25
On Sunday, I agree to meet with Lydia and Catherine at Lydia’s. I remember that Lydia had some previous plans, but when I ask her about them on WhatsApp, she becomes evasive. I guess everyone has the right to have some secrets.
Lydia’s flat is only a five-minute walk from the town centre, so I decide to park in the multistorey car park just off the high street and head to hers, my bag loaded with chocolate Viennese biscuits and bacon rasher crisps.
I arrive before Catherine, and the first thing Lydia does when she opens the door is deliver on her promise of squeezing me alive. I grip her back with so much force my arms go numb after a while, but I’m not ready to let go.
When we separate, I’m crying. Again.
‘Hols,’ she says softly, her sharp eyebrows knitting in the middle.
I wave my hand in dismissal. ‘Don’t mind the waterworks. I can’t seem to turn it off now I’ve started. My tear ducts are faulty. I want a refund.’
‘You’re allowed to have a bit of a cryfest after all the shit you’ve been through.’ She pulls me into her uber-modern and minimalistic flat. Everywhere I look, there’s slate-grey furniture, geometrical tiles and marble. It’s like Lydia herself, sharp and edgy.
She makes me a cup of coffee, and sitting down on her Chesterfield-styled grey leather sofa, I pull the biscuits out of the bag.
‘I strongly approve,’ Lydia mumbles, stuffing her face with a Viennese finger dipped in milk chocolate.
A moment later, Catherine arrives, wavy hair pulled back with a red clip. She looks rested and has even put on some make-up. ‘I’m sorry I’m late. The traffic was awful. Gabby is with Richard, but I promised to be on the phone if anything happened. He spent the last two days with Gabby to give me some me time,’ she says mildly, but I can see the love hearts popping in her eyes; Richard is a good one. She drops her multiple bags by the coffee table. Immediately, she plants herself on the sofa next to me and smothers me in a hug. This hug is soft and fluffy. I bury my face into her teddy bear fleece, trying not to spill any tears on it.
When we’re done, she swiftly unpacks her bags that contain various snacky bits. Prawn cocktail crisps, sesame bread sticks, lemon-stuffed olives and extra-large marshmallows. Basically, all my favourite foods. Then she takes off her fleece with the words, ‘I’m ready.’
I look from Lydia’s chic red jersey to Catherine’s navy-dotted blouse. Then my gaze drops to my stained black leggings and an old sweatshirt with a hole in one of the sleeves. I’m not impressed with myself. ‘I don’t think I got the memo about the dress code,’ I complain, wiping my nose on the sleeve to add insult to the injury that is my sweatshirt.
‘ Uff . The owl must have gone to the neighbours’ again,’ Lydia laments dramatically which makes me cackle.
I pat the sofa next to me and she installs herself on my left side, putting her feet up on the glass coffee table now offering various spreads. Catherine flops to my right, and it would be almost perfect if I weren’t this miserable.
‘If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine.’ Catherine threads her arm through mine.
‘We could watch a movie instead,’ Lydia offers and turns the sixty-five-inch TV on.
I called them yesterday from my parents’ house, so they’re kept abreast on the developments with my dad, but I didn’t mention Alex once. They both know something happened on Friday, so I love them even more for not prying and giving me time to sort my thoughts.
We eat unhealthy food and watch daytime TV for the whole morning. After a lunch of pizza and marshmallows, we end up watching Bridget Jones . I get a bit teary and bury my face in the sweatshirt, but I must not hide it well because Lydia squeezes my arm resting on her lap, and Catherine snuggles closer.
When Mark Darcy finally says to Bridget he likes her just the way she is, I start full-on sobbing.
‘I think I’m turning unhealthily egocentric. This movie feels like the story of my life.’ I laugh through my tears.
Lydia turns the volume down and sits up, pushing her legs underneath her. ‘Let’s see. A cheating boyfriend, a cold-on-the-outside but enigmatic sexy love interest. A ridiculous-yet-loving mother. I would sue Helen Fielding if I were you.’
‘She didn’t get you right though. You’re nothing like Bridget.’ Catherine crunches a bacon rasher crisp, contemplating.
‘I don’t know. Holly’s fairly accident-prone, and bad luck seems to stick to her like glue,’ Lydia interjects.
‘Which friend would I be?’ Catherine plucks another crisp from the bowl in front of her.
‘I’m totally Shazzer,’ Lydia announces proudly.
