The Beard (17 page)

Amy chuckled at the idea. “Well, no,” she said.

“I think we both need to face the truth,” continued Tom. “You’re straight, desperate and just about clinging to your looks, and I’m a fabulous catch who’s well above your normal league.”

Amy grabbed a cushion and hit Tom with it as hard as she could without actually moving herself from him.

“You know what I’m saying,” he continued, brushing his hair back into some semblance of shape. “I need to get someone in my life and so do you. Or you need to move on with this guy you’ve met. This will keep your parents happy, but it’s just the last gig of our pretend relationship. This is our farewell tour.”

Amy sat up and looked at him with earnest. “So, what you saying?”

“I’m saying, you need to spend time with your bloke and, well…” Tom exhaled all the breath in his body, reluctant to say it, “…I need to get a man, too.” There, it was out. “Don’t I?” he added.

Amy turned slightly and hugged him. “Yes,” she said breathlessly. “You do!”

She returned to her position alongside him on the bed. “So…” she said curiously.

“Yeeesssssss,” he offered,
nervously expecting a flood of questions.

Amy looked at him and held his hand. Tom raised his eyebrows in expectation. “Does this mean,” Amy started, “that you’re dumping me?”

Tom clasped her hands and looked lovingly into her eyes: “I am. You’re too fat for me.”

With that, another pillow found itself rocketing towards his head. Amy stood up and walked across the room to find her phone.

“It’s a shame your aunt had to meet me,” Tom mused as he was flicking Amy’s knickers off the bed and across the room.

Amy, unaware that her smalls were being catapulted in various directions, kept looking for her phone. “Why?” she asked, still rooting in piles of clothes.

“Well, if she hadn’t, you could’ve taken Sammy boy to the wedding. I mean, they wouldn’t know who I was from Adam.”

Amy turned and looked at the scattered lingerie around the room. She looked straight at Tom and raised her eyebrow disapprovingly.
“Wouldn’t work,” she said as she started collecting the various items from the floor. “I’ve sent them pics, anyway. They know exactly what to expect.”

Tom looked confused. “You sent them pics?”

“Well, of course I did,” said Amy, surprised at Tom’s question. “When I told them that we were going out, they wanted to see what you looked like. I just reasoned that you’d never meet them. I mean, I rarely see them and they never visit. So I sent them that pic of you and me when we were in that gay bar doing cocktails and karaoke. Remember, you said you were channeling Nina Simone.”

“I
remember,” said Tom. “And I was!” he added in protest.

Amy dumped a pile of clothes onto one of her chairs and gave Tom a sideways glance. “I like that pic. You look happy in it. Anyway, I sent a few others and then Edith confirmed that you were the same man and bingo – we’re official.”

There was a considered pause. Amy attempted to tidy more of the mess in her room.

“So…” began Tom tentatively. Amy knew what was coming and stopped tidying. “How are things going with lover boy?”

Amy chose to ignore the tone and sat down in one of her empty chairs. “They’re going very well. Thanks for asking.”

“How long you been seeing him now?” Tom asked, more as a test than a question. He already knew.

Amy looked down and shook her head. Her hair danced as if each strand was on a string in a puppet show. “Dunno. Couple of months?” she offered.

“Good, good. And things are…” Tom began.

“They’re good, Tom. Really, they are. He’s really nice. Really kind,” Amy replied with a softness of tone that had been noticeably missing for some time.

“Go on…” said Tom, wanting her to take advantage of the moment.

“What can I say? He’s handsome – very handsome. Well, you know, you’ve seen his pic. He’s strong and he makes me laugh. I think what he does is just amazing. I mean, on the one hand, it’s great that he travels the world and helps human-rights cases. But, I don’t know, it’s a bit of a pain that he’s away so much. When we see each other, it’s brilliant, like we’ve never been apart. We can’t stop talking. Then he’s off again.” Amy fell silent and looked mournful. “So, that’s it, really.”

