You, Me and Him (4 page)

Through eavesdropping, I established that these students were in their second year and all thought that Cambridge’s nightlife needed a serious boost. The man in the hooded top was called Finn. ‘There’s only one disco in this town,’ he complained, ‘and not even a good one at that. I don’t think we’d have any trouble pulling a crowd in here, Momo.’ His voice was authoritative; his manner persuasive. He circled the Pisa coaster with his fingers before tossing it into the air like a pancake. I wanted to warn him to put it down. ‘Keep still, boy, and give me that,’ Momo demanded.

Finn started to tap his foot under the table instead. They wanted a venue with a liquor licence, he explained. They had their own decks, just needed to hire someone for the door, to take the money and the coats. They wanted the club to operate once a week, on a Thursday night. Entry to be three pounds for the Cambridge students, five for anyone else.

Momo took them downstairs. It was a dingy, dark-walled space; at a pinch you could fit in about one hundred and twenty people. Cobwebs hung from the ceilings and the room smelled musty but it had definite potential. The idea excited me; every Thursday lots of students coming in here, grabbing a pizza and something to drink and then going downstairs to dance.

*

‘Mikey, one lasagne, one pizza with mozzarella and tomato, one pizza with anchovies and olives.’ I gave him the order while fetching drinks from behind the bar at the back of the restaurant, just in front of the kitchen. I could now see all the students properly. There were two boys, one of them black with dreadlocks. His name was Christian but they called him Christo for short; his profile was handsome and strong. He looked as if he played hard gruelling tennis matches on clay courts every day. Finn was taller but more fragile in physique. He looked as if he dipped in and out of exercise, like flicking in between television channels. A stylish blonde girl dressed in black sat next to him. She was pretty in a polished way; the kind of woman who would pout perfectly, even on a passport photograph. I wondered if she had lent Finn her peroxide. She was called Dominique.

Momo beckoned me over. ‘A bottle of red,’ he said, ‘and four glasses.’ Finn looked at me, his eyes narrowing as if he had seen my face before and was trying to put a name to it. There was a small faded scar beside his left eye. I wanted to ask him how he’d got it. ‘Well, go on, Josie,’ Momo ordered impatiently, looking at me and then Finn.

I returned with the glasses and opened the bottle of wine in front of them. Christo took a sip to taste. ‘Not bad,’ he grunted, without a thank you. ‘Now, names for the club?’

‘So pretentious,’ I muttered under my breath as I walked away, knocking a menu off the table.

‘Sorry, what was that?’ Finn called out.

I picked up the menu and continued walking.

‘Waitress girl! What did you just say?’

I stopped and turned, catching my breath. ‘Think we’re pretentious?’ he asked. His eyes flickered with delight that he had caught me out. I was drawn to those brown eyes. I felt there was a whole story behind them.

As he rolled up his sleeves, waiting for a response, his eyes locked on to mine. He was wearing an old leather plaited bracelet around his wrist. The overall look was scruffy but thought out.

‘Come on, Finn,’ Dominique said, touching his arm. He shrugged her off.

‘What’s your name?’ he demanded

‘Josie.’ He was not going to intimidate me.

‘That’s a nice name.’

‘We’ve got business to do,’ Momo reminded him, telling me with the wave of his hand to scarper.

‘So what do you think our club should be called?’ Finn called loudly after me. ‘
Josie?
’

There were groans around the table. ‘Come on, Finn,’ they all said.

‘It’s music to get down to. Break into a
sweat
.’ He was still teasing me with those dark eyes and I could feel the redness creeping up my neck.

Everyone was staring at me now, even Momo.

I cleared my throat. ‘Something like, Dare to Dance? You know, it’s “Care to Dance?” but …’

‘No, don’t like it,’ Finn pounced.

‘Lame,’ Christo agreed.

‘Born to Dance?’ I knew it was bad the moment it came out of my mouth. ‘Dance to Death?’ That was even worse.

There was stifled laughter.

Christo looked frustrated. ‘Leave her alone, she doesn’t have a clue.’

‘Well, I don’t hear you coming up with anything better.’

Christo looked up at me in surprise, caught in the headlights unprotected.

‘It’s not exactly impressive to come to a business meeting without even knowing what you’re going to call your club, is it?’ I continued, enjoying myself now.

