The Night That Changed Everything (24 page)

‘Why?' Sally asks, while Tommy raises his eyebrows.

‘He slept with Danielle.'

They both gasp.

‘Your best mate Danielle?' says Tommy quietly. ‘Christ. Let me get you that pint of gin.'

‘I can't believe it,' Sally insists. ‘I know I only met him once, but he didn't seem the type.'

‘He had us all fooled,' I say.

‘How did it happen?'

‘She was upset, he was comforting her.'

‘Man, that's bad.' Tommy shakes his head.

‘I know. He's a bad man.'

‘That was his excuse?' asks Sally in disgust.

‘Yep, and us not being together yet, blah, blah, blah.'

‘Hang on . . . What do you mean?' Sally says, hands pausing mid-stroke. ‘You weren't together yet?'

‘No, we were. Kind of.'

Tommy pushes the chips that the barmaid has just brought towards me. ‘Here, eat these. So, how long had you been going out?'

‘Well, we weren't going out per se,' I say, devouring the chips. ‘But we had met. That night.'

‘Had anything happened? Did you kiss?'

‘No, but we talked. Anyway,' I add as I watch them exchange another look, ‘it's not about the fact he slept with her. He's been lying to me about it ever since.'

‘Has he?' asks Tommy. ‘You asked him if he'd slept with her and he said he hadn't?'

‘That's not the point,' Sally steps in. ‘He's not been honest, and shouldn't get away with it on a technicality.'

‘Exactly.' I love Sally.

‘Look,' she says to me, ‘things will get better. You know what they say: an arrow can only be shot by pulling it backward. So when life is dragging you back with difficulties, it means it's going to launch you into something great.'

‘Who says that?' I ask, while Tommy rolls his eyes.

‘Make fun all you want. All I'm saying is you have your whole future ahead of you.'

‘Everyone has their future ahead of them,' Tommy points out.

‘Rebecca,' says Sally, ignoring Tommy, ‘you will get over this.'

‘Or,' Tommy says after a moment, ‘crazy idea . . .' He waves his hands around his head to illustrate the crazy. ‘. . . you could forgive him.'

‘Are you kidding me?' I ask.

‘Why not?'

‘Did you miss the part about him sleeping with my best mate and not telling me?'

‘No, I doubt anyone missed it. You speak rather loudly when you're drunk.'

‘Yep,' agrees the barmaid, taking the empty chip bowl. ‘We all caught it.'

‘Surely you understand why he didn't tell you?' Tommy continues. ‘Why does it have to be one strike and you're out with you?'

‘What's that supposed to mean?'

‘Do you remember why we broke up?'

‘Because you weren't ready for a relationship. At least not with me. You were more interested in boozing with your roommates.'

‘That happened once,' Tommy says, raising his own voice. ‘I really liked you, and I thought things were great, then there was one night the lads were trying to get me to stay out, taking the piss out of me for wanting to leave to be with you, so I stayed out. I was nineteen and at university, but you made out like I'd proved I couldn't be trusted, and dumped me.' He lowers his voice again. ‘Not that I care or anything – I'm married now.'

I try to think about what he's saying but my head feels fuzzy. I think my hangover is kicking in. Is he right? Was it just one time?

‘Tommy's right,' says Sally gently, though she's looking at him funny. ‘Not about Ben – what he did was wrong, and I can see why you'd find it hard to trust him again. But you don't make many allowances for people. It's like you're so scared of needing anyone that as soon as they let you down once, you bail. Has Ben ever done anything to hurt you before?'

I think back to our year together. There was bickering, but nothing like this.

‘I don't think so,' I admit.

‘Don't be afraid to let people in. That's all I'm saying.'

I'm about to say more when I realize that all of Sally and Tommy's friends have paused their conversation. Even the ones that aren't looking my way have shut up so they can eavesdrop subtly, some looking amused while others look bewildered. I feel myself blush. What am I doing here? I don't know these people. This is far lonelier than being by myself at home.

