The Night That Changed Everything Page 9

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really. You’re good for her. A couple of years ago it was just work, work, work with Rebecca.’

  ‘And now it’s just work, work?’

  ‘Pretty much.’ He laughs. ‘Seriously, though – you’re good for each other.’

  If it was daytime the buildings opposite would be reflected blurrily in the Thames like Impressionist versions of themselves, but the sky has faded to an orangey black, and everyone has switched on their lights, so the reflections have been replaced by long streaks of light in the water, as though each building was a rocket taking off with a trail of fire. I never really noticed buildings before I got together with Rebecca, but her pointing out their features and explaining the idea behind their designs has apparently rubbed off.

  ‘I was going to ask her to marry me.’

  Jamie pulls his feet up and adjusts his position so he is facing me, legs crossed. ‘What did you just say?’

  ‘I bought a ring.’

  ‘You did not buy a ring.’

  I confirm my folly with a laboured nod.

  ‘Why the fuck am I only finding out about this now?’

  ‘I thought you’d think I was an idiot.’

  ‘Well . . .’

  I look down at the reflection of my shoes in the water. ‘I applied for a loan the day after we got back from Beachy Head.’

  Jamie locks his hands behind his neck and brings his elbows together.

  ‘Jeez,’ he says, still looking like he can’t quite believe it. ‘So when were you gonna do it – when are you going to do it?’

  ‘I didn’t know – don’t know.’ I shake my can to assess how much is left, then down the dregs and reach for another. ‘I knew how, though.’

  Jamie accepts the can I hold out, pulling the tab.

  ‘She found a ring, when we went to Beachy Head, outside the pub. We handed it in at the bar. That’s when it came to me. I’d take her back there. She’d said about staying at the B and B. Her mum stayed there. So we’d go and have another picnic and everything would be exactly the same, right down to the hip flask . . .’ Jamie smiles. The hip flask was his idea. ‘And again she’d find a ring by the wonky pub sign, except this time we wouldn’t hand it in to the landlord.’

  ‘How would you get it there?’

  ‘I was gonna go there without Rebecca knowing, a couple of days before. I’d give the landlord the ring to plant before we got there. Then I was gonna lead Rebecca towards the pub, and when she found the ring she’d be like, What the fuck? And that’s when I’d get down on one knee.’

  Jamie lays a hand on his chest. ‘I’m choking up here, Nicholls.’

  ‘I’d obviously make sure no one else was around when I did it – you know what she’s like.’

  ‘Nah, fuck that – get a dance troupe to serenade her and film it for YouTube.’

  I laugh. ‘Can you imagine her face?’

  ‘She’d never speak to you again.’

  I sigh. ‘She might never speak to me again anyway.’

  I bury my head in my hands, and when I look up again Jamie has returned to his previous position, legs dangling. ‘You know when you walk anywhere with Rebecca and you can’t tell her to slow down – you just have to wait for her to wear herself out?’

  I nod, unsure where he’s heading.

  ‘That’s what this is. I get why she’s pissed off. I would be. But the anger – she’ll wear herself out with it.’

  For some reason I find myself thinking about the Chas ’n’ Dave disc on his living-room wall. He made me listen to one of their albums once after I dismissed them as a comedy act. And you know what? They’re actually all right. Their songs are happy, uncomplicated, but when you listen to them, their lyrics are full of wisdom. And that’s Jamie to a tee. But what if this time he’s wrong?

  ‘Thanks for taking the night off, mate.’ I look at him. ‘And ta for letting me kip on your couch, and the clothes.’

  He bats away the sentiment with his hand.

  ‘People at work keep saying how smart I look.’

  ‘That’s because your work clothes are scruffy.’

  ‘Are they fuck!’

  ‘They are. It’s your way of rebelling against the system.’ He points at the bit of untucked shirt. ‘I bet that’s been like that all day, hasn’t it?’

  I laugh until I feel his hand reach under the loose bit of shirt. He pinches the top of my boxers.

  ‘Just checking you haven’t been borrowing my pants,’ he says.

  I elbow him away.

  ‘I mean, I love you, but—’

  ‘I bought some new ones on my lunch break yesterday.’

  All this talk of boxers reminds me that he could have pulled a girl he’s fancied for ages last night.