‘Totally,’ both Catherine and I say at the same time. I quickly say, ‘Jinx,’ before she has a chance to say it first. Catherine frowns because she’s a sore loser. We’ve reverted to teenagers.
‘You’d be Jude,’ Lydia ponders out loud, and Catherine throws the nearest cushion at Lydia’s head. Lydia snorts.
‘Except Mark Darcy turns out to be the right guy in the end.’ I sour the mood.
Lydia picks up the cushion and hugs it to herself. It feels like someone has pressed pause in the room.
I inhale and tell them everything that happened. After an embarrassed pause, I also tell them how Alex froze when things got heated. I finish with Vicky calling and Alex getting cold feet.
Lydia is frowning while Catherine is outright confused.
I shake it off. ‘I’m OK. I’m done with him. For real this time. He enjoys keeping me hanging, and I’m done being his entertainment, his backup plan or whatever I’ve been to him. No more Alex and Holly. Holly and Alex.’
Catherine looks at me like I’m a simpleton.
‘Don’t give me that look,’ I warn her and grab a cushion of my own for emotional support. My fingers frantically start plucking at the silk tassels sewn to the corners like I’m a harpist performing at a speed metal concert.
‘It just doesn’t add up,’ Catherine mumbles.
‘I agree for once.’ Lydia pushes off the sofa and brings the last bag of crisps from the counter to the table. When she sits, she frowns. ‘I definitely don’t think he’s not not interested in you if you know what I mean. A person who’s gotten over you doesn’t look at you the way he did at the Thai restaurant. That boy was trying to pretend to keep it cool while he had the hots for you.’
I’m waiting for Catherine to argue and talk about dignity and breaking one’s trust, but instead, she shrugs. ‘I don’t think that everything is as black and white as we think.’ Her tone is almost apologetic. Her eyes flash towards Lydia, and then she starts biting her nails. What’s going on here?
‘What are you trying to say? That Vicky lied? Or that nothing happened, and I just misunderstood?’ My voice rises, and I have to temper it to keep it from rising again. When loose threads start to come out of the tassel between my fingers, I still them. ‘I found her on top of him. He didn’t look like he minded it.’
‘And the first person he calls after his supposed tryst is you. That’s weird.’ Lydia tries to apply logic to something that doesn’t have any. ‘Do people still use the word tryst ?’ She ponders out loud.
‘Guilty conscience? Or it gives him a kick to play around with people’s feelings, making me sound like the villain here,’ I offer and start systematically taking apart another tassel. I will have to buy Lydia a new cushion after this conversation is done if we carry on in the same vein.
‘You already split up with him. There was no need for a guilty conscience, and I don’t agree he was a player. There’s no evidence apart from what Vicky is saying,’ Catherine reminds me gently. ‘Also…’ She averts her eyes like she wants to avoid eye contact. ‘He sounded sort of hurt when he hurled all those accusations your way. Take it from his perspective, he’s been labouring under the delusion that you broke up with him ten years ago because you got bored, and then you made up with someone less than twenty-four hours after.’ Her face is flushed, and she’s still refusing to look at me.
‘I don’t know why he did what he did, and it doesn’t matter because it was ten years ago. Ever since he showed up back in my life, he’s made things nothing but complicated. He’s been kind and understanding, and yes, even friendly at times, but that doesn’t even out the times he’s been outright hostile, scornful, unfair and hurtful. I can’t keep up with his hot and cold ways. It hurts too much,’ I growl desperately. ‘Why are you both standing up for him?’ I’m not angry, I just feel defeated. They look at each other with a strange expression.
‘What’s going on?’ Standing up, I leave the almost tassel-less cushion on the sofa.
‘You know I love you, and I would never hurt you,’ Lydia starts carefully. Whatever this is, it’s nothing good.
The lounge is so tense I could cut the air with a knife. I jerk when Catherine’s phone starts buzzing. She plucks it from among the cushions and apologetically mumbles, ‘It’s Richard,’ before she picks up and walks in the direction of Lydia’s bedroom.
The lounge is silent.
‘There’s something I need to speak to you about. I’ve wanted to bring it up before, but I’ve never found the right time.’ Lydia rubs her hands together, and her face turns pink. She’s obviously distressed over something to do with me.
‘You can tell me anything.’ I try to sound reassuring, but uncertainty creeps into my voice, nevertheless.
The doorbell buzzes and cleaves the tense atmosphere.
