Chapter 14
14
There’s one week left of the Easter holidays before I start my supply teaching job and I need to make the most of my free time. So when Matt asks if I fancy coming to watch his friend’s band play in a pub in the city centre on Tuesday night, I say yes.
For reasons I’m choosing not to examine too closely, I’ve taken great care selecting my outfit of high-waisted trousers, a ‘Feminist’ T-shirt and leather jacket, unsure how smart or otherwise I’m supposed to look at the venue.
I also haven’t mentioned it to Sophie or Kirstie, for obvious reasons.
As I walk into the pub I’m nervous. I’m not sure what Matt’s told his friends about me so I have no idea what they’re expecting.
On the small stage to the left of the door is a drum kit, microphone and a couple of guitars. Matt’s friend Paul is the drummer but I can’t see anyone near the stage yet so I cast my eyes round, looking for a familiar face.
‘Miranda!’
I turn at the sound of my name to see Matt waving at me frantically from a table a few metres away. My palms feel sweaty and my stomach’s in knots, all eyes on me as I approach.
Matt stands when I get there and for a moment I think he’s going to hug me and I start to move towards him. But then he holds out his hand and gives mine a sort of awkward shake and turns to his friends.
‘Hey, everyone, this is my new friend Miranda. Miranda, this is Paul, Tanya, Scott and Debs.’
They all wave at me and say, ‘Hi Miranda!’, and I smile at them. I’m desperate for a drink to help me relax.
‘I’m just going to the bar. Can I get anyone anything?’
‘Oh, let me,’ Matt says, taking my arm and guiding me away from the table.
‘Sorry if that was a bit intimidating,’ he says, as we lean our elbows side by side against the bar. ‘I’ve told them all about you and they’ve been looking forward to meeting you.’
‘Oh?’ I don’t know what to say. Do they think there’s something more between us than friendship? I’m not sure how to ask.
‘Don’t worry, they know we’re just friends, and they know I’m trying to help you find Jay,’ he says, as if he can read my mind.
‘Ah right. Good.’
‘Tanya’s annoyed about it, but everyone else is cool.’
I turn to look at him. ‘Why’s Tanya annoyed?’
He glances over his shoulder to where his friends are laughing about something, then back at me. ‘We always used to hang out together, the four of them, and me and my ex, Celeste. But since Celeste and I have been divorced they’ve been desperate for me to find someone else. Especially Tanya. She hated Celeste.’
He doesn’t elaborate and I don’t pry.
‘Well, I’m sorry to disappoint them,’ I say with a smile.
‘Nah, they’re fine. Just… well, sorry if Tanya interrogates you a bit. She does that sometimes.’
‘Don’t worry, I’m used to it. My best friend Kirstie loves a good interrogation too, I’m sure I can handle Tanya.’
We’re distracted by the barman, and after ordering beers I assume we’re going to head back to the table. But Matt pushes himself onto a stool and waits for his pint, so I do the same. I can see Tanya watching us out of the corner of her eye and try not to look over.
Tonight is the first time I’ve seen Matt outside daylight hours, and he seems different, although it’s hard to put my finger on why. Perhaps it’s like when you see someone you work with ready for a night out, it can take a moment to adjust, to realise they have another persona. I guess it’s the way the kids at school see me too. I swear some of them think I live at school.
Some people might call Matt handsome. Okay, then, he is handsome. But not in a cheesy, catalogue model way. More in an understated way – all the pieces of his face fit together. He’s nice to look at.
Ha, nice. Who I am kidding? He’s very nice to look at.
It’s about more than just his face though. Normally when we meet he’s in jeans and a hoodie – plain, non-offensive clothes for a youthful middle-aged man. But tonight his outfit is showing some real personality – a Queens of the Stone Age T-shirt, tight ripped jeans and DMs – and it’s making my heart race a little faster.
‘I like your T-shirt,’ I say.
He looks down. ‘Oh thanks. You look lovely, by the way.’
I hate myself, but I blush, my face burning. ‘Thank you.’ Thank God it’s dark in here. ‘Have you seen them?’
‘Who?’
‘Queens of the Stone Age?’
He looks down at himself again as if surprised to see what he’s wearing. ‘Oh, right! Yes, a couple of times when they’ve come up here. Do you like them?’
‘I love them. Kirstie and I go to gigs all the time and we saw them last year.’
‘Amazing, aren’t they?’
I nod in agreement.
‘What sort of stuff does Paul’s band play?’
‘Mainly covers – bit of Chili Peppers, some Radiohead, a couple of David Bowies. They’re good though, promise.’
‘I’m looking forward to it.’
Our beers are plonked down and Matt waves away my attempt to pay.
