About a Girl (41 page)

I loved that she talked to my door. I loved that she was sprawled across my living-room floor with a Tesco bag in her hand, effing and blinding at an inanimate object.

‘So you’re back then?’ she said, dusting off her skinny jeans and leaping on top of me. ‘I have missed you, you daft mare.’

‘I thought you hated me?’ I tried to find the energy to roll over and hug her, but it wasn’t so easy when she had me pinned. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘You don’t get rid of me that easily, Brookes.’ Amy wrapped her arms round the back of my neck, contorted herself into a horizontal piggyback and started dry-humping my legs. If we had been naked and covered in jelly, there would probably have been some money to be made. ‘I lost my temper. I’m the one who’s sorry. Anyway, you’re back! It doesn’t matter!’

‘I’m back,’ I repeated, once again freaking out at the overwhelming feeling that I’d never been away. ‘And you’re OK?’

‘It was weird that everything happened while you were away,’ she said, shuffling over until we were comfortably spooning. ‘It was like, if you’d been here, we would have gone out and I would have got drunk and you would have been dead sensible, given me a lecture and sorted me out.’

‘You’re making me sound like a right barrel of laughs,’ I interrupted. ‘I’m not your mum.’

‘No, I didn’t mean it in a bad way,’ she said, slapping me round the back of the head. I shut up. ‘I meant you would have made it better in a Tess way, so I wouldn’t really have had to work anything out on my own. But because you weren’t here, I did. And, yeah, I think it’s OK.’

I pouted into my pillow. ‘What did you do? Or should I be too afraid to ask?’

‘I went for a drink with Dave,’ she said. ‘And it was nice.’

‘Oh, Aims.’ I could see it all now ? one too many glasses of wine, reminiscing about old times but conveniently forgetting that time she threw a melon at him in the middle of the big Asda on the A3. ‘You didn’t?’

‘Have a little faith, knobber,’ she replied. ‘Actually, I had one drink, I went to the loo, and I thought, what would Tess do?’

‘So you got on a plane and vanished to Hawaii under an assumed name?’

‘No, I thought, Tess would give him a hug, tell him congratulations, and then go home. So that’s what I did. Via the supermarket for a massive bottle of wine and all the Dairy Milk I could carry.’

‘Wow, that’s pretty sensible.’ I patted her on the head, impressed.

‘I know. I did wonder if we’d accidentally made a wish and, like, swapped bodies or something, but I think, actually, I just had to grow up a little bit because you weren’t here to be the grown-up.’

‘That’s terrifying,’ I said, pulling a stray strand of hair out of my mouth. ‘I haven’t really had that much influence over your decisions for the past twenty-seven years, Amy.’

‘Yeah, you have.’ She shrugged and gave me a squeeze. ‘But I didn’t really give you much of a choice, did I? You were the sensible one and I was the crazy one. Looks like we’d both had enough of our assigned roles at exactly the same time.’

‘You mean, now you’re the sensible one and I’m the crazy one?’ I asked, fighting sleep with every breath.

‘Maybe we could go fifty-fifty,’ she suggested. ‘Let’s be honest, I shouldn’t be left to my own devices for too long.’

‘And as it turns out, neither should I.’ I yawned loudly. ‘What time is it? Can I go to bed yet?’

‘You’re not getting a wink until you tell me everything,’ she said, rubbing my shoulders. ‘Everything. Every word of it. Hot man, Hawaii, photographs, all of it.’

‘Amy, I am literally going to pass out. Literally.’ My voice was thick and even making words was a chore. ‘I swear I’ll tell you everything if I can have an hour?’

‘Fine. One hour, and only if I can watch your
Buffy
boxset while you pass out,’ she bargained.

‘Fine, but you have to make me a cup of tea first.’ I pushed her off my back and dragged my sorry arse into the bedroom, pulling my suitcase of stolen goods behind me. ‘Sugary. Very sugary tea.’

‘One diabetic builders’ coming right up,’ she confirmed. ‘I’m glad you’re home, Tess.’

‘Well, that makes one of us,’ I muttered, trying to smile as I collapsed on my beautiful bed. ‘Which is better than nothing.’

