‘With you, I got a taste of something better than constantly shagging around. And once you’ve had the best, it’s pretty hard to go back to something else,’ he’s saying. ‘What about you? Are you seeing anyone?’
I pause. Pause in that way he used to before he said something he knew I didn’t want to hear. It’s not as calculated as it seems. It’s hard knowing you’re going to say something that will hurt someone you care for. ‘Kind of,’ I say.
‘Right.’ He inhales deeply. ‘Who is he?’
‘A film director I met. He’s been helping me with a script I’ve written.’
‘Right.’ Another deep inhalation. ‘Is it serious?’
‘Depends what you mean by serious.’
‘Have you . . .’ he stops, takes another big breath, ‘have you slept with him?’
I pause. ‘Have we spent the night sleeping in the same bed? No. But if you’re asking if we’ve had sex . . .’ I pause again. ‘Then yes. Yes, I’ve slept with him.’
The breath catches in Greg’s chest. It sounds painful. I could’ve lied, but then why go so overboard about him and Jen, and him and Matt, if I was going to do the same thing. ‘Right. Right. Well, I’d better get some sleep,’ he says evenly. ‘Night.’
‘Night.’
The room is in silence save his breathing, which sounds as though someone is holding a pillow over his face while something heavy presses on his chest.
‘Amber.’ Greg fights his way out of his sleeping bag, sits up. ‘I don’t want you seeing this man any more. I know I’ve got no right to ask or to say anything, especially as I wasn’t exactly fighting off Salene, and I slept with your best mate once upon a time ago, and it was me who didn’t want to be friends, but I don’t want you seeing someone else. I don’t want you making love to someone else.’
‘I’m not making love to him. I’ve just had sex with him.’
He makes that funny noise with his breathing again. ‘You make that seem like a little thing but it’s not. It’s not. Especially when he sounds so perfect for you, he can do things with you that I can’t, like work on your script. He sounds like the kind of bloke I expected you to end up with. It’ll kill me if you settle down with him.
‘I’m not over you. I haven’t moved on. I haven’t thought about moving on. I don’t know how to. Move on to what? I’ve had girls come on to me these past few months, yes, despite how shite I look. But I couldn’t, I just couldn’t.
‘The thought of someone else even kissing you, let alone knowing he’s touched you, it’s driving me crazy. It’s killing me . . .
‘You don’t seriously think I came to the wedding because Dad2 invited me, do you? I came to be near you. Anything to be near you. I even cut my hair because I know how much it irritated you. When I was in Ireland Kristy said she hated you because it took five years and a pregnancy to make me propose to her. She’d been hinting for years about me moving in, about us getting married, whereas I’d gone to propose to you after six months and wanted us to live together after three months. When Renée told me about you moving to Brighton, the first thing I did was get on the Net and look for jobs down there.
‘I thought you knew me. You must’ve known that when I said I didn’t want to be friends, it was nothing to do with you being a controlling bitch, it was because I couldn’t face seeing you day after day knowing the reason I couldn’t touch you or hold you was because I was so fucking stup—’
‘SHUT UP!’ I shout suddenly. ‘SHUT UP. SHUT UP. SHUT UP. IF I HEAR ONE MORE WORD FROM YOU, I WILL MAKE THAT BATH SEEM LIKE THE LUXURY OPTION.’
Greg, wisely, does as he’s told.
‘I had sex with him once. Only once. To prove to myself that I could do it. I didn’t want the last person I slept with to be someone who’d been with Jen. It was too painful already, I had to do something to erase that. It was only once with this man and, yes, it was good sex, but even then we haven’t done it again. He constantly asks me out, wants me to be his girlfriend, for us to do it again, and I’ve not said yes. Or even maybe. I’ve always said no. I only see him because I’m working with him.’
‘Oh,’ Greg says. ‘So you’re not interested in going out with him?’
‘Not properly, no.’
‘And the sex wasn’t amazing?’
‘No. It was good, not amazing.’
‘We always had amazing sex, didn’t we?’
