These Days of Ours (3 page)

‘Call me Marjorie!’ quacked Becca’s mother, HRT pulsing through her system like heroin.

As Julian helped Becca stack the dishwasher, there was a murmured conversation at the table.

‘Such lovely manners.’ Kate’s mum was won over by Julian’s breeding.

‘And that voice . . .’ Aunty Marjorie shuddered with pleasure.

‘A lovely decent chap,’ said Kate’s mum, unaware that the decent chap was decanting her niece from her knickers in the utility room as she spoke.

Later, during the inevitable phone review of the day with Kate, Becca admitted, ‘Julian was so mad at me. I thought for a minute I’d gone too far.’

‘You always go too far.
Too far
is where you live.’ Being related to somebody who kicked down boundaries meant Kate could live vicariously through Becca’s antics.

‘My mum’s whistling the Bridal March.’ Becca snorted. ‘She reckons it’s a done deal.’

‘And is it?’ Kate knew that Becca’s ambition was of the berserk variety; she believed nothing was beyond her powers when it came to men.

‘More or less.’

‘Don’t force him into anything.’ Kate had a pang of sympathy for Julian, as if he were a wounded lion and Becca a big game hunter. She could almost hear the inward smile from
the other end of the phone. The pincer movement had begun.

Now, in the spare room, Kate was privy to its climax.

‘You love me, don’t you, honeybear?’ murmured Becca.

‘You know I do,’ said Julian. ‘I’m nuts about you, sugarlips.’

Kate and Charlie daren’t look at each other in their tent of coats.
Honeybear. Sugarlips.
This was too much.

‘Why not show me how much?’

‘That’s what I’m trying to— ow!’ Julian felt his cheek where it smarted from Becca’s playful slap. ‘Take it easy, babe.’

This tense interaction was familiar to Kate and Charlie from the two couples’ regular double dates. At some point in the evening, Becca and Julian would inflate a minor disagreement into
an all-out row. Passionate, demonstrative, the couple unnerved Charlie, who begged to see less of them.

‘But it’s Becca . . .’ Kate would say. As an only child, she’d appreciated the proximity of a readymade friend. At times the girls referred to each other as
almost-sisters. She’d stopped judging Becca years ago, but Charlie had no such history to call upon; from time to time he suggested that Kate should be less passive, that she should say no to
Becca occasionally.

In answer, Kate would ruffle his hair. ‘You’re just annoyed because she bosses you around like a little brother.’

Then Charlie would shrug and they would kiss because he’d always known that Kate’n’Becca were a job lot; if he wanted one, he must put up with the other. The young
women’s childhood closeness had endured when they spread their wings because each of them felt understood when they were together. Becca knew all Kate’s dark corners and sharp angles
yet was relentlessly partisan, always on her side, always shoulder to shoulder with her cuz.

‘That’s just Becca being Becca,’ Kate would smile when Becca forced them all to go to the movie only she wanted to see. But she could tell when Becca went too far with Julian,
when she tested his goodwill a smidgeon too much. Perhaps pushing him across the spare room when he tried to kiss her would turn out to be one of those times; the pincer movement might be in danger
of collapse.

‘This is important, Julian, and all you want to do is snog!’

‘You put it so poetically.’

In the dark, Kate wrinkled her nose. That edge to Julian’s voice only appeared after a drink or three, when he would criticise Becca for her lack of ‘culture’ and suggest
Can’t you be more like Kate? She reads actual books instead of fashion mags.
Kate was flattered that Julian took her seriously, singling her out for conversations while ignoring
Kate’s (it had to be admitted) fluffy girl chums, but she loathed his relish at taking Becca down a peg or two. And she told him so. Which was one of the many reasons she suspected Julian
didn’t like her much.

Becca either ignored or didn’t catch the sneering tone and ploughed on. This ability to filter out what she didn’t want to hear was one of the keys to her success with the opposite
sex. ‘Think, Julian. What would make my eighteenth birthday party totally utterly completely unforgettable?’

‘A murder?’ Julian laughed. He seemed oblivious to the gravity of his situation; Kate knew he was ambling into a mantrap. ‘Stop asking me riddles, Becca. I’m a bit drunk
and I’ve had too much of your mother’s weird quiche, so tell me, gorgeous, what do you want? Because it’s yours. You know I’d do anything for you.’

‘Anything?’ Becca almost purred.

