This is a Love Story (42 page)

Ross had well and truly calmed me down at the pub last night, but this morning I was back to square one.

‘She loves me, Ross,’ I’d said hurriedly, as soon as Tom realised that he’d got pissed too quickly and had to leave at 9 p.m., walking into a bar stool on his way out.

I’d been itching to say something all evening, but I couldn’t in front of Tom. His premature drunkenness was perfectly timed.

‘Who? Your mum?’ asked Ross, starting to chuckle before patting me on the back. Oh, the ‘your mum’ jokes – popular at school, rife at university, still unavoidable in later life . . .

‘No, well yes, she does, but I’m talking about Sienna,’ I said, rolling my eyes in frustration.

‘What?’ cried my friend, who had only just stopped laughing and was now staring at me in shock. His time at the gym now saw him looking quite a lot like one of those jumbo Toblerone bars you can buy in airports. I could almost hear the buttons on his top shrieking in fear before they tore away from the fabric and pinged into shirtless oblivion.

‘Yes. Is it that hard to believe?’ I joked.

‘Well, a little. After five years? Are you sure about this?’

Thanks a lot, Ross. You could be a bit happier for me. Was it really that hard to believe? Maybe all the muscles he’d developed lately were stopping the blood flowing to his brain properly and rendering him emotionless.

‘Yes. Well, it’s utterly bizarre. She’s friends with this homeless guy called Pete and after work today he was hanging around my car.’

‘Right . . .’ said Ross dubiously as he played with a ring of water on the table, left by the condensation from his glass.

As I spoke I realised how ridiculous this story sounded. ‘At first I didn’t recognise him. I thought he was going to mug me or something, so we had a bit of an embarrassing scuffle, but anyway—’

‘You tried to beat up a homeless man?’ He arched one eyebrow questioningly, starting to grin from ear to ear.

‘No, no, no. Well, I guess, almost. For God’s sake, let me finish. I realised it was him and I let him in my car, and he told me,’ I concluded, throwing both hands in front of me and sitting back in my chair with a look of elation.

‘Sienna has loved you for five years and she told a tramp and not you.’ The eyebrow twitched again as he assessed me. ‘You need to tell me more.’

So I told him. Everything. The whole conversation. The slops of Coke, the dirty boots on the newly cleaned dashboard, the horn-beeping joy of it all.

And then he softened. ‘Fucking hell, Nick. This is huge. I’m so, well, happy for you, mate,’ he said with a smile. I could tell he was confused and I didn’t blame him.

Usually when I met up with Ross it was to discuss something awful or humiliating I’d done, which I think, in a way, gave him great pleasure. But for once things were going my way and I hadn’t done something that would have my mate pissing himself at my expense. Now all the stars had aligned for me (for once) and he was unsure of what to say next.

‘So you’ve told her how you feel, right?’ he asked, shoving a handful of peanuts into his mouth.

‘No.’

‘What?’

‘I said no.’

‘You idiot!’

‘Thanks. Why am I an idiot? What have I done now?’

‘So basically, the girl of your dreams loves you, even though it was as obvious as the nose on my face—’

‘You do have a big nose, pal,’ I interrupted him.

‘You’ve loved her for five whole agonising years and yet as soon as you find out she feels the same, you’re sitting in this dingy pub with me, your fat friend, drinking overpriced, flat beer.’

‘You’re not fat, Ross, you just took the bodybuilding a bit too far.’

He ignored me. ‘So you’re sitting in the pub with your fat friend rather than knocking down her door and sorting this out?’

‘I was waiting for the right . . . moment?’ I said, a cold wave of realisation washing over me.

He looked at me. I looked at him. He had a point. There was almost a minute of silence while we mourned the loss of something. My common sense.

‘Should I go now?’ I said, suddenly standing up and grabbing hold of my jacket, ready to sweep her off her feet.

‘No, no, no,’ he said, pulling me right back down again.

‘What? You’re confusing me.’

‘It’s nearly ten, Nick, and to be honest you look like a homeless guy yourself. Plus, judging by the look in your eyes I reckon you’re about 60 per cent drunk, which means you’ll probably ruin the whole thing.’ He took a huge gulp of his pint, keeping an absolutely straight face.

