Brand New Friend (15 page)

He shuddered as he imagined the words leaving his lips.

He shuddered as he imagined the silence that would fall as Ashley contemplated his revelation.

And he shuddered again as he imagined the torture she might inflict on him in reaction to his news.

The silent treatment?

The immediate withdrawal of all conjugal relations?

A lot of furious yelling and slamming of doors?

Or some terrifying combination of all three?

The idea that he might set off a potential megatonne bomb’s worth of feminine fury with one conversation made him wary of broaching the subject without assistance, so the moment he was through the door at home he was on the phone to Phil.

‘Mate,’ said Rob. ‘I need your help and I need it now.’

He told Phil about his evening and what he intended to do next.

‘So, let me get this right,’ said Phil. ‘Despite our previous conversation on this subject it’s your intention . . .’ he cleared his throat ‘. . . to inform your girlfriend that you’re going to be getting drunk regularly with some woman you met in a pub.’

‘I know it sounds bad when you put it like that but, honestly, it’s like hanging out with you and Woodsy only she smells better.’

‘It sounds like suicide,’ said Phil.

‘But what about Ashley being friends with Neil? Surely that gives me some ammunition.’

‘Nope,’ said Phil. ‘Ash still won’t get it. Neil was there before you so he’s not part of the couple equation. Whatever deal they had about working this friends-versus-fancying-each-other thing has been worked out – as evidenced by the fact that they’re not together. Jo on the other hand has arrived after you and Ashley got together so she
is
part of your couple equation. You and Jo won’t have worked out a deal on the friends-versus-fancying-each-other thing and therefore have no evidence that you won’t end up together. Ashley will feel threatened and within her rights to exercise her right of veto.’

‘But she hasn’t got a right of veto.’

‘Oh, yes, she has,’ said Phil. ‘You might not have talked about it but it’s in the small print at the bottom of the contract when you do the long-term thing. It says that once you’re a couple everything you do affects her and everything she does affects you. She will tell you about a million and one things that you don’t care about – like she might be getting her hair coloured or that she bought a different brand of shower gel or that she’s going to visit her mum at the weekend – because she thinks they will impinge on your life in some way. That’s how women’s minds work, mate, believe me. Ash definitely gets a say about Jo, and as long as Neil doesn’t try anything on he gets life-long immunity.’

‘But it’s not fair, is it?’ said Rob. ‘I really do get on well with Jo. And I don’t fancy her at all. We’re mates and nothing else.’

‘So you keep telling me,’ replied Phil. He paused for a moment. ‘Look,’ he began carefully, ‘there
might
be a way round this but it’s a long shot.’

‘Go on.’

‘You see, the problem you’ve got is that you’ve made being friends with Jo into an issue. Even having this conversation with me is fanning the flames.’

‘Good point but—’

‘So, this is what you do. You tell yourself that seeing Jo isn’t a big deal. In fact, you don’t even do that. You tell yourself it’s an ordinary, completely and utterly commonplace thing.’

Rob laughed uncomfortably. ‘But it
is
a big deal – I’m hanging out on my own with a woman I met at a party.’

‘That’s one way of looking at it,’ said Phil. ‘Another is that you’re hanging out with a human being who just
happens
to be a woman you met at a party. You see? It’s all about your point of view.’

‘Ashley’s never going to go for this,’ said Rob. ‘When I tell her I’m going out with Jo and I use the words “she” or “her” she’s going to have me under the bright lights with a gun at my head. It’ll never work.’

‘So don’t use the personal pronouns. It’s perfect when you think about it. You talk about “my friend Jo”. Think about it. After years of social conditioning Ashley will assume that “Jo” is a “Joe”. Which is the sort of outrageously sexist assumption she ought to be ashamed of.’

‘So you think I should lie to her?’

‘No,’ said Phil. ‘You’re not lying because that, my friend, will get you into big trouble. What you’re doing is challenging her preconceived notions about the social construction of gender politics.’

Rob sighed. ‘Sod it,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t look like I’ve got much choice. I’ll call her right now at work and get it over and done with.’

‘Hey, babe,’ said Rob, when Ashley answered her phone. ‘How are you?’

