Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ollie
I’m holding flowers and a pot plant and a bottle of champagne.
Three gifts are too many, I realise now, as I fumble with my door key and try to find my wallet.
Although I’m not sure which is the item that’s a bit extra.
Possibly the pot plant? But that’s what you buy when people move into a new home, isn’t it?
Or is it? It’s too late now. I’m not good at plants, so I might as well give it to Aury and see if she fares any better.
In the end I decide to hail a taxi. I can’t possibly handle this lot, and getting on and off the Tube is going to be nothing but aggravation.
It feels weird, going to see Aury in her new flat, after all this time.
I’ve lost track of how long it’s been since I saw her, since we met in the pub for a drink.
I had to keep that news from Ben. I’ll have to keep this secret too.
As I climb out of the taxi I have to check the address she sent me against the sleek urban building in front of me.
‘Jesus!’ Aury has gone up in the world since the days of our house-share.
I push the number for her flat, but in front of me a suited concierge lets me in, then greets me warmly as if he’s known me all his life when I give him my name and tell him who I’m here to see.
He pushes the button in the lift for me and uses a swipe-card to make sure it goes to the correct floor.
There is nothing about this that isn’t weird.
The floor-to-ceiling mirrored lift opens directly into Aury’s flat, which is even more surprising, and she’s already on the other side of the doors, there to greet me: jeans, vest top, bare feet and newly blonde hair in some kind of bun on top of her head.
I wish she wasn’t so pretty. I wish she was really ugly. I’d find this much easier.
‘Ollie,’ she says, jumping up and down like a child with sweets.
‘Hi,’ I say from behind all the presents I’m holding.
She wants to hug me, but we can’t, so I put everything down, as behind me the lift doors close and I hear it whir back to the ground floor.
Aury pulls me in and holds me, all warmth, shiny hair and some sort of intoxicating fragrance that shouldn’t be allowed. Then she draws back and looks at me.
‘You look different,’ she says. ‘It’s been way too long since I saw you.’
I know,’ I reply pointlessly. I take in my surroundings or, rather, her surroundings and my eyes widen. ‘This place is …’
‘It’s mental,’ Aury replies with a laugh. ‘I know.’
‘I try not to say that word now. Since I started the mental-health modules, it’s a bit tactless.’ Oh, for fuck’s sake, Ollie. Why did you say that?
She closes her mouth in surprise, then opens it again and says quietly, ‘Of course. I’m sorry.’
‘No, I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I said that.’ Oliver Harris, what the fuck is wrong with you? Shut up. Shut up! ‘But you’re right. It is mental.’ There you go. Fixed it. Maybe. I think I’m just nervous.
Aury looks at me as if she’s not sure whether I’m joking or not. I’ve sucked the fun right out of the room.
‘I have presents.’ I try to claw the situation back.
‘Really? Where?’ she jokes, as if she can’t see them lying haphazardly on the floor.
I crouch down. ‘What do you want first?’
‘The fizz, please.’
‘It’s still cold. Just about.’
‘Let’s put it in the freezer for a tiny top-up.’
I hand her the bottle of champagne and she races off to an oversized American fridge-freezer and puts it inside. I follow her and am rather surprised to see an assortment of frozen chips, frozen burgers and other food that I wouldn’t have expected a model to eat.
‘What’s with the McCain oven-fries situation? Have you taken out shares?’ I ask as I place the pot plant and the flowers on a white marble countertop.
‘My mum. I can’t make her stop. If she sees a special offer, she’s all over it. But we never actually eat it, as I’m trying to get her to stop buying processed food. It’s a challenge. Meanwhile … if you want six bags of oven-chips, help yourself.’
I laugh. ‘How is your mum?’
‘Working, enjoying life, partying like a teenager. Same old, same old.’
‘I remember her on the first day of uni,’ I tell Aury. ‘She wanted to party. You wanted her to go.’
‘Feels like a lifetime ago. And she’s out much of the time now,’ Aury replies. ‘She’s out at the moment. On a date, I think. Or bingo with her friends. But cool bingo – you know, where they stop it all the time and you have a dance and do shots.’
‘Sounds fun. Why aren’t you with her?’
‘Because I wanted to be here with you,’ she replies, and my insides jump about a bit.
‘Ah well, great.’ I’ve got to stop saying silly shit. I don’t know what to say now.
‘Those for me?’ she asks, pointing to the countertop.
‘Yes. No. The flowers are for your mum. The plant is for you.’
