The Beard (8 page)

“You’d have been free then, I bet!” she said, smiling and nodding as if employing the subtle art of hypnosis on him. Tom mirrored her nodding, then shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows at the same time, as if to suggest disappointment.

“Good. Because it is the month after that, so we’ll see you both there. And don’t worry, my darlings, we’ll make sure you have a lovely double room all to yourself. I’m no prude. And you never know, the mood might take you – weddings do get one in the mood for other weddings, you know!”

Tom stood, dumbstruck. Amy was transfixed on a point in the distance.

“Now, my sweets, it really is beyond my bedtime. Tom, it’s been a pleasure to meet you and we’ll see you both very soon indeed.”

As she walked away, brushing past the large potted aspidistra, Tom turned to Amy. She stood, looking at the floor and anxiously fingering the fabric on her outfit. She knew that she was in trouble and looked up at Tom with a watery smile.

“You’re
in so much shit, lady,” he said before walking off.

Tom had stormed through the front door and was already in the kitchen by the time Amy closed it.

After the tense and silent ride home, Amy knew that she was about to take a roasting. “Before you start shouting at me…” she began her defence, “I’m sorry that all of that just happened. But will you at least hear me out?”

Tom’s ongoing silence indicated a willingness to listen. He stood at the far end of the kitchen,
leaning against the counter top, his arms angrily folded.

Having been granted a possible audience, Amy now had to find something to say. Having pleaded for clemency, she now had to construct a case and make it – convincingly.

“Well,” she started hesitantly, “it’s, well, it’s…”

“Is that it?” was Tom’s rather unimpressed response.

“No! Look…”

Tom turned his back and started to make a hot drink.

Amy hesitated, wondering what this gesture meant.

“Go on,” he managed brusquely.

Amy knew that she hadn’t got off to a flier. “I had no idea Janet was going to tell you about… about… about Sam.”

Tom turned to shoot a look at her that conveyed both irritation and curiosity.

“I saw him a couple of times, that’s all,” she continued. “When Janet saw me with him at the gym, I had to think of something quickly. So I just said that things between you and me were a bit rocky, but that Sam and I were just friends. That you didn’t mind and, er, that you had female friends, too.”

Tom turned around in disbelief. “You told her we had an open relationship?” He shook his head and looked to the ceiling. “No wonder she spent the night hitting on me.”

In an attempt to clarify matters, Amy had seemingly only succeeded in making things worse. “Look, I know I should’ve told you all of that,” she said as a matter of understatement. “But because it was just a spur-of-the-moment thing, I kind of forgot about it. Then, when I did remember, I thought, ‘What’s the point in telling him?’ I mean, it’s not like you were ever going to find out.”

“But I did,” said Tom, deadpan.

“Yes, but I thought that, because it wasn’t important, because none of this is real, there was no point in me saying anything. I didn’t think it mattered. I just thought it was meaningless. Honest.”

Tom remained still, his chest pulsating in and out as he tried to breathe easily. “Meaningless?” he said with more than a wisp of irritation. “What was meaningless? The other man? The wedding? The fact that you’ve been singing my praises to your family? That stuff, you mean?” He spat the words with rancor.

“Look,” said Amy, feeling defensive. “You knew I was going to tell my parents that you were my boyfriend. That’s how this whole thing started. You help me out with my bloody mother and I make your workmates think that you’re straight. If we…”

“I don’t need a re-cap on how this started, Amy,” interrupted Tom, who was now pacing around the room, channeling his anger. “I told everyone at work that you were my girlfriend and that was fine. If they really, really needed to see you, I knew that I could produce you. You were a passive partner. You were supposed to tell your family that you’d met a guy and started dating, but that it was early days. And then, in time, maybe there would be the odd meet – if necessary. You weren’t supposed to be on the phone, making me out to be something I’m not and can never be.” He stood in front of her, his arms crossed. “You’ve just dug yourself a huge bloody hole and made sure that I’m in it with you. Why do that?”

