Gus
The apartment was stiflingly hot with the radiators cranked up to their full extent and the heavy scent of a vaseful of dusky roses in the centre of the dining table added to the oppressive atmosphere.
He almost turned on his heel and walked back out again, the draw of the cold fresh air of the street much more appealing than it had seemed moments before when he shivered over the pedestrian crossing.
Amelia’s voice came from the main bedroom, and she emerged into a weak ray of sunlight that filtered through the front windows.
He wondered if she had planned it that way.
She was wearing a close-fitting pastel jumper and tight, figure-hugging jeans, her hair and make-up were immaculate.
She looked stunning but he was curiously unmoved by this fact, as if observing it from afar.
‘I’ve made us breakfast,’ she said, gesturing a manicured hand towards the kitchen counter where piles of pastries and croissants were stacked on a plate, small ceramic pots of jam and butter between them.
A pan of scrambled eggs was congealing on the induction hob and he realised with some irritation that she’d fried up the remaining pancetta mistaking it for bacon.
Regardless of this he was just about to make his usual expression of delighted gratitude, realising that she’d gone to a lot of trouble to make this for him, and then he stopped himself.
No , he thought. Start as you mean to go on.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, dropping his bag on the floor. ‘That was kind of you but I’m not really hungry.’
Amelia’s lower lip wobbled slightly but she plastered a smile back on her face. ‘No problem,’ she said brightly. ‘Do you want a coffee instead? I’ve made a pot.’
‘Yes, thanks. A decaf would be great. I want to try and get a few hours’ sleep.’
She busied herself around the kitchen cupboards, seeming glad of a job to do.
He could tell from the way her hands were shaking that she was nervous, aware that this performance was an important one in determining her future.
The realisation exhausted him as much as it must have exhausted her.
He saw the whole pattern of their relationship suddenly laid bare, the complex charade they’d both been living for the previous two years.
Pretending to be happy just wasn’t good enough any longer, for either of them.
They both deserved better. Faking it until you made it wasn’t really an option where love was concerned.
‘Amelia,’ he said, pulling up a chair. ‘I’m really sorry to be this– uhm– blunt. But I’ve got to say it.’ He took a deep breath, steeled himself. ‘You can’t stay here.’
She almost dropped the mug she was holding but managed to get it onto the table in front of him where the coffee sloshed ominously for a moment before steadying.
‘What do you mean?’ she said, her voice small. ‘I can’t stay here? Why? There’s enough space and– you said yesterday– you said?—’
‘You need to find somewhere else.’ God, this was difficult.
Amelia’s eyes had filled with ready tears and every word felt like he was kicking a puppy.
‘Your mum?’ he said. ‘Or how about Neve? If it’s the money I can maybe help a bit but…
’ He trailed off. He knew it wasn’t the money– either of her parents would have paid for five-star hotel accommodation at the drop of a hat if she asked them.
‘But I want to stay here,’ she said, her lip trembling again. ‘With you. You said you wouldn’t kick me out. You promised.’ A panicky tear squeezed from the corner of her eye taking a thin trail of mascara with it.
‘I didn’t promise. I said that you could stay until we’d had a chance to talk.
’ He gestured to the apartment around him.
‘But you seem to have taken that as an invitation to move right back in, unpack all your stuff, pretend nothing’s changed and we can go back to how it was before.
’ He lowered his voice, made it gentle. He could see she was upset. ‘We can’t go back to that.’
‘We could ,’ Amelia said, her voice suddenly eager as if she’d spotted a chink in his armour. ‘We could try at least. People do it all the time, split up, get back together. Things happen, people make mistakes, errors of judgement…’ She trailed off seeing him shake his head.
‘We can’t,’ he said firmly. ‘I can’t.’
‘But– are you seriously saying that you’re prepared to throw it all away?
’ He could hear a trace of defiance in her voice now, an anger bubbling under the surface.
The sound of a woman used to getting her own way, suddenly thwarted.
‘Did it mean nothing to you? The time we spent together, the life we built? We were good, you and me, Gus and Amelia, the dream couple. We were good together.’
‘We weren’t that great though, were we?’ he said reasonably. ‘You clearly didn’t feel this way a few months ago, and maybe you were right not to?’
‘I made a mistake,’ she said. ‘People make mistakes, Gus, we’re not all perfect like you.
’ A look of regret passed fleetingly across her face, she must have realised that the accusative tone had been an error.
She took a deep breath. ‘Look, we were good together and I made a huge mistake in thinking we weren’t,’ she said.
She sounded genuinely sad, her voice breaking on the last few words.
‘But I know it now. I realised I’m nothing without you.
I want it back, what we had. I want you back. ’
He gulped away the tightness in his throat. He had to say it. Just say it.
