Bookends (29 page)

But of course who can say if the trust will ever be there again?

He asks whether, if push came to shove, I would have to make a choice, and I have to stop for a while, amazed that my immediate and unconscious answer would be Lucy. Amazed because had he asked me this question six months ago, I would undoubtedly have said Josh, because Josh, after all, has been my friend for far longer.

Josh and I have a shared history, a common past, have known everything about one another since we were eighteen, but all that has now changed, and his infidelity has placed a wall between us, just as Bookends has permanently cemented my friendship with his wife.

I realize that Josh and I haven’t really spoken for months, that I have done my utmost to avoid him, and that the overwhelming emotion I have when Josh is around is anger.

But I know that James is right, that there is nothing I can say, or do, to change things. He goes to the kitchen, pulls another bottle of champagne out of the fridge (which is slightly worrying only because I haven’t eaten anything and I’m beginning to get seriously lightheaded), then sits down again, a few centimetres closer.

Now this, I have to admit, would normally startle me, but the champagne is definitely starting to have an effect, and I note the closing distance between us with nothing other than amusement.

But then he really startles me.

‘What about you and relationships?’ he says, out of the blue. ‘How come you’re still single?’

I start to laugh. ‘That’s like asking how come the sun is yellow. Or a tree is green. It just is. It’s a fact of life. Didn’t you know that even the name Cath is synonymous with singledom?’

James smiles. ‘You’re happy being single, though, aren’t you? You’re so independent, you never seem to need anybody. Christ, it’s taken me weeks to even get to see you by myself.’

‘I don’t know about that. I’ve just always been incredibly happy with my friends, and I suppose I never have really needed anybody.’

‘It’s funny.’ He shakes his head. ‘When I first met you I thought you were incredibly tough, but you’re really soft inside, vulnerable. Oh God, I’ve gone too far. That sounded so naff, I’m sorry.’

I start to blush, he starts to blush, and we both start speaking at the same time. I stop to let him carry on, and he does, looking at his glass rather than at me, and I know that he’s uncomfortable saying this, but he obviously feels he needs to make a point. ‘Look, without wanting this to sound like a line, I just think that you ought to let that softness show more often. You’re far more attractive when you do.’

I laugh nervously, because no one’s called me
attractive
in a very, very long time, and even then I’m not entirely sure they meant it, and then, without even realizing it’s happening, he’s kissing me.

Or I’m kissing him. Either way, we’re kissing, and once I’ve got over the shock, because I cannot even remember the last time I had a proper, passionate kiss (although this is far more gentle than passionate), we pull apart and I cannot wipe the smile off my face.

‘Is this okay?’ James whispers, and I nod, wondering whether it’s the champagne or the kiss that’s keeping this dopey grin on my face, but then not wondering for too much longer as he kisses me again.

‘Shit!’ I jump away as champagne pours on to my trousers, my having become so carried away the glass just flopped from my hand, and James laughs.

‘Let me get a cloth,’ I say, but he shakes his head, takes me by the hand and leads me up the stairs.

I follow him mutely, feeling as if I’m in a dream, because this surely can’t be happening, not to me. I just don’t
do
this any more. I don’t have sex. Aaargh!
Sex
! Oh God. He’s leading me to the bedroom.

Fortunately the grin is still plastered to my face, hiding this inner turmoil, but anyway, my body doesn’t seem to be listening, as it follows him up the stairs and into his bedroom as if on auto-pilot.

The grin disappears pronto as he starts undressing me. Oh God, I pray, as he unbuttons my cardigan. Please let my bra not be too old, please let it not be too grey, and I have to admit I do lose the passion of the moment as I furiously try to remember which bra I put on this morning, and when was the last time it had been washed.

Two minutes later I breathe a sigh of relief as James switches off the main lights, a soft glow coming from the small lamp on what is obviously his – right – side of the bed, and I make a mental note to stick to the shadows on the left.

And then I don’t have to think any more, because what has felt like a film, suddenly starts to feel very real indeed, and I close my eyes, wrap myself around James and…

… beautiful, tender, loving, warm, comfortable… shall I go on? How could I have forgotten? How could I have lived without this? How could I have run away from this for so many years, when it isn’t scary at all, it’s absolutely right, and lovely.

It’s so lovely that just after James has entered me (condom-encased, of
course
), just after he’s whispered, ‘Is this okay?’, just as he’s starting to move inside me, I start to cry. Not like that time in James’s office. Crying this time with pleasure. With forgotten memories. With sheer and utter bliss, and despite the tears I’m smiling, and although James is concerned, I reassure him and soon there’s nothing left to say.

… And, let’s just say that Si was right, it is
exactly
like riding a bicycle, and everything I thought I’d forgotten comes back in a flash, and it feels wonderful.