Tom smiled a watery smile and raised an eyebrow. “So, if you and him get serious, will he get a desk job or will you travel with him?”

Amy smiled and giggled nervously. “Do you always have to be practical?” she asked. Tom nodded slowly but with pride. “Well, actually…” she began, her voice trailing off.

“Do I need to be sitting down for this?” asked Tom. The tension in the room was noticeable, but not feisty. Yet.

“He’s asked me to go away with him.” Amy looked up at Tom for his initial reaction, which was one of surprise.

“What, to live or on holiday?” he enquired practically.

Amy looked down at her feet again. “Well... he’s travelling a lot between here and Thailand and says it would be great if he didn’t have to keep coming back to the UK. He says he only comes back to see me. He said that if I were to go out with him, maybe on an extended holiday, we could see how it goes. No pressure.”

Tom was taken aback. Selfishly, his immediate reaction was to consider the impact on his life. He was well aware that his feelings were entirely self-absorbed and tried to keep the flicker of disappointment hidden. “Sounds great,” he lied. “How long for?”

“A few months,” came the immediate reply. Tom nodded in silence. “What you thinking?” asked Amy.

Tom shook his head as if he was care-free. “Don’t know,” he replied honestly. “I mean, on the one hand, you’ve only known the guy five minutes. So, going around the world to live with him sounds a bit extreme. Then again, you can always just come home, I suppose.” The room fell into silence as they both contemplated this eventuality. “Although, what on earth will your mother say when you and I split up and within months, you’re off with another man?”

Amy’s smile was weak and concealed a secret.

“What is it?”
asked Tom. “And don’t lie.”

Amy didn’t move her head but looked up at Tom staring back at her. “That’s the thing. He wants me to go… the week after next.”

“WHAT?” said Tom, nearly knocking plaster off the walls with his horror. “What do you mean the week after next?”

It was at this point that Amy knew her policy of keeping a lid on things might not, in hindsight, have been a wise move.

Tom stood up and stopped looking receptive. “The week after next? What do you mean? You’re not going off with some man to bloody Thailand until I’ve vetted him!”

Amy stared at Tom as he snorted his irritation. “I’m not just going off with him, so calm down!” she offered by means of reassurance. “He’s starting a stint out there and asked if I’d like to join him. It was going to be in
December, but then it got moved forward to that week. He knows it’s a big ask, but he says I have to go out with him when he goes. I can’t go later.”

“Why not?” barked Tom.

Amy was taken aback by the continued resistance, but continued. “He says he can sort all my paperwork if I go at the same time as him, but sorting visas and everything once he’s there will be a pain. And as we’re not married, the immigration people there would think I was visiting. So it just makes sense.” Tom stood frowning. “So, anyway,” continued Amy, “I said I’d think about it. I mean, it’s a massive thing. I really like him and, well, I think he might be The One. I don’t want to screw it up just because I got a dose of the jitters.”

Tom was about to reply in kind but Amy cut him off. “And I know that if he feels the same way, he’ll wait for me. He’s already said he will. He said there was no pressure on me at all but that he can’t come back for three months, so if I fancy an adventure, I should consider it. That was all. He said he gets lonely and it would be great for us to spend time there, that he’d show me around. But if I can’t make it this time, that’s fine, too. There really is no pressure. He just kept saying, ‘If this bloody job hadn’t moved, this wouldn’t look so sudden.’ And he’s right. If he’d planned to go in
December, it wouldn’t look so mad, would it?”

Tom’s brow thinned somewhat. Nothing he’d heard sounded unreasonable or unfeasible. “When exactly?” he asked quietly.

Amy shrugged her shoulders as if to imply a casual, devil-may-care attitude. “Probably midweek, after the wedding.”

Tom was trying to process the information he’d been handed. “What about work?” he asked.

Amy snorted. “Janet’s well up for it. Says she’ll keep my job on ice for me.” She mimed speech marks as she said “on ice” and mouthed the words slowly. “I think she thinks that with me out of the picture and you alone and on the market, she stands a chance.”