Kate couldn’t quite pin down the reason, but she had never endorsed Julian and Becca’s union.

It wasn’t because he found their crowd juvenile; it was natural that a bunch of teens must seem childish to a successful guy in his mid-twenties. Nor did she hold his haughty manner
against him; unlike some of their friends, Kate was amused by Julian’s insistence on fine wines and his unshakeable belief that a man without a tie is only half a man. It was something else,
something in his eyes when he looked at Becca. Something was missing and that something was love.

Kate knew what a man in love looked like. Charlie had taught her that. With a sudden swelling of her heart for the strange, silly, gorgeous boy at her side, Kate kissed him hard on the lips and
he jumped.

Engrossed in their head-to-head, Becca and Julian didn’t notice the coat pile move.

‘Think. What does a man do when he falls in love with a woman?’ Becca’s voice was sugary enough to cause dental cavities. ‘Mmm?’

‘He buys her lots of nice things,’ said Julian, lifting her hand and kissing her wrist right by the gold charm bracelet she’d unwrapped an hour earlier. ‘And he puts up
with her mother. And he gives her lifts here, there and everywhere, even when he’s busy with work. And he tells her she’s beautiful on the hour every hour. I already do all that,
darling.’

‘No, I mean what does he
ask
her?’

‘Dunno.’ Julian pretended to think. ‘How was it for you?’ He ducked her swipe and said, long suffering, ‘Get to the point so we can have a shag, Becca,
yeah?’

Charming.
Kate knew what Becca was angling for.

Some saw the disintegration of Princess Diana’s story book marriage as a perfect illustration of why grown-ups no longer believe in fairy tales. Others – such as seventeen-year-old
thoughtful Kate – saw it as a feminist fable about a virgin sacrifice to the patriarchy. Becca simply saw a vacancy for a princess. She’d been planning her wedding dress since she was
old enough to hold a crayon and now the groom of her dreams was in her sights.

‘He gets down on one knee,’ said Becca slowly, clearly, so there could be no doubt about what she was suggesting. ‘And he asks her to be his—’

‘Becca, darling, I love you to bits but—’ Julian’s incontinent protest was stopped by Becca’s finger on his lip.

‘He asks her to be his wife,’ she whispered.

The room was still. Beneath the coats, Kate and Charlie held their breath. The party seemed to have been muted.
Becca’s played this so wrong!
Kate braced herself for the whirlwind
of tears that would follow Julian’s refusal to co-operate.
She can’t hypnotise a man like him into marriage!

‘You are the most insufferable, troublesome, spoilt little madam I’ve ever come across,’ said Julian. ‘Will you marry me?’

‘Yes!’ screamed Becca. She jumped into his embrace, almost knocking him over again. ‘Yes yes yes! Oh God, where’s Kate! She’ll die!’ She obliterated
Julian’s face with kisses. ‘I must ring my mum!’ She kissed Julian again, more slowly this time. ‘Do you want beef or chicken at the reception?’ she said against his
lips.

‘You little monster,’ said Julian indulgently.

‘Can we tell everybody? Right now?’

‘Hang on, hang on.’ Julian put his hands on her shoulders. ‘We need to do things properly. I should call your dad to make sure he approves.’

‘He approves, he approves,’ gabbled Becca. ‘Mum won’t let him disapprove.’

Nobody
, thought Kate,
has mentioned love.
She felt a sense of foreboding that didn’t suit the occasion. She snuggled into Charlie, needing his warmth, his solidity. She
feared for her cousin, so insanely joyous, so wrong-headed. This empathy, this desire to protect a woman who didn’t seem to need protecting, was a vital strand in the ties that bound Kate to
Becca.

As Becca burbled, Julian shepherded her out of the room, trying and failing to dampen her stratospheric enthusiasm.

The door closed behind the newly engaged couple. Kate and Charlie crawled tentatively out from their bolt hole like startled woodland creatures.

‘Bloody hell,’ said Kate.

‘That,’ said Charlie, ‘was a terrible proposal.’

‘To be fair, all proposals are terrible to you.’ Charlie was infamously anti-marriage.

‘Yeah, but, if I
had
to propose,’ said Charlie, his quiff in disarray, ‘I’d do better than that. It was so unromantic. It was like a joke.’

‘Julian wouldn’t dare joke about weddings with Becca.’ Kate giggled, not with mirth but with a nameless anxiety. ‘They’ve messed up, Charlie. Really badly. I
don’t think he loves her.’