Better than wonderful. Perfect.

I have to get up three times in the night to pee, which is hardly surprising considering the amount of champagne I had to drink, but every time I come back into the bedroom to see James lying there, the duvet thrown back from his naked body, I can’t help but grin to myself again.

And every time I climb back into bed, rolling over to my side, away from him so he isn’t hit with the full force of morning mouth, he reaches over for my hand and gives it a squeeze, falling asleep again, holding my hand.

James sleeps like a log. I listen to his breathing and roll over to watch him when I am quite sure he is asleep, because sleep is evidently not on the agenda for me tonight, not after this.

But eventually I seem to drop off for a short while, and I swear, if it is at all possible to fall asleep smiling, then that is what I do, and as I give in to sleep I think that it’s not that I had forgotten how lovely sex could be, it’s that it never
was
this lovely before.

I wake up before James the next morning. I creep out of bed and pull on my clothes, making my way to the bathroom to brush my teeth as best I can using my finger, and leave before he wakes up.

And it doesn’t feel quite the same in the morning. In the cold light of day I’m frightened. No. Make that terrified. I’m terrified because I have now put myself in the position of potentially being hurt, and that is something I have managed to successfully avoid for years.

And James could really hurt me, I think, coming back out of the bathroom and sneaking a final gaze at him before he wakes up, before I leave, avoiding the inevitable awkwardness of the morning after. Look at him lying there, his hair even more tousled than usual, his lips puffy with sleep, so vulnerable and soft and
gorgeous
, I could almost squeeze the life out of him.

He opens his eyes. I jump slightly, and he smiles sleepily, holding out his hand, and I wasn’t expecting this. I walk over and perch on the edge of the bed, and he pulls me down for a kiss, while I thank God I had the presence of mind to get up and swallow toothpaste.

‘Where are you going?’ he says.

‘Home.’ I start to get up. ‘So much to do.’

He hoists himself up on the pillows and rubs his eyes, looking so much like a little boy I want to just take him in my arms, but of course I can’t do that. I have to leave.

‘Cath,’ he says, holding my hand and looking deeply into my eyes. ‘Don’t leave. Don’t put the barriers up again, you don’t need to, not with me, and not after last night.’

I falter, not knowing what to say, and he can see there’s a chink of hope.

‘Tell you what. I’ll get up and we can go out, get the papers and have breakfast together. And before you say no I bet you didn’t have any plans today anyway.’

‘Oh, okay,’ I finally grumble, standing up and walking out of the room to avoid having to see him naked in the cold light of day, because I’m sure I would just shrivel with embarrassment, and more to avoid him seeing the huge grin that has just lit up my face. ‘I’ll wait downstairs.’

Chapter thirty

Si and I stop at the corner shop en route to Lucy’s to pick up some wine, even though it’s hardly necessary, with their well-stocked wine cupboard, and a couple of giant bars of Cadbury’s Dairy Milk, because there’s no better sustenance for a Saturday night in than chocolate, and then we roll up at Lucy’s.

I haven’t said anything about James. Ridiculous as this may sound, this is my secret right now, and I want to keep it precious and safe, at least until I know it’s not just a quick fling.

‘Who is it?’ Max’s voice wafts through the door, loud and clear. I look at Si, but he just grins and keeps quiet, so I give it a whirl.

‘Hello, Max. It’s Auntie Cath and Uncle Si. Are you going to be a good boy and open the door?’

There’s silence from the other side, and I can tell that Si is loving every second of this. I make a face at him and eventually he leans down and says, ‘Max?’

A pause, then, ‘Yes?’

‘It’s Uncle Si. Do you want to see what I’ve got for you?’

Another pause. ‘Yes.’

‘You can’t see it if you won’t open the door, can you?’

Brilliant. Si and I stand on the doorstep listening to Max’s thought process, and then, when Max decides that in fact Si’s plan is not flawed after all, the door slowly opens, and we look down into Max’s expectant face.

‘Okay, Max.’ Si crouches down and looks him in the eye. ‘Which would you prefer? A fire engine or… a piece of chocolate?’

Max stops to think. ‘A fire engine,’ he says eventually, as I start to laugh.

‘Oh well. Chocolate will just have to do.’ Si shrugs and hands him a small Dairy Milk, which doesn’t seem to go down at all badly, and makes a change from Si’s most recent presents for Max, which include a sailor, a policeman and an Indian warrior. Although Si would not dream of saying anything to Josh for fear of compromising his son’s impending masculinity, Si is aiming to keep going until Max has the entire set of the Village People.

‘Cath! Si! I’m in the kitchen!’

‘There’s a surprise,’ Si laughs, and we walk down the corridor, taking off our coats as Lucy appears in the doorway.

