I Could Love You (13 page)

‘You have to come,’ says Carrie, indignant. ‘It’s what we do.’

Jack shrugs. His lack of loyalty to family tradition enrages Carrie.

‘So you don’t want presents and you don’t want a Christmas tree. What do you want?’

I want Chloe Redknapp. Only he doesn’t say it aloud.

His phone rings. He pulls it out and checks the screen and can’t believe what he sees. It’s Chloe Redknapp calling. Like a magic trick. Think of a card, here it is. From desire to reality in one easy bound. Big surprise.

He goes upstairs to the privacy of his room to take the call. His family probably think it’s Hannah. Let them.

It’s Chloe, miraculously making the first move.

‘Hey, Jack. You busy?’

‘Not exactly.’

‘Any chance we could meet up? There’s something I want to ask you.’

‘Sure. Why not?’

‘You drive, right?’

‘Yes.’

‘Any chance you could come over to Plumpton? I’ve still not passed my test.’

‘When?’

‘Now.’

With these few words Chloe turns Jack’s life around. By some mysterious mechanism his own longings have generated this phone call. He has willed Chloe into his life.

‘I suppose I could,’ he says, faking reluctance.

‘Meet me at the pub. You know the Half Moon?’

‘Sure.’

‘See you there in what? Twenty minutes?’

Jack goes back downstairs in a daze of excitement.

‘Mum, can I take the car?’

‘Take it where? What about supper?’

A wave of irrational but violent anger surges through him.

‘I don’t want any supper. Stop trying to run my life.’

‘But you have to eat, darling.’

‘I won’t die. Just leave it alone, okay?’

He sees the hurt in his mother’s eyes and hates himself because he knows she only wants what’s best for him. But she doesn’t know and he’s not telling and that’s how it is.

‘What’s the matter with you, Jack?’ His father gets in on the act, defending his mother. ‘It’s impossible saying anything to you these days. You’re not the only one having a hard time, you know.’

‘Yes, okay. I’m sorry. Can I take the car?’

You want me to lighten up, give me the fucking car. Chloe is waiting for me.

‘What for?’

‘To meet a friend. So I have a life. Or is one of you going to drive me?’

All those years of being driven to friends’ houses to play. Nothing changes.

‘Well, I suppose so, darling.’ This is his mother. ‘Will you be back late?’

‘I don’t know. Why does it matter?’

She sighs and gives in, as he always knew she would. It’s both comforting and scary, knowing your parents can be bent to your will. No time to chew on that one.

He takes the despised Smart car which actually is excitingly nippy once you’re in the driving seat. A new stretch of road has been built that swoops over the railway line, past the dog kennels, to the Lewes roundabout. In the orange light of Cuilfail tunnel he puzzles over what Chloe Redknapp can want from him. Whatever it is, there are others she could have turned to. Why him?

Everyone’s heard the stories about Chloe. How she lost her virginity on her fifteenth birthday for a bet. How she performed a striptease at a charity fundraiser with the bids rising as her clothes came off.

You don’t call someone you hardly know and ask them to come on over now unless you want to make something happen.

Maybe she picks boys up on impulse. Maybe she just likes the idea of having fun with a virtual stranger. She can play with me if she likes. I’m not proud.

Up the silent High Street and out past the hospital. On the main road the Chalk Pit Inn is a blaze of lights between the leafless winter trees. Just past the garage the left turn into the narrow winding road to Plumpton.

The car park of the Half Moon is surprisingly full. Inside, the bar is crowded. No sign of Chloe. He got here faster than he thought he would. Girls always come late, they hate to sit in pubs alone.

He gets himself a beer and settles down at a table beside the Christmas tree. It’s quite a big tree, generously draped with gold and silver tinsel. A large party of staff from the agricultural college are laughing loudly nearby, taking pictures of each other on their phones and passing them round.

Jack realizes how hungry he is. He’s about to get up and buy a packet of crisps from the bar when Chloe appears. She’s wearing a heavy-knit navy blue jumper that comes almost to her knees, and a bright red scarf right up to her nose. Her eyes are smiling at him.

‘Christ it’s cold!’ she says, unwinding the scarf. Golden hair spills out like tinsel. ‘You’re looking good, Jack. Hey, look at your hair. Very retro.’

He pushes his fingers through his hair, blushing.

‘I never know what to do with it.’

