Still Thinking of You (30 page)

47. Alone at Last

‘Where have Ted and Kate gone?’ Tash asked Rich. They’d done with dancing for now and retired to a small table in the corner of the bar.

‘I don’t know. I think they are having some sort of domestic,’ replied Rich with a shrug.

He had enough to worry about without baby-sitting Ted and Kate; he always thought of them as pretty self-reliant. Where was Jayne, for instance? Not far away, he’d bet. He turned to look over his shoulder; Jayne was standing only yards away. She beamed and waved. Rich tried to ignore her. He’d played this all wrong. Well, obviously he had. But Rich meant that he’d played the salvage operation all wrong. He should have asked Jase to keep tabs on Jayne. If Jase had turned on his charm and really worked her, Jayne might have forgotten about Rich. Rich sighed. He knew it was a pipe dream. Jayne was a determined woman, a determined scorned woman, the worst type of determined woman. She wasn’t going to just change her mind. Besides, Jase wouldn’t have anything to do with her now he was aware just how crazy she was. If only Rich had had half the sense.

‘I thought you said that Ted and Kate never had domestics,’ challenged Tash.

Rich had said this. It had been one of the many virtues he had extolled about Kate and Ted’s family life. Besides describing Kate as the ‘perfect mum’, Rich had described the children as the most affable, polite and intelligent he had ever met. Obviously Rich assumed one led to the other, and Tash also hoped that affable, polite, intelligent children were guaranteed if you were a perfect mum. Because that would be fair, wouldn’t it?

But what was a perfect mum?

‘They have both been acting strangely all night,’ she commented, ‘but, then again, everyone has.’ Tash sighed, and took a slurp of beer.

‘What do you mean by that?’ Guilt made Rich’s tone harsher than he planned it to be.

‘Jayne has been a bit odd. I spent this morning with her, and –’

‘What did you do that for?’ he snapped.

‘Lack of alternatives,’ said Tash dryly and pointedly. ‘She was, I don’t know… sulky. I assume that is something to do with Jason, who’s also been quieter than normal.’

Plus Mia had been lovely. She’d been inclusive, funny and chatty, which was all very odd. Tash resisted saying as much.

‘And I think that Ted and Kate are rowing, and whatever they are rowing about Lloyd is privy to, or perhaps even caused,’ speculated Tash. ‘He can’t look Kate in the eye. I had a chat with him. Earlier he said things were a bit tense between Ted and Kate.’

‘I hadn’t noticed,’ confessed Rich. In truth, he was too absorbed with secreting his own drama to have the time, energy or inclination to unearth anyone else’s.

‘I hope it’s nothing serious.’

Rich stared at Tash. Her brow was furrowed with concern. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail. It had been neat and tight at the beginning of the evening and she’d looked sophisticated and sexy. Now the clip had worked loose; bits of hair had escaped. Strands framed her face so that now she looked scruffy and sexy. Rich reached up to tuck a strand behind her ear. She blushed, and he smiled.

‘I bet I look terrible, all sweaty and smudged eye make-up, right?’ she asked.

‘You’re lovely,’ he replied.

And she was.

She was truly lovely to look at, but more than that she was a really lovely person. She was concerned that Kate and Ted were rowing; she’d watched them interacting with Lloyd to try to work out what was going on. She cared about people. She wanted to understand them and help them, and that was lovely.

Shit.

What if she turned the focus of her attention and intuitiveness towards the tension between him, Jayne and Jase? That wouldn’t be lovely. That would be a fucking blood bath. He pulled his hand away from her hair as though he were scorched.

‘I don’t think it’s healthy to obsess and speculate about other people like that. You could be miles off the mark. It’s dangerous.’

‘Dangerous?’ asked Tash, somewhat taken aback by the sudden change in Rich’s tone. She’d been enjoying the sensation of him stroking her face, fiddling with her hair. It had felt calming and intimate. ‘What’s dangerous about saying I think they are rowing?’

‘What did you mean when you said Lloyd was involved? Why are you connecting him to Kate and Ted? What are you suggesting?’

