What Might Have Been (16 page)

28

E
van watched the numbers count down on the display, not
knowing
what to do next. The other lifts were all on different floors, so he sprinted for the stairs, taking them two at a time as he fought his way through the hordes of dawdling visitors. As fit as he was, he knew seven flights of stairs was a big ask against the
gallery’s
modern lift system, and as he’d feared, by the time he reached the ground floor, Sarah was nowhere to be seen.

He ran through the turbine hall, up the ramp, then round towards the South Bank, scanning the crowds anxiously, not knowing which way she’d gone, before collapsing helplessly onto the nearest bench and putting his head in his hands. His hair was still wet from the soaking Sarah had given him, and water dripped from it onto the pavement in front of him; with his chest heaving from the effort of the run, any casual observer could be forgiven for thinking he was crying.

Cursing softly, he caught his breath, then leaned back and stared up at the cloudless sky. He’d seen some dramatic exits in his time, and he had to hand it to her – that had been by far the best one. And while he hadn’t expected Sarah to pay him back for crashing her bridal shower by giving
him
a drenching, at least he’d had a chance to state his case. To say what he’d come back to say. And if she still didn’t want to see him after that, well, he’d just have to find a way to live with it. After he’d exhausted every opportunity to change her mind, of course.

He replayed their conversation in his head, still a little troubled by Sarah’s ‘what are you offering?’ remark. Had she meant
financially
? Thanks to the tour he was a little more secure, although nowhere near what he imagined David’s league was, but while he knew he couldn’t compete with David on paper, that didn’t worry him; real life was never played out on paper.

He shook the water from his hair, then hauled himself up off the bench and headed west along the South Bank, not really sure where he was going. The cinema at the NFT was showing Capra’s
It’s a Wonderful Life
, but that was the last thing Evan wanted to see, particularly since he didn’t actually believe that it was. Not after what had just happened.

As he reached the top of the steps by Waterloo Bridge, a jogger heading in the opposite direction almost knocked him back down them. She was pretty, and about Sarah’s age, and as she smiled her apology at him, her expression changed to one of surprise.

‘You’re him, aren’t you?’ she said, pulling her headphones out of her ears and jogging back over to where he was standing.

Evan made a face. ‘No I’m not,’ he said, continuing on his way.

‘Yes you are,’ she said, running backwards in front of him as she studied his face, but as Evan tried to go around her, she blocked his way, then put both hands on his shoulders.

‘Yes?’

‘You’re . . .’ She stared at him, then let out a frustrated yelp. ‘No, you’re going to have to tell me.’

‘Tell you what?’

‘Who you are.’

Evan frowned. ‘So hang on. You stop me and tell me I’m someone, then you have to ask me who it is that you think I am?’

The woman was still jogging on the spot in front of him, dodging from side to side, preventing him from passing. ‘Yeah. Come on.’

Evan shrugged. ‘The Pope? Nelson Mandela?’

‘No, silly!’ The woman grinned. ‘That guy from that band. You know who I mean.’

Evan felt the familiar sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. ‘What band?’

‘You were on TV the other day.’ The woman was hopping from one foot to another now, as if she needed the toilet. ‘Some programme about one-hit wonders. “Where Are They Now”, it was called. Or something like that.’

Evan sighed resignedly, realising there was only one way out of this. ‘Jazzed?’

The woman shook her head. ‘No. I’m just out of breath from my run.’

‘No, the band. It . . . We were called Jazzed.’

‘I don’t think that was it.’

‘Yes it was. I should know. I came up with the name.’

‘Jazzed?’ The woman narrowed her eyes and thought for a moment. ‘What was your biggest hit?’

‘Do you remember the theme to Rising Falls?’

‘Never heard of it. Name another one.’

Evan looked at her. ‘What was that programme about again?’

‘One-hit wonders. Why?’ The woman stared back at him, then realisation dawned. ‘Ah. Right. Sorry. So how did the theme from . . . What was it?’

