Seeing Other People (26 page)

‘And how are things these days?’

‘Not great. Dad was briefly engaged to some divorcee that he met online but now he’s with the ex-wife of one of his old friends; I think they might actually even be engaged. It’s hard to tell when all you get is text messages.’

He sounded like an idiot of the highest order. ‘Do you think he’s happy?’

‘I’m not even sure if he knows what happiness is,’ said Bella. ‘That was always his trouble. He could never tell when he was on to a good thing.’

The words were out in the open before she’d realised their significance and never one to miss out on an opportunity to publicly flail myself I joked, ‘Sounds like we have a lot in common.’

Bella shook her head. ‘No,’ she replied. ‘You’re nothing like him.’ She finished her Coke and stood up. ‘I’m going to get a proper drink. Do you want another?’

‘So you’re staying then?’

Bella smiled. ‘For one more drink, at least.’

It was after ten by the time Bella and I thought about calling it a night. Having spent the evening discussing everything from politics to our least favourite Beatles album, talk had inevitability turned to the lateness of the hour.

‘I can’t believe the time,’ said Bella. ‘I’m reporting on a new exhibition at Tate Liverpool tomorrow and I’m booked on the six eighteen a.m. out of Euston.’

‘Plus I don’t think your friends will be too pleased you didn’t meet up with them.’

She smiled. ‘There were no friends. I just didn’t want to spend all night with you.’

‘And now here you are,’ I replied.

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘here I am. And what’s worse is I’m starving.’

‘Why didn’t you say? We could’ve gone for something to eat.’

Bella shrugged. ‘We still could. A friend of mine has been raving about a new Mexican place that’s opened up in Covent Garden. It’s late enough to have missed the evening rush. We could try there if you like?’

‘And what about the six eighteen to Liverpool?’

She grinned. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll get on it. I’ll be dead to the world for the whole day but I’ll make it for sure.’

We grabbed our coats and bags and left the pub and as we stepped out into the street joining the late-night milieu on Tottenham Court Road I felt Bella’s slender fingers intertwine with my own. As much as I tried not to read too much into this simple act it was hard not question her motivation. I’d treated her dreadfully, leaving her bed in the early hours and avoiding her the day after; why was she being so forgiving? It made no sense.

Still holding hands we headed in the direction of the restaurant pausing only to allow a trio of taxis to pass by before crossing the road. As we waited Bella briefly glanced up at me as though she had been about to say something and then changed her mind.

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’

‘It didn’t look like nothing. It looked like you had something on your mind.’

‘It was nothing really, it’s just I think you should know that you really hurt me.’ Her eyes were now fixed straight ahead.

‘I know I did. It was a mess and I should never have let it happen.’

‘But it did.’

‘And I handled it badly.’ I squeezed her hand. ‘Generally speaking how do you feel about second chances?’

‘As a concept? I’ve never been a big fan. I’m a believer in getting things right first time.’ Bella laughed and looked right into my eyes. ‘There’s something irresistible about you, Joe Clarke, I felt it the moment I met you. It’s like you’re lost and you’re desperate to find someone to show you the way home.’

‘And you think that person might be you?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Bella and she smiled. ‘But now that you’re free I think I’d like another opportunity to find out.’

The kiss was long and slow and exactly the kind of kiss that could turn even the worst of days into the best. Still, it was Bella who broke away first, and as the traffic slowed we continued across the road towards our destination. It felt odd being with her like this. Out in the open where anyone could see. Everyone we passed would assume that we were together, a couple, and would treat us accordingly, wondering about our story and what had drawn us together. It felt as though all the dots of the evening – our initial meeting, the things we’d talked about, the kiss we’d shared – were joining up to form the anecdote we would tell friends and family in the future, the story of how we got together.

At the restaurant we peeked in through the windows at the dimly lit cavernous canteen that was quite clearly still operating at full capacity. There was no way we’d be getting a table any time soon.

‘We could try back in Soho,’ I suggested. ‘There’s a pretty good Turkish place that stays open until late.’

‘Or we could just go back to mine?’ countered Bella. ‘My flatmates are out tonight. We could order in and have the whole place to ourselves.’ She squeezed my hand as though she genuinely imagined I might need some encouragement.

‘What do you say?’

‘I say let’s find ourselves a cab.’

On the way over to Bella’s place I couldn’t help but wonder if the journey would somehow jog my memory of the night we’d slept together. Maybe the taxi would take a similar route, or I’d see a building that looked familiar. Perhaps even Bella would say something that would make me think, ‘Ah, yes, I remember that now,’ but there was nothing. It was as though I’d never made this journey before and not for the first time I began to wonder how that might be.

As I paid the cab driver I looked up at the house, a three-storey Victorian conversion. I recognised it immediately: not from my previous journey to Bella’s house but rather from my memory of leaving it. How could it be that I could perfectly recall one and not the other? Even if I factored in the amount I’d had to drink that night it still didn’t add up. Maybe I was suffering from dissociative amnesia after all.

‘You look worried,’ said Bella, taking my hand, ‘there’s no need to be.’

‘I know,’ I replied, even though a sense of unease continued to linger over me like a black cloud.

Once inside the flat Bella told me to take a seat in the living room and disappeared into the kitchen. After a few moments she popped her head round the kitchen door. ‘Beer or wine?’

‘I’ll stick to wine if that’s OK.’

Bella reappeared a short while later carrying a plate laden with bread, olives and hummus. She handed me a bottle of Merlot that she had tucked under her arm and a corkscrew.

‘What do your flatmates do?’ I asked as I opened the bottle.

‘Fran’s in her final year of medical school,’ said Bella, taking two wine glasses from a cabinet near the TV, ‘and Kimberley’s a trainee womenswear buyer for Selfridges.’

