Chapter 4
‘So you’ve finally had the sense to dump that eejit?’ Clare unwrapped her scarf, slipped off her coat and handed me both. ‘Could you not have left it there? Why pack in your job as well?’ Without waiting for an answer, she marched into my bedroom.
I hung her coat up then followed her. She was stretched out on the bed, high-heeled brown suede boots dumped in the doorway. I tutted and moved them to the side.
‘Don’t you ever wear jeans like a normal person?’ I asked, taking in her expensive-looking soft cream fitted jumper and short brown cashmere skirt. ‘That doesn’t look very practical for helping me pack.’
Clare propped herself up on her elbows. ‘My role is to lie here and direct. Packing’s a good chance for a clear-out so we’ll start with your clothes. I’ll tell you what you can keep. Don’t look at me like that. I’m doing you a favour, so I am.’
‘In what way?’
‘By the time I’m finished, you’ll have a lot less crap to fit in the van tomorrow.’
‘How rude.’
‘Although you won’t need to worry about any of it if I can convince you to change your mind and stay.’
‘I’m sorry.’ I pushed her legs to one side so I could perch on the bed. ‘You know I’ll miss you loads but this is too good an opportunity. I had to take it.’
She sighed. ‘I know. I’m probably the one who should be saying sorry.’
‘For what?’
‘For being such a crap friend.’
‘Because you’ve been sulking all week?’ I stuck my tongue out at her.
‘I’ve been a lot more crap than that.’
‘You’ve been seeing Jason behind my back,’ I joked.
She sat upright. ‘Jesus! Are you mad? When I said I couldn’t stand him, I wasn’t hiding some deep carnal lust. I genuinely couldn’t stand him.’
‘Okay. Point made.’
She slumped back onto her elbows again. ‘But I have been a crap friend because I haven’t been there for you. I’ve known how miserable you’ve been at work and with Jason for the past year and I haven’t said anything to encourage you to talk about it.’
‘You knew? How? I never said a word.’
‘You didn’t have to. I knew because I know you, Sarah. We’ve been friends for twelve years and we lived together for three of those. You don’t know someone that well and not notice when they’re miserable.’
‘So why didn’t you say anything?’ I demanded, feeling quite miffed that she hadn’t spoken up. ‘You normally blurt out exactly what you think so why keep quiet when your opinion might have made a difference?’
She grimaced. ‘Because of all this.’ She pointed to the chaos of part-packed boxes and crates spread around the room.
‘I figured that if I encouraged you to talk about your worries, you’d finally come to your senses, ditch your man Jason and quit your job.
So I selfishly kept quiet because if you had no Jason and no job, why would you want to stay in London with me?
Especially when, despite your protests, I know you’ve never really settled here.
And now I wish I had said something because you’re leaving anyway and I feel like a great big pile of crap for ignoring you when I knew you needed me.
So I’d understand if you’re mad at me and want to throw me out. ’
I slowly shook my head. ‘If I was mad at you, I’d have to be mad at my parents, our Ben, Auntie Kay, Elise and everyone else I know because, if you noticed, any of them could have noticed and brought it up, yet nobody breathed a word.
It wasn’t your responsibility to force it out of me.
If I’d wanted to talk about it, I’d have talked about it. ’
‘So we’re good?’
I smiled reassuringly. ‘We’re good.’
Clare exhaled loudly. ‘That’s a relief. I could do with a drink after all that heavy stuff. Can I suggest you open a bottle of wine then tell me everything? Jason, job, floristry – the lot.’
‘It’s only eleven. Are you sure you don’t want a coffee?’
‘Wine please.’
When I returned with two glasses, Clare was fussing Kit and Kat who’d wandered in from the cold.
‘About time too.’ She held out her hand. ‘It’s like the Sahara in here.’ She took a long gulp. ‘That’s better. Now take the weight off your feet and tell me all about the ditching of your man.’
‘The packing?’ I protested.
‘The packing can wait. If you lend me a T-shirt I may even help you but first I need to know everything. Start with that gobshite.’ She patted the bed and I obediently sat beside her.
‘I might have made out that things were okay with Jason and me but, seeing as we’re being honest about stuff, the past year has been seriously grim…’
Ninety minutes later, we’d emptied the bottle and Clare was up-to-date.
‘You make out like it was some major decision about the shop,’ she said. ‘But you hate your job, you hate London and you’re suddenly single. Surely your Auntie Kay’s offer was a no-brainer. I doubt many people get handed a successful business for free doing something they absolutely love.’