‘Nothing. I’m not suggesting anything.’ Tash met Rich’s irritated accusation with fiery indignation.

‘Next, you’ll be saying that just because Jayne and Jase are acting a bit weird that there is something going on there, and that it’s my fault.’

Fear and booze emboldened Rich and allowed him to drive closely to the truth. He was almost daring Tash to say yes that was exactly what she thought. Then he could confess. And that would be a relief. That was what he wanted. Oh God, no, no. It was the last thing he wanted.

‘Don’t be silly.’ Tash grinned, and stretched across the table to take hold of Rich’s hand. ‘There
is
something going on between Jase and Jayne, or at least there was. I’m not so sure now. But why would that be your fault?’

Tell her. Tell her, a voice in his head was almost hoarse with screaming. Still he ignored it.

‘Jayne admitted to me that she and Jason fooled around a bit on Sunday night, but this morning Lloyd saw a young blonde number stagger from Jason’s room, so the thing with Jayne is probably all over before it even began. Poor Jayne, she really doesn’t need to be messed around at the moment. It’s making her very cynical. God, Jason is a one, isn’t he? Can’t keep it in his trousers, can he?’

‘I don’t like you gossiping with Lloyd,’ snapped Rich. He drained his beer and signalled to the waiter to bring them two more.

‘You’re joking, right?’

‘No, I’m not. People can get the wrong end of the stick about situations, and that leads to trouble.’

‘Maybe, but in this case the girl left Jason’s room sticky and sordid at seven in the morning. I don’t think there are two ways of interpreting that situation. Why are you being so huffy? I thought you’d be pleased that I’m building relationships with your friends. Swapping confidences.’

‘Swapping gossip, more like.’

Rich had forgotten that only a matter of a few days before he had fantasized that Tash would swap gossip with Mia. Now he wanted everyone to be quiet. To stay still and to say nothing. Until he was married, at least.

The bar was hot and heaving. The dance music blared so loudly that Tash could feel the base beat throb through her body and head, or maybe that was the alcohol. Alcohol always seemed like a good idea at the time and rarely was. Tash massaged her temples. What gossip? What was Rich so touchy about? She didn’t want to allow Jayne’s nonsense to drift into her head and affect her clear thinking, but… well, Jayne
had
known the gang longer than Tash had. Maybe there was something more to the Mia situation than Rich was letting on. Why else would he be so defensive about her getting close to his friends? Did they know something she didn’t? Was there something between him and Mia? Tash sighed and rubbed her eyes. This train of thought was madness. She felt strung out.

Rich continued to lecture her, ‘I think it would be best if you didn’t get too involved in people’s affairs – I mean, business. From now on you should restrict your conversations to –’

‘The weather? For fuck’s sake, Richard, what are you thinking about?’ Tash’s finely stretched patience suddenly snapped. Rich wasn’t thinking, he was panicking, but he couldn’t explain why. ‘Get off your high horse, Richard. I’m doing my best here. I’m trying very hard to build new relationships with your friends, and I’m doing that for you.’

‘We’re not talking about diplomatic efforts on the scale of negotiating the Good Friday agreement here, are we?’ asked Rich sarcastically. ‘Since when has making friends been such a hardship?’

Immediately he regretted his alcohol-induced anger and question. For a start he wasn’t really angry with Tash; he was furious with Jayne. And besides, Tash would insist on answering his question
honestly
and actually he wasn’t sure he wanted that.

True to form, she replied, ‘I don’t know, up until very recently, there was hardly a soul on the planet that I couldn’t get on with. The security guard at my gym is a little overofficious, but generally, Richard, I expect to get on with other people.’

‘So you don’t like my friends. It’s not a big deal. I can see them on my own.’

‘I didn’t say I don’t like them,’ cried Tash defensively. ‘I do like them. I especially like Jayne. It’s you who has the problem with Jayne. Jason is amusing, and Lloyd is a bit mixed up, but I think we’re getting to know each other and he’s an interesting guy. I haven’t got a great deal in common with Ted and Kate, but I can see that they are decent people.’