Jet lag was a cruel mistress. I was fast asleep before Amy could even bring me my cup of tea on Sunday evening, but I was wide awake at the crack of dawn on Monday while she snored beside me, resplendent in my ancient Snoopy T-shirt and a pair of neon-pink knee-high socks that I had to assume she’d brought with her. They certainly weren’t mine. I’d managed to regain consciousness for a short time exactly one hour after I’d fallen asleep, when Amy turned off the telly, started poking me in the arm and didn’t stop until I opened one eye and told her absolutely every last detail of the past seven days. When she was finally satisfied she’d had the whole story, she patted me on the head and turned the TV back on. Just before I went back under, I was pretty certain I heard her say she was proud of me.

Fishing the remote control out of the covers, I flicked off the TV she’d left playing, which explained why I’d had nightmares about vampires chasing me through the ocean, and rolled out of bed without disturbing my sleepover pal, a skill I’d really honed over the past week. Waking up in my own bed, wandering into the kitchen in my knickers and going through the motions of my morning tea ritual didn’t make anything feel better. It was almost as though I’d woken up from a dream but couldn’t quite shake it, only I couldn’t work out which was the dream, London or Hawaii. Or the seafaring vampires. The past seven days felt more real to me than the past twenty-eight years in England. Despite the drama and the anxiety, they had been fun, and I already missed everything about them. I’d been challenged and excited and things had felt new. And for the first time in a long time, in Hawaii, I’d been happy.

‘Post-holiday blues,’ I told the toaster. ‘It was a holiday. It was a break from reality, all of it. It’s done. Back to real life now.’

But the toaster didn’t look convinced.

‘Fuck off, toaster,’ I muttered, taking my tea back into the living room and settling down on the settee to watch the sunrise.

I thought watching
BBC Breakfast
might help me feel more present, but after two hours of suffering relentlessly smug non-news, I started to feel like it might be a good idea to get out of the house. And so, after my third cup of tea and fifth slice of toast, I showered, dressed as quietly as possible, picked up my bag, still full of my laptop, my passport and five bags of chocolate-covered macadamia nuts, and ventured outside, into London. As I locked the door, I pulled out my phone and patiently tapped and prodded at the shattered screen until it pulled up the number I was looking for.

‘Hello?’ Charlie answered right away.

‘Hi, it’s me,’ I said, concrete feeling very odd underneath my hard-soled shoes. It had been a while. ‘Can you meet me? Starbucks by the office?’

Better to get this over with, I rationalized as I flagged down the bus. And all the better to do it with coffee and cookies, before Amy got involved and while I was still half out of it with jet lag. It was a perfect plan. Get in, get out and go back to bed. Piece of piss. What could possibly go wrong?

‘Wow.’

Charlie walked into Starbucks in his black skinny jeans and the navy blue Jack Wills jumper I’d bought him for Christmas, his hair brushed back away from his big brown puppy-dog eyes and a leather man bag I didn’t recognize thrown across his wiry chest. Without thinking, I stood up to hug him and realized right away that it was a mistake. He looked like Charlie, he smelled like Charlie, he felt just like Charlie, but something was off. I let go, sitting down and grabbing my giant coffee with both hands. That was my second wow in a week. Actually, my second wow ever.

‘You look great.’ Charlie looked genuinely pleased to see me while I struggled to assemble an expression that wasn’t one of complete shock and horror. I did not feel great ? I felt sick to my stomach.

‘I look exactly the same,’ I replied, pushing my plait over my shoulder. ‘You just haven’t seen me for a week.’

‘Longest week of my life,’ he said, reaching his hand across the table towards mine. I pulled away and shook my head, eyes trained carefully on my coffee cup. ‘Right. I’m going to get a drink. Do you want anything?’

I shook my head again.

‘What could go wrong? she said. How bad could it be to see him? she said,’ I muttered under my breath. ‘What an idiot.’

I could just imagine Nick sitting at the next table, hiding behind the
Guardian
, shaking his head at me and Charlie, dying to tell me what a moron I was, what a loser he was. Just imagining his presence, hearing his voice in my head, was enough to make me squirm in my seat. It was almost forty-eight hours since I’d seen him and I still had no idea what to do about the situation.

‘One regrettable shag at a time, Tess,’ I told myself as Charlie wandered back over with a huge steaming cup and two chocolate muffins.

‘I know you said you didn’t want anything, but when have you ever turned down a muffin?’ He pushed one towards me, and, taking a cautious sip of his latte, he immediately started rubbing his eyebrow. I immediately felt queasy. ‘And it’s my bargaining chip. To keep you quiet while I make a proposal.’

‘A proposal?’ I choked on the giant chunk of muffin I had already shoved in my mouth. ‘What?’

