It Was You Page 3

  ‘Perhaps you should go and watch him play,’ I suggested, before adding, ‘and take Graham along.’

  She tutted. ‘Oi, you, stop spoiling my fantasy by dragging Graham into this.’

  ‘I thought Graham was your fantasy,’ I laughed.

  She smiled. ‘Nah, Graham and I are just mates, actually. There was nothing going on there. We had a great time away and we enjoy hanging out together but, you know, he’s not The One or anything.’

  I blinked and searched her face for any trace of irony. Sophie never lacked for male company and, from an outside perspective, her relationships seemed happy, fun-filled and, so far as I could tell, always ended, or waned, amicably, with no hard feelings on either side. At no point in the four years I had known her, had it ever occurred to me that she might actually be searching for, or even believe in, the existence of…

  ‘The One?’ I repeated, slightly incredulously. ‘The One?’

  ‘Sorry, what?’

  ‘You said about Graham not being The—’

  ‘That’s right. You know, I might try two of these at once,’ she said suddenly, staring at the tube in her hand.

  I dismissed any idea of trying to drag her back to the perfect partner issue, knowing from experience how pointless it was to try and discuss any topic in which she’d lost interest.

  ‘Quitting isn’t going well then?’ I attempted to sound surprised, but it was a struggle. She tried at least twice a year to give up smoking, without any long-term, or even short-term, success. Her last attempt had ended unhappily with an urgent doctor’s appointment for palpitations, resulting from simultaneously wearing two nicotine patches and smoking several cigarettes on a drunken night out.

  She shook her head sadly. ‘It’s like having an itch and not having any hands to scratch it with. Except, of course, I know exactly where my hands are.’ She looked towards the window and pointed at the newsagents across the road. ‘They’re in lots of little packets behind the counter. God, you were so bloody wise never to smoke, Alice. I wish I’d hung around with nice girls like you at school – instead of rolling Rizlas and piercing people’s noses for fags behind the gym.’ She smiled absently at the memory, before dragging herself back to the matter in hand. ‘Anyway, back to finding Mr Right. I wonder if Connie will suggest her friend to you.’

  I sighed. ‘Well, if she does, I’m quite happy to meet him, assuming,’ I added, ‘that I haven’t already moved in with Hugh, of course.’

  Sophie sipped her coffee, peering at me over the top of the cup. ‘So, let me get this straight. If Connie phones you up and says…’ she switched to Connie’s anxious Californian accent, ‘Er, I hope you don’t mind me mentioning this, Alice, but my friend from Craft Club is very nice and would love to show you his macramé, you’re just going to smile and ask when and where?’

  I shrugged. ‘Why not? I don’t think Connie would point any psychos in my direction.’

  Sophie raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘Not intentionally, maybe,’ she said, draining her latte and hoisting herself out of the armchair. ‘But you do have to remember that she married Greg. Greg who doesn’t like her driving after dark. Greg who blows on her tea before handing her the cup. Greg who fixed stabilisers onto her new bike.’

  ‘She made him take them off right away,’ I pointed out. ‘And anyway, Greg may be Connie’s type but I’m certain she knows he’s not mine,’ I protested, with as much conviction as I could muster.

  ‘Well, I for one,’ Sophie grinned, ‘can’t wait to see who she comes up with. What am I saying? I mean, who we come up with. You were quite clear about appreciating all offers.’

  ‘When I said that,’ I said sternly, ‘it was on the assumption that no one would take the opportunity to set me up with a creep for their own entertainment.’

  ‘As if I would do that.’ She picked up her bag and began to search for something. ‘But seriously though,’ she said, a little distractedly, ‘what about my plasterer, Wayne? Remember him? We ran into him in Pizza Express that time.’

  I stared at her, appalled. ‘The ginger guy with the criminal record and unintelligible accent?’

  She took a small box from her bag, extracted a second white tube and looked up at me with a bemused expression on her face. ‘He’s from Southmead, Alice, not the bloody Ukraine. And he’s lovely, Wayne, and well and truly back on the straight and narrow. And he’s newly single.’