Tom raised both eyebrows. “Yeah, right,” was all he could muster in response. “So,” he continued after some thought, “she thinks you’re ditching me for some other bloke. Do I know about this?”

Amy blushed. “Not exactly… I said that you and I were drifting and that I’d make a decision at the wedding about whether to go or stay.”

Tom looked unimpressed with this high drama. “So, she thinks everything hinges on the wedding?”

Amy nodded. “She’s told me to text, call and send her pics to keep her up to date.”

Tom stared at Amy, devoid of any real emotion. “And all this simply to get your mother off your back.” He shook his head. “Was it worth it?”

Amy was stung by the comment. It couldn’t be denied that things had developed out of all control or plan. This wasn’t what she’d imagined. Thinking about her original ‘white lie’, that she was seeing Tom, she felt a bit foolish. She’d wanted to shut her mother up but had pursued a rather childish path in doing so.

She looked bashful and rolled the past few months around in her memory. “We’ve had some fun, though, haven’t we?”

Tom smiled. That, he couldn’t deny. “Yes, we have,” he said. “And this weekend, this wedding, will be the last hurrah before you jet off to sunnier climes with Mr Lover Man.”

Amy didn’t care for that reality. “Don’t say that,” she said. “It’s not the last hurrah, just the last one for now. We’ve gone months without seeing each other in the past. It’ll be the same as then.”

They both smiled and looked away from each other. They knew that it wasn’t going to be even remotely like before. On those occasions, they’d lived in close proximity to one another. Now, who knew? Amy could stay in the Far East forever. Maybe she’d marry the handsome human-rights lawyer. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

“So, if you get married there, will that make you a Thai bride?” enquired Tom.

Amy looked at him with affection. She’d miss that. “Oh, shut up,” she managed. “Be nice to me or I’ll give Janet your number.”

“Do that,” countered Tom, “and I’ll tell your mum that you’re a lesbian!”

Amy laughed and walked over to him. “Good luck with that.” She chuckled. “She thinks I can’t get anyone to sleep with me. If she thought I was a lesbian, she might just be delighted that I’d met someone. Especially if we could share underwear.”

Tom’s face glowed with mischief. “Maybe you can share your undies with Mr Lover Man. After all, Thailand is known for it.”

Before he knew it, yet another cushion was heading in his direction. With a flump, it landed on his head as he began laughing.

“Anyway,” said Amy, “he’s asked me to go out to dinner on Wednesday to talk about it and what’s needed. Come along if you want. Then you can meet him and vet him – see what you think.”

“And?” said Tom petulantly.

Amy was confused. “And what?”

Tom sat up. “Well, if I say I don’t trust him, will you still go?” Amy’s lack of response was answer enough. “That’s what I thought,” Tom managed, before sighing.

“I have to make my own way in life,” Amy replied with a hint of defiance.

Tom smiled at her. “You do indeed, my dear – and it’s about time, too. I just can’t wait to see your mother’s face.”

Amy nodded
. “I might just tell her it’s for work. Keep her out of the picture.”

Tom laughed. “Yeah, because the lies hav
e worked so well for you so far.”

Amy looked up at him like a small child caught stealing sweets. “Shut up!” she protested.

Despite the jovial end to the matter, they both sensed that something fundamental had changed. Something that made them both sad, because of its frightening inevitability.

Tom stumbled through the door, dropping his rucksack, bags and shopping in a heap.

He kicked the various baggage along the hallway and closed the door behind him. He leant against the wall and sighed.

Ash came running down the stairs with an unusual degree of urgency. “Hello stranger…” he smiled.

Tom managed to draw upon an energy reserve sufficient to cast a withering glance in Ash’s direction.

“Listen, I know you’ve been really busy running that place, but I have a surprise for you!” Ash jumped down the final three steps and landed a few feet away from Tom. As he hit the floor, he performed a theatrical landing, resulting in him standing with his hands in the air. Tom looked back at him with unreserved disdain.