Chapter 12 #2
All six of us had women in our lives at various points, some more seriously than others, but only one of us was married. It wasn’t that women were banned from our weekly trips to the pub, it was just that none had ever showed up, so I wasn’t quite sure how bringing Stella along would go down.
Joshua and Dexter knew that Stella was taking me to the wedding so I could speak to Henry.
But I’d have to fill the others in so no one got the wrong end of the stick and thought things were so serious I couldn’t be away from her for an evening.
It would be so out of character they’d think I’d caught some kind of weird disease.
I couldn’t imagine ever feeling that close to a woman.
The perfect relationship for me was a woman I saw twice a week for dinner and a sleepover.
The idea of sharing a bed every night was enough to make my skin itch and my palms sweat.
“And I don’t have to drink beer, right? Because if fitting in means drinking beer then I’m happy to stick out. I hate it.”
“You don’t have to but if you want to fit in . . .” I said in mock warning. “I’m drinking lemonade, remember.”
I opened the door to the exit of the building, and she stopped in her tracks. “We’re not going up to your flat?”
“No reason to. We can go straight there. It’s just on the corner.”
She eyed me suspiciously but walked through the plate glass doors. “Summer in London is the best,” she said.
“When it’s sunny,” I said, heading right out of my building. The six of us took it in turns to nominate the pub we had our drinks in but over the years we’d settled on three. Tonight, it was my turn, which meant we’d spend the evening around the corner from my flat.
“And not too humid,” she said.
“And you don’t have to sit in traffic.”
“And you don’t have to work,” she replied. “Let me rephrase. Sunny, not humid, workless, traffic-less, summer evenings in London are the best.”
I nodded. I couldn’t argue with that. “And kicking back with friends is the best way to spend those evenings.”
“Agreed. Oh, the Punchbowl?” she asked, tipping her head back to look at the sign as the softening sunlight caught the strands of her hair. “This is the one Guy Richie owns?”
“He sold it,” I said, peeling my eyes from her and opening the door, indicating for her to go before me. “Years ago. Trust me, it’s nice.” It was my favorite pub in London. It was like an old-fashioned place that had been polished up and made to look nice. And that kind of suited me.
“It’s Mayfair. Of course it’s going to be nice,” she said. We headed inside, and she looked around. “Gosh, it’s a lot bigger on the inside.”
It had plenty of choice when it came to the beer, which the boys enjoyed, and the dark wood and red leather chairs gave it an authentic feel.
“This okay?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Sure. But I bet you can’t get Dom Perignon here,” she said.
“I wouldn’t bet on it. Grab that table and I’ll go and order. You want champagne?”
“I really don’t. Wine, please.”
“What kind of wine?”
“The house white is fine.”
I’d ordered Danielle house wine once. Jesus, she’d been pissed off at me. Apparently, no one drank house wine, and on top of that I was supposed to have remembered the kind of wine she preferred. Apparently, I’d found the only person in London who drank house wine.
It was tradition that whoever got to the pub first ordered drinks for everyone, even if it meant beers went flat.
It wasn’t a complicated order, but I took the barmaid through it three times just to make sure she had it, then returned to our large, round table with a tray of seven drinks.
It looked like Stella and I were in for a big night but the boys would be here soon enough.
“So did you guys work together? Grow up together? How do you know each other?”
“Duke of Edinburgh,” I replied. “Gangs had just started to build up on our estate when I was a teenager and my mum thought that weekends working toward something positive like the Duke of Edinburgh award—spending time outdoors, climbing mountains, and volunteering—would keep me out of prison. And it did.” A number of the kids I’d gone to school with had ended up doing time.
“And you stayed in touch all these years?”
“Yeah. Took three years to get all three awards. And it introduced me to a different future. Did you do it?” I asked as I took a seat on one of the low stools.
She shook her head. “I knew people who did, but I was indoorsy rather than outdoorsy. Is that what you enjoyed? The hiking? You climb a lot of mountains, right?”
“That’s part of it,” I replied. “But because kids from all over the area, from all different schools and backgrounds all did the award together, I met people who wanted more out of a life than just staying out of jail or to be a drug dealer,” I said as I transferred the last pint glass from the tray to the table.
I’d been the only kid from my school to do the Duke of Edinburgh award, and I hadn’t told a soul in my class.
