28. Carl
28. Carl
The song that’s been chosen to start tonight’s Sixties Disco is ‘Black Is Black’. Its familiar opening chords are drifting through from the dance floor in the hall next door.
It’s one of the many songs Danny used to play back in our Camp Bastion tent on that mad old-fashioned record player of his. He talked endlessly about music – about the power of songs to transport you to other places and create different moods.
We used to tease him about it, but he was right, wasn’t he? About the power of song? Because how could this be anything other than a testament to him? How can this not be a sign? That of all the millions of other sixties songs, they chose to launch tonight’s disco with this particular one.
A minute ago, I was buzzing. The beers had worked their magic, loosening me up, and I was enjoying having a laugh with my old friends. Being with Sarah felt okay. Good, even. She looked happy, much brighter than she had before we started dancing, and I found myself thinking that maybe there could be something between us.
But how can there be? Sarah is with Danny.
Listening to this song he loved, I feel a familiar heaviness spread through me, the distinctive tug of shame and guilt.
Instead of going to get drinks, I start to push my way through the crowds eagerly making their way through the bar to the dance floor. I stumble towards the exit.
With an angry shove, I push open the doors and find myself back in the porch where I met Cherub just a few hours ago. The words ‘Newcastle UNT’ are spray-painted across one wall, while a thick layer of cigarette butts, crisp packets and empty beer cans pool around my feet.
‘I’m guessing whoever wrote that took one of your English classes,’ I’d said, and Cherub had laughed and kicked a can at me.
I’d felt comfortable, happy, and I try now to pull myself back to how I felt then. I take a series of deep breaths, an exercise Brian taught me the first time I’d sat in his office.
An icy wind burns my cheeks. I pull my collar up around my neck and rub my hands together for warmth. Then I remember Roz’s red knitted hat and reach into my pocket, feel its soft wool beneath my fingers, and smile.
It’s okay , I tell myself as I pull the hat down over my ears. Everything is okay .
‘You look like something out of Wallace and Gromit.’ A familiar voice behind me.
Sarah pulls the hat off my head, squeezes it in her hands, and laughs. ‘Are you okay?’ she asks gently. ‘I saw you freeze, back inside. I came out to check on you.’
I lean back against the wall of the porch and rake my fingers over my head. Even after all this time I’m taken aback by the length of my hair. I still expect to encounter the brush of stubble I used to feel on my shaved scalp when I was in the army.
‘I’m sorry,’ she says.
Puzzled, I turn to look at her. ‘Sorry?’ I ask. ‘What for?’
‘For what happened at Jenni and Cherub’s,’ she explains. ‘I shouldn’t have led you on.’
I knew this was coming, but still it hurts to hear her say it out loud.
Sarah stares at me steadily. She really does have the most startling green eyes.
I look away, at the floor, kick an old crushed can between my feet, anything but look into Sarah’s beautiful eyes, as she explains to me the precise reasons why she doesn’t want to be with me.
‘I mean I wanted to, I really wanted to.’
My face whips round to look at hers again.
She hesitates, searching for the words. ‘The thing is …’ She takes a deep breath.
She wanted to?
‘What’s the thing, Sarah?’ I ask impatiently. I can’t help myself.
‘Danny.’
As soon as she says his name, my heart sinks.
Danny.
Danny is the reason Sarah and I can never be together. I already know that. It’s why I’m out here shivering in the cold, unable to kick back with my mates inside. Because he is my mate too. Why do I keep losing sight of that?
Sarah starts to talk again.
‘Anyway, I did love Danny. Do love Danny,’ she corrects herself. ‘It’s just that Danny, well, he isn’t Danny any more. Not really. And I never felt for him the way I feel about you. I wanted to tell him. Ages ago, when I first got out to Afghanistan. We were already such different people, had grown so far apart. But he was so pleased to see me, I couldn’t bring myself to do it straight away. And then, after Fridge …’
She pauses, meets my gaze. ‘You remember, he started getting anxious. And, well, the time, it just never felt right. And now … how can I tell him now? Leave him now?’ Her eyes fill with tears.
It makes my heart actually hurt to see Sarah cry, to think of her being scared, or hurt, or lonely. I hold out my arms and pull her towards me.
She buries her head in my chest, and it feels so good. I breathe her in. Every bit of me wants to kiss her, make things better for her. Tell her she’s right. Danny isn’t Danny. That it’s okay for us to be together.
But it isn’t, is it? Because Danny is Danny.
And she’s right. How can she leave him now? I can’t be the reason she does.
I pull away. Her face as she looks up at me is so achingly beautiful, her eyes so beseeching, I have to summon all my strength to do what I know I need to do. Say what I have to say.
‘But he is still Danny. And you’re still his girl.’
I look up at the dark sky. Even the moon seems to be staring down at me accusingly.
I take a deep breath. ‘I’m one of the only people alive who understands what he’s been through. What we’ve been through together. And mates like that are meant to have each other’s backs. I promised him once that –’
The doors to the exit fly open and a gang of giggling middle-aged women in miniskirts stagger outside. They stop to stare at us as they light their cigarettes, then totter off into the night, hooting with laughter.
When I look back at Sarah, she has the same expression I used to see on my mum’s face when yet another man had let her down, and I hate myself. I always told myself I would be different, I would be better than all those men. But I’m not, am I?
This isn’t Sarah’s fault. She didn’t make Danny ill. And yet here she is, bound to this life with him. I wish more than anything that I could make it better for her. Tell her everything is going to be all right. Hold her in my arms again and never let her go.
I reach forward to brush away a tear from her cheek, and for a moment I let my thumb rest on the curve of her jaw. This is it, I tell myself. All it can ever be.
She is shivering now. I take Roz’s hat out of her hands and pull it down over her ears. She looks adorable in it. Irresistible.
‘I’m sorry Danny’s in a bad place,’ I tell her. ‘And I’m more sorry than you’ll ever know that he hurt you. And that we can’t …’
There are no more words.