‘She has a point.’ Finn tilted his head to one side. He looked as if he was just about to smile but didn’t quite do it, as if someone had pressed Pause just in time.

I walked back into the kitchen, proud of my own courage in standing up to second-year students, and briefly looked over my shoulder once more. Finn was still watching me. I pushed through the swing doors and leant against the sink, hands tightly gripping the enamel basin, head bowed. ‘Fuck, what was all that about?’ I muttered under my breath, turning on the cold tap and splashing my face with water.

*

I met Clarky in the evening at one of our favourite pubs on the bridge near the river. It was a relief to be back in familiar company where I understood each gesture and look and it did not matter what came out of my mouth. ‘I’m not a
bad
dancer,’ he answered my question. ‘Why?’ He was circling the rim of his glass with one finger.

I told him about the students in the restaurant. ‘And this guy, Finn, asked me what I would call it and …’

‘You fancy him, don’t you?’

‘He’s in his second year,’ I said, ignoring the question.

‘So?’

‘He’s a medic.’

‘You know what he’s reading too?’ Clarky leaned closer towards me.

‘Well, only because I overheard him talking to Momo. Stop looking at me like that, Justin Clarke.’ I started to fiddle with the beer mat.

‘Josie, you’re looking great at the moment. Any man in his right mind would be mad to turn you down.’ He picked up his drink and took a gulp quickly.

‘You think?’ I was fishing for another compliment.

‘I mean it.’ He looked gratefully at my flat shoes. ‘But don’t wear high heels, makes me feel insignificant.’

By the age of twelve I was five foot nine and still growing, with what seemed to me abnormally large feet. ‘I had to go to a specialist shoe shop,’ Mum would remind me. ‘Honestly, darling,’ she’d say, holding my face between her hands, ‘you are going to be lovely and tall so stop hunching those shoulders and be proud of your height.’

‘You are going to have such straight teeth.’

‘You are going to be beautiful.’

I was always ‘going’ to be something. Thankfully I had stopped growing by now at just under six foot. Clarky was five foot ten – ‘and a half’ he liked to point out. My teeth were straighter. My feet were in proportion to my height at size nine. It was as if I had finally stopped stretching and all the bits were falling into place. I had long dark hair that was healthy and thick with a natural curl. When I was working I coiled it into a ponytail and stuck a hairpin or pen through the middle to make sure it didn’t get in the way, but long strands always strayed and fell across my eyes. They were large and grey-blue, the colour of the sky before a storm broke, my father always told me.

‘You’ve lost weight too,’ Clarky observed before asking me if I wanted another drink. He walked to the bar with a confident stride. He also had changed since being in Cambridge. The patterned jumpers, stiff starched shirts, and all the strict formalities imposed upon him, were things of the past now. I had finally got over my phase of thinking I was in love with him when I was just sixteen. The closer we became, the stranger it would have been to go out with each other. A best friend was much better, I’d decided. I loved talking to him and getting the male perspective. I would never trade that friendship for a love that could go wrong. Love was fragile. Friendship was for life.

When he returned with drinks I asked him if there was anyone he liked.

‘Possibly,’ he told me. ‘Sandy. Might ask her out.’ He started to tell me about her but all I could think about was Finn. I wasn’t sure what he had started but I had this longing to see him again, as if we had unfinished business.

I knew there was a reason I’d chosen to work at Momo’s, I decided. Tiana would tell me it was all part of my destiny and I was beginning to agree.

CHAPTER FOUR

Finally the buzzer rings. I open the front door. Justin is carrying his violin and a canvas bag holding music books. ‘I’m sorry you had to miss rehearsals,’ I say.

‘It doesn’t matter.’ We walk into the kitchen. Rocky’s food is still on the table, along with the old blue flower-patterned breakfast plates with toast and jam on them and a couple of dirty mugs in the sink. I start to wash up manically. ‘This place looks like a Tracy Emin creation! I ought to stick a label on it, send it off to the Tate and at least make some money out of our mess.’

Clarky steers me away from the sink. He takes off his cord jacket and hangs it neatly on the back of a chair. I sit down and then jump up again, asking if he wants a drink. ‘Thirsty? Hungry?’ I open the fridge and pinch a cold roast potato from the bowl. ‘These are so good. I love the crunchy bits. Want one?’

