Turning Thirty (34 page)

‘Don't worry,' said Gershwin, laughing. ‘This isn't your birthday party. It's a school reunion. But happy birthday, anyway.'

‘So how did this happen?' I asked. ‘How did this all get sorted? Did you stand in Safeway with a megaphone and wait for everyone who ever came to school here to come through?'

Gershwin smiled. ‘I haven't done anything. Well, very little.'

‘So who did?'

‘Think about it, Matt,' said Bev.

I thought about it. ‘You're saying Ginny did this?'

Bev nodded. ‘After you organised that get-together for everyone, Ginny came up with the idea to have a proper school reunion. What with everyone in our year at school having either turned thirty or about to turn thirty, it seemed like a good point to see what we were
all
up to.'

Katrina took up the story. ‘So she organised a reunion to coincide with your birthday, thereby killing two birds with one stone. Okay, so I booked the DJ to play the music of our youth, and Bev, Pete and Katrina helped sort out the food but it was Ginny who did all the tricky bits. She booked the assembly hall to give it that school-disco feel, she rummaged through all the old school files and got everyone's address and sent the letters out.'

‘So where is Ginny?' I asked, scanning the room. ‘Is she here?'

‘No,' said Pete, ‘I'm afraid not, mate. She said she wanted you to have a happy birthday but that there was no way she would be coming tonight. She wouldn't tell me why exactly. I suspect you know, though.'

I exchanged glances with Elaine.

‘Look, Matt,' said Gershwin, attempting to cheer me up, ‘there's nothing you can do about this thing with you and Ginny. What's done is done. This is your thirtieth birthday, mate. This is a once-in-a-lifetime reunion of the people who were there when you had the best days of your life.' He laughed as the strains of Culture Club's ‘Do You Really Want To Hurt Me?' filled the air.

‘I love this song,' said Elaine, grabbing my hand and attempting to pull me on to the dance-floor. ‘Come and dance. Loosen up a little!'

‘I will,' I said, not in the least bit loosely. ‘In a bit. I've got to make a quick call.'

So as Elaine herded everyone on to the dance-floor I made my excuses and left. I tore outside, found a telephone box and called Ginny. My heart was racing as I listened to the ringing tone thinking that at any moment she'd pick up the phone and I could talk to her. But that moment never arrived. Her answering-machine was on. I wondered if she was screening her calls. I left a short, heartfelt message: ‘I'm sorry.' With that, I hung up and made my way back to the reunion.

The rest of the evening went by in a blur as, encouraged by Gershwin and Pete, I drank plastic cup after plastic cup of wine, beer and even Thunderbird. At ease with myself, thanks to the alcohol, I entered into conversation after conversation of the I-can't-believe-it's-you variety, the I-can't-believe-how-bald-you-are variety, and the I-can't-believe-you're-not-in-prison-yet variety. It was fantastic seeing all those people after all that time, even people I had actively disliked at school, like Penny Taylor (then, the girl most likely to start a fight with me; now, a magazine designer in London) and John Green (then, the boy most likely to throw a pair of compasses at your head for a laugh; now, a car mechanic in Coventry). Elaine seemed to be enjoying herself too. She'd made friends with Katrina, Bev and her husband and, on a couple of occasions, I'd spotted her encouraging them to dance as maniacally as she was to such illustrious eighties hits as Blondie's ‘Atomic', Musical Youth's ‘Pass The Dutchie' and Jan Hammer's ‘Theme To Miami Vice'.

I was on my way back from the toilets – thankfully we were allowed to use the staff ones – when I bumped into Katrina coming out of the ladies'.

‘Are you enjoying yourself at last?' she asked.

‘Yeah,' I replied. ‘You?'

‘Definitely.'

It occurred to me as we were walking back to the hall that I hadn't asked how her burgeoning relationship with Pete was going. She hadn't mentioned it all evening although they seemed to be reasonably friendly towards each other. I asked her directly.

‘Do you remember how the Pete we used to know was a work-shy, egotistical, science-fiction-obsessed loser?'

‘I wouldn't have described him exactly like that but I know what you're getting at.'