‘So how’s Cambridge? Is everyone there really brainy, like you?’

The rush of speech leaves Jack a little breathless. But then Chloe reaches out and puts her hand on his arm.

‘Good place for nerd-spotting, right?’ she says, touching him, giving him a radiant smile. Suddenly he feels that whatever he says will be right.

‘Oh, definitely. We all wear spectacles and our trousers are too short and we sit in libraries all day.’

Chloe laughs.

‘Ri-i-ight! So really you’re hopped up and fucking your mighty brains out.’

‘If only. Is that how it is down your way?’

‘Exeter is Dullsville Central. Nobody has any brains to fuck out. Myself included.’

Enchanted, he gets her a drink at the bar. Vodka and Coke. They sit by the Christmas tree grinning at each other.

‘So what’s the story on the girlfriend front?’ Chloe says.

‘Not great. I was with someone in the summer, but we broke up a while back.’

He says it with an easy smile, as if the decision was mutual. Painless.

‘So you’re available. That’s perfect.’ Not exactly Jack’s experience: but it’s refreshing to have it presented in this way. Chloe’s eyes have never left him for one second. He feels intoxicated. If it wasn’t so totally unlikely he’d say Chloe is flirting with him.

‘Do you ever meet up with the old crowd from Underhill?’ she says.

‘Not really.’

‘I met Alice Dickinson on the train down. Do you remember Alice?’

‘Just about. Her mum married Mr Strachan, didn’t she?’

‘She remembers you.’

Jack can think of nothing to say to this. He’s not interested in Alice Dickinson. He’s interested in Chloe.

‘So how about you?’ he offers. ‘How’s your love life?’

‘Oh, insane as usual. I met this boy called Hal and I decided he was the love of my life but now I think maybe he’s a bit of a tit.’

‘Sounds like you’re available, too.’

‘That’s me. Always available. Why not? I’m only nineteen. I’m not about to settle down, for fuck’s sake. So if I’m not settling down I’m available, right? Not exactly rocket science. But certain people don’t seem to get the message. It’s not as if I’m asking them to be saints in shining armour. Why can’t everyone just lighten up?’

Jack smiles and nods, struck by the obvious wisdom of this attitude. We’re young. Live for the moment. Just lighten up. As uttered by Chloe, wriggling on a barstool before him in a way that makes him acutely aware of her body, it has the force of revelation.

‘You should meet up with Alice,’ says Chloe. ‘You’d like her.’

‘Alice?’

‘Yes, Alice. Remember? We were talking about her. Oh, maybe ten or twelve seconds ago.’

‘Then we were talking about you.’

‘Oh, you don’t want to talk about me.’

‘Why not? You are sitting here, in front of me.’

‘I’m not your type at all. I’m far too empty-headed.’

‘Oh, sure. I bet you secretly believe you know what’s going on better than anyone.’

‘Well, yes.’ She opens her blue eyes very wide. ‘How did you guess? Can you read my mind?’

‘Everyone secretly believes that.’

Her pretty lips curl into a slow smile.

‘Aren’t you the clever one.’

She finishes her vodka and Coke, still smiling at him.

‘You want another drink?’ he says.

‘No, I’m supposed to be getting back for dinner. My first day home.’

‘God, I’ve been home for days.’

‘So you’ve got plenty of time on your hands.’

‘You could say that.’

‘Why don’t we meet up in Lewes for lunch sometime?’

Jack is astonished all over again, but he’s careful not to show it.

‘Sure. I’d like that.’

‘I’m meeting Alice on Sunday. Harvey’s at one o’clock. You could join us.’

So it’s not quite the hot date it looked like for one shining moment, but it’s a start.

‘Seems like you and Alice have turned into best friends.’

‘She’s really interesting, you know? You’ll see when you meet her.’

She looks round and catches sight of the clock over the bar.

‘Shit! I have to go.’

She jumps up and starts muffling herself up with her scarf.

‘So Sunday, okay?’

‘Okay.’

‘Thanks for driving over. If I ever pass my test I’ll do the same for you.’

‘No sweat.’

She gives him a peck on the cheek, her face warm against his.

‘I really have to run.’

Jack drives home more slowly than he came, absorbing the implications of their brief meeting. Chloe asked him if he was single. She made sure he knew she herself was available. She fixed for them to meet again. All that points one way, doesn’t it?