  ‘Sophie,’ I began, ‘I don’t want you—’

  ‘Oh for Christ’s sake, I’m joking,’ she interrupted, laughing. ‘Unlike Connie, I am fully aware of your type – even if I don’t always approve,’ she added pointedly. I shuffled some papers on my desk and ignored this further reference to her dislike of Eddie. I was aware that she had found him less than charming whilst he and I were together, and I couldn’t fail to admit that she had ultimately been proved right. Her insight, coupled with a determination to tell the unvarnished truth, even when in danger of being shot as the messenger, was an aspect of our friendship which I both valued and feared. ‘I’m not going to suggest anyone at the moment,’ she continued. ‘So you’ll just have to see who Connie comes up with – if, as you say, things don’t work out with Hugh. And then, of course, Jon might want to pitch you an idea or two.’ She popped the two tubes into her mouth and sucked.

  ‘Well, he’s got a chance to do that tonight if he wants,’ I smiled. ‘I’m meeting him for a drink, with Miriam and Craig. Ooh and Romy,’ I added.

  ‘Romy’s visiting?’ mumbled Sophie, a plastic tube now hanging from either side of her mouth.

  I nodded and then pointed at the tubes. ‘Are you sure that’s not worse for you than an actual cigarette?’

  She shrugged and removed the tubes. ‘Maybe, but at least I don’t stink like an ashtray at work.’

  ‘You’ve never smelled like an ashtray,’ I said. ‘But anyway, fancy coming out tonight?’

  She shook her head. ‘It’d be nice, but I’m still a bit jet-lagged.’

  ‘Thought you might be.’

  She didn’t reply, but instead frowned at me.

  ‘What?’ I asked. ‘Have I got something on my face?’ I put a hand to my mouth.

  She shook her head. ‘I was just thinking that I’m very interested to see what happens next with you and Hugh.’

  I laughed. ‘You’re making me feel like a docu-drama.’

  ‘Well, you’re very interesting viewing right now, Alice. And you never know,’ she said, turning away from me and towards her screen. ’You’ve only just been introduced to Hugh and when have you ever known which way a relationship will go based on a first encounter?’

  Seven years ago

  ‘And this,’ said Lydia ‘is Jon.’ She looked up affectionately at the tall, dark haired man by her side. He smiled down at her with equal affection, before placing an arm around her shoulders and planting a kiss on the top of her head.

  ‘It’s just so lovely to finally meet you, Jon!’ said Miriam, stepping forward and standing on tip-toe in order to simultaneously deliver and receive a kiss on the cheek.

  ‘Hello, Miriam,’ he said, ‘and Alice,’ he added, turning to me.

  I hugged and kissed him in my turn. ‘Hello,’ I said. ‘Miriam’s right. It’s great to finally meet you. We’ve heard such a lot about you from Lydia over the past six months.’

  ‘Seven months,’ corrected Miriam.

  I looked at her. ‘Thank you, Miriam. Seven months,’ I said, turning back to Jon. He was smiling at Miriam and me, clearly amused. ‘And, of course, congratulations on your engagement,’ I added.

  ‘Yes,’ beamed Miriam. ‘And I can highly recommend married life.’

  Jon nodded. ‘I’m an exceptionally lucky man,’ he said, looking at Lydia in a way which made it clear that this was not simply a throw-away comment. ‘And I’m sorry I missed your other visits to London. But, fingers crossed, from next year, my weekends of working away will be a thing of the past.’

  ‘Ooh, yes!’ Miriam clasped her
hands together excitedly. ‘And then you’ll be back in Bristol, Lydia!’

  ‘I can’t wait,’ said Lydia. ‘I’ve really missed Bristol. And you two. I bore Jon rigid with tales from our house-sharing days.’ She reached out to us for a three-way hug.

  ‘Poor Jon,’ said Miriam, turning and placing a hand on his arm as we released each other a moment or two later. ‘You’ll be sick of having three women in the house by the end of this weekend.’

  He shook his head. ‘Lydia talks about you both so much, it feels like you’re here most of the time anyway,’ he smiled.

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t rely too heavily on the accuracy of anything she’s told you,’ I sighed. ‘She never has a bad word to say about anyone. It’s her only flaw.’

  Lydia shook her head and Jon laughed. ‘So she has a flaw?’ he said, placing his arm around her once again and drawing her to him. ‘That’s a relief. I’ve been desperately trying to find fault with her. You know, just to reassure myself that I’m actually worthy.’

