Still Thinking of You (26 page)

‘You know, too. What are you going to do?’ asked Mia, lobbying the ball of moral responsibility firmly back over the net towards Jason.

‘Right now, I’m going to get very drunk and then…’ Scaley Jase paused and looked around the dance floor. His eyes rested on a girl of about twenty years old who was wildly circling around her friend as though her friend was a pole in a Spearmint Rhino lap-dancing bar. Clearly very drunk already, she was strutting her not particularly funky stuff in a clumsy but amusing way. She wore a short denim skirt and a white boob tube. She was amply endowed and so she repeatedly had to hike it up because her enthusiastic dance movements were in danger of leaving her exposed. She wore too much make-up, even by Jase’s standards.

‘And, then, I am going to sleep with her, if she wants to,’ said Jason.

Tuesday
41. The Morning After

Jason woke up next to the busty bottle-blonde. He gently shook her awake and asked if she wanted him to order her a room-service breakfast, before she left. They both knew that he was extending a courtesy by offering breakfast, but also making it clear that was all he was offering. The bottle-blonde was young and resilient. She didn’t want breakfast, but she did ask if she could take the toiletries from the bathroom before she headed back to the apartment that she was sharing with five other, similarly uncomplicated girls.

‘Sure, and, look, maybe we can hook up again. Maybe tonight?’ offered Jason. He didn’t intend doing so, but, on the other hand, he didn’t intend not to do so.

‘Maybe,’ shrugged the girl.

Jason had been good at the oral stuff. She
had
enjoyed sex with him. She’d noticed before that tequila slammers made her particularly horny. But in the daylight, and now she was sober, he looked very old. He had wrinkles around his eyes that last night looked distinguished, but this morning they were just sad. And he had grey pubes – it was horrifying. She wasn’t sure she’d want her friends seeing her with him again. Besides, she didn’t really believe that stuff he’d spouted last night about him owning a penthouse pad in Soho and a Porsche Boxster. This meant that he was a prick for making it up.

‘I’m going to bloody freeze getting back to my apartment,’ she moaned, as she wriggled into her minuscule skirt and boob tube. Jase gave her a Ralph Lauren jumper and the money to call a horse and sleigh. He knew he’d never see his jumper again, but he wanted to feel like a gentleman.

He gave the girl a perfunctory kiss on the cheek and, as the door closed behind her, he wandered into the bathroom and turned on the shower. He felt crap, and it wasn’t the one-night stand. He was male and incapable of understanding why anyone would feel anything other than marvellous about achieving a one-night stand. It wasn’t even his hangover.

It was Rich.

Last night, after the farce in the cinema, Rich had rushed out of the foyer and fled to the hotel. He hadn’t looked back. He didn’t know where Jayne had gone, whether she’d returned to watch the rest of the film or not, and he didn’t care. For all he cared she could have flung herself off the side of a mountain. In fact, that was the only favour she could do him.

Rich hadn’t given any thought to what the others would think if he disappeared. He just wanted to be with Tash and only Tash. He had decided that he would tell her.

He’d tell her everything.

He’d tell her that he hadn’t included Jayne in his accounts of his exploits. And he was sorry about that. That he’d shagged her on and off for an age. And that he wasn’t exactly proud of that. And he’d tell her that Jayne was trying to… what? Seduce him? And that he didn’t want that. It sounded ludicrous. Why would any man be affronted by Jayne trying to seduce them? It sounded like a lie, a cover-up. What if Tash didn’t believe him?

When he’d got back to their room Tash was already asleep. She’d fallen to sleep still grasping her novel, and she was sort of smiling. She looked so peaceful and relaxed.

Rich felt lonely.

For the first time since he had met Tash, Rich felt that they were operating in entirely different worlds. When they’d arrived at Avoriaz, they were so in sync with one another. Their lives were moving along in harmony, but now Tash slept soundly and he was full of despair. He resented her ignorance, and yet he had no one to blame for the new status quo except himself.

And, bloody Jayne.

He convinced himself that if Tash had been awake he would have followed his plan and told her all about Jayne, but he decided not to wake her to do so. If he did, he’d be lending the incident yet more import than it deserved. It would be better if he told her in the morning. Things were always better in the morning.

While Tash’s sleep had been deep, Rich’s had been fitful. He’d been plagued with nightmares of being gobbled up by a giant caterpillar. In his dream he’d called to Tash to rescue him, but she’d ignored him. It didn’t take Freud to interpret that one.