‘Have we ordered any more pizza?’ Lydia wonders out loud but strides towards the door. She sounds almost relieved to abandon our unfinished conversation.
When she opens the front door, she sounds surprised and apologetic. I conclude she knows whoever is on the other side of the door. It doesn’t take me long to recognise the other person. I march stiffly to the door, thinking this day cannot get any more confusing.
‘I’m sorry I haven’t checked my messages. Is now not a good time? Should I leave?’ Jane is looking genuinely perplexed. Her hair gleams under the artificial light of the hallway, a few purplish strands I’ve never noticed standing out in her otherwise dark hair. She is as smart as ever despite wearing a pair of black jeans and a burgundy pullover. When she spots me over Lydia’s shoulder, she flinches imperceptibly. It takes her only a second to assess my outfit and messy hair to read the situation.
I connect the dots surprisingly quickly too. Now it makes perfect sense why Lydia was so nervous; she was worried about my reaction. Guilt squeezes my chest, and for a moment, I struggle to breathe.
‘Do you want to come in?’ Lydia invites Jane in.
Silent communication passes between them, but I avert my eyes before I can decipher it, feeling embarrassed. When I look back, Jane is still hesitant, which is unusual for her. With the same level of certainty that I know Taylor Swift is the best country and folk singer of this century, I know that Alex has spoken to her.
‘Please.’ Lydia’s voice comes out sort of desperate. My eyes flash to her in surprise. Probably as shocked as me, Jane nods and comes in. She places her shoes in the cleverly hidden shoe cupboard which straight away confirms she’s been here before.
Catherine walks out of Lydia’s bedroom with the phone in her hand. She blinks a few times at the sight of Jane. ‘Hi,’ she says slowly, unsure of the atmosphere. She turns to me. ‘Holly, I’m sorry. I’ll have to shoot off. Gabby fell and scratched her knee. She’s inconsolable.’
‘That’s alright,’ I say numbly. I think I’m shell-shocked.
Catherine quickly hugs me and Lydia, eyeing Jane as she goes. Then the three of us are alone.
Lydia excuses herself to make us fresh coffee, so I end up sitting with Jane on the sofa.
‘How’s your dad?’ Jane starts, offering an olive branch of sorts even though she’s not the one who’s at odds with me. If this didn’t confirm that Jane was a decent person, her deciding to date Lydia would.
‘He’s going to be fine. He’s back home.’ I bet she knows this already.
‘I’m glad to hear that.’ She sounds genuine despite the stilted air between us.
‘So how long have you been seeing each other?’ I ask carefully. Even though she’s not my boss right now, she’s a woman my best friend has been dating. I feel awful about how consumed I’ve been with my problems to not know this fact.
‘Since we met at the restaurant. After you left, we got talking,’ Jane offers, and a sweet smile pulls on her lips.
‘I’m glad she’s seeing somebody nice for once,’ I admit, because no matter how I feel about Alex, Jane is great.
‘Holly.’ She opens her mouth and then snaps it shut like something is preventing her from speaking freely.
Lydia plonks three cups of coffee on the glass surface. ‘So, have you told her?’ she asks without preamble.
‘Lydia,’ Jane interjects.
I’m an elastic band stretched so far, I’m about to snap. My gaze keeps switching between her and Jane, waiting to see who’s going to tell me what’s going on here.
‘It’s not my place,’ Jane protests and pretends to sip her coffee, even though I know for a fact it’s scalding hot because I’ve just burnt my tongue on it.
‘Not getting involved at this point is not helping. You told me yesterday on the phone that Alex is a mess.’ At the mention of Alex, I blink.
‘If you don’t say anything, I will,’ Lydia threatens and Jane exhales.
She abandons her coffee and faces me fully. ‘I have a hunch you’re a nice person, Holly.’
‘Of course she is.’ Lydia jumps in, and Jane shushes her. ‘I’m usually right about these things. It’s not my business to butt into what happened, or what you think happened, between you two ten years ago. Just know that Alex is a good guy. One of the best, and if I was interested in men, which I’m not’ – at this point she flashes an enamoured gaze towards Lydia – ‘I’d be all over him. He’s just not the best at communicating his intentions, but his actions speak for themselves.’
‘What did you mean by what I think happened ten years ago? What has that got to do with this? He made it clear that he didn’t want me, and that we were a mistake.’ If I wasn’t so bewildered, I’d be mortified right now at spilling the most embarrassing parts of my private life to my boss.