She took another slug of her beer, then scowled at the bottle. She should keep quiet. Perhaps the honesty policy should not come into play when they were both drunk and tired. As her mind decided to hold back, her mouth contradicted her and she blurted, ‘OK, OK, I don’t like Mia.’

‘Why don’t you like Mia?’ Rich was stunned.

He must know. He must have heard the snide jibes and outright put-downs. Why couldn’t Rich see any wrong in Mia? He was blind.

Love was blind.

No, it couldn’t be that, could it? Jayne could not be right, there was nothing going on between Rich and Mia. But there once had been, hadn’t there? That was a fact because Rich had told her as much. What was it that Jayne had said earlier? Something about Rich smelling Mia, touching Mia, nibbling her nipples, kissing her thighs. No, no, that was in the past. Not now.

‘I think there are a number of unresolved issues that Mia is harbouring.’

‘Unresolved issues? What are you talking about?’

‘Is it possible that she has the hots for you?’ Tash only just resisted asking him to answer honestly. It was unnecessary – they only ever answered one another honestly, right?

‘That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.’

Tash was relieved that Rich’s outrage was genuine. She exhaled deeply, somewhat calmed. ‘It was just that earlier on Jayne and I were talking about stuff.’

‘What stuff?’

‘Monogamy, our deal to be completely honest with one another, ex-shags, that sort of thing –’

‘What? What the fuck were you talking about that sort of stuff with Jayne for?’ Tash didn’t know how to answer. Rich’s outrage was definitely unwelcome this time.

‘Just girl stuff,’ she stuttered.

‘Well, don’t. Don’t talk to Jayne. She’s a horrible, malicious scandalmonger. She’s not to be trusted. Why can’t you make Mia your friend?’

‘You’re telling me who I can and can’t talk to?’

‘Jayne is not a suitable friend.’

‘You sound like a Victorian husband,’ said Tash, aghast.

‘You are scaring me. Next you’ll be saying I can’t work when we have children, and you’ll dish out housekeeping and tell me not to buy anything frivolous.’

‘Don’t be stupid.’

Her fears didn’t feel stupid. They felt very, very real. The couple fell silent.

Rich was thinking about the fabulous summer that he and Tash had enjoyed. They’d played tennis together, rode their mountain bikes around Richmond Park. They’d been to countless bars and clubs. They’d shopped, slept, loved, laughed, played, cooked and eaten together. They had lots in common. Rich lost himself in a specific memory: he and Tash rollerblading in Hyde Park last August.

They were both fairly accomplished, although personally he had thought he was marginally better until suddenly Tash started to do these clever little tricks. Nothing too adventurous at first, just tiny jumps and turns, but there had been a group of gay guys picnicking near by and she’d caught their attention. They’d enthusiastically whooped their encouragement with the
joie de vivre
that the French are famous for, but the gay community actually possesses. Tash had responded marvellously, her confidence growing with their mounting praise until she attempted complicated twirls and short sequences. Tricks she’d learnt as a girl, when she used to ice skate, she later explained to Rich. The picnickers became quite raucous in expressing their appreciation. They cheered and clapped with glee, which in turn attracted more onlookers. In the end there was a crowd watching Tash perform as though she were some kind of professional.

Rich had felt so proud, so totally and utterly proud of his beautiful Tash, who could do tricks on rollerblades. It was possibly the proudest moment of his life, way more exciting than passing his degree or getting his first job. It amazed him to recognize that this moment was more enchanting for him than losing his virginity or buying his first apartment. It was love. It delighted him that the woman who everyone was watching, the woman everyone admired and adored, loved him. And suddenly everything had seemed right with the world. He believed the world was a better place because the crowd recognized the wonder of Tash. Complete strangers could see how spectacular she was – and he didn’t just mean the simple act of being able to gracefully execute some clever blading tricks. He believed that they were cheering the essence of her, the total brilliance of the woman he was in love with.

Tash was still fuming that Rich had called her stupid. She abruptly stood up. ‘I need some air.’

With that, Tash turned on her heel and strode out of the bar. Tash had probably only walked a few hundred yards back to the hotel, and all Rich’s best friends in the world were nearby in the hotel or here in this bar with him.

Yet.

He felt very alone.