‘But the trouble is… I don’t want you back.’
There was silence, broken only by Amelia’s shallow rapid breathing.
Gus dug his fingernails into his palms beneath the table, willing himself not to add any little comments, not to undermine the simplicity and truth of the statement just because he couldn’t stand the awkwardness of the situation.
Amelia had slumped into the chair opposite and at last she spoke again.
‘There’s someone else, isn’t there?’ The belligerent tone had returned. ‘Of course there is. I might have known you wouldn’t hang around feeling sorry for yourself. You’ve got a new girlfriend. That’s why you’re happy to see the back of me.’
He didn’t say anything.
‘Pretty, is she? Prettier than me? Thinner than me, I’ll bet. Younger too.’ The tears began to flow freely now. As if this really was the crux of it, the thing she couldn’t bear– being usurped by a younger, prettier version.
‘There was someone,’ he said eventually. ‘Someone really special. But I screwed it up. I’m not sure I deserved her to be honest.’
‘Wait.’ Amelia sat a little taller. ‘It’s not– it wasn’t that awkward-looking cactus girl, was it? The one who– no– nothing.’ She gave a shrill laugh.
He wasn’t sure what she was talking about.
‘The fact is,’ he said, bringing his hands back to the table and holding onto his coffee mug as steadily as he was able, ‘this isn’t about anyone else, this decision.
It’s about me. I can’t go back to being the doormat.
It’s not good for me– and actually, it’s not good for you either.
You need to be with someone you respect, someone who will tell you when you’re being out of order.
’ He realised he was describing someone like Violet.
He thought back to her frankness when they’d spoken last night.
Her special brand of home truths. No shouting, no histrionics– she wouldn’t be held hostage to someone else’s emotional psychodrama– and yet she’d left him in no doubt.
It was quite clear she thought he’d behaved badly.
Amelia stared down at the table and gave an enormous sigh. Her nose had gone pink and a tear trickled off the end of it, sploshing into her own coffee cup. Gus reached across and took her hand in his. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Truly, I am.’
She nodded weakly and looked back up at him. ‘I loved you; you know. I really loved you.’
His voice was tight. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘I loved you too.’ He wondered whether he’d ever hear those words spoken again– about him.
Maybe this was his one chance, his only chance of love.
Maybe he was being an idiot, destroying what they had.
It wasn’t perfect but… Then he caught himself.
If this was his only shot at lasting romance and he was throwing it away, so be it.
This stifling, guilty, oppressive type of love was not for him.
Not anymore. He squeezed her hand once and pulled away back to the safer territory of his side of the table.
‘Do you want me to go now?’ Amelia said miserably.
He could so easily say no , take your time, there’s no hurry, please don’t hate me… But instead he found himself nodding. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I think it would be best. Like you said when you left last time– clean break.’
She acknowledged the dig with a raise of her eyebrows. ‘Touché,’ she said. ‘Am I allowed to finish my breakfast first?’
He laughed. The tension had broken. They both knew where they stood and suddenly it felt incredibly freeing– it almost seemed as if Amelia felt it too. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I’m not a monster.’
She smiled blearily. ‘No,’ she agreed. ‘I wouldn’t be here if you were.’
He pushed his chair back from the table. ‘Do you need a hand carrying anything to your car?’ he said.
She shook her head. ‘No, it’s fine. I didn’t bring much. There’s only a few bits and bobs…’ They both laughed at how palpably false this was.
‘Okay. I’m going to head off to bed,’ he said, inclining his head in the direction of the back bedroom which he suspected Amelia wouldn’t yet have bothered colonising.
‘Friends?’ He couldn’t help but ask even though he knew deep down it wouldn’t make any difference to his decision whether they could keep things amicable or not.
She gave him a wry smile in return. ‘Gus, is it, or is it not true, that you remain good friends with every single girlfriend you’ve ever had?
Didn’t we invite Lisa and her husband over here for dinner only last year?
Didn’t we ask Zara and Steve to our engagement party?
Of course, we’ll be friends. Just…’ She paused.
‘Just maybe give me a few months to stop sticking pins in your voodoo doll first, okay?’
‘Fair enough,’ he said, and he made his way along the corridor with his heart a little lighter.
It shouldn’t matter whether Amelia thought he was a bastard or not, but there was only so much a man could change.
He would always be someone who cared what people thought of him, he was never going to be the type who would willingly hurt another person’s feelings, but at least now, after Violet’s prompting, he knew he could act in his own interests too.
She’d made him see that his happiness shouldn’t be entirely dependent on the mood of those around him.
It was just sad, he thought as he slid under the duvet, that the woman who had empowered him was also the one who had inadvertently broken his heart.