Ralph's Party (19 page)

Siobhan was smiling now through her tears, a soft spot in the pit of her bely aching with pleasure.

'I don't want you any less, Siobhan, if anything I want you more.

That night, that night when al this started, after the drinks at the Sol y Sombra, I wanted you more then than I can ever remember, more than when we first met.'

Oh, yes - that night. Siobhan had to tackle this now, while she was feeling able to talk honestly. She took a breath.

'Karl — about that night. I want to explain/

He held her hand encouragingly.

She continued. It was that girl, that Cheri girl — you know, the one who lives upstairs. Wel. When I saw her there at your drinks party and she looked so young and slim and beautiful and you were obviously so ... so in awe of her, I just felt realy inadequate and ugly, and later, when you were, you know, trying to make love to me, I just kept thinking that you wanted me to be her, that you were imagining I was her, that I was young and slender and smooth and

... and ... and that's why I pushed you off me - I just couldn't bear it. I felt so hideous — like a freak, like a whore or something, like a great fat whore. I thought that that was why you were being so passionate, because you were turned on thinking about her, not me, and - oh, God - does this al sound realy pathetic?'

Karl felt sick. What had he done? He was to blame. Why had he ever gone within a mile of that horrible, horrible bitch? He had the most wonderful girlfriend imaginable, a girlfriend who loved him and trusted him and cared for him. And his selfish, pathetic actions had forced her into the arms of another man. In a way he deserved this.

He'd been plagued with guilt for months now, for what he'd done to Siobhan. It was time he paid the price for his treachery, his deceit.

'No ... no,' he sighed, puling her to him. 'It doesn't sound pathetic, not at al pathetic. I'm the pathetic one, Siobhan, not you.'

'What do you mean?' asked Siobhan.

'Nothing. Nothing. Just that you've always been the strongest one.

Always. I've leant on you through the years, relied on you. It was you who made al the best decisions in our relationship. If it wasn't for you we'd stil be living in that grotty bedsit in Brighton, I'd stil be trying to be a rock star, playing to a bunch of pissed eighteen-year-old students in a stinking union bar knee-deep in snakebite and vomit, convincing myself I was enjoying it, that I was living some sort of worthwhile life. You made me grow up. I'm a better person because of you, Siobhan. And I promise you, realy, realy promise you, Siobhan, that when we got home that night, when we were in bed, it was you I wanted, it was you I saw when I closed my eyes, that I felt under my fingertips, with my mouth, with my tongue. Only you. That girl, that Cheri girl, she's very pretty, y'know, obviously but - oh God, Siobhan, it's you I want, you I've always wanted, eight stone or eighteen stone ... Wel — maybe not eighteen stone!'

He laughed and Siobhan hit him playfuly and let him hold her in his arms and love her and comfort her.

Wel, that wasn't so much of a lie, about Cheri, Karl thought guiltily.

Just selective truth, protective lying, protecting them, their love, their future. But, God, he felt awful, he felt so, so awful. He stroked her hair.

'Jeez, Shuv, your hair's ful of stuff- bits of twig and grass and God knows what. Are you sure you were just kissing out there?'

'Wel, it was lying-down kissing, wasn't it?' she giggled nervously.

'Karl, do you forgive me? You know, don't you, it was nothing? It was me being childish and I used poor Rick to get at you ...'

'Oh, I shouldn't imagine he minded too much. What man would, you devilishly beautiful woman, you!'

They'd hugged tightly and properly then and talked into the night, talked about the last twelve months, about Siobhan's unhappiness, and they'd made plans to make sure that Siobhan would be happy in the future, to make sure that never again would they alow their relationship to become stifled, silent and thick with unspoken thoughts. And then they'd made love, for the first time in nearly two months, and as Karl slid down between her breasts, Siobhan looked down at his mop of black curls and lay back and smiled.

They'd heard the rumble of Rick's Peugeot early the folowing morning - he and Tamsin had obviously thought better of hanging around to see what happened next - and spent a blissful day and night on their own in the enchanted chapel, talking, walking, eating and making love.

The first thing she'd done when they got back to London on Monday was to phone her gynaecologist to arrange an appointment to talk to someone about their options for infertility treatments.

