What Might Have Been (15 page)

26

E
van gazed out through the café’s window, marvelling at the view across the Thames as he sipped his third espresso, though as yet, the coffee didn’t seem to be having any effect on the jet lag he was still struggling to shake off.

He checked his watch, noticing both that Sarah was late and that his hands were shaking, and while that may have been down to the caffeine fighting for dominance with the alcohol still in his system from the previous evening, he still felt as jumpy as a teenager on a first date.

Not that he could recall his first date, though he remembered the first girl who’d rejected him – Julie Cowan – back when he was an awkward eleven-year-old, and before he’d discovered the musical ability that had made him suddenly visible to the opposite sex. He’d worshipped her from afar at school – though she probably hadn’t had the faintest idea who he was – and when he’d eventually plucked up the courage to call her from the phone box at the end of his street and ask her out, all she’d done was laugh down the line at him, so Evan had put the phone down and begun the walk home in shame. It was only when he’d got halfway down the road that it had occurred to him he might have accepted her ‘no’ prematurely, so he’d turned and sprinted back to the phone box, where – with a sudden burst of misplaced confidence and his last ten pence piece – he’d rung her back and told her that if she changed her mind, she should give him a call. Then – as now – he’d sat waiting for something that, as time had dragged on, had seemed more and more unlikely to come.

He still felt embarrassed at the memory. Even now, he could remember the sniggering as he’d walked, shame-faced, into school the next day, past where Julie had been standing, pointing at him while whispering to her friends. Though while this time he didn’t mind embarrassing himself, he worried he might not even get the chance to – Sarah could simply be planning to turn up, tell him to leave her alone, then go. But Evan hoped he’d read her better than that, and that she’d at least be interested in hearing what he had to say. Surely he could stretch that out over a drink – especially since it might be the last drink they ever had together.

For the hundredth time, he glanced down towards where the Millennium Bridge – or the wobbly bridge, as everyone still referred to it, given how its lack of stability when first built had made crossing it feel like, well, like Evan had felt the first time he’d seen Sarah – met the South Bank, to see whether he could see her among the lunchtime crowds, and spotted her hurrying towards the gallery’s entrance. His heart began to hammer, so he pulled the adjacent vacant chair he’d been guarding for the last twenty minutes closer, took a moment to calm himself, then subtly checked his breath in his cupped hand. Not that he thought there’d be any kissing, but you never knew – he’d even tidied his flat and put clean sheets on the bed, although he reckoned the likelihood of anything like
that
happening was pretty small. Still, be prepared, and all that. Sarah could surprise you. Evan knew that to his cost.

A
ping
announced the lift’s arrival, and as the doors opened, she fought her way through a group of Japanese tourists. As she slipped off her coat, he fixed a smile and stood up, enjoying the sight of her walking towards him.

‘Thanks for coming.’

Sarah looked at him levelly. ‘Did I have any choice?’

‘I suppose not,’ he said, noticing her blouse was undone an extra button, trying – and failing – not to stare at her cleavage. He didn’t feel confident enough to chance his luck with any physical contact, so instead, just nodded towards the chair. ‘Sit. Please. Can I get you anything?’

Sarah hesitated, as if considering whether accepting either a
seat or
a drink would be starting out offering too many conces
sions, the
n she draped her coat over the back of the chair and sat down.

‘Just a sparkling water, please. Ice, no lemon.’

‘Heavy night last night?’ he said, almost unthinkingly, and Sarah scowled at him.

‘Heavier than I wanted, yes.’

Evan winced, then walked across to the bar and ordered Sarah’s water, repeating the order twice to the girl behind the counter, then checking again once she’d poured it, as if everything hinged on getting her drink right. He carried it carefully back over to their seats, and sat down nervously.

‘Here.’

‘Thanks.’ Sarah stared at her glass for a moment, then pushed it away. ‘What did you think you were doing?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Last night.’

‘Oh. That.’

‘Yes, Evan.
That
.’

‘Like I said, I was only planning to drop off a note.’

‘Yes, but . . .’ Sarah shook her head. ‘
David
.’

‘What about him?’

‘You went on his
stag night
,’ she said, incredulously.

Evan held his hands up. ‘I was caught off guard when I bumped into you. And I certainly didn’t think he’d invite me to his, well . . .’ He almost laughed. The situation had been pretty ridiculous.

‘You didn’t have to go, you know?’