‘Rising Falls.’

‘
Rising Falls
go?’

‘Forgetting for one moment the fact that I don’t have my
sax with
me, you surely don’t expect me to play it, here on the street?’

The woman looked as if that was exactly what she expected him to do. ‘You could hum it?’ she suggested.

Evan raised his eyes to the heavens and mentally counted to five. ‘Listen, it’s always a pleasure to meet a fan, but you’re quite clearly not one, so if you don’t mind . . .’

As he resumed his journey, the woman’s face fell. ‘Okay,’ she called after him, disappointedly. ‘Sorry. But it was nice
meeting yo
u.’

Whoever you are?
said Evan, under his breath. He kept on walking, then heard footsteps running up behind him, so he swivelled around, hoping it might be Sarah.

‘Me again,’ said the woman, then she reached into the pocket of her running top and removed a sweat-moistened business card. ‘Here.’

‘What’s this for?’

The woman blushed, which, given how her face was already red from her run, made her look as if she was suffering from sunstroke. ‘In case you fancied a coffee some time,’ she said, giving him the briefest of smiles before jogging off in the opposite direction.

Evan shook his head as he watched her go, and realised he
did
fancy a coffee – along with the side order of advice Finn usually served up with it, so he changed direction and headed towards
Borough
High Street. As he walked, he examined the card the woman had just given him, then tossed it into the nearest bin. Under different circumstances he might have taken her up on her offer, but given his current obsession with Sarah, he’d barely registered it. This had been a common occurrence on tour, and one of the reasons he’d known the thing with Sarah was unfinished
business
– despite all the women he’d met in the U.S., he just hadn’t found himself interested in anyone else. Hadn’t even slept with
anyone
for the best part of six months, and even when he had, it had been down to loneliness rather than anything else – once, Evan had been
plucking
at a guitar during rehearsals, and a girl had come over to tell him the song he’d been playing was nice. He hadn’t had the heart to tell her he’d just been tuning the instrument, and then later that evening, hadn’t had the heart to tell her he didn’t want to sleep with
her eith
er.

Strangely, if anything, it had only made him more sure of how he felt about Sarah. He’d woken up in shame the following morning, almost as if he’d been unfaithful, and had tried to justify what he’d done by telling himself that everyone had one-night stands. Maybe, he sometimes feared, that was what Sarah had been. But you didn’t fall in love with someone you had a one-night stand with – and he had to hope that Sarah saw things the same way. What he’d do if she didn’t, he didn’t dare think about.

He reached the café and peered in through the window, pleased for his friend that the place was pretty busy, then spotted a poster advertising some upcoming nineties revival night on the wall next to their framed gold disc, the thought of which made Evan
shudder
. While Finn still played at the odd nostalgia gig, he’d never been tempted to join him, always of the mind that you should never try to relive past glories – although he found it ironic that he was ignoring his own advice where Sarah was concerned. He pushed the heavy glass door open, loosened his coat at the blast of heat that hit him, and made his way towards the counter, where Finn was noisily frothing a jug of milk. Smiling at the woman waiting by the till, he cleared his throat loudly.

‘I’ve got a complaint!’ he shouted.

Finn stopped what he was doing. ‘Well, the doctor’s surgery is two doors down,’ he said, then he looked up, a huge smile on his face. ‘Look what the cat dragged in.’

‘Nice to see you too.’

Finn poured the milk into a large paper cup and clicked a
plastic
lid onto the top. ‘Give me just one second,’ he said,
handing
it to the woman, then he leaned over the counter, grabbed Evan’s face by the cheeks, and gave him a loud kiss on the
forehead
.

‘What did you do that for?’ Evan wiped his forehead with his sleeve. ‘It’s embarrassing.’

‘That’s why I did it!’ Finn winked at him as he took the
woman’s
money and rang it through the till. ‘When did you get back?’