‘Yes, Greg.’
‘And you won’t do it again with him?’
‘No, Greg.’
‘Fantastic.’
I now know the exact moment I stopped running. It was that second after Greg kissed me. The one person who brought out the worst and the best in me kissed me, did something so outlandish that my subconscious decided to join him. Decided to do the unthinkable and see things through. I’d known that weekend that something was different, that I’d changed. And that was down to Greg doing something I didn’t run from.
I’ve missed him. Not just the sex and the storytelling. The routines and the laughs. I missed Greg. So, he didn’t sniff chocolate. He was too good looking. He’d shagged my best friend. But, I’d been still. On Martha’s balance sheet, that stillness outweighed everything else. My perfect man wasn’t perfect.
He simply gave my soul that soothing stroke I used to get from eating chocolate.
I start laughing. ‘You’re such a big wuss,’ I say through my giggles. ‘Oh, boo hoo, Amber’s shagged someone else. Boo hoo.’
Greg’s big sunshine laugh, the one that comes from somewhere in his heart, hits the air, making me laugh even more.
‘Oh, what about you, Miss “I Wonder If He Shagged Kristy When He Was In Dublin?” and Miss “I Bet He Shags Salene”? If you’d seen your face . . . You were right jealous.’
I laugh harder. ‘No, I just thought you could do better.’
Greg chuckles. ‘I’ve always had appalling taste in women.’
‘I know,’ I say through my giggles. ‘Ah, fucking hell, you’re so funny. I love you.’
The laugh dies in Greg’s throat. ‘That’s not even remotely funny.’
‘I wasn’t trying to be funny.’ I pause. ‘I was trying to tell you . . . I was trying to say that even though I never said it when we were together, I did love you. I want you to know that. In case you doubted it.’
‘And now?’
‘Now, I know I can live without you.’
‘Right,’ Greg says.
‘But I don’t want to.’
‘Are you saying you want to get back with me?’
‘I’m saying I’m over the Jen thing. And the Matt thing. And the liar, liar pants on fire thing. Basically, we’re crap when we’re not together. And we’re absolutely disgusting when we are together but at least then we get to have amazing sex.’
Greg climbs out of his sleeping bag, crawls across the room, grabs me from under the covers and pulls me onto the sleeping bag beside us, envelops me in his arms. His face is inches from mine when he says, ‘After much consideration, I’ve decided to let you take me back. It’s best all round.’
‘You’re only in it for the sex,’ I laugh.
‘Too right,’ he replies. Before he kisses me I push my fingers onto his lips.
‘I need to ask you one thing before you engage those lips, buddy.’
‘No, the thing with Jen didn’t mean a thing. It was the worst mistake of my life and every day I wish I could take back the moment of madness that made me do it.’
‘Thanks for sharing, but that wasn’t what I was going to ask.’
‘Oh. Sorry. Pretend I didn’t bring it up. Ask away.’
‘Will you move in with me, you old slapper?’
epilogue
the chocolate run
‘Fancy meeting you here.’
No way. This is the voice of a person I do not want to see. Ever. Eric and Greg tried to send me out to get them chocolate while they watched the football and I’d been on the second round of abuse when Arrianne interceded on their beha
lf and requested I go because she had a pregnancy-induced craving for it. And now look.
I turn to my left, a chocolate bar in each hand.
‘And what do you want,’ I say.
She holds her shopping basket close to her, like a shield. She looks like she used to, pre-Matt Makeover. Wavy blonde hair, fleshed out face, fuller body. She looks normal again. It’s been nearly nine months since I last saw her in the school playground. Of course I haven’t forgotten what she looks like without and with the weight, but I’m still staring into the face of a stranger.
‘To see you,’ she replies.
I have to hand it to Jen, she has thick skin. She’s called me almost every day for the past nine months, whether I speak to her or not. She’ll ring, email, write, even though I’m still having none of it. She’d stopped short of showing up until now. After Greg moved in, I changed my numbers. No, our numbers (still getting used to that after six months).
