Chapter Nine
Rosie, Ben and Jason got on surprisingly well. OK, maybe not so surprising, when you’re five bottles and a Mexican Chilli special in, almost anyone you can focus on begins to look like a friend. But it helped that Jason, like me, hadn’t the faintest idea who Willow Down had been. Ben finally relaxed and only occasionally betrayed how he was feeling by twisting at the cuffs of his shirt.
‘So, you coming to Saskia’s grand opening?’ Rosie shoved another portion of chilli onto Ben’s plate. The bloke looked as if he only weighed about eight stone but he could eat like a man who’s been in training. Jason poured Ben another glass of wine and furtively drank the dregs of the bottle.
‘Who’s Saskia?’
‘Well,’ I brandished my knife. In my defence I was also more than a little bit pissed. ‘You see this pointy thing? Imagine this, in the mouth of a Rottweiler that’s covered in pins.’
‘With a bellyful of wasps,’ added Rosie helpfully.
‘That’s Saskia. And she’s opening her shop — well, re-opening it. Jason’s doing it, aren’t you?’
Jason jumped guiltily. ‘What? What’m I doin’ now? Come on, Jem, y’ can see both me hands!’
‘He’s her sleb.’ Then I went a bit quiet because we were all painfully aware that Ben’s celebrity status could have knocked Jase’s into a pond. ‘Anyway. It’s next week. We’re all going.’
‘Things like that aren’t really my — well, thing,’ Ben said. ignoring Jason. ‘I’m not much one for crowds. And I don’t know her.’
‘That’s all right, we all wish we didn’t know her and we’re still going!’
Ben gave us all an old-fashioned look, which I think was meant to be disapproving but his head was wobbling so it gave him more of an air of a slightly pissed off glove-puppet. ‘You three are horrible, aren’t you?’
‘And proud of it.’ I held out my glass for Jason who’d popped the cork on the last bottle, the one Ben had brought.
There was a flare of lights as a car turned into the driveway and stopped, followed by a momentary blaring of a horn. Ben covered his glass with his hand. ‘That’ll be my taxi,’ he said. ‘Need to get up early. Got another appointment tomorrow at eleven. Don’t want to be hungover for it. Will you be all right to come over and mind the shop for me, Jemima?’
I nodded. Ben got up and I was suddenly overwhelmed with an urge to grab his arm and ask him not to go. To stay here, shooting the breeze into the small hours and getting giggly over Jason’s ridiculous world view, as we had been doing. It was as though we’d been in a bubble for the last few hours, one in which I didn’t have to think about anything other than this life I’d made for myself. Me. Here and now. With Rosie and Jason playing host and hostess and this skinny rock-guy with the big secrets.
‘Jem?’ Ben laid a hand on my shoulder. ‘You all right? You looked like you were on another planet there for a minute.’
Some of the stress was gone from his face. I felt a tiny flutter inside me, somewhere round my heart. Yes, Ben was a good-looking guy. I could see it but I daren’t acknowledge it. Even the knowing caused a little acid burn at the base of my stomach.
‘Nah, I’m fine. Just tired. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
To my surprise he moved a tendril of hair away from my face. ‘Yes. Another day of insults and misunderstandings.’
‘I’ll look forward to it.’
When Ben had left, Jason collapsed onto the sofa and farted hugely. ‘It’s those frigging beans, Jem,’ he said not apologetically. ‘An’ I reckon you and our Mr Davies could get a very nice thing going, if you know what I mean.’
‘Don’t be silly.’ I helped Rosie clear the table.
‘Honest. I saw you and him giving each other the old googie-eye treatment. He’s gotcha goin’, admit it.’
‘He’s screwed up.’
‘Yeah! Gorgeous an’ screwed up. Thass what you girls all love, isn’t it? Bit of the old tormented genius thing. All the secrets, all the mystery. Hey, you could get it out of him, why he quit that band, sell your story to the rock papers! You’d make a mint!’
‘Immoral, even for you. Besides, old news. No-one’s going to pay a fortune for that.’ Yawning enormously I scraped the last of the food into a freezer container. ‘Are we washing up tonight, Rosie?’
‘Nope. I’m off to bed before Harry wakes up. Night, Jase.’
Jason looked a little bit deflated. ‘What, not even a snog?’