They were all still on the thresholds of their respective careers. Everything was new and fresh for them just like this night was for me. I filled the glasses while Bella closed the blinds and switched on a lamp.

As we ate and drank we talked more about work but then Bella asked me about my early days as a novelist again and it reminded me of the present that I had brought for her. I pulled out an envelope from my jacket pocket.

‘What’s this?’ she asked as I handed it to her.

‘I don’t know,’ I replied. ‘A present to go with the apology. I wouldn’t get your hopes up though. I can’t imagine anyone else in the world who would want it apart from you.’

Bella ripped open the envelope and her eyes widened in surprise. ‘Is this what I think it is?’

‘All eight hundred words of it,’ I replied. ‘I was never really sure where it was going. In the end I handed back the advance to my publisher just so that I didn’t have to torture myself any more.’

‘The first chapter of your second novel – I don’t know what to say.’

I suddenly felt sheepish. ‘Chuck it if you want.’ What was I doing showing her my old work like that? She must have thought me an idiot. ‘Like I said, I don’t know where I thought it was going.’

‘I love it,’ said Bella, putting down the pages and leaning towards me. ‘Sometimes it’s good not to worry too much about what will happen next.’

We kissed, gently at first then with increasing intensity as each moment passed, our hands running across each other’s body, but as Bella whispered something about moving to the bedroom I thought about my last time with Penny and how right it had felt being with her. Suddenly this felt different, alien, and I wasn’t nearly so sure what I was doing here.

Bella stood up, tugging on my hand.

‘Joe, come on. What are you waiting for?’

I thought about telling her the truth. That I was waiting for myself to wake up. That incredible as she was I wanted to open my eyes and find that this was all a dream and that I was safe and happy with the only woman I’d ever love. But I didn’t of course because that would have made even less sense than a guy like me turning down a girl like Bella when there was effectively no reason to do so. So instead I spun her a yarn about how I was confused and didn’t feel ready for a big commitment and was wary of doing the wrong thing. She said that she understood, she even said that I could stay and sleep on the sofa, but in the end I kissed her on the cheek and said a final goodbye.

As I closed the front door to the house determined to head to the high street so I could get a cab I looked down at the front gate and spotted Fiona waiting.

‘Come on then,’ I said, refusing to stop, ‘I’m ready to take whatever insults you’re waiting to throw at me.’

Fiona laughed and followed me. ‘Who said I’m here to insult you?’

‘Isn’t that what you do?’

‘Yes, when it’s needed. But it’s not needed right now is it? I’m impressed, Joey Boy. For a minute back there when you were rifling through Slag Face’s underwear I’ll admit I was thinking, “What an idiot! He hasn’t learned a thing!” but you proved me wrong didn’t you? Which – I’ll have you know – is something that doesn’t happen very often. I’m almost proud of you, Joe, you’re growing.’ She pretended to dab her eyes with a handkerchief that she produced out of nowhere. ‘I think I’m actually coming over a bit emotional.’ She laughed and tucked the handkerchief up her sleeve. ‘It feels good though doesn’t it?’

I stopped and looked at her. ‘What?’

‘Knowing for a fact that out of all the women in the world you only want Penny.’

‘And a fat lot of good that’s going to do me. She’s with Scott, she’s not going to come back to me.’

‘I wouldn’t be so sure about that.’

‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’

Fiona shook a finger in my face. ‘I’ve already said too much. But you’re nearly there, Joe, you’re so very nearly there.’

27

‘Right then you two, kiss Mum goodbye and we’ll get off.’

A month had passed since the night I’d tried to rekindle things with Bella. Thankfully I hadn’t seen any more of Fiona but other than that, very little had changed. Things between Penny and me were frosty but civil and she was still very much with Scott. Thankfully however a distraction came my way in the form of an idea of Stewart’s. On a low after having missed out on yet another one of his children’s birthdays he’d needed a project to focus on and when he’d shared his idea – taking our kids camping in Suffolk over the summer bank holiday weekend – with the Divorced Dads’ Club and me we’d agreed to it unanimously.

Rosie and Jack gave Penny their biggest kisses and squeezes before racing to the car. They were practically fizzing with excitement at the prospect of three nights under canvas and seeing them so happy made me happy, albeit briefly, given that Penny and I were still not really speaking.

I looked at her, wondering what she was thinking, something I never had to do when we were together. Penny had always been such an open book, so easy to read. Not any more.

‘Right, if that’s everything, I think we’ll be off.’

She didn’t speak and so I turned away, ready to head down the path, but then she called after me.

‘I’ve given you Jack’s hay fever medicine haven’t I?’

‘It’s in the glove box.’

‘And you’ll remember to keep an eye on that patch of eczema on Rosie’s shoulder? It’s really been irritating her lately.’

‘I’ve got it all under control. Her cream’s with Jack’s medicine and it goes on twice a day. I’m not stupid, Pen. Give me some credit will you?’

Instead of getting angry at my barbed comment her face softened. She seemed distracted. ‘Of course, yes, I’m sorry. I’m just . . . it doesn’t matter.’

I started down the path again.

‘Joe?’

‘Yes?’

‘Is there any chance we could have a chat sometime? Maybe when you drop the kids back on Monday? There’s some stuff I could do with talking to you about. Nothing major.’

I felt my heart sink. Was there really any such thing as a ‘quick chat’ when you were in the middle of a divorce? ‘I don’t know, Pen, after a weekend under canvas with the kids I’m guessing I’ll be good for nothing. Can’t it wait until next week sometime?’

‘Not really, no.’

‘Fine,’ I sighed, and wondered if this was some tactic her solicitor had devised to mess with my head. ‘I’ll see what I can do but I’m making no promises.’