This is a Love Story (12 page)

‘He brought this for you, Si,’ said Dad, waving a CD in the air and breaking my moment of reflection. It glinted sharply in my sore eyes, reflecting the glare from the ceiling light. ‘I think he likes you. You do know that, don’t you?’ he continued, looking more serious this time.

‘What gave you that impression?’ I asked.

He paused before saying, ‘I can’t put my finger on it, darling. I just know love when I see it. Don’t be nasty to him. I heard you shouting, Sienna – that’s not good.’

I looked at him with one eyebrow raised, and felt sick with guilt.

That night I listened to the CD. Beautiful songs from a band I had never heard before. I listened to the lyrics and attempted to work out what he was trying to say to me, because I was still just too angry with him. I wanted to call him, to say sorry. But I couldn’t.

Nick

There was only one way to get through this. Beer. And copious amounts of it, too.

It was time for a board meeting, and the venue of choice this evening was the beer garden at The Grand Union in Brixton.

The lads realised it was serious. I texted Ross first, hoping he hadn’t planned an evening of staring into his wife’s eyes in the bath and feeding her spring rolls with his toes. Of course he hadn’t. He may have got married, but he was still Ross. My mate: dependable and always up for a beer. He successfully rounded up the troops and we gathered for an important discussion about how I was going to handle this situation.

To my disappointment, however, it started with a detailed analysis of just how much of an idiot I was.

‘So wait, wait. Hold on a minute,’ Ross exclaimed after a swig of his drink, commanding the attention of the assembled party like an army officer. He was definitely the ringleader of the group. A well-built man with square shoulders and a square jaw. A bit like a human Ken doll.

‘What you’re telling me is that Sienna’s dad passed out and you thought he was dead and told him that you love his daughter?’ he went on, his strong, hairy arms crossed over his chest.

‘Well, it’s not quite as simple as—’ I tried to defend myself weakly.

‘As what, Nick? ’Cause that’s how it sounds to me!’ shrieked my supposed best friend through now uncontrollable laughter, slamming his fist onto the table and spraying my face with London’s finest ale.

Wanker.

The rest of the lads bowed their heads and sniggered like schoolboys. I was becoming the evening’s entertainment. I might as well set up a podcast featuring daily updates of my romantic misdemeanours, complete with voting tool so we can decide exactly which point was my lowest. Maybe geeky Jon could map them out on charts for me, just to rub it in a bit further.

‘For fuck’s sake, you lot! You’re supposed to be helping!’ I shouted, secretly smiling to myself and throwing a peanut at Phil. He batted it away with his right arm. Those were some good reflexes. You had to hand it to them; they always made me laugh, even if it was at my own expense.

‘No, honestly boys, I need some help.’ I changed my tone so they would realise I was being serious. I hoped that now we were in our late twenties and early thirties we could discuss stuff like this. I was mistaken.

‘Do I tell her before her dad does? If he hasn’t already? Or do I hope that somehow he forgot that part?’ The questions came spilling from my mouth between drags on a Marlboro Light.

‘So what’s wrong with him again?’ said Simon, a thirty-five-year-old accountant with a penchant for fishing and smoking weed.

‘Narcolepsy or something. It means he falls asleep a lot and can’t control it,’ I answered irritably. I was getting a little bit bored of explaining this. God knows how Sienna must feel.

‘And he can hear every word you say?’ Simon probed further, like some sort of heartbreak scientist.

‘Yes, everything, apparently. The paramedic said so, Sienna said so and I Googled it too.’

‘Wow! This is a crazy situation. Shots, boys?’ said Ross, already starting to make his way to the bar, his attention returning to the small matter of getting pissed. A group of girls in the far corner pointed at him and giggled cheekily. He still had this incredible knack with women, despite being well and truly spoken for.

I shuffled uncomfortably in my seat; the humid evening air combined with my sticky predicament was making me sweat. Fake palm trees stood between the tables, fairy lights threaded through their plastic leaves. I wanted to climb into one and hide, just like I did at work once, but not in a ‘ha ha’ kind of way this time.

‘What’s the big deal about this girl anyway, Nick? This has been going on for ages and there are plenty of women registering an interest in you.’ This unhelpful input came from Richard. Richard who has never met Sienna. Richard who recently grew a handlebar moustache ‘just for a laugh’.