Evan wondered whether Sarah meant a year ago, then understood she was referring to David’s stag. ‘Yes, I did,’ he said, before realising, ironically, that the same answer was true a year ago too.

‘You could have just said no.’

Evan bit his tongue, then decided
What the hell
. ‘So could you, Sarah.’

‘How, Evan? How exactly could I have said no? And more importantly, why should I have? Especially since you’d decided you weren’t going to hang around.’

He stared at her, open-mouthed. Had she forgotten the actual sequence of events? ‘How the hell could you have got engaged to someone you . . .’

‘Cheated on?’

‘Yes.’

‘Because he asked me, Evan. He had the balls to step up to the plate and ask me. Whereas you were quite happy to sleep with me and then never call . . .’ She stopped talking, suddenly conscious of how loud she was being.

‘I didn’t even think I was in the frame.’

‘In the frame?’ said Sarah indignantly. ‘What did you think? That I slept with every man I knew?’

‘Of course not.’ He shifted round on his stool and stared out of the window. ‘I thought we were having a good time. Had potential, even. And then you announced that you were seeing someone else. What was I supposed to have done?’

‘I don’t know.’ Sarah threw her hands in the air theatrically. ‘Not leave? Or at least keep in touch? Or . . .’

‘Or?’

‘Fight for me?’

Evan turned back to face her. ‘That’s what I’m doing now,’ he said, softly.

‘With my wedding a week away?’ She was staring at him in disbelief. ‘Did you not think it might be a little bit late?’

‘You tell me.’ Evan met her gaze. ‘Is it?’

And there it was. The hesitation Evan had been hoping for. A sign that perhaps all wasn’t well between her and David.

‘I’ve made him a promise.’

‘And you hadn’t before? When we . . .’ He hunted for the right word, but couldn’t find it.

‘Christ, Evan,’ she said, the steeliness back. ‘I’d only just met him. It wasn’t like we were having some major romance.’

‘But you are now?’

She held up her left hand, and for a moment Evan wondered why she seemed to be giving him the finger, until he realised she was showing him her engagement ring. ‘What do you think?’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘David. He’s . . .’ He puffed air out of his cheeks, trying to
compose
his thoughts, remembering he didn’t want to make this about David. ‘Nothing.’

Sarah sighed loudly. ‘What am I doing here, Evan? Or rather, what are
we
doing here?’

‘Okay.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Here it comes.’ He sat up straight, then fiddled with his coffee cup. ‘Right.’

‘Evan . . .’

‘Sorry.’ He cleared his throat awkwardly. ‘Say you’d made a mistake, or made the wrong choice, and you had the slimmest of chances, the smallest window of opportunity, to go back and try and correct that, what would you do? Just go “Oh well” and ignore it, and let it fester for the rest of your life, always wondering what might have been? Or at least investigate the possibility that there might be a chance that you could, you know . . .’ He cleared his throat again. ‘Put it right.’

‘Evan, I’m . . .’

‘Don’t say “flattered”, please.’

‘No – “sorry”. Really I am. But I’m getting married to David. On Saturday.’

Evan felt something shrivel up inside. ‘Are you?’

‘Of course. What did you think – that you could just ride in here like some knight in shining armour and whisk me away? I don’t need rescuing.’

‘Will you at least think about it?’

‘Think about what?’ Sarah was getting angry again. ‘Calling off something I’ve been planning for the best part of nine months and disappointing someone who loves me simply because you’ve suddenly decided you might have made a mistake a year ago and so you’ve popped back over the pond to see if there’s any chance that we could hook up again?’

‘It’s not like that,’ he said, realising it was, actually, like that.

‘What
is
it like, then? What are you offering me, exactly?’

‘Offering?’

‘Yes. Are
we
going to get married? Elope? Or did you just want us to pick up where we let off, but this time with David out of the picture?’

‘Well . . .’ Evan stopped talking. He hadn’t expected such a direct question. What
did
he want? Just Sarah, really. Beyond that, he hadn’t really thought. Although he was beginning to wish he had.

‘You see, that’s your problem,’ Sarah said, exasperatedly, as if she’d read his mind. ‘You don’t know what it is you want.’ She moved to get off her stool, but Evan put a hand on her arm.

‘Don’t go,’ he said. ‘Not like this.’

‘Evan, you’re . . .’ She looked upset, and Evan worried she might start crying. ‘You’re confusing things. And I can’t afford to be confused. Not now.’

‘Tell me there’s not a part of you that doesn’t feel something for me.’

