This is a Love Story (39 page)

He leaned close to me now and lowered his voice, keeping his eye on the girls the whole time. ‘I’m not treating her right. I just

can’t be everywhere at the same time. I don’t feel like I’m good enough for her at the moment.’

I flinched a little, glancing over to Chloe and Sienna, hoping they couldn’t hear. Wow. Now this was honesty. And a huge

responsibility on my part. Anything I said at this point could have a marked impact on my best friend’s future.

I looked over at her in The Dress, which plunged at the neck, revealing her delicate collarbone. She was laughing with Chloe,

playing with a strand of hair. They were both engaged in their conversation.

‘Right, OK . . . Well, I don’t want to say the wrong thing. What are you going to do?’ I asked, whispering so quietly it was barely

audible. For a moment we were eye to eye. I could almost see the fear in his pupils.

‘Leave her,’ he said, unblinking.

My blood ran cold. I quickly looked at Sienna in horror, praying to God she hadn’t heard what he’d said, but she and Chloe were

still engrossed. I shuffled awkwardly in my seat and tried to look inconspicuous. I wanted to grab hold of his shoulders and shake

some sense into him. What are you thinking of, boy? I felt guilty even though it wasn’t me saying the words. Like I was doing her

wrong somehow just by hearing this.

‘What? Ben, no, come on. I’m sure you can work through this,’ I pleaded, hating the thought of her being hurt. Abandoned.

Alone. ‘She really likes you, mate, come on.’ I was starting to beg now.

This was so inappropriate. Why was he telling me all this just a metre away from Sienna? Surely if you could proudly say that

Sienna Walker was your girl, you would never let her go. You would kiss her lots. You would hold her every night. You would do

anything . . .

‘Look, I don’t want to offend you here, but do you have a problem with Sienna and me being friends like we are? Because if I’m

honest, Chloe did. But she knows now, she knows that it isn’t . . . you know.’ I was struggling to finish the sentence, but I think he

got the message.

‘I know there’s nothing going on, Nick,’ he said, turning to face me again. ‘But it’s hard to know that you’re number two, you

understand?’

It was as if the sound had been put on mute and his face seemed to blur in front of my eyes. ‘What do you mean?’ I rested my fork

on the edge of my plate, nervous butterflies filling my stomach. I wasn’t hungry any more.

‘Well, I know there isn’t anything going on between you, so don’t worry. It’s just that she adores you, Nick. She bloody adores

you, you’re her best mate, and I find it all very hard to live up to.’ He looked embarrassed again, but I was deeply impressed by the

nakedness of his admission.

His honesty was so rare, yet refreshing. But what would happen if everyone acted like this? ‘I’m sorry, but I stopped seeing you

because when you took your clothes off, your bum freaked me out,’ or ‘I moved away from you on the train because your breath

smells like the back end of a donkey.’ People would get pissed off . . .

I cleared my throat to say something, but I didn’t know what to say. My cheeks were burning up. Sienna adores me? Bloody

adores me? Hard to live up to? Was I really hearing this? Half of me wanted to shake him out of it, and the other half wanted to

punch the air with joy. Ben picked up the wine bottle and tipped the rest of it into my glass as if to wipe my memory of his

confession.

I sat there for a few seconds. Seconds which felt like long-drawn-out, hideously awkward minutes. I hadn’t realised I meant so

much to her. What would I say? I thought, as the predictably awful disco music kicked in, saving me from the intensity of my

feelings.

I was finally ready to speak. ‘Well, er, right. OK. Er, wow.’ I suddenly became aware that I was waffling even more than Hugh

Grant did in Four Weddings. I was getting frustrated just listening to my own dithering. I tried again. ‘That’s lovely in a way, Ben –

and yes, Sienna and I are close friends. But don’t feel like it’s something to live up to . . . I really admire you, I get on with you really

well. I don’t want this to become an issue . . . Pal, she really likes you.’ Phew.

He looked relieved, but still troubled. There was marked concern across his features. He was a frightened man and I had a horrible

feeling he was still about to run away from her.

