Still Thinking of You (39 page)

66. Jason’s Reasoning

‘Christ, what a fucking mess,’ said Rich.

‘Yours or mine?’ asked Jase.

‘Yours,’ said Rich, and then he added, ‘Well, mine, too, obviously. Fuck, who’d have thought it? Mia trying to get up the duff without telling you.’ Jase had filled Rich in on the events of the night before, but Rich was still struggling to compute the facts. ‘So, she wants a baby, yeah? With you?’

‘No, not exactly with me. That’s my point. She wants my baby, but not me.’

‘Fuck.’

‘Couldn’t put it better myself, mate.’

‘She doesn’t want your money?’

‘I’ve told you, Rich, she wants nothing to do with me, not even my money.’

Jason was finding Rich’s inability to grasp the situation a little frustrating. Jase had been grappling with it all night, yet he’d hoped that his pal would be a step ahead of him and manage to offer some words of wisdom. ‘Do you want a beer?’

‘No. I’ll have an orange juice. I can’t drink on top of this. It’s too mad as it is.’ Jason opened the mini-bar and pulled out two cans of Fanta. It was sickly, sweet stuff, but he figured they could both do with the sugar. Sugar was good for shock.

‘I never knew she was lonely,’ Jase sighed.

‘I never knew she was maternal,’ commented Rich.

‘I never knew she rated me,’ added Jase.

‘Oh, I knew that,’ said Rich, pleased that he had something over his pal. Even during moments such as this one, Rich’s innate, testosterone-driven, competitive spirit was overwhelming.

‘Did you?’ Jason was thrilled and fearful at once.

‘It’s obvious, isn’t it? You two were never happier than when you were together.’

‘It hasn’t been obvious to me. She’s always taking the piss out of me. She’s always saying my job isn’t a proper job and that I should use my talents to write a Booker Prize or something.’

‘She’s very proud of you.’

‘If I had a pound for every time she’s called me immature or objected to the company I keep, I’d be able to retire.’

‘I’d have thought the fact that she doesn’t like who you are knobbing is evidence enough of her ardour, even to a numbskull like you.’

Jason thought about it. Rich might have a point.

‘But she doesn’t want me, does she? She wants my sperm.’

‘I don’t know, buddy, really I don’t. Maybe she wants more.’

Jason stared at his best friend, and the importance of his words zapped through him, hitting him with laser speed and precision. Could Rich be right? He’d like him to be right. He’d like there to be the slightest glimmer of a possibility that he and Mia had a real chance at being a real couple. Maybe he had always known that no other woman ever came up to scratch in comparison to Mia. None of them was as quick, or witty, or as sexy, or as demanding. Yes, he’d come across longer legs and firmer butts. He’d certainly come across more compliant, easygoing broads, but none of them excited him in the way Mia had, in the way Mia does. Was it possible that Rich was right? It seemed unlikely. He used to think Rich knew everything there was to know about women, but recently it was clear that Rich knew less than fuck-all.

‘God, this is confusing.’

Jason sat on his bed with his legs spread wide, and hung his head. Rich sat on a chair, but he held a similarly defeated stance. They had sat together for most of the day. The late afternoon light tumbled through the windows. The sky remained resolutely, beautifully blue, and the mountains were lit with sunshine, yet the air of depression in the bedroom hung so thickly the boys felt they could taste it. The stylish interior decor could do nothing to banish the gloom. Besides, Jason’s mess made the luxurious room appear cramped and chaotic, like a slightly sordid YMCA. Wet clothes littered the backs of chairs, emitting steam and stench, and lone trainers littered the floor looking for their partner. Jason breathed in, deeply. The only possible solution to this complex emotional issue was to ignore it. He turned his attention to Rich.

‘So what’s going on with you, the lovely Tash and the bunny boiler?’

‘Well, I’d have liked to have stayed in Switzerland today. In fact, I wanted to get married in Switzerland, so that I could avoid Jayne until after the wedding,’ said Rich.

