Amanda's Wedding (27 page)

‘That's a big piece of crap! And the worst excuse I've ever heard.'

‘I'm sorry you think it's crap,' he said calmly. ‘I'm sorry that you think that the state my life is in is just a piece of crap.' He stared at his empty glass.

‘I don't,' I said. ‘I just don't see why your being miserable means you get to be nasty to me.'

‘I know. It doesn't. It's inexcusable. That's why I'm trying to explain it, to work it out in my own head. You're the last person on earth I want to hurt. But I'm doing it, nearly every day. I think … I mean, you know, you're doing really well, you've got a good job.'

‘I've got a pissy job!'

‘And you're quite together.'

‘I'm … scrambled eggs!'

He looked at me curiously. ‘Anyway, you've got your
life going on one track, and you don't need me. I think I'm just trying to get your attention. And trying to warn you off from such a fuck-up as me. Which, really, I don't want to do.' He paused. ‘I want you.'

‘You never think about me. You didn't think about me last night when I was in Camden, and miles from home, and hurt.'

‘Believe me, I did. I thought about you all night. That's when I really started to work out why our relationship is the way it is.'

‘It's the way it is because you're a big selfish pig.'

‘No, Mel. It's the way it is because I'm scared … scared of how much I feel for you.'

He shook his hair out of his eyes fiercely.

‘Honestly. And I want to believe in myself enough to be with you.'

I narrowed my eyes.

‘So, I'm not going to be frightened any more,' he continued.

‘You're not.'

He fiddled intensely with his coffee cup.

‘No. I'm going to stick to my guns for once in my life. Mel, I thought –' he looked up at me briefly, then back at the table. ‘Well … if you'll still have me … still want me … well, if you don't absolutely hate me like I hate myself at the moment, I thought we might – if you could forgive me, if you were willing to give it one last shot, we could maybe, hem, try and move in together? For a bit. See if we could take it to the next stage. After Christmas, ehm, I thought maybe we could find a room or a flat somewhere?'

I was as surprised as Wile E. Coyote is when he chases Road Runner off a mountain and realizes he's running in mid-air.

‘I don't think we've been communicating since I got back,' Alex went on. ‘We're always busy, and we're so concerned with other people's business, I think we've neglected our own.'

He looked up at me hopefully.

‘Since I moved to Fulham, I hardly get to see you.'

‘You moved out,' I pointed out. ‘Four hundred miles away.'

‘Yes, but I was just back. Trying to establish myself. Get myself straightened out. I told you, I didn't want to rush anything. But now I've thought it through. And I reckon you were right all along. We
are
meant to be together.'

I'd forgotten this was my idea to begin with.

‘We should set up shop. Give it a shot. What do you think?'

He stared at me, still calm, I thought. Then I glanced downwards, and noticed his foot jiggling like it was auditioning for
Riverdance
. Suddenly, I felt a big wave of affection towards him.

‘I don't know what to say,' I said. ‘Have I been going out with your evil twin all this time?'

He took my hand. ‘Well, in a funny way, you have.'

I moved my hand away. ‘OK, you're scaring me now.'

‘Sorry. I was up late last night thinking about a lot of this stuff.'

‘Right.' I stared at the tablecloth, ears burning. This wasn't what I was used to at all. In my world, ‘let's meet for a chat' meant being told that something or other was not working out and therefore it was all over on the job/love/friendship front. I wondered gloomily how Lili, Amanda's glamorous friend, coped with things like this. She probably got asked about fifteen times a day. She probably got them to buy her a flat first, then turned them down and kept the flat.

‘You don't have to decide anything now,' said Alex, caring sharing hippy king.

‘Don't I?'

‘No, of course not, I don't want to pressure you.' He grinned an old-fashioned Alex grin. ‘Although, obviously, you are driving me absolutely crazy, pumpkin.'

This sounded more characteristic. ‘Am I driving you mental?' I asked.

‘I am at one with despair, until I get your answer.'

‘Good. Serves you right, for a change.' I sat back and folded my arms.

He stood up and, without a word, went and got us a couple more coffees. I watched his broad back at the bar in wonder.

Suddenly, a tiny spark of excitement lit up inside me. Living together! Long lazy Sundays in bed, proper cooking, shopping for things, talking all night, taking baths together. No more trekking home on my own, no more empty house. Well, it was never empty, but it might as well have been for all the sparks of warmth there were. Dinner parties and coupley
invitations. God, it was bourgeois, and God, it was boring, but … oh, I liked the idea.

Alex was still at the bar, his fingers tapping the top with nerves. My heart softened. How much had it taken him to ask this? He must have agonized for hours. Oh, and he'd have to tell Charlie. Hooray! And I'd get to tell Amanda, who had always made it perfectly clear that she didn't think I was good enough for him. And, oh my God, I'd get to meet his parents. My imagination was filled with the image of couples in furniture adverts who are always having pillow fights for some reason. That would be us. And where would we go? Alex was sure to get a bunch of money from his parents at Christmas time, so we'd be able to lay down a deposit on something quite nice. They might even pay all the rent, if we got lucky …

I'd started choosing the curtain material by the time he came back with two more cappuccinos.

He sat down. ‘Tell me you're mentally choosing curtain material.'

‘Don't be daft. I'm trying to think this whole thing through sensibly.'

‘What's there to think? It's not like we're getting married or anything.'

‘No, I suppose not.'

‘C'mon, pumpkin, say yes. It'll be a laugh. I promise I'll be good. No Charlie, no rugby, just twenty-four-hour devotion to you.'