‘Nick, Nick! Come over here, you have to come and see what Lydia has made out of carrots!’ came a sudden shriek from Tom,

who was horribly drunk already for the relatively early hour. I put my hand up in his direction as he put his weight on my shoulders

and leaned over, laughing hard.

‘Tom, please – that sounds great, but I’m kind of in the middle of something here . . . I’ll be over soon, OK?’

‘All right, you boring bastards,’ he said, ruffling my hair as he stumbled away. Idiot.

‘Anyway. Come on, Ben . . .’

‘God, I’m so sorry, Nick. I’m an idiot. It’s fine. I’ll deal with this.’ He pushed the silverware together on his plate to indicate he

had finished.

‘Please don’t leave her. Please?’

I couldn’t believe I was begging him like this. I just couldn’t bear the thought of seeing her hurting. Especially when I looked

across the table and saw her smiling, looking like a glittering little star. I turned back and he was gone.

The rest of the night was a drunken haze. Lydia had constructed a naked man out of vegetables, which had been passed around

the room on a large square plate. When it reached our table, I managed to drop it, turning me into the most hated individual of the

night for ruining her masterpiece. Thankfully it only took a Cosmopolitan cocktail to apologise to Lydia.

Tom managed to get so drunk that he sang Barbie Girl through the karaoke machine three times in a row and still wowed the

‘crowd’ like he was Jon Bon Jovi. Chloe and I danced to the slow songs, my hands around her waist, remembering the last time I’d

danced like this.

‘Was everything OK earlier, darling?’ she asked, placing one of her hands around my neck and playing with my hair. It made all

the little hairs on my back stand up.

‘Hmm, I don’t know . . . I’m not totally sure what’s going on with Ben and Sienna. We tried to talk about that silly comment he

made earlier.’

‘I guess it was only the sort of thing I would have said a while ago, when I was being silly.’ She rolled her eyes at the absurdity of

it all. ‘I love you, Nick Redland,’ she said, kissing me on the nose.

‘I love you too,’ I told her, so glad she was happy tonight. Maybe I would get some sleep.

It turned out quite differently. Chloe dragged me up to our hotel room and that was pretty much the end of the Christmas party and

the start of a private one. I tried to stop her – I felt rude leaving so early – but the things she was whispering in my ear were making it

very difficult for me to concentrate on anything else, so we scuttled up the stairs, giggling away. She was struggling in her heels, so

after a while I slung her over my shoulder and carried her the rest of the way in a fireman’s lift.

It was about 1 a.m. and we were just drifting off to sleep when I heard what sounded like a sob in the corridor. Then suddenly –

silence. That was strange. I lay there for a few minutes, wondering if I’d imagined it. Well, whoever it was would be gone by now . .

.

Then I heard it again. Shit, it sounded like Sienna.

I carefully moved Chloe’s slender arm from around my torso and placed it gently on the mattress. Tiptoeing to the door, I put on a

T-shirt I’d brought for the morning and pressed my ear against the wooden surface. I was still fairly drunk, but a lot more collected

than before. The sound was more distant this time, so I opened the door quietly and shuffled out. Yes, it was definitely Sienna. But

where was she?

I followed the corridor round, the red carpet scratchy against the soles of my feet. The walls were illuminated with old-fashioned

uplighters in the shape of seashells. Hideous. Despite the light, the corridor was still quite dark and my sleepy eyes were struggling

to adjust. I kept one hand on the wall, following it round by touch. There was no one else about, and the only thing breaking the

silence was the sound of distress nearby.

There was less sobbing now and more laboured breathing. Cigarette smoke was filling the air. That was naughty, I thought, as my

eyes started to sting a little. That was not like Sienna . . . God, maybe it was someone else and I was about to be forced into

comforting some complete random. I might even accidentally flash them from the inside leg of my boxers and make them even more

traumatised.

I turned one more corner and beneath the haze of thick smoke was a green puff of fabric, and somewhere underneath that was

Sienna. She was slightly illuminated by a green fire-exit light to her left.

‘Who goes there?’ she asked, a drunken lilt to her voice. She squinted through the blur, one eye closed and mascara streaked

down her cheeks. A curly strand of hair had come loose from her updo. It hung by her face, lingering around her jawline. Jesus.

