Chapter 26 #2
‘We’re all missing him terribly.’ He was on live television and the unexpected change of subject had caught him off guard.
As he paused, realising his emotions were getting the better of him, he saw a blown-up photo appear on the screen to his left, of himself and Leon during their university years.
The informal snap had been taken during a party at a scruffy student flat, and they were both brandishing bottles of lager, roaring with laughter at some shared joke.
His eyes filling with tears, he pictured Leon’s reaction if he were still alive and could see him now; it was only too easy to imagine the amount of teasing that would ensue. Leon would find this hilarious.
‘Oh no. I’m sorry, here . . .’ Reaching beneath the desk in front of them, Sadie produced a box of tissues and offered it to him.
Jamie ignored the tissues, even as he felt a tear roll down his cheek and brushed it away.
‘He was like a brother to me. I loved him, and he’d never let me forget this moment, he’d be wetting himself laughing.
It’s hard to think I’m never going to hear him taking the mickey out of me again.
But I was lucky to have him as a best friend. And I’m going to miss him for ever.’
‘Of course you will.’ Sadie had taken one of the tissues for herself and was carefully dabbing beneath her eyes. ‘And he was lucky to have you. Thank you so much for sharing those beautiful words with us. Listening to you, I’m sure I’m not the only one getting emotional right now . . .’
Oxford
The piece with Jamie ended and Sadie Ingalls moved the show smoothly on to the next segment, about the nation’s favourite flavour of crisps.
Five minutes ago, Hattie’s doorbell had buzzed and she’d let Guy into the flat because he’d arrived a few minutes early and she was still deciding which shoes to wear depending on how far she might have to walk to the restaurant.
The TV had still been on, and when Sadie had announced that their next guest was Jamie Hamilton, Guy had said, ‘Hey, how about that? OK if we watch it? He might mention the Venice trip.’
Now, having sat together and taken in Jamie’s interview in a state of shock, Hattie switched off the TV and turned to Guy in disbelief.
‘Leon’s dead. How can that be possible?’ She felt the build-up of pressure in her chest, covered her face with both hands and began to sob, because Leon had been so cheerful and friendly whenever they’d seen him, and witnessing Jamie’s genuine grief on the screen just now had been deeply affecting.
‘I can’t believe he’s gone. And poor Fen .
. . it doesn’t bear thinking about.’ Everyone on the ship had been aware of the brand-new love-at-first-sight relationship between Leon and Fen, and had delighted in seeing them together, both so giddy with joy at having found each other.
She turned to Guy, burying her wet face in his neck, and he wrapped his arms around her. Gruffly he said, ‘It’s a shock. He was a good lad. They thought they had the rest of their lives together. Shit, it just goes to show, we never know how long we have left.’
For the next hour, they absorbed the news, letting it sink in.
Hattie kept tearing up each time it struck her afresh that Leon was gone.
Guy was affected too, but just as when her father had first been diagnosed with his debilitating illness, eight years ago, he was the one doing the consoling.
He’d taken charge this evening, cancelling their taxi and the restaurant reservation, comforting her while she sobbed and not minding at all that she’d got mascara stains on the front of his favourite shirt.
‘Thanks. I forgot you were always good in a crisis.’ She managed a weak smile as he held the mirror in front of her so she could clean away the streaky mess of make-up.
‘I may not have many talents.’ Guy took the sodden grey cotton-wool pad from her and replaced it with a clean one. ‘But I do my best to help where I can.’
‘I look terrible now.’
‘No you don’t.’ He paused. ‘You always look lovely to me.’
Hattie sniffed in a way that wasn’t lovely at all.
Since Venice, theirs had become a kind of see-sawing friendship, with Guy being the keener of the two and Hattie enjoying having the upper hand.
But what she was struggling to admit, even to herself, was the fact that her own feelings were becoming increasingly muddled.
She was liking him more, but scared of getting involved again.
He’d been doing his best to prove to her that he was a changed person, a better man than before, but how could she trust him and believe it would last?
Could a relationship that had fizzled and died a few years ago ever be successfully revived?