Despite his fitful sleep, when he woke up Rich did feel a little better than he had the night before. The sun was shining into their room and, as he looked out of the window on to the slopes, the view calmed and soothed. Like yesterday, the slopes were beautifully groomed and as new. He wished that everything could be wiped clean so simply.

Rich decided to dress in silence and get on to the slopes before Tash woke. It wasn’t that he was avoiding her – it was just that boarding would clear his mind. He was sure that out there, on the immaculate slopes, he’d find the correct words to explain his situation to Tash. Words that would at once absolve him and help to maintain her confidence and love. He couldn’t find those words in their hot bed.

Rich was delighted to find Scaley Jase in the hotel foyer. It was almost as though Jason could sense when his friend needed him most. Rich shook his hand and leant in to hug him in a way he was pretty confident was pretty manly. Rich always felt easier with male–male physical contact in Europe. After all, Italian and Greek men held hands and it didn’t mean they were gay. Rich didn’t go as far as holding Jason’s hand, but he patted Jase on the back as though they hadn’t seen one another for weeks.

Jase thought Rich was behaving like a man who’d just scored. He wondered if it was with Jayne or Tash.

‘I was waiting for you,’ explained Jase. ‘I’ve already planned a route.’ Jase pulled out a map and started to discuss the business of the day. ‘Let’s ride the Avoriaz to Les Croets route, to start with. Get over to number 49 lift, do the Du Tour run down to Proclou. Then, if I’m not dead, which I might be because that is a bloody hard run, pick up Seraussaix to Quemont, or du Barondown to Tetras. Whichever. Then you can come down Super Morzine, but I’m going to take the lift as it’s another tough run and, while I am fucking top on my board, I have only been on it for a few days. The estimated time is just thirty minutes, so we’ll probably take anything between fifteen minutes and four hours, depending on the level of injury sustained.’ Jason folded away the map. ‘Then we’ll go to a park.’

Inwardly, Rich sighed with relief. He was so grateful that he was a boy and could avoid any emotional issue, if he played fast and hard enough.

42. Rich and Jayne’s Story

‘Who are you looking for?’ asked Jason.

Rich had performed reasonably well on the slopes and the park all morning, having only fallen twice, but clearly he wasn’t giving the boarding his full attention. He wasn’t being daring, he wasn’t allowing himself to become absorbed. Instead he nervously and repeatedly checked over his shoulder. He was expecting that at any minute Jayne would pop out from behind an evergreen and shout, ‘Surprise!’ Clearly, he wasn’t being rational. They hadn’t told anyone where they were. Avoriaz was enormous. She’d have a difficult job in tracking them down.

Still, he couldn’t relax.

‘Let’s get a hot chocolate,’ replied Rich, avoiding the question. He checked his watch. ‘It’s nearly one o’clock, I’m starving. I think I’ll get a crêpe, too.’

Jason and Rich found an eatery on the edge of the piste and boarded to the door. They clicked out of their bindings and firmly wedged their boards in half a metre of snow. They ordered a stack of crêpes and some hot chocolate.

Jason, normally so effervescent, the reigning master of amusing small talk, had decided to remain stonily silent that morning. His silence was partly to afford opportunity to Rich, if Rich did decide he wanted to confide in him (and this was Jase’s hope), and partly because he was sulking that Rich hadn’t confided as yet. The technique worked.

‘I find myself in a bit of a difficult situation,’ said Rich as he handed Jason a mug of hot chocolate.

They made their way outside towards a wooden picnic bench and sat down to munch on their crêpes.

‘Oh?’ grunted Jason, not turning to look at his friend, who was staring out to the horizon anyway.

‘It’s, er… Jayne. You know you were on about her the other day and you, er… you were wondering whether she goes like a train… well, she does.’

Despite the seriousness of his situation, Rich couldn’t stop the flashback forcing its way into his mind. Jayne was pure fire in the sack, and years of taking pride in such lays was a tough habit to break, he grinned to himself. Jase turned to him just in time to catch the grin subside, and irritation shot through his body like electricity.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I’m telling you now.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’

Rich didn’t want to admit the truth, which was that he hadn’t needed to tell Jason before, but now he’d discovered that Jayne was a psycho and Mia had caught them snogging, and there was a need. Even in his self-obsessed and distracted state he could tell that Jason was clearly affronted by the lack of confidence. God, if he felt slighted, Rich could only imagine the hurt Tash would register.

He searched for another explanation. ‘It was awkward. What, with her being Ted’s sister.’

‘We’re all adults,’ argued Jason.