  Chapter 4

  ‘Hello, Mr Durham.’ I had spotted Jon immediately on entering the already busy bar of The Cambridge Arms. He was sitting with a pint at a large corner table, clearly absorbed in whatever he was reading on the phone he held in his left hand.

  He looked up at the sound of my voice and smiled. ‘Hello, Ms Waites,’ he said, standing up to kiss me, before pointing to the glass of red wine in my hand. ‘I see you stopped en route.’

  ‘Trying to be efficient,’ I said, as I draped my coat over the back of a chair and sat down opposite him. ‘Well, for someone so very busy, you’re here awfully early.’

  He sat back down, tucking his phone into an inside pocket of his dark grey suit. ‘Miriam scares me,’ he said. ‘And she told me not to be late.’

  I nodded. ‘Same.’

  He held out his pint to me and I clinked my glass against his.

  ‘So,’ he smiled, ‘what have you been up to?’

  I sighed heavily. ‘Nothing I haven’t already told you about by email. I’m more interested in what you’ve been up to.’ I prodded his arm. ‘You’ve been so quiet.’

  ‘Just busy.’ He looked down at his pint. ‘Come on. Which sofa did you go for? Patterned or plain?’

  My eyes widened. ‘So you do read my emails.’

  ‘Actually, I get Geraldine to précis them for me,’ he said, sipping his beer and then returning the glass to the table. ‘I’ve added it to her job description. She drew my attention in particular to the one about Mr Right.’ He raised his eyebrows.

  ‘God, that,’ I laughed.

  ‘Yes, that,’ he said.

  ‘There had been a conversation about dating,’ I explained. ‘They want to put forward a few suggestions and I don’t mind.’ I smiled and shrugged. ‘Just have to see what happens.’

  He nodded and put down his beer.

  I took my first sip of wine.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked, after a moment.

  He looked up. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You’re doing that thing with your hair that you do when you’re thinking really hard about something.’ I pointed at his now tousled hair.

  He frowned. ‘What thing?’

  ‘You know. You run your hand halfway through it, leave it on the very top of your head for a second, and then complete the run-through.’ I demonstrated on my own hair.

  ‘I didn’t know I did that,’ he said, studying his hand, as if it was a newly-sprouted appendage.

  ‘Well, you do,’ I said simply. ‘All the time. And now it’s all sticking up.’ I reached across the table and patted down his hair.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I was actually just trying to remember what we were talking about.’ He picked up his beer. ‘Before the dating thing.’

  ‘Sofas. And I went ahead and bought the patterned one,’ I replied. ‘Ooh, but actually, I do have some properly interesting news. Happened yesterday,’ I added excitedly.

  ‘Yes?’ he looked at me enquiringly.

  I smiled but said nothing.

  He affected a bored expression. ‘I’ve told you before that the whole pauses-to-build-the-excitement thing you do, just doesn’t work with me.’ He raised his beer unhurriedly to his lips, before replacing it on the table without taking a sip. ‘OK, so it works a bit. Hurry up and tell me your news.’

  ‘I got a pay rise,’ I said.

  He grinned. ‘That’s brilliant.’

  I told David that I didn’t think I deserved another rise but he wouldn’t listen. He’s too nice.’

  ‘Not at all,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘He just recognises how good you are at choosing cushions.’

  I tutted and he looked down at his pint and laughed. ‘You’re very good at what you do and David doesn’t want to lose you. The pay rise is a business decision, not a favour.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, touched by the compliment.

  He looked up at me and smiled.

  ‘There they are!’ Miriam’s voice rang out across the bar and I turned to see her hurrying towards us, beckoning Craig and Romy to follow.

  At my side a moment later, she bent down and encased me in a crushing hug, before turning to Jon. ‘And how are you, Jon?’ she asked, kissing him on the cheek. ‘My goodness, you look so handsome in your work clothes. And out of your work clothes too, of course.’

  ‘And when have you seen him naked?’ asked Craig, smiling but looking exhausted. He was, I thought, completely unrecognisable as the affable student I had sat next to at my first university lecture, fourteen years earlier, and bonded with over a shared, shameful reliance on synopses of the various works we were supposed to be studying. I had then, a few weeks later, introduced him to my History student roommate, Miriam, and the rest, appropriately enough, was history.

  ‘Hi, Jon. Sorry I’m so under, or over, dressed,’ continued Craig, gesturing at his faded jeans and blue and white floral shirt. ‘But it’s good to see you. Clothed.’

