Chapter 19 #3
‘No, not at the moment.’ He met her gaze across the table and shot her one of his intimate looks.
They used to make her go weak at the knees.
‘I was in a relationship for the last couple of years, but we broke up a few months ago. Alice is a historian, specialising in Medieval History. She’s English, and she moved back there. She’s lecturing at Oxford now.’
Trust Andrew to lead with his girlfriend’s academic credentials!
She was just asking about his love life, not looking to book her for a lecture series.
But he’d always done the same with her whenever he was introducing her to someone, as if she was defined by her degrees and qualifications. He was such an intellectual snob.
‘Is that why you split up? Because she wanted to move back to England?’
‘Not entirely. Her getting offered the job at Oxford was the catalyst, but we could have made it work, if we’d really been committed to each other.’
‘But you weren’t?’
‘Not enough, in the end. What about you?’
‘I haven’t had the time – or, most importantly, the energy – for a relationship. There hasn’t been anyone since you. But my social life is picking up.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yeah, I’m really liking living with Roly, and I go out with the crowd from work most Fridays for drinks, and karaoke.’
‘Karaoke!’ He gave a hoot of laughter. ‘Oh God, poor you!’
‘It’s fun! I enjoy it.’
‘Seriously?’ He gave her a pitying look. ‘I feel like I hardly know you.’
Yeah, she thought. Same.
‘And I can’t imagine you and Roly have much in common. I mean, he seems like a nice guy, but what do you find to talk about?’
‘Plenty,’ she said with a shrug. ‘TV, music, films, our families, the news of the day… you know, what everyone talks about.’
‘Well, I suppose it can’t all be sitting around discussing Heidegger,’ he said with a supercilious smile.
Thank goodness!
‘Did you see that documentary about Rothko on TV the other night?’
‘No, I missed that.’
‘It was brilliant! You know I don’t watch much TV, but every so often there’s something worthwhile that makes me glad I didn’t get rid of it.’
‘I think it was probably on at the same time as Celebrity Masterchef.’
‘Good lord, is that what you’re reduced to?’
‘It’s good, I like it. And it’s interesting because Alex Sutton is in it – you know, from Oh Boy! He’s doing really well. Last week he made this amazing chocolate soufflé that reduced John Torode to tears.’
‘Who?’ Andrew screwed up his face, and she wanted to slap it. He knew damn well who John Torode was… probably. Actually, now she thought about it, there was probably a good chance he genuinely didn’t.
‘Well, there’s a Wim Wenders season starting at the IFI next week. Why don’t we go to something?’
‘Sure. As long as it’s not Friday.’
‘Of course. You wouldn’t want to miss karaoke night,’ he said sarcastically.
‘No. I wouldn’t.’
* * *
Roly arrived home when Andrew was lingering over coffee on the sofa and Ella was draining the dregs of the wine. He seemed to bring an air of energy and positivity into the room with him that was cheering to Ella.
‘So, how was your evening?’ she asked as he flopped into the seat beside her.
‘Great!’ A wide smile spread across his face. ‘It’s going really well.’
‘Roly’s working on some stuff with Phoenix,’ she told Andrew smugly.
She knew he’d be impressed by that, though he’d hate to admit it.
He was a massive Walking Wounded fan. He used to have posters of them on the wall of his room in uni, and he could bore on about them for hours to anyone who’d listen, as if they were some esoteric band that he’d discovered.
‘Phoenix? Really?’ he said to Roly.
‘Yeah, we’re writing some songs together.’
‘Wow!’
‘And Roly’s going to sing with them at the Aviva in September,’ Ella said, relishing being able to wrong-foot him like this. He’d be shocked to think of someone like Roly getting the seal of approval from a band of Walking Wounded’s stature.
‘Well done!’
‘Are you going?’ Ella asked him.
‘Yes, I’ve got tickets. Actually, I have a spare one now, if you want to come with me?’
He’d been going with Alice, she supposed. ‘Thanks, but Roly will be getting me a ticket.’
‘And a backstage pass,’ Roly put in.
Andrew looked green. She could tell he was torn between admitting what a fanboy he was in the hope that Roly would get him backstage, too, and acting cool and above it all.
‘I wasn’t that sure about their last album,’ he said. ‘I mean, I enjoyed it, but I didn’t think it was their best. I feel they’ve gone very commercial in the last couple of years.’
Of course he’d go for the ungracious option. ‘Yeah,’ she said, ‘and naturally a rock band would want to avoid being commercial at all costs.’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘Yes. I do.’ She knew all too well. He meant that if Roly was involved, it could only be because Walking Wounded’s stock was down.
It was a ridiculous thing to say anyway – they were one of the biggest bands in the world, not some little indie group that only Andrew and a few of his friends knew about.
Of course they were commercial. He was just jealous.
‘I could get you a backstage pass, too, if you like?’ Roly said to Andrew. ‘If you two want to go together.’
Ella was pleased he’d been the bigger man by offering – it was generous of him when Andrew was being such a nob. But she was annoyed too because it was more than Andrew deserved.
‘Do you mind if I watch Masterchef?’ Roly nodded to the TV. ‘Did you record it?’ he asked Ella.
‘Yeah, I did. And it’s fine.’
‘I want to see it before I see who went out on social media.’
‘Let’s all watch it!’ Ella said brightly, trying not to laugh. She could practically feel Andrew grinding his teeth.
She’d thought it would be a suitable punishment for Andrew, but she was sorry she’d suggested it as he yawned and snarked his way through the show, making it obvious he was bored and found it ridiculous.
She should have waited until he’d gone and watched it with Roly.
It would have been fun, just the two of them; they’d have had a laugh.
She only had herself to blame. Still, at least this evening hadn’t been a total loss. It had made one thing very clear: she didn’t want to get back with Andrew.