What Might Have Been (25 page)

After a minute, though to Evan it felt like a lifetime, Sarah emerged from the bathroom, her make-up intact, a slight redness around the eyes the only sign of her distress. But when he stood up and reached for her, she couldn’t look him in the eye.

‘Don’t say anything,’ she commanded, pushing her way past him on her way to the door.

‘But . . .’

‘Just
don’t
!’

Evan watched her go, the sinking feeling in his stomach telling him they’d been here before, then he flopped back down onto his bed and gazed up at the ceiling, unsure what to make of what had just happened. She’d initiated the evening’s events, after all, even suggesting – no,
insisting
– they go back to his. In the car, he’d wanted to ask her again whether she was sure, though he hadn’t dared, and then, when they’d breathlessly reached his flat, words had seemed inappropriate. They’d both known what they wanted. What to do. And instinct had taken over.

He thought back to the last time they’d slept together, when things had been so different. Sarah wasn’t engaged. He hadn’t known about David. This whole baby thing hadn’t existed – though maybe that night had even been
when
she got pregnant. While it had been fantastic, there had been none of this kind of emotional
significance –
and this
had
been emotionally significant. Evan almost felt like crying himself.

How different it might have been had they suspected how things were going to change – after all, how could you sleep with someone if you knew you were never going to see them again? For Evan, the emotional connection was a major part of making love – he had to be able to let himself go, not hold himself back. That was key to his enjoyment, and in the past, he’d only really been able to let himself go with anyone when he thought they might have a future together. The concept of the ‘farewell fuck’? He’d never understood that.

And then, to his horror, it hit him.

Maybe that was what this had been.

43

S
arah tried hard to maintain her composure as she walked into work, sure the events of the previous evening were etched on her face for all to see. Her tears had started again the moment she’d left Evan’s flat, and she’d cried in the taxi all the way home, so much so that the driver hadn’t even had a chance to begin the usual diatribe about immigration or who he’d had in the back of his cab recently, and instead had silently passed her a box of tissues through the connecting window.

She swallowed hard, and told herself this was ridiculous, but then again, her behaviour last night had been ridiculous too. She’d suspected Evan might be there as soon as they’d arrived at The G-Spot, and yet she hadn’t vetoed Grace’s suggestion that they go inside. Perhaps she’d just wanted to take a stroll down memory lane, but now she’d ended up going a lot further down that particular road than perhaps was advisable.

The moment she’d kissed him, she’d known they’d end up sleeping together. No – she’d suspected that before she kissed him, perhaps even
if
she kissed him, and she was the one who’d initiated the kiss, so what did that tell her? Though perhaps she
could
blame that on him – the way he’d played, the music toying with her emotions, getting under her skin, making her heart pound so loudly she’d been sure Grace had been able to hear it. And the fact he’d played
that
song – Sarah was sure she hadn’t been the only woman in the club thinking about ripping his clothes off after a performance like that.

And speaking of performances, the sex had been fantastic. Incredible. Mind-blowing, even. For the past year, she’d justified her previous, albeit brief, two-timing of David by dismissing what she’d been up to with Evan as simply fucking, but now she’d reminded herself that actually it had been simply fucking amazing.

She swiped her way in past reception, reminding herself that at least halfway through she’d suddenly had a pang of conscience, as if keeping going would be going too far, but given everything else they’d done before halfway, who had she been trying to kid? And while she felt guilty about getting up and leaving like that, she’d got up and left like that because she’d felt guilty – surely Evan would understand that?

She’d been desperate to talk things over when she’d got home, but by the time the taxi had dropped her off, Grace had been in bed, and she hadn’t had the heart to wake her. Then Grace had already left for work by the time Sarah had dragged herself out of bed this morning, and while she’d thought about calling her, she hadn’t known what to say. She still hadn’t made sense of it herself, apart from realising one thing: by fucking Evan, she might have fucked everything up.