‘Sorry.’
‘An’ I put me suit on an’ everything! I dunno, what’s it take to get a shag round here?’ But he grinned to show he was joking, or if not, at least not annoyed to be cast out into the cool night, still carrying the bottle.
Rosie looked at me. ‘What is it with you and Baz — sorry, Ben? I’ve never seen you so — I dunno what it is. It’s like you’re both scared of each other somehow.’
‘He’s way too sharp. Talk to him for long enough and you’ll feel like you’ve been juggling razor blades.’
‘Yeah, well. He’s bound to be a bit spiky, look at what he’s been through. And now he’s running a poky little shop in the back end of York with no customers and, by the look of it, no friends. I think he needs you, Jem.’
‘Oh, rubbish! He’s fine. I think he likes his life the way it is now.’
Rosie gave me a very hard look. ‘But what about you? I was watching you two all through the meal, tiptoeing around each other, never asking the right questions. Him I understand. But you? Why are you so scared to get involved, Jemima? You say talking to him is like juggling razor blades, well sometimes talking to you is like juggling soap bubbles. What exactly is your problem?’
My mouth opened and then closed again. I literally could not think of anything to say. I’d never been so glad to hear Harry begin one of his chugging cries upstairs in his cot. ‘Harry’s awake,’ I said unnecessarily.
Rosie cast her eyes wearily at the ceiling. ‘And so another day dawns,’ she said. ‘Goodnight.’
I watched her head up the stairs. She’d been on top form all evening, sparky and witty and much more like the Rosie she’d been before giving birth. I hoped she’d turned a corner. She clearly adored Harry but it was as if she’d never been prepared for the fundamental life change that having a baby would bring and now she was fighting it. A kind of tussle between her love for her child and the restrictions that he placed on her life.
I sighed and stared at the wall, much as Ben had done earlier. Ben. With his guilt and his fear and his awful confusion, all because he’d walked away from his life. And I knew deep in my heart that I could help him to feel better. All I had to do was talk to him. Tell him. Say those words that I found it impossible even to think, I know how it feels, because I did it, too.
Don’t think about it. Don’t think about his expression — that helpless turmoil in the face of discovery. Don’t think about the occasional bone-cold touch of his fingers, his huge eyes so full of disaster . . .
In fact, go to bed.
* * *
30th April
Weather. I’m sure there was some. Didn’t notice.
I went to dinner with her. Surprised? Yeah, not as much as I was. Last week I was ready to jack it all in, go move to Greenland, somewhere, anywhere no-one would know me. Where nobody would be looking at me, saying ‘didn’t you used to be in that band? Didn’t you used to be somebody?’ But really, what did I think? That none of the guys would ever play again, just because I shat on them from a height?
You know something? That’s exactly what I thought. Willow Down was my band. Okay, mine and Zafe’s. And now Zafe is out there again, taking over, doing what he thinks is right, but . . . what about me, doc? What does that leave me with?
And then. At first I thought she was coming on to me. She’s the first person to touch me . . . hey, get your mind out of the gutter, man, she’s the first person to get inside my head. To look as if she even wants to try to understand what’s happening to me. I guess what I mean is, she’s the first person to see me. Not Baz, not the guy with the lead guitar, but me. Ben.
Thought about standing her up. But, in the end, I couldn’t do it. She’s got this wounded kind of expression, like she’s been kicked in the face and is trying not to show it, the thought of making that expression worse . . . nah. Not me. Not cruel. Stupid, yeah, hold my hands up to that one, even a little crazy maybe sometimes. Well, you of all people know what it was like before. And now, shit, I can’t find the words to say it . . . it’s like this is the ‘before’. Like something really big is waiting to happen, muscles tense, mind all silver-wire; almost like the coke cutting in, taking it all up to some new level.
No. Before you get that look, reading these words and kinda looking at me over the top of this notebook with that caved-in face like I’ve disappointed you in some fundamental way. No. Let me say it this once. I DID NOT USE. I am not using. Told you, never again.
I’m tempted though. When she . . . when Jemima found out who I was, I thought it was over.
What, though? What could be over? There’s nothing to finish. She’s a friend and I don’t think she’d break over this. But she’s getting into me, one tiny little slice at a time. Like a diamond punch.