My Legendary Girlfriend (28 page)

‘Wow.’ For a nano-second I imagined hidden cameras. ‘How did you guess?’

‘It’s not that big a flat,’ replied Kate. ‘I checked everywhere except there. I couldn’t be bothered to move the wardrobes. You’ll probably find my favourite hairbrush there too. Weird things backs of wardrobes, things always drop behind them.’ She paused. ‘So what do you think? Are you disappointed?’

‘No. Not at all. Who’s the blonde girl?’ I asked, immediately regretting having opened my mouth.

‘That’s my flat mate, Paula. It’s okay, most lads fancy her. She’s very pretty.’

‘She’s all right, I suppose,’ I said casually. ‘Not really my type. To make things even, do you want to know what I look like?’

‘No, thanks,’ said Kate. ‘I think you’re nice whatever you look like. I’m trying to imagine that you look totally hideous. That way I can only be impressed.’

‘I’ll send the photos back to you, shall I?’ I said, even though I was desperate to keep them.

‘Nah. You keep them,’ said Kate. ‘It was a terrible holiday anyway. We spent two weeks getting chatted up by loads of really slimy blokes. One guy even told me that I looked like his mother. Now is that pervy or what?’

We spoke for at least an hour, in which time she told me all about the holiday to Paris which she’d actually taken this summer. In return I told her about the holiday to Tenerife I’d taken back in July with Simon and Tammy. We’d rented a one bedroom apartment on the agreement that the living room would be
my
bedroom. Instead, I ended up sharing it with Simon three nights in a row after Tammy had thrown him out simply for being a git. And when they weren’t arguing, the living room, with its paper thin walls, wasn’t nearly far enough away for me to be saved from hearing them thrashing about in the throes of passion. It was a very depressing holiday.

I was beginning to get hungry as I drew my holiday narrative to a close and on top of that a niggling worry about the cost of all these phone calls had wormed its way into my head. I’d been on the phone for hours. As it was, I already owed the bank millions, my dad £300 which I’d borrowed for the holiday and Tom £30, and he hadn’t even got a job. I rounded things up and said good-bye, telling Kate that I’d give her a ring at the end of the day to tell her how the rest of my birthday had gone.

I plucked my beautiful lilies from the kettle and placed them on the bed as I was in need of hot water to make a Spicy Tomato Pot Noodle (discovered hidden behind the Honey Nut Loops). Brown water was still on the menu so I used my initiative and filled the kettle with the sparkling mineral water I’d purchased the previous night. While waiting for the water to boil, I flicked through the photos in the main room again, separating them into two piles: ‘Kate’ and ‘Not Kate’. I took the pile of ‘Kates’ with me into the kitchen, which was now full of steam, and poured the hot water up to the marked level on the Pot Noodle and then added a touch more for good luck. Usually I hated the three minutes it took for the noodles to soften, but time flew, engrossed as I was in flicking through my ‘Kate’ pile again and again, studying each one for clues about her personality.

With half the Pot Noodle I made a sandwich, adding some of the soy sauce from the sachet and then wiping the Pot Noodle dust from my hands onto the seat of my jeans, I made my way to the bed but not before returning my flowers to their ‘vase’. Between mouthfuls, it slowly occurred to me that there was a high probability that in spite of myself, I might actually be happy. In the last hour or so I hadn’t thought a single negative thought.
Maybe this is what happiness is
, I wondered. Part of me reasoned that I should sit back and relax and enjoy this sensation, fleeting as it was bound to be. The rest of me – that part of me that tried to touch the grille on the front of the gas fire when I was three, despite the fact that I’d been burnt by it before – wanted to investigate this feeling. Would it, could it, stand the test?

I thought about school and Alec Healey in year-eleven, the most evil child I had come across so far.

I was still happy.

I thought about the worksheets that I had to do by third period on Monday morning.

And I was still happy.

I thought about Archway and all the dog crap therein.

And I was still happy.

I thought about my twenty-sixth birthday and how as of today I was officially nearer to thirty than twenty.

And I was still happy.

I thought about all the money I owed the bank and even added two years’ worth of student loans plus an extra year for my teacher training.

And I was still happy.

Then I thought about Aggi.

4.17 P.M.

Here’s the scene:
I’m sitting on the sofa bed with the phone in my hand pointed at my temple as if it’s a loaded weapon I’m about to use to blow my brains out
.