  ‘Sorry I stopped you bringing Tidy Tania back.’

  Jamie chuckles drily. ‘I wouldn’t have brought her back anyway.’ He downs the last of his second can and takes the keys from his pocket, spinning them around his index finger. ‘She’s only just split up with her boyfriend – she’s too vulnerable.’

  ‘Rebecca’s right about you, Hawley.’

  He demands an explanation with his eyes.

  ‘She says you’re all talk when it comes to women.’

  Jamie smiles to himself as he isolates the key to his apartment and places a hand on my shoulder. ‘You coming?’

  ‘I’ll follow you up in a minute.’

  I watch him disappear into the building, waiting until I can no longer see his silhouette behind the darkened glass of the main doors before dialling her number. I wait again, for the line to connect, and finally it rings, once, twice, three times.

  You’ve reached the voicemail of Rebecca Giamboni.

  Maybe it’s the beer, but I have to take the phone away from my ear. The sound of her voice has caused another knot to form in my stomach, and for the first time an unbearable thought starts to blossom in my mind.

  What if Voicemail Rebecca is all I get now?

  Chapter Ten

  REBECCA

  Thursday, 6 November

  The buzzer goes. That’ll be my curry.

  ‘Ciao!’ Stefan greets me as I pull open the door. ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘What’s happening,’ I tell my brother, ‘is that I’ve had a mental day at work and I’m starving and I thought you were my dinner and you’re not, and now I hate you.’ I cross my arms. ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘Meeting a mate in Greenwich for a drink so I thought I’d drop off your housewarming gift.’ He holds out a WH Smith bag. ‘And your warm welcome has confirmed it was definitely the right decision.’

  ‘I’ve lived here for nearly five years, Stefan.’

  ‘I know, but you’ve never lived with a boyfriend. It’s a big deal.’

  ‘Oh,’ I mumble, taking the bag and pulling out the book inside, pursing my lips as I read the cover. ‘Delia’s How to Cheat at Cooking?’

  ‘I like Ben,’ he says by way of an explanation. ‘I don’t want you to scare him off.’

  I turn away and move towards the sofa but he must catch the look on my face.

  ‘Rebecca? What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing.’ I move the case to The Killing DVD off the sofa so he can sit next to me. I’d actually been hovering dangerously on the verge of watching it. I know I’m mad at Ben but it still feels wrong to break the cardinal rule of not going ahead in a boxset we’ve started together.

  Stefan sits and looks around. ‘Where’s Ben?’

  ‘Oh, um, he’s . . .’ I get up and pour us both a whisky from the decanter on my bureau, just so I can keep my back to him. ‘We’re kind of on a break. Drink?’

  ‘Why?’ he cries. ‘What did you do?’

  ‘What makes you think I did anything?’ I spin round, angry at the injustice. ‘If you must know, I kicked him out when I found out he slept with Danielle.’

  Stefan gasps then stands up and heads for the door. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Stefan!’
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  ‘No one hurts my sister and gets away with it.’

  ‘Oh, calm the feck down,’ I tell him, dragging him back towards the sofa. I don’t point out that Ben would wipe the floor with him in a fight.

  ‘That bastard,’ he mutters, grabbing one of the glasses I’d put down on the coffee table. ‘He seemed such a lovely bloke. I never had him down for a cheat. And with your best mate!’

  ‘Well, he didn’t cheat exactly,’ I admit. ‘But yes! What a bastard!’

  ‘What do you mean? I thought you said—’

  ‘I did – I said he slept with Danielle,’ I say, taking a casual sip of my whisky. ‘It was before we started going out.’

  He looks confused. ‘So why have you kicked him out, exactly?’

  ‘I only just found out.’

  ‘Right. But still, why have you kicked him out exactly?’

  ‘He never told me!’

  ‘I get that. But, at the risk of repeating myself: why have you—’

  ‘Oi, whose side are you on?’ I hit him with a cushion. ‘What happened to not letting anyone hurt your sister?’

  Just then the buzzer goes. ‘That’ll be my curry.’

  Stefan goes to the window and peers out. ‘Nope, it’s a guy but he’s not holding a curry.’

  ‘Shit.’ I jump up. ‘Is it Ben?’ I’ve been ignoring all his calls and texts – of course he’d come over to try to talk.

