Chapter 20 #2
At that moment, my absolution came in the shape of Odette Douglas.
She leaned in the truck. “Oh, Simon. I saw Nigella, but she mustn’t have heard me calling as she slammed her door quickish.
Probably trying to contain Arden’s vicious, brutish mutt.
But how are you, darling? Me? I’m so fatigued.
Gosh, pregnancy is tiring. Lucky you, gay men don’t have families, so you’ll never have children and won’t ever have to worry about anything like that. ”
Sonia finally answered.
“Arden, thank God. You’re alive.”
“Were you worried I might not be?” Wish I wasn’t having this conversation next to an employee of the British Government.
“Well, after I— ahem, was told about the break-in on Sunday, I was so worried. Dhapinder and Trevor were spitting tacks. Even Dad had to tell them to calm down or leave. Dhaps looked like she wanted to kill someone.”
“Yeah, about that …”
“Oh my God!”
“Yeah.”
“That’s it. I can’t work there any longer. I have to quit. I have to get out. They’re crazy.”
“Uh, no, don’t do that. Wait a few weeks, maybe a month. Take some time off, say the break-in shook you up. And then wait a bit, and then quit. Okay?”
Sonia blubbed for five minutes, telling me how sorry she was. “I had to lie to Adebayo!” she cried. Simon drummed his fingers on the dashboard.
“Uh-huh, listen, I gotta go. But ring Nigella. She’s waiting on your call and has a shoulder ready to cry on.”
Eventually, Sonia hung up, and I turned to Simon. “Right, ready.” He wound the window up even as Odette was still talking.
“What was all that about?” he asked.
I made a face. “Just another aspect of my life that’s spiralling out of control.”
Simon said nothing. He started the engine, and we set sail for London.
It wasn’t long after we started driving that the inevitable silence overtook us. Simon cleared his throat. I looked at him. He said nothing.
As we made our way past Sittingston, he cleared his throat again. This time, he tried to say something. Eventually, words left his mouth. “Sorry if I’ve been a bit judgemental to you. Especially that time I woke you up.”
I frowned. “When exactly?”
“When I turned up at your house, and you’d been asleep all day. I didn’t mean to make you feel … I understand how horrible the situation with Tarquin was; I shouldn’t have judged you for going through things.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. You’re entitled to have emotions, and I acted like a wanker.” He exhaled. This was costing him. “I know you’re angry with me, but I … do care, Arden. If you need to talk, I’m happy to listen. That’s what I was trying to say that day.”
He steadfastly focused on the road.
It was me who cleared my throat this time. “Thank you. If I’m honest, no, I’m not okay.”
He looked at me, finally.
“I haven’t spoken to anyone about everything …
I hoped it’d go away. But – I’m not struggling per se, or—” I tried to find the right words.
“I feel … I feel like I’m in a fog. Like, I’ve woken up from a nap and no matter what I do – however many showers I take, or how many coffees I drink or walks in the fresh air I go on – I can’t seem to shake this feeling.
Like, I’m looking at my life happening through a window.
Like, there’s a pane of glass up between me and everything else in the world. I’m one step removed from it all.”
“Arden,” Simon said firmly. “I’m not a doctor or anything, so please take this with the biggest grain of salt, but I’m pretty sure that’s a sign of clinical depression.”
“Oh.”
I screwed my face up. “I don’t feel depressed. Okay, I’m not jumping out of bed in the morning, and …”
I felt his hand touch mine.
“It’s okay.”
“I don’t want pills and doctors prodding about in my life,” I whispered.
“Maybe talking about it will help?”
“What, with you?”
Simon frowned. “I have … friends who have had similar things. Been through similar bouts. I know my role is to be a mate and listen, ask how they’re doing.”
“Okay.”
“So, how are you doing?” he said, flashing me a grin.
“Pretty shit, to be honest. My career is in the toilet, I found a dead body a few weeks ago, my ex tried to kill me, someone else tried to run me over, and now I have to go visit my other ex who cheated on me but wants to get back together, and you’re mad at me because I slept with Errol Mottley—”
“No, I’m not,” he said too quickly.
“Yes, you are.”
“Arden.” He paused, took a deep breath. “Your sex life is your own. We’ve discovered that we have very different viewpoints on sex. I just wish you made better decisions for yourself.”
“I make perfectly good decisions. It’s not like I intend for them to keep blowing up in my face.”
“Maybe I’ve been a bit too casual over the years. But you, you’re not like that. Everything leaves a mark on you.”
He didn’t need to act like he knew me. Or cared. “I’ve had my share of poor choices that ended up being perfectly enjoyable. I haven’t shattered at them.” I said.