Amy looked frightened. Not by Tom, but by the situation. The circumstances were bigger than them.

“So, what do I do now?” continued Tom. “Make myself look like a fool, like tonight, or let you down? This arrangement is only helping one of us out, and that’s you. Not exactly fair, is it?” His brow was furrowed but Amy could see forgiveness in his eyes. Tom was rarely successfully angry.

“Are you in love with me?” he asked flatly.

Amy looked up in horror. “WHAT?” she blurted without thinking how that might look. “Get over yourself, Tom,” she added for good and insulting measure.

The response was swift and very to the point. Tom looked affronted, but Amy stuck to her guns. “I love you as a friend,” she said by way of appeasement, “but not like that. You’re not my type. Look, they kept asking me questions about you. I kept saying you worked weekends so that they couldn’t meet you. They talked about the wedding and said you had to come. I was going to leave it until a bit before and just say you couldn’t make it – like I’ve done every other bloody time. I was going to take a picture of you with me and hope that would keep them quiet. But now you’ve gone and told Edith, you can bloody well make it – you’re going to have to come now, aren’t you?”

“And that’s my fault?” said Tom, amazed at Amy’s attempt to pin this debacle on him. “I didn’t even know about the wedding. What was I supposed to say?”

Amy was happy to take her share of the blame but not be solely responsible for an accident of circumstance. “Look, we agreed that if we needed to go to an event as the other’s bit of stuff, we would. Well, we’ve been ‘going out’ for a few months and, aside from tonight, I’ve never cashed those chips in – so I am now. Twice in what will be six months is hardly an imposition, is it?”

Silence returned, punctuated only by the clicking and whirring of the fridge. The early hours of any city morning are the same. Tom and Amy stood in the artificially lit kitchen. Against the enormity of the darkness that enrobed the world outside, the pinprick of light from their room amplified their isolation. Their shadows played a puppet show to the outside world, through an open, uncovered window. It was tempting to assume that they were the only two people awake.

“Look,” said Amy wearily, “why don’t I just dump you and then we can hit the reset button? I mean, it’s getting way too complicated.”

Tom stared at her and raised an eyebrow. “You dump me?” he offered with an icy tone. “After what you’ve done!” There was an air of outrage and mischief in his voice.

“You dump me, then – who cares?” came the tart reply. “All I’m saying is, this started out as a good ruse, an easy way to shut my family up and keep your workmates happy. But look at us – we’re fighting like a married bloody couple. What’s that about? Let’s just end it.”

Tom felt a bizarre pang of guilt, but hid it with a put-down. “We could do. You’re certainly as annoying as I imagined a wife would be.”

Amy looked at him and raised her eyebrows in disdain. 

“What will you tell your family?” Tom muttered reluctantly. “I mean, Edith is going to tell them we’re the happiest two people on the planet. You can’t just call the next day and say that we’re done. Even by your standards that’s going some.”

Amy looked up irritated and then scuffed her shoe along the terracotta-tiled floor before shrugging an admission. “They already think I’ve made a mess of my life, so what will it matter if they add this to the list?”

There was no sense of pity in what she’d said or an attempt to garner sympathy. Perched on the table edge and looking at her shoes beneath her sodden dress, this was Amy as naked and as vulnerable as she got.

Tom knew that he couldn’t let her down, however much she’d irritated him. Deep down, he could see that the evening’s events were just one of those things, and his Olympic capacity to forgive were well documented. He resigned himself to the reality that he’d have to continue with the pretence for a bit longer, at least until the wedding. Socialising at someone else’s family function, masquerading as someone’s boyfriend, was going to be about as much fun as invasive dental surgery, but Amy needed him and that’s what mattered.

“Come here,” he said, holding out his arms. Amy looked up and at him. Her wet, straggly hair, with bits of discarded glitter in, made her look entertainingly pitiful. Having worked through his irritation, Tom smiled.