Having had nothing to eat since breakfast, Hattie winced as her stomach now rumbled. It felt wrong to be happening while they were still getting over the news about Leon.
But Guy said, ‘Hey, we do need to eat. Do you want to go out?’
She shook her head. ‘No.’
‘Shall we order in?’
‘I suppose.’ It crossed her mind that in the old days, he would invariably have tried to change her mind, had never wanted to stay at home, whereas now he was definitely enjoying it more.
It was as if he had got the endless need to be elsewhere out of his system.
He’d already tried to explain this to her, and she’d struggled to trust him, but as time passed it was beginning to seem as if what he was saying might be true.
Which was ironic in a way, seeing as these days she was finding herself enjoying going out so much more.
Maybe, just maybe, they could end up balancing the see-saw after all.
‘Actually, I’ve had a better idea.’ Guy rose to his feet now. ‘Why don’t I make you your favourite?’
Hattie sniffed again. Her favourite was a cheese soufflé, and when they’d been married, Guy had always done them for her on her birthday. Soufflés weren’t the easiest, but he’d taught himself how to make them. She wasn’t an enthusiastic cook herself, and it was years since she’d last had one.
‘It’s too much trouble. And I’ve run out of eggs.’
‘That’s why they have these things called shops,’ said Guy. ‘You wait here and I’ll be back in ten minutes. Here, have another tissue in the meantime.’
Hattie wiped her eyes once more. The nicer he was to her, the more she wanted to cry.
Bristol
Sadie Ingalls had been in a corner of the green room, deep in conversation with her producer. Coming over to join Jamie as he accepted a glass of wine from one of the runners, she said, ‘When you wake up tomorrow, you’re going to find another two million women have fallen in love with you.’
‘You mean because I made a prat of myself on national TV?’
‘Because you were brave enough to show how you feel about losing your best friend. There’s nothing more irresistible than a man who isn’t afraid to reveal his emotions.
And you were already attractive in the first place.
The way you spoke about Leon tonight was quite a moment.
It was extra special, and the reaction on social media has already taken off.
Our show’s never seen a response like it. ’
Jamie said evenly, ‘Great for you, then.’
‘And for you too.’
His jaw tightened. ‘Believe it or not, that isn’t why I did it. It wasn’t planned’
Sadie looked horrified. ‘I know that! Jamie, that’s not what I meant at all.
You’ve touched the hearts of millions of viewers,’ she hastily explained.
‘You’re giving countless men permission to shed a tear in public and feel no shame about it.
That is such a powerful gift. You’re going to make a real difference, you know?
Because what you did and what you said was so authentic. ’
Jamie nodded, ashamed of himself for having overreacted. His emotions had been all over the place. He’d tried calling Fen immediately after the show, but she hadn’t picked up or called back. ‘OK. Sorry. It’s been a tough couple of weeks.’
‘Please, no need to apologise.’ Sadie clutched his forearm. ‘I know exactly what you’re going through. I lost my closest friend when I was eighteen and it was devastating.’
‘You did?’
‘We’re not here to talk about me. I just wish there was something I could do to make you feel better.
But there is no magic solution. You have to make your own way through it, and eventually the pain lessens.
You’re able to remember the good times without wanting to yell at people when they compare your loss with the time their pet rat died. ’
Jamie half smiled, because he’d already been subjected to similar comments, well-meaning but painful to endure. ‘So true.’
‘Look, I’m heading off soon, going to grab something to eat nearby before going home. If you don’t have any plans, you’d be very welcome to join me.’ Her eyes sparkled as she lowered her voice. ‘But of course it’s fine if you’d rather not.’
He paused, picturing himself in his smart but soulless hotel room, ordering room service and watching rubbish on the oversized TV opposite his bed. Or . . .
‘I know a little restaurant not far from here,’ said Sadie. ‘Italian, fantastic food, fazzoletti with walnut butter to die for.’
Maybe this was what he needed, a bit of distraction with a smart, sympathetic woman, coupled with some fazzoletti. What-ever that might be.
He checked his phone once more. Still nothing from Fen. Finishing his glass of slightly warm Sauvignon Blanc, he nodded. ‘Why not? Sounds good to me.’
