The Reunion (32 page)

It hurt her heart a little, too, when she got back home and pushed the front door open, welcomed by darkness and silence. She sat next to the window smoking a cigarette, reminding herself that she liked the darkness and the silence. That she liked the solitude, that she wasn’t lonely, even if they thought she was. She was just about to go to bed when she noticed that the light on the answering machine was blinking, and she clicked.

‘Nat. You there?’ A little pause. ‘Are you screening? Don’t screen me, you know how I hate to be screened.’ It was Andrew, she could hear the laughter in his voice, she could feel the grin spreading across her face. ‘All right. You’re not there. Out living the high life. Listen, I phoned to say congratulations! Lilah told me about the short story. Can’t believe you didn’t call me. That’s amazing, Nat. It’s bloody brilliant. Can’t wait to read it. Anyway. We’re going to have a little party, in your honour. Can you do the tenth? We were thinking we’d have a barbecue at ours, get everyone round. Send us your guest list! If there are people from work you’d like to invite, or, you know, a guy maybe?’ There was a little pause and he laughed. ‘I’d better get off your answer phone now, before it runs out of tape, or whatever. Well done. You’re a clever girl, you know that? You’re amazing. Call me soon. Sleep tight.’

She lit another cigarette and replayed the message, over and over. She listened to the warmth in his voice, she could imagine his smile as he said the words. She could see him, standing by the window in his living room as he called her, tall and broad-shouldered and straight backed, the way he always stood, like a soldier. She listened to him laugh after he mentioned her bringing a guy to the barbecue. Was she imagining it, or did that laugh sound a little hollow, a little nervy? She listened again and again. She wished she could stop feeling like this. She kept waiting for these feelings to go away. She was beginning to wonder, a little desperately, if they ever would.

May 1996

DAN LISTENED TO
Music for the Jilted Generation
on the way to London. He hadn’t heard it for ages but that day it felt appropriate somehow. He played ‘No Good’ over and over, louder and louder, until the woman sitting opposite on him on the train got up and moved away. Dan didn’t blame her. He was aware that he wasn’t looking his best, might even have looked vaguely threatening, sitting there in black T-shirt and jeans, bags under his eyes, five o’clock shadow, a plastic bag full of cans at his feet.

The train was crowded and airless, it smelled of sweat and smoke. He picked up one of the tins and held it against his forehead for a moment, letting the cold transfer to his skin before pulling open the tab and taking a sip. He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, feeling the beer slip down his throat and the disapproval radiating from his travelling companions.

He arrived at Andrew and Lilah’s just after seven. Everyone was out back, in their little garden, gathered around the barbecue. It struck Dan that perhaps he ought to have brought some food with him, rather than just the tins of beer.

‘Nonsense,’ Lilah said, flinging her arms around him and giving him a kiss. ‘There’s way too much food. There can never be too much booze.’ She winked at him and took his hand. ‘You look knackered, Parker. You burning the candle at both ends up there?’ Lilah was wearing a bright green halter neck, denim mini-skirt and high heels; she looked like a supermodel. Or an expensive hooker. ‘I hope you brought something for Nat, though?’ Shit. This was Natalie’s celebration, the story thing. He was supposed to bring something for Nat. He fished around in his bag and pulled out the Prodigy CD. Lilah rolled her eyes.

‘Oh, you are fucking useless,’ she laughed, linking her arm through his and leading him out into the garden.

He had butterflies in his stomach, his mouth was dry. He was dreading seeing her and dying to see her. He scanned the garden and spotted Andrew and Nat, perched on the trestle table, laughing about something. There were a few guys from college who he’d known vaguely and had no great desire to talk to, there was Lilah, pouring the drinks and flirting with everyone in sight. No sign of Conor, no sign of Jen. He felt disappointed and relieved at the same time.

Grabbing himself a beer he joined Natalie and Andrew at the table.

‘My parents are going away,’ Nat said, ‘some time at the end of June. We should all go. It’ll be fun, we’ll have the place to ourselves. We can have a pool party.’

Dan grinned. ‘Sounds good,’ he said and then, realising he didn’t sound as enthusiastic as he was supposed to: ‘Sounds great.’ It took him a moment, but he remembered. ‘Congratulations, Nat,’ he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. ‘Brilliant news on the story.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, and she smiled at him and then looked at Andrew, who slid his arm around her shoulders.

‘She’s a star, isn’t she?’ he said and Natalie blushed.

Dan looked up. He saw Lilah, standing in the shadow of the house, watching them, and behind her, Jen and Conor, coming down the kitchen steps, hand in hand. He felt something then that he hadn’t felt in a long time, an anger and envy that he thought he’d left behind. Conor came towards them, leading Jen by the hand, head held high, a wide smile on his face, shoulders dropped, relaxed, confident, Jen just a step behind him, long legs in low heels, grey skirt, crisp white fitted shirt, her hair tied back. She was lovely. Her eyes were lowered, she didn’t look at him when he shook Conor’s hand, she didn’t even look at him when she stepped forward to accept his kiss on her cheek. He had an unbearable urge to grab her by the shoulders, to shake her, to shout, look at me!

Instead, he turned to Natalie and said: ‘So, this weekend at your place? Can I bring someone?’

Jen looked at him then: just for a moment, her eyes met his before her lids lowered again. Her cheeks flushed, she took a long slug of her wine.

‘Course you can,’ Nat said. ‘Who is she then?’

They were all looking at him, smiling, expectant. Dan kept his eyes on Jen’s face. ‘Haven’t decided yet,’ he said. ‘Couple of options.’

Jen’s lips parted a little, as though she was about to say something, then she turned away, kissing Conor lightly on the cheek as she did. ‘God, it’s hot,’ she said, and she walked away.

