I twisted and turned through the growing number of bodies on the dance floor and weaselled into position at the bar. I placed my order and turned to look back at my best friends, now gesturing wildly at each other and cackling like witches, harsh words forgotten. They left me exhausted. And I wasn’t quite sure what I’d do without them.
‘All right, sis?’ Paul sidled up beside me, winked at the girl behind the bar and started sipping his pint before I’d even opened my mouth. ‘Emelie’s looking fit tonight.’
‘Don’t bother.’ I ordered the wine and gave him the sternest look I could muster. ‘Aren’t there any other lucky candidates ready to catch whatever you’re passing round this evening?’
‘Oh god, yeah, loads.’ He turned around and leaned against the bar. ‘But none of those would piss you off quite so much, would they?’
‘You’re so funny.’ I grabbed the bottle and headed back to the table. With Paul hot on my heels. Well, flats.
‘Matthew,’ he nodded, before slipping onto the seat closest to Emelie. ‘Em.’
I pretended not to see her blushing for the sake of my own sanity.
‘So, what are you doing sitting down?’ Paul asked. ‘This DJ’s amazing.’
‘We were just counselling your sister.’ Matthew took the wine from me and topped up everyone’s glasses. Ahh, the great British Friday-night tradition of binge-drinking. ‘That’s a serious job, you know.’
‘She won’t listen,’ he replied. ‘Don’t waste your breath.’
‘Rach.’ Emelie tore her eyes away from my little brother just long enough to spy Simon arriving. I looked up to see him roll through the door and straight up to the bar with a group of people I didn’t recognize.
Simon. My Simon.
I couldn’t believe it was four weeks since I’d laid eyes on him. Half of me felt as though he’d kissed me on the head on his way out this morning, and the other, like I was looking at a complete stranger. He was still in his smart jeans-and-shirt ensemble that he wore to work on casual Fridays. If he’d been stuck in the office late, he’d be wanting a drink. Probably a whisky and Coke, even though I knew what he really wanted was Malibu and lemonade. Given his sloped shoulders and slight stagger, it seemed as if he’d had a couple of drinks already. He looked tired. It made my heart hurt not to be able to go over to him and kiss him hello. But that wasn’t part of the plan.
Sitting at a table, moping into a glass of wine wasn’t going to win him back. I forced my face to put on a smile for the first time in what seemed like forever and took hold of Emelie’s arm. ‘Come on, I want Simon to think we’re having fun.’
‘Any chance we could actually just have fun?’ she asked. ‘Because that’s probably more believable than pretending.’
‘Just dance with me,’ I slid my black leather clutch under my arm and pulled her towards the floor. Matthew and Paul followed, Matthew never one to miss an opportunity to get his dance on and Paul presumably sensing an opportunity to touch Emelie up a little bit. As Smokey Robinson blared out of the speakers, conversation was no longer an option, so I closed my eyes and started to move, hoping that Simon was watching. After a decade of dancing together, I could feel Matthew and Emelie without needing to open my eyes. Em was leaning against my back, partly to try to look sexy and partly because she was already too drunk to dance without support. Matthew would have his hands thrown in the air at the side of me, singing along, his fast footwork lost in the throb of bodies. I felt Em drift away and a pair of man hands gripped me around my waist. I put my head down, smiled to myself, not wanting anyone to see and leaned back into Simon’s chest.
‘Hi.’
Of course it wasn’t Simon. It was a complete stranger. And not one you would want touching you. I stopped suddenly, giving him just enough opportunity to spin me around and dip me low on the dance floor. Emelie and Matthew were too busy busting their own moves to notice, and my brother had adopted the official ‘I can’t see this so it isn’t happening’ tactic, as was the way when someone was having a crack at your sister.
‘Oh my god, get off.’ I tried to wriggle free but my suitor must have been almost a foot taller than me. And five stone heavier. He simply picked me up and held me in the air. I placed my hands on his shoulders to steady myself as my shoes slipped off my feet. Which didn’t stop me landing what could have been a very, very painful kick if it had hit two inches to the left.