‘I don’t hate any of those things. I just don’t love them anymore.’ Clare raised an eyebrow. ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘It’s semantics but it was a really tough decision. There were pros and cons to each.’
‘Don’t tell me you got your Post-it notes out.’
I rolled off the bed and opened my wardrobe doors. Stuck to the inside of the left door were a stack of brightly coloured Post-it notes listing the pros and cons of staying in London and, on the right door, a Whitsborough Bay list. I pointed to them. ‘Busted!’
Clare picked up her glass again, drained it and then put it back down. ‘I can’t believe you make all your major life decisions through Post-it notes.’
‘It helps structure my thinking.’
She shook her head. ‘I trust I’m top of your pros list for staying here?’
‘Of course. In capitals.’
‘I should think so too.’ She squinted across the room. ‘I don’t believe it. You’ve colour coded them this time, haven’t you?’
‘And my pen colours,’ I said, realising too late that it probably wasn’t something to be proud of.
‘That is so pitiful, I could cry for you. Remind me again why I’m friends with you?’
I smiled. ‘Because nobody else will put up with your bolshiness.’
‘Fair point.’ She stood up and headed towards the wardrobes then turned around again and nodded at her glass. ‘I’m empty.’
When I returned, she was standing in front of the wardrobe looking down the lists.
‘I see Elise is at the top of your pro list for home and your con list for here,’ she said without turning around.
‘And, as already stated, you’re at the top of my con list for home and my pro list for here,’ I said.
‘I suppose.’ She shut the wardrobe doors. ‘I could have helped you move your stuff home, you know. You didn’t have to enlist her.’
‘Her uncle has a van. It made sense for her to drive it down rather than hire one and have the dilemma of where to return it to.’
‘When’s she coming?’
‘Tomorrow at lunchtime. She’d have come today but there’s some family thing she can’t avoid.’
‘In that case, I’ll reluctantly help you pack today providing you keep the wine flowing, but you’ll have to manage without me tomorrow.’
‘Fine.’
‘Fine. Glad we’ve got that sorted. Will you start packing now or are you going to waste the rest of the day gossiping?’
I opened a drawer and threw an old T-shirt to her. While she changed, I pulled a chair over to the wardrobe to climb on, trying to push aside her negativity towards Elise. It hurt that my two closest friends hated each other and I was always stuck in the middle.
Elise had been my best friend since our first day at primary school.
I’d retreated to a corner of the classroom, sobbing my heart out after my mum left me.
The teacher had obviously lost patience in trying to soothe me and had left me to it.
After thirty minutes or so, I had no tears left but was too scared to join any of the other children playing, so I’d sat with my head buried under my jumper until a gentle voice said, ‘Will you play in the sand pit with me, please?’ I’d pulled my jumper off my head and looked up to see a pretty little redhead standing over me with a bucket and spade in one hand and her other hand outstretched to take mine.
My friendship with Clare had also been forged while I was in tears but many years later on my first day at Manchester University.
My parents had just left me in the dark, grotty room that was to be my home for the next year.
Surrounded by boxes and suitcases and wondering where to start unpacking, the enormity of leaving home to live in a huge city hit me and a feeling of absolute loneliness engulfed me.
I suddenly pictured myself like Uncle Alan, all alone, with no friends and nothing to do but sit in the library studying.
The floodgates opened. I jumped when an Irish voice declared loudly, ‘Jesus, I thought my room was a shit-hole but yours definitely wins the prize for dump of the year.’
I looked up to see a tall girl leaning against the doorframe.
She was the most stunning female I’d ever seen in real life: legs up to her armpits, long blonde hair so shiny that she looked fresh out of a shampoo advert, and eyes as green as emeralds.
‘I’m Clare O’Connell.’ She didn’t wait for me to give my name, just continued talking.
‘Have you never heard of travelling light? Jesus, how many suitcases and boxes does one girl need? You’d think you were here for ten years at a time, not ten weeks.
’ She moved over to a crate holding my CDs and started rummaging.
‘At least your taste in music is okay. Oh, wait. I spoke too soon. This album is a bag of shite.’ She picked out a CD – can’t remember what now – and tossed it in the bin.
Through my tears, I stared at her then at the bin.
I didn’t know whether to shout at her or laugh.
‘It’ll take you forever to get all this crap in order and there are far better ways we could be spending our time right now. We’re off to the pub.’
‘Are we?’ I’d never met anyone that confident and didn’t know how to react. She was scary… but also quite exciting.