Conor and Andrew were in control of the barbecue. Men’s men, slinging slabs of meat onto hot coals. Dan sat to one side, sipping his beer gingerly, listening to Natalie and Lilah chattering away about films they’d seen, a dress Lilah was planning to buy. He tuned out, let his mind drift, but he kept his eye on the steps leading up to the kitchen, waiting for Jen to come back outside. He thought about going in there to find her. He wanted to confront her, he wanted to apologise to her, he wanted
something
. He wanted to be close enough to smell her skin. He finished off his beer and was about to get up to go inside when the girls decided they were going to make some Pimm’s, and the chance to be alone with her was lost.

Natalie came back out a few minutes later carrying a pitcher and some glasses. She poured him one and perched by his side on the table, asking him questions about Norwich and the girls he’d mentioned, but all the while she was watching Andrew and he felt heartsick for her, for both of them. They were alike, the two of them, they’d never get what they wanted. He looked at her, petite and pretty, hair cropped shorter, making those green eyes seem bigger than ever. He thought about the times he’d tried it on with her at college; he couldn’t do that now, it would feel wrong, it would feel weird. But he felt a kinship between them, a connection, a closeness.

‘Poor Nat,’ he said, putting his arm around her shoulders.

‘What d’you mean, poor Nat?’

‘You and me, sweetheart… Oh, it’s nothing. It’s nothing.’ He leaned down and gave her a kiss on the cheek, squeezing her closer, and at that moment Andrew turned to look at them and something passed across his face, quick, fleeting, a shadow. Anger. Dan smiled at him, quizzically, asking a question, wordless, but he didn’t have time to get an answer, because there was a crash from inside. Andrew rolled his eyes.

‘That’ll be Lilah, smashing the crockery,’ he muttered.

It wasn’t, though. It was Jen. Andrew and Conor went into the house to see what was up. They re-emerged a little while later.

‘She fainted,’ Conor told him. ‘Just clean away, apparently, she hit her head. She’s lying down now. She’ll be all right. I think it’s just heat and booze and not having anything to eat. She’s been feeling a little under the weather the last week or two.’ Dan must have looked upset because Conor smiled and clapped him on the arm. ‘She’s all right, mate. She’ll be out in a minute. We’ll just leave her to rest for a bit.’

Dan waited for a few minutes, until Conor was once again busying himself with the barbecue, until Andrew and Natalie were once again deep in conversation. He slipped into the house, down the corridor and into Andrew and Lilah’s bedroom. He knocked softly and pushed open the door. The room was dark, curtains drawn. She was lying on her side, her back towards him.

‘You OK, Jen?’ he asked her, and she rolled over to look at him. She didn’t say anything. He approached the bed, slowly, his breathing shallow. Her eyes were on his face; she smiled, but there were tears on her cheeks. He sat down at her side, leaned over her and kissed her.

‘Don’t,’ she said. He couldn’t help himself, he had to touch her, to feel her skin beneath his fingertips again. He put his hand on her waist, all the time keeping his eyes on hers, but she shook her head.

‘Don’t,’ she said again. She said his name. ‘Dan, don’t.’ He wanted to say something, he needed to tell her that he loved her. He hesitated for a moment, he was trying to find the words, it was so stupid, it was the simplest thing in the world, to tell her how he felt. She turned away from him, rolling back onto her side. She asked him to leave, and he did.

He bumped into Conor outside in the hallway.

‘What are you doing?’ Conor asked him.

‘I just wanted to see, you know, if she was all right.’

Conor was standing in front of him, barely a foot away from him, blocking his path.

‘I told you to leave her to rest,’ he said.

‘I’m sorry,’ Dan said, and he hated himself in that moment, for lowering his eyes, for submitting.

Conor took a deep breath, exhaled. ‘Yeah, no. I know. Me too, sorry. Feeling a bit tense, you know. I’m worried about her.’

‘Of course,’ Dan said, and he looked up at him and smiled. Conor smiled back, but his eyes were searching Dan’s face; he was looking for something. ‘You go on in and take care of her,’ Dan said and the smile slipped from Conor’s face.

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I’ll do that.’

Dan and Lilah got drunk that night, drunk and loud – they were out there dancing in the back garden long after the others had called it a night. He couldn’t remember, when he woke up the next morning, exactly how the evening had ended. He didn’t recall saying goodbye to Conor, couldn’t recall seeing Jen at all after he’d been into the bedroom and kissed her. He remembered Lilah telling him something, a secret, something he absolutely must not tell the others. He couldn’t anyway, because he couldn’t remember what the secret was.

JEN WENT TO
the doctor on Monday, three days after the fainting incident. It wasn’t her usual doctor, it was a private place in a smart townhouse near Lincoln’s Inn Fields, where they asked her questions and gave her a form to fill in. They debited her card to the tune of £390 and handed her a box containing four pills, two to take straight away, two to take twelve hours later. It started in the middle of the night. She left Conor sleeping, took a blanket and sat on the loo while the baby bled out of her.

She’d expected to feel something, she’d expected to cry, to feel bereft, but instead she was oddly numb. It was as though she had nothing left to feel; she was spent, finished, the past six weeks had taken everything out of her.

The night she spent with Dan seemed so very far away now – that night, and the day afterwards and the day after that, when she’d tried to picture what the world would look like if she left Conor for one of his closest friends. When she pictured her life like that, it was a bleak place, one where Conor was left angry and heartbroken, where her friends shunned her, where a relationship with Dan would pretty much be ruined before it started because everything they felt for each other would be tainted with guilt. She wrote letters to Conor and to Dan, she ripped them up. She thought of how the conversation would go, with Conor, when she told him about what she’d done, when she detailed for him the ways in which she had betrayed him.