‘I don’t think so.’ I pulled my hand back and cracked him right across the face. Fair, given that I’d missed the kick to the balls. Another good reason why I had no interest in breaking up with Simon.
Bending down to grab my shoes, I ignored the ‘oohs’ that echoed around me and pushed my way towards the bar just in time to see Simon heading up the stairs, towards the street.
‘Simon!’ I shouted, trying to get my shoes on before I got outside. ‘Wait, Simon!’
‘Rachel?’
I whirled around to see Simon accepting a cigarette from a man I didn’t recognize in the smokers’ corner on the side of the street. He looked surprised to see me. And also a little bit like his form tutor had just caught him out behind the bike sheds. Not the impact I was hoping for.
‘Simon,’ I said, staring at him trying to hide his cigarette behind his back. ‘You’re smoking.’
‘Uh, no, I just, well, one.’ He waved the Marlboro Light around as though it was a magic wand. ‘I had a really shit day. Were you inside?’
‘You, you didn’t see?’ I asked, wrapping my arms around myself. It was a little too cold to be outside without a coat. ‘You didn’t see us dancing?’
‘Dancing?’ Simon looked confused. ‘With who?’
‘No one, not with anyone,’ I said, taking a step towards him. ‘Matthew and Emelie. And Paul.’
He took a step backwards. ‘Right. I didn’t know you’d be here.’
I stood and looked at him for a moment. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. This wasn’t why I’d worn my best underwear. This wasn’t why I’d been through the agony of a bikini wax.
‘Simon, can we talk for a minute?’ I asked, taking another step towards him.
‘Can we do it tomorrow?’ he countered. ‘I know we need to talk about stuff, I’ve just had a really shit day and I’ve been so busy and-—’
‘I haven’t seen you in four weeks.’ I lowered my voice as subtly as possible. ‘Can you give me five minutes?’
‘It’s just because, I think we’re leaving, Mark’s friends are at this other place and we’re probably going to go there …’ He trailed off, looking back towards someone named Mark who still wasn’t looking at me. Whoever Mark was.
‘I just need a minute,’ I said, trying to remember my speech. ‘I wanted to talk about the break thing. I’ve had enough.’
‘Oh.’ He dropped the cigarette and stamped it out. ‘’Oh, OK. Let’s just get it over with then.’
Get it over with?
Before I could start on the next part, he walked over, put his arm over my shoulder and led me over to the railings across the street.
‘I’m sorry I haven’t been around.’ He left his hand on my shoulder for a moment before looking at it and pulling it away, jamming it deep into his pocket. ‘I did want to talk but things have been mental. Work’s mad, I’m training up this new assistant and he’s shit and then there was the stag do and, sorry, I’ll shut up. Shoot.’
‘You wanted to talk?’ I asked, wishing I’d put on lip balm before I came outside. From the corner of my eye, I saw Matthew stick his head out of the door, then slide back in once he’d clocked me. ‘I’ve wanted to talk about it too.’
‘Yeah?’ Simon didn’t look happy. ‘I thought having time away would make this easier. Doesn’t though, does it?’
‘Doesn’t what?’ I rubbed my arms briskly. It really was cold and my bra was not adequately padded enough for such temperatures. ‘Look, Si, like I was saying, I’ve wanted to talk since you left. I think the whole break time thing was totally OK and it??
?s been good to have some space but I’m done with it. The whole break thing.’
‘OK. Good. OK.’ He fumbled around in a pocket for his cigarettes. ‘Is there someone else?’
‘Is there what?’ I pushed my hair back again and tried to ignore Matthew standing across the street, motioning for me to pull it forward. ‘Why would there be …? Look, Simon, I’m over this whole break thing. I just want things back to normal.’
Simon lit another cigarette and looked at the floor. ‘Sorry Rach, I’ve had a couple of drinks, I’m not following. What are you saying?’
‘I don’t want to be on a break.’ I reached over and took the packet of cigarettes out of his hand. ‘Will you look at me, please?’
He inhaled deeply and blew out a long stream of grey smoke, shaking his head. I stepped closer until we were toe to toe and placed my empty hand on his arm, pulling the cigarette away from his mouth.
‘Simon, you don’t smoke.’