I crawled on to the floor and started to shuffle along on my elbows. ‘Emergency. Emergency. I need to rescue you from this

burning inferno,’ I said with my joke robot voice on.

A white cigarette was hanging from between her fingers, the tip glowing fiercely in the dim light. Somehow, in the midst of her

turmoil, she laughed.

I dragged myself up from the floor and sat next to her. ‘Miss Walker. What on earth are you doing alone in this corridor? Where’s

your man? What’s happened?’ I pulled her legs out from beneath her dress and laid them across my lap.

‘I don’t have a man any more,’ she said, with what sounded like a lump in her throat. She took a deep drag on the cigarette and

then passed it my way.

Bugger. ‘What? What happened?’ Clearly my pep talk hadn’t helped at all.

She leaned back against the wall again, the dress pulling tight around her neck because of the angle at which she was sitting. ‘He

said that things are too hard with his life right now, and that he isn’t giving me what I need,’ she finished, taking the cigarette back

and puffing away at it. It was dangerously close to the nasty letters at the bottom. I pulled it back and threw it out of an open window

next to us. She hiccuped.

‘Holy shit, Sienna. I’m so, so sorry,’ I said, pulling her arms around my neck.

‘That’s OK. It’s not your fault,’ she responded in her lovely voice, like a modern Audrey Hepburn.

‘Well, I still love you, Panda Pop,’ I told her, running a hand through the hair near her forehead to comfort her.

She didn’t say anything, but she squeezed me a little tighter. ‘Am I ever going to find a nice man, Nick? I mean, I’m twenty-four

now, for God’s sake,’ she cried, stupidly unaware of how painfully young she was, and just how much there was to come.

‘Of course you are. You’re a wonderful girl, so I think we can do a bit better than a “nice man”. Nice is a crap word . . .’ I started.

‘It’s boring, a bit like a biscuit,’ she giggled, finishing my sentence and mocking my voice all at the same time. It was a phrase I’d

used a few times before.

‘No, seriously . . . What am I going to do?’ She looked at me blankly. It was as if she had cried so much there was nothing left but

empty questions.

‘I wish I knew the answer, Sienna. The man you will marry is walking this earth. He’s alive right now, somewhere. He could be

in Australia, backpacking with friends; he could be working in a bar in China; he could be a hotshot American lawyer; he could be a

musician; he could be going about his life in London at this very moment . . . Any day now, your paths will cross.’ She smiled when

I said this, like it brought her comfort.

‘Where’s your room?’ I went on. ‘I don’t want you lying here like this, gassing yourself in a tiny hallway. Plus this dress, it’s

bloody gorgeous, Si, and you’re going to make it smell like a sewer. Where did you get it from, anyway?’ I asked, wiping my thumb

over one of the black stains on her face. It smeared like charcoal.

She giggled again. ‘Er . . . It’s a long story. Well, actually, I was told this dress would change my life, but this wasn’t quite what I

had in mind. My room is 204, I think,’ she continued, quickly changing the subject and squinting cross-eyed at her key as she held it

in front of her face. What did she mean about the dress? I couldn’t seem to get any sense out of her right now.

‘Nick, I don’t want to go back. Can I just stay here alone? Please?’ She was being very strange. But people are strange when

they’re hurting and pissed.

‘No, absolutely not,’ I said, standing up and holding her in my arms at the same time. She was light as a feather.

With one hand she pulled the band from her hair, causing it all to tumble out as she tilted her head back in exhaustion. The long

swathes of material trailed behind us like the tail of a green dragon. It was beautiful. I wished someone could take a picture.

Thirteen

‘Don’t cal me. Ever.’

Nick

It all started with a plate. Chloe was standing there in the kitchen holding it tight when I got back from the shop. I’d only nipped

out for some cumin seeds and bread, and the next thing I knew the damn thing was hurled across the room, narrowly missing my ear

before smashing to smithereens against the wall behind me.

‘What the fuck, Chloe?’ I shouted, standing in the hallway and trembling in fury. It was terrifying. I mean a bit of rough play and