One Step Closer to You (10 page)

Tonight is Janey’s birthday. She’s hired a room in a hotel in Brook Green. It’s crowded, the music loud, and I’m too far away from the bar, listening to one of Janey’s friends telling me how she recently developed a curious dairy allergy. She’s short and busty with long mousy-coloured straight hair and as she talks she blinks in a really off-putting way. ‘It was most peculiar,’ she says. ‘It all started after I’d eaten some Boursin, you know that soft creamy cheese? I used to eat it all the time.’

‘Uh-huh,’ I say, glancing over to Matt at the bar.

‘And you’ll never guess what?’ She blinks at me again, as if about to reveal the most exciting secret ever. ‘That night I started to itch …’ She scratches her arm.

Give me strength, I think, as she continues to reel off further disturbing symptoms that caused her serious alarm.

I look over to Matt again, still sitting at the bar, and this time he smiles at me, raising his glass. Bastard.

I catch his eye again. Matt and I have been seeing one another for four months and it’s been four months of parties, flowers and silk underwear, nightclubs, bar crawls and skiving off work to stay in bed. He’s been staying over most of the time; Hugo says only half jokingly, that he should pay rent. If we don’t have a party to go to we stay in and create our own, ordering takeaway that I hardly touch and drinking until the early hours of the morning, music playing at full volume – causing the neighbours to complain. There’s one guy in particular, ginger-haired Fred, we call him, a computer geek who runs some online company from home, who is always knocking on the door saying he’s trying to work. Hugo isn’t impressed either. ‘Sadly I’m not deaf,’ he’d said one morning, ‘only blind.’

I know we should be more considerate, I do feel guilty the morning after when Hugo says we kept him up. I say sorry, like I always do, but the trouble is that the moment I’m with Matt, I lose myself in his company and forget the rest of the world. He’s wild and outgoing, confident and charismatic. I look over to him again, talking to Janey now. I love the fact he left school when he was sixteen. He told me he didn’t need qualifications to be a property developer, just a finger on the pulse and an eye for a good deal. ‘I’m a risk-taker, Polly. Borrow from the bank and hold your nerve.’ So far he has found most of his houses by getting in his car
and driving about, targeting the right area and knocking on the door of some unassuming old granny and turning on his charm.

However, I’m aware it’s not the healthiest of relationships in that apart from Janey, I’ve more or less stopped seeing my own friends and I haven’t met any of his. If I ask Matt about his friends he shuts down. Mum keeps on asking when I’m coming home, that she and Dad have forgotten what I look like. Aunt Viv is living in Los Angeles with a film producer called Gareth. She went back to America after Granddad Arthur died. He had a heart attack when I was nineteen and died a couple of days later in hospital. His death crushed Aunt Viv more than Granny Sue. I knew from the way she talked about him that her father had been the only one really to support her after being released from prison. Aunt Viv and I email regularly; she wants to know all the gossip about Matt, always complaining when I give little away except to say I’m happy.

Matt doesn’t have a relationship with his parents. He says they were too wrapped up in themselves to notice he was even alive. They travelled like gypsies when he was a child; he never settled long enough in one place to make friends. The most I discovered about his father was he’s called Ron, Ron the Con, Matt had called him, but I could see talking about his dad hurt. Ron the Con was a fraudster and a gambler. Matt often found wads of cash under the sofa. ‘I’d get a clip round the ear if I asked any questions,’ he said. ‘Or
worse. Mum was scared of him.’ When I’d asked if his father were violent, his silence answered my question.

His parents had met in a restaurant, his mother a waitress. His father was repeatedly unfaithful; he had the idea that he was the big guy. ‘I give you the money and good sex; you cook and clean for me and turn a blind eye when I sleep with other women.’

When I asked him about his mother he said very little about her as well. ‘She wasn’t really a mum. We had no routine, no rules.’ It was the first time I’d seen him emotional and I felt so protective, cradling him in my arms like a child.

Matt hasn’t had much love in his life and I want to be the person that changes that. But if I’m honest, deep down I’m also relieved he’s not close to his family. My last boyfriend, a doctor called George, came from a much more traditional background. His family lived in a grand house in Wiltshire with a swimming pool and a tennis court. He was blond, sexy and charming and I’d tease him by saying all his patients must be in love with him. When I look back there are two occasions when I truly disgraced myself. The first was at a Christmas drinks party with George’s family, neighbours and friends. I remember champagne flowing freely and after one too many glasses George sending me up to bed like a child, telling his mother I was coming down with a bug.