‘I smoked before we started going out,’ he said quietly.
‘We’ve been going out for five years,’ I replied in a voice just as hushed but, regardless of volume control, I could see a small audience with ears pricked across the street.
Suddenly our private conversation felt very public.
‘Five years is a long time.’ Simon pulled his arm away from me, stepped back and took another drag. ‘And I don’t want to be on a break either. So we’re agreed that the break isn’t working.’
‘Simon, I’m really not following,’ I was totally lost. This was really, really not how this was supposed to go. We were supposed to be halfway to doing something indecent in the back of a taxi by now, not rambling in the middle of the street while Matthew pretended not to be watching from the doorway of the club. And, oh brilliant, Em was there as well. At least Paul had stayed downstairs – oh, wait a minute, nope, there he was. Just what I needed.
‘I know I haven’t dealt with the whole break-up very well, but I don’t want to make it any harder than it is already.’ Simon shrugged. ‘It’s not been easy for me either, you know.’
‘What are you talking about?’ I grabbed his arm tight and got as close to his face as was humanly possible given his cigarette breath. This was supposed to be seductive, not confusing and gross. ‘Can we please just go home?’
‘I’m not coming home.’ He shook off my arm and stepped backwards. ‘This isn’t a break, Rachel.’
Simon looked pale and awkward and it didn’t really matter how cold it was any more.
‘I don’t want to be on a break because I want to be with you,’ I said softly, staring steadily at his shoes. ‘It’s just a break. We’re not, you know, we’re not. Not on a break.’
For a few moments, he didn’t say anything. I didn’t say anything. Across the street, I could hear people talking, laughing, even some shouting a couple of doors down, but it seemed as if it was miles away. I coughed, just to check I could still make noise.
‘Simon, I love you.’
Nothing.
‘Simon?’
Still nothing.
I pressed my lips together to try and stop the tears that were tickling the corners of my eyes, blurring the bright red postbox into a red slash to the side of me.
‘Simon, please.’ I tried to keep my voice even but I was having enough trouble getting the words out at all. ‘You’re my boyfriend.’
Simon took one last drag, dropped the cigarette butt and ground it into the pavement with a brown leather shoe I didn’t recognize. Looking up at the sky, he blew out his breath loudly.
‘You’re not the one.’
I folded my arms tightly, pressing my fingernails into my bare arms.
‘I’m sorry, Rachel,’ he said, looking quickly back down at the street. Anywhere but at me. ‘I’m wasting your time. You’re not the one.’
‘I’m not …’ I cleared my throat and started again. ‘I’m not the one?’
‘No,’ Simon replied.
‘Is someone else the one?’ I asked, afraid to hear the answer. ‘Are you … is there …?’
‘No,’ he said, finally looking somewhere just to the right of my nose. Still not quite at my eyes. ‘Honest. It’s just, I thought about it and I care about you, I do, you’re just not the one. We’re not going to work out in the end.’
‘Any reason in particular?’ I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. ‘What did I do?’
‘You didn’t do anything,’ he shrugged. ‘I just woke up one day and I knew. I thought the break would help but …’
‘You thought the break would be easier than out-and-out breaking up with me,’ I revised for him. ‘And that I would get the hint or something?’
‘I’m sorry, I haven’t done this very well.’ He went back to his pocket for the cigarettes but they were still in my hand. Impetuously, I threw them into the road and under a car. ‘Rachel, I just don’t, I’m not, god this is shit. I’ll always love you, I’m just not, you know.’
‘I don’t know actually.’ I shook my head and felt my hair fall around my shoulders. ‘Because I love you.’
‘Jesus, Rach.’ Simon reached an arm out towards my bare shoulder and laid his hand against my skin. It should have felt warm and reassuring but instead it stung. ‘I’m sorry.’ He pulled his hand away and shoved it back into his empty pocket.
