still gave a damn?

‘What happened out there, buddy?’ asked Lloyd, aware that he could no longer avoid the issue about which he’d come to see Ted. Surprised to find he didn’t even want to.

‘I took a fall.’

‘I know that.’

‘No big deal. I just wasn’t concentrating properly.’

Lloyd wondered if he could push on. Since Ted’s fall, he’d been going over and over the circumstances of the tumble, and he’d been left with this awful thought. A thought so unpleasant he didn’t know how to articulate it. He didn’t know if he even should.

‘Today, it was, you know, it was an accident, wasn’t it?’ Lloyd sat nervously peeling the label off his beer bottle. Clearly he was anxious and uncomfortable. Ted laughed dryly.

‘You think I was planning on hurling myself off the crevasse, don’t you?’

Lloyd blushed. Said aloud, the thought that had half formed in his mind and had haunted him all afternoon seemed ridiculous.

‘Buddy, you’ve been acting so weird. And when you did fall, that wailing –’ Lloyd left the sentence hanging.

‘I’m not that barmy,’ Ted reassured. Poor Lloyd felt silly, but he also felt relieved. ‘In my family, the women are the ones with the history of being total and utter loons,’ added Ted.

‘Jayne appears eminently sensible,’ insisted Lloyd, offended on her behalf by her brother’s comment.

Ted raised an eyebrow. ‘You only think that because you fancy her.’

‘I do not,’ insisted Lloyd.

‘Why? What’s wrong with you?’ asked Ted. Lloyd grinned and said nothing, admitting his mild infatuation through his silence. ‘Everyone fancies her,’ mused Ted, ‘and it’s not doing her any favours.’

Lloyd saw that he could now spend the evening chatting about Jayne, and Greta, and Sophie, too, if he wanted. What was it that Lloyd had longed for in the past year? What was he too proud to ask for and the others too shy to offer? He’d wanted someone to talk to, someone to give him some perspective and, if it wasn’t too much trouble, some advice, too. Maybe that was why Lloyd looked back so fondly on his university years. The place was awash with advice givers. Role models, mentors, counsellors and good, old-fashioned, chatty mates were around every corner. Here, at last, was his chance to get some advice, comfort and guidance. He could avoid the issue that had brought him to Ted’s room and indulge in a chat about the things and people that were important in his life.

Lloyd looked up at Ted, who lay like a bloated and beached whale on his bed. He hadn’t shaved since he’d arrived on holiday, but he didn’t look relaxed, he looked unkempt. Despite the sun on the slopes today, Ted looked grey. It was clear that Ted needed a sounding board, but it was also clear that he probably didn’t know how to ask for one either. At uni they taught you how to debate, discuss and rationalize. They taught you how to pass exams and the port. They didn’t teach you how to ask for help.

Lloyd stepped up to the mike.

‘Look, I’m not here to talk about your sister, as delectable as she is,’ insisted Lloyd. ‘I want to know what’s going on with you. What did you mean when you said you were ruined?’

Ted let out a long sigh. He looked exactly like a balloon several days after a party. Tired, dejected, useless. ‘Exactly that. I lost my job five months ago.’

‘What?’ Lloyd was stunned. ‘Why haven’t you said anything?’

Ted shrugged. He couldn’t think of an answer. Why hadn’t he said anything?

‘Well, how are you managing? I mean, how did Kate take it? She still seems her old self.’ Lloyd wanted to be positive and upbeat. ‘It’s obviously not getting you both down. You’re pulling together. That’s a good thing.’

‘Kate doesn’t know,’ said Ted, deadpan.

‘Doesn’t know?’ Lloyd was momentarily stumped. ‘How’s that working? I guess there was a big pay-off, right? And you’re living off that, right? Are you waiting to get something new before you tell her, to save her the worry?’

‘There was no pay-off.’ The same blunt, resigned tone.

Lloyd didn’t get it. ‘But if you are made redundant in the City there’s always a pay-off. I’m always reading about blokes who get a cool million, and then walk straight into another job.’ Lloyd jealously hated this type of bloke, but at that moment he desperately wanted his best friend to be one of them.

‘I wasn’t made redundant. I was sacked,’ said Ted simply. He sounded dulled, damaged.

‘Sacked?’ Lloyd was astonished and at a total loss for words. He wasn’t exactly
au fait
with what merchant bankers did on a day-to-day basis, but he’d always had the impression that, whatever they did, Ted did it well. He was extremely bright, diligent and likeable. Why would anyone think to sack him? Ted answered the unasked question.

‘Insider dealing.’

‘What?’ Lloyd jumped to his feet. He simply could not take it in. He did not believe it. Could not, would not believe it of Ted. Not even if it was Ted telling him so. ‘But you didn’t, did you?’ Lloyd assumed his question was rhetorical. Ted was the very epitome of English gentlemanliness. He was fair, loyal and honest. He was not a cheat. Not an insider dealer. There had to be a mistake. ‘It’s clearly a case of wrongful dismissal, isn’t it?’

‘No. Yes. A bit,’ said Ted, not clarifying the situation much. ‘Well, technically no, it is not a case of wrongful dismissal. I didn’t mean to, but I broke the rules.’

‘How? Why?’

Ted sighed. After five months of horrible secrecy, he was amazed at how simply the words were pouring out now. ‘I was in Suffolk visiting my parents one weekend. Do you remember Miss Hollingson? Their lady “that does”. She’d been with them for ever. She’s next to hopeless as a cleaner now – in fact always has been – but she’s part of the furniture. She’d finally decided that it was her time to retire, what with my parents spending most of their time abroad. She didn’t like knocking about the old pile alone. My parents would never have asked her to leave, unless it were in a box. I think they were surprised and more than a little bit sad when she said that she wanted to move to her brother’s, to be near his children and grandchildren.’

‘You’ve lost me,’ said Lloyd.

‘The odd thing was I could have given her cash, a lot of cash, and I’d have happily done so. She taught me how to tie my shoelaces and recite the alphabet. You know?’.

Lloyd didn’t know. Ted was describing a different world. A world with live-in housekeepers was one which he could only imagine, but he nodded to encourage Ted.

‘She wouldn’t take my cash. Too proud. We were chatting about her family, and I passed comment on how excited she must be about going to live near them, and she said something a little odd, something that suggested that wasn’t the case. She wasn’t excited and nor were they. Worse still, she knew they weren’t. They couldn’t afford her, was her view. Although, realistically, they probably just didn’t want her. A great auntie turning up on your doorstep with her duster and profligate advice on childcare, well, it’s not ideal, is it? She wanted to take a nest egg with her. A sweetener, if you like. Can you believe it, after all those years of working for my parents for a very fair wage and yet she didn’t have a pension? Hardly any savings to speak of? I was astounded. Nearly everything she’d ever earned she’d passed on. She’d lived comfortably and had no idea that it would end. It didn’t even have to. My parents think of her as family. They didn’t want her to leave.’

A flash of frustration and regret passed across Ted’s face. He was trying to sound reasonable, but in truth this terrible difficulty he found himself centre of was all so unnecessary, and if there was one thing Ted loathed it was unnecessary hardship. Hardship was difficult to bear. Unnecessary hardship was insulting.