Fen’s sleep patterns were all over the place. Yesterday evening she’d fallen asleep on the sofa at six, then had woken disorientated at midnight to find her phone out of battery on the floor beside her and no sign of the charger cable anywhere.
If Leon still existed somewhere on another plane, was this what it felt like for him, completely helpless, with no phone and no way of contacting anyone he might be desperate to speak to?
But since she’d set the TV earlier to record Jamie’s appearance on the Every Night Show, she curled up on the sofa she’d previously been sprawled across and watched his eyes fill with tears as he spoke simply but movingly about Leon.
Tears, so bloody many of them, where did they come from?
Fen wiped her face with a crumpled tissue from her cardigan pocket; her body appeared to be a bath tap that never ran out of water.
When she told herself that at some stage in the future she would stop crying twenty times a day, the prospect of that caused her to feel so guilty it only set her off again.
She rewatched the segment twice more, then dozed off and dreamt Leon was yelling for help in the middle of a lake, but no one would let her dive in and rescue him.
She got up and poured herself a bowl of muesli, before discovering too late that the milk was off.
Then she tried to drink a mug of black tea, which was almost as grim as the sour milk.
She watched three episodes of an old comedy series that failed to make her smile even once.
At five in the morning, she showered and dressed, then drove to the twenty-four-hour supermarket.
Arriving at the till to pay for her new charging cable, a litre of milk and a six-pack of paprika crisps, she unzipped her shoulder bag and saw, curled like a snake around her purse, the missing cable.
Typical, typical, fucking typical. To top it off, her eyes were now leaking again.
‘You all right, love?’ said a middle-aged man behind her.
‘I’m OK.’ Fen nodded wearily.
‘Got the flu, have you? You want to get home and go back to bed.’ Evidently trying to reassure her, he said, ‘You look terrible!’
Which was always good to know.
Home again, she plugged in her phone and watched it come back to life. There had been two missed calls from Jamie yesterday evening, made shortly after the programme had ended. She wouldn’t call him back yet, in case he was lucky enough to still be asleep.
It was scrolling through social media that brought home to her how affected the viewing audience had been by his appearance on the show.
The pages were awash with crying and broken-heart emojis along with extravagant declarations of love for Jamie Hamilton.
There were also very many comments ending with RIP Leon, posted by people who until last night had never even been aware of his existence, which was weird but in a strange way almost comforting, because at least they’d taken the trouble to type out his name.
Then her gaze fell on a post that said, Phwoar, lucky Sadie!
!! and was followed by a link to the online gossip section of a massively popular news website.
Fen clicked on the link and saw a short, excitable piece about Jamie’s appearance on the show titled: ‘Grieving Rugby Star Consoled By Sexy Sadie!’
The first couple of photos were screenshots of Jamie wiping his eyes on the show. The rest were of him and Sadie Ingalls emerging from a restaurant in the rain, huddled together beneath an umbrella and looking as if they couldn’t get enough of each other.
As if they didn’t have a care in the world.
Fen took a deep breath, scrolling down the page to see how many photos there were .
. . eleven, twelve, thirteen . . . and in several of them you could see that Jamie was holding the umbrella in one hand while the other was around Sadie’s waist. They were gazing into each other’s eyes, clearly having the best time, and in one of the photos she was leaning into him, her hand pressed to his chest, murmuring into his ear while Jamie tipped his head back and laughed.
The accompanying piece did a good job of guessing what had been going on, as well as what could be about to happen.
There was also a helpful red circle drawn on the final photo, indicating the gold foil top of a champagne bottle peeking out of Sadie’s unzipped shoulder bag, leading the writer to conclude that they were most likely heading off somewhere more private so she could console Jamie in the traditional manner.
That was the great thing about being well known, wasn’t it? If you were a good-looking rugby player and life was getting you down a bit, there was always an attractive woman only too happy to take your mind off it and cheer you up.
Lucky old Jamie. Must be nice to be so easily distracted. Swallowing with difficulty, Fen pressed the side button and switched off her phone.