“It’s not funny,” she said, walking over to him and freely allowing herself to be embraced by his vice-like grip. Her head lay on his chest and, given that his heart rate had returned to a semblance of normality, she could tell that he was feeling better. She wrapped her arms around his waist for added comfort.

“I have a solution,” said Tom cheerily.

Without moving, Amy mumbled into his torso, “Oh yeah? What?”

Tom chuckled. “We both just need to find a man.”

Amy snorted and continued to hold on. Her wet hair had started to seep through Tom’s shirt and he felt the enveloping warm, moist patch pressing under her head.

“There’s something else you should know,” Amy ventured tentatively.

Tom tensed up and pushed her away from his body so that he could see her fully. “WHAT?” he asked testily. He was done with surprises.

Amy continued to look away from his face. This wasn’t a great sign. Tom was irritated to have been made to look a fool, but to be kept continually in the dark throughout their hoax relationship was beginning to genuinely annoy him. “Well,” she continued, “that man from the gym, Sam. He did call me back. I’ve been out for a couple of drinks with him, but I promise I didn’t tell anyone. No one. He’d been away on business and lost my number. Then, when he was back, he came to the gym every night to track me down. He’s kind of sweet.”

Tom didn’t know what to think or what to say. “Take him to the wedding,” he said, matter of fact. Amy wasn’t sure how to take the comment or whether it was worth considering.

At that moment, there was an almighty crash at the front door, forcing them both to jump visibly. Amy took a step backwards, sending a look of concern at Tom. Tom walked to the kitchen doorway and looked down his long corridor, desperate to work out what had caused the tremendous collision.

“What the hell was that?” he said, striding briskly into the hallway. The dimly lit passage had suddenly acquired an ominous presence. What had made the door shudder so violently? What was at the end of the tiled walkway? What lay in wait for them?

Halfway up the wooden door were two frosted-glass panes. Looking at them revealed nothing, as they seemed clear from any obstruction or indication of a threat. The light filtering through each one cast an imposing imprint on the floor as Amy and Tom stood in silence. They waited for any clues or signs as to the origins of the noise.

When none came, Tom advanced forwards and attempted a forensic examination from behind the safety of his doorframe. There was nothing immediately obvious – although, from the corner of his eye, he saw movement on the pavement. He stared at the blurred choreography in an attempt to make out what it was.

“What is it?” asked Amy.

“I’m not sure,” Tom said, taking his time over every word. “There’s either a drunk collapsed against the door or the fattest cat known to man,” he replied.

Amy was still standing closer to the kitchen than the front door.
“Well, don’t open it,” she said as Tom turned the lock.

“It’ll be fine,” he said with a weak smile, as he proceeded to open the door.

With his foot behind the door preventing any forced entry, he slowly, purposefully and nervously pulled it towards him. Looking down, he saw a mass of humanity, badly lit by the poor street illumination.

“Hello?” he said, opening the door further. Was it a drunk? It was only as the door opened further that the collapsed figure fell into his hall.

“Oh my shitting God!” said Tom as Amy raced towards the blood-splattered figure of Ashley. “What the…? Call an ambulance!” Tom shouted at Amy, before setting about trying to get some reaction from Ash.

Tom fell to the floor. Ash was muttering and groaning, much to Tom’s relief. Accepting that he was still alive, he checked for any immediate signs of specific injury. Seeing none, he drove his hands under this limp and bloodied frame and, with an almighty push of adrenalin-fuelled energy, lifted upwards. Ash’s body was hauled upright and slumped, lamely, into Tom’s torso. Tom walked backwards into the house and, cradling Ash softly, kicked his lounge door open. Like a groom carrying his bride across the threshold, Tom navigated his way into the lounge and carefully lowered Ash onto the sofa. His tender movements attempted to protect this mangled frame and ensure that nothing was done to exacerbate any injuries.