Jason stared at him, amazed and amused.

‘And that’s it, is it? That’s your plan? You are thirty-three. You have a degree from one of the finest universities in the country. You have twelve years’ experience as a management consultant at one of the biggest and most strategically demanding firms in the world and that’s the best you can come up with. You’re just going to avoid Jayne for the rest of your days.’

‘If at all possible, yes,’ said Rich. He was a little uncomfortable with Jason’s mocking tone.

‘And are you going to intercept Tash’s mail? So that if Jayne writes to her –’

‘Yes, if I have to.’

‘And her calls?’

‘Yes.’

‘And are you going to keep her away for any social event where Jayne might be? Not to mention the possibility of stalking. I wouldn’t put it past Jayne.’

‘Yes, yes,’ screamed Rich. He understood Jason’s point.

‘Mate, it’s not going to work.’ Rich looked at Jason as though he had struck a fatal blow. ‘You are going to have to talk to Tash. By anyone’s standards this is a big secret, but if you try to keep this from Tash and you are found out, which you will be, she’ll never forgive you. Not with her 100 per cent honesty policy and all that.’

‘You said if I bluffed it out I’d be OK.’

‘That was before you went for a repeat performance and put your tongue down her throat and your hands down her bra.’

‘Thanks, mate, you’re a real comfort,’ snarled Rich.

‘I’m just telling you how it is. It’s not me you’re angry with.’ No, Rich was angry with himself. How had he allowed this situation to escalate out of control? ‘For what it’s worth, I think Tash will forgive you.’

‘You do?’ Rich looked at Jason hopefully.

‘She’s besotted with you. Just tell her. She’ll be mad, but she’ll forgive you eventually.’

‘You think so?’

‘I’m sure. Go to her now, mate. Just get on with it. Don’t be like me and Mia, don’t let there be any crossed wires. Don’t squander this opportunity. Go to her, before you’re too late.’

67. Tash Packs

Rich turned the lock in the door and walked into their suite.

Too late. He was already too late.

Tash had her back to him, and her suitcase lay wide open on the bed. Rich watched as Tash went to the wardrobe, took out some of her T-shirts, carefully folded them and put them in her case. Her actions were considered and precise. They were not the actions of a hysterical or rash woman. Rich knew that was worse for him.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

‘Isn’t it obvious? I’m packing,’ said Tash, without turning around to look at him. Rich didn’t ask why she was packing. It would be insulting to do so. It was obvious why. Because he was a moron, that’s why. Because he’d fucked up. Because he was incapable of sticking to one simple rule.

Tash didn’t turn to Rich because he would see that she was crying. He would see hefty, ugly tears sliding down her cheeks and falling off her chin, splatting on to the clothes she was packing.

‘I don’t know what she’s told you, but it isn’t as bad as she’s said. She’s a liar.’

‘In that case, you are well suited because you talk some shit, too.’

Rich paused. The truth of the statement floored him. He did, it was true.

‘She said you are lovers.’ The word stuck in Tash’s throat.

‘We were.’

His response stabbed her in the gut. ‘Since she was sixteen.’

‘Not ever since. I haven’t slept with her since I met you. It’s all over. As soon as I met you I knocked all that laddish stuff on the head, I swear to you,’ pleaded Rich.

Tash whipped around to face Rich. The tears and tension brimmed through her eyes, nose and mouth. She swiped her arm across her face, smearing snot, salty tears and saliva on to her sleeve. It was only in movies that parting scenes were ever beautiful.

‘You swear to me? Ha! What does that mean? You are a liar.’

‘She’s history. The kiss the other night, the grope, it didn’t mean anything.’

‘What kiss? What grope?’ Tash yelled, more confused, more furious. Hadn’t he just said it was over?

Fuck, it looked as though Jayne had omitted that bit. Rich was making things worse. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what not to say.

‘I love you, Tash.’

And the peculiar thing was that she knew he did love her, as much as he was capable of loving anyone. She knew that he could not have faked the intimacy that they had shared over the past nine months. But he’d still lied to her, misled and deceived her. The fact he loved her while doing so made this betrayal worse, not better.