So where does Alice Dickinson come in?

Suppose Chloe’s got the idea that she might like him, but isn’t quite sure. It would make sense for her to make a date for lunchtime, to check him out, and to bring along a friend. That’s what girls do.

This explanation fits all the facts but one. Why should Chloe show this sudden interest in him? Such a thing has never happened to Jack before. He just isn’t the sort that girls go after, not like this. With Hannah it took weeks. Even then he found it hard to believe she wanted more than friendship.

But Chloe plays a different game. She just wants to have fun.

Jack feels it then, like the approach of a warm wind. What if it could really happen? Teasing and smiling, touching and kissing, no talk about for ever, Chloe in his arms.

Oh yes, I’d like that. I’d go for that. Nothing grand, nothing serious, just fooling around till the real thing comes along. Or returns. Secretly he hasn’t given up on that possibility. Maybe Chloe is just what he needs, to win Hannah back. If some of Chloe’s casual way of love rubs off on him it would take the pressure off and then Hannah could love him again. Cruel that people only love you if you don’t love them too much. Loving too much makes you needy. You become passive. You look for ways to please her, you want to do what she wants, you stop caring about your own desires because you have only the one desire, for her to stay with you. So she goes. Your love is selfless, sacrificial, perfect. So she goes.

Was I too passive with Chloe? He reruns their meeting in the pub and it seems to him he let her make all the moves. Apart from when I did my mind-reading thing. She liked that. She’s not the airhead she likes to make out she is. Maybe I was too ready to agree to everything. I could have said I wasn’t available Sunday lunchtime, except I am. I could have told her not to bring Alice, except what right do I have to tell her what to do?

Face it, I’m not the forceful type. I’m not her type at all. But she called me. She asked me to drive all the way to Plumpton. For what? A bit of Christmas cheer? Christ knows I could do with that.

When he gets home he finds the rest of the family are eating supper. He’s still starving.

‘We didn’t wait,’ says his mother. ‘You said you didn’t want supper.’

‘No problem,’ says Jack. ‘I’ll get myself some bread or something.’

‘Don’t be silly.’

So he gets himself a plate and there’s plenty of pasta left. It smells wonderful.

‘Where have you been?’ says Carrie.

‘Checking in with a friend.’

He starts eating.

‘Not really good enough, Jack,’ says his father. He’s using his disappointed voice. ‘No one’s forcing you to eat with us, but you can’t just come and go as you please.’

‘Right,’ says Jack.

His mother watches him eating.

‘Are you all right, darling?’

‘I’m fine,’ says Jack. ‘Me and Hannah split up.’

‘When?’

‘Weeks ago.’

They all stare at him. So that’s it: now they know. It doesn’t seem such a big deal any more. He’s seeing Chloe again on Sunday.

‘I’m sorry,’ says his mother. ‘I liked Hannah.’

‘Why?’ says Carrie accusingly, as if once again Jack has failed to respect the family tradition.

‘I’m only nineteen, for God’s sake,’ says Jack. ‘I’m not about to settle down. Just lighten up.’

14

Tom pours another glass of red wine for Belinda, and one for himself. Chloe is back, upstairs in her room, but she’ll be down any minute. By an unspoken accord they’re both concealing what has happened from Chloe. Belinda has repaired the damage to her face so Chloe won’t know she’s been crying. Tom has cleared up the red cabbage, or at least, he tried to. Apparently he was doing it wrong because Belinda took over, pushing him angrily out of the way.

‘Not like that!’ she said. ‘You can’t pick it up with a wooden spoon!’

Now she’s banging a bag of frozen peas on the work surface to loosen them up. She’s not looking at him but she’s not crying any more.

What am I supposed to do now?

Tom feels aggrieved even though he’s the guilty party. He’s not stupid, he knows that’s illegitimate, even outrageous, but it’s how he feels. He’s confessed his crime, he’s promised restitution. He’s promised his little fling is over, which by the way is something of a wrench, but he’s not allowed to present that in mitigation. Now what does he have to do?

The truth is he’s frightened. He doesn’t want his marriage to be over. He wants to say, ‘I still love you’, but he feels as if he no longer has that right.

Chloe comes bouncing in. She comes to him for a kiss.

‘Dad! I’ve hardly had a chance to say hello.’

He hugs her. He admires her.

‘So how’s your term been, darling? Are you a star?’