  Jon smiled. ‘Great to see you too.’

  Miriam threw Craig a withering look and then immediately transferred her attention to Romy. ‘And here she is,’ she said, her gaze transforming from irritated to adoring in an instant, her hands extended, as if presenting a work of art for admiration.

  Romy flashed a shy but dazzling smile and raised an alabaster hand in general greeting. ‘Hello,’ she said.

  ‘Romy,’ I stood up and gave her a hug, ‘it’s so good to see you. You look great.’

  ‘You too, Alice,’ she replied, hugging me back, before removing a scrunchy from her wrist and casually bundling her long red curls behind her head. She looked, I thought, absolutely beautiful, and exactly as Miriam would have done, had she been a redhead, four years younger and two stone lighter. ‘It’s been way too long,’ she continued, making as if to sit down next to me. ‘I want to hear all about…’

  ‘Oh, Romy,’ said Miriam. ‘Do you mind if I sit next to Alice? I need to talk to her about the mouldy blinds in the top floor bathroom.’

  ‘Lucky old Alice,’ muttered Craig.

  ‘Whilst Craig,’ said Miriam pointedly, ‘goes and gets everybody a drink.’

  ‘Thanks, but I’ve barely started this one.’ I nodded towards my glass.

  ‘That doesn’t matter,’ said Miriam, turning to Craig. ‘He will still get you one, won’t you, Craig?’

  They exchanged a look, before Craig sighed, saluted and clicked his heels together. ‘The usual for everybody, I take it then,’ he said and headed towards the bar.

  ‘So,’ said Miriam, returning her attention to the table and beaming once again, as Romy moved to sit next to Jon, ‘isn’t this nice?’

  Chapter 5

  As Jon closed the taxi door and gave the driver our addresses, I leaned back in my seat and groaned.

  ‘Dear God,’ I said simply.

  He laughed. ‘Not your best evening ever, then?’

  ‘Well, it was OK for you. You got Romy.’

  He nodded. ‘Yes, that was OK, actu
ally.’

  ‘Whilst I got Miriam and Craig.’

  ‘There did seem to be a degree of tension there.’

  ‘A degree? There’s less tension in the Clifton suspension bridge. I mean, I know they always bicker a bit but honestly.’ I slumped in my seat and stared miserably out the window. ‘Did you hear the argument about him never putting his pants in the laundry basket?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘And then the one about him always leaving the lid off the Lurpak?’

  ‘I think I missed that one.’

  ‘Lucky you,’ I muttered, ‘because that led to him calling Miriam The Butter Mountain and then things really kicked off.’

  I turned to Jon to find him clearly on the verge of laughter.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I smiled. ‘I’m being grumpy, aren’t I?’

  ‘It’s OK,’ he said, now laughing. ‘You did draw the very short straw tonight.’

  ‘Hmm… Anyway, never mind about that.’ I sat up and adjusted my seatbelt. ‘I’ve missed both your correspondence and your company. So what’s been keeping you away from me? Work?’

  ‘Mostly,’ he said but looked so immediately exhausted at the thought that I decided not to press him for details, guessing that perhaps his recent wedding anniversary might also feature in his list of pre-occupations.

  I nodded and he looked at me for a moment, before taking a deep breath and saying, ‘And now I’m being grumpy. Sorry. So, tell me, how are the cushions?’

  I groaned. ‘For the last time, my job is not just about soft furnishings. It is a highly complex mix of activities.’

  He nodded slowly. ‘You see, I keep forgetting that.’

  ‘And just because it doesn’t involve…’ I hesitated, ‘the things which your job involves.’

  ‘Such as hard facts and easily defined concepts and roles?’

  ‘Yes. Just because mine is more about other things.’

  ‘Such as cushions.’

  He was now smiling broadly, an expression which put him at his most attractive. When he had laughed with Romy in the pub, they had reminded me of the kind of couple featured in the many home furnishing magazines which littered our office. I could see them now, sipping coffee together in a room of steely blues, decorated to perfectly match and complement his eyes – save, of course, for the tiny, stray fleck of hazel which had somehow found its way into his left iris. And on the walls, autumnal oils, hung to accent Romy’s long red curls, as she sat next to Jon, smiling up at him: a perfect couple, in a perfect room.