The Beard (21 page)

“Where have you been? I’ve been trying to call you!”

For a woman in a crisis, Amy had a great way of starting a conversation. “In the bloody shower, where else?” Tom said bluntly.

“Crisis,” Amy said in a mild state of panic.

“Why, what can’t you find to pack?”

This was met with an immediate, “Piss off, Tom.”

It was at that point Tom’s head raised. He looked at himself in the hall mirror and narrowed his eyes. When Amy swore, she was either in a tizz or trying to be funny
– but when she used his name, she was being serious.

“OK,” said Tom, adopting a less hostile tone. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Sam…” she started. Tom afforded himself a wry smile. Here we go, he thought.

“Oh no – what?” he faked.

Amy was largely breathless at this point, clamouring for words. “You know the trip to Thailand?”

It was an utterly pointless question. She’d spoken of nothing else for weeks and, only the night before last, Tom had met the knight in shining armour taking her there. So, yes, he knew.

“Yes, of course. What?” he replied. All he could think of was that it had been cancelled.

“Sam said we have to go tonight.”

There was silence on both ends of the phone.

“Why?” asked Tom, genuinely confused. The trip had been brought forward by a few months, yes, but these dates had seemed fixed for ages. What was so important that they had to leave on Friday as opposed to Monday?

“I’m not sure,” Amy replied, flustered. “He said something about his clients needing him there now – like, yesterday – and if I want to go with him, I have to go now. He said he’s been packing bags all night to get ready in time, and that I need to be ready to go.”

Silence returned as Tom tried to fathom what was going on. “So, what?” he said. “Do you want me to come and help pack? Is that it?”

Amy seemed upset. “No!” she shouted at him.

“Surely, you aren’t bothered about the wedding, are you?” asked Tom. “You didn’t want to go in the first place. Look upon this as a golden ticket.”

There was snivelling at the other end of the phone. “I know.”

Tom had always had reservations about this trip. He assumed that this was simply because he liked to plan everything down to the last and finest detail. He’d been described, without any irony or intimation, as “anal”. This particula
r trip smacked of far too much ‘lastminutism’ for his liking. Ultimately, Amy wouldn’t be on the phone sobbing if she didn’t agree.

“What’s wrong, Amy? You don’t seem up for this.” It was the nicest way Tom could think of to identify the problem without starting a fight.

“He was mean to me,” Amy mumbled into the phone. This usually meant that she was being stupid and someone had snapped in irritation at her. Tom had lost count of the times she’d accused him of being mean to her. As such, not wanting to side with anyone, Sam had the edge.

“In what way?” Tom asked, as if contractually obliged.

There was a period of silence, followed by, “I told him it was the wedding and everyone was expecting to see me. He just shouted at me. Said did I want to come out with him or not? He seemed really angry.”

Again, Amy had cried wolf too many times. She’d accused the postman of being passive-aggressive because he’d woken her up one morning with a package. A package she claimed could’ve been slipped through the letterbox (but which she couldn’t upon trying). As such, a pinch of salt was always needed with such claims.

That said, it was hardly surprising that someone who’d thought they had days to pack, only to discover that they now had hours, would be tense. The point was made to Amy, but she seemed somewhat unmoved by the logic.

“I didn’t like the way he spoke to me,” she said, regaining some composure.

“Well…” Tom started. “Don’t go. After all, what do you actually know about this guy?” Then, in an effort to seem unbiased, he added, “On the other hand, you’re about to move in with a relative stranger and move around the world. There’s bound to be some tension and some angst. I know I’d shout at you.” Amy laughed. “Just tell your mum that Janet got the flights wrong and go. I’m sure she’ll understand.” There was a guffaw at that thought. “OK,” Tom continued, “maybe she won’t understand, but when she calls or visits you in Thailand, she’ll believe you… how about that? I mean, you may have done some wild things in your time, but you’re not likely to move to the Far East to dodge one family weekend, now, are you?”

“No, I suppose not.”

