Chapter 14 #2
He twisted the dial and pressed it in. The lighter clicked a few times before the gas caught and the fire whooshed into action.
‘Legend, thanks for that. No match for a wood burner, mind.’
I’d never mentioned my kind-of-illegal woodburning stove to Josh – he’d probably come round to forcibly remove it given how much they contributed to air pollution.
Tom re-joined me on the sofa. Perhaps I was imagining it but he appeared to be a few centimetres closer. Keep reeling him in, girl! Oh God, I was so drunk. I packed my metaphorical fishing rod and inexplicable internal American accent away.
‘Tell me about it,’ Tom said. ‘Just got one installed at my place. It’s perfect for cold weekends.’
‘Nice, whereabouts is your place? Near your mum’s?’
‘Not far – I’ve got this converted barn out in Langwood.’
‘Ooh, fancy!’
It really was. It was the kind of area where the houses had names rather than numbers.
‘Ha ha, yeah, it’s pretty nice. I was lucky to buy it when I did – prices have gone nuts in the last few years.’
‘Tell me about it – the London housing market is wild.’
‘Do you rent?’
‘No, I was also lucky to buy just as the property market crashed, so we lived there together.’
‘Ah, so you were with someone back then?’
‘Huh? Oh, no. Elle was my lodger up until she got engaged. After we graduated, we moved to London and rented a place for a while. But then my grampy died and left me some money, which gave me the chance to buy at the right time.’
I took a long gulp of water and made a start on the Nutrigrain bar. Hang on a second. A Nutrigrain bar? I definitely didn’t have anything in the house that involved ‘nutrients’ – genuine or otherwise – the last time I checked.
‘Where the hell is this bar from, by the way?’
‘Don’t laugh but I always keep a stash of them in my boot. For emergencies.’
‘What kind of emergencies?’
‘Let me see: broken-down car in a blizzard, zombie apocalypse warrants swift getaway, pissed intriguing woman from my past in need of efficient sustenance to absorb alcohol…’
‘Intriguing? That’s not an adjective I’d associate with myself.’
‘Really? Which adjectives should I use, then?’
‘Ooh, “unremarkable”, “awkward” and “organised” feel about right. Or if you fancy a few more syllables, why not go with “conscientious”?’
‘You’re pretty hard on yourself, aren’t you?’
‘Oi! I’m very proud of my conscientiousness, thank you very much.’
‘Conscientiousness is underrated, it’s true. I admire it. I wish I’d had more of it myself when I was at school.’
‘I think you probably had enough going on.’
‘Yeah, I know. But I do wonder how things could’ve worked out differently for me if I’d been able to see out my A levels. I mean, I’ve done well enough for myself here—’
‘You really have, Tom – CEO? I’m impressed.’
There was no denying it now, he was definitely blushing. ‘Ah, who told you? My mum?’
‘Nope. I may have briefly glanced at your online credentials.’ I attempted to cover my face with my hands again but he grabbed them before they reached their destination.
‘Ha! Sneaky. Especially when Google drew a blank when I tried to do the same in return.’
He’d googled me! And… he was still holding my hands. I withdrew them, slowly, increasingly conscious of their stickiness.
‘But yeah, I often wonder what else I might have achieved if things had been different for me,’ he said. ‘Like, if my dad hadn’t left when he did or I hadn’t got married so young.’
‘Do you miss your ex?’ Jesus, I felt like Lauren Laverne on Desert Island Discs with all this probing. Hopefully I wouldn’t make him cry.
‘I miss the companionship, sure – like I said, I’m not great at living alone. But we just met each other at the wrong time. I kind of wish I’d met her now, you know? But she’s having a baby next year. So good for her, I guess.’
I was trying to look sympathetic but I was mainly trying to muffle an intense set of hiccups that had just started.
‘Here, try having some more water.’
I took another sip, but as I swallowed the latest hiccup morphed into an enormous belch.
Worse still, my diaphragm was insisting on pushing something up to the surface.
Oh God, I was going to be… scratch that, I was actually being…
sick, though thankfully my reflexes had been quick enough to make it to the wastepaper bin next to the sofa.
‘Oh, God, Mally… umm, here let me—’
His sentence was interrupted by the sound of another violent heave.
‘Oh… my God. I’m so… so sorry.’ I repeated the word ‘sorry’ in between spluttering into the bin. After each spit I felt progressively less drunk, and progressively more mortified. ‘This is so embarrassing.’
‘Uh, don’t worry, don’t worry. Are you okay? Let me grab you a… tea towel or something.’
‘Yeah, I think I just need to…’
I stood up but lost my balance. Tom caught me.
‘Umm, I think you should probably just lie down and sleep this off. Shall I help you upstairs?’
I nodded as I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, gagging once more as the rancid smell from my mouth reached my nostrils.
I knew two things for sure as I ascended the stairs with Tom’s help: this element of my trip was definitely not going into my article. And this was the single most embarrassing moment of my life – about a million times more so than when I’d been presented with my PE effort award.
At least this time I wouldn’t have to give a speech.