‘Is that what he said?’ Jane scoffs. ‘That’s just typical Alex. He always runs away from his feelings. He’s besotted with you.’ She mutters, he’s going to kill me for this later .
‘What happened ten years ago, Jane?’ I insist. A strange feeling starts bubbling in my chest.
‘He wasn’t a willing participant.’ Jane’s tone is regretful.
‘What?’ My breath hitches.
‘That friend of yours, Vicky, she chased him, messaged him and called him. She wouldn’t stop. I understand that on that night she threw herself at him and didn’t care much about Alex saying no,’ Jane explains, and Lydia makes a disgruntled sound.
It feels like someone has thrust my head in a beam clamp and is slowly tightening the screw. ‘What?’ I repeat, my voice a faint echo.
‘I’ve already said too much. I should go, but you should speak to Alex.’ She looks apologetically at the stupefied Lydia. Judging by my best friend’s expression, she didn’t know the full extent of things.
They both head to the door, leaving me to my rampaging thoughts. Alex did nothing wrong. At the idea of Vicky launching herself at him, I feel queasy. He wanted to tell me, and I let him down. He called me straight after, and the first thing I did was kiss some guy to make him jealous. I’ve never deserved Alex.
‘Fuck. I’ll fucking punch that sleaze in the windpipe if I ever see her again,’ Lydia shouts when she comes back and sits heavily next to me on the sofa.
I’m unable to stay sitting so I stand up and start pacing. Long moments pass, but my head is no clearer.
‘You’re worrying me. Say something,’ Lydia urges from behind me.
I stop pacing, desperation making my words uneven. ‘What do I do now? I’ve screwed up everything. I’ve hurt him. I haven’t trusted him when he needed me to. When he wanted to tell me and called me, I kissed some random guy. No surprise he feels now like he can’t trust me. I’m not a very trustworthy person in his eyes. I’m such an awful person.’
‘Hey.’ Lydia grips my shoulders, and the gesture grounds me. ‘Stop there. You’ve made some bad decisions based on misinformation. You’re not a bad person and you deserve to be happy. Fuck me, this is your epic love.’
I start crying. ‘I said some horrible things to him on Friday.’
‘Yes, you did, but so did he. I bet he’s feeling terrible. You’re like some cheesy, star-crossed lovers, kept apart by misunderstanding and poor communication. I can justify the bad communication ten years ago when you were teenagers, but now you have no excuse. Go and talk to him. Spell it out to him how you feel because he obviously needs it. Men always do.’
‘Can you get me Alex’s address?’ I only hesitate for a moment, hands shaking with adrenalin.
‘Already on it.’ Lydia scrolls down her phone.
I inspect my outfit with disgust. ‘I look like a slob. I can’t wear this.’
‘Is this the moment in the movie when the best friend does a total makeover of the main character? Should I put the Pretty Woman soundtrack on?’ She winks at me. I don’t understand how she can find any humour in this situation, but her answer makes me feel a little lighter.
‘No, I’d just like to borrow something that doesn’t have yogurt or pizza topping on it,’ I respond sardonically.
‘On it.’ Lydia heads towards the bedroom and comes back with a maroon dress, too slinky and totally not me.
‘Lydia,’ I warn her.
She guffaws. ‘Sorry, that was a joke. It’s like She’s All That all over again. I’ve got some jeans and a jumper in the cupboard.’ She heads back to the bedroom.
‘I’m glad my life is a source of amusement to you,’ I shout after her.
After I get changed into a pair of blue jeans and a navy jumper that is way too posh for me, I’m ready to go. Or at least as ready as I’ll ever be.
‘So, you and Jane?’ I start with caution, standing awkwardly by the door. I’m a terrible friend.
Lydia’s cheeks flush, which is very unusual. ‘I really like her.’
I give her a bone-crushing hug. ‘I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t tell me.’
‘You didn’t. I wasn’t ready to admit it to myself that I liked her. It’s got nothing to do with you.’ When she sees my worried expression, she adds, ‘I promise. Now, go and get Alex.’
I kiss Lydia goodbye.
The traffic to Alex’s is bad. I get stuck for fifteen minutes solid, my fingers tapping the wheel impatiently.
My phone starts buzzing, and because it’s in the holder right in front of me, Vicky’s name jumps at me, and I almost swerve. I pull in as soon as I get a chance. She messages, Please meet me in St Paul’s Park. It’s urgent.
Everything inside me tenses as I do a U-turn and head towards a place that holds so many teenage memories.