What Might Have Been (26 page)

45

S
arah picked at her bowl of edamame beans as she watched David help himself to plate after plate from the conveyor belt rotating slowly in front of them, amazed at his capacity for food, which seemed to be exceeded only by his capacity for drink. In recent months, he’d developed a liking for cigars, too, and she often wondered just when he’d have his first heart attack. Maybe on Saturday, she thought, if Evan turned up unannounced. Still, at least Evan wouldn’t be surprising them
here
, she thought, given his aversion to the raw fish David was currently consuming at a rate that would make Greenpeace worry for the ocean’s tuna stocks.

‘So,’ he said, in between mouthfuls and the regular glances at his Blackberry that Sarah was trying not to let annoy her. ‘Are we all ready?’

She breathed a silent sigh of relief. David’s lunch invitation seemed to be to discuss the wedding, and assuming he was talking about the arrangements, she nodded. The ceremony was going to be an intimate one: just the two of them plus a handful of close family and friends at Chelsea registry office, followed by dinner at Bluebird afterwards for the fifty or so guests. ‘I guess,’ she said – aside from turning up, she didn’t have that much to do. ‘I’ve got my final dress fitting later, and . . .’

‘Hence the reason that’s all you’re eating?’ David indicated the tiny pile of dishes in front of her.

‘Something like that.’ In truth, she’d lost enough weight these past few days to make her worry that her dress might even have to be taken in a little, though she suspected it was more to do with the stress of seeing Evan again than any change in her dietary regime. ‘And you’re still not telling me where we’re going on honeymoon?’

‘No.’

David was whisking her off somewhere – a surprise,
apparently
– but just for a week. End of quarter was approaching, and she knew she’d been lucky to get him to agree to even a few days’
holiday
when the bank’s financial results were due to be announced.

‘Well, how will I know what to pack?’

‘You’ll just have to be prepared for all eventualities.’

‘That’s hardly practical.’

‘I’m sure you’ll manage, sweetheart. Anyway . . .’ David scooped up another piece of California roll and popped it into his mouth, chewing noisily while he spoke, a habit of his Sarah had always found surprising, given his upbringing. ‘You won’t need many clothes.’

She did a double-take, then realised he probably meant they were going somewhere hot, rather than the fact that they’d hardly be leaving their hotel room. Even so, she found herself blushing – the thought of sex reminded her of the previous evening’s events. ‘And you’re sure you still want to do it?’ she found herself saying.

‘Do what?’

‘Marry me. After, you know, what happened.’

David’s hand hovered over his plate. ‘Not this whole “losing the baby” thing again?’

Sarah nodded, trying to ignore the sudden burning in her throat. Even though David had seen how upset she’d been when she’d miscarried, he was bound to read something deeper into any tears so close to the wedding. ‘It’s just that I can’t help feeling you kind of proposed under false pretences.’ She forced a smile. ‘So if you wanted to, you know, back out of it, it’d be okay.’

David put down his chopsticks, then reached over and took her hand. ‘What’s brought this on? You’re not feeling guilty, are you?’

‘What?’

‘I’ve told you a thousand times. It wasn’t your fault.’

She relaxed slightly, glad he was still referring to the baby. ‘Yes, but be honest. Would you really have proposed otherwise? If I hadn’t been pregnant?’

‘Like I said, of course!’ said David, indignantly. ‘How else was I going to fight off the competition?’

Sarah couldn’t meet his eyes, although surely he’d meant everyone else and not specifically Evan – after all, if he had known about the two of them, even he wouldn’t have referred to it that casually. She pushed her plate away and took a sip of water.

‘Okay, then. Why?’

‘Why what?’

‘Why do you want to marry me?’

David frowned at her, having evidently forgotten their recent conversation. ‘Pardon?’

‘You didn’t really answer me the other day.’

He resumed chewing thoughtfully. ‘Why wouldn’t I? Look
at you.’

Sarah knew he’d meant it as a compliment, but couldn’t help feeling objectified at the same time. ‘So it’s just for my looks? So I can be the ornamental wife on your arm?’