‘Did you send her to say the wedding was off? Did you get her to do your dirty work?’ Tash couldn’t quite decide which of the many betrayals was the most offensive.

‘No. I didn’t tell her to do any such thing. I didn’t want you to know about us.’

‘So there is an “us”?’ she screamed angrily.

‘No, no, there isn’t. There never was.’ Rich tried to sound soothing. He sounded panicked. ‘Look, she was a shag-buddy. She didn’t mean any more or less to me than the dozens of other girls I’ve been with.’

‘Other girls you’ve told me about or other secret shag-buddies?’ asked Tash sarcastically.

Suddenly, after months of avoidance, Rich wanted to explain. He knew it wouldn’t excuse, but he wanted the facts on the table. ‘She was the only person I failed to tell you about. It started years ago. I’d call her up from time to time. It went on longer than I expected. It didn’t mean anything.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me about her, then?’ Tash took a guess. ‘Was she your back-up? Were you planning on keeping her on the side, just in case things cooled down between us and you ever fancied a bit of extracurricular?’

‘No, of course not.’

Rich wanted to plead with Tash. He was prepared to beg. He wanted her to trust him again, to believe him. The problem was he didn’t wear sincerity particularly well. No one ever did after they had been caught cheating.

‘She’s very beautiful,’ said Tash.

Rich stayed absolutely still. Any gesture he made would be interpreted incorrectly. Yes, of course, Jayne
was
very beautiful, but he wouldn’t be helping himself by admitting as much to Tash.

‘She’s very sexy. Really extraordinarily so. And she’s wealthy. Your friends like her. Even bloody Mia likes her. She’s the perfect girl for you.’

Jealousy stained the soul, blurred vision and threw judgement. This was not, thought Tash, the moment to be pointing out Jayne’s good points. Tash had never known jealousy until this point. She had never felt the frenzied battle between good sense and evil imaginings. The brief fears she’d held that Rich might have something going on with Mia were nothing compared to the crazy, illogical terror that had seized her mind now.

Every time he’d tongued her tiny tits had he been longing for Jayne’s voluptuous curves? Had he found her blondeness bland in comparison to Jayne’s more exotic dark looks? Jayne worked in the same company. Had they been meeting for coffee, every day for a decade? Did he fuck her after hours, then take photos of her arse on the photocopying machine?

‘No, no, Tash. You are the perfect girl for me.’

Tash barely heard the interruption. Did he prefer her blow jobs? Did she make him laugh? Had they ever had a bath together? Did he blow in Jayne’s ear? She wanted to hit Rich. She wanted to clobber him over and over again with her Jimmy Choos or, better still, with her huge snow boots – they’d do more damage. He had reduced her to inarticulate violence, such was her frustration, her disappointment, her foul anguish.

She had thought that she knew everything there was to know about the women in Rich’s past. They’d had numerous conversations to exorcize any potential demons. She knew the pitch of their moans, their on-top-or-underneath preferences, their foibles about going out without make-up. She had processed and compartmentalized them all. She had steadily worked through his history, assessing it under a microscopic light to see if there were any latent threats or tantalizing unresolved issues. She’d thought she was in the clear and in control. She thought they knew one another. She thought they were honest with one another.

She hadn’t held anything back. She’d told him everything. The things that put her in a good light and the things that left her looking shabby. He knew about her drunken shags and the time she’d tried (and failed) to seduce a married man. He knew that she’d sometimes treated hearts carelessly. Neither of them was a vestal virgin, but the thing they had going for them, the thing that set this relationship apart from all the others that they had both stumbled through, was that they had been honest with one another. They had started with a clean slate.

Or at least that’s what she’d thought.