  ‘Nope, I don’t think so. No, wait – it’s that fit mate of yours who runs the bar.’

  I run to the window and peer out to see the top of Jamie’s perfectly styled messy bed-head. I buzz him in.

  ‘Hi, Becs.’ He greets me when he reaches the top of the stairs. ‘You been avoiding me?’

  ‘No,’ I grumble. ‘I’ve been avoiding your mates.’

  ‘Our mates,’ he says, making a beeline for the decanter and slapping Stefan’s bicep on the way past. ‘All right, mate? Long time no see.’

  ‘Hi, Jamie.’

  ‘Top-up, anyone?’ Jamie holds out the decanter.

  ‘Definitely,’ I say, presenting my glass. No prizes for guessing what Jamie’s here to talk about.

  ‘Not for me, ta,’ says Stefan, standing. ‘I need to go meet my friend. But will you do something about that?’ He waves a hand in my direction. ‘It’s all overreacty.’

  Jamie nods. ‘That’s why I’m here.’

  ‘I am not overreacting,’ I protest.

  ‘You are,’ says Stefan. ‘It doesn’t sound like a big deal.’

  ‘It’s really not,’ agrees Jamie.

  ‘No offence, but you,’ I point at Jamie, ‘have slept with half the women in London, and you,’ I point at Stefan, ‘have slept with half the men. Of course you think it’s no big deal.’

  They both puff their chests out proudly.

  ‘Why would she think that would offend us?’ Stefan asks Jamie.

  ‘I’ve no idea.’

  Stefan says his farewells and I see him out, and when I get back Jamie is on the sofa, one arm sprawled along the back and his feet crossed on my coffee table, like he’s modelling furniture.

  ‘You here to get some clothes for Ben?’ I ask.

  ‘Nah, he looks much better in mine.’ He leans forward and picks up my keys off the coffee table, twirling the tiny crisp bag in his hands with a thoughtful expression. I know he’s thinking about when Danielle gave it to me, when we were all here together.

  ‘Don’t,’ I warn him when he goes to speak.

  ‘What?’ he asks innocently. ‘I was just going to ask if you knew exactly why it shrunk.’

  ‘Danielle looked at it and it shrivelled up?’

  Now it’s his turn to say Don’t.

  ‘Go on then,’ I say, dropping sideways on to the sofa.

  ‘Well,’ he says, twisting to face me. ‘The plastic is made up of long molecules called polymers – a bit like strings of beads. In crisp bags these chains of molecules are stretched out almost straight.’ He looks at me to make sure I’m following. ‘Heating it in the microwave gives the molecules energy so they start to vibrate and curl up. The bag shrinks and gets stiffer because all the polymer chains have curled over each other.’ He chucks me the keyring, proud of himself.

  ‘Amazing,’ I tell him, studying the crisp bag then turning my gaze towards him. ‘Tell me, have the movie rights been snapped up yet?’

  He kicks my shin playfully then takes a sip of his drink.

  ‘This is nice enough,’ he tells me, ‘but when are we opening the thirty-year-old Glenfiddich?’

  ‘Told you, I’m saving it for a special occasion.’

  ‘How about to celebrate the moment you let Ben come home?’

  ‘That moment might never come.’

  I get up to refill our drinks.

  ‘Don’t say that.’ Jamie rubs the scar above his left eyebrow he got when he was run over as a kid. That small gesture is the only way you’ll ever tell if Jamie’s feeling distressed. ‘I feel like my parents might be getting a divorce.’ He laughs humourlessly. ‘In fact, that would have far less of an impact on my life.’

  ‘As long as you know, it’s nothing that you did. We both still love you very much.’

  ‘Seriously, though,’ he continues, ‘I get why you’re upset. It must have come as a shock. But you and Ben hadn’t even started seeing each other then. You can’t be mad at something he did before you were together.’

  ‘It’s not about the fact they slept together,’ I explain. It kind of is, but I realize that’s irrational. ‘It’s about the lies.’

  And I don’t just mean about him lying by omission by not volunteering the information. On the night we met, he told me outright that he didn’t fancy her. Yet he’d already slept with her. He acted like I was the only girl in the room, but it was utter bollocks.

