The Harder They Fall (34 page)

“I’m gonna go and get some kip soon,” Wotto explained to Teddy on his next circuit. “Gonna be working through the night.” Teddy nodded and carried on scrubbing at the choux pastry stuck in the bottom of the pan, another one now sliding in underneath. Wotto grinned at him. “Thanks for helping out, mate,” he said, and off he went again.

At the university, Josh was in session, enjoying the mental break afforded by having to focus on his student clients, rather than thinking about George, or Eleanor’s wedding, or any other of the myriad things going on with his friends. In between appointments, his mind lapsed back into worrying about Andy and Jess’s situation, wondering how Dan was, whether Eleanor was fretting about tomorrow, if he’d done the right thing in telling George, and round again in a circle of confusion that was making him feel queasy. Meanwhile, George, who had travelled in with him, was at the library getting in some reading before he met up with Sophie for lunch. He too was struggling to stay focused, but needed to come up with ideas for what kind of placement he wanted, before he arranged anything concrete with Sean. The default was to opt for something along the lines of the generic therapy that Josh offered; after all, it was only a placement, not a long-term career choice, although his enthusiasm for either was a little deflated at present. He returned the pile of books and wandered along the shelves, looking for inspiration. When it came, it hit him with an almighty smack of ‘duh!’ and he immediately packed up his stuff and headed off to meet Sophie.

The walk home from her mother’s took Eleanor within minor detour distance of her surgery, so she decided to stop by and see Jess. She didn’t particularly want to have things out with her, but if she didn’t do it now, then it would be hanging over them tomorrow, so she made her way past the empty reception desk, silently admonishing herself for being annoyed with Lois for having flu. It was only one less guest, and it wasn’t her fault, bless her. Onwards, up the stairs she went, to Jess’s office. The door was closed, although she could see through the glass that Jess was alone. She knocked and opened the door at the same time. Jess was sitting with pen poised in hand, her current work part-covered by piles of paper and files.

“A busy week?” Eleanor asked nonchalantly.

“Fairly. I didn’t realise how hard Lois works.” Jess kept her eyes fixed on the unfiled paperwork in front of her. She couldn’t bring herself to look at her friend.

“Quite.”

“Maybe we should consider getting another assistant to help her out.”

“Maybe.” Eleanor was waiting for an apology, understandably expecting it to be volunteered without prompting. However, it wasn’t forthcoming, so she sat in the chair opposite Jess and folded her arms. “If I’m not getting an apology, do I at least deserve an explanation?”

“There’s nothing to explain. I was only gone for an hour and to be honest I’m surprised you missed me at all. You looked like you had plenty enough company to me.”

Eleanor knew precisely what she was trying to do and wasn’t going to play into her hands. “Fine. Blame me for the fact that
you
ran out on
my
hen party, if it makes you feel better. For what? A last quick shag, before Andy gets back?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but that wasn’t how it was. And what has Andy got to do with anything? We’re not actually together, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“No, you’re quite right, you’re not, because that would be far too grown-up and boring, wouldn’t it? You act like a pair of irresponsible teenagers, with no thought whatsoever for the consequences of your actions. Well, I’ve got some news for you, Jess. They hurt people.”

“You’re being over-sensitive. I’d say it’s pre-wedding jitters, but you’re always like this. I was gone for an hour, at most. What did I miss, really? Your Charlotte making an idiot of herself on the dance floor. That’s about all. Oh, and not having to wear those stupid chicken wings.”

Eleanor was so angry she could readily have grabbed Jess by the hair and smashed her head into the desk, but she knew she was in the right and wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction.

“If you’re not careful, you’re going to lose everything. I hope for your sake that Rob’s worth it. You’re one of my best friends, and I love you dearly. But I will never forgive you for leaving last night.”

With these words Eleanor left, fighting the tears of rage just long enough to make it downstairs and out of the door. She wiped her eyes, took a deep breath and continued on her journey home. Jess watched her leave, then phoned Rob to tell him all about it.