‘Thank you.’ I take a long sip and wipe my mouth.
I’m about to say something else when there’s a loud crash on a cymbal and we look round to see Paul on the stage, and Debs waving us over. People are drifting over to watch so we hop off our stools and head back to the table.
There’s no time to speak to anyone as Paul’s band – The Pistolheads – are about to start playing, so we all turn to the stage.
Matt’s right, they are good, and the next hour flies by. Finally, when they end with Rebel Rebel , thank the crowd (well, fifty or so people), the band leave the stage and Paul comes back to us, drumsticks tucked into his back pocket.
‘Anyone going to the bar, I’m parched?’ he says.
‘I’ll go,’ Matt says, standing. ‘Anyone else?’
Everyone shouts their orders at him and he disappears. I’m about to follow him when someone sits in the chair beside me and I turn, surprised.
‘Hi, I’m Tanya,’ Tanya says, and sticks her hand out for me to shake.
‘Miranda,’ I say, taking her hand. ‘It’s lovely to meet you.’
‘It’s canny to meet you too,’ she says. ‘Matt’s not stopped talking about you since he met you.’
‘Hasn’t he?’
She shakes her head. ‘Quite the smitten kitten.’
She smiles and her face softens, and I feel myself relax. ‘Sorry, ignore me. I’m a right gobshite when I’ve been drinking. It’s just nice to see Matt happy for a change.’
‘Oh.’ I’m not sure what to say, and glance over to where Matt is talking to the barman. There are already several pints lined up in front of him and I’m overcome with the urge to rescue him – and me. I stand abruptly.
‘I’ll just go and give him a hand.’
I disappear and hope I don’t seem too rude. Matt had told me Tanya might be quite full-on, but it still feels weird being treated like a potential new girlfriend when it’s so far from the truth.
Matt looks surprised as I slide in next to him, then sees my face. I must look stricken because he says, ‘Tanya?’ and I nod.
‘I did warn you,’ he says, tapping his card on the machine. He turns to face me, elbow leaning on the bar. ‘So, what did she say?’
‘Oh nothing bad.’ I long to ask him if she’s right, about him being smitten, but I also don’t know if I want him to admit or deny it, so I don’t. ‘I think she just cares about you. She wants you to be happy.’
Matt’s quiet for a moment, and I think he’s going to say something. But then the moment’s gone, and he nods. ‘Fair enough. Do you mind giving us a hand ferrying this lot back over?’
‘Sure.’ I balance three pints precariously in my hands and wobble back to the table and plonk them down.
The rest of the evening is much easier. Matt’s friends are lovely – even Tanya has stopped pushing it, and she’s sweet and funny. I learn that Scott and Debs have been together since they were fourteen and met buying fake ID, that Tanya and Paul have only been married for two years ‘because we dicked around dating other people for ages before we finally sorted our shit out,’ and of course they tell me funny stories about Matt, much to his horror.
The pints keep flowing and the chat gets more raucous until I realise I’m really pretty drunk. I’ve been focusing on the five people round this table for so long that I’ve forgotten anything else exists, so when it occurs to me that I’m desperate for a wee, it’s an effort to drag myself away.
Sitting on the loo, the world swims a little, and when I check the time on my phone the numbers dance. It’s almost 11p.m., later than I thought. I’m having such a lovely time I’m not ready to go home, although I’m aware I should probably stop drinking. My tongue is dry and I run it across my teeth, feeling a sugary fuzz.
As I head back to the table I notice Matt watching me and I smile.
‘Hey,’ I say, sitting beside him.
‘You okay?’ His mouth is close to my ear and his breath is warm against my skin. I can see Tanya watching us and I pull away a bit.
‘I’m good. But why are there two of you?’
He grins. ‘Oh God, you as well?’ He looks at the empty pint glasses littering the table. ‘We should probably stop now, eh?’
‘Let’s do shots!’ Paul is standing, swaying slightly, and we both look up. There’s no way I want a shot right now, but before I can object Paul is at the bar, and a few moments later he returns with a tray full of glasses of… God, what even IS that?
‘They had loads of different vodkas so I got two of each,’ he says, the glasses almost sliding off as he puts the tray down on the table.
‘Ugh,’ Matt groans.
‘Ah come on, man, don’t be a wuss,’ Paul says, handing one to me and one to Matt. I don’t want to be rude so I take it with a smile. Matt takes his and shoots me a look as if to say ‘you don’t have to do this, you know’.
But then everyone has one and Paul’s cheers-ing us all, and I tip it down my throat. The vodka burns and my head spins, but my body has a warm glow and I lean my head on Matt’s shoulder. I feel him stiffen, but don’t move. I’m not sure I could even if I wanted to, because my head is fizzing and I feel like I want a hug.