‘Cold potatoes? No, thanks. Sit down, will you?’

‘I’ll put the kettle on. GEORGE! Turn Kylie down! Sorry, won’t be a minute.’ I go upstairs.

I find George in his bedroom, lying face down on the floor building a farmhouse with a windmill out of Lego. He’s so absorbed in it, ‘hyper focusing’ is what it’s called, that he doesn’t notice me coming into the room to adjust the volume of Kylie’s duet with Jason Donovan.

Finally I sit down with Clarky. ‘Finn will be happy,’ I start shakily. ‘It’s all he wants. His patience was running out. “You’re getting on, Josie,” he always says. I’m only thirty-one,’ I add.

‘Hardly the best way to persuade you,’ Clarky says.

I imitate Finn’s voice. ‘“If we’re going to have a bigger family, shouldn’t we be doing it now, while we’re young enough to stand the sleepless nights?”’

‘Do you want another baby?’

‘I never ruled out having another, but it terrifies me.’ I rub my forehead hard.

Clarky shuffles his chair forward. ‘What scares you?’

‘Everything!’ I lower my voice. ‘I’m just about coping with George now. Getting to grips with our routine. I love my work, and I’m happy! When the baby comes I’ll be right back at square one.’

‘What does Finn say about that?’

‘He says it’ll be all right because George is at school. Well, Finn leaves the house at the crack of dawn, goes to work and comes home after all the chaos is over. He doesn’t understand.’

I tell Clarky about the ‘baby’ argument we had when I threw an egg at Finn.

‘At school?’ I had screeched. ‘Ah, at school, is he? And I am constantly on the alert, Finn, waiting for the phone to ring and Ms bloody Miles to tell me George has forgotten his games kit or broken one of the computers …’ I was holding an egg box and something exploded inside me. I hurled an egg across the kitchen. It smashed against a wooden door, the yolk seeping into the cracks. Finn had stared at me and then at the broken egg, his eyes wide with bewilderment.

Clarky smiles. ‘Promise never to come near me with a box?’ He leans back, away from me. ‘Did you eat scrambled for supper?’

I laugh wearily. ‘I was mad, OK? Oh, God, I can’t …’ I don’t want to say it too loudly.

‘Have another child like George?’ he finishes for me quietly. He places a mug of tea in front of me. ‘I’ve put some sugar in it.’

‘What if it’s another boy?’

‘Is ADHD hereditary?’

‘Yes. We think Finn’s mother has it although it’s never been diagnosed.’

‘Does he know you’re pregnant?’ Clarky starts to circle the rim of his hot mug carefully. He does one full circle and then stops and changes direction. I’ve always told him he has artist’s fingers.

‘No, only you know.’

‘Look, you really need to talk to him about it, not me.’

I press my lips together. ‘I wish I could. Sometimes he doesn’t want to listen.’

Clarky frowns and twitches his nose. ‘Finn needs to know that the pregnancy is great news, but at the same time, you are going to need a lot of support. He can’t keep his head in the clouds.’

I nod appreciatively.

‘If I were Finn,’ he continues, taking his hand away from the mug and gently touching mine, ‘I’d want to know how you were feeling.’

I remember my dream.

‘What?’ he asks intently.

‘I had a dream about us the other night.’

‘Sounds interesting. And?’

‘You and I got married in a hot air balloon.’

He laughs. ‘Sounds like a nightmare.’

I lean my elbows against the table again, hands pressed against my forehead. ‘No, this is. But then I think of George who’d love a brother or sister. I never ruled out having another baby. Maybe it will be a girl?’

‘Would that make all the difference?’

I start to chew one of my already bitten thumbnails. ‘What’s wrong with me? Some people dream of having children and here I am, terrified.’

‘No one else knows what it’s like bringing up George. We can try to understand, but you’re the one who has to deal with it.’

‘I wish Finn saw it that way. Why can’t he see it like you do?’

‘Do you want this child at all?’

‘What?’

‘It’s your decision, Josie.’

I feel uncomfortable. ‘I don’t think he’d ever forgive me. It would ruin our marriage. I couldn’t.’

‘But if he loves you?’

