Letters From My Sister (17 page)

I don’t budge an inch. I can’t let him go. I like him too much. I’d wanted to call him but lost my nerve without Bells as an excuse. I need to pluck up the courage now. What have I got to lose any more? ‘Can I come in? Let’s crack open this bottle of wine.’ I stride on ahead, up the steps.

He grabs an arm to steady me. ‘Don’t you think you’ve had enough?’ he asks, amusement in his tone.

I frown at him disapprovingly.

He gives in.

Mark’s flat is small. His bike leans against the corridor wall. We go into the sitting-room and I collapse into a soft sofa.

‘I’m going to put the kettle on,’ he tells me as he walks out of the room. ‘Do you want a coffee?’

‘What do you do?’ I start talking to myself. ‘What do you dooooo?’ I can hear Mark laughing in the kitchen. Five minutes later he comes back with two mugs. I peer into my coffee. ‘It’s Saturday night, Mark. I’ve been terrorized all evening by Jonnie’s parents. Believe me, I need a proper drink.’ I kick a wine glass on the floor at my feet. ‘Oops! What are all these wine glasses doing?’

‘Doing?’ Mark grins. ‘They’re having a party.’ He takes his jacket off.

There’s an open bottle of white wine on the coffee table in front of me. I pour some into the nearest glass, spilling a little over the edge. Mark picks up the other glass that is precariously close to being kicked over. I can smell his aftershave. He’s wearing a soft white shirt. All I want is to nuzzle into his shoulder and have a proper man hug. ‘This place is a bit of a tip, isn’t it? Did you have a party tonight?’

‘I had a few friends over.’

‘You had a few friends over,’ I repeat, followed by a large gulp of wine. ‘You know, Mark, it really is dandy to see you.’

‘Dandy?’ He laughs. ‘I like that word.’

‘You English teacher, you. D’you think it’s fate, Mark, the way we bump into one another? There I am, at the off-licence, and – poof! We bump into one another, just like that. Or you living so close to Emma and me moving here, right next door to you. It’s meant to be. Has to be.’ Mark raises one eyebrow.

‘I’ve always wanted to do that!’ I peer closely at him, my mouth hanging open. ‘How’d you do that? Can you roll your Rs …’ I flop back against the sofa like a rag-doll.

He rolls his Rs and then abruptly stops. ‘This is a pretty strange evening.’

‘D’you know, I think it might be destiny, Mark. D’you believe in destiny?’ He looks unsure. I lift myself up off the sofa to walk over to his music machine and look through his CDs. ‘
My Fair Lady
? Oh my God, you’re gay. Haah!’ I sigh deeply. ‘It makes sense.’

Mark looks bewildered now. ‘I’m not gay, it’s a school CD. We’re putting on a production this year.’

‘What’s all this paper?’

Mark stands up abruptly and takes it from me, shuffling it back into order. ‘It’s my book.’

‘Oh. Shall we dance?’ I twist around and Mark catches me, releases the glass of wine from my hand and holds me still. He could let go of me now, I think. He’s going to kiss me. ‘Look, I think you need your bed,’ he says finally. ‘Do you want me to take you home?’

‘Do you want me to go home?’ I ask coyly, trying to be seductive. ‘You know, you’re very attractive, Mark. You’re such a nice and lovely man. There’s something about you.’ Is he laughing at me? ‘What! I mean it, Mark. Don’t look so worried, come here.’ I close my eyes for a second, in anticipation of a kiss.

‘Katie.’ I feel a hand shaking my arm. ‘Oh, shit, Katie. Wake up, Katie, please. Wake up.’

The words are echoing around me but I ignore them as I fall into a deep blackness.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

I wake up the following morning on a sofa with a rug over me. I attempt to move. My head! I hold it heavily in my hands. I groan. My mouth feels like a sewer. I summon all my strength to sit up, pulling the rug with me. Where am I? There’s a glass of wine on the table in front of me and the smell of it makes me feel sick. I’m still wearing my clothes from last night. My neck creaks when it moves. It’s too painful sitting upright. This is a bad dream. My head hits the pillow again. The last thing I remember vaguely was drinking stewed coffee. I shut my eyes and go back to sleep.