‘Well, he's nothing like that now. I'd always suspected it was the arrogance of youth and I was right. This new Pete is so lovely and adorable I could weep real tears. Since the get-together at the weekend either I've gone up to Manchester or he's come down to Stoke. We're like schoolkids or something, laughing, joking, phoning each other up three times a day just to say nothing. Okay, I'll admit he's not perfect – that geeky sci-fi obsession is too much to deal with sometimes, especially when he spends hours trying to prove to me just why the last three episodes of
Babylon Five
were the best three hours in television history – but this has got to be the best relationship I've had in, well, years.'

‘Congratulations, I'm really pleased for you.'

‘Well, we wouldn't have got together if it hadn't been for you.'

‘I don't know what to say to that,' I said. ‘I hope you're not trying to blame me or anything.'

‘I told you, it's the best relationship I've had in a long time.'

‘So you're sure it's a relationship?'

‘What do you mean?'

‘I mean, you know, you feel like it's going somewhere, that it's got some sort of direction . . . I suppose what I'm trying to say is, well, it's not just nostalgia, is it? Are you and Pete together because you like who each other is right now or is it because of who you used to be? Obviously I'm not saying it
is
like that. But I couldn't escape the feeling that sometimes that was all Ginny and I were about.'

‘I take it this has to do with her non-appearance tonight?'

I shrugged noncommittally.

‘Matt, you think too much. Getting together with Pete had nothing to do with old times. I didn't even fancy him back then! Okay, maybe just a little bit. But the point is, he's so lovely, we get on great and we're friends. I'm not going to reject him just 'cause he's part of my history too. That's madness.' Katrina gave me a look of intense exasperation, and disappeared.

All alone again, the music reduced to a far-away rumble I decided to take a walk around the darkened empty corridors of the school. Bizarrely, I was compelled to visit the boys' toilets, if only to remind myself how truly disgusting they'd been back then. I was surprised, and not a little horrified, to discover that they were exactly as I remembered them: graffiti on the doors, mysterious burn marks on the walls and, above my head, twenty or thirty years' worth of once wet toilet paper pellets encrusted on the ceiling. However, elsewhere there had been a lot of changes. I discovered that the old English block on the third floor was now apparently the geography block. The old geography block on the second floor was now the new business studies block. And the history block was now the maths block and where the old religious education/music room had disappeared to was anybody's guess. I finished my tour of the school at the doors of the art department and searched out Miss Pascoe's room. The door was locked so I peered inside through the reinforced-glass window. There was just enough light to make out some of Ginny's students' work: paintings, friezes and papier-mâché models. It looked exactly the same as when I was there.

Just as I made up my mind to go back to the party I heard the heavy doors to the main corridor open. I turned to look behind me and there was Ginny, standing in the shadows.

‘I got your message,' she said.

‘You were in?'

She nodded. ‘I was going to pick up the phone but . . . I didn't.'

‘So you haven't forgiven me, then?'

She peered into the room I'd been looking at. It was clear that she didn't want to answer this question quite yet. ‘I guess the school's changed a lot since you were last here,' she said.

‘Yeah, it has,' I replied. ‘Everything's shifted around.'

‘Except the art room,' she said, smiling.

‘Do you ever wish that we were all back here?'

‘I am.'

‘No, I mean all back here again at school or in the sixth form. They were good days, you know.'

‘They were.' She nodded.

There was a long silence, broken only by the sound of a group of people passing the door on their way upstairs. They were obviously doing the tour of the school, just as I had.

‘How did you know I'd be here?'

‘Katrina saw you go wandering off. My next stop after here was the gym.'

‘I hadn't thought of going there.' I considered what to say next. I wanted to get this sorted one way or the other
now
. ‘How's Ian?' I asked.

‘I don't know,' she replied. ‘I'm not seeing him any more.'

‘What happened?'

‘You know what happened, Matt. You happened.'

‘I'm sorry,' I said. ‘I'm sorry about everything. I'm sorry if I hurt you. I didn't mean to. When I said to you that I wanted to be with you, that I was prepared to stay here and try to make whatever we had work, I meant it.'