‘And Greg set me up.’
‘No, Eric.’
‘My brother hates you.’ Probably a little uncalled for, but there you go.
‘He has good reason. But he knows how much I love you. He said he’d get you out of the house so I can talk to you.’
Eric’s the only person on earth who knows how much I miss her. Greg wouldn’t dare tell me to make up with Jen. He’s very careful what he says about her, full stop. When we finally stopped the round-the-clock, back-together shagging, Greg and I sat down and talked. And talked. And talked. (I’d never talked so much about my feelings in my life – it was bloody exhausting.) We’d agreed that he could see Matt whenever he wanted because he did – for reasons that still escape me – want to patch up their friendship. He could even talk to me about Matt and I’d be a grown-up and listen and ask questions in the right places, but, under no circumstances, would I be requested to see him or talk to him. In the same spirit, Greg wouldn’t torture me with his jealousy whenever I met up with Mr (there’s still a spark between us) Chocolate Sniffer.
When seeing Jen re-entered the equation, Greg had tried to initiate another big talk session, but I headed him off at the pass (I couldn’t face all that yakking again) and told him to do what he wanted because I trusted him. Plus, I knew he’d have enough sense to flee the country if things got vaguely sexual with Jenna because he’d not live to see the sunrise following me finding out about it. (‘Fair enough,’ Greg had said, ‘how’s your little film director friend?’)
Besides, I don’t mind Greg seeing Jen – I get to hear about her; have a connection to her without having to do anything.
Eric, much as he doesn’t like Jen, is on at me all the time to at least talk to her – he knows there’s a big gaping hole in my life where she should be. That I miss her friendship. Yes, I might be missing a friendship, a closeness and depth, that didn’t exist, but I didn’t know. That’s what Eric was always saying: ‘There’s unfinished business between you and Jen. If it’s really over with you two, you wouldnae have any kind of reaction to her contacting you. You wouldnae have a gob on yer whenever speaking to her is mentioned.’ I wonder if I have a gob on me now that I am speaking to her.
‘I’m back with Matt,’ she says. ‘We’re the only ones who’ll put up with each other. He’s quit his job and only works in Leeds now. He’s getting divorced.’
‘Greg told me.’ Greg told me that Matt had begged her for ages to give him another chance, claiming that she was the one he wanted. And she had. She wasn’t my friend any more so she wasn’t my problem and I wasn’t allowed to feel any way about it . . . Even if it was the most stupid thing to do since bungee jumping without a rope.
‘We’re getting married next year,’ she continues. ‘Did you know that?’
‘Yes.’
‘I was hoping, wondering, hoping you’d be my bridesmaid.’
What’s the chocolate like on your planet? ‘I don’t think that’d be a good idea,’ I say out loud.
‘OK. Maybe not. Greg said that you and Renée are sharing the Festival Director’s role and that you’ll be starting a part-time masters degree in film direction later this year.’
‘Oh, I get it, you’re here to tell me I’m too fat, ugly and warm to do it.’
She closes her eyes as if in silent agony. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says and returns her gaze to me. ‘I’m so, so, so sorry. For everything. For how I treated you, for trying to keep you and Greg apart. Even that day you came to see me I was a cow to you. I tried to blame everything I’d done on you. I don’t know how I ever thought I could justify what I did. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t even realise how much of an evil bitch I’d been until you cut me out of your life. I’m surprised you stuck with me so long.’
‘Yeah, well,’ I say, ‘I probably should have told you about me and Greg earlier.’ So you could’ve ruined it sooner.
‘So I could’ve ruined it sooner?’ Jen replies.
I can’t help but smile.
Jen grins back at me. ‘That’s what you were thinking, wasn’t it?’ Her smile disappears. ‘It’s true, though. If I’m honest, part of me suspected about you and Greg. I knew something had happened between you the night of my birthday because you were both so shifty with each other, but I thought that maybe he’d made a pass at you or something. That’s why I set you up on that blind date that weekend and kept on about what a git Greg was.
