What Might Have Been (7 page)

11

L
ooking for someone?’

At the voice from the far side of the bar, Sarah looked up sharply, then recognised the short, balding man from
the previous evenin
g. What had he said his name was? Mal?
No –
Me
l
.

‘Evan, actually.’

‘He’s not coming.’

‘The poster said he played here on Fridays.’

Mel nodded at the empty stool in front of her, and after a moment’s hesitation, Sarah sat down. ‘He did.’

‘Did?’

‘Not anymore.’

Sarah felt suddenly disappointed. She’d come to the club early with the hope of catching Evan before he played, but at the moment, the place was almost empty, and she was feeling a little like a groupie. ‘Why not?’

‘Well, Beyoncé wants her old spot back, so . . .’ He held his hands up and shrugged in a ‘what-can-you-do?’ way, and Sarah laughed, though mainly because Mel had pronounced the singer’s name as if it was a quaint English seaside resort.

‘Seriously, Mel.’

‘Well, for one thing, it’ll be a long way to travel for a
sixty-minute se
t.’

‘Huh?’

‘He did tell you, I take it?’

‘Tell me?’

‘His news.’

‘News?’

‘About his audition.’ Mel had begun to look worried. ‘This morning?’

Just in time, Sarah caught her frown. ‘Yeah,’ she said, playing along.

‘I mean, touring with The Police.’ Mel shook his head in admiration. ‘And for a year . . .’

Sarah gripped the edge of the bar for support. ‘A
year
?’

‘I thought you said he’d told you?’

Mel was peering intently at her, but Sarah couldn’t meet his gaze. ‘He did. Just not how long for. You know Evan.’

‘I didn’t know that you did.’

Sarah blushed. ‘How on earth are you going to replace him?’

‘I could ask you the same question.’

‘Evan and I . . .’ She swallowed hard. ‘It’s just a bit of fun,
that’s all.
’

Mel arched one eyebrow. ‘Does Evan know that?’

‘Oh, for sure.’ Sarah forced a smile, willing herself to appear relaxed, but she suddenly felt desperate to get out of the club. ‘Still, it’s good news for him, I guess.’

‘It is. If he goes.’

‘Why wouldn’t he?’

‘Why do you think?’

She stared at him for a moment. ‘That’s hardly up to me.’

‘I didn’t say it was. Although I suspect you could help him make his mind up.’

‘Evan’s a grown man. I’m sure he can make his own decisions.’

‘Maybe. But how much do you know about him?’ Mel grinned as Sarah started to redden again. ‘Sorry. Silly question if you and he
are
just a bit of fun. He told you about Jazzed, right?’

‘Yeah. Though I had to practically force that out of him.’

‘Evan’s finest hour.’

‘He didn’t tell me what happened, though. Why they stopped.’

‘Well, that’s Evan for you.’

‘So what’s your point? That once he’s got what he wants, he gives up on it?’

‘My point, young lady, is that he needs this tour for his career. He’s far too good to do session work, or advertising jingles, or porn soundtracks, and especially to play at the likes of this place for the rest of his life. America was good to him once. It might be again. They don’t call it the land of opportunity for nothing. And this tour? It’s a hell of an opportunity.’

Sarah marvelled at Mel’s generosity, even though she’d begun to feel a little sick. She wouldn’t be the only one who’d be giving up their main attraction, she realised. And she also knew Mel was right.

‘What do you want me to do?’

Mel shrugged. ‘Convince him to go.’

‘I’m not sure he’ll listen to me.’

Mel made the ‘yeah, right’ face. ‘Well, find some other way, then – or at least, don’t give him a reason to stay. Not everyone gets two chances, Sarah. And if you haven’t taken the first one that life dealt you, then you sure as hell have to make sure you grab the second with both hands and hang on tight.’

‘I don’t need a lecture, Mel. My father was in the business.
I k
now what it’s like.’

‘All the more reason for you to let him go.’

She looked at him incredulously. ‘
Let
him?’

‘You’re not in love with him, are you?’

‘Don’t be . . .’ Sarah was shocked that she actually found herself wondering if she might be. ‘What business is that of yours? Jeez, what are you going to ask me next – what are my
intentions
towards him? Who are you? The father of the fucking bride?’

The club had started to fill up, and their argument was beginning to attract attention, so Mel held both hands up. ‘Relax. And trust me, Evan’s like a son – I mean, a younger brother – to me.’ He grinned again. ‘If I thought he’d found the love of his life, then the last thing I’d be doing would be getting him to walk away from it. So unless you think that
is
you . . .’