48. Cold Comfort

Tash marched out of the bar into the night. The bar door closed behind her, sealing in the noise of blaring loudspeakers and a hundred voice boxes. She gratefully breathed in the cold air and calming silence.

‘We meet again. We’ll have to stop doing this or else people will talk.’

Tash was startled and jumped. It took her a second to place the voice.

‘Lloyd?’

‘At your service, ma’am,’ he slurred. Lloyd tried to salute, but succeeded only in hitting himself in the eye with the beer bottle he was holding. The effect was comical, and Tash needed a laugh. She giggled.

‘Ouch, that must have hurt.’

‘It would have except most of my body is numb with the cold and the other bits have been anaesthetized by alcohol,’ replied Lloyd. He carefully enunciated every word; it was clear that he was trashed.

‘You are drinking too much, Lloyd,’ said Tash, with her signature honesty. ‘You ought to cut down. You’re not doing yourself any favours.’ Lloyd shrugged, accepting her comment, but not intending to act on it. He was sitting on a wooden bench. He hadn’t bothered to wipe the snow away before he sat down, but didn’t seem to notice it was melting, creating a large sodden area on his jeans.

‘What are you doing out here alone?’ Tash asked.

‘I saw Ted and Kate leave the bar, quite abruptly. I thought they might need me.’

‘In what way?’

‘Oh, just to hail a sleigh because of Ted’s injured ankle, that sort of thing,’ said Lloyd vaguely. ‘Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way,’ he sang, waving his beer bottle around as though he were conducting an orchestra. ‘Whoosh! I love the sleigh bells, don’t you?’

‘Yes. I thought Ted’s ankle was OK now? He skied today, didn’t he?’

‘It’s complicated,’ replied Lloyd. Tash couldn’t understand how catching a sleigh for a ride of few hundred metres could be described as complicated. She was convinced that Lloyd was holding something back.

‘Are they rowing?’ she asked bluntly.

‘Well, that’s the odd thing,’ replied Lloyd. ‘I thought they were. They ought to be. But they weren’t. I followed them out here, and I saw Kate take hold of Ted’s hand. Like this.’ Lloyd grabbed hold of Tash’s hand, very tightly. She flinched, and he noticed. ‘Sorry. Maybe not as tightly as that, but like – affectionate tight. I realized that they didn’t need me at all. No, no, no, not at all. Which is good because, well, it is,’ he hesitated. ‘But I did like being needed, even for that short while.’

Tash didn’t think Lloyd was making much sense. Why ‘ought’ Kate and Ted to be having a domestic? And, if they were, how on earth could Lloyd be of any help? She wasn’t really interested enough to ask either of these things, and instead asked, ‘Are you going to go back into the bar?’

‘I don’t think so. I have all the company I need here.’ Lloyd waved his arm towards a carrier bag.

Tash could see that he’d visited the local mini-market and bought a six-pack of beer and, quite endearingly, a kilo bar of Toblerone. She’d always assumed it was only women who comfort ate.

‘Aren’t you having a very nice time?’ she asked as she lowered herself on to the bench next to him.

Good manners dictated that Lloyd would assure Tash he was having a wonderful time – after all, this was her wedding party. He paused for a second and stared into her large, blue eyes. He knew she’d detect his bullshit if he tried it.

‘Everyone is a couple,’ moaned Lloyd, with an accuracy that startled them both. ‘You and Rich are all loved up and into each other. Quite rightly, I mean it’s days off your wedding.’ Tash didn’t interrupt to say she’d just walked out on Rich. ‘Ted and Kate, of course, and Mia and Jason.’

‘Mia and Jason aren’t a couple.’ This time Tash did interrupt.

‘Oh, yes, they are; they always have been. Even though they aren’t together in a romantic sense, they are always a team.’

‘I thought Jason fancied Jayne, and that blonde you told me about, and oh, well, any of a number.’

‘Oh, yes, he fancies those women, but Mia is the one he talks to.’

‘They are always bickering, always at each other’s throats.’

‘I know. It’s as though they are married already, isn’t it,’ said Lloyd with a grin.