Before reaching this stage, I had spent a considerable amount of time – in between peaks and troughs of maudlin inactivity – agonising over what I was about to do. In the end, like most major decisions in my life, I made a list, hoping logic would throw up a reason to hold back.

1. I think I’m feeling something for Kate. Something that’s got an air of permanence about it. If I get involved with her now it’s going in one direction. Forever. Kate could be everything I’ve ever wanted. I don’t want to lose her now. I owe it to myself to put a full stop at the end of this thing between me and Aggi. No other kind of punctuation will do.

2. Deep down I’m not even 100 per cent sure I still love Aggi. This thing between Simon and her has only highlighted what I would’ve known if I’d been paying attention – that maybe I don’t actually love her any more. Maybe I am over her. Maybe I’ve blown her importance out of proportion. In my head she’s become this huge thing – My Legendary Girlfriend. If I don’t find out what she really means to me, how am I ever going to be sure I’m over her?

3. I can’t think of another reason. I don’t think any more reasons exist.

1. I may discover that the reality lives up to the legend and then I’ll want her back more than ever but she still won’t want me.

2. If I make a decision based on how she reacts to me, doesn’t that mean that she wins again? I don’t want to turn Kate into a runner-up prize. She deserves better than that.

3. It’s just a bad idea. And if there’s one thing that I’ve learned it’s that bad ideas should just stay bad ideas.

The last in-depth news I’d heard about Aggi’s whereabouts was from her oldest school friend, Sally. When Aggi and I had split up Sally, overcome with compassion, had informed me that even though I was no longer with Aggi, she really did want to remain friends. Seizing the opportunity to have a mole within Aggi’s ranks, I took up the offer and went for a drink with her despite the fact that she was exceptionally dull. She worked as a computer systems analyst, but never spoke about computers, as her real passion was fell walking, a subject which she could, and indeed did, talk about for hours on end. In between discussions endured on the merits of various youth hostels in the Lake District, I would pump her mercilessly for information on Aggi, which was forthcoming, up to a point – she never spoke about Aggi’s personal life. According to the last Sally update, given some time after Easter, Aggi had moved to London after securing a job as a junior press officer for Amnesty International and was living ‘somewhere in Barnes’ (Sally would be no more specific than that). There was no point in asking Sally for Aggi’s number, although I’d endured more hiking talk than I’m sure my ex-girlfriend ever had, for Sally’s loyalties lay with Aggi. Instead, I called Aggi’s mum and asked her for the number. I could hear the worry in her voice when she heard my request. ‘The Calling Round The House Drunk Episode’ was probably still as fresh in her mind as ever. Whatever her misgivings, she gave me the number, although it saddened me greatly to hear the doubt in her voice. Before ending the call, she asked me what I was up to. The fact that I was a teacher not only impressed her but seemed to make her more relaxed. The last thing she said to me was, ‘You will take care, won’t you, dear?’ She meant it too.

I dialled. The phone rang five or six times.

‘Hello?’

It was a male voice that had all the authority of someone who earned three times as much as I do. I also noted traces of solicitor who spends his weekends playing rugby.

‘Hello,’ I said in a thinly disguised, well-spoken voice. ‘I’d like to speak to Aggi if I may.’

‘She’s in the kitchen,’ he gruffed. ‘Who shall I say is calling?’

‘Tell her it’s Simon,’ I said, reasoning that it would be sheer folly to say, ‘Tell her it’s Will, her ex-boyfriend. She’s probably told you about me. No, I’m not the one with the stupid Morrissey glasses. I’m the one who is completely off his rocker.’

‘Hi, Simon,’ said Aggi warmly. ‘What a surprise!’

‘Look, Aggi, it’s not Simon, it’s me,’ I confessed.

She paused, briefly stunned, but bounced straight back totally unfazed. She was good at this.

‘Hello, Will,’ she said calmly. ‘How are you? And why are you pretending to be Simon?’

‘I’m fine.’ I nervously twiddled the phone cord around my wrist. ‘How are you? You all right?’

‘Oh, not too bad,’ she sighed. ‘Work’s really busy but that’s the way I like it. What are you doing with yourself these days?’

‘I’ve moved to London,’ I said coldly. I didn’t want her to think this was leading up to some sort of ‘Why don’t we meet up for a drink’ type of proposal. This was strictly business.

‘Oh really, where abouts?’ she asked.

I was about to drive my mental removal van to somewhere more upmarket when I told the truth. ‘I’ve got a place in Archway. It’s only temporary. Flat 3, 64 Cumbria Avenue.’ Saying it aloud made it sound less of a hovel than it was. If it hadn’t been in Archway, the toilet of the universe, she might have been impressed.