She rode the elevator up to her floor, hurried along the corridor, then stopped abruptly in her office doorway, trying not to panic at the thought she might not have switched her PC off when she’d left yesterday. If Evan had emailed, his message might be up there on her computer screen, and given that David was sitting at her desk, idly flicking through a copy of the
Financial Times
, it would be in plain view. Dreading the prospect of an early-morning interrogation, she took a deep breath, then thankfully recalled how Evan had told her he didn’t really ‘do’ email, unlike David, whom she’d had to ban from taking his Blackberry to bed. Hoping nothing about her body language would give her away, she fixed a smile on her face and walked over to where he was sitting.

‘Morning,’ she said, as brightly as she could muster.

‘Morning, sweetheart.’ David looked up from his paper and – once he’d checked no-one was watching – angled his face so Sarah could plant a kiss on his cheek. ‘What are you doing here?’

David smiled. ‘I work here. Remember?’

‘No, silly.’ Sarah ruffled the hair on the top of his head. ‘I mean
here
. In with us common people.’

David tapped his finger on his lips. ‘Keep your voice down,’ he said, jovially. While that might have been how he referred to them in private, he wouldn’t want Sarah to let it slip, even though she was, of course, one of them – until Saturday, at least. ‘I thought I’d see if you were free for lunch.’

‘Lunch?’ Sarah tried – and failed – to keep the surprise out of her voice. She and David never had lunch together during the week, and in fact, apart from the donuts she’d given him the other day, she wasn’t sure he ever actually ate lunch. Sure, she’d occasionally see him disappear with one of the other partners on a Friday, but food wasn’t usually on the agenda, and if they made it back to the office, there’d be no more work for the day, so to actually suggest going and eating something with her, and on a
Wednesday
. . . At once, she was suspicious, but Sarah knew she couldn’t let it show.

‘Sure. That’d be nice.’

‘Sushi do you?’

‘Why not?’

‘Great.’ He hauled himself out of the chair and made for the door. ‘I’ll come by at one. Sharp.’

Sarah bristled a little at the word ‘sharp’, but forced a smile. ‘Lovely,’ she said.

‘Oh, I forgot,’ said David, stopping in the doorway. ‘Did you have a good time last night?’

Sarah froze. ‘Last night?’

‘Yes. Didn’t you go out?’

‘With Grace,’ said Sarah, quickly.

‘I know. She told me.’

‘When?’ asked Sarah, nervously.

‘I phoned when you were in the shower, or putting your face on, or whatever it is you girls do in the four or five hours it takes you to leave the house. Grace answered your mobile. Didn’t she say?’

‘No. No, she didn’t.’

‘Ah.’ He raised both eyebrows. ‘So, did you? Have a good time?’

She stared at him, then decided to tell the truth. ‘Yes.’

‘Good.’ He smiled again. ‘See you at one.’

‘Sharp,’ said Sarah, saluting to his back as he walked out into the corridor.

She hurried over and shut her door behind him, then went back to her desk, picked up David’s discarded paper, and dropped it in her waste-bin. In truth, she could have done without what was sure to be an awkward lunch after last night, but she could hardly have said no. And while it occurred to her to email him later to say she was busy, work wasn’t a valid excuse if your boss was the one asking you.

Her phone buzzed in her bag – she’d left the ringer set to ‘vibrate’ after Evan had kept calling her last night – and when she pulled it out and saw his number flashing on the display, she was glad she hadn’t changed it back to ‘ring’. He’d called five times this morning too, and it was easier to ignore this way.

For a moment she wondered whether she should answer it, just to check he was okay. But he’d want to talk about what had happened, and while Sarah knew they’d have to – and soon – for now, she put the phone down on her desk and stared at it until the ‘
voicemail
’ icon appeared on the screen. Though she didn’t bother listening to the message. She could probably guess what it said.

She wondered what on earth she’d been thinking, though the truth was, she hadn’t. She’d kind of been on autopilot, enjoying Evan’s familiar touch, the feel of him – that was, until the tears had started – and they’d been the biggest surprise of this whole episode. Sarah wasn’t a crier, never had been, even at her father’s funeral, where she’d maintained her composure while those around her, grown men in some cases, had bawled their eyes out, and yet since Evan had appeared in her life, she’d more than made up for it. Scarcely seconds after the fireworks had finished going off inside her, she’d looked down to see him gazing up at her, the expression on his face something she’d never seen before. The look of love, she’d realised – she’d heard the song, but never actually seen it for real – though there had been something else there too: a sadness, maybe. Sadness that perhaps he was too late. Sadness at missing a year of this. And perhaps sadness because he’d suspected this might be goodbye. And that had been enough to set Sarah off.