I’d imagined this moment to be a little different to how it had turned out. I’d thought it would involve lots of smiling, backslapping and deep man-talk about love that would make us so emotional we’d both have to clear our throats and ‘go for a quick walk outside’. I didn’t know if it was the alcohol, or the knowledge that Sienna felt the same, but it seemed as though I was walking on clouds all the way back home that night.

But my nerves seemed to treble when I saw her walk into the office this morning, and rather than locking them away somewhere quiet like I should have done, I bounded over to her before she’d even had the chance to sit down. I think I might have freaked her out.

Lydia almost blew my cover too. I’d bumped into her in the lift earlier. ‘Hey, Lyds,’ I said, folding my newspaper in half and starting to read the front-page story. Again. I’d attempted to read it a few times this morning but my eyes kept hovering over the first line. I was too excited to finish the rest, never mind actually open up the paper. Do. Not. Tell. Her. Be strong, Nick. Mouth shut. Keep quiet.

‘Hey, Nick. You OK?’ she asked, standing next to me, looking lovely and smelling like fruits of the forest. As usual she looked nice, but there was a lot of boob going on today . . .

‘Oh my God, Sienna loves me,’ I blurted out as the lift started to pull away from reception. Well done. Idiot. It was the rack – it made me talk.

She turned towards me with her mouth wide open and a look of sheer joy on her face, as if she’d been told she’d won the lottery. ‘I know she does!’ she shrieked, jumping up and down in a pair of treacherously high shoes.

The lift shook a little so I threw out my hand to stop her. Lifts were scary enough as it was. She knew too? I wondered how many other people knew. And why hadn’t they bloody well told me?

We stood and stared at each other in wonder for a few seconds. ‘She’s liked you for a long time, Nick. I’m so happy for you both.’ She giggled, elbowing me in the side before the doors opened, then flounced off way too fast.

But wait . . . It had been such a brief conversation that I’d forgotten to say the most important thing, which was ‘Don’t say anything, I haven’t told her that I know . . .’ So later, after Sienna had arrived and I saw Lydia pull up a chair next to her, I had no option but to yank her away. I admit I did tug pretty hard on her arm, but it seemed to work. So far so good. Disaster averted.

It was about 11 a.m. when the phone on my desk rang, waking me from a daydream.

‘Right, Nick, I’ve asked Sienna to come and see me at 3 p.m. about this job.’ It was Ant and this was a decision that would change her life forever.

‘Brilliant! That’s great, Ant. You won’t regret it, you really won’t,’ I said, realising how clichéd this all sounded. But I knew he wouldn’t regret it. No one had ever given Sienna responsibility and regretted it. She was more capable than the whole office put together. She was amazing.

‘OK, but keep your mouth shut. I’m not talking to her until 3 p.m., and she might even turn it down,’ he instructed, before rudely hanging up on me. I didn’t care this time.

I thought about her father and how proud he would be. I knew George quite well now, and I knew that this would bring him great joy. But someone like George couldn’t go out and do the things other fathers would to show their pride. Chocolates. Balloons. Flowers. Whatever. I knew this would be a bit of a risk, but I was willing to take it. I picked up the phone and dialled. It rang a few times and then eventually there was a click on the other end of the line.

‘Hello, George Walker speaking,’ he said in an unusually gruff voice. He had obviously been asleep, I thought.

‘Hi George, it’s Nick,’ I replied, feeling a rush of anticipation all over my body.

‘Oh, Nick – it’s so nice to hear from you.’ He sounded really sleepy. I was worried about putting strain on him if he was having an off day.

‘You too. I think you need to sit down for this,’ I said, knowing that imparting this news while he was standing up would be a bad idea.

‘Yes, definitely – hang on a sec.’ I heard him sink into his leather chair, which always squeaks when you sit on it. I could just picture him in the flat. Notebooks and plates everywhere, mugs collecting on the table.

‘Sienna has achieved something quite amazing today. I don’t want to tell you exactly what it is, because that’s her job, but she’s been given a great promotion,’ I started, feeling a bit sick now. I took a deep breath and looked at my noticeboard, which was covered in photos, including one of Sienna and me on a company team-building day. I looked into her eyes and just knew I was doing the right thing.

‘Oh, really?’ he said, his voice starting to twinge with emotion already.

‘It’s something so big, it will make you feel very proud.’ The hairs rose on my arms as I was saying this.