‘But Mia isn’t interested in him, is she?’

‘She is. Very much so, if this week is anything to go by. She’s obsessed with him.’

‘With Jase?’

‘Yes, Jase. She’s always watching him, laughing with him, chatting with him.’

This was all too much for Tash to take in. She’d had nearly the identical conversation with Jayne this morning, but about Mia and
Rich
. Could Lloyd be right and Jayne mistaken? Was Mia interested in Jase, not Rich? Maybe that’s why she took boarding lessons and maybe that’s why she was always hanging around the pool hall. Oh, God, she hoped so.

It wouldn’t explain why Mia seemed to dislike Tash, though.

Tash tuned back to her conversation with Lloyd, ‘Well, look on the bright side, that leaves you Jayne to chat to, and Jayne is gorgeous.’

Lloyd shook his head. Yes, Jayne was a beauty, and she was without doubt informed, clever and chatty, but he felt too old for late-night flirtations in loud bars. He regretted… what? He was too drunk to articulate exactly what he regretted. The regret fluttered around his head, like a flighty red admiral butterfly, always escaping his net. He certainly regretted being here alone. He should have insisted that Greta was invited along, too. Why hadn’t he?

‘No one seems to be having a very good night, do they?’ admitted Tash. She didn’t see any point in pretending it was otherwise. ‘A superstitious bride would be worried about that on the run-up to her wedding.’

‘Are you superstitious?’ asked Lloyd.

‘Not normally.’ Tash grinned at Lloyd.

‘Sophie, my ex,’ added Lloyd, as though Tash would have forgotten who Sophie was, ‘she was very superstitious. She wouldn’t walk under ladders, was forever throwing salt over her shoulder and on the first of the month she’d pinch and punch me.’ Lloyd took another swig of his beer.

‘What?’ asked Tash slightly bemused. She was pretty sure that Lloyd wasn’t a victim of domestic violence. So what was he going on about?

‘You know. “Pinch, punch, first of the month.” We would race to say, “White Rabbits,” on the first day of the month, then sort of playfully pinch and punch the one who’d forgotten to say it. All nonsense, of course. Couple stuff.’

Lloyd took a drag on his fag. Tash didn’t think this was the moment to point out that he didn’t smoke. Lloyd looked wistful. Tash was cold and fed up. It had been a long day, and she wanted to go to bed and shut out all this confusion and mess. She needed to sleep on all the conversations she’d had today and try to draw some sense from them, but she’d honed in on Lloyd’s need and couldn’t ignore it.

‘Tell me more about Sophie. What is she like?’

‘A bit like you, actually, in the beginning,’ replied Lloyd truthfully. Immediately he started to apologize, ‘Sorry. That wasn’t a come-on.’

‘I didn’t take it as one.’

‘Thanks. It’s just so many people seem to take everything I say in the wrong way at the moment.’ Lloyd paused, ‘Well, for a while now. I’ve come to the conclusion that Sophie was right about that, at least. I’m not a very good communicator. Com-mun-ee-kate-oor.’

Lloyd repeated the word. He wished he’d been given a pound for every time someone had asked him to communicate better. It annoyed him intensely. It wasn’t as though he was deliberately obscure. Perhaps the civil service wasn’t the right field for him if he was such a dismal communicator.

Or perhaps it was.

Tash nodded towards the carrier bag of beer, ‘Do you mind if I join you?’

‘Help yourself.’

As Tash settled back on to the wooden bench, accepting the inevitability of a cold, wet bum, she asked, ‘So, go on, what is she like?’

Lloyd thought it was odd that Tash spoke of Sophie in the present tense. No one ever did that nowadays. They talked about her in the past tense, and often in whispers, as though she was dead. And in many ways she was dead, at least to him.

‘Bubbly. Funny. Loud. Emotional.’ Lloyd listed his ex-wife’s character traits as though he were reading a train timetable until he said, ‘Honest,’ when he became more intense. He grappled with the word. ‘Her honesty, her ability… no, her need to say what she feels is the thing that reminds me of you.’

‘Oh, I wondered if it was our unpopularity.’