‘You’re so thoughtful. My mum already loves you. This will seal the deal. I’ll pop them in a vase for her, but they’re staying out here, so I can enjoy them too. The plant, though … this could go either way. I’m not here enough to water it. Can we give that to her too?’
‘It’s an umbrella plant. It’s practically indestructible. You’ve basically got to water it with battery acid in order to kill it.’
‘Oh, phew.’ Aury takes it from me and puts it at the end of the long central island. It’s only about a foot tall. She looks at it appraisingly. ‘My first plant.’
Why don’t I know what to say? Why is my chat always so bad with her?
‘How’s it going with the girl from your course?’ she asks.
‘Which one?’ I reply, frowning.
‘Which one?’ she echoes. ‘How many are you dating?’
‘Just one at a time,’ I say. ‘But I’m not sure how many I’ve told you about, so …’
Her eyebrows lift. ‘Ollie, are you a woman-magnet? What’s going on? Tell me everything.’
She leads me over to the sofa and forces confessions out of me about which girls I’ve been dating, which ones I’ve really liked, which ones I haven’t, which ones have dumped me after two dates (lots) and which ones I’ve dumped (just one).
She’s curious about the reasons why and baulks when I tell her.
‘She didn’t like Chinese food?’ Aury questions.
‘No, no. She didn’t like any food that wasn’t grown locally. It was getting to be a bit of a drain, given we’re in North London and we’re not exactly overrun with farms. Two dates and I was done.’
‘Oh, Ollie,’ she laughs and then gets up to remove the bottle from the freezer. ‘People are strange.’
‘Yeah. It’s hard to find someone who actually turns out to be normal.’
She brings over the champagne, pours it into two glasses and we say ‘Cheers’ before she moves next to me on the sofa again, turning to face me. Aury’s so effortless.
‘I saw Liv last week,’ she says, watching me. ‘We grabbed lunch and then went shopping.’
‘As usual?’ I dare.
‘Ha, yes. As usual. Topshop in Oxford Street’s gone now, though. Total disaster. I might have had a little cry,’ she admits.
‘It’s a good thing for you that Topshop’s gone. I read it’s going to be an Ikea.’
Her eyes light up. ‘Is it?’
‘Nothing ever changes. How’s Liv?’
‘Doing well. Going to be a barrister, I think.’
‘So I’ve heard. We speak a bit here and there, but mostly we’ve gone our separate ways. Good luck to her. She’s doing well. Better off without me.’
‘Do you really think so?’ Aury asks with a hint of relief. ‘I don’t want to sound disloyal, but I think you’re both better off without each other.’
I nod, because she’s right.
‘Same as me and Ben.’
I nod again and then I think about that properly. ‘No, I don’t think that’s true actually. I don’t think Ben’s better off without you. But you’re better off without him.’ I don’t want her to take that the wrong way. I don’t want her to get back with him.
She looks into her glass, processing what I’ve said. ‘Hmm, maybe,’ she agrees. ‘How is Ben? I don’t want you to think I don’t care about him. I don’t want him to think I don’t still care about him.’
‘He’s doing OK. He’s a little up and down. But he’s … Ben. One minute he’s a total nightmare and the next he’s offering to cook dinner.’
‘It’s nice that he’s got you,’ Aury says. ‘It’s nice you stuck it out. You didn’t have to, you know. You still don’t have to.’
How do I say that I’ve got no other real friends? I’m not sure I can. That sounds a bit sad. It is sad. ‘He’s my best mate, believe it or not.’
‘You do more for him than he does for you.’
‘Hmm,’ I say, not quite believing this. ‘Be that as it may. It’s Ben, you know?’
‘I know. I miss the four of us being together,’ she confesses.
‘Me too. It’s not the same now.’
‘I know. I’m not necessarily sure it’s better,’ she continues.
‘Really? Look at this place.’
‘I know. But it’s … lonely. In a way.’
That’s interesting. I feel the same. ‘Even with your mum here?’
‘She’s hardly ever here. I’m hardly ever here. My job is weird. But I’m determined to make as much money as I can while I can, so I just need to keep going.’
‘Is it making you sad?’ I ask, positioning my body so that I’m angled more towards her on the sofa.
‘Not sad. I’m lucky, and I know I am. But I wish things were different. I wish the four of us still lived together. I wish …’
‘Hey,’ I say soothingly as she looks as if she’s going to cry. It’s awkward, but I pull her towards me and she comes willingly and we hug each other.
‘I miss you. I miss Ben, believe it or not. The four of us – it was the most fun I’ve ever had. We were a family,’ she says.
‘We could be again, you know.’