‘Quick, quick, big gossip! Huge!’ She hurries us into the kitchen, where bowls of guacamole are already sitting on the table, with nachos waiting to be dipped in and a bottle of wine.

‘You’ve got to sit down because you’re never going to
believe
this!’ Lucy is bursting, bursting to tell us something, and I’m assuming it’s good news, because if she’d found out about Josh there’s no way she’d have this mischievous look on her face.

‘Pour some wine, quick. Okay. Listen. I can’t believe this myself. This weekend is the weekend that, as you know, Ingrid’s away with the mystery lover.’

‘Yes?’ Si and I both say simultaneously.

‘Do you want the short version or the long version?’

‘Short,’ I say, as Si says, ‘Long.’

‘Oh God. Well, the middle version is that Ingrid had said the mystery lover was picking her up this evening and I was supposed to be at work and we’d got Laura to babysit, but I got home earlier than I’d planned, and you’re never going to believe what I walked in on…’

Si and I shoot each other worried glances, but no, it couldn’t possibly be Josh.

Lucy sits back and grins like the cat that got the cream. ‘I walked in on Ingrid and the mystery lover locked in a passionate embrace in the kitchen.’

‘And?’ Si’s now starting to look bored. ‘Some swarthy Italian? Playboy type? Medallion and hairy chest?’

Lucy shakes her head, her smile growing wider. ‘Nope,’ and she pauses dramatically until even Si starts to look interested. ‘It’s
Portia
!’

‘WHAT?’ Si knocks his wine glass over, my mouth falls open and my chin hits the floor.

‘You
are
joking?’ I leave it to Si to speak, as I am, for possibly the first time in my life, completely speechless.

‘Nope.’ Lucy shakes her head. ‘I know!
Portia
! Isn’t it
extraordinary
!’

‘Extraordinary. Are you sure?’ Si’s now looking doubtful.

‘Sure? Si, they pulled apart looking terribly embarrassed, and then Portia shrugged and said we had to find out sometime, and they both grinned and left the house holding hands.’

‘Nooooooooo,’ I manage to breathe out eventually, my eyes as wide as saucers, because this is the very last thing I ever expected. I mean, Portia? Ingrid? How? When? Oh Christ. This is just too much for me. I sit down, mouth still agape.

‘I know. Portia and Ingrid! In
lurrve
!’ Lucy’s loving every second of this.

‘Actually,’ Si says, ‘I always thought Portia had a leaning towards her Sapphic sisters.’

‘Did you bollocks!’ I respond, because it’s the first I’ve heard of it.

‘What?’ He looks at me, innocence personified. ‘Just because I may not have mentioned it to you doesn’t mean I didn’t think it.’

‘Yeah, right,’ I say, grinning, because I know, and he knows I know, that this is absolutely rubbish. ‘But Christ, how did this happen?’

Lucy shrugs. ‘Ingrid’s hardly likely to tell
me
the whole story, is she?’

‘Didn’t Portia drop any hint at all when you were over there the other night?’ I turn to Si.

‘No. We didn’t even mention Ingrid. And anyway, what’s she going to say, oh by the way, Si, I know we’ve known one another for thirteen years, but I’m now a lesbian and I’m in love with Ingrid?’

‘Si, wouldn’t she be bisexual rather than a lesbian?’ Lucy, ever politically correct, interrupts.

Si shrugs.

‘But Portia!’ It hits me again. ‘It’s just unbelievable.’

‘You should have seen Josh’s face!’ Lucy starts to laugh.

‘Josh?’ Si and I together, and I suddenly think, God, were we wrong
again
? And a deep shame engulfs me as I realize that yet again Si and I have jumped to conclusions and punished Josh for something he evidently hasn’t done, and I shoot Si a worried glance, only to see him shooting exactly the same back to me.

‘I thought Josh was away?’ Si manages to sound breezily nonchalant as Lucy’s busy concentrating on unwrapping the Dairy Milk.

‘He was supposed to be, but it got cancelled at the last minute.’

‘So where is he now?’

‘Still trying to pull off this big deal. He’s upstairs in his study, working, and I know I should have told you he’d be around but quite honestly he’ll probably be stuck up there all night and I haven’t seen the two of you like this for ages, and I didn’t want you not to come because you thought Josh would be around.’

I for one, am completely speechless, and I can see that Si is also lost for words, but thankfully Max chooses that moment to disrupt the shamed atmosphere in the kitchen by zooming around the kitchen table with Pokémon in hand, screeching into chairs and making a huge amount of noise, until Si scoops him up and asks whether he’d like a story.

Lucy looks at him gratefully, and as Si carries Max out of the room he turns to me and says, ‘Come on, Cath, it’ll be good practice. Come and help me.’