‘You’re not unpopular.’ Lloyd was genuinely surprised. The boys hadn’t really discussed Tash much, beyond ‘good legs’ and ‘good laugh’, but that general consensus of approval was high acclaim in boy world.

‘Not normally, no.’

‘All the guys think Rich has done far better than he deserves. He’s a very lucky chap.’ Lloyd hoped he didn’t sound as though he was flirting. He needn’t have worried, he didn’t sound as though he was flirting. Flirting had never been his line.

‘I guess I’ve been hoping for too much.’

‘You have a problem with us, his old gang, don’t you?’

‘No. No, not at all.’ Lloyd raised one eyebrow and looked sceptical. ‘A little bit at first. I guess I felt left out,’ Tash admitted. ‘I pride myself on not being jealous of his past romances, conquests, liaisons, call them what you will. But I find myself simply jealous of his past friendships. I felt I had to catch up on years of history in just a couple of days. It’s not possible.’

‘Sophie used to say similar things. She said that we were a very exclusive crew.’

‘She was right. I hadn’t realized that I was about to enter some secret society with passwords and handshakes and everything.’

‘You’re exaggerating.’

‘Am I?’ Tash felt irritated that her new friend wasn’t endorsing her point of view more wholeheartedly.

‘I don’t believe you haven’t fallen under Jason’s spell. He’s a delight.’

‘I have,’ confessed Tash. ‘I think he’s great, and I really like Jayne, but Rich doesn’t.’

‘Doesn’t he? Why not?’ Lloyd was surprised. He’d seen Rich and Jayne together quite a lot. He’d thought they got along fine. Lloyd could not imagine a man alive that would not have a soft spot for Jayne. ‘Kate has a heart of gold,’ Lloyd pointed out. Tash nodded. ‘And if Ted is a bit distant at the moment it’s because he has things on his mind. I know Mia can be sharp, but –’

‘But what? What’s her excuse for such constant rudeness? She has relentlessly worked to make me feel barred and unwelcome.’

Lloyd shrugged and chose not to reply. Tash had thought Lloyd would understand how it felt not to be accepted as part of the select crew, as he had so clearly been excluded of late. Hadn’t he noticed? They were both on the outside. It annoyed Tash that he was blinded by what she considered to be misplaced loyalty.

‘So Mia is the problem.’

‘She seems to do her utmost to make me feel inadequate. I am so sick of listening to her historical anecgloats! I feel I’m marrying into a mafia.’

Lloyd chuckled, ‘That’s exactly what Sophie used to say. She was always making jokes about finding a horse’s head on her pillow.’ Tash didn’t see the joke. ‘We’re mates, though, aren’t we?’ asked Lloyd.

Tash looked at him and smiled. ‘Yes, we are,’ she confirmed. Tash patted Lloyd’s leg, pecked him on the cheek and stood up, ‘I’ve said and drunk too much. I’m going to bed to sleep this off. Good night.’

‘Night.’ Tash strode through the snow. It crunched under her new pink, fluffy boots. ‘Nice boots,’ called Lloyd.

‘Thanks,’ yelled Tash back into the blackness; she was already fifty yards away. She ground her footprints into the snow. Bloody Rich hadn’t even noticed them. Barbara Cartland pink, furry, knee-high boots, and he hadn’t even noticed them. What was he thinking of? Tash wondered if she had the courage to ask. The pitch darkness helped. Lloyd wouldn’t be able to see her humiliation.

‘Lloyd?’

‘Yes?’

‘Do you think there is anything going on between Rich and Mia?’

‘Hah. Good God, no.’

Tash grinned, cheered by the emphatic answer, and went on her way.

Lloyd listened to the sound of her feet scrunching through the fresh snow. He listened until the scrunching died away, then he listened to the silence of the black night and the huge Alps. Lloyd couldn’t decide if he was simply very, very drunk, but he felt strangely buoyed up, almost elated. This was twice on this trip when he’d set out to offload some of his problems and found himself in the position of confidant. It felt rather good. He felt important and needed.

Lloyd wondered if he should make his way back to the hotel, too. It wouldn’t do to get so drunk that he passed out. He’d get hypothermia.