The second occasion was in a Michelin-starred restaurant for George’s father’s sixtieth birthday. After the main course
I staggered to the bathroom, tripping over the pudding trolley on my way. As I plucked the cream and raspberries out of my hair George didn’t see the funny side of it at all. Enough was enough. He couldn’t go on making excuses. I’d had every fake bug and virus under the sun. ‘You know what the real problem is? It’s you, Polly. You’ve got a drinking problem,’ he said the following morning.

I denied it, I mean, how stupid is that? I don’t have a problem. He threatened that if I didn’t stop drinking he’d leave me, so I left him instead.

I am brought back to reality when Janey’s friend nudges me. ‘And in the morning, if you can believe it, my face was out to here …’ She stretches her hands out with exaggeration.

‘Out to where?’ Matt says, finally rescuing me, introducing himself. He wraps his arms around my waist and rests his chin on my shoulder.

She blushes as she touches her mouth, gazing at him doe-eyed. ‘I’ve been boring Polly about my cheese allergy.’

‘Not at all,’ I say, gulping down my drink.

‘Your cheese allergy,’ Matt repeats, and I’m trying not to laugh when he pinches my stomach. ‘Sounds fascinating, but can you excuse us for just two secs?’ He pulls me away.

‘You took your time,’ I say when we’re at a safe distance.

‘I was enjoying your acting skills.’

‘Oscar-winning, I thought,’ I say as he pulls me towards
him and we kiss. But soon Janey is upon us, saying it’s time to head downstairs for cocktails and dancing. We all head off, but I feel someone grabbing my arm, pulling me back. ‘I’m sorry you got stuck with her,’ Janey whispers. ‘She’s a family friend, just moved to London, I promised Mum I’d invite her.’

‘Don’t worry. Nothing I don’t know about cheese allergies now.’

She smiles. ‘Let’s go out soon, just the two of us. I haven’t seen you properly for ages.’

‘I’d love that. How are you doing?’

Janey’s been single for the past four months, giving herself time to get over Will. ‘I’m good. How’s it going with Matt? And you don’t need to play it down. I can cope being around loved-up couples.’

‘It’s amazing,’ I confess. ‘I’m so happy, Janey.’

For the rest of the evening Matt and I keep an eye on one another all the time. I know I’m never out of his sight. ‘I saw the way you were talking to him,’ he whispers in my ear, standing close behind me after I’ve just been speaking to some random bloke. I lean back into him. ‘And what way was that?’

‘All flirty, getting him to buy you a drink.’

‘Jealous, were you?’ I say, turned on.

‘Very.’

*

Later that night, back at the flat, Matt and I stumble into the sitting room to find Hugo and a friend watching a film,
the lights dimmed. ‘It looks cosy in here,’ I say, wondering if this could be a girlfriend. Hugo introduces us to Rosie. She’s slim with silky blonde hair.

I kick off my shoes before plopping down onto the old leather pouffe. It tips over and I can’t stop laughing as I roll across the floor.

‘Polly!’ Hugo gasps. ‘Get up! What are you doing?’

‘I’m doing breaststroke!’ I break into laughter. ‘I’m swimming! Come on, let’s do the butterfly!’

‘Ignore her,’ Matt says. ‘She’s bonkers. How did you two meet, Rosie?’

‘In our choir,’ she replies tentatively.

‘Hallelujah!’ Matt sings, making me scream with laughter and kick my legs even more, this time knocking a couple of glasses over. ‘Kumbaya, my Lord,’ I sing at the top of my voice. ‘Kumbaya!’

‘Polly, go to bed,’ Hugo says.

I sit up, cross my legs on the floor. ‘Sometimes, Hugo, you can be such an old
prude
.’

Lost for words, Rosie looks awkwardly from me to Hugo. Matthew lights up. Hugo squints when he smells the smoke, before gesturing to the television. ‘Look, we were kind of in the middle of watching this thriller.’

Matt looks confused. ‘Sorry mate, but what’s the point? You can’t see the bloody action!’

‘You bastard,’ Hugo says, staring at the screen.

‘Matt!’ I stagger to my feet and tug at his sleeve, the room
spinning as if I’m on some boat and we’ve hit choppy waters. ‘That was horrible!’

‘I was only saying …’

‘Say sorry,’ I cut him off.