She shrugged his hand off. ‘Of course there is. But that doesn’t mean there’s not another part of me that feels more for David.’

‘Maybe you wouldn’t, if you knew . . .’

‘Knew what?’

Evan was aware that this was his chance to land what could well be the killer blow, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to tell her about David’s indiscretion. Instead, he took her hand. ‘That I love you.’

‘What?’

‘I love you,’ he repeated, surprised how easily the words came out, how natural they sounded. ‘That’s why I came back. To tell you that.’

Sarah pulled her hand away, almost in tears now. ‘How can you? We just . . .’ She shook her head. ‘It was only one night.’

‘The best night of my life.’

‘Christ, Evan. Your timing . . .’

‘Next week would have been worse,’ he said, attempting to lighten the mood, but judging by her expression, Sarah didn’t find it in the least bit funny.

‘I have to go,’ she said, standing up abruptly.

‘Don’t. Please.’

‘Give me one good reason not to.’

‘Haven’t I already?’

‘Evan . . .’

‘Okay. Well, you haven’t finished your drink,’ he said,
desperately
.

‘My drink?’ Sarah picked her glass up, then to his surprise, emptied it over his head. ‘Happy now?’

‘What was that for?’

‘For running out on me.’ She grabbed her coat from the back of her chair and started towards the lift. ‘And then, for coming back.’

Evan slicked his wet hair back off his face, causing an ice cube to slip down the inside of his shirt collar. ‘But don’t you understand?’ he said, leaping off his chair to follow her. ‘I came back for you.’

‘No you didn’t.’ Sarah strode angrily into the waiting lift and wheeled round to face him, her expression warning him not to
follow
. ‘You came back for
you
.’

‘Sarah, wait,’ he pleaded, as she stabbed the ‘down’ button repeatedly. ‘Both those things are related.’

‘How can they be?’

‘Because I came back for
us
,’ he shouted, as the lift doors closed.

Though if Sarah had heard him – or even cared – it was
impossible
to tell.

27

S
arah dug her nails into her palm as the elevator descended, struggling to hold herself together. She didn’t want to cry in front of the group of French students who’d got on at the next level and were now crammed in around her, jabbering excitedly to each other, but something about Evan’s out-of-the-blue declaration had unsettled her.

She fished in her coat pocket for a Kleenex to stifle the tears she knew were coming, though she feared the couple left in the packet might not be enough. With Evan out of the picture, she’d managed to convince herself that accepting David’s proposal made sense, but now, with him back . . . well, she couldn’t help wondering whether she was doing the right thing.

She wasn’t surprised to find she still had feelings for him – that kind of thing didn’t just switch off – but after a year of no contact, she was shocked how strong the physical attraction still was. The one night they’d spent together had been so exciting – they’d almost instinctively known what would turn the other on – whereas sometimes, sex with David . . . She’d joked to Grace once that at times it was like a transatlantic flight: you prayed for sleep in the middle, and that you’d wake up and it’d be over. Once or twice, on the less-frequent occasions she and David made love nowadays – he was often too tired from work, or too drunk after yet another late-night client-entertaining session at those bars and clubs he and the other male partners loved to visit – she’d found herself fantasising about Evan. The way he’d touched her. How he’d made her feel. And the response that that never failed to provoke had, ironically, always put a smile on David’s face.

The elevator doors opened, and she hurried out through the gallery’s foyer and into the fresh air, hoping Evan hadn’t followed her, determined to put some distance between them, although she realised that was perhaps a little futile – the Atlantic ocean evidently hadn’t been enough. The impulse to kiss him had been strong – almost stronger than the anger she felt towards him for loving and leaving her like he did – and she wasn’t sure she could resist it again. Maybe she should have poured the glass of cold water over herself.

She strode along the South Bank, her head still reeling, wondering what she would have done if Evan
had
decided not to go. It would have been a difficult call – from the off, she’d known David could offer her security, marriage, kids, the whole nine yards, whereas a life with Evan would have meant what, exactly – living from gig to gig? Though that was unfair. Evan made a decent living from what he did – a lot more than most musicians – plus his recent tour must have paid him well, and besides, the money had never been a factor. But David had asked her first, and sometimes, asking first
did
make a difference.

She glanced tentatively back over her shoulder as she turned into her street, but Evan was nowhere to be seen, so she slowed her pace as she neared her building, replaying what had just happened in her head. It was almost comical, what she’d just done. Melodramatic. Not like her at all. But then again, Evan’s announcement hadn’t been like anything she’d ever experienced either.