‘This is our child. I couldn’t.’ I open the fridge and eat another cold potato.

‘Sorry, J, all I want is for you to be happy. Your health, your sanity, comes above everything else. I remember you struggling with George in the early days, pretending you were OK and getting little support from anyone. You’ve got to do what
you
think is right.’

I turn to him. ‘You know me better than anybody, sometimes better than Finn.’

He smiles. ‘I’ve had years of practice.’

In that split second I think of Clarky and me as eighteen year olds.

‘Josie? What are you thinking?’

‘Relationships, they’re not easy.’

He nods. ‘Look how scared I am to commit to anything. No steady girlfriend, no children. Who the hell am I to talk?’

I close the fridge and hand him a bottle of beer. ‘I think you’re clever,’ I say with a dry laugh.

The front door opens. ‘He’s early,’ I whisper. It’s 6.30.

Finn drops his case on the floor by the sofa and slings his jacket over the banister. ‘Hi, honey, I’m home!’ he calls, like he does every evening. He strides into the kitchen. ‘For once I didn’t have any bleeps, I finished my clinic and … oh, Justin.’ He stops talking momentarily. ‘How are you?’ he adds awkwardly.

‘Very well, thank you,’ Clarky replies with a formal nod.

‘Good day then?’ I ask on autopilot.

‘Yep. I did six angiograms without any major hiccups and a patient even thanked me.’ Finn cocks his head, waiting for a reaction.

‘Is that rare, to be thanked?’ Clarky asks.

‘Yes. Waiters and cab drivers get tipped, even if the service is lousy. All
we
hear are patients moaning about the NHS. One time, this man came into my office and actually tipped over my desk, can you believe it?’ Finn laughs. ‘He started to say, “In my country, we don’t have these ridiculous waiting times.” So I said to him, “Well, go back to your sodding country then.”’

I’ve heard this story many times. Eventually Clarky says, ‘Good for you.’

Finn was hoping for a more responsive audience. ‘Sorry, was I interrupting something? It was
awfully
quiet in here before I turned up.’ He pulls a face. ‘I’m famished! Didn’t even manage a sandwich in the canteen today.’

Clarky scrapes his chair back. ‘I ought to be going.’

‘What about your beer?’

‘Another night,’ he says. ‘I have a date.’

‘Who’s it this time?’ Finn enquires.

‘Miranda.’ Said in a tone that invites no further questions. ‘’Bye, Finn. Good to see you.’ Clarky’s voice has increased in volume and boldness.

I walk him to the front door. ‘Have a good date,’ Finn calls out. ‘With
Miranda
.’

I open the front door. Clarky grabs my wrist. ‘Call me tomorrow, promise?’

‘Promise.’

Finn opens the fridge and eats a cold roast potato. ‘God, these are good. How was Justin then?’

‘Great.’

‘You two were so serious, like little spinsters.’

‘Finn, I have something to tell you …’

‘Why does Clarky date such shallow, dizzy girls? That last one … Christ, what was her name? Anyway, she was the pits.’ The last time we had all gone out to a new Japanese restaurant round the corner, Clarky had brought his latest date, Samantha, a pretty blonde who did nothing but whisper to him in a baby voice and ask him to feed her because she couldn’t use chopsticks. Finn eventually lost his cool and told her that if she had something to say, why not share it with everyone?

‘He’s a bright, good-looking-ish guy. I don’t get it.’

‘He hasn’t met “the one” yet. When he does, I reckon he’ll be so bowled over that he won’t know what’s hit him. Anyway, I need to talk to you.’

‘You are never going to meet the “perfect” girl.’ Finn opens the beer bottle and takes a swig.

‘You’re never going to meet the perfect man either.’

He raises an eyebrow. ‘But I come close.’

‘Ish. Finn, I’ve got something to …’

‘It’s like he’s too scared of meeting the right person so he only goes out with airheads who won’t challenge him. He needs to take the bull by the horns, you know? He also needs to stop hanging around here. He should meet Alessia. My God, now she is close to perfect.’

Alessia de Silva is a Senior House Officer at the hospital. I haven’t met her yet, and from the way Finn describes her I’m not sure I want to. Not only is she the sexiest woman on this earth but I am also told that she is ‘seriously clever’. Finn likes to tell me she works ‘under him’.

