Chapter 12 #2
But Rory didn’t leave it there. ‘That’s mad!’ he said. ‘Why not?’
‘We won’t be here that much longer, and Maria can cope with the cooking for the last few weeks.’
‘I’m not talking about the fucking food, and you know it.’
‘Really? What are you talking about then?’
‘I’m talking about you and Kate.’ Rory gave him a long, hard look. ‘You’ve got to go for it, man. Life’s too fucking short. Your old man dying should tell you that.’
‘It’s not that simple,’ Will said irritably.
‘Why not?’
Will sighed. ‘Because it’s Kate,’ he said wretchedly. ‘Her family’s practically my family.’
‘Well, happy days!’ Rory said.
‘But what if it didn’t work out? What if it ended badly?’
‘You can’t live your life by what-ifs. Have some balls!’
‘Look who’s talking!’ Will scoffed.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘It means you’re in no position to preach to me. How long have you been in love with Louise and done nothing about it?’
Rory looked cornered, and Will instantly regretted having said anything.
‘Sorry.’ He felt like a shit.
‘Different situation,’ Rory said finally. ‘It’s not mutual.’
Will thought otherwise, and it was on the tip of his tongue to say so, but Rory was obviously so uncomfortable talking about it that he didn’t have the heart to push it.
‘Kate feels the same about you,’ Rory said. ‘I know she does. You’ve got to go for it. What have you got to lose?’
Everything, Will thought. ‘If it didn’t work out, if it did end badly,’ he said hesitantly, ‘I wouldn’t just lose Kate. I’d lose everyone.’
‘You’d still have us.’ Rory grinned appealingly.
Will smiled at him. ‘Don’t think I don’t appreciate it. But what would I— I mean, where would I—’ He spluttered. ‘Where would…’ He didn’t know how to say what he meant without sounding childish and idiotic.
‘Where would you spend Christmas?’ Rory finished Will’s sentence for him.
‘Well… yes,’ Will admitted. ‘Metaphorically speaking.’
‘Have you thought about where you’ll spend Christmas if you don’t go for it?’ Rory fingered his beer bottle thoughtfully, scooping up drips of condensation.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’d be with Kate and her family, right?’
‘I suppose so.’ Will shrugged. ‘Same as usual.’
‘Do you really think you could hack that, year after year?’
‘Why not?’ Will said, puzzled.
‘Spending Christmas with Kate and her family – and whatever tosser she ends up marrying? And her children who aren’t your children?’
Will gulped. He hadn’t thought about it like that. He was thinking about it as if they were all going to stand still in time. But of course Kate would end up marrying someone else, having children with him. He found the thought horrifying.
‘Maybe she’ll marry that boyfriend of hers,’ Rory mused, twisting the knife. ‘What’s his name again?’
‘Brian,’ Will muttered, through clenched teeth. God, maybe she would marry him – she was still engaged to him, after all. But even if it wasn’t him it would be someone else.
Rory smiled sympathetically at the horror spreading across Will’s face.
Obviously the picture he had painted had had the desired effect.
Pulling a scrap of paper from the pocket of his jeans, he grabbed a pen from the table and scribbled something on it.
‘Look, go for it with Kate, and if it doesn’t work out, I’ll make good on that,’ he said, handing the paper to Will.
Will looked at it. In Rory’s crabbed, spidery scrawl it read:
IOU a family Christmas.
‘If that’s not an incentive to go for it, I don’t know what is,’ Rory added gruffly.
‘I could do a lot worse,’ Will said, touched.
‘You haven’t seen Owen stuff the turkey.’ Rory got up and picked up his bottle.
‘Seriously – thanks.’ Will smiled at him.
‘Don’t worry, it’ll work out. You’re one of the good guys, Will.’ He raised his bottle in salute.
Outside the door, Rory bumped into Louise. His heart lurched as he wondered how long she had been standing there. She couldn’t have heard, could she? She was looking at him questioningly, but he avoided her eyes and, with a casual ‘Hi, Louise’, brushed past her and went out onto the terrace.
Sitting on a low bench by the wall, he lit a cigarette, his movements slow and deliberate, but his fingers were shaking.
‘Rory?’ Louise had followed him. She walked slowly across the terrace and came to sit beside him on the bench. He looked straight ahead, not meeting her eyes.
‘Rory,’ she began hesitantly, ‘I heard what Will said.’
Fuck! Here it comes – the big blow-off! ‘Yeah?’ He half turned to her as he took a long drag on his cigarette.
Christ, she wasn’t going to make this easy. ‘He said – he said you were in love with me,’ she said bluntly.