*

I am woken up abruptly by cramp in my arm. Quickly, I fling off the hairy tartan rug and stand up, shaking my arm about. The wine glasses have gone. I look around me once more, trying to piece together the events of last night. Papers and books overflow from a desk and a tall silver lamp with long spidery legs stands to one side of a computer. There’s a white-painted shelf holding even more books and a small television in the corner of the room. Sam would have a breakdown if his place looked like this. I pick up a glass of water from the floor and drink it steadily. Next to the glass is a packet of white pills. There’s a scrap of paper on the floor with a torn-off ring-binder edge.

‘Gone for a run, back soon, Mark. PS. These are for the sore head.’

Mark. I saw Mark last night! Of course I did. Where did I think I was? I start pacing the floor, knocking over a white plastic bowl. This is embarrassing. Did he think I was so drunk I was going to be sick in this during the night? Obviously he did.

He’ll be back soon. How come I stayed here? I remember meeting him, but staying over? Why can’t I remember that? I sit and think hard about what we talked about last night. Mark must have gone for a long run. I bet you he’s hoping I’ll be gone by the time he gets back. He’s probably having brunch with his friends, telling them that I crashed out on his sofa last night. I rub my eyes. Try to remember, Katie. My head feels cobwebby. What I could do is run back to Emma’s and Jonnie’s, have a shower, get myself looking decent and return to say thank you for … what? I’ll figure that out later. That’s a good plan, Katie. Desperately I try to kick myself into action, but nothing is happening. I hear the distant bang of a door followed by a key turning nearby. My heart jumps again at the thought of seeing him. I sit back down and attempt to look relaxed.

Mark comes into the room clutching a bottle of water and a newspaper. His face looks fresh and squeaky clean. ‘Good morning.’ He smiles as if he has won a premium bond. Why does he look so happy? ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Fine!’ I lie. I wait for any clue as to why I found myself on his sofa.

‘Really? You look terrible.’

I laugh and admit, ‘OK. I feel dreadful. I feel worse than I look and that is saying something.’

‘I bought us some breakfast. Well, lunch really. I’ve already had a bit of cereal. Stay for brunch, shall we say? I’m not going to take no for an answer so come into the kitchen when you’re ready.’

I pat my greasy hair self-consciously. Look the part, feel the part … Oh, shut up, Sam.

‘Have a shower, if you like.’

My God, he is offering me a shower. Next he will be offering me his toothbrush. How has this happened? I rub my head. I remember Will and Hermione clearly from last night. Then I bumped into Mark and we drank some more wine and coffee. I am sure nothing else happened. Convinced, in fact. He wouldn’t have left me on the sofa, surely? I would have woken in his bed. ‘Mark,’ I call, making my way to the kitchen.

I find him at the stove frying bacon. I love the smell of bacon and toast. I sit down, suddenly starving. ‘Mark, what were we talking about last night?’ I ask tentatively.

‘Nothing much.’ He’s wearing those black-rimmed glasses that remind me of my father’s.

‘I wasn’t talking crud?’

‘Crud? I love your turn of phrase. I particularly like “dandy”.’

‘Dandy? What was I saying last night?’

‘I can’t really remember,’ he says, the corners of his mouth turning slightly upwards as he pretends to be absorbed in cooking.

‘Come on,’ I gently encourage. ‘You can remember, I can tell.’

‘All right then. You said it was dandy seeing me, and then you conked out.’

I put a hand over my mouth. ‘I’m sorry. How lame am I?’ I lean my elbows against the table. ‘I feel so ill,’ I groan. ‘Was I really so drunk I couldn’t make it five steps back home?’

‘Yes, pig drunk.’

‘Pig drunk?’

‘I tried to lift you …’

‘Oh God, I haven’t been to the gym in a while …’

‘Katie, I didn’t mean that. It’s just dead weight is heavy.’

I think I would rather be called overweight than a dead weight.

‘Look at you, you’re stick-thin.’

‘I eat like a horse but I run on my nerves. I’ve got my mum’s genes.’ Mum. I must ring today and see how she is. ‘She’s thin too but we both have round curvy bottoms,’ I add proudly.