  ‘What if he still likes her?’ I ask weakly. ‘You know Ben. He’s not exactly a one-night-stand sort of guy. That’s your forte. And Danielle’s. He was obviously interested, and you can’t just turn that off because the other person’s not.’

  Jamie laughs. ‘This is Ben we’re talking about – of course he can lose interest in an instant. Remember astronomy? Rock climbing? Cycling?’ Jamie waves a hand in the general direction of the hall, where Ben’s seldom-used bike still sits. ‘Buddhism? Jeez, think about it, Becs – they’re fleeting fixations. Learning Mandarin? Photography? Is he the new Chinese-speaking David Bailey? No – he lost interest as quickly as he took it up. You know what he’s never lost interest in, though? You.’

  ‘Yes, but what if liking Danielle didn’t go away?’ I demand, agitated that Jamie is sticking up for Ben. ‘What if the only reason he gave up on it was because she wasn’t interested. Jamie, HE FUCKED HER.’

  ‘Stop shouting.’

  ‘I’M NOT SHOUTING,’ I shout. ‘Look,’ I continue with forced control, ‘I know you thought you were certain about mine and Ben’s future. I felt certain about it too. But I also felt certain about our past. That we met and we instantly connected and it was meant to be and blah blah blah.’ I take a deep breath, trying to steady my voice. ‘Ben can sit there and say that’s all in the past, but he’s the one that’s always banging on about how important history is. This changes our history.’

  ‘I’m just saying, cut him some slack,’ Jamie says gently. ‘Let’s say you and I had slept with each other before you two got together . . .’

  I cackle then see Jamie’s mouth form into a pout.

  ‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘Carry on.’

  ‘Say we slept together, and it didn’t mean anything, and then you and Ben got it on, and you knew that telling him about me would put him off, would you tell him?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Well, maybe not right away, but I would eventually.’

  ‘When? There’s never a good time to drop into conversation something you think is going to hurt someone.’

  ‘That doesn’t excuse him keeping secrets from me.’

 
‘Doesn’t it?’ he challenges. ‘Look, whether or not keeping it from you was the right thing to do isn’t for me to say. But you can’t argue that the reasons behind it were good ones. Ben didn’t want to hurt you. He didn’t want to damage your relationship with Danielle. And most of all, he didn’t want to give you a reason not to be with him. He’s crazy about you.’ He sighs. ‘More than I think you realize.’

  I think about what he’s saying because it’s Jamie, and he’s rarely wrong about stuff. Would I have gone out with Ben if I’d known he’d already slept with Danielle? Hell, no. Has there ever been a time when he could have told me and I wouldn’t have been upset? Probably not. My life was better when I didn’t know that Ben has seen Danielle naked.

  ‘You’ve always said he makes you feel special,’ Jamie reminds me. ‘Think about the things that happened since you got together, not the things that happened before it.’

  I close my eyes and think of Beachy Head, and how perfect it was.

  ‘OK, fine,’ I mutter eventually.

  ‘OK, fine, you’ll let Ben come home?’

  ‘OK, fine, I’ll talk to him.’

  ‘It’s a start.’ Jamie grins, patting my shoulder. ‘By the way,’ he adds, folding an arm behind his head and leaning back into the sofa, ‘you would be lucky to sleep with me. I’m incredible.’

  The buzzer goes. ‘That better be my frigging curry,’ I groan, running for the door.

  Chapter Eleven

  BEN

  Friday, 7 November

  The Tube brakes abruptly between Green Park and Hyde Park Corner, where I get off for work. I’m standing in the rush-hour crush, and the momentum sends the dotty-looking woman next to me chest-first into a man with bushy sideburns. She apologizes but Sideburns doesn’t acknowledge it.

  I figure we must be waiting for a signal to change or something but a couple of minutes later we still haven’t moved. People start to look up from their phones and huff, and Dotty Woman is peering around the carriage through her oversized glasses as though looking for some kind of explanation.

  When she turns my way I see she is chewing her lips and has gone white.

  ‘You OK?’ I ask her.

  ‘Just a bit claustrophobic,’ she says, eyes flicking to somewhere over my shoulder. ‘I have this recurring dream where I’m trapped in one of these things, and when I ask people how we’re going to get out they ignore me.’