‘I meant it too.'

‘The thing is, when I thought about us, I could never work out why we were together. I don't mean it like that. I mean – well, we're obviously attracted to each other.'

Ginny smiled. ‘Obviously.'

‘But every time we get together it never seems to work out.'

‘True.'

‘I really did think this time would be different. But I don't know . . . I think after I learnt about Elliot dying and all that, it just changed the way I looked at things. I suddenly knew that I couldn't take anything for granted any more.'

‘I know,' she said. ‘I felt like that when Mum died.'

‘The thing is whatever it is about you that I like, well I don't want to take it for granted any more. But at the same time I don't want to spoil it either. I'm tired of being scared, Ginny. I want to give us a go.'

‘You don't,' said Ginny. ‘Not really. You just think you do. You think that us getting together will be the answer to everything. And if I'm honest that's exactly what I've been thinking too. It would be so easy for us to get together, Matt, because I really do love you. But you know as well as I do that it'll never work because at the back of our minds there would always be this shred of doubt that we're only together because we're scared of being on our own.'

Even though at that very moment I wanted more than anything for us to be together I had to agree that Ginny was right. I was scared of being alone. ‘What do we do then?' I asked eventually.

‘We stay friends,' she replied.

‘But don't you think it's kind of sad that we've never got it together properly?' I asked. ‘Don't you think it's sad that we'll never know for sure whether us getting together would've been the best thing ever . . .'

‘Or a complete nightmare.' She smiled. ‘You're forgetting one thing.'

‘What?'

‘The thing we do know.'

‘Which is?'

‘That we make good friends.' She paused. ‘Shall we get back to the party?'

‘Yeah of course,' I replied.

‘Matt?'

‘Yeah?'

‘This is going to sound strange but . . .'

‘What?'

‘Katrina told me your ex-girlfriend Elaine is here.'

‘And?'

‘I'd like to meet her.'

‘Why?'

She smiled and shrugged. ‘I'm just curious that's all.'

Dear Elaine

First off thanks for the card and present – your Happy Birthday Snoopy card was v. tasteful and the self-assembly wine rack that accompanied it has pride of place in my kitchen. Life here in Australia is cool. My apartment is fantastic. (And so ultra-tidy that I scare myself. I went to bed last night leaving a Chinese takeaway foil container on a table in the living room and I had to get up ten minutes later to put it in the bin. That's how freaky I am.) As for my love-life, which you so coyly enquired about (‘So, come on, tell me, Matt? Who's blowing your bagpipes?') I'm afraid to say it's been a bit quiet. I was seeing a girl at work for a while but I don't know, she was nice and everything. But she didn't have . . . that thing. So I suppose I'll have to keep on looking. Glad to hear, however, that the single life for you is still as eventful as ever. To be truthful I didn't like the sound of Harry in advertising (too full of himself) or Woody the musician (a thirty-two-year-old who thinks he's twenty-two – how sad) but I liked that last guy, Carl, he had some good points (and reminded me a little of me) and you were way too hard on him.

You asked how Gershwin, Zoë and Charlotte are, and the news is they're all fine. Gershwin has finally packed in his job and is going to university in October to be a mature student and study history. Why history? I have no idea. But they've got quite a bit of money saved up so they'll be fine. Charlotte's cool too. She's loving school and doing very well but apparently she misses my ability to make farty noises on the back of my hand. Katrina and Pete, who you met on my birthday, called me recently to say they've got engaged. Katrina was apparently dead set against it but Pete managed to persuade her it was a good idea. I heard via Katrina that Bev is okay too – which reminds me I must give her a call soon. And finally Ginny. She's changed schools now and this one is apparently a lot less hectic. She's still single although there was a brief thing with a guy at her new school (thankfully this one wasn't attached) but that's all over now. In fact, she called me yesterday to wish me happy birthday and to say that now she's single again she's thinking about coming over to visit me over Easter to see if I can fix her up with any good-looking Australian guys. I told her I'll see what I can do. And that – as they say – is the news.