During their late-night conversation in the chapel, it had transpired that Siobhan had been in denial about her inability to conceive for years; it had been a long-held dream, an assumption about the path her life was going to take, and when she'd been told it was denied her, she'd brushed the dream under the carpet like a shriveled-up dead spider, bought Rosanne and decided to get on with her life, refusing to consider the option of fighting for what she'd always believed would be her natural right. Not, she understood now, the action of a decisive, pragmatic woman, but the action of a woman in shock, a woman who didn't know what else to do. They would make the! most wonderful parents, they realized that night. So many awful parents in this world, so many who didn't deserve children, who didn't want them, who hurt, stifled, spoiled and damaged their offspring. As they talked and basked in the warmth of their revived closeness they knew that they deserved children, they were ready for them, and they wanted them more than anything.

The next thing Siobhan did, anticipating the advice she was bound to be given prior to any treatment being offered to her, was to enrol with her local Weight Watchers group. Funny, now she knew that Karl loved her any way she came it was so much easier to make the decision to do something about her weight. For herself, not just for Karl; for their future, for their baby. And, more practicaly, in the short term, so that she could resurrect some of her lovely old clothes from early retirement and throw away her horrible leggings.

It was boredom that had led her to overeat, the hours and hours spent at home on her own, with a fridge ful of unhealthy food, eating meals alone, huge plates the size of a funeral pyre, without the constraints of the embarrassment of someone watching her.

She and Karl had decided that she needed more to do, she needed to be busy, too busy to eat, so she'd put an ad in a bridal magazine advertising her dressmaking services. The ad had only been in for a week and she already had three commissions. The phone rang every day with enquiries from prospective brides, and she was turning the spare bedroom into a proper bridal room.

They'd discovered the hard way that the ease that had always been the bedrock of their relationship had also been its undoing. They'd never discussed things in any great depth because they hadn't needed to. Siobhan had always decided when to move on, and Karl, compliant and utterly ful of faith in her foresight and wisdom, had folowed blindly. He'd been too blind to see when the time had come for him to take the lead and take Siobhan firmly by the hand and into the future, their future.

It had been hard for Karl to come to terms with what had happened between and Rick and Siobhan that night on the banks of the loch.

He'd had to control a lot of rather unpleasant feelings of jealousy and he realy didn't like the emotion at al — it was alien to him, against his nature. But he'd managed, somehow, and now he was feeling strangely touched by the revelations that night at the chapel, touched that, for once, Siobhan had needed him. He was being caled on to be a man, caled up for service almost, except his country didn't need him, his lover did, and he felt proud and strong and ready to do whatever was necessary.

He felt very grown-up, and it was a great feeling. He wanted to spend some money on the flat, get rid of al the studenty artefacts and shabby bits of old furniture they'd brought with them from Brighton, take the posters off the wals, buy some light shades for the bare bulbs, buy a realy nice duvet cover, maybe take out the horrible orange plastic bathroom suite and put in something expensive and Italian.

He couldn't be a rockabily for the rest of his life; he was thirty-five years old: if he had children, their schoolfriends would tease them for having a father who

looked like Bil Haley. It would be painful, but he was going to do it

—go to the barber's and ask them to remove his beloved quiff and sideburns. On the bright side, it wouldn't take him so long to get ready for work in the mornings, and he could stop using that Black and White gel that Siobhan hated. Maybe build some cabinets for his oversized record colection too; the yards and yards of neatly stacked rows of records currently dominated their living room, like some dubious modern-art exhibit at the Tate Galery. They were a trophy, a testament to his life to date. It was time to hide them, maybe even sel some. Time to move on.

They'd been so happy for so long that Karl and Siobhan had forgotten to press Play after depressing the Pause button of their lives - they'd been stuck in the freeze-frame for years, transfixed by its perfection, by the smiles on the faces of the people in it. It had taken that night in Scotland to remind them that there were new scenes to come, new developments to be worked through and that the important thing, the most important thing in the world, was to keep the film moving, whether the film had a happy ending or not.

Karl's work was going better, too. He'd been caled to Jeff's office on his return to work on the Monday afternoon, and he was smiling.