With a sigh, she rode the elevator up to her floor and unlocked her front door, then stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of David dozing on her couch. Grace must have let him in before leaving for work, and even though he’d have no way of knowing where she’d been, Sarah was sure it was written all over her face. Her first thought was to sneak back out without disturbing him to give her time to concoct an alibi, but as she reached for the door handle, he jolted awake. Fortunately, by the look of things, he didn’t seem particularly with it.

‘Afternoon,’ she said, as cheerily as she could.

‘Is it?’

She walked over to where he lay, his loafer-clad feet protruding over the armrest, and kissed him tenderly on the forehead. ‘How are you feeling?’

David attempted to sit up, then evidently thought better of it. ‘Like someone’s used my head as a rugger ball. You?’

‘Fine. You know me – a couple of Advil, and I’m okay. Just thought I’d go for a walk along the Thames. Get some fresh air.’

‘So Grace said.’

Sarah made a mental note to thank her. ‘You should try it.’

He groaned. ‘Fresh air’s the last thing I need. A Bloody Mary and a full English, however . . .’

Sarah grimaced at the thought of both of those things. ‘Did you walk round here?’ she asked, remembering his car was parked outside, although on reflection, she knew the answer to that already.

‘Yah, right.’ He smirked. ‘So how did it go?’

‘It?’

‘Last night.’

Sarah nodded. ‘Good. Fun, in fact.’

‘Were you surprised when he turned up?’

Sarah froze in the middle of shrugging her coat off, as if playing a game of musical statues and the music had just stopped. ‘When who turned up?’ she said, glad she had her back to him.

‘The stripper. Emma let slip she was getting you one. Asked my permission first, of course.’

Sarah gave him a look. ‘I didn’t know your permission was required.’

‘So were you? Surprised?’

‘A little,’ said Sarah, sitting down in the armchair opposite. ‘But I didn’t let him, you know . . .’ She flushed slightly at the thought of Evan taking his clothes off. ‘Strip.’

David widened his eyes, the effort obviously causing him some distress. ‘Why ever not? I thought you’d be desperate to see another man naked. After all, it’s only been me for the last year. Though I suppose when you’ve been used to steak at home . . .’

He grinned, and for a moment Sarah toyed with the idea of reminding him the rest of that quote was something about everyone fancying a hamburger once in a while.

‘And how was your evening?’

‘Expensive.’

‘Where did you end up?’

David reached up to massage his temples. ‘Some place that Hans knew.’

‘I bet.’ Sarah knew better than to ask what kind of place,
particularly
given the nickname of ‘Wandering Hans’ that the younger PAs in the office had given him. Trouble was, she did want to ask about Evan, but aside from mentioning him by name, she couldn’t think of a way to bring the subject up. ‘So,’ she said, eventually. ‘Did everyone have a good time?’

David shrugged, wincing with the effort. ‘I’d say so, judging by the size of the bar bill. Although I’m not sure about your friend.’

‘My friend?’

‘Evan.’ He peered at her. ‘Tell me something.’

Sarah braced herself. ‘Uh-huh?’

‘Does he bat for the other side?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Is he, you know,
gay
?’

Sarah had to concentrate hard to stop herself from laughing. ‘I don’t think so, no. Why ever would you think that?’

‘At the club. All the chaps were enjoying themselves with the girls, but he seemed . . .’ David shrugged again. ‘Offended by the whole thing. In fact, I think he might have left. Certainly didn’t say goodbye.’

Sarah stared at him, strangely pleased to hear that. ‘Maybe he was just tired,’ she said, after a moment. ‘He said he was jet lagged.’

‘Ah. Of course.’

‘And what about you, David?’ she tried to ask levelly, but couldn’t keep the suspicion out of her voice. ‘Did you “enjoy yourself” at the club?’

‘Sorry, sweetheart.’ He yawned, then rolled onto his side and buried his face in a cushion. ‘But you know how it is. What goes on tour stays on tour, and all that.’

If only
, Sarah thought, half-wishing Evan had stayed on his. ‘Fine. I won’t ask,’ she said, making her way into the kitchen.

She carried the kettle over to the sink and turned on the tap, then had to lean heavily against the counter. She’d realised what it had been, why she’d never allowed herself to consider a future with Evan, and it had almost knocked the wind out of her. It was obvious, now she thought about it: the one thing he hadn’t done, the only thing she’d wanted him to, was simply to ask her.

Exactly like he appeared to be doing now.