“Right,” he said firmly. He put his hand into a karate chop shape and began tapping the dashboard as he laid out his points. “But I want you to look after yourself. You’re a good-looking guy. People are going to be drawn to you, and some of them aren’t going to have your best interests at heart.”
I scoffed. “I’m average looking.”
He stared at me – for several seconds. “Eyes on the road, please. You’re doing seventy-five,” I said.
He made a choking sound. After a few seconds, he shook his head. “Jesus Christ, you have no idea, do you?” He shook his head again. “You’re not faking it? All this time, I thought you were playing coy and innocent.”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“Arden,” he said, in a tone of voice that made me think this was physically painful for him. “Why do you think men are constantly throwing themselves at you?”
He stopped talking. There was a silence for several seconds, where I tried to work out whether he was pulling my leg or not. Oh my God, he wasn’t.
My reaction was instinctive: I laughed. Oh, how I laughed. I kept laughing. Several minutes later, I was still laughing. Clutching-at-my-sides laughing. “You cannot be serious.”
He shrugged. “You are the best-looking person I’ve ever slept with.
I’ve seen some of the men Tarquin hooked up with – he’s had models and dated Eurotrash party boys.
You are better looking than them. Guy isn’t exactly a slouch either; he’s had a couple of boyfriends I’ve met over the years who were real head-turners, and yet, he couldn’t wait five minutes to ask you out. ”
I made small stuttering noises. “I’m … okay looking,” I said eventually.
“I’m not trying to give you an ego. Actually, maybe you could use it. Your self-esteem needs some work.”
I was silent for a few minutes, watching the countryside go past. I knew I was okay looking … my mother used to tell me I was her Angel-Faced boy. But I was the baby of the family, so of course she would tell me how cute I was.
Loads of men had leered at me in bars. But … huh. Maybe.
I rubbed at a speck of dirt on the window. After a few more minutes, I spoke again. “Did you tell Riz we slept together?”
Simon looked at me and then shook his head. “No, he … Well, I think he worked it out. He must have put the timeline together in his head and gave me a look when you came to Honningtons that night.”
I nodded.
“Do you regret sleeping with me?” I asked in a small voice.
“No, not at all,” he said. “It was fun, and we both needed it.” There was a long, pregnant pause. “I’m sorry that it got in the way of us becoming friends.” He paused again. “I’m sorry that I let it get in the way of us becoming friends.”
I nodded. Simon had no idea that I’d fancied – or still fancied, maybe – him.
That I’d been desperately hurt he hadn’t wanted to see me again or have anything more from me.
The information that Simon thought I was good-looking was churning in my gut.
However, it seemed like his good opinion was mirrored by an equal feeling that I was a bit unstable and vacant.
And that I invited too many men into my bed.
‘I wish you made better decisions.’ Hardly a ringing endorsement.
We were quiet again as the countryside whizzed past. It was blazing hot outside, and Simon turned the air con in the car up high, which made conversation harder over the noise.
But I tried, my anxiety gnawing at me. “Do you really think Ollie will be able to help?”
Simon shrugged.
“I don’t want you to get your hopes up,” I said. “You think I know what I’m doing, but I have no idea.”
He rolled his eyes. “Now you tell me.”
“Simon, I’m being serious, there’s a good chance this is a weird coincidence.
Don’t build up your hopes; we’re not going to walk into Ollie’s office and he’ll go, Oh, of course, the man with the smoking gun who was in here two weeks ago.
Yes, his name is Bob and here’s his address and phone number. ”
“Yes, of course I fucking know,” he snapped. “I’m not an idiot.”
“I’m just saying, I don’t know how things work in spy world, where you pretend to be a handyman or whatever, but it was dumb luck that I found Tarquin—”
“Yeah, I get it, Arden, thank you. You can stop talking now,” he said tersely.
“Not trying to belittle—”
“Stop. Talking.”
He said it through gritted teeth and then switched on the radio to avoid any further conversation.
I slumped back in my seat and decided to stay silent until we got to London. Old Simon had returned. The veil had lifted for a second but was now firmly back down. Judgey, sensible Simon still thought Arden was suspicious and slutty.
I dared to give him a quick look. He was staring at the road resolutely, his jaw tense. Probably regretted getting in this car with me.
Eventually, London appeared on the horizon, and I spoke up to navigate Simon to Ollie’s office. “It’s in Temple, so you’ll—”
“Yeah, I know where I’m going.”
“There’s a car park on Bouverie Street that we could—”
“I said, I know where I’m going, thanks.”