I took a step backwards, blinking until the tears slipped over my eyelids and ran down my cheeks. At least I wasn’t wearing any mascara. Nothing like panda eyes to make a girl look utterly pathetic. I looked at him. His short dark-blond hair was darker in the streetlight and his eyes were red and tired. The strangest thing was looking at his lips. And letting the fact that I wouldn’t be kissing them ever again settle in my mind. They were off-limits. He was off-limits. No longer mine. Another step back and I took him in completely. All five feet nine of ex-boyfriend. Ex. What a horrible sound. This wasn’t my Simon; this was a stranger. I stepped back again, stumbling off the kerb and into the road.
‘Rachel!’ Someone shouted sharply and I turned around just in time to see a black cab whirr past me, beeping his horn, the driver shouting something like ‘stupid cow’ out of the window. Even though I was still standing in the road, I couldn’t seem to move. Instead, I sat down. Which seemed like a sensible idea.
‘Rachel,’ another voice said, softer this time but closer. I felt several arms wrap around me and pull me to my feet before hearing raised voices and scuffling behind me.
‘Get her in a cab,’ Matthew’s voice commanded someone. ‘I’ll sort these two out.’
I was more interested in my shoes. I loved these shoes. How long had Simon had those brown shoes? How come I hadn’t seen them before? He’d probably bought them earlier – only a boy would go out dancing on a Friday night in new shoes without knowing whether or not they’d rub. Which of course they would; all of his shoes rubbed.
‘Rachel, are you OK?’ Em’s voiced asked.
I nodded.
‘Me and Matthew are coming home with you.’ Her voice was coming from somewhere above me but I couldn’t quite focus on it.
I shook my head.
‘Yes, we are.’
‘No,’ I said steadily. ‘I just want to go home and sleep. Really. Just come over in the morning. I’ll need you in the morning.’
‘I really think we should come home with you, just me or just Matthew, whoever you want. This is not open for discussion.’
I shook my head again and stretched my arm out to an approaching black cab. ‘I’m fine.’
Before she could do anything, I shook Emelie off and opened the cab door, slamming it shut behind me, hitting my leg in the process. I didn’t feel it.
‘Amwell Street, Islington?’ I leaned forward until I saw the driver nod and then slouched back while he did a U-turn. Out of the window, I saw Emelie throwing her hands up at Matthew who was holding his own hands over his face. Behind them, Paul was holding his nose but I couldn’t see Simon. Until we stopped at a traffic light. Then I spotted him. On
the floor at Paul’s feet with Mark the Stranger at the side of him.
Well, would you look at that?
CHAPTER THREE
By the time the cab dropped me off at home, I’d replayed our conversation over in my head so many times, it felt like something that had happened to someone else, or that I’d seen on TV. The exact words used were hazy, each gesture exaggerated or traded in for something that didn’t happen, but the end result was always the same, no matter how many times I ran through it. I’m not the one. He doesn’t love me. He doesn’t want me.
It took me far too long to get my keys in the door, and when I finally managed to force my way in, I flipped on the lights only to illuminate five years of happy memories lining our hallway. Holiday snaps, concert tickets, napkins from restaurants, postcards from holidays, everything we’d collected over the duration of our relationship, mounted, framed, hung, down to the receipt for the drinks on our first date. He’d kept that and given it to me the day we’d moved in together. There was no way this was actually happening.
Exhausted, I turned the light out and turned into the bedroom, kicking off my shoes and scrambling out of my vest and jeans as I went. I’d made the bed before I left, hoping to be falling into it with Simon and not tearstains and a scraped knee. Despite the fact that I’d been sleeping on my own for a few weeks, this was the first night since ‘the break’ that I’d felt lonely. This was the first time I was alone. I swapped my uncomfortable underwear for an old T-shirt of Simon’s that I kept hidden inside my pillowcase along with a dodgy old pair of boxer shorts that had no elastic left. I lay on my back and stared at the ceiling, Simon’s words buzzing through my brain as if I’d left the TV on. Sleep wasn’t coming but the most ridiculous things kept popping into my mind. My credit card payment was due. I still had two episodes of Glee to watch on Sky Plus and it was running out of memory. Tonight would be the first night I hadn’t washed my face in over four years. This was why I had to write lists. Regardless of my relationship status, no one wanted to work with a spotty make-up artist. I slid off the bed, hitching up the baggy boxers as I went.