It was only when the silence returned to their conversation that Tom began to wonder what was really going on. “Are you having second thoughts?” he asked.

Amy’s lack of reply answered his question. By the time she mumbled, “Don’t know,” he knew.

“Well, look. If he’s the man you say he is, and he’s so wonderful and stuff, and there’s no pressure on you to go, tell him it’s all too sudden. Tell him that you want to go, but that you need more time. Keep the relationship going over the next couple of months and take things from there. I mean, at least you’ll know he’s The One, then, won’t you?”

“I suppose,” Amy said. Tom was aware that the relative time between her replying to each suggestion meant that she was even more unsure than she was letting on. Amy was always the same – excited by brochure pictures, terrified by the reality.

“I’m nearly done here,” soothed Tom. “I’ll come over – we can have a coffee and a chat, and see what to do next. Then we can drive to the wedding or to the airport. Even if you are flying out tonight, you still have all day to pack. Even you can’t take that long!”

Amy sniffled at the end of the line. “OK,” she said meekly.

“See you soon,” Tom concluded, before hanging up.

Ash wandered back into the hall, a piece of toast dangling from his mouth. “Do we have any bread left?” asked Tom with distinct irritability.

“No,” came the reply. “Put some on the shopping list, will you?”

Tom sighed and realised that he was still half-naked.

“What’s the crisis?” asked Ash.

Tom made his way up the stairs. “The usual. The guy wants her to go with him tonight, not next week, so she’s in a tizz.”

Ash made his way to the bottom of the stairs. “It sounds like you need my calm, guiding influence. I’ll come over with you.”

Tom turned around. “Calm, guiding influence?” he questioned with a laugh.

Ash looked impervious. “OK, I need a lift into town – I’m meeting John later. Things are getting sear-ee-ous!” Ash sang the words and twiddled his fingers at Tom, as if to show off a non-existent ring.

“Could he be The One?” Tom asked facetiously.

Ash twirled around at the foot of the stairs, one hand clasping the stair rail, the other his slice of toast. “I’d say he is.” He looked dreamily around as he swung. “But I’ll pop in to see broken-down Amy on my way to true love.”

Tom turned to go back upstairs. “You really are a shallow little man, aren’t you?” he said as he ascended the stairs.

“And you need Botox and a gift subscription to a slimmers’ club,” said Ash, prancing off.

When Amy opened the door to her house, she looked like she’d been bungee jumping. Her hair was everywhere and her loose-fitting top hung from her slight frame like an oversized gown on a small hanger.

“Woah!” said Ash as she opened the door. “It’s not bloody Halloween, love!” With that, he pushed past her, throwing an air kiss her way as he did. “Nice house,” he said, scanning the available rooms on display. “I’m assuming you didn’t decorate them.”

Amy looked at Tom with dead eyes.

“He’s leaving soon,” said Tom by means of reassurance.

“You look like a jilted bride and smell like a moist gusset,” Ash offered, checking his phone.

“Go and find the kitchen and make us all a drink, you prick,” scowled Tom.

Ash looked up at Tom. “Easy, tiger,” he said before flouncing off.

Amy, who did look like crap, stood before Tom. “I don’t know what to do. I mean, I wait ages for a bloke as nice as Sam and when he comes along, I’m having doubts. What’s wrong with me?”

Tom sat down on the bottom step. “Yeah, but, come on, it’s not like he’s just asked you to go to the cinema. He’s asking you to move abroad with him. How long have you known him?”

As true as this was, it did little to sate Amy’s concerns.

“Yeah, but what if I blow it? What if he’s The One? And he’s, like, ‘You coming away with me on an all-expenses-paid trip?’ And I’m, like, ‘Duh, no.’ Is that something I’m going to regret forever?”

“Don’t know,” said Tom honestly. “When have you got to decide?”

“He said the flights are at nine tonight. We need to be at the airport for six, but I should be 100 per cent ready to go at two this afternoon.”

Tom thought that odd. “Why?” he asked.