Lucy starts to laugh. ‘Good practice? Good practice? My darling Cath, you cannot mean to tell me you’re already talking sproglets, are you? Although heaven knows it’s about time.’

‘Don’t even go there,’ I whisper furiously, because,-okay, okay, I confess. Lucy does know about James – I had to tell
someone
– and I don’t want her saying anything, but luckily Si is standing at the foot of the stairs, just out of earshot, making big eyes at me and frantically waving me over.

‘Okay, I’m coming.’ I get up and as soon as we’re safely upstairs Si sends Max off to find last year’s Furby, telling him that the Pokémon wants to destroy it, and then whispers, ‘Christ, we’ve got to apologize to Josh. I feel awful.’

‘I know. But what are we supposed to say?’

‘Oh, God knows, but I think we just have to do it.’ He shoots a glance at Max, who’s on his hands and knees rifling through the toy chest and muttering to himself as he pulls the toys out.

‘Will he be all right?’

‘He’ll be hours,’ Si says, pulling his sweater up to reveal a small brown and white Furby nestling in his waistband. ‘I had to pull the bloody batteries out to stop it speaking Furbish.’ He rolls his eyes as I start to laugh. ‘Come on, let’s go and find Josh.’

As we walk up to the study door we can hear the sounds of typing, and Si makes the sign of the cross, pretends to pray, then knocks on the door. The typing stops.

‘Yup?’

‘Josh? It’s Si. And Cath. Can we come in?’ Si is already opening the door as he asks this, making it a purely rhetorical question, and Josh swivels round from his desk.

‘Hi, guys,’ he says nonchalantly, which, if you didn’t know any better, you might think was a sign that there was nothing wrong, but there is a warmth missing in his voice, and I suddenly realize how awful this must have been for Josh. We are, after all, two of his best friends, and for weeks now we’ve been giving him the cold shoulder without letting him know the reason why, and poor, poor Josh, with all his insecurities, must have felt terrible. Why did I not think of this before?

‘Josh, we need to talk to you,’ I start, then stop, because how on earth do you explain, or justify, or apologize for what we’ve done?

‘The thing is,’ Si says, moving across the room to the futon pushed against the wall and sitting down. ‘We feel ridiculous and we feel ashamed because we thought you were having an affair with Portia – ’

‘Well, actually that was my fault, because I saw you in Barnes one night with Portia and I immediately jumped to the wrong conclusion, but then we discovered you weren’t,’ I interrupt.

Si continues, ‘But only because we then thought you were having an affair with Ingrid.’

Josh just sits there and looks at us, not saying a word, his face giving nothing away.

‘And now we know that you didn’t, you hadn’t, and we feel terrible because we’ve been so awful to you, but we were only trying to protect Lucy,’ I say lamely.

There’s a long silence.

‘What made you think I would be unfaithful to Lucy?’ Josh says after a while.

‘Well, you were hardly ever here, and you kept having these late meetings and then, when you were here, you weren’t interested in sex…’ Whoops. I think I’ve just gone too far, and I see Josh clench his teeth, which means he is seriously pissed off, but, repressed as he is, he won’t be letting it out, which is something of a relief.

I shrug apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, Josh. We both are. We were just so angry and upset at the thought of you hurting Lucy.’ Si and I hang our heads in shame.

And Josh shakes his head, looks at the floor, then up at the ceiling, then at the floor again. ‘I didn’t know what it was,’ he says eventually. ‘I couldn’t figure out why the pair of you had just switched off. At least now I know.’

‘Oh, Josh,
please
forgive us?’ I can feel my eyes welling up, and I feel terrible, and I know I won’t feel good again until I have his forgiveness.

‘What can I say?’ Josh looks first at me, then at Si. ‘You’re my oldest friends, and I suppose, at least, you’ve been honest with me. But why didn’t you say something before? I mean, if you thought I was having an affair, why didn’t you confront me with it instead of just cutting me dead? Christ, we’re not children any more.’

‘But we’ve never had to deal with this kind of situation before,’ Si says. ‘And I agree, with hindsight we were absolutely wrong in what we did, and we would never do that again, and if we ever have a problem in the future I swear to you we’ll sit down and talk about it.’

‘You mean, if you ever think I’m having an affair again?’ but Josh’s voice is soft and I can see he’s forgiven us.

But before Si has a chance to answer, the study door is pushed open and Max stands there, eyes bright and alert, the war between Pokémon and Furby completely forgotten.

‘Daddy?’ he says, climbing on to Josh’s lap. ‘Can I go to affair too? And can I have a toffee apple and a candy floss?’ The three of us start to laugh, and it is the first time I have ever wanted to kiss Max.