‘You're a lying hound,' I said.

‘I'm just a soul whose intentions are good,' he
pointed out. ‘Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood.'

I looked at him.

‘Oh my God, what am I letting myself in for this time?'

‘You said yes! She said yes!' he called out to the entire bar. Being English and not American, they didn't immediately burst out into spontaneous applause but looked at us as if we were a pair of loud-mouthed idiots.

We spent the rest of the evening in excited chatter, planning where, how, when. We compromised on somewhere nice and up and coming in North London. There was a fair chance his parents would pay the rent, which would be fabulous. I'd give Linda two months' notice and we'd start flat-hunting after Christmas. Flat-hunting! I was so excited. Then we went home and made love all night, to commemorate the beginning of something new.

‘You'd better stay this way,' I said to him fiercely, as we were lying with our arms round each other. ‘This is absolutely and utterly your last chance.'

‘I know,' he said sleepily. ‘And thank God I got it.'

Fran was furious. Absolutely fucking doing-her-nut furious. She was almost unspeakably angry, and enquired why I didn't just sell myself off to white slave traders now, if that's what I wanted to do with my life. I knew her feelings on the matter, but it still hurt, and she was really overreacting.

‘You know why,' she said, nastily, when she'd exhausted all other modes of persuasion.

‘Charlie doesn't want him there any more.'

‘How the hell would you know?'

‘Charlie and I have an … understanding,' she said.

‘Have you seen him?'

‘Maybe.'

‘But! But … you can't! It's the rule!'

‘Well, maybe the rules changed.'

‘Shit! So you've been round there? Did you see Alex the other night?'

‘For God's sake, I do not give a flying fuck about Alex.'

‘And do you know what? I don't give a flying fuck about Charlie. You could shag Stephen Hawking for all I care, and I wouldn't get all pissy about it. Why can't you just let me be happy for once?'

She sighed. ‘Look, can we not talk about this? We're only going to fall out.'

‘As opposed to what we're doing at the moment?'

‘Look, let's leave it. I'll be around to pick up the pieces, as usual, in about six months' time.'

‘You always have to have the last word, don't you, Fran?'

‘No, only when you cock up your life with a big FREAK.'

I put the phone down.

Angus had rung and left a message, but I didn't respond. I didn't want to think too much about that night. We'd perhaps been getting too close for comfort, and I was going to stick to my new policy of noninterference. The decision was made: I had one relationship to concentrate on now, and I was going to stick to it. His voice on the answerphone over the next couple of days grew increasingly confused, then he stopped calling altogether.

I didn't have time to miss him. Alex and I lunched together, spent every night together, at the cinema, out with his mates or just lazing around, looking at apartments to rent, planning what kind of thing we'd
go see. We always went to my house. Paranoically, I did ask him about Charlie, but he dismissed it out of hand as nothing – I was the one who had to get up for work in the morning, and he was on twenty-four-hour devotion watch.

And I handed in my notice to Linda. She received it with the biggest, broadest smile I had ever seen, and said that would be absolutely fine. The light positively glinted off her spectacles. I wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

So everything seemed to be – at last – settling into place. Life was, suddenly, a lot less hectic. Almost quiet. Until Amanda phoned again …

‘Darling, so kind of you to be putting this dinner on for us.'

What dinner? Oh my God, I'd completely forgotten.

‘It is this weekend, isn't it?'

Was it this weekend? Jesus, I hadn't the foggiest.

‘Ehmm …'

‘I've invited Mookie … I'm amazed you two got on so well. Although she's always been a little on the eccentric side … And of course Nash is coming down from Glasgow a week early just to make it. Let me see … do you know, Fraser hardly mentioned it! God, he can be slow, that boy, wasn't even sure we should … whoops! I'm sorry! Almost forgot – can't slag off the hubby in front of Melanie. Ha ha ha! Anyway, I've got the address somewhere. Are you sure you want Angus
there? You know what a drag he can be, especially if he's in one of his moods, which he is all the time. Why not ask that nice Charlie instead? He's great fun. Did you know his father owns a racing stable? Anyway, are you sure you can cope with all of us, darling? I mean, forgive me, but cooking's never been quite your strong point, has it? Unless, of course, it's a cheese-on-toast dinner party! Ha ha ha! Now, listen, is it formal? I assumed not, obviously, but just let me know if you want us to make the effort …'

‘Ehm, can you hang on for just one second?'

‘Of course, darling, no problem at all, lots to do, yah? We'll see you on Saturday. I'll assume it's eight for eight thirty – that's how people normally do dinner parties, darling. Ciao!'

I sat back, stupefied. Oh, Jesus. I'd forgotten all about it; events had rather overtaken things.

I couldn't see how I could have seven people round, a fair proportion of whom hated each other, one who thought making voodoo dolls of me and sticking pins in them had succeeded in driving me out of her dwelling, one whom I'd considered … gulp, well, whatever, and now wasn't returning the phone calls of, and two I didn't actually know.

Alex thought it was a great idea. Get everyone together, announce the fact that we were moving in – not that it was an announcement as such, I just hadn't seen anyone apart from him – drink and relax with our friends. He even promised to help me cook, which made me stare hard at him and wonder if the X
Files
was true and he was being brainwashed by the
government through his asthma inhaler. Of course I couldn't tell him why I didn't want Angus to come.

I even managed to ask Linda. She gave me that look she had, which always went on too long without blinking.

‘On Saturday night?'

‘Yes, just dinner, a few friends, a couple of drinks … nothing wild.'