‘What about that fit girl who works in that recruitment office near me? Oh God, what’s her name, Dave?’ he added.

‘Sophie,’ replied Dave with a knowing smile, gesturing with his hands to emulate a curvy female shape.

‘Yeah, Sophie. She fancies the tiny, chequered pants off you, Nick, and she is smoking hot,’ Rich continued. The lads nodded in unison.

I wasn’t going to listen. If they had it their way, I’d be frolicking with strippers and writhing in pools of unsuitable women at album launch parties. They’re nearly all in serious relationships or married now and they seem to live through me, hooking me up with the various women they secretly want to do themselves.

‘Hey, Nick, look at that girl over there . . . She keeps looking at you,’ declared Simon, pointing towards a leggy blonde smoking a cigarette. She quickly swished her head in the other direction, layers of shining hair flying through the air.

Jesus, it was like Sixth Form. Men never grow up. Fact. Yeah, she was gorgeous, had legs that went on forever and probably kissed like a fallen angel, but there was only one thing I wanted. Sienna.

‘Here you go, pal, get this down your neck.’ Ross was back with a tray of shots, the neon-green liquid on the verge of spilling over the lip of the glasses.

I was drinking hideous amounts of alcohol, very quickly. Half of me thought I should stop, the other half wanted to continue, so I went with the latter. I threw it down my neck, wiping the viscous liquid from my fingers onto my jeans.

‘Look, guys. This isn’t funny. It’s getting to me. Should I get a new job? Cut her out? Leave the country?’ I was being dramatic now, but it was necessary to get their attention.

Silence descended on the group. Ross leaned back, his lumberjack shirt pulling at the middle where the buttons were. He had been working out lately and was starting to resemble a wrestler. ‘OK, how do you feel about her?’ he said, a lot more serious this time.

This was awkward for a pack of drunken men. Feelings had come to the table – real, raw feelings. My feelings. It was terrifying, but I had consumed enough alcohol to be able to spill the beans. They knew I was a soppy git now anyway, so there was no point trying to claw back my floundering reputation.

‘She’s perfection. I’ve never felt like this. I can’t imagine anything I want more than having her by my side every day. It actually scares me.’

‘Well, you need to tell her, dude – but properly tell her. As in don’t tell her comatose father, yeah?’ said Simon, pushing his glasses up his nose.

‘Ross. When you met Sarah . . . How did you know you loved her? How did you know she was . . . well, the one?’ I turned my gaze towards my best friend, hoping I could find the answers behind the thick veil of his drunken stupor.

The alpha male shuffled awkwardly and paused for a moment. He knew that I knew he was a secret ball of goo. I’d never told the lads that I walked in on him sitting in his underpants, writing a poem for his wife with Ronan Keating on in the background just a few months ago. I’ve certainly learned that I should knock from now on . . . It had remained a secret between us, and it was my greatest weapon when his piss-taking reached annoying levels. A simple pen movement with my right hand was enough to shut him up.

‘Well, er . . . I just knew, I guess,’ he responded quietly, running his index finger around the top of his pint.

‘What do you mean, just knew?’ asked Simon. He was clearly fascinated by this too.

‘I just felt like everything was right with her, and the thought of being without her made me feel totally lost,’ he finished, opening out his hands on the wooden table. ‘It’s just a gut feeling, you can’t really explain it.’ His big bear-like features softened and he smiled from ear to ear.

‘Well, that’s how I feel about Sienna,’ I said bluntly. ‘But then again, the fact that she kept that secret from me for so long is a bad sign. She can’t feel the same, there’s just no way. Then I face the humiliation of my office and the loss of a great friendship . . .’

‘Friendship, my arse,’ Ross blurted out. ‘Guys and girls are never just friends, not like you two are anyway. There’s always one person who wants to jump the other one,’ he continued, like some kind of love guru in a pub garden, dishing out advice and cigarettes to his crowd of desperate disciples.

Even men who weren’t drinking with us were perking up their ears and leaning in our direction. One scruffy-looking lad had given up pretending to be polite and perched himself on the end of the table. He can’t have been much older than nineteen.