“No idea,” was Amy’s drained reply. “Probably to make sure that I’m committed and won’t dither.”

They both stood in silence as Ash could be heard smashing around in the kitchen. “Come on,” said Tom, standing up. “Let’s pack, see how you feel then.”

Both he and Amy trooped up the stairs and into her room. As they made their way to the top, Ah-Lam smiled and walked past them. She bowed gently as she passed them in the corridor and scurried out of the house. “She’s leaving,” said Amy with a deadpan delivery. “Says we’re odd.”

Tom allowed the words to frame the moment. There they both stood, Tom ready to go to a wedding, where he would pretend to be Amy’s boyfriend, while Amy had to decide whether to ditch him and go to Thailand with her real boyfriend. Maybe Ah-Lam had a point. “Funny girl,” said Amy as they continued their climb.

Wandering into her room, she fell onto her bed, where pile upon pile of clothes had been stacked. She lay motionless as Tom surveyed the scene. Time was suspended as Amy rolled around groaning and Tom tried to calculate how long it would take to clean the room.

“Coffee!” shouted Ash as he wandered in. Three cups of brown liquid sat on a biscuit-tin lid he’d used for a tray. He handed a cup to Amy, who remained face down on the bed. “I’m assuming you’re off sugar,” he said, gesturing to her waist. Amy, without looking up, growled at him.

“Testy!” said Ash, sitting down and munching on the only biscuit on the tray. “Nice luggage,” he managed, spitting ginger-nut fragments everywhere.

Tom turned to look at two opened suitcases on the floor. They were expensive designer brands. “Sam got me them for the trip. Said I should feel special from the beginning,” Amy uttered, facing the room.

Ash looked at her, almost welling up. “Well, if you don’t want to go, love, I will!”

Everyone stared at the luggage. “Am I being silly?” Amy asked.

In some respects, the silence that followed said enough.

“You are, dear,” said Ash. Both Tom and Amy looked up at him. It was odd for him to offer a serious opinion. “Very silly.”

Amy sat up, looked at Ash and sighed. Then, for no reason, she grabbed a nearby garment and threw it into the case. Ash watched it land, then leant forward, grabbed the opened case lid and closed it. Amy looked at him, puzzled.

“You’re silly if you think you have to go,” he said, finishing off his biscuit. “I’ll tell you one thing that life has taught me: if you feel pressured into doing something, there’s nothing much wholesome about it. If you have doubts, there’s a reason for that. If you know something’s not right deep down, you also know why.”

Tom and Amy stood transfixed. Had Ash just said that? Had that been the most obvious, sound, sensible advice that either of them had ever heard?

Amy nodded slowly, trying to digest the advice.

“So, I say get a shower – that’s crucial. Get dressed and go and have a blast at the wedding. If this Sam’s all he’s cracked up to be, he’ll be back.”

Amy looked up at Ash, her tear-stained face raw with emotion. She mouthed, “Thank you” at him.

He nodded and smiled back. “Only, don’t wear yellow. It makes you look like vomit.”

At that moment, the front doorbell rang repeatedly. Tom, who was standing by the window above the front door, peered out. “It’s Sam,” he said.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” said Amy, leaping up and running around the room.

Tom walked over to Ash and grabbed his shoulder. Dragging him out of the bedroom, he turned to Amy: “We’ll go to the kitchen. Give you some space.”

All three of them wandered down the stairs as the doorbell rang again and again and again. As soon as the boys were safely tucked away in the kitchen, with the door sufficiently ajar so that they could keep track of events, Amy opened the door.

“You ready, then?” were Sam’s opening words as he brushed past her.

“It’s not two,” was Amy’s instinctive reply.

Sam ignored her and ran up the stairs. “Sam? Sam?” Amy said, chasing after him.

She ran into her room to see Sam lifting the larger of the two suitcases. “You’ve not even started to pack!” he said angrily. “Did I not say we had to go? We have to go today if you want to come. As soon as I go, that’s it. I can do everything in my power to help you come today, but not after. What part of that are you not getting?”