‘I don’t think she loves him,’ said Charlie.

‘Oh shit!’ Kate put her hand to her mouth. ‘She’ll make me be bridesmaid!’

‘Ha!’ Charlie seemed delighted. ‘Chiffon! Ballerina pumps! And a big flowery thing on your head!’

‘Should we, you know, go downstairs?’ Kate gestured half-heartedly towards the closed door, unsure if she could cope with the levels of excitement Becca would reach during her
announcement. Sometimes, if she was honest, the strain of being a walk-on player in Becca’s set pieces got to Kate.

‘Suppose we should, really,’ said Charlie.

They stood, irresolute, both reluctant but neither wanting to be the bad guy.

‘I’m so glad you’re
you
,’ said Kate. ‘And not Julian.’

‘Um, good,’ said Charlie uncertainly. ‘Just for the record, I’ve
never
been Julian.’

‘You’re so . . .’ said Kate, holding up one hand. ‘And he’s so . . .’ She held up the other.

‘Thanks for explaining so fully.’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘The stupid thing is,’ said Charlie, ‘I do know what you mean.’

On paper, Julian was the perfect catch. His looks and wealth and bearing ticked all the standard boxes.

Shabby Charlie, always bent over a notepad, prone to giggling until tears came out of his creased eyes, doodler of doodles, writer of love limericks, partner in crime, ticked the boxes Kate had
drawn for herself.

‘I’m glad I found you, Charlie.’

They took a long hard look at each other. ‘And I’m glad I found you,’ said Charlie.

Propelled into each other’s arms, they dropped to the bed, pulling at buttons, grabbing at straps. Giggling, groaning, they flailed about, arms and legs thrashing, a growing excitement
driving them forward.

‘We need a . . .’ Kate sat up, her hair across her face, her bra absent.

‘A . . . yeah, we do.’

Neither of them seemed able to say
condom
.

‘I, um, I do have one, actually.’ Kate bit her lip.

‘You wanton woman you,’ said Charlie.

It was a slippery little so-and-so, that one precious condom Kate had acquired.

‘Whoops!’ It flew across the room. ‘Ow!’ It caught her in the eye. Finally, it collaborated and Kate lay back and Charlie’s face came so near it swam out of
focus.

‘I love you,’ he said.

‘I love you,’ she said.

Their mouths, their bodies and their eager hearts met. Kate had expected sharp pain but there was none, only a furious and compelling excitement surging up from the centre of her. When it seemed
to peak she found there was still more, until finally she and Charlie were limp and clinging to each other.

‘Did I make loads of noise?’ she whispered against his damp hair.

‘Just a bit.’ He was breathless.

A huge cheer erupted from downstairs and for a horrible moment they thought their amateurish lovemaking was being applauded.

Kate realised. ‘Becca’s made the big announcement.’

They didn’t move for some time. Kate gave up dissecting how she felt about what they’d done and just
was
. When they stood up, her legs seemed to be boneless. ‘I’m
a bit wobbly,’ she said, bumping elbows and knees with Charlie as they pulled on their underwear amid the avalanche of coats that had slid to the floor. Despite the very adult nature of the
last fifteen minutes, she felt juvenile and giddy. As Kate tackled the buttons on her shirt, Charlie said, ‘If I believed in marriage, I’d ask you to marry me.’

‘If I believed in marriage,’ said Kate, ‘I’d say yes.’ She pulled up the zip on his trousers. ‘But we don’t believe in marriage, so . . .’ She
kissed him. It felt different to the ‘before’ kisses. Something had changed. They were in deeper. She shivered, partly from the thrill of it but also from a fear of the vast adult
universe she glimpsed from this new vantage point. ‘Something’s bugging me, Charlie,’ she admitted.

‘What?’ he asked, stricken.

‘You thought I’d chuck you.’

‘Oh,
that
.’ Charlie downsized her misgiving, taken aback by her frown. ‘I panicked. I knew you wouldn’t. I know we’re strong. We are, aren’t we?
We’re good.’

‘Look, we don’t want ever to get married, but can we say we’ll never chuck each other? How does that sound?’

Charlie put his hand on his heart and said, solemnly, ‘I hereby swear never to chuck you.’

‘And I swear never to chuck
you
.’ Arms around each other, they mooched out, loved-up Siamese twins.