Mark raises an eyebrow as he scoops the bacon from the pan and puts it on the kitchen roll. The grease settles on to the white paper with hens lining the edge. He turns to me with the spatula in his hand. His pale blue shirt collar is sticking up rigidly and he’s wearing that navy jumper with holes in the elbow again.

As we eat our bacon sandwiches and drink coffee and orange juice, Mark asks me about Sam and why I’m not living with him any more. ‘Katie, you’ve got a bit of orange stuck on your tooth,’ he points out. I censor the story. I don’t tell him exactly why; I don’t mention what Sam said in the restaurant; all I say is that the relationship had run its course. Mark nods thoughtfully. He knows I’m cutting the story down to make it simple. ‘I’m sorry. Is there a chance you can get back together?’

I shake my head. ‘There is nothing left to say. I pick rodents.’ I smile, slowly remembering the cab drive home.

‘What?’ Mark has that baffled look again.

‘Never mind. What are you doing today?’

‘I’ve got to finish my book. Deadline is tomorrow.’ Mark looks at his watch. ‘In fact, I must go soon.’

I feel a sharp twinge of disappointment. I have enjoyed eating breakfast with him. It seems like an extension of my night out and I don’t want to go yet. ‘Your book? Don’t you write from home?’

‘Sometimes. I’ve rented out this tiny office space because I find it easier writing away from here.’

‘That sounds like a good idea. And then it’s going to be sent to publishers, is it?’
Do you believe in destiny?
I gulp hard, feeling a flush of red creep up my neck. Did I really say that?

‘Yeah, it’s frightening letting it go out into the lions’ den.’

‘I can imagine. I like reading. My headmistress inspired me to love it. By the time I was fifteen I had read all of Tolstoy, Emily Brontë and Jane Austen. I wish I could write. What’s the book about?’
Do you think it’s fate, Mark, the way we bump into each other?
I sink further into my seat.

The doorbell rings.

Mark picks up the entryphone. ‘What a surprise,’ he exclaims. ‘I thought you weren’t coming down until tonight?’

Oh my God, you’re gay
. I don’t know when to stop, do I? Oh, well, what does it
really
matter? I try to convince myself. He’s probably flattered by the attention.

‘Are you going to let me in?’ I hear from outside the flat.

‘Sorry.’ He presses the entry button.

‘Who is it?’ I ask casually.

‘My girlfriend. She lives in Edinburgh.’

‘Oh, right, that’s nice!’ A deep thud of disappointment hits the bottom of my stomach. ‘Right, I should go,’ I say, trying to sound like I have a busy day ahead.

A tall girl with light brown hair held loosely in a ponytail walks into the kitchen. She’s wearing jeans and a tailored jacket. She steps forward to give Mark a kiss. ‘Hello, you,’ she says and they briefly hug. ‘Surprise! I decided to catch an earlier train. My work can wait.’

Mark coughs. ‘Jess, I’d like you to meet Katie.’

‘Oh, hello.’ She swings round in surprise. She smiles uncertainly at me and I can tell she’s trying to work out why I’m in Mark’s kitchen, dressed in a black evening top, with heavy smudged black-ringed eyes.

‘Right, I’d better be off,’ I say.

‘Mark, sorry, but who … I mean, what’s going on?’

‘Nothing is going on. I’ve told you about Katie,’ he assures her. Then he looks at me. ‘Sorry, but I told Jess about your mother, I hope you don’t mind?’

‘Oh, you’re Katie,’ she exclaims with some relief. Then bites her lip and looks at me closely again. ‘How is your mother?’ she asks slowly, her eyes narrowed. She is obviously still trying to work out why I am in Mark’s kitchen.

‘She’s much better, thanks.’ But Jess isn’t listening. I could have said any old thing.

‘What exactly is going on?’ She stares at Mark hard. ‘Is there something you’re not telling me?’

‘I should go,’ I say.

‘Did you stay the night?’ she asks me coolly.

‘God, no!’ I blurt out.

‘Well, could you explain to me what you’re doing here?’ Her voice is calm but there is an uncomfortable edge to it.

‘Well, I did stay here, but obviously not in the way you think I did.’

‘Jess, this is ridiculous,’ Mark says. ‘Katie’s a friend.’