‘Well, no.’ David shifted uneasily in his seat, aware he was getting into argument territory, but clueless as to why. ‘Of course not.’

‘What else, then?’

He stared back at her. ‘You’re serious?’

‘Yes, David.’

‘Well . . .’ He reached for his bottle of Asahi, then, annoyed to see it was empty, clicked his fingers impatiently at the waitress for another. ‘There’s the
love
thing, obviously.’

‘I should hope so,’ said Sarah, tersely. ‘What else?’

‘It’s not that easy to put into words.’

‘Try.’

‘You’re being silly.’

‘No I’m not. Come on, convince me you didn’t just get down on one knee out of some misplaced sense of duty.’

‘Bloody cheek! Of course I didn’t. And in any case, what would have been misplaced about it?’

Fuck
, thought Sarah.
Why did I say that?
David was getting angry now – no, she corrected herself – not angry. Haughty. Almost as if she should be grateful he’d asked her to marry him – and not just under the circumstances. ‘I’m sorry, David. I . . .’

‘In fact, yes, you’re right. I did think I was doing the decent thing, now you come to mention it, but excuse me if it upset your precious American sensibilities. And speaking of which, if you’d have been a bit more sensible back then, maybe you wouldn’t be feeling like this.’

‘Fuck you, David!’

‘No, Sarah,’ he said, softly but firmly. He climbed down from his chair, pulled his wallet from his jacket pocket, and threw a handful of notes down onto the counter. ‘Fuck you!’

‘David . . .’

He opened his mouth as if to say something, then evidently changed his mind, and instead, marched briskly out of the
restaurant
. Sarah watched him go, angry at his reaction, but more annoyed with herself for provoking such a stupid fight so close to the wedding. What had she been expecting – that he’d take what she said as some sort of get-out-of-jail-free card, call
the whol
e thing off, and make both their lives a hell of a lot easier
just
like that
?

For a moment she considered following him, knowing she’d have to apologise and wanting to get it over with, but experience told her David would need some time to calm down, like a washing machine that had finished spinning – you still had to wait a while before it was safe to open the door. And while she was sure she’d be able to excuse her behaviour as just pre-wedding stress, it didn’t help that the fundamental cause of that stress was still very much in her thoughts.

She wondered again what Evan would have done under similar circumstances. Would he have gotten down on one knee as nobly as David had? It was hard to say. From the off, she’d known David wanted to settle down, have children, the whole nine yards – he was that type – but beyond Evan’s desire to have fun, she didn’t know what type he was. She couldn’t possibly know how he’d have reacted, and anyway, like he’d reminded her the other day, she
certainly
hadn’t given him the chance. She knew so little about him, and she’d felt so much for him, yet she wondered whether there was anything she didn’t know about David. He’d been so precise, so
specific
from the day they’d first met that she felt almost able to write an instruction manual to pass on to future girlfriends if the two of them didn’t work out. Whereas Evan? She already knew that working things out as they went along would have been fun. And at that precise moment, Sarah realised just how much she missed that.

She paid the bill and headed back to work, toying with the idea that maybe she could marry David – assuming he was still speaking to her after her strop at lunch – while continuing to see Evan. Perhaps they could just pick up where they’d left off. But Sarah knew – despite recent events – that she wasn’t that kind of woman; the guilt she’d felt having slept with Evan back then had been pretty hard to get past, despite her conviction that it had been acceptable under her ‘dating’ definition, and now, given her indiscretion last night, she feared she’d gone and messed it all up again. Though maybe she
could
still go through with Saturday after what had just happened. She’d feel guilty for a while, sure, but she could live with herself. Though after the intensity of the previous night, she wasn’t sure she could live with David.

She walked into her office and closed the door behind her, wondering how it had come to this, just days before she was due to get married. Could she really cancel the wedding at this late stage, and even if she did, what would happen at work? She couldn’t remain in the same department as David if she did, and he certainly wasn’t going to leave. Besides, this was the City; it was tough enough for a woman as it was, let alone one who might be considered to have a ‘reputation’. And in any case, David had done nothing to deserve being made a laughing-stock in the office.