‘I know it,’ said Aggi. ‘A friend of mine used to live in Leyland Avenue, which runs parallel to your road. She was broken into thirteen times in four years.’

Defeated, I changed subjects. ‘I teach English at a comprehensive over in Wood Green.’ I lit up a cigarette. ‘I doubt if you’d know it. It’s pretty small. Five hundred kids tops.’ I inhaled and coughed violently as if I’d never had one before. ‘Sorry about that. I’m just recovering from the flu.’ I coughed again, this time a little less abrasively. ‘Where were we? Yeah. English teacher. That’s me.’

‘That’s great.’

‘Why?’ I asked abruptly.

‘Because you must be good at it. I always said you’d make a great teacher.’

I grew impatient. We were pretending to be old friends who spoke regularly on the phone. It was disturbing me greatly, because if there was one thing I was certain of, it was that I wasn’t her sodding friend.

She was prepared to let the conversation drift along until I got to the point. I took control. ‘I can’t do this right now. Was that your boyfriend?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you in love?’

She finally lost her cool. ‘What’s it to you, Will? Three years and you still know how to drive me up the wall. What do you want? You don’t really honestly want to know, do you?’

‘No,’ I replied calmly, hoping that the serenity of my denial was needling her. ‘I don’t, but you want to tell me, don’t you?’

She didn’t say anything.

‘Look,’ I said, ‘just tell me, okay?’

Playing me at my own game, she calmed down.

‘Yeah, I suppose I do,’ she said. ‘We get on well. We have a lot in common . . .’

I interrupted. ‘Like?’

‘You want a list?’ She was angry now. ‘Well, we both like being part of the human race. We both like taking things as they come. Neither of us are obsessives. We both realise there’s more to life than what’s on TV. We both like to have a laugh. We both know where we’re going. We’re prepared to give each other space. We both want to do what we can to fight injustice. Do you want me to carry on?’

The only thing I could think of to say was: ‘A match made in heaven.’ It was an empty, facile statement. It didn’t make me feel better.

Aggi’s tone changed. No longer fired by anger – instead it was powered by sympathy. Not sympathy for me, but for the man she had been in love with all that time ago. ‘Will, are you drunk? I know it’s your birthday. Why are you ringing me today of all days?’

‘Because.’

‘Because?’

‘Yeah, because.’

Her patience finally ran out. ‘I’m going to put the phone down. I’d really like it if you didn’t phone me again.’

‘No,’ I said sulkily. I flicked a long stem of ash from my cigarette onto the carpet. ‘
I’m
going to put the phone down.’

‘You’re being childish.’

‘I’ll take that as a compliment coming from you.’ I stubbed the cigarette out against the side of the bed. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t phone you again. I’ve got what I wanted.’

‘And what was that?’

‘To topple you off that pedestal I put you on,’ I said confidently, ‘and baby you’re gonna come crashing down!’

She put the phone down.

Looking back at the conversation I like to think that I won – use of the word ‘baby’ without the faintest degree of irony notwithstanding – I mean, I got quite a few blows in, I thought. But deep down, as always, it was Aggi who had won. She hadn’t given me a second thought in the last three years. I didn’t mean anything to her at all. And this was the first time I had really understood this. I’d spent nearly three years of my life with her and she’d binned them without a second thought.
I bet she can’t even remember getting off with Simon
, I thought to myself.
Why hadn’t I asked her about Simon? That would’ve scored me some points.

I felt relieved. In a way I couldn’t believe I’d carried a torch for her this far – I should have used it to set fire to her years ago. For three years it had been my constant hope that one day she would come back to me. I had even purposely chosen relationships that I knew would have a limited shelf-life because I wanted to be able to dump them at the drop of a hat – at the first sign from Aggi. I never wanted any of them. I just didn’t want to be alone. I was a user. At school being called a ‘user’ was the third worst insult, only surpassed in grievousness by ‘. . . and your mum’ and ‘No mates’. It meant you didn’t like people for who they were but what you could get from them. In a way I suppose I’d used Aggi. I got someone to listen to me moan about life, watch episodes of
Blackadder
with, someone to kiss when I needed warmth, someone to understand me and someone to make it All Right when everything was All Wrong. She got nothing. She was my Legendary Girlfriend but I wasn’t her Legendary Boyfriend. And it was only now that it was too late that I realised this.