‘Ridiculous? Is it?’ she queries, still remaining remarkably cool and not taking her eyes away from mine. I want to go home.

Mark makes Jess sit down at the table next to me, and pulls up a chair for himself. ‘Katie and I bumped into one another last night at the off-licence. I walked her home, I wanted to find out how her mother was. She came in for a drink – and you were so tired, weren’t you?’ He gestures towards me.

‘Really tired,’ I say.

‘Then she fell straight to sleep on the sofa.’

‘Straight to sleep,’ I repeat.

‘That’s it, I promise,’ Mark concludes.

‘I’m sorry, Jess, I can see how this looks, but Mark was being a good friend, that’s all.’

‘So nothing happened,’ she says, more of a statement now than a question.

‘Nothing,’ Mark and I say together.

‘Look, Katie slept next door.’ He leads her into the sitting room.

‘Mark, if you’re lying to me, I couldn’t bear it,’ I can hear Jess saying in a low voice, as she knows I’m only a room away. ‘I’d rather you told me now.’

‘You know I wouldn’t lie to you,’ he reassures her. This is the perfect time to make my escape. It’s clear they need to talk about this and I don’t think I’m helping by hanging around.

I edge my chair back, trying to be as quiet as I can. I open the front door. ‘I know it might look suspicious but I swear nothing happened,’ Mark is saying.

Gently I shut the door behind me.

*

I walk home, slowly.

I see the empty stretch of road ahead of me. Thank God I’m outside the flat; I’m too hungover to deal with this.

The shock of Jess’s arrival is now replaced with a nagging sense of disappointment that Mark has a girlfriend.
You know, you’re very attractive, Mark …
there’s something about you …

I have made a complete fool of myself! Oh well, I think, kicking a stone across the pavement. What did I think would happen? Break up with Sam and then fall predictably into the arms of Mark, who is, of course, the complete opposite to Sam, single
and
the answer to my dreams? For God’s sake, Katie, this isn’t a Hollywood movie.

‘Hey, why did you go without saying goodbye?’ I hear. I turn and see Mark racing towards me on his bike, his typescript balanced between the handlebars. He comes to an abrupt halt and the script flies on to the road and scatters into a hundred sheets.

‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have stayed last night.’ I bend down to try and retrieve the paper. I reach out for one of the sheets and the wind blows it in the opposite direction so I end up clutching air.

‘Shit … bugger … shit!’ Mark curses on his hands and knees. ‘I knew I should have put it in a bag.’ He is desperately grabbing sheets of paper. One floats off into the middle of the road.

We laugh helplessly. I don’t feel it’s the right time to ask what the book is about as I pick up the pieces of paper and dust them off.

‘You weren’t going to say goodbye?’ he mutters, scooping the remaining pages off the road.

‘I need to get home, out of these smoky clothes.’ I smile at him. ‘Is Jess OK?’

‘She’s fine.’

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. Shouldn’t you be with her now?’

‘I have to get this to someone, it won’t take long,’ he says.

‘I don’t blame her for being suspicious, I would be.’

‘We know nothing happened so we have nothing to feel guilty about.’

I nod.

He stands up and I stand up with him. He grabs his bike and follows me. ‘Well, this is me.’ I stand outside a red door with bits of paint flaking off it. ‘I’ll see you soon.’

Mark doesn’t say anything. ‘’Bye then.’ I turn the key in the door, aware that he still hasn’t gone.

‘Katie?’

‘Yes?’

‘I should have told you – about Jess, I mean.’

‘Don’t worry, it doesn’t matter,’ I say, though every part of my voice says it does.

‘I’d like to see you again. There’s no harm in us meeting for a …’

‘Coffee?’

‘And a sticky bun?’

I smile. ‘You know where I am.’

‘Great. Friends?’

Ouch! That’s painful. Did he think he had to say it so I wouldn’t make a pass at him again? ‘Friends,’ I say, wrapping my shivering arms around myself for warmth. I watch him as he pushes off on his bike, the script back in position in-between the handlebars. He uses one hand to wave at me from behind. It looks dangerous to me. ‘Good luck with the book!’ I call out. I want to shout, ‘Be careful,’ but don’t want to sound like his mother.