Somehow I’m sitting next to Debs now. We haven’t spoken much tonight, and when I finally lift my head and turn to her I see she’s watching me.
‘Matt tells us you’re looking for someone?’ she says.
Am I? For a second I can’t quite focus my thoughts and I stare at her through a mist of confusion. But then it comes rushing back in like a tap being turned on, and my heart sinks.
‘Oh yes. Yes I am.’
‘So, who is he? He must be pretty special for you to leave London and come and live up here all by yourself.’
I focus on Debs’s face. She has an attractive face. A straight nose and full lips and kind eyes and I think we could be friends and oh for goodness’ sake what am I talking about? Focus, Miranda. I clear my throat and push my shoulders back and hope I look at least half-sober. I’m not kidding anyone.
‘I’m not sure what I was thinking really. I haven’t even met him?—’
‘What?’
Oh shit.
‘I mean, well, I’ve only met him once.’
‘Oh, Matt said twice.’
‘Yes, that’s what I meant, twice.’ This girl is sharp, and clearly not as drunk as me. I swallow and smile. ‘Sorry, I don’t think I should have had that vodka.’ I pull a face and Debs smiles, and I think I’ve got away with it. ‘Anyway, I don’t really know this guy, and it all feels a bit pointless. I mean, I only really know three things about him… well, four, and… well, actually maybe five’ – stop talking, Miranda – ‘and none of it has helped me find him yet.’
Debs is still watching me with that look that I can’t read – although that could be because she’s currently quite blurry round the edges. I’m about to start gabbling again when she says, ‘I’ve got an idea.’
‘Oh?’ I train my gaze on her nose and it helps her face swim more clearly into focus. I really need some water. She leans closer and now she only has one eye and her make-up is smudged, like a Pierrot clown.
‘Why don’t you do a TV appeal?’
I stare at her for a moment, unsure whether I heard her correctly. I thought for a minute there she said I should go on TV.
‘I know it sounds mad, but I thought of it as soon as Matt told me,’ she continues, leaning forward even further so her elbow is sitting in a pool of stale beer. She doesn’t appear to have noticed but I can’t take my eyes off the liquid seeping into the fabric of her top.
‘I don’t know if Matt told you – why would he, we only just met – but I work for the BBC and our nightly news show, Look North , has a section at the end where we have, like, a more light-hearted piece of news. You know, hedgehogs being rescued by a bunch of six-year-olds on a school trip, that sort of thing. Anyway, I reckon your story would be perfect for it – woman abandons her life in London to come up north searching for a man she only knows three things – well, five things – about. And then you could put out an appeal to ask if anyone knows someone who might match the description.’ I look at her again and her lipsticked mouth is smiling at me this time, her eyebrows raised in a question.
I don’t know how long I stare at her, but before I get a chance to reply, Tanya has slid in beside Debs. ‘What are you two whispering about over here? Is Debs giving you the third degree?’
‘I’ve just been telling Miranda she should come on the show and do an appeal for the man she’s trying to find,’ Debs says, looking pleased with herself.
Tanya looks horrified and furious all at the same time. ‘What? Why would you suggest that?’
Debs frowns, as well she might, given the force of Tanya’s apparent fury.
‘Well, it’s perfect for light news section. You know at the end…’ She trails off when Tanya seems to become even more outraged. She looks as though she’s desperate to say something else but is trying so hard to hold it in she might explode any second, bits of her scattering across the pub and landing in people’s pints.
I turn my attention back to the table.
‘I think it’s a great idea, if you’ll have me,’ I say, and regret it the instant the words have left my mouth. I would never agree to willingly put myself through that sort of humiliation without the influence of substantial amounts of alcohol, but I can only hope that Debs is just drunk enough to forget the agreement by the morning.
She turns to Tanya, triumphant. ‘See?’ she says. ‘Miranda thinks it’s a great idea.’ She smiles at me as Tanya turns her back on her, seemingly in a sulk.
‘Sorry about her,’ she says. ‘I think she’s got it in her head that you and Matt might get together, but Matt’s already made it perfectly clear it’s not like that between you, and… oh God, it isn’t like that, is it? Between you and Matt, I mean?’
‘Absolutely not,’ I say, a bit too emphatically, while trying to ignore the disappointment about Matt being so adamant there’s nothing more between us. ‘Matt and I are just friends,’ I confirm.
‘Well, good then. Give me your number and we’ll sort it out tomorrow.’
Even as I’m watching her add my number to her phone my heart is sinking. I’m not sure what made me say yes to this, but something tells me I might live to regret it.