Rosie touches Hugo’s knee. ‘Don’t let him get to you.’

Hugo walks Rosie to the front door, apologising profusely. ‘I hope we can do this again?’ he says.

Later on that night, when Matt is snoring, I hear the vague sound of footsteps in the hallway, but seconds later, pass out again.

*

The following morning Hugo storms into the kitchen, where I’m nursing a particularly bad hangover at the table. I make a promise to myself to stop drinking, especially on an empty stomach. ‘You left the hob on.’ Smoke is practically coming out of his nostrils.

‘I don’t remember using it,’ I say blurry-eyed.

‘You never remember anything. You and Matt were unbelievably rude last night.’

Were we? It’s one giant blank.

‘This has got to stop, Polly.’

‘I know,’ I say, hearing the frustration in Hugo’s voice. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Saying sorry isn’t enough! You can be unbelievably selfish—’

‘Look,’ I cut him off, ‘I hadn’t eaten anything all day yesterday and I’ve been on these antibiotic things—’

‘What antibiotics?’

‘I picked something up from one of the children at school.’

He doesn’t say a word, but his silence speaks volumes.

‘I didn’t drink that much last night,’ I continue. ‘It’s just that wine goes to my head if I haven’t had any food.’

‘Well, eat! And why are you drinking at all if you’re on antibiotics?’

‘Hugo, stop!’ My head is pounding. ‘It’s like living with the cops. Why don’t you tell me what the real problem is?’

‘You can date who you like, Polly, but if you want my opinion he’s a nasty piece of work and you should walk away.’

*

Over the next month I’m back at school after the Easter holidays and Matthew has identified a new project, a house in Wandsworth that is going to sealed bids. He’s confident he’ll come out on top, telling me the market is great and the banks are falling over themselves to lend him cash. He’s borrowed a scary amount of money. ‘It’s well over six figures,’ Matt had said, before cupping my face in his hands, ‘but nothing for you to worry about, sweetheart.’

To earn more money, I have signed up with a catering company to do some waitressing in the evenings, after school. Mounting bills and rent, plus partying with Matt, have burned a hole in my pocket. All I have to do is stick on a black miniskirt and white top and serve drinks at parties
and dances. It’s easy money plus I get to take home the leftover bottles at the end of the evening.

Hugo barely sleeps in the flat. He stays over with Rosie, who is now his girlfriend. Part of me is relieved. Matt and I can walk around the flat naked if we want to. We can get up at noon at the weekends, stay in bed all day. Matt jokes saying that I’m free to scream when I have an orgasm now. No longer do I have to field questions from Hugo about Matt, like, if he’s such a hotshot property man why doesn’t he own his own place by now? Hugo doesn’t get how it works. Of course Matt doesn’t want to tie up capital buying his own place. No, it’s a relief Hugo’s not around. ‘We don’t need him, Polly. It’s just you and me,’ Matt says. The other half of me, however, is anxious that we’re drifting apart. Hugo has been my anchor for many years; without him I feel adrift.

*

One Sunday morning I wake to find Matthew’s side of the bed empty. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, kicking over the bottle of vodka I’d bought late last night from the twenty-four-hour shop. I walk unsteadily into the kitchen and find him with Hugo. I’m surprised. I didn’t even hear him come home last night. I glance at the clock. It’s close to eleven.

‘What’s going on?’ I ask, sensing the frosty atmosphere.

‘Why don’t you tell her what you’ve just accused me of, Hugo?’ suggests Matt, crossing his arms.

Hugo pushes his plate to one side. ‘I’m sorry if I made a mistake, Matthew. I’ve lost my appetite.’ As he walks out of the room Matt pushes out a chair, causing Hugo to trip and lose his footing. I rush to Hugo’s side.

‘I’m OK, Polly,’ Hugo says without flinching, placing the chair back under the table and leaving the room.

I stare at Matt, demanding an explanation. ‘Why did you do that?’

‘Why don’t you ask him?’ is all he can say.

‘What’s going on?’ I ask Hugo, as he’s about to leave.

‘I had a couple of twenty-pound notes in my coat pocket.’

‘You think Matt took them?’ I place a hand over my mouth, feeling a wave of sickness overwhelm me.

‘Who else? What do we really know about him?’ he whispers.

‘What do you mean?’

‘He’s so vague about his life. He swans around doing God knows what. He doesn’t seem to have any roots.’

‘He hasn’t bought his own place yet because he’s putting everything into this new project.’