Rich moved towards Tash; she backed away. He stretched out to her, but she flinched, as though he was diseased. He wondered whether he ought to pull up a chair and sit down and try to go through the whole thing from the beginning. It might look too presumptive. She might be about to throw him out at any second. If he sat down and made himself comfortable – or at least less uncomfortable because right now, he was about as comfortable as man who had endured an all-over body wax and was now being buggered by a giant hedgehog – then she might be further incensed. It worried him that, throughout this conversation, Tash had continued to pack her clothes. All that her case needed now was her toiletry bag.

‘I am sorry I didn’t tell you. I’d never told anyone.’

‘Why? I thought you and Jason got off on retelling one another’s adventures?’ Rich was momentarily surprised. He hadn’t realized Tash knew that.

‘I was ashamed, OK? I was sorry and ashamed. You saw the photos. She was a child.’

‘So were you. You were only three years older than her.’

‘I thought I was so mature.’

‘I can’t imagine why.’

‘I felt to blame, as though I’d taken advantage of her. I didn’t think Ted would be too pleased.’

Tash fought with the humiliation. She felt such a fool. They’d been right. Everyone who raised an eyebrow and said that she and Rich were rushing things and that they didn’t know each other well enough, they had all been right. She didn’t know him. She’d been an idiot to trust him. Could she even trust what he was saying now? She went into the bathroom and re-emerged with a bulging toiletry bag.

‘Even if I accept why you kept it a secret from your mates all those moons ago, it doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell me. You were young in the photos, too. Young enough to make a mistake. I’d have understood.’

‘I don’t think I treated her very well,’ admitted Rich.

‘You’re right about that, at least.’

‘I didn’t want you to think badly of me.’

‘That doesn’t wash. I know you did a stripper for a bet on a stag weekend. That was hardly your finest moment, but I didn’t care. It was in your past. Oh, my God, she knew that, too.’

‘What?’

‘Jayne. When she was talking about her ex, the one that had broken her heart, she mentioned he’d once shagged a stripper and that she’d been driven to distraction by the thought. Oh, God, all that time she was swapping confidences with me, they were about you.
My
fiancé.’ Tash needed to sit down. Or to run away. ‘I feel sick.’ Tash collapsed on the bed and covered her eyes with her hands. The room was swaying.

‘I didn’t want you to be friends. That’s not my fault.’

‘It is your fault,’ she yelled. ‘It’s entirely your fault.’

Rich knelt on the floor next to the bed and carefully took hold of Tash’s hands. He gently lowered them, moving slowly as though he was coaxing a timid animal, until her eyes were uncovered once again.

‘It’s you I love. You I want to marry. You have to believe me.’

His breathing was heavy. It was an important sentence. Possibly the most important one he was ever going to utter. She had to believe him. Rich studied Tash’s lovely face. He’d studied her big, blue eyes, which at the moment were red and framed with smudged mascara. He stared at her beautiful mouth, her plump, magenta lips. If he could have, he’d have sold his soul at that moment to see her broad smile radiate and to hear her happy laugh. He gaped at her cheekbones, the fine lines around her mouth and the tiny hairs on her ears. He tried to commit every detail about her to his memory. He was scaring himself by doing so because he was behaving like a man that was letting go. He’d lost her.

‘I do believe that, Richard.’

Hope?

Her face was still cold and closed.

No hope?

‘Then what’s the problem?’ he asked.

Tash thought one of the problems was that he didn’t see the problem, but she decided that line of argument would confuse him. She strove for clarity.

‘Rich, I agreed to marry you after only two months because I thought we had a unique connection. I thought you understood what was important to me and that you had the same values. But it was all fake. You never believed in no secrets, no lies, just 100 per cent respect and honesty. You just told me what you thought I wanted to hear. The same as you’ve done with countless women before me. Just as you are probably doing now.’

‘I’m telling you the truth,’ insisted Rich, frustrated.

‘I can’t trust you. You’ve snuffed out the magic. I don’t know you. It turns out I never did.’ Tash stood up, zipped up her suitcase and pulled it off the bed. She walked to the door, only pausing to take off her engagement ring and toss it into the ashtray on the dressing table.