Rich sighed and decided, due to lack of choices, to be honest. He thought back to when he first slept with Jayne and unearthed the reason he’d remained shtoom about his conquest ever since. ‘We weren’t then, or, rather, only just.’

‘I’m not following.’

‘It was a long time ago. It was legal and everything,’ Rich rushed to justify. ‘Just,’ he added. ‘I was a sort of birthday present.’ Jason looked confused. Rich struggled to make himself clear, but shame tore at his vocal cords and reasoning. ‘Do you remember she came up to uni for her sixteenth birthday, which coincided with our first year Summer Ball?’

‘I remember the ball. I can’t say I remember Jayne being there.’

‘No reason you should. Everyone was smashed.’

‘So you slipped her the sausage. Hid the long yard?’ Jason was trying to pull this confession into familiar territory. The pair were used to describing their sexual exploits in ludicrously crude terms.

Rich refused to meet him on common ground; he was too uncomfortable. ‘I’ve always felt bad about it.’

‘Why? She’s fit. Nothing to be ashamed of.’

Rich sighed. She hadn’t been back then. She’d been a plain-looking schoolgirl, not the sexy siren she was now. Suddenly it was clear to him. Rich knew why he had been unable to tell Tash about Jayne – he was ashamed. Not of the way she looked – back in those days any hole was a goal. But she was a schoolgirl. Just sixteen that day, and he had been nineteen. A man. Something in the back of his mind, then and ever since, told him that Jayne had not been quite ready. Not as robust and sophisticated as she liked to pretend. He’d pretended to believe her faux sophistication because it had suited him.

He rubbed his hands together to try to create some heat. ‘Look, I was drunk. Everyone was. She was.’ It had been his justification then, and he held on to it now.

‘She did want it, didn’t she?’ asked Jason carefully.

‘God, yes, begging for it. Of course,’ Rich was offended. ‘What do you take me for?’

‘Well, then, no big deal,’ said Jase, relieved. ‘Everyone has to have a first time, mate. Sixteen is legal, as you said. You did her a favour. At least you knew what you were doing. Better than a fumble with some spotty virgin.’

It was true that by nineteen years old Rich wasn’t exactly the splendid sexual specialist that he was now, but he had had several notches on his bedpost which made him the envy of his peers.

‘Is that why you didn’t want her here? Because of some ancient history?’

Rich played with a promotional leaflet that was propped between the cinnamon shaker and the sugar bowl; it advertised heli-boarding and night-time skiing. Rich fancied both of these activities, so the leaflet offered a legitimate distraction. He steadfastly refused to meet Jason’s eye. But they knew each other too well.

‘That wasn’t the only time, was it?’ demanded Jason.

‘No.’

‘You did her again.’ Rich nodded, reluctantly. ‘When?’

‘She moved to London when she was twenty-one. She looked me up. She used the excuse that she was going into management consultancy, like me. And so we met up for a couple of drinks so that I could give her some career pointers.’

‘And that wasn’t the only point you gave her,’ sniggered Jason. He always found it mildly erotic to think about his friends’ conquests; he never analysed this.

‘We ended up in bed and then, er, well, have ended up there, on and off, ever since. It’s just a casual thing.’

‘
A casual thing?
A casual thing that’s lasted a decade?’ Jason stamped the snow from his boots. Rich couldn’t work out if the gesture was one of pride in his mate’s antics or fury. It was neither. Jason was stamping his feet because he was cold.

‘Yeah, well, almost a decade,’ admitted Rich.

‘Shit.’

‘Exactly.’

‘Are you still…?’

‘No, no.’ Rich was quick to reassure. ‘I called it off when I met Tash. Once I met her I didn’t want any one else.’

Jason wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily. ‘So what was last night? One for old time’s sake?’

‘Oh. Mia told you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, I called it off, but Jayne doesn’t seem to accept that it’s over.’

‘Christ. She’s sore?’

‘Very. It’s not as though it was a relationship or anything. It was just sex. Strictly after hours.’

Jason took a deep breath, and all this information, in. He was glad that Mia had misread the situation and that Rich wasn’t in the midst of a passionate affair with Jayne just days before he married Tash.

Jase liked Tash.

But then, Jase liked
liked
Jayne.

He felt slightly sickened. How could Rich treat Jayne so casually, so disrespectfully? Jayne was lovely, intelligent and funny. She was also that scary thing that all men should avoid in casual shags, she was deep. Deep was one step away from mad. Mad was miles away from discreet.

And then there was Jason’s main concern. ‘Mate, how could you?’

‘What?’

‘Shag someone for over a decade and not even mention it to me. I thought we told each other everything.’