‘I hoped you’d back off, but no, you were as close as ever. Closer even. So I lied about him making a pass at me, tried to chip away your confidence. It was the only way I could get you back in my life.’ She sighs. ‘I could feel you were slipping away from me. I was the centre of your life for so long. For years you cared about me and everyone else came second, but then all of a sudden I wasn’t number one. I guess because you were with Greg.
‘It was like that with my mum – whenever she got a new bloke she lost interest in me. I’d be lucky if I saw her most weekends. It’d always been all right with you before. Even when you were with Sean you put me first. I had all this unconditional love from you that I’d never had in my life. When you and Greg started being close mates you transferred a lot of your attention and affection to him. You two were always doing things together, things I couldn’t, like going to lunch, going out at night during the week. You obviously cared for him and I didn’t like it. I hated it.
‘That night in the hotel I panicked. When you said you were moving in together I knew that’d be it. We’d never get our friendship back to how it was, and you’d put him first. I couldn’t let that happen. I was so jealous and angry, I just panicked. You weren’t meant to hear. Not like that. Not ever. I’m sorry.’
Something that’s niggled at my mind for years occurs to me. ‘Did you say something to Sean about me and Greg?’
Jen bites her lip, stares at me with big sorrowful eyes. ‘I, erm, might have mentioned Greg’s reputation for sleeping around.’
‘What else?’
Jen lowers her head. ‘And, erm, that Greg had told Matt that he’d sleep with you given half the chance.’ Jen adds quickly: ‘It was true! Greg did say that. But it was a choice between me, you and their sixth form tutor. Sean didn’t know that part.’
‘You basically tried to sabotage any relationship that seemed more important to me than you, including the one I have with my brother.’
‘Yes. I’m so, so sorry.’
You’re unbelievable, that’s what you are. I turn back to the chocolate.
‘It’s all such a mess,’ Jen says to my silence.
‘No it’s not. My life’s pretty sorted. So’s yours by the sound of it, got the man you love, getting married next year. Greg said you were trying for a baby. You and Matt have got Greg back as a friend, so it’s not a mess. Let’s keep a sense of proportion.’
‘Every time we see Greg all he does is talk about you – partly because you’re his favourite topic of conversation, but mainly because I keep pumping him for information on you. He’s my hotline to you.’
‘Poor bloke, I do the
same to him about you. And every time I do, I can tell he’s wondering why I don’t just speak to you . . .’ No, do not weaken. Remember what she did. How much she hurt you. ‘I’ve got to go.’ I put down the chocolate. ‘I don’t think any of them deserve these after they so wantonly set me up.’
Her face struggles not to collapse in disappointment as I head for the door.
And then, something else inside me speaks. Reminds me that I was no victim in this. When you don’t speak up for yourself, how do you expect people to know how to treat you? It was not speaking up that got me into this.
If I’d had the courage to tell Jen that our friendship meant everything to me and that nobody would change that, maybe things wouldn’t have gone the way they did. When I was in runner mode, I didn’t tell anyone how much I cared. It’d happened with Greg too – he’d been so unsure of my feelings he’d had to demand a commitment from me. It was the same with Mum not knowing, not understanding, that things were different with Greg because she’d never been given the chance to meet other boyfriends. Once I started opening up, stopped running and started giving myself the opportunity to feel and hurt, life got better. Fuller, rounder, coloured in. I should have opened up to Jen a long time ago. Should’ve stopped running and talked to her before it came to this.
I turn back to her. ‘Jen.’
She looks up, her topaz-blue eyes a mess of burgeoning tears.
‘Do you want to meet our kids?’
‘Your kids?’ Her voice is wobbly, about to collapse into tears.
‘Me and Greg have adopted so many fish over the past few months we’ll probably have to move to a bigger place so they can have their own room.’
‘I didn’t know you liked fish.’
‘There’s a lot of things about me you don’t know. And there’s a lot I don’t know about you.’ My eyes meet her eyes. ‘But we can find out.’