‘You know what, Sally?' I stand up shakily. ‘I might go. I'm not feeling great.' She doesn't try to stop me. ‘Let's arrange another catch-up soon, though,' I add to be polite.

‘Deffo,' she says brightly. ‘Maybe we could do lunch? Or grab a coffee?'

‘Sure.' She really must think I have a drinking problem.

The fresh air is a relief. I move far enough away from the bar not to be seen then stop and sit on a wall. How did I end up here? The streets are busy, full of groups of friends, laughing as they rush to their next party, and couples holding hands as they head towards the bridge to get a good spot for the fireworks.

This time last year I had all those things: friends, stuff to laugh about, someone to kiss at midnight. Maybe Jamie was right. Maybe I should have been at his party.

A taxi crawls past and although I'd planned to get the train, I find myself waving it over.

‘Where are you off to, love?'

I go to say my address but stop. I look at his clock. 11.27 p.m.

‘Arch 13,' I tell him, leaning forward. ‘Head towards Greenwich station and I'll direct you from there.'

‘I'm OK,' I tell Jamie. ‘Not good, not great, but OK, you know?'

‘That's progress,' he says, standing up from his stool to applaud the band he booked for the New Year party.

They've finished the first half of their set and Erica is turning up the background music for the interval. Jamie gives the singer a thumbs-up as he and his bandmates head outside for a smoke.

‘Christmas was a turning point,' I say. ‘I kind of accepted that it's over.'

He smiles to show he's heard me, but still doesn't offer an opinion, almost like he's sceptical. A few seconds pass.

‘So what are Danielle and Rebecca up to tonight?'

I frame it like a casual enquiry to show that, really, I'm in a good place, a place where I can chat about my ex in passing without it being a big deal.

‘Danielle said it'd be too hard to spend it in Greenwich without Rebecca, so she's going to a house party in Shoreditch with her cousin.' Jamie sighs, and I know he's thinking that
last
year we spent it all together. ‘And Rebecca's seeing friends.'

I want to ask him which friends, but that would transform my casual enquiry into an enquiry dressed in a tuxedo and bow tie, so I change the subject.

‘I've been reading that book Tom got me for my birthday,' I tell him. ‘You know Michelangelo didn't actually want to paint the Sistine Chapel? He wanted to sculpt, but when the Pope asks you to do something you do it, right? So he spent years doing something he never enjoyed, but then he had the Sistine Chapel to show for it, whereas all I've got to show for my years at London Transport are a set of Acceptable Internet Usage guidelines, and it didn't matter when I was with Rebecca, because the rest of my life was perfect, I had direction, but . . . Are you even listening to me?'

‘It's not that I'm not listening, it's just that some of the things you say go straight to my Junk folder.'

His answer takes me aback, and I sulkily ignore the sarcastic grin he offers me. After a few silent moments I wonder if being hungry is making me oversensitive.

‘I dread to think what the Chef's Special Sauce consists of,' I say, examining the menu.

I order a cheeseburger and when Jamie goes to help Erica serve, something he said earlier comes back to me.
Rebecca's seeing friends.
‘Friends' is what I'd tell a mate if his ex was with a new fella. A mental JPEG opens without me double clicking on it: Rebecca flirting with Pilot_Dan via a sideways glance.

‘Has Rebecca got a new bloke?' I ask Jamie when he retakes his stool.

‘What?' He turns to me. ‘No, not as far as I know.'

I study the dregs of my lager, trying to work out if he's telling the truth as the band resumes with Marvin Gaye.

‘I know she's online dating,' I say.

He looks at me wearily. ‘Rebecca?'

‘It's true.'

‘How do you know?'

I finish my drink and pick up the new one Jamie just dispatched on the bar. ‘Heard it through the grapevine.'

He scrunches his face dismissively.

‘Seriously, what makes you think Rebecca – Rebecca! – is meeting guys online?'

He stares at me, waiting for an answer, and I understand now that I've driven down a road with no room for a U-turn.

‘I saw it on her laptop.'

‘What are you talking about?'

Now it's me sighing. I explain everything.