‘Could we? How?’
‘Why don’t we all get together? See how it goes? If you want to, that is?’
‘I do … but doesn’t Ben hate me?’
‘Doesn’t Liv hate Ben?’ I counter.
‘I think “hate” is a strong word,’ she replies. ‘I think she needed distance. We haven’t spoken about it recently, though. But I can again?’
‘Maybe I can sound both of them out. It’ll be a nice way for me to reconnect with Liv.’
‘A nice way?’ Aury asks.
‘Well, it’ll be a way. And Ben doesn’t hate you. He’s angry with himself that he couldn’t keep you. That he couldn’t make it work. That he lost you.’
‘I’m angry with him for that too. Or, rather, I was. Does he know you’re here?’
She asks it innocently enough, but it’s too late. I’ve tensed up and she knows I’m lying when I say, ‘Yeah.’
‘He doesn’t, does he?’
‘No. He’d be fuming. He was fuming when we met up ages ago. If Ben finds out you and I … If he knows I’m anywhere near you again, he’ll get the wrong idea into his head and—’ I shrug. I don’t dare say it.
Aury looks surprised at that. ‘Even after all this time, he still thinks you and I might …?’ She’s not saying it, either.
We’ve only spoken about this once, Aury and me, way back when.
We’ve only brushed the surface of Ben’s paranoia.
I feel disloyal even calling it that, because given half a chance I would have tried it on with Aury.
I did have half a chance. Back then, at uni.
Day one. I did nothing with that chance.
So Ben isn’t paranoid about how I feel about her.
But he might be, if he thinks Aury likes me in return.
‘Yeah. He still thinks it. He’s nothing if not honest,’ I say quietly.
‘Oh,’ she replies and looks into her champagne flute. ‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘What is there to say?’ I reply. Although I really want to know what she honestly thinks about this.
But what does it matter? Because if there was even the faintest glimmer that Aury liked me, we couldn’t do anything about it.
We couldn’t hurt Ben. She wouldn’t do it.
And neither would I. This subject is perhaps best left here.
I worry about what might happen next if either of us really tries to open up this discussion.
I’m not flattering myself that she likes me.
Not at all. But it won’t do me any good to hear that she doesn’t.
‘I should go,’ I say gently.
‘Already?’ she asks. ‘Stay a bit longer. It’s been so long and you’ve only just got here. Mum will be back soon and you can give her the flowers.’
‘You give them to her for me. I’ll give Liv a ring. It’s overdue. I’ll ask her about meeting up. See how she feels about Ben. Are you really ready to see Ben again?’
‘I’m not sure now,’ Aury confesses and then, as I rise to go, she says, ‘It’ll be so weird. I didn’t mean to stay away for so long, you know.’
‘I know.’ Although I don’t know anything much about her now. I feel so disconnected from her these days. Big moments in our lives pass without the other knowing. How did that happen to all of us?
‘Those first two years were the best two years of my life,’ she says and I wonder if she’s reading my mind.
‘Mine too,’ I tell her honestly.
‘Funny how things work out, isn’t it?’ she goes on as we walk towards the lift. ‘I’d never have thought the boy who almost knocked me down the stairs on day one would become one of my best friends.’
‘That day I was so tongue-tied I could barely speak.’ I still am.
‘Were you?’ she asks, her expression showing genuine surprise as she leans past me and taps the button to call the lift for me.
‘Yeah, you were … it was all – you know – so new.’
‘Oh, I see. Yeah. Same.’
‘I’ll give you a buzz about the four of us meeting up?’
‘Reuniting,’ she says with an expression of mock-horror.
‘Yeah,’ I say, my face doing the same as hers, which makes us both laugh.
The lift arrives and I get inside, turn, raise my hand to her and Aury says goodbye.
I want to tell her. I want to tell her she was so overwhelming when we first met, and I was so useless that I did everything wrong.
I wish I’d talked to her more, or at all.
I wish I’d been the one who’d gone to the bar with her on freshers’ night.
I wish I’d not accidentally got paired off with Liv.
Why? Why did I do that? I was flattered because Liv was pretty.
Is pretty. And nice. And kind. So why did my relationship with Liv never feel right?
And why did being just good friends with Aury feel wrong? Although obviously not to her.
I’ve played it out a hundred times, maybe more. It was always going to be Ben and Aury. Luck and timing; and being smooth. That’s not who I am. I met Aury first and I nearly killed her on the stairs. And in came Ben.
As if I stood a chance.
The lift doors close. I like to pretend I’ll tell her, but the reality of it is that I never will.