She’d never wanted to hurt him, and at that precise moment, she’d seen just how much she had. She could tell he’d been surprised by the intensity of their love-making – she’d surprised herself. Maybe it had been because she’d realised it was what she’d been missing, though Sarah couldn’t allow herself to believe that
he
was what she’d been missing. When she’d seen him up on stage, the memories – the
feelings
– had come flooding back, and she’d known that she’d go home with him if he asked her, just like she’d known she would a year ago, even though this time, like then, she’d had to ask
him
. And the funny thing was, this time, just like then, she’d hardly given David a second thought.

David
. She felt a second surge of panic, and grabbed the edge of her desk for support. What if Evan had already told him?
Perhaps
that’s what today’s lunch was all about. It would be just like David not to fly off the handle when he found out about the two of them, but to schedule a ‘meeting’ to discuss the matter. But what excuse could she give, what reason as to why what had happened
happened
? Nothing that David would buy, surely, and certainly nothing that he might forgive.

She could brazen it out, of course, deny anything had happened, but David would be able to tell she was lying, and anyway, after everything he’d done for her, it was time to stop lying to David. She picked up her phone, then headed down the hallway and into the toilet, locking the door behind her, and as she stared at her reflection in the mirror, wondering how it had come to this, she realised something. She had only herself to blame.

As if on cue, her mobile buzzed again, and Sarah didn’t need to look at the screen to know who was calling.

44

E
van stuffed his mobile angrily back into his pocket, then pulled it out again and hit ‘redial’. Sarah hadn’t answered her phone all morning, and short of marching into her office and confronting her, he didn’t know how else to get in touch.

He crossed Bermondsey Street, then headed under the viaduct on his way to the G-Spot, scowling at a Lycra-clad cycle messenger barrelling down in the wrong direction. So far, he wasn’t enjoying being in love, though he suspected his problem was that it was unrequited – surely no-one would want to feel like this all the time in a normal relationship?

At the sound of her voicemail, he cursed under his breath and ended the call. He’d already left a message that had simply said ‘call me’ – he’d been worried about rambling on like a fool – and maybe she would call, in time, but meanwhile, the waiting was something he hated. He was used to auditions, and their familiar ‘we’ll let you know’, but nothing like this, where the outcome was so important. Besides, Sarah hadn’t said she’d let him know – though whether she’d been trying to let him know something the previous evening, he still wasn’t sure.

He found it hard to believe that last night had been goodbye, though maybe that
had
been her intention, and therefore why she’d left in tears. And while Evan suspected the reason she wasn’t answering her phone this morning was because she was confused – which he had to see as a good thing – a part of him feared it was because she had nothing more to say to him.

He stared at his phone again, just in case he’d missed her call in the twenty or so seconds since he’d last checked it, and wondered if she was punishing him – but for what? She’d picked
him
up last night, just like she had a year ago, and he’d even – half-heartedly, admittedly – tried to stop her. He could only hope that what happened between them might kick-start some feeling in her she thought she’d buried, or some realisation that
he
was the one she wanted to be with, not David. Though as confident as he was about his prowess in bed – or rather, how good he and Sarah were together – he had to question how it fitted into her overall scheme of things, and while Evan knew he could never marry someone for whom making love seemed to be a chore you performed before going to sleep, like brushing your teeth, or checking the front door was locked, he had to cling on to the hope that that was how David approached it. After all, he’d seen David having sex, and the girl at the club hadn’t seemed to be enjoying it one bit . . .

He shook his head to get rid of the memory, replacing it with a vision of Sarah from the previous evening. Surely she couldn’t ignore the passion, the spark, the way they just
worked
? With a last check of his phone, he walked up to the club’s front door and knocked loudly, and after a few moments, Mel cracked the
door ope
n.

‘Afternoon.’

