Common People Social Club
Max was nervous to see Bethan after their last interaction about her having a boyfriend.
Clearly, she hadn’t been comfortable with the topic, and had disappeared quickly afterwards.
The last thing he wanted to do was ruin their friendship, so hopefully she would be OK, and it was all water under the bridge.
It was a warm summer’s evening, they were at a pub near Clapham Common, sitting outside in the beer garden, and Hope was holding court, discussing what she missed most about her life down under.
‘Apart from the people, probably the sun and the beaches. Yeah, defo the beaches. You know, when I used to work in the CBD—’
‘CBD?’ asked Anita.
‘Sorry, Central Business District. Like the town centre.’
‘What did you do there?’ asked Max, before he took a sip of his non-alcoholic beer.
‘I used to work for a bank. I know, not really me, eh, but I was young and didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. Anyway, after work in the summer, I’d head to Bondi, put on my cozzie and go for a dip in the sea. There’s nothing like a Sydney summer. Yeah, I really miss that.’
‘I bet you do, it sounds like bliss,’ said Bethan, and Max looked across at her, trying to catch her eye, but she didn’t return his gaze.
Instead, their food arrived, more drinks were bought and they all settled in for a night of drinking, eating and talking about their lives.
Max hoped for a moment alone with Bethan so they could talk, so he could apologise, and they could put whatever had happened behind them.
Max had missed nights like that. Before the accident, long pub nights with mates had been one of the mainstays of his life.
From university, his relationship with Emma and life in London, Max had spent so many evenings stashed away in pubs, talking, eating and drinking his way through his early twenties, but then after his parents died, it seemed to almost simultaneously stop.
He stopped going out like that and people stopped inviting him.
Nights in pubs weren’t for enjoyment, to socialise, but to get drunk.
To forget. They were a form of medication.
‘I spent a month in Oz in my twenties,’ said Charlie after he had taken a long pull of his pint. ‘I have literally zero memory of it, though. Beer, hostels and lots of girls.’
‘A real cultural experience then?’ replied Eve.
‘If you mean, did I have an amazing time then yeah, I did,’ replied Charlie, a broad, antagonising grin on his face, which seemed to further irritate Eve.
‘Sounds about right,’ she said pointedly, and everyone at the table took a breath, and then Joe started a conversation about the Clapham Half, and everyone moved on.
Although Max saw Eve give Charlie a look that said if she got the chance, she’d like to take him down a peg or two.
Max understood because Charlie could be annoying, childish and he seemed on the surface at least, to be quite shallow, but perhaps there were hidden depths lurking underneath his Ralph Lauren polo shirt.
Eve didn’t seem to think so, but Max saw the determination he had to run faster, the pain he was willing to go through in the cold plunge to get better, and so there was clearly something there.
Some small piece of Charlie that explained everything away.
As they ate, Max tried to engage Bethan in conversation across the table, but it was difficult, too loud with other people talking and music playing, and so he knew he would have to wait.
Instead, when Charlie got up to head to the bar, Max went with him.
Perhaps a little time alone with Charlie and he might understand him better, and maybe he might know a thing or two about Bethan and how Max should handle the situation with her.
They left the table with Anita going into great detail about all the food she was making for the weekend, and there sounded like plenty of it.
She had been cooking for hours and hours in preparation for her family to come and celebrate the life of her husband.
Just listening to her talking about the food, and Max could feel his mouth salivating. It all sounded incredible.
‘You all right?’ Max asked when he was standing at the bar with Charlie.
‘Top notch, old fella. Why?’
‘Oh, just you and Eve always seem to be going at it.’
‘Just bants,’ replied Charlie as they waited at the bar to be served.
It was a busy night, and the bar was two deep.
Max heard other accents with Australian being one of the most prominent.
Max knew there was a strong Aussie contingent in Clapham, which was why maybe Hope felt so at home there.
Although hearing her earlier, and seeing the expression on her face when she spoke about Sydney, it was clear her love for Australia was strong.
‘I’m not sure it’s all banter from her perspective, mate.’
‘Yeah, you think?’
‘I don’t know either of you well, but it seems like you two are always arguing.’
‘S’pose that’s true. Fire away, old boy. What do you want to know about me? I’m an open book.’
‘Really? An open book?’
Charlie laughed. ‘Yes, mate. I learned a long time ago that keeping things bottled up doesn’t help anyone. What do you want to know? Ask me anything.’
‘I suppose, what’s your story? When I joined the group, Bethan said that everyone had a story, even you.’
He laughed. ‘She said that, did she?’
‘She did.’
‘Well, she’s not wrong. Let’s step outside though, it’s a bit loud in here.’
Max was surprised that Charlie was being so forthcoming, but he followed him outside to the front of the pub, and they stood there for a moment, enjoying the evening sunshine.
It was still summer and wouldn’t get dark for hours yet.
Max enjoyed the summer evenings in London when they were like that.
He turned and looked at Charlie, before he spoke, his public-school voice that was usually so confident was a little softer than usual.
‘Truth is, mate, I had a bit of a breakdown in my late-twenties. I had been working hard in finance since uni, burning the candle at both ends, too much booze, drugs and the pressure of work, I ended up having an episode. It’s what the doctor called it anyway. An episode. I had a mental breakdown.’
‘Shit, Charlie, I had no idea. You seem so—’
‘Together? On top of things? A legend? That was a big part of the problem. I grew up in a world where failure wasn’t an option.
My father’s a barrister, and my older brother is a top-notch surgeon.