‘Oh, that.’ He looked at her cagily, his shoulders hunched defensively, like a child caught out in a lie – or a terrible guilty truth. Looking away, he exhaled on a long, deep sigh.
‘Is it true?’
‘Yeah, it’s true,’ he said quietly, meeting her eyes now, almost defiantly.
He looked down, flicking an imaginary speck of ash off his jeans.
‘I love you,’ he said, his gaze direct and unflinching again.
‘I’m in love with you – have been for ages,’ he said, with a crooked smile, as though he was telling her something funny.
‘Since when?’ Louise asked.
‘D’you remember that day coming up to Christmas when we all met at Will’s house?
It was bucketing down outside. You had this red bandana-type thing over your hair and you were wearing those red suede boots.
’ He remembered how dazzled he had been by the gorgeous sparkly eyed, long-limbed girl, and how many light years out of his reach she had seemed.
‘You bought me some cigarettes,’ he said softly, smiling at her. ‘Remember that?’
She was surprised Rory remembered the cigarettes.
While they had been talking she had noticed him reach into his pocket for a cigarette only to find the packet empty.
When she had told him there was a shop on the corner if he wanted to get more, he had said it was too wet out and he wouldn’t bother; but Louise had seen the resignation in his eyes and had guessed that he didn’t have any money and was too proud to say so.
Pretending she used to smoke the same brand and might have some left, she had gone out on the pretext of looking for them in her car, and had then snuck to the shops and bought some, removing the cellophane and even taking out a couple for extra authenticity.
‘You knew?’ she said softly. ‘You knew I bought them?’
Rory smiled affectionately at her, the lines around his eyes crinkling. ‘Yeah, I knew. I think that was what did it for me.’ He took a last drag on his cigarette, tilting his head to blow the smoke skywards, then stubbed it out on the edge of the bench, taking his time, his movements careful.
‘But that was…’ Louise faltered. ‘…that was the first day I met you.’
It was the first day she had met all of the band.
Still in the process of trying to lure her away from a well-paid job in marketing to go and work for him, Will had taken her to see them play a small gig the night before in an attempt at convincing her.
And she had been convinced. The gig wasn’t well attended, and the band were unpolished, raw and awkward, with more passion than accomplishment.
But they had an energy and charisma that was breathtaking, and from that night on, she understood Will’s enthusiasm for his pet project and knew she wanted to be a part of it.
She hadn’t hung around after the gig because she’d had a date – funny, she thought, she couldn’t remember now who with.
The next day she had met the band at Will’s house and they had embarked on the great adventure that was Walking Wounded.
It had been the day that her life, as she now knew it, had begun.
She remembered Rory that first day, and how moved she had been by him.
She was instantly drawn to his air of quiet authority, his stoicism and dependability.
He had been so calm and still, in contrast to Phoenix’s wired ramblings, Georgie’s nervy fidgeting and Owen’s hopped-up garrulity.
She had noticed how Georgie stayed close to him, clinging to his sleeve like a comfort blanket, how the others deferred to him as the grown-up among them, though he had been little more than a teenager at the time.
‘Jesus, Rory! All that time and you never said anything.’
‘Doesn’t matter.’
‘Of course it matters.’
‘I can’t help it,’ he said. ‘But don’t worry, I’m not going to jump you or anything.’ He sounded slightly annoyed. ‘Just forget it. It’s okay, I’m used to it. And we’ve been good mates, haven’t we?’
‘Yes, we’ve been good mates,’ Louise said. ‘But Rory, I never wanted to be “good mates” with you – not for one minute.’
Rory looked at her steadily, saying nothing.
‘Didn’t it ever occur to you that I might feel the same way?’
‘No,’ he said flatly. ‘And I wouldn’t expect you to,’ he added. ‘You deserve better.’
‘Rory, there isn’t anyone better than you. Not for me.’
She took his hand, which felt strong and warm, his fingers hard and calloused from guitar strings. ‘I love you,’ she said. ‘I’ve loved you since that day too.’
With his free hand, he outlined the contours of her face, lightly, tracing her cheek, the corners of her eyes, the outline of her mouth.
‘Jesus!’ he murmured.
Then his eyes dropped to her lips, and there was that glorious moment of recognition when she knew he was going to kiss her.
* * *
Will found Phoenix sitting on the terrace, scribbling lyrics on an A4 pad. ‘Hi.’ He sat down in the chair beside him.
‘Hi.’ Phoenix’s eyes were cold.
‘Where’s everyone else? In the studio?’
‘Yeah.’ Phoenix bent his head to his notepad again. ‘But I’d stay out of their way, if I were you.’
‘Sorry?’ What the hell was wrong with everyone today?
‘They’re not your biggest fans at the moment – neither am I, to be honest. We all really liked Kate.’