I heard him breathing heavily down the line. In. Out. He didn’t say a word; I knew he was fighting off the dark cloak of sleep.

‘You there, George?’

‘Yes,’ he said quietly.

‘OK. If it’s all right, I’m going to order some flowers and balloons from you for Sienna. I hope I’m not crossing the line by doing this. It’s just, I know you can’t go to the shop . . .’ Oh dear. I hoped I was doing the right thing.

There was a long pause before he spoke. ‘Really? That’s ever so kind, Nick.’

Phew. ‘Well, it’s nothing. They’re from you – I don’t really have anything to do with it. It’s just . . . this is big news, George, and I want you to be able to celebrate with her . . .’ I trailed off. I felt I’d handled it OK and I was glad.

‘Thank you, Nick. You mean a lot to us both, I hope you know that,’ he said, very slowly now.

‘You too, George. I’ll order them now so they arrive by the time she gets home. I’ll tell the company to leave them in the cupboard by your door if you’re unable to answer it.’

There was some more heavy breathing and then the phone clicked off. He was probably asleep.

I ordered the most beautiful bunch of flowers, a bottle of Moët champagne, a card and two big helium balloons. I couldn’t wait to see her for dinner later. I was going to tell her.

Tell her I love her and always have, since the day we met.

Fifteen

‘Dad. Tea’s ready.’

Sienna

It had been an agonising countdown for the clock to strike five so I could rush home to tell Dad. He’d be so happy I reckoned he would fall asleep immediately, but that would say it all, wouldn’t it? That was more than enough for me. Then I was to go out for dinner with Nick to celebrate. I just couldn’t wait. This was so exciting.

As soon as the second hand reached the right spot I quietly packed up my things, trying hard not to seem so desperate to leave the office. I wanted to run outside and tell the world that everything was OK. Everything had worked out just fine . . .

The usual suspects had already scarpered, shaving an extra five minutes off the working day. Yet I knew that Julie and Alan in admin would pretend to be working for at least an extra hour for those horrible office Brownie points they seem to be dying to collect. They stumble into the office early with their shirts inside out and a piece of toast hanging from their mouths, and leave sometimes several hours late, almost frothing at the mouth with hunger and exhaustion. And what does it really achieve?

No, tonight I was going to be strict on myself. I was leaving at five, and wouldn’t be pulled into all this bullshit, so I could see my father and then have some fun with Nick. I was going to present my list to Dad so he could start writing about our adventures. I waved goodbye to the last clingers-on and peered into the small office that would soon be mine. Luckily it was quite a distance away from Nick’s. At least now his window would be out of sight, so I’d be able to focus on the task at hand. And what a task it was.

The office was small but bright and all the walls were painted ivory. I imagined myself sitting in there, living out my dreams. This was really going to change my life.

The car alone would make a huge difference. This would mean we could go out. Dad and I – out. I imagined walking him slowly to the front seat with an arm around his shoulder and driving him around at weekends so he could see more of the world. He could breathe the fresh air of the seaside and eat fish and chips with the door open. I could take him to Yorkshire where he could see all the pretty stone walls cutting across the fields like scars. He could actually get out and experience the world rather than tottering around our balcony garden, with its thick, high fence just in case he falls. Maybe he would snooze for a lot of the journey, but still . . .

This was the start of a new chapter for my dad and me. I could take him to visit family, even though they never came to him. It would be all too easy to hold a grudge, but that wasn’t the point of life, was it, to hold grudges? Babies had been born in our family. New lives, new beginnings. And my dad hadn’t been any part of it. I didn’t think my dad had held a baby since I’d been one. And I wanted the youngsters in my family to grow up knowing my dad. Not to know my father is to miss out . . . The thought of the places we could go to brought a lump to my throat. I could wholeheartedly say it meant more than the promotion itself.

As I walked towards the station listening to Ellie Goulding through my earphones, my head was swamped with the wonderful memories I had yet to experience. I was walking on air. And tonight I was going out with my best friend to celebrate the occasion. I almost broke into a run to get home once I’d left the train, but everyone seemed to be getting in my way as if the world was conspiring against me. Charity touts were approaching me, plying me with their guilt-inducing spiels, newspaper stands seemed to be all over the pavements, and there were lots of people with those suitcases on wheels, all making it difficult for me to navigate my path. Still, I wouldn’t let it deflate my mood.