Nick
Nick
They order takeaway from the amazing Vietnamese place by the river and sit on the floor next to the teal sofa, eating it straight from the boxes.
‘So how’s the fella… What’s his name?’
‘Vaughan.’
‘Vaughan.’
‘He’s good. He’s… in demand. Lots of meetings. You know.’
But of course he doesn’t know. He can only guess. The second people see you as a success, they flock to you like you have some kind of secret formula you might just share with them if they’re nice to you.
‘He has way more energy than me,’ Beth adds. ‘I find him very… inspiring.’
Her eyes are shining with honesty and it’s infectious. It makes him feel inspired too.
‘I’m so happy for you. He seems like a really decent guy.’
‘He is,’ she says. ‘I was thinking the other day… Do you remember I met him after the audition for that yoghurt advert? You rang me when we were having lunch – it was just after I’d left Paulo and I was in such a state. I think it helped. A bit. You ringing me. Made me seem in demand.’
She gives an amused snort.
‘Huh,’ he says, poking his fork into his mouth. He doesn’t really understand. Surely this guy would have liked Beth even if he hadn’t called her during their lunch? How could he not?
Then it comes to him. She still doesn’t appreciate what a catch she is. He wonders what it will take to make her see it. Her star is truly on the rise – she’s basically getting UK-wide adoration and yet still she keeps putting herself down.
It’s so true that you can’t fix the internal with something external. It’s just the same as his mum. Tidying the house won’t fix what’s truly broken inside her. He’s not sure that his mum can ever be fixed. He hopes it will be different with Beth.
‘It’s funny isn’t it?’ Beth says, putting the takeaway carton down on his coffee table. ‘I mean, we’re both finally settled. Me with Vaughan, you with Maggie. It’s sort of brilliant. Given what…’
He nods.
‘Yeah,’ he says, quietly. ‘I think we’ve done alright for ourselves, all things considered.’
‘We survived,’ she says, solemnly. ‘Now, we have to thrive.’
He sniffs.
‘Do you think we deserve it though?’ she says, scratching her nose. ‘Do you think we deserve to be happy?’
‘Jesus, Beth,’ he says. He doesn’t want to think about this. Why does she always bring it up?
‘It’s just sometimes… I think… I don’t know. Life is so unfair.’
He nods.
‘I want it to be fair. I really do! It makes me cross.’
‘But it isn’t. And sitting at home being miserable won’t make any difference. It’s almost as though… I see it differently…’ He shifts onto his elbows. He has thought about this a lot, most often in the middle of the night, when he can’t sleep. ‘I see it that we have a duty to be happy, to make the most of life. Because it’s precious. You never know what’s around the corner. God, it’s clichéd and cheesy as hell but it’s true. We have to live while we can. We have to grab life with both hands and wring it to death. Like you said. We have to thrive.’
She nods.
‘It’ll be seven years tomorrow, you know,’ she says. ‘Seven years. It feels like a lifetime.’
‘Is that why you texted me today?’
‘I don’t know,’ she says. ‘I suppose anniversaries always make you look back a bit.’
They fall into silence.
‘It’s getting late,’ she says. ‘I should probably go.’
He looks at the large clock Maggie bought him for his birthday, now hanging on the wall opposite. Nearly 11 p.m.
‘You can stay if you like,’ he says, remembering when they lived together. Even though it was only for a few months, he loved it.
‘I can’t,’ she says. ‘I’m… It wouldn’t feel right.’
‘Oh,’ he says. ‘Of course.’
It’s probably for the best. He can’t imagine what Maggie would say if she knew that Beth had even been round for dinner, let alone if she found out she had stayed over.
He’ll have to be careful with the takeaway cartons. Take them and throw them in a bin outside. He can’t risk her seeing them and asking questions.
‘I’d like to meet her though,’ Beth says, reading his fears. ‘Maggie.’
‘Oh sure. One day. Maybe at the wedding,’ he says, giving a laugh that was too loud and too forced.
‘Oh!’ she says, her eyes widening. ‘So it’s really serious then?’
He bristles at her tone. The insinuation that he can’t be serious about a relationship. After all they’ve been through, can she still not see it?
‘Yes,’ he says, defensively.
‘Are you… Do you have a ring?’
‘Not yet,’ he says, feeling as though he’s slipped down a track and is now hurtling towards something completely unexpected.
She blinks. He tries to read the expression on her face, but she’s an actress and even though he fancies that he can tell when she’s acting and when she’s being herself, in this moment, he finds it impossible.
‘But that’s a big deal. I’m proud of you, Nick. I mean, you’re only twenty-six. Most blokes your age would run a mile at the thought of marriage. I guess you grew up quicker than the rest of us. After you left university.’
He tries to say something but his brain won’t formulate a response. How has it gone from this, from him sitting here, enjoying the moment with Beth, to them discussing him proposing to Maggie?
And the irony is the state of his face. The fact it feels as though someone’s taken a hammer to it.
Not someone. Maggie.
But Beth is right, of course. Maggie is twenty-nine. This is what she wants. This is how he can prove to her that he loves her. He can’t save his mum. Beth no longer needs him. But perhaps he can save Maggie.
‘Can the concierge guy get me a cab?’ Beth asks, standing up, smoothing down her stained white shirt.
‘Of course,’ he says, still feeling ten steps behind the conversation. ‘I can come down with you.’
‘No don’t be daft,’ she says, smiling at him.
Her smile changes her whole face, bringing it to life. The red lipstick she was wearing earlier has worn away and she looks more like how he remembers her.
‘I’m a big girl.’
‘Beth. This has been so…’
He takes her hand as he tries to find the right word to explain what her company means to him. But before he fully processes what’s happening, he has leaned forward, and he thinks it was meant to be just a kiss goodbye but somehow they are kissing, properly , their hands all over each other: hers raking at his hair, his tight around her waist, and it reminds him of that night on the field behind the Asylum, when the pent-up energy from those few strange weeks was unleashed, and he wants to cry with the enormity of it and then…
She pulls away, a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock.
‘I’m sorry,’ she says, and then she turns and she runs, and he knows no matter how much he wants to, it wouldn’t be fair to go after her.