I learned early not to hand my enemies ammunition.
“The kids from other areas had different stories to tell, completely different lives. And I realized my fate wasn’t fixed—I didn’t have to stay on the estate where I grew up.
” I took a breath in, still sensing the gratitude I had for stumbling onto the Duke of Edinburgh award.
If I hadn’t seen that poster tacked up on the notice board by the assembly hall and surreptitiously gone and taken a photograph when I’d been excused to use the loo during a geography lesson, I might have had a very different life.
“There was a girl that we did the silver medal with who ended up sailing across the Atlantic—her and her mate. Amazing. They were the youngest all-girl crew to ever do it. Seeing those aspirations in other people sows seeds. The beginning of my ambition was born spending time with the others on the course, understanding what was out there in the world for me, sharing our hopes and dreams for the future. I discovered my grit and determination. By the end of those three years, I’d built the foundations of the man I’d become and made the five best friends it was possible to make. ”
“Beck, that’s amazing.”
Stella’s eyes were sparkling, and she seemed genuinely enthralled by my story.
But it was amazing. For all of us. Those hours climbing up and down mountains in the rain, snow, and unbearable heat, volunteering with disadvantaged kids, raising money for the homeless—they had been the time of my life.
“Speaking of—here’s Dexter,” I said, glancing at the door.
Dexter arrived at the table and his gaze slid from me to Stella and back again, his eyebrows receding farther into his hairline with every second that passed.
“Hey, mate,” I said. “You’ve heard about Stella.” I gestured next to me.
“Oh, right. You two are going to the wedding together.” He kissed Stella on each cheek before taking a seat next to her.
“That’s the plan,” I said before Stella could start on how impossible it would be.
“And you’re friends now?” he asked.
“We’re getting there,” I replied. “As I’m going as Stella’s plus one, we thought it would be good to spend some time together.”
“He’s pretending to be my boyfriend, so I need to know everything about him. I’m hoping as his friends, you’ll be able to fill me in on all the stuff he doesn’t want to tell me.”
Dexter shot her a grin that said he’d just won the lottery. “I’m pretty sure we can manage that.”
“Manage what?” Joshua asked as he approached the table, setting his wallet down before noticing Stella. I swore one of these days he was going to walk right into the road because he was thinking up some complicated algorithm or something.
“Joshua, Stella. Stella, Joshua.” I should have ensured we arrived late, that way we only had to do introductions once.
“We have to rake up every awful thing we know about Beck to tell Stella,” Dexter said.
“This isn’t a Vegas residency—we’re here for one night only,” Joshua replied.
I really should have briefed them before bringing Stella. They were joking, but I wasn’t sure what would send Stella running in the opposite direction of the wedding. The last thing I needed was for these guys to destroy my last chance to meet Henry.
By the time Andrew arrived, Stella already knew I was shit at football.
I didn’t bother to add that it was because I hated the game.
By the time we’d all sunk our first pints, Stella was almost through her glass of wine and the flush in her cheeks and her near-constant smile suited her.
Apparently laughing at my expense relaxed her.
“His legs were so thin, he could have slid down a plughole,” Dexter said.
“Fuck off,” I said. “I was just lean, that’s all.”
“Spindly more like,” Tristan said. “My mum used to pack chocolate bars into my rucksack to give you. She thought you were malnourished.”
“That’s a lie. You never gave me any chocolate.”
“Of course not. I kept it for myself.” Tristan shrugged as if I were stupid.
“You all did all the levels together?” Stella asked.
“Yeah. We all did bronze, silver, and gold, so it took a while,” Tristan said. “Years. I couldn’t shake these guys even if I wanted to.”
“One of the best things I’ve ever done in my life, even if it did mean I hung out with this lot of losers,” Dexter said. “Getting all three medals is one of the achievements in my life I’m most proud of.”
I nodded and looked up to see the other four guys nodding too.
Tristan was a billionaire who’d built up his online pharmaceutical distribution business from scratch.
Dexter was a diamond dealer and as sharp a man as I’d ever met.
All six of us were the best in our field.
We all had a lot to be proud of. But Duke of Edinburgh would make top three on our list of accomplishments any day of the week.
We all owed a good portion of our success to the skills we developed during those times.