‘Fine,’ said Ashley. ‘Pretty good, actually. It’s been a quiet shift. A few emergencies came in just after ten but we dealt with them fairly quickly . . .’ She yawned. ‘Excuse me. I must be more tired than I thought.’ She yawned again, then added, ‘All in all it hasn’t been too bad.’

‘Great,’ said Rob, bracing himself for what he was about to do. This was his moment. ‘I know we haven’t seen each other for a while—’

‘You’re telling me,’ said Ashley, attempting to stifle another yawn. ‘I can barely remember what you look like. How did your bloke-date with Veejay go? Was he nice?’

‘Put it this way,’ said Rob. ‘We didn’t click.’

‘Poor baby,’ sympathised Ashley. ‘Don’t give up just yet, will you? I know it’s tough but just hang in there. The other guys who called sounded like they had more potential anyway. One will be right, I know it.’

‘Maybe,’ began Rob, ‘but I don’t think I need them now. I’ve finally met someone. I bumped into them the first night I went to the pub on my own. I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t sure I wanted to . . . take things further, but after tonight’s fiasco I’ve decided to give it a go. Anyway, they’re really nice, and I think you’ll like them.’

‘That’s brilliant news,’ said Ashley, ‘the best ever. I’m so pleased for you.’

‘Cheers,’ said Rob.

‘What’s this new friend of yours called?’ asked Ashley.

‘Jo,’ said Rob. ‘Jo Richards.’

That was it. It was out there. Rob held his breath as he waited for her reaction.

‘Well, tell Joe from me that I’m really pleased you’ve managed to find someone you think you might be friends with,’ replied Ashley. ‘Honestly, babe, I just want you to be happy.’

Part of Rob felt so guilty about deceiving her that even now that he had technically told her about Jo he still felt the need for further clarification.

‘So, you’re cool with it?’ he asked.

‘Of course,’ said Ashley. ‘Really, sweetheart, you don’t need my permission to make new friends.’

‘I know,’ said Rob. ‘I just wanted to make sure you were cool with it, though.’

‘I feel terrible hearing you say that,’ said Ashley. ‘I feel like I’ve castrated you or something. You’d have never asked my permission to make new friends in London. You’d have just got on with it and I would’ve had to learn to like their colourful personality quirks. Listen, babe, you’re your own man. I know how much your independence means to you. Just do what makes you happy.’

Rob was well aware that he was employing the worst kind of Homer Simpsonesque reasoning to deceive her, but she had made a more than convincing case for why he shouldn’t feel guilty. She was right. This wasn’t about Rob making friends with a woman: it was about Rob needing to be an independent being. Since he had moved from London, he had felt as though nothing in his life was his own any more. And Ashley was right, too, about him feeling emasculated: in Tooting he had been king of his castle, but in Chorlton he felt like the biggest eunuch on the block. When they went out locally with friends he wasn’t Rob Brooks any more, he was ‘Ashley’s boyfriend’. His own sense of self was gradually being eroded. Who was Rob Brooks if he wasn’t having meaningless conversations about television, music or film? Who was he if the only people he socialised with didn’t understand his outlook on life? Who was Rob Brooks if his girlfriend had the right to veto his choice of friends? To Rob, the answer was simple: Rob Brooks was no longer Rob Brooks. He was becoming someone else and that, more than anything, convinced him he was doing the right thing. ‘After all,’ he said to Phil the following day, when he had finally come to terms with his decision, ‘if a man can’t even choose his friends without his girlfriend getting involved there’s a strong possibility that he isn’t much of a man in the first place.’ And so over the following weeks, as Rob began to see Jo more regularly, he did not feel guilty about what he was doing because, in his mind, it was the right thing.

It was just after ten p.m. the following Wednesday, and as Ashley was working yet another night shift Rob was round at Jo’s house, sitting on the battered seventies-style tan leather sofa having just watched
Dirty Dancing
on DVD for the first time in his life.

‘Isn’t it just the best film ever?’ asked Jo, turning off the DVD player. ‘When I was a kid my parents used to take me on holiday to Woolacombe Bay every summer and I used to dream of being taught some basic moves by the hotel’s dancing instructor. But they never had one at the places we stayed at and even if they did I knew they wouldn’t be as sexy as Johnny Castle.’