‘Sorry. Yeah. Like I said, it was complicated. A tricky situation.’

The truth was wild horses wouldn’t have dragged a confession out of Rich if Jayne hadn’t turned up at his wedding party. His feelings for her were an ugly mix of lust and shame and guilt and fear. Not something he was prepared to share over a bottle of designer beer and a game of FIFA.

‘You are so fucking lucky, mate,’ said Jason.

Rich felt about as lucky as the guy who had won a couple of tickets to see the World Cup final, but didn’t have a passport.

‘You’ve lost me,’ he sighed.

‘Well, Tash has to be the coolest babe on the planet to be dealing with all this, to have allowed Jayne here in the first place. You’ve really picked someone special there, mate. You lucky bastard.’

Jase didn’t think Rich deserved to be this lucky. He didn’t deserve ten years of secret, no-strings-attached shagging with sexy Jayne, let alone deserve to have found such an understanding
and
foxy life partner in Tash. Rich was a bastard with women. But, then again, Jason was a bastard with women, too, and also one of the great undeserving. Rich’s story gave him hope.

‘She doesn’t know,’ sighed Rich.

Jason was aghast. ‘But I thought you two didn’t keep secrets from one another. The pair of you are always going on about how honesty makes your relationship. I thought you told each other everything.’ Maybe not the snogging last night, Jason mentally conceded, but the history, surely.

‘Everything but this. Mate, I didn’t even tell you this, how could I tell Tash?’

While Jason found this reassuringly flattering, he also saw his friend’s dilemma. How could Rich treat Tash so dishonestly, so disrespectfully? Tash was lovely, intelligent and funny.

‘Do you think Mia will say anything to Tash?’ asked Rich.

‘I doubt it. They’re hardly bosom buddies.’

‘Don’t you think so? I hoped they’d get on.’

‘Well, they don’t,’ Jase stated. He was amazed that Rich could have missed this. Clearly he was self-delusional. ‘And you want to thank your lucky stars that Mia doesn’t consider herself Tash’s friend and doesn’t think she owes her any girlie loyalty or honesty.’

‘You don’t think she’d say anything out of spite, though, do you?’ Rich panicked.

‘No. Mia’s too rational for that.’

The guys fell silent. They were both thinking that the same reassurance could not be given about Jayne. Jason wanted to bolster his friend, but wasn’t sure if he could.

‘I thought she was OK with the arrangement and cool when I called it off. But, looking back, I wonder if it is coincidence that out of all the management consultancies in London she just so happened to end up working in mine. And just before we came away I got a memo introducing a new member of staff into my division. Guess who?’

‘Jayne.’

‘Correct. Give the man a cuddly toy. Then she wangles an invite to my bloody wedding. I bought all that crap about her needing to be here as she was getting over an ex because –’

‘You wanted to.’

‘Exactly. And then every time I turn round, on the slopes, in the hotel, she’s there.’

‘Right,’ nodded Jason.

‘Dropping hints, being indiscreet. She’s showing signs of being a…’ Rich didn’t want to finish the sentence.

‘Bunny boiler,’ confirmed Jason.

‘Exactly. And finally, last night, she tells me she loves me.’

‘Oh, mate.’

‘Exactly.’ Rich realized that he was repeating the decisive and certain word precisely because he did not feel either decisive or certain of anything. ‘What should I do?’

Tension and panic had drained the blood from Rich’s face so that if it wasn’t for his ultra-hip black Salomon jacket and trousers he would be entirely camouflaged against the snow. His tan sat uncomfortably on his face, red blotches against a pale canvas, reminding Jason of a kid’s colouring book where splashes of colour are clumsily applied.

‘Did you ever give her anything?’

Rich looked at Jason, unable to hide his disgust. ‘You mean like herpes?’

‘No. Mate, I know you well enough to know that you may not be too fussy about where you tuck it, but you are always careful to dress for the occasion. I meant like tokens. Letters, cards, anything at all that would incriminate you?’

‘No. No, nothing at all. I keep telling you it wasn’t like that.’

‘Then you’re OK,’ smiled Jason, pleased to be on sure ground again, pleased to be able to offer his mate a solution. ‘If she says anything to Tash, it’s her word against yours. Bluff it out. Say she’s lying. Say she’s demented.’

‘I couldn’t do that.’

‘Why not?’

‘Well, she isn’t lying. And, more importantly, I don’t want to lie to Tash.’

Jason didn’t want to be unnecessarily cruel, but he believed the situation demanded a certain measure of realism. ‘You mean you don’t want to lie to her again.’