‘How do you expect anyone to know that?’ Sarah hissed.

Mel regarded her for a moment, then he sighed. ‘Sorry.
Sermon
over.’ He reached down behind the bar and produced a couple of glasses, closely followed by a bottle of bourbon. ‘All I’m saying is . . . I dunno what I’m saying. Except, perhaps, just do what your conscience tells you.’

Sarah stared at him as he splashed a healthy measure into each glass, feeling more than a little stunned. She already suspected her father had missed out on what could have been a decent musical career because of her, and she knew she’d never forgive herself if the same thing happened to Evan.

She waved away the drink Mel was offering her, then jumped down off her stool and hurried towards the exit. If she’d listened to her conscience, she knew, perhaps she wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.

12

E
van gazed out of the window as he waited for Sarah to arrive. He loved this view, from the seventh floor café at the Tate Modern, with the London skyline stretched out in front of him, its mix of old and new architecture reminding him of the way different jazz instruments combined to produce one beautiful melody.

He’d been pleasantly surprised to get her reply – they’d parted after lunch on Friday with no plans to meet up, and Evan had momentarily feared he might have overstepped the mark by
turning
up unannounced at her office, so he’d spent a nail-biting night, then texted this morning and asked her to meet him for a
coffee
, and when she’d responded almost straight away her tone had seemed . . . Insistent was the best description he could think of. And while he knew better than to read anything into a text message, he’d taken it as a positive sign.

As he sipped his coffee anxiously, he noticed his hands were trembling, and wondered whether he should have ordered decaf – or perhaps even a brandy instead. Up on stage he’d always felt comfortable, whatever the size of the audience – perhaps because he had confidence in his ability – but for as long as he could remember, he’d been nervous whenever simply asking a woman out. Asking one if she wanted to come away with him, and for a year . . .

Of course, it was a little far-fetched to think she could just drop everything and go, but after his conversation with Finn, he’d been feeling he had to make some sort of gesture. Offer Sarah something, at least to show her that Thursday night hadn’t just been a one-off. And while, back in the café, he’d almost laughed at how preposterous Finn’s suggestion had sounded, he’d been rehearsing it all
morning
, and unlike when you repeated a word so many times it lost its meaning, he’d been surprised at how much more sense the idea had made the more he’d said it.

While in his heart of hearts he suspected a long-distance relationship was the best he could hope for, his request might at least soften the blow when he told Sarah about the tour, though to be honest, even the prospect of trying to keep something going made him nervous. A year or so ago, he’d struggled to maintain seeing someone who’d lived in Bethnal Green, and that had been just across the Thames. The Atlantic? That was a whole new – and much scarier – prospect.

He looked down at the crowds on the South Bank, scurrying around as if grateful to be freed from their day jobs, and allowed himself a smile. Evan had never had a day job – and while he had to work what were known as ‘unsociable’ hours, he didn’t see them like that at all. His job was about as sociable as you could get – playing for people when they were out having a good time, a few drinks, perhaps even joining them for one afterwards. Plus, he’d always loved having his days to himself. The freedom of being able to get up whenever he wanted – particularly if he’d had a late night – and not having to be woken up by the alarm, iron a shirt, or jump on the underground with the millions of commuters that swelled London’s population by so much every weekday was, he knew, a
blessing
. Being tied to the nine-to-five that most of his school friends – and a good many of his music-school friends – had ended up doing just wasn’t for him.

Though while the free time was one of the joys of his occupation, recently Evan had begun to feel his days weren’t quite as much fun as they could be. The lack of urgency had begun to seem more like no sense of direction. The solitude he used to enjoy was starting to feel like loneliness. On one or two occasions, he’d found himself desperate to go and sit in a café and drink a coffee just to be surrounded by people: he’d found that a little worrying. And then two days ago, he’d met Sarah, and already he’d begun to wish he could spend all that free time with her.

He checked his watch for what seemed like the thousandth time. She was late – although given his upcoming absence, he could hardly complain about her timekeeping – and he swivelled round on his stool to get an unobstructed view of the lift doors. The last thing he wanted was for her to miss him – assuming she turned up. Even though he was bound to miss her if she turned him down.

He chuckled at his own joke and wondered whether he should use it to break the ice when she arrived, although given Sarah’s expression when he spotted her, Evan suddenly feared he’d need a much better one than that. As she hurried over to where he was
sitting
, he stood up to greet her.

‘Hi.’

‘Evan, I . . .’

Sarah hesitated before sitting down, and he began to feel uneasy. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing,’ she said, though Evan wondered why she hadn’t kissed him hello – and seemed to be having trouble meeting his eyes. ‘It’s a stunning view.’