‘So that was
Dirty Dancing
?’ said Rob. ‘That was the life-changing film you’ve been going on about all this time?’

‘Are you kidding me?’ Jo wiped away a tear. ‘Didn’t you think it was brilliant?’

‘Can’t say I did. It didn’t get me at all.’

‘How can it not have got you?’ asked Jo, incredulously. ‘Have you no heart? She’s a seventeen-year-old girl, she’s holidayed in the Catskills, learned lots of things about life and the mambo, and fallen in love for the first time. How can you not feel all warm inside after that?’

‘Easily,’ said Rob. ‘Well for starters, it’s called
Dirty Dancing
, right? So how come the dancing wasn’t that dirty then? It wasn’t even risqué. Some greasy-haired bloke rubbing himself up against a scrawny seventeen-year-old girl to some old-time music is hardly the raunchiest dancing, is it?’

‘It was risqué for 1963 when the film’s set.’ Jo sighed in exasperation. ‘In 1963 that was probably as dirty as dancing got.’

‘I think it’s because I’m not a fourteen-year-old girl,’ said Rob, ‘but a thirty-three-year-old bloke. It wasn’t aimed at me.’

Jo looked scandalised. ‘I’m not a fourteen-year-old girl.’

‘Technically, no. But I think – with the exception of Ashley – there’s a fourteen-year-old girl in every woman.’

‘Why with the exception of Ashley?’

‘Because she once told me that when she first saw
Dirty Dancing
with her schoolfriends she was the only one who didn’t like it. She said it was – I quote – “stupid”.’

‘Each to their own,’ said Jo, with a shrug, but Rob could see that she really wanted to say, ‘How can anyone call themselves a woman and not like
Dirty Dancing
?’

Ashley:
So what did you get up to last night?

Rob:
I went round to Jo’s and watched a movie.

Ashley:
Oh, yeah? Which one?

Rob:
I dunno . . . wasn’t my choice . . . Some film about dancing.

Ashley:
Was it any good?

Rob:
Not really. [Pauses.] Fancy going out for dinner next week? Somewhere posh?

Ashley:
That sounds great. What have I done to deserve it?

Rob:
Nothing. I just fancied treating you as you’re not on nights.

It was a Friday night and Rob and Jo were at packed-out Matt and Phred’s Jazz Club on Tibb Street to see some live music. When Rob had booked the tickets a few weeks earlier Ashley had agreed to come with him but her work rota got in the way so Rob had brought Jo instead.

‘Who’s this guy we’re seeing tonight?’ asked Jo, looking at the empty stage in front of her.

‘Josh Rouse.’

‘And he’s British?’

‘No, he’s American.’

‘And this tour is to promote his debut album?’

‘No, he’s made three –
Dressed like Nebraska
and
Home
and this one, which he’s promoting now.
Under Cold Blue Stars.
’

‘Right,’ said Jo. ‘Is he famous?’

‘He’s not in the charts, if that’s what you’re asking.’

‘So what does he sound like?’

Rob shrugged. He hated putting labels on music but he knew he’d have to for Jo or she’d stand there perplexed for the next few hours. ‘It’s sort of an alt-country-grown-up-pop sort of thing.’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ said Jo. ‘What’s alt-country?’

‘Alt-country is . . .’ He didn’t finish the sentence. Instead he laughed and said, ‘Trust me, you’ll like him.’

Ashley:
How was the gig?

Rob:
Great. He played a lot of stuff off the new album, which sounds really cool.

Ashley:
And what did Joe think?

Rob
[pauses]: Jo thought it was great too.

It was ten to ten on the following Thursday evening. Once again, Ashley was working a night shift, which was why Rob and Jo were sitting in what they now considered to be ‘their’ spot in the Lazy Fox. They had arrived at the pub at just after eight and the conversation had included a long list of weird and wonderful websites Rob had discovered, the highlights and lowlights of Denzel Washington’s acting career (Rob’s highlight:
Training Day
– ‘I love it when good cops go bad’; Jo’s lowlight:
The Bone Collector
– ‘The silliest film I’ve ever seen’), and the news that Jo’s cousin Jenny was pregnant (‘Yet another thing for my mother to be disappointed in me about’).