‘Is it?’ Mel checked his watch to make sure, then opened the door just wide enough to allow Evan inside.

‘Yup.’

‘Phew,’ he said, lighting a cigarette and taking a drag. ‘For a moment, I thought I’d overslept.’

‘You stayed here last night?’

‘What can I say? The missus doesn’t always appreciate me
rolling
in at five in the morning after a night of booze and fags.’

‘Maybe she should stop smoking and drinking, then.’

Mel grinned at Evan’s joke, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he made his way round behind the bar. ‘So, did it feel good to be back up there last night? I mean on stage. And not, you know . . .’

‘Thank you, Mel!’

He let out a low, rumbling laugh as he retrieved a couple of mugs from underneath the bar. ‘It’s just that I saw her sucking the face off you, and then you didn’t hang around for an encore. Mind you, neither did she, by the looks of you today.’ He grinned again as he switched on the coffee machine, then caught sight of Evan’s miserable expression. ‘Sorry. Want to tell me about it?’

Evan shrugged. ‘It’s pretty much like you said. And now she won’t answer her phone.’

‘Poor you. Though not the having sex part, obviously, lucky bastard.’ Mel positioned the mugs underneath the machine’s twin spouts, then pressed a button on the front, and the machine whirred into life. ‘So, what do you think it means?’

Evan felt the familiar craving as he watched the brown liquid sputter into the mugs, consoling himself that in his profession, there were worse things to be addicted to. ‘God knows. For a moment,
I tho
ught I had her.’

‘Was that before or after you
actually
had her?’

‘Mel,
please
.’

Mel waited until the machine finished buzzing, then handed him a mug. ‘Just trying to inject some humour into the situation.’

‘Well, don’t.’

‘Sorry.’ He pulled himself stiffly up onto the adjacent stool. ‘So what happened?’

‘I don’t know what happened. One minute she was there, and the next, she was running out of the door as if the fire alarm had gone off.’

‘Why do you think that was?’

‘Because she’s confused. I know I am.’

‘Course she is. I mean, it’s hardly rational behaviour, is it? Sleeping with someone else a couple of days before your wedding.’

‘No,’ agreed Evan. ‘Unless . . .’

‘Unless?’

He swallowed hard. ‘She was just saying goodbye.’

‘Doubtful.’ Mel blew on his coffee, then took a sip. ‘That’s one of the fundamental differences between men and women. We’ll happily shag someone even if we know we’re never going to see them again, but they just can’t do that. Some hormonal bollocks, apparently.’

‘Really? None of your exes ever done that to you?’

‘Nowhere near as many as I’d have liked.’ Mel laughed, and when Evan couldn’t help but smile, clapped him on the back. ‘No, the way I see it, what happened last night must have re-awakened some feelings deep inside her – stuff she thought was hidden – and she doesn’t want to speak to you because she hasn’t been able to figure them out yet.’

‘She’s had a year to figure them out, Mel.’ Evan shook his head. ‘Maybe I am wasting my time. I mean, last year, she slept with me, then virtually told me where to go. And she’s pretty much doing the same thing again.’

‘Ah,’ said Mel, shiftily.

‘“Ah” what?’

He sucked on his cigarette, then flicked the ash into a nearby wine glass. ‘There’s something I haven’t told you. About what
happened
a year ago.’

‘I know you told her about the tour, Mel, before I had a chance to. It wasn’t your fault.’

‘Right. Well, I, er, might have also said something about how maybe she should . . .’ He cleared his throat. ‘Encourage you to go.’

‘What?’

Mel held both hands up. ‘I know, I know. But in my defence, she’d told me that you and her were just a bit of fun.’

‘She said that?’ Evan stared at him incredulously. ‘Is that supposed to make me feel better?’

‘Well, no, obviously. Except the more I think about it, the more I realise something.’

‘Which is?’

‘She was lying.’

‘How can you be sure of that?’

Mel grinned. ‘When you look like me, women lie to you all the time.
It’s not you, it’s me. I’m married. I can’t sleep with you, it’s my time of the month
. That kind of thing. Eventually, you learn to spot the signs. And more importantly, she only told me that
after
I’d told her about the tour.’