At least leaving would be quick. She’d seen it happen to enough of her colleagues in recent months. They’d probably pack her off the same day, escorting her from the premises with her possessions in a cardboard box . . . She swallowed hard, wondering whether she’d be leaving David in the same way, then sat heavily back down at her desk to spend a few minutes with Google trying to work out how that would affect her being here, in England, but she soon realised her situation was hopeless. Without work sponsorship, or being married to a Brit, her visa wouldn’t permit her to stay – and was she prepared to give up everything she’d worked for just because a ghost from her past had suddenly reappeared?

She put her head in her hands, trying to fight the tears that were building up inside her, and eventually just gave in to them. And Sarah was still crying when a knock on her door made
her jum
p.

‘Everything alright in there?’

At the sound of Sally’s voice, Sarah quickly considered her options. The last thing she wanted was for Sally to feed the fact she was upset back to David, and no doubt spread the information like wildfire around the building. But what was the alternative – hide in her office until she left? She sniffed loudly, then dabbed at her eyes with the back of her hand.

‘Come on in.’

Sally cracked the door open and poked her head tentatively through the gap. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine, Sally. Thank you. Just feeling a little . . .’

‘Emotional?’

Sarah caught sight of her red-eyed reflection in her computer screen. ‘Emotional. That’s it.’

‘Do you want to talk about it? David kind of stormed back in after lunch, and now . . .’

Sarah shook her head, and tried to ignore the look of disappointment on Sally’s face. ‘No I’m okay. Really. Just a lot going on, what with Saturday, and all that. We had a stupid little fight.
That’s al
l.’

Sally edged a little further into the room, clearly not ready to be dismissed yet. ‘I understand.’

Sarah almost laughed. She wasn’t sure she understood herself. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘And Sally?’

‘Yes?’

‘Can you keep this our little secret?’

Sally beamed at her, and Sarah knew she’d said the right thing. If there was one thing that Sally loved more than a gossip with the other women, it was being taken into confidence by someone more senior.

‘Of course,’ she said, then she walked over to where Sarah was sitting, and after a moment’s consideration, possibly wondering if she was overstepping some sort of boundary, gave Sarah’s arm a squeeze. ‘And if you do want to talk about anything, well, you know where I am.’

‘Sure,’ said Sarah, as Sally left. ‘Thanks.’ Though the trouble was, she didn’t know where
she
was.

She double-checked her door was shut, then picked her mobile up and dialled Grace’s number, but when her friend answered, Sarah cried so hard she feared she’d never stop.

46

E
van knew he could never tell David he and Sarah had slept together, and seeing as he’d failed to get through to Sarah, he’d decided he’d do the next best thing, which was why he was sitting on the wall opposite Guy’s Hospital, waiting for Grace to appear. He’d already phoned reception and checked that she was on the early shift, which by his calculations should have finished half an hour ago, but as yet, there had been no sign of her. Still, he had nowhere else to be, or rather, no clue what else to do.

A flash of light reflecting off the revolving door caught his eye, and he looked up in time to see Grace emerging from the building. She looked tired, and Evan marvelled at the job she did. Hers was a worthy profession, unlike simply moving other people’s money around and creaming off the profits – or, perhaps, blowing into a shiny metal tube.

He jumped off the wall and called out her name, and she paused halfway down the steps, then put her head down and started walking quickly along St. Thomas Street. With a sigh, he jogged across the street and caught her up.

‘I don’t have time for this, Evan.’

‘Five minutes?’

‘No.’

‘Four, then.’

‘I can’t. I’m . . .’

‘What?’

Grace stopped, then swivelled round to face him. ‘Meeting Sarah, actually.’

‘Great.’ Evan tried to look cheerful. ‘I’ll tag along, then, if you don’t mind?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘It was a joke, Grace.’

She glared at him, then resumed walking. ‘Well, it wasn’t funny. In fact, there’s nothing at all funny about this whole mess. I don’t know what I was thinking . . .’

He hurried after her. ‘What
you
were thinking?’

‘Sarah didn’t know she was going to the club last night, Evan. I tricked her into coming with me.’