A bad feeling washed over me and it wasn’t just alcohol-induced nausea. I felt that I needed to get real and get over this. I, Nick Redland, was turning into a pathetic individual and I didn’t like it. My friends were laughing at me. Instead of making me want to run out of the pub, bribe a taxi driver and rush to Sienna’s house to declare my undying love for her, I wanted to be as far away from her as possible.

The heavy beat of house music disturbed my thoughts and Ross rose to his feet, waving his beer in the air like an Olympic torch. ‘This is a tune, lads! Remember this one from Ibiza?’ he shouted, wiggling his hips to the track. It was tragic. So tragic I had to join in.

Next thing I knew we were all at it, as if my love life was so impossible to solve that the only thing to do was dance it out. Badly. We were men. This came more naturally to us than talking about how we felt.

The rest of the night was a haze; a haze which definitely involved more beer, shots, and added beer on top of that. For the first time in ages I forgot about Sienna and just danced my troubles away.

When it was my turn to get the next round, I stumbled up to the bar with a half pint in my hands, knocking into a girl by accident. She turned around to give me a telling-off.

‘Shit. I’m sorry, I’m an idiot. Bollocks, did I throw my drink over your dress?’

She peered down at her ensemble. It involved strips of unusual materials that looked as if separately they had been languishing miserable and lonely in a charity shop somewhere, yet when stitched together formed the most beautifully flattering dress. From her left shoulder a frog brooch stared at me. This is definitely what people talk about when they refer to girls dressing for other girls rather than for men, who are as perplexed as I am by the result. The mad dress, combined with her long, tumbling, messed-up hazelnut hair, gave her that affected arty air so many London girls have. Still. She was quite attractive. Either that or I was quite drunk. I prayed I didn’t face a £500 bill for the frock that was probably made by starving children in some developing country. I would really resent that.

She softened. ‘No, you’re safe. You could buy me a drink to say sorry?’

Cheeky minx. ‘Yes, of course. What would you like?’

‘A single spiced rum and Coke, please. What’s your name?’

‘Nick,’ I replied, noticing a delicate horseshoe necklace falling over her collarbone. It was very sexy.

She smiled at me, and it made my heart race. Suddenly I felt nothing but lust; it took over my whole body and almost rendered me incapable of speech. It rushed through my veins like a train.

‘I’m Kate, nice to meet you.’ She held out a hand, which I shook weakly, instantly regretting it. Her perfume was unusual; rich, mysterious and spicy. It made me want to get closer to her. Her nails were painted black; she had that high-maintenance yet totally distressed cool about her.

It struck me how long it had been since I had actually opened my eyes to the world. How long it had been since I was just, well, a happy-go-lucky bloke. There were plenty of attractive, lovely women out there. Maybe I was just limiting myself with my tunnel vision.

Ross waved at me behind Kate’s shoulder and stuck his thumbs in the air. I ignored him.

It was a noisy walk to the bus stop, clattering heels and laughter. We stumbled arm in arm through the streets and clambered onto a night bus, kissing like teenagers at every available opportunity. We shared a portion of chips, doused in salt and vinegar.

My head was spinning as the double-decker negotiated the streets of London, heading west to my bachelor pad. It never really crossed my mind that she was coming with me – but it never really crossed my mind that she wouldn’t, either. She definitely wasn’t getting off the bus, that was for sure.

Just before our stop, she held me back against the seat by my chest and pushed her lips on to my mouth, biting my bottom lip gently. I felt light-headed, kissing her back despite the audience we had.

The last thing I remember was Kate’s clothes being flung all over my house. Just like in the films, shoes, lingerie and her figure-hugging dress were littered across the hallway and stairs like a trail of incriminating evidence. I recall running my hands over her naked body in my bed, being kissed passionately by a stranger. We were twisted in the sheets, tangled legs and arms. Her hair smelled good, every curve of her body was perfection. She was beautiful.

I woke up in the morning and rolled over. I felt empty inside.

Four

‘Does it feel wrong?’

Sienna

‘So why do they call you Dancing Pete?’ I’d finally plucked up the courage to ask him.

It was cold. Really bloody cold. And I was back here again in the car park at work. Maybe I was a glutton for punishment, but the memory of his rage had long faded and what I saw was the person behind all that, and I thought he was worth getting to know.