‘Finn?’

‘If you sit and wait for this perfect angel, you are going to be disappointed. There are always compromises.’

You are too right, I think. I’m not entirely sure, however, what compromises Finn has made for me.

He takes off his tie and it falls to the ground. He loosens the buttons of his shirt. He circles his neck. I put his tie on the kitchen table. Next he kicks off his shoes and swings his feet onto the table. ‘Are you like this at work?’ I ask.

‘Ah, that’s good, I’ve been rushing round that hospital all day. The lift decided to break down today. I like Justin but …’

‘FINN!’ I start once more.

‘… the ice should have melted by now. I still think he loves you and can’t move on …’

I rush up to him and cover his lips with the palm of my hand. ‘For one second, don’t talk. You are just like George. I have some news.’ I speak slowly and clearly.

‘News? Let go.’ I release my hand. ‘What kind of news?’

‘Think of something you really want.’

‘You got promoted?’ I shake my head. ‘Won a premium bond? A gallery accepted your work?’

‘No. Something
you
want.’

‘I want what you want. Your happiness makes mine complete,’ he fools around. Then he starts to get it. ‘You’re not … are you?’

‘I took the test tonight.’

‘Josie!’ He lowers his legs to stand and then wraps his arms around me. ‘I can’t believe it! That’s amazing. You’re not joking?’

‘It’s real.’ I think about what Clarky said. ‘There’s no going back.’

‘This is the best news. How many weeks?’

‘About six.’

‘This is the point when I scoop you up into my arms and …’ He attempts to pick me up.

‘I’m too heavy.’ I can’t help laughing. ‘Too many potatoes.’

He kisses me. ‘I’m so happy,’ he exclaims. ‘Are you OK about this?’

‘Yes.’ I bite my lip. ‘And no. I had a panic attack at Sainsbury’s. What if I have another child with ADHD?’

Finn takes my hand hurriedly and we sit down on the stools. ‘You’ve got to stop worrying about this. I’ve seen the research at the hospital. You can have one child with ADHD and four children without. There’s no certainty. It’s a risk, but there’s always a risk. Everyone worries about whether they are going to have a healthy child or not.’

‘If it’s a girl, there’s less chance she’ll have it, isn’t there?’

‘No, not necessarily. Girls are not so externalised with their symptoms when they are young. They can have ADHD but not be diagnosed until adulthood. And if we do have a boy, it doesn’t automatically mean we’ll have another George.’

‘I love George.’ I feel so guilty for talking about him like this.

‘I know. Look, the ADHD will probably always be with him but, as hard as this stage is now, people affected as he is can lead independent lives. Look at Emma, the mum you met on the internet, and her son the British Gas boy. These children are often talented and bright, with high IQs, they just need to find something they’re really good at. Great figures like Winston Churchill and Oscar Wilde are believed to have had ADHD.’

‘And Einstein,’ I add. George has a monkey in his bedroom which he’s named after him.

‘I don’t believe there could be two boys like George, do you?’ Finn suggests.

‘Why not? Give them both to me, I love a challenge.’

‘This is great news. We are going to have another baby.’ He talks as if he can hardly believe it. ‘How did it happen? I thought you were taking precautions?’

‘I missed a couple of days. We were at my parents’,’ I tell him. ‘Come on, Finn, am I that forgettable?’ I hit his arm playfully and stand up.

He slides off the stool and grabs me by my waist, pulling me towards him. ‘Come here. I remember.’

We hear George slide down the banisters. I squeeze my eyes shut. He’s going to hurt himself one of these days. ‘We’re going to have another one of those,’ I whisper to Finn, prodding him helplessly on the shoulder. The phone rings and George snatches it up.

‘It’ll be great,’ Finn assures me with a kiss. ‘We’re going to be just fine. One day at a time.’

‘Dad’s sexing Mum right now.’

I bite my lip hard and look at Finn. We both burst out laughing. ‘Who is it?’ we call out to George.

‘All right, Granny Greenwood.’

I press my face against Finn’s shoulder. ‘Why did it have to be Granny, of all people?’

‘Can Daddy fix your tea trolley? OK, Granny. I’ll ask him. ’Bye.’