He'd just received the latest ratings and figures were up for Karl's show—only a fraction, but enough to suggest to Jeff that it would be best to leave things be for a few weeks, give things a chance to settle down, see how the figures went. 'Keep hold of the tape from Glencoe, though,' he'd said, 'Rick tels me you came up with some blinding stuff — keep it, just in case.'

But Karl felt confident that they wouldn't need the tape. The folowing week's figures had shown a further increase and he felt sure that the trend would continue. He didn't mind playing the odd bit of Top Ten bilge to keep the younger listeners on board if it meant that he could educate them by playing pop classics in between.

Karl had decided from the outset to be honest with Rick about the events at Glencoe. He liked him, he respected him and he wanted their relationship to work.

'Rick,' he'd said in the station canteen after his show on Monday, 'I know what happened. I know what happened with you and Siobhan on Saturday night.'

Rick had visibly receded in his seat then and stared down at his suddenly unappetizing plate of broccoli and cheddar bake. 'Oh,'

he'd managed to reply in a voice a few octaves higher than his normal bass.

'Look, I'm not the jealous type, Rick. I was a bit shocked, it has to be said. But I hear that you were very kind to Siobhan, offered her some very wise advice and, wel, we needed it, to be frank with you. I just want you to know that I don't feel bad about what happened, you know, that night...' This wasn't true. It wasn't true at al. Karl stil felt sick about what had happened, but he knew that if he alowed his jealousy to get a foothold the whole situation would turn in on itself and become negative. He had to keep things positive, it was the only way.

Rick finaly exhaled and began to regain his bulk. You know, she's a great girl, Karl, realy, realy ...' he said nervously.

Yeah, I know. I know.' Karl didn't want to hear this; he had no interest in Rick's opinion of his girlfriend. He took a breath to control himself. 'Look, al I'm saying is, basicaly, no hard feelings, eh? I respect you and I don't

want this to come between us, especialy when it's turned out to be such a ... such a positive thing ultimately — for both of us, for me and Siobhan. We needed a kick up the arse — you know, we'd got stale, stuck, complacent, so anyway,' he smiled then, and stuck his hand out to Rick, who took it uncertainly but gratefuly and shook it hard, 'forget about it — eh?'

Yeah,' said Rick, stil feeling a little embarrassed by Karl's candidness and his part in the situation.

'So, how are things with you and Tamsin? She was a bit upset that night?' said Karl, thickly buttering an insipid bread rol, wondering how much he could say to Rick about his patently unstable girlfriend.

'Um.' Rick gulped. 'Gone ... she's gone.' He spoke quickly, in that strange, high-pitched voice.

'Oh, Jeez, mate, I'm sorry. What happened?'

'Wel, I told her - what happened.'

You told her! Why?'

'Wel, she guessed realy. I woke up the next morning and she was just sitting at the foot of the bed, staring at me.' He shuddered. 'It was scary actualy. And she was holding my clothes, from the night before, and they were sort of... dirty. You know, grass stains and stuff.' He averted his gaze from Karl's at that moment. He breathed in deeply and let it go slowly and audibly through puckered lips.

'She just went fucking ape, completely mad, you know? Teling me I was a cock-sucking bastard motherfucker son of a syphilitic bitch

- that sort of thing. I'm surprised you two didn't hear, she was screaming so loud.'

'Jeez,' said Karl.

You know, I've been with Tamsin for six months, but I don't think I know even half of what makes her tick.

There's a lot of stuff going on under the surface with her, d'you know what I mean? She's got a lot of secrets, that girl, a hel of a lot of secrets.'

'Hmmmm,' said Karl. That was undoubtedly true.

'I guess it's just as wel I found out sooner rather than later, eh?' he added with a smal, nervous laugh.

'How are you feeling about it?' asked Karl.

Worried, more than anything. I don't know how she's going to cope.'

'Look, if she needs help, she'l contact you. She'l probably change her mind and try and come back. She's a grown woman, she can look after herself. It's the people who seem weak who are always surprisingly strong, and the ones who seem strong who are unexpectedly weak. She'l be just fine.'