‘A business proposal! A business proposal,’ he corrected himself quickly. ‘I don’t know if you got my voicemail, but I said I had news and I really do. Donovan & Dunning has gone under.’

‘It’s what?’ I didn’t think I’d heard him right. Gone under?

‘Closed down. Apparently Donovan has been skimming money off the top for the past couple of years, ever since things went a bit quiet, and, you know, firstly that’s illegal, and secondly, he skimmed too much. HR came in with the bank on Friday morning and sent us all home. You should have seen Raquel’s face ? she was so bloody confused. So happy she got to fire a load of people, but then at the end of it, she sort of had to fire herself. It almost made the whole thing worth it.’

‘Wait ? so the entire agency has just closed down? It’s gone?’ If I hadn’t felt sick before, I certainly did now.

‘Yeah, gone.’ Charlie nodded. ‘Aparently he tried to get the bank to extend the loans ? that’s why they laid you off. He wasn’t allowed to hire anyone, and technically you were a new hire, but when they got hold of the books, they just came in and shut everything down.’

I couldn’t process it. That place had been my entire life for so long. Of course I was still angry about being fired, but to see all my friends out on the streets, to see all my work gone to nothing … It was so sad.

‘But what about all the clients?’ Visions of dancing teaspoons, talking toilet brushes and unrealistically happy furniture shoppers flashed in front of my eyes. All for nothing. ‘Who’s looking after the clients?’

‘I am glad you asked,’ he said with a very self-satisfied smile. Almost Nick-like, really. ‘We are.’

Huh?

‘Huh?’

‘Me and you.’ He waved his hand between us. He was doing his very best to sound confident and together. It had never occurred to me in ten years that he wasn’t really either of those things. ‘And probably a couple of other people, but listen, Tess, we should do this. Wilder & Brookes. Or Brookes & Wilder. Or something entirely different. I’ll handle the accounts, you head up the creative. I’ve already called a couple of the clients ? they’re interested. If it’s me and you, they’re keen. Why wouldn’t we do this?’

Why wouldn’t we do this?

I stared at Charlie, my hands tight around my red-hot cup, burning slightly but only enough to remind me that the world outside my mind actually existed. Here was the boy I’d loved for ever offering me the chance to be the creative head of my own agency. To work with him on our own accounts, with our own clients. Professionally, it was all I’d ever wanted. Personally, it was probably the best I could have hoped for – a way to keep Charlie in my life, in my every day, for the foreseeable.

‘Charlie, that sounds amazing, but …’ I tailed off slowly, half stopping myself before I could say something stupid and half stopping myself because I had no idea what I was actually going to say. ‘But I don’t know.’

‘I know things might be weird for a little bit,’ he said, stumbling over his words. He seemed so awkward and young, and I missed Nick. ‘Because I know I messed up.’

‘You slept with Vanessa,’ I clarified. ‘That’s not messing up; that’s shagging Satan.’

‘I’m not talking about that,’ he said. ‘Well, I suppose I am, but when I say I messed up, I don’t mean with her. I mean with you.’

I said it before he could. ‘Because it shouldn’t have happened. I know.’

‘Because it shouldn’t have happened like that,’ he corrected me softly. ‘This past week without you has been horrible. All I’ve done is think about how I fucked up, how I hurt you, how I ruined everything with my best friend, and all I wanted was for you to give me a hug and tell me everything was OK. Because that’s what you do.’

I nodded for him to carry on, concentrated on breathing and let him talk.

‘But you weren’t here to make everything right this time, and I realized that I’ve been letting you make everything right for a really long time. No matter what I do or how I cock up, you always just make it better.’

‘Seems like you and Amy would have been a lot happier if I’d vanished years ago,’ I said, laughing nervously and picking the edge off my muffin. ‘Epiphanies all round.’

‘I can’t speak for Amy, and after the conversation I had with her on the phone, I don’t think she’s speaking to me anyway,’ he said, hunching his shoulders at the memory. ‘Not that I didn’t deserve it. She was right. I am a cockwomble.’

‘She told me she hadn’t spoken to you?’ The minx. ‘And also, wow. That’s her most offensive term. Congrats.’

‘Thanks.’ He laughed. ‘I thought it was colourful. Maybe there’s a future for her at our agency.’

‘Perhaps.’ I rubbed my eyes until I saw little sparks dancing in front of them. This was too much for someone as tired as I was. And I still didn’t really know what he was saying. ‘I’m so tired right now, Charlie. Can we talk about this tomorrow?’