‘Couple of days ago.’ Evan looked him up and down carefully. ‘How are you? Been looking after yourself ?’

‘I’m good. And yes, thanks, Mum.’ Finn squeezed him affectionately on the upper arm, doing a double-take at the muscle he could feel. ‘Touring life suits you, I see?’

Evan shrugged. ‘Oh, you know.’

‘I wish I did, mate.’ He made a face. ‘Does Johnny know you’re back?’

Evan shook his head. ‘Not yet. Why?’

‘No reason.’ Finn grinned. ‘So what brings you here?’

‘Couldn’t resist one of your coffees.’

‘After a year of drinking that American sludge I’m not surprised. What can I get you? Your usual?’

‘Great. Thanks.’

‘Anything with it?’

Evan peered up at the chalk board on the back wall for
inspiration
, but couldn’t find any. ‘Some advice, maybe.’

‘Advice?’ Finn retrieved a couple of tiny espresso cups and placed them on the machine’s drip tray. ‘What about?’

‘Marriage.’

Finn raised both eyebrows. ‘Marriage?’

‘It’s, um, for a song I’m writing.’

Finn shook his head as he loaded the machine with coffee. ‘Pull the other one, Evan.’

‘Okay. Well, I’m just trying to make sure a friend of mine is making the right decision, that’s all.’

‘A “friend”?’

‘Sarah.’

Finn smiled knowingly. Evan had told him about Sarah’s newspaper announcement in a drunken late-night phone call a few weeks earlier. ‘In that case,’ he said, exchanging the cups for larger ones, ‘I’d better make them doubles.’

‘So, I was wondering,’ said Evan, struggling to make himself heard over the noise from the coffee machine. ‘When you ask someone to marry you . . .’

‘What about it?’

‘Well, how do you know it’s the right thing to do?’

Finn regarded him curiously. ‘Shouldn’t you be asking David that?’

‘Will you just answer the question, rather than giving me grief ?’

‘Sorry.’ Finn carried their coffees over to a window table, and Evan followed him obediently. ‘Well, I’m afraid you’ll only really know afterwards.’

Evan’s jaw dropped open. ‘After you’ve got married?’

‘No. After you’ve proposed. It’s one of those questions. It never feels quite right in the lead-up to it. You almost always stumble over the words, and in fact, it’s not until you’ve actually given them life – like when you play a piece of music for the first time – that you know whether it sounds right.’

‘Yeah, but . . .’ Evan sipped his espresso as he stared out into the street. ‘How can you tell?’

‘Because if it does, it’s the best thing in the world. Better than sex, even.’ Finn laughed at Evan’s expression. ‘But it can be the shortest-lived feeling ever too. Depending . . .’

‘On?’

Finn reached over and rested a hand on Evan’s shoulder. ‘Her answer. Remember, she’ll probably have put as much thought into that as you have into the proposal.’

‘Great.’ Evan put his coffee cup back down miserably. ‘So what you’re saying is, because she’s said yes to
him
, that she’s already made her choice, and so I shouldn’t bother?’

‘Not necessarily.’ Finn smiled at him across the table. ‘Did it ever occur to you to wonder why Sarah started seeing you, when she was already going out with him?’

‘Well, she must have, you know . . .’

‘What?’

Evan felt himself colour. ‘Liked what she saw.’

Finn smirked. ‘More likely she was trying to make her
mind up.
’

‘About what?’

‘David. Because that’s normally what people do when they’re trying to select something. Look at you and the Police gig. It all came down to you and that one other bloke, didn’t it?’

‘I guess,’ said Evan. ‘Although I didn’t know that at the time.’

‘Not unlike the Sarah situation.’ Finn laughed. ‘But there you go. Whatever you want, if it’s a car, or a house, you draw up a shortlist, right? Except you can’t do that when you’re dating, can you? Can’t normally see two people at the same time, then decide which one you like.’