Sophie was very cool with George, not because of the broken promise of lunch all week that had transpired into a singular date, but because he was, well, she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. He kept flitting between conversation topics, one minute chattering on about the wedding, the next the outcome of his research that morning. She was having trouble keeping up, although she wasn’t really paying much attention, because everything he was saying was superficial repetition of what he’d already said. She was actually finding it quite amusing to listen to him, and eventually reached a point where she couldn’t stop herself.

“What are you smiling at?” he asked in puzzlement. This time he had been rambling on about Buddhist wedding vows.

“You,” she said. “What’s got into you?”

“Nothing. Why?”

“Because your head’s all over the place.”

“Oh.” George picked up his sandwich and once again half the filling fell out, although this time it hit the plate. “Sorry.” He grinned sheepishly and lowered his eyes.

“It’s OK,” Sophie comforted, patting his hand. “I think I can probably guess what’s happened, and you can tell me when you’re ready, or don’t tell me. Whichever you decide, I totally understand.” He glanced up from the mess of salmon and cucumber.

“It’s a bit…”

“Complicated? It always is with you. Maybe we should talk about something that doesn’t involve Josh?”

“I thought that’s what we had been doing.”

“That’s one interpretation, I suppose, if we ignore the ‘Josh and I have to be at the chapel by one-thirty’, ‘Josh says he needs to buy some new shoes before tomorrow’, ‘Josh suggested I ask Sean if he knows any animal behaviourists’, ‘Josh blah blah blah…’.”

“Ah.”

“Hmm. So, when d’you want this
Crash Team Racing
re-match.” George shook his head. “Really? Err, all right then. Is your suitcase all packed for Monday?” George shook his head again. “Right, well how about—tell me how you suddenly realised you were more interested in animal psychology than human psychology.” George cocked his head on one side. “Oh, for goodness’ sake. I give up. You need to get a life, or at least try and fit some around the edges of Josh.”

“I’ve got a life, thank you very much, it’s just…”

“A bit complicated.” she interrupted.

“I wasn’t going to say that. I was going to say it’s just that as you said, my head is all over the place. I’m having a bit of a problem thinking straight.”

“I’d never have guessed!” Sophie laughed and George tried his best to join in.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she said. “I’m sure it’ll all start to make sense once the wedding is out of the way.”

“I hope so,” George said doubtfully.

As a preamble to their academic meeting that afternoon, Sean had sent Josh an email, apologising for his late visit and generally drunken and disorderly behaviour. Josh was reading it on his phone as he arrived outside Sean’s office. He could hear two voices coming from inside, one instantly recognisable as the rogue Irishman himself, the other, it turned out, a dissertation student who was about to leave. She gave Josh a bewildered smile as she passed him in the doorway. He smiled back and watched her shuffle away, probably feeling even more confused now than when she’d arrived for her supervision session, if his own experience was anything to go by.

Sean was sitting at his desk, surrounded by the usual stacks of books and journals, his computer screen displaying Maslow’s ‘hierarchy of needs’ pyramid. Josh waited by the door, knowing that he would want to adjourn to the bar, although he was going to be sticking to orange juice himself. Three nights out in the past week was already three more than normal, and he still had the wedding to contend with. Sean logged out of his computer, picked up his battered briefcase and followed Josh out of the room, pausing to lock the door, before they headed for the Students’ Union bar, all without a single word spoken.

It was quiet at this time on a Friday afternoon, and they settled into a corner seat, spreading their papers out across two tables. This was their last meeting before the second year of the counselling course commenced, and was really just to put the final touches to assignments and argue out a few issues regarding who would teach what. It took a little over an hour to deal with these matters, at which point they were each sat with an empty glass, willing the other to be the one to suggest another drink so they could say what needed to be said, though neither of them wanted to be the first to do the talking. Eventually Sean took the plunge, more to do with his thirst for Guinness than courage, and in the temporary absence of his colleague, Josh rehearsed his lines. It was the only way he was going to do this.

When Sean returned, he took his time putting everything back in his briefcase, then spread his hands out, palms down, on the table.

“You may have noticed I’ve developed a bit of a drink problem over the years,” he said.