‘So, just so we're straight,' he says. ‘She deleted you from Facebook so you went round there to propose?'

‘Yes.'

‘And because she wasn't there, you did the obvious thing: you snooped on her laptop,' he folds his brow, ‘and saw she'd been on a dating website?'

I was expecting Jamie to be indignant on my behalf, but if anything he looks pissed off at
me
.

I'm vaguely aware of the singer thanking his audience but neither Jamie nor I are paying attention now. It's a relief when my cheeseburger arrives because it means I don't have to look at his accusing eyes, but I can sense him watching me, so that I become conscious of the way I'm eating.

‘You masticate too much,' he finally says.

I stop chewing. ‘Pardon?'

‘I've always thought it about you. I don't know why I've never mentioned it before.'

I take another bite of my burger and in a deliberate act of rebellion swallow after two chews. I instantly regret it.

‘To be fair,' I tell him, ‘this burger is so overcooked that if I didn't chew it thirty times I'd need a chimney-sweep to remove it from my throat.'

He doesn't take offence.

‘I'm not just talking about food,' he says.

‘So what, I'm supposed to be happy she's dating other people?'

‘I'm not saying that, but sometimes in life you just need to swallow.'

We smirk like teenage boys, levity returning, then turn to watch the band. I see that one of the girls dancing at the front is Tidy Tania. She steals a glance our way, and I realize Jamie is sacrificing another chance to get with her to spend the night with me.

‘So anyway,' he says, ‘how's that turning point working out for you?'

‘Piss off, Hawley.'

It's annoying, but he's right. I came back from Manchester thinking I was getting there but now I'm not so sure. It's being here, this place, where we met, and where this time last year we were so happy. And even though Jamie says he doesn't believe it, I know what I saw on her laptop.

I shove my plate away, feeling the anger bubbling again.

‘Maybe you should think about getting your own place,' Jamie says.

I see his eyes venture my way but I don't react, waiting instead for him to play his full hand. ‘I love having you at the flat, and I've never eaten so well, but if you really are going to reach a turning point . . .'

I concentrate on wiping a column of condensation from my pint glass.

‘Is this because my bike's in the way?'

‘It's not about the bike.'

The place erupts for the band once again and Tidy Tania looks at Jamie with an
Oh my God, they're so good
face.

‘So what, you just want me out of the flat to stop cramping your style?'

‘You know it's not like—'

‘What then?'

‘You want me to be honest?'

‘Be my guest.'

The singer asks the bassist what the time is, but it's all part of the act. With beads of sweat making tracks down his temples he tells the room there's time for one more song before the countdown to midnight.

‘No one wants you and Rebecca to get back together more than me, but it's not looking likely, is it?'

‘I know, and I told you earlier I'd accepted that.'

‘Yes, and then you've spent half the night asking about her.'

I tighten my grip on my glass. I'm on the defensive now. ‘Exaggerating much?'

‘I know you were hurting but looking at her laptop, that's not good, mate.'

Why is he saying this? I know he's frustrated that Rebecca and Danielle aren't here, and I know this whole thing has affected him too, but he's supposed to be my oldest mate, to have my back, and yet it feels like he thinks it's totally fine that Rebecca is going on dates already.

‘I'm speaking as a friend,' he says. ‘I don't like what it's doing to you.'

‘What's that supposed to mean?'

I'm morphing into a petulant teenager but I can't stop myself.

‘Look, when sad stuff happens you can either let it eat at you or create something positive from it. You're letting it eat at you and life's—'

‘Don't tell me,
Life's too short
.'

Jamie pinches the top of his nose between finger and thumb, as though trying to explain something to an idiot.

‘You know how many heartbeats most people get?'

‘Enlighten me.'

‘Three billion, if they're lucky. You can't waste them moping around feeling sorry for yourself. You need to make as many of them as possible count for something.'

‘So I'm not allowed to be upset that the girl I loved more than anything in the world doesn't want me any more?'

He rubs the scar above his eyebrow. ‘You've just wasted seven heartbeats asking me that.'