‘What? But . . .’ Evan’s heart suddenly sank. It had been
Grace’s
idea. But whether that changed things, he couldn’t work out. ‘Why?’

‘I thought I owed you that, after . . . well, it doesn’t matter now. But it turned out to be a mistake.’

‘Why a mistake?’

‘Because I don’t know what you said to her, but she phoned me earlier in floods of tears, and I couldn’t get a word of sense out of her. And I certainly don’t appreciate being stuck in the middle of your . . .’ Grace struggled for the appropriate word, and Evan didn’t think he was in a position to help her. He had a hard enough time defining it himself.

‘I’m sorry, Grace. Really I am,’ he said, conscious he was
following
her along the pavement like a charity canvasser. ‘But what would you do if you were in my situation?’

‘I wouldn’t be in your situation, Evan. I’d have too much sense for that. Too much respect. Self, and for other people.’

‘So I’m supposed to just let her go? When I know she’s making a mistake?’

Grace stopped abruptly, almost causing Evan to bump into her. ‘How do you know, exactly?’

‘Because I know Sarah.’

‘Do you? You didn’t seem to know she was seeing David when you had this . . . fling of yours. Factor in that you haven’t seen her for a year, and then when you do come back, all you do is upset her. I wouldn’t say they were the actions of someone who really knew a person, would you?’

Evan waited until he was sure Grace had finished. ‘Knowing someone isn’t just knowing what they’re going to do. Sometimes it’s not even that. It’s knowing what they’re like. What they like. Fundamentally. The essence of them. And Sarah . . . She’s not David’s wife.’

‘She will be soon.’

‘Come on, Grace.’ Evan looked at her pleadingly. ‘You’re her best friend. Can you honestly tell me she’s making the right decision?’

‘No. But then I can’t tell you that she’s making the wrong one. No-one can.’

‘I can,’ said Evan, firmly.

‘How?’

‘Because I’m the only one who can love her like she deserves to be loved.’

Grace started walking again, but a little slower, and Evan noticed she’d made space for him on the pavement. He fell into step beside her, grateful for the lull in hostilities.

‘That’s . . .’ She sighed, and shook her head. ‘Very romantic, Evan. But this is the real world we’re talking about.’

‘Which is what makes it all the more important.’ He put a hand on her arm. ‘Do
you
think she’s happy?’

‘I think she’s made a decision, a choice, which will give her a chance at happiness. And you coming back for her . . . It was a mistake.’

Evan sighed. ‘The only mistake I made was leaving. Not fighting for her at the time.’

Grace stopped at the corner of the street. ‘Why didn’t you?’

He shrugged. ‘Because she told me I’d be wasting my time. And now I know why.’

‘Because of David.’

‘No, Grace. Because of
me
.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘She thought she was doing me a favour. Giving me the OK to go on tour.’

‘Whoever gave you that idea?’

‘She did.’

‘Evan, whatever you’ve chosen to read into what’s happened, or what you think she’s said, you need to realise one thing. Sarah knows what she wants. And it isn’t you.’

‘It is, Grace. Only she’s too scared to admit it.’

‘That’s rubbish.’

‘Is it? Not judging by what happened between us last night.’

‘Why?’ Grace was staring at him accusingly. ‘What happened, exactly?’

‘You’d better ask her that question. Then ask yourself whether they were the actions of someone who’s doing the right thing in getting married to someone else on Saturday.’

With that, Evan spun on his heel, and headed back down the street. And as he walked, he didn’t need to look round to know Grace was still staring at him.

He made his way round the corner and began the short walk home, then – checking up and down the street for muggers first – pulled his wallet out of his pocket and removed the scrap of paper he’d cut out of the
New York Times
, the scrap of paper that had been responsible for all of this. The fact that he’d stumbled across David and Sarah’s wedding announcement in a discarded newspaper backstage at – well, he couldn’t remember which of the various concert venues of North America it had been – had been something of a miracle, though in truth, he was beginning to wish he hadn’t.