Even my mother runs a successful party planning business from their house in Oxford.
I didn’t have the intellect for law or medicine, so working in finance was the easy option.
Plenty of money, full of old chums from school, but the pressure is relentless.
I pretended I was OK for so long, medicated with alcohol and drugs, but it caught up with me.
Anyway, I ended up taking six months off work, I moved home, got better and got into running.
When I came back to London, the first thing I did was join a run club.
It keeps me sane, keeps me off the drugs, and it gives me purpose. More marching, less powder!’
Max didn’t know what to say. Charlie seemed like your typical posh city-boy, full of bluster and bravado, but Max could see that underneath it, there was something else.
There were layers to Charlie like there were layers to everyone in the group.
He was just a boy trying to make his parents proud, trying to keep up with his brother, and the pressure of success had burned him out.
London could do that to you, if you weren’t careful.
Even Max had felt it at times. The constant barrage of noise, of places to go, things to do, goals to achieve and everyone else always seemed to be doing more, handling it better, and if you let your guard down for a moment, it could easily get the better of you.
‘I’m sorry to hear that, Charlie.’
‘No worries. All water under the bridge now, fella. I’ve never been happier or healthier. It’s all about balance, you know. What about you?’
‘What about me?’
‘What’s your story? If everyone’s got one, what’s yours?’
Max didn’t know what to say, and suddenly faced with the question, he felt himself panicking.
He already knew his face was turning red, his eyes were probably giving him away, but fortunately before he had to reply, Robbie came walking up.
Max had texted him earlier, and Robbie had said he might pop in.
‘Robbie, this is Charlie,’ said Max, relieved to see his flatmate. ‘Charlie, Robbie.’
‘Hello, mate,’ said Charlie, back to his usual confident self. ‘Sandwich bloke, right?’
‘Aye,’ replied Robbie, and they shook hands.
‘My favourite is cheese and pickle on a white bloomer. A lunchbox classic,’ said Charlie, before the three of them walked back inside, and Charlie said he was going to get a round in, which given the price of drinks in Clapham, was no small financial feat.
Max took Robbie through to the beer garden, introducing him to everyone, before Max returned to the bar to give Charlie a hand with the drinks.
Once they returned, everyone finished up their food and they all sat around talking, smaller conversations breaking off within the larger group.
Joe and Anita were having a conversation about food, with Joe discussing his love of proper old-school London grub, and he was sharing his favourite places to eat in the capital.
He was London born and bred and being a cabbie, knew the best places to eat and drink anywhere within Greater London.
Interestingly, Robbie was sitting next to Eve, and they were deep in conversation, and Hope was chatting to Charlie, and so that left Max and Bethan, staring across the table at each other.
‘Can I have a word?’ asked Max, nodding in the direction of the pub, where they could be alone.
Bethan didn't reply, but stood up, and so Max stood up, and followed Bethan inside. They found a table for two and sat down together. Max wasn’t sure exactly what it was he wanted to say, but he knew it needed to start with an apology.
‘Bethan, I’m sorry if I said something the other day to upset you.
You have to know it wasn’t my intention. ’
‘It’s fine, honestly,’ replied Bethan, but Max could see something on her face that let him know it wasn’t entirely all right. There was a tiny fragment of unease in her expression that let him know that whatever it was he had said, there was something troubling her about it.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, totally. One hundred per cent,’ said Bethan with a smile, and the small amount of uneasiness seemed to slip away.
‘Good, that’s good, because I’d hate for you to—’
‘We should probably head back and join the others,’ said Bethan quickly, standing up. She smiled at him, he apprehensively smiled back at her, before they rejoined the group, where it seemed Robbie was captivating everyone with his opinion on the best sandwich fillings.
‘It’s got to be something rich, full of flavour, preferably Scottish,’ said Robbie.
‘I think you can’t beat a nice Coronation Chicken,’ said Anita.
‘It’s a bacon sarnie for me,’ said Joe. ‘On cheap as chips white bread and loadsa HP sauce!’
‘A Vegemite and cheese toastie!’ chipped in Hope. ‘An Aussie classic.’
‘Irish cheddar and onion,’ said Eve. ‘With Tayto salt and vinegar crisps.’
Everyone looked towards Bethan. ‘The JOE’s Club from Joe & the Juice. Sorry, bit boring.’
‘No judgements here,’ said Hope. ‘What about you, Max? Favourite sandwich?’
‘The Scotsman!’ said Max and everyone looked at him with curious expressions. ‘Robbie’s latest creation. Neeps, tatties, black pudding, red onion and chili jam, and mature cheese, toasted to perfection on his homemade sourdough bread.’
‘That sounds incredible,’ said Eve, looking at Robbie, a tantalising grin on her face.
‘If youse ever near the flat, I’d be happy to make you one,’ replied Robbie with a cheeky smile, and Max was sure he saw Eve blushing.
It seemed that the romantic comedy author may have just found her new leading man.
Max, on the other hand, still wasn’t entirely sure where he stood with Bethan.
He just hoped that whatever was going on with them, it was something he could fix because he couldn’t stand the thought that she hated him.
She had claimed that everything was fine, but clearly something was still bothering her, and he really needed to find out what.
As he looked at Bethan, smiling and laughing at something with Joe, he was lost for a moment, imagining them being closer, perhaps even dating, but it felt like something so far away, like a holiday you had booked a year out, and you were counting down the days on a calendar, wishing them away until the day of departure finally arrived.