“You do drink a lot,” Josh observed. Sean lifted his hands a few inches off the table’s surface. “Ah,” Josh said, now understanding the full extent of the problem.

“Unfortunately, I’ve come to the reluctant conclusion that abstinence is the only cure,” Sean added sorrowfully.

“You’ve tried cutting back?”

“Many times. Anyway, so, I’m going to be trying some of those God-awful pills—see if I can’t kick the stuff once and for all.” He moved his hands away and took a long, thirsty glug of his pint. Josh mimicked with his orange juice.

“Can I ask you something?” He waited for eye contact before going any further. “Did you tell George what happened?”

“I told him some of it, like your thing for trashing the place and that I let you down.”

“But you didn’t tell him about—you know.”

“No. That’s still our secret, Joshy. I haven’t told a soul.”

“I do wish you wouldn’t call me that.”

“It suits you.”

“It’s very patronising. Perhaps I should start calling you Seany?”

“I wouldn’t care a jot if you did.”

“Hmm, I don’t suppose you would.”

“Well, as I say, I made a promise not to whisper a word about it, and I’ve stayed true to it.” Sean took another gulp of beer. “Although, if you ever…”

“No. I made a promise too, remember?” Josh held the eye contact a second or so more, but then had to look away.

“You’re letting me in again,” Sean acknowledged. “After all this time.”

“Yes, I guess I am. So have you still got them?”

“Locked away, safe and sound. Do you want them back?”

“Not yet. Soon, maybe, but not yet.”

“And will you tell me now what I did that was so wrong?”

“It’s hard to explain.” Josh fiddled with his glass, trying to capture the words, to say what he had refused to give voice to for so long. Sean floundered in the ensuing silence.

“When I followed you to Eleanor’s, she didn’t understand why I’d gone to so much trouble.”

“She doesn’t know any of what went on and we don’t talk about it. But the thing is, you see, what I couldn’t tell you then, well, it seems so foolish now. I was very young.”

“And you’re as hard on yourself now as you were back then.”

“I was so angry with you, Sean. You betrayed me. You betrayed
us
.”

“By doing what Harrington wanted me to do? Did we not have this out last Christmas?”

“Last Christmas was bullshit and you were too fucking drunk to give a damn, as always.”

“You’re way out of line!”

“Am I?” Josh sneered. “Are we not people? What was the next bit again?”

“I was merely trying…”

“To get the low-down on me and George. You want the truth? I was in denial and you caught me on the rebound.”

“You were in love with me?”

“Ha! Don’t flatter yourself! True: I thought we were two of a kind, so yes, I loved you and I respected you. I hated watching you go crawling to Harrington, doing his bidding, in return for what? The promise of a first class you’d have got anyway? But you just carry on telling that fairytale, of how I left you with a year’s rent to pay and a house full of broken furniture, if it appeases your guilt, when it was you who walked out on our friendship, not me; right when I needed you most.”

Now he was starting to understand. “You were in love with George.”

“And without him all that was left was my degree…and you.”

Josh’s words momentarily stunned Sean, and he rubbed his face with his hands, slowly bringing them down to his chin, where they stayed. It took him several minutes to put together what he wanted to say and his eyes remained closed as he spoke.

“He had my grades in front of him, all neatly tabulated—you know what he was like—and he says, ‘Look here, Mr. Tierney? This two one average of yours? Let’s turn it into something special.’ There was nothing I could do; no way out.”

“But you already had a clear first. We both did.”

“That’s what I’m trying to say, don’t you see? Harrington threatened me, and if I’d known about George—I honestly had no idea.”

“Well it’s done now,” Josh said. In his agitation, he had separated a beer mat into its constituent layers and now busied himself with re-constructing them into a neat pile.

“Have you told him?” Sean asked. Josh frowned but didn’t look up. “Have you told him how you felt? Or, should I say, how you feel?”

Josh picked up another beer mat and began the process all over again.

“He’s in love with you too. Do you know that?”

Josh tossed the beer mat to one side and folded his arms. “Yes, and yes. The only reason we’re having this conversation now is because of him.”