‘Yes,’ he said, staring at her. ‘From where I’m sitting, it is. Quite possibly my favourite one.’

She turned to face him, colouring slightly when she realised he was looking at her as he spoke, then her expression hardened. ‘How are preparations going?’

‘Preparations?’

‘For the tour,’ she said, flatly.

The colour drained from Evan’s face. ‘How did you . . .?’

‘Mel.’

‘Mel?’

‘Don’t be pissed at him. He thought you’d told me.’

‘How could he possibly think that?’

Sarah shrugged exaggeratedly. ‘I don’t know. Maybe because it’s the kind of thing you should tell someone before you . . .’ She stopped mid-sentence, perhaps remembering the events of the night before last were at her instigation.

‘I’m sorry. I only found out yesterday morning. And I wanted to say something when we were having lunch, but I just couldn’t find the right moment.’

‘And when was the right moment going to be – when you were just about to get on the plane? Which is when, exactly?’

Evan looked at his watch, shocked to realise he’d be leaving in less than twenty-four hours. ‘Tomorrow,’ he said, softly.

‘
Tomorrow
?’

‘Yeah.’ Evan swallowed hard. ‘I know we don’t have a lot of time. Which is what I wanted to talk to you about.’

She held up a hand to stop him. ‘I understand. You must have a lot to sort out.’

Evan frowned, sure from the tone of her voice that Sarah
didn’t
understand. And besides, apart from finding his passport, packing his suitcase, and dropping his car off at the garage, he didn’t actually seem to have that much
to
sort out. Except this, of course. ‘Well, there is one thing.’

‘Evan, before you say anything, there’s something I need to . . .’

‘Whoa.’ He reached up to wipe away the solitary tear that was running down her cheek, but Sarah had already turned away from him. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘Don’t.’ She stared out of the window, though Evan suspected it wasn’t to marvel at the view. ‘Please.’

‘Right. Sorry.’ He glanced over towards the bar. ‘Would you like something to drink?’

‘Bourbon.’

‘Are you serious?’

‘Do I look like I’m joking?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘You don’t.’ He took her by the hand, and when she didn’t pull away, felt a glimmer of hope.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, her lower lip trembling. ‘It’s just . . .’

Evan stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, readying himself to ask her. After all, if it was him leaving that she was upset about, then what better way to try and put that right? But just as he was preparing his announcement, Sarah turned to
face him
.

‘I’m seeing someone.’

‘Seeing someone?’ He pulled his hand away and stared at her, open-mouthed, feeling like he’d been punched in the stomach. ‘Who?’

‘Someone else.’

‘What?’ he whispered, though more for something to say than because he hadn’t heard properly. ‘Where . . .’

‘Someone from work.’

‘From
work
? What’s his name?’

‘His name’s David.’

‘But . . .’ He narrowed his eyes, unable to make sense of things. ‘The other night . . .’

‘Was lovely. But a mistake. Especially now that you’re leaving.’

Evan ignored her attempt to turn the conversation back to the tour. ‘How long have you been seeing him?’

‘Does it really matter?’

Yes
, he wanted to shout. ‘I suppose not. And when were you going to tell
me
?’

‘I just did,’ said Sarah, quietly.

‘Are you in . . .? I mean, do you . . .?’ Evan couldn’t bring himself to use the word. ‘I don’t understand. At the club. And then yesterday. Why did you . . .?’

‘I’m sorry. It’s . . . well, it’s kind of how dating works in
the U.S.
’

‘We’re not
in
the U.S.’ Evan stared at her in disbelief. ‘But what about
us
?’

‘Is there an “us”, Evan? Would there ever have been?’

‘Well, I thought . . .’

‘With you away for a
year
?’ She rolled her eyes, then sighed. ‘Come on. You can’t be that surprised. What did you think would happen?’

‘I’m sorry, Sarah. I’m just . . .’ He stopped talking, and instead, simply shook his head, and as Sarah looked at him, Evan recognised the pain in her eyes. Because he was feeling it too.

‘Disappointed?’ she said, and he felt that might just qualify for the most obvious statement of the year award.

‘Of course I am. Because this –
us
– has to end.’

Sarah turned back to the view, and took another deep breath. ‘Yes,’ she said, eventually. ‘It does.’

And at that point, if he hadn’t before, Evan understood that saying anything else, asking her what he’d been planning to, was
pointless. More importantly, more painfully, he realised something
else.

That he and Sarah were over. Before they’d had a chance
to beg
in.