‘And how does that help me, exactly?’

‘I said you needed to go for the good of your career. The fact that she was prepared to give you a push . . .’ He clinked his coffee cup against Evan’s. ‘She must have cared for you.’

‘So why suddenly announce that she had a boyfriend?’

‘What better way to get you to think there was no future for the two of you?’

‘I don’t know, Mel. Surely last night proves how little she thinks of me?’

Mel took a mouthful of coffee. ‘Quite the opposite. If you were planning to marry someone in a few days’ time, you’d hardly go out looking for some meaningless shag with someone else, would you?’

‘David did. A lap-dancer. On his stag night.’

‘Really?’ Mel raised both eyebrows. ‘Excellent!’

‘Why is that excellent?’

‘Well, because that wasn’t meaningless either. It proves how little he thinks of Sarah. And more importantly, it means you’ve won. Just tell her that, and . . .’

‘. . . and she’ll think they’re quits, after last night.’

‘Ah.’ Mel’s face fell, then he brightened up again. ‘Or, more likely, she’ll take both of those events as a sign that neither of them should be marrying the other one. Look at the facts.’ He put his coffee down, jammed his cigarette into the corner of his mouth, and started to count off on his fingers. ‘One: She had enough doubts about marrying what’s-his-face to come and seek you out, what, three days before her wedding, and back in the place the two of you first met. No-one puts themselves in that kind of position unless they want to give in to temptation. Two:
She
kissed
you
. And three: She went to bed with you. At any point, she could have stopped and gone home, but she didn’t.’

‘Until afterwards.’

‘Yeah, but that’s guilt kicking in, isn’t it? She’s hardly going to lie there and make sweet nothing small talk with you, is she? Not when she realises she’s just done the worst thing possible to her ex-husband-to-be and is going to have to call her wedding off.’ He nodded, evidently happy with his summing-up. ‘Can you really see her going through with it now?’

Evan sipped his coffee glumly. ‘I don’t know. Now I’ve met David, I can’t see why she’d have got engaged to him in the first place, but she went and did that.’

‘And did you ask her why?’

‘Well, er, no. Not exactly.’

Mel rolled his eyes. ‘Christ, Evan. How can you expect to win if you don’t know what you’re up against?’

‘I’m not expecting to
win
, Mel. I just want to hold my own.’

‘That’s the only thing you will be holding if you don’t . . .’

‘Mel,
please
. And it’s not a competition. It’s a choice.’

‘From where I’m sitting, she seems to have made hers last night.’

‘Well if she did, she changed her mind straight afterwards.’ Evan put his mug down on the bar. ‘Help me, Mel. I don’t know what to do next.’

‘Tell her about the lap-dancer. That might just be enough to make sure the wedding didn’t go ahead. Or tell him that you slept with his fiancée. That definitely would.’

Evan shook his head. He knew he could try to sabotage the wedding by confessing all about last night to David, but would he believe him? After all, where was the proof? All Sarah had to do was deny it, and besides, he didn’t want to try to ‘win’ back the woman he loved like that – not if he wanted Sarah to have any respect for him afterwards.

‘That wouldn’t be fair.’

‘Fair?’ Mel stared at him. ‘You don’t want to be fair. This is all about you convincing her you’re her Mr. Right – and you won’t score any points by being Mr. Righteous. It’s not one of those occasions where you can look back and say
Oh well, I did my best
. You’ve got to do your worst too – and quickly. Otherwise it’s going to eat you up until the day you die.’

Evan stared back at him. Even though he suspected Mel was right, and while the prospect of feeling this bad for the rest of his life almost made him want to pick up the phone and tell David straight away, he knew it would be wrong. As to what he’d do if she still chose David . . . well, he hadn’t allowed himself to think that far ahead. He’d be devastated, of course, but life would go on. Though as for playing any more jazz, right now the blues were more his style.

He sighed, then shook his head slowly. ‘I can’t, Mel.’

‘Why the hell not?’

‘Because I want her to choose me for who I am. Not because of something bad that David’s done.’

‘No?’

‘No!’

Mel didn’t say anything, but just rolled up his sleeve and tapped his watch exaggeratedly.