It had been Mel who’d suggested he take the Police gig. Initially, he’d been reluctant – partly because he’d felt he’d be letting his friend down by leaving the club, but mainly because Sarah had exploded into his life the night before his audition – but Mel had told him he could always find another saxophonist, and so could The Police, which was why he’d had to leap at the chance. ‘Remember, some things only come along once in a lifetime,’ Mel had told him, and at the time, Evan had assumed he’d been referring to the tour. When he’d seen the announcement, he’d realised it applied to Sarah, too.

Initially, in an attempt to forget her, he’d thrown himself into rehearsals, both with the band, and then back in his hotel room, playing every Police number again and again until he knew it backwards. Then the excitement of the tour had taken over – a new city every week, the buzz from being up on stage . . . To be honest, he hadn’t missed Sarah that much in the early days. Until he woke up one morning and realised where he was: Her home country. Without her.

It was then that Mel’s words had come back to haunt him – as a nagging doubt at first, and then growing into something that kept Evan awake long into the small hours, no matter how many post-gig shots he did with the band, or how much partying he indulged in. And then, when he’d found himself scanning the crowd every night in the hope that he might see her face, he knew things had gone too far.

The day he’d seen the paper, he hadn’t known what to make of it, though he’d suspected it had been partly aimed at him. Maybe she’d felt she needed closure, or that
he
did, and her getting married would give either – or both – of them some sense of that.

Then one morning, just as the tour was drawing to a close, he’d woken up with a start, convinced it was a cry for help, a call to
rescue
. Why else would she have put it in every main broadsheet newspaper in a country where she – and as far as Evan knew, David – had no relatives, except to ensure he’d see it?

He couldn’t discount the possibility that she just wanted to be sure of what she was doing, and with no other way of tracking him down, luring him back to London with a series of carefully placed photographs of the ‘happy’ couple was the best way to achieve that. But while he wasn’t expecting to play Dustin Hoffman to her
Katharine
Ross, he couldn’t ignore the possibility that maybe she was hoping he would.

A couple of times, he’d picked up the phone in his hotel room and dialled Sarah’s number, slamming it down again like a nervous teenager before the call had even connected. He’d even written her a letter, though by the time he’d filled the fourth sheet of A4, he’d realised this kind of stuff was better said in person. Besides, he knew he had to surprise her. Ambush her, even. She might be in so deep that he’d have to shock her into the realisation that she was doing the wrong thing. And he’d seen enough medical dramas on TV to know that you needed a big shock to restart someone’s heart.

He’d played out the last few weeks on tour with a growing anxiety, but also an increasing sense of focus, as if he finally had a direction in life. He’d even started running in an attempt to get fit, as if he was in training for some kind of prize fight which, ironically, was how he was beginning to see it, and by the time he’d touched down at Heathrow, he felt ready. Whatever the reason she’d seen fit to announce her wedding to the world, it’d had the desired effect – he was here now, and he had to see things through.

His mind still racing, he stuffed the clipping back into his wallet, and, realising to his surprise that he was already home, unlocked his front door, walked through to his bedroom, and lay down on the bed. It still smelled of Sarah – her perfume, their sex – and he breathed in deeply, savouring the memories her scent provoked. Then, suddenly, the sound of his mobile ringing made him jump, and he sat up quickly and fumbled for it in his pocket.

‘Sarah?’

‘This is an important message about your PPI insurance,’ said a recorded voice, so Evan stabbed the ‘end’ button in disgust, the
n –
worried he might have missed her call while answering that on
e –
checked his voicemail for what seemed like the millionth time. He considered the possibility that he might be developing OCD, then remembered the joke country and western song titled
If the phone doesn’t ring, it’s me
and wondered whether Sarah wasn’t calling him back on purpose, trying to provoke a response, but he doubted it – despite everything, he didn’t think she was into playing games. And even if she was, short of tricking his way past reception and
confronting
her in her office, he’d run out of ideas.

He lay back down again and closed his eyes, tired from the exertions of the previous evening – no, the last few days – knowing he needed to get some rest, and willed for sleep to come.

And for the first time in he couldn’t remember how long, Evan got what he wanted.