Coming Down (4 page)

“
Hampstead’s miles away.”

“
I’ll chip in for the petrol.” I’m kidding. I’ll pay for it all. “I bet Allegra has never been there. We can buy some food from Marks and Spencer’s and have a picnic.” I start to get excited. “And maybe we can get her a pad and some pencils and she can draw or something.”

Lara looks at me from the corner of her eye.
“Are you okay? You seem all over the place at the moment.”

It
’s so typical she notices when nobody else does. I can zip on a persona like an old winter coat for everybody else, but Lara’s too perceptive. I lean forward and turn the radio down. “I don’t know,” I admit.

“
Is everything all right with Simon?”

I blink a couple of times.
“Yeah, why do you ask?”

She shrugs.
“You haven’t mentioned him much.”

“
He’s been busy at work. If he was ten years younger he’d probably be pulling all-nighters.”

We both laugh. The image of Simon staying up all
night with only Red Bull for company is incongruous. “In fact, I was going to ask you if I can come to Alex’s gig next Friday. Simon’s going to be away and I don’t fancy staying home alone.”

Alex is Lara
’s husband. He’s a printer by trade, but he has a band he jams around with and sometimes they play gigs at their local pub. They’re totally laid back and unpretentious. I like Alex a lot, not least because he let me live with him and Lara for a year when I had nowhere else to go. I’ve missed seeing him. Our circles are so different nowadays. He’s chilled out and cool, while I’m old before my time.

“
Of course, we’d love that.” Lara has a huge grin on her face and I try not to let her see how bad it makes me feel. I can’t remember the last time I went out with her anywhere. Most of my time is taken up with Simon, either going out to dinner with clients, or hosting them at our place. It isn’t that Simon doesn’t get on with Lara and Alex, they just don’t have a whole lot in common. It’s hard work for all of us when we get together. “You could stay over at ours. Maybe we can hit the markets on Saturday morning.”

A smile twitches at my lips. I can
’t remember the last time I went to the markets, either. I used to love browsing around stalls when I was younger, picking up vintage pieces and mixing them in with the rest of my wardrobe. “Let’s do it.” I sound resolute and it makes us both a bit giddy.

I
’m still smiling when we get to Carter House. When Allegra walks down the stairs she’s wearing an old pair of jeans and a sweater that’s a couple of sizes too small. Her face lights up as soon as she sees us. She runs into my arms, almost winding me, and I bury my face in her hair. It holds a faint aroma of smoke, and I wonder if she’s even washed it since she got here.

When I let her go, she smiles shyly at Lara. They don
’t get to interact at the clinic. Lara is usually busy with the adults.

“
Hi, pumpkin.” Lara reaches out and messes her hair. Allegra’s cheeks turn a rosy pink. Lara doesn’t seem to notice, and decides to tease us both. “Indiana Beth here thinks we should go on an adventure.”

Allegra
’s eyes widen. “What sort of adventure?”

“
Oh, I don’t know, maybe hunt some sharks or kill some witches, or fight some pirates for their treasure,” Lara says.

I grin.
“I’m thinking we could stake a few vampires and then have a picnic.”

Allegra screws up her forehead, pretending to consider the options.
“Are they bad vampires?”

“
Probably. Though if you want to be sure we could always ask them first.”

She grabs hold of my hand and practically pulls me out of the door. Lara lingers back to sign the paperwork.
“What kind of picnic are we having, anyway?”

It turns out to be the kind of picnic where
we buy way too much food, and then watch as the birds swoop down, trying to grab the crusts from our fingers. We sit on a tartan wool blanket at the top of the hill, and look down over London. The air is clear and we can see all the way to the city and beyond, the familiar skyline of Canary Wharf shimmering in the distance.

Days like these remind me why I love
living in London so much.

Allegra picks up another sausage roll and pulls the pastry off, stuffing it into her mouth. She discards the pale pink meat, throwing it down on the paper plate in front of her. Outside of its pastry
shell, the sausage looks limp and wrinkled.

“
Beth?”

I turn to look at her.
“Yes?”

“
Why do people take drugs?”

I
’m quiet for a minute. Her question seems to have knocked the air from my lungs. I glance across at Lara, who catches my eye and shrugs. Message received; this one’s all mine.

“
It’s an addiction, Allegra. At first it makes them feel good, and then they get so used to it they just can’t stop.”

“
Why can’t they stop?”

“
Because it feels so nice at first.”

She picks a daisy up from the grass beside the blanket and starts to pull off the petals, one by one.
“But it’s bad for you. How can it feel nice?”

I take a deep breath in. The air smells of salt and vinegar crisps,
mixed with freshly cut grass—a typical English springtime day. “Things can feel nice and still be bad for you. Like too much chocolate, or staying up late when you should be asleep. But drugs are worse because they can make you poorly, and stop you from functioning properly.”

I don
’t want to tell her they can kill. I know that more than anyone. But she’s eight years old and her mum’s an addict; I’m not sure I’m ready for her to add up the sums right yet.

“
The problem is, once you’re addicted, it’s really hard to stop. That’s why we have the clinic, to try and help people.”

“
People like my mum?”

“
Yes.”

She chews on her bottom lip.
“So why is she still taking drugs? Why aren’t you helping her?”

“
We’re trying.” My voice catches in my throat. “But it can take a long time. And sometimes people have setbacks and get worse again.”

Allegra
leans into me, and I bring my hand around and stroke her hair. “Will my mum ever get better?”

I pull her closer.
“I don’t know, Allegra. I hope so.”

She curls her arms around me.
“So do I.”

4

“Are you sure you don’t want to come? Drew won’t mind one extra if I call him.” Simon zips up his case and looks at me expectantly. “I’ll let you hold my gun.”

“What an offer.”

He
’s being sweeter than usual. I know he’s been looking forward to his boys’ weekend away for a long time. They’re off to shoot some grouse or something like that; I haven’t really been paying attention.

“
You go and enjoy yourself. Lara’s invited me to stay for the weekend.”

“
I’ll be leaving after lunch on Sunday.” He lifts his case from the bed, and reaches to embrace me. When he pulls back, there’s a soft smile on his face. “Try not to get into any trouble.”

“
How much trouble can I get into over one weekend?”

“
Quite a lot.” He looks wistful. For a moment, I wonder if he really trusts me. Since we’ve been married, I’ve done nothing to cause either of us any trouble. I left
that
girl behind years ago, although sometimes—especially recently—I miss her. Simon simply smiles and places a quick peck on my cheek. When I stand at the door and watch him climb into his sports car, I wonder why my stomach is churning. Maybe I’ll miss him more than I realise.

After Simon
has left, I take a quick shower and pull on some clothes. A few minutes after eight, I leave the house, heading for the Tube station at the end of our road. The platform is full of people, some dressed like me for a casual night out, others still in their work gear, heading home after a long day. It’s a microcosm of the bigger city: people and nationalities of every description, all pushed together into each other’s personal space.

The George and Dragon stands on the edge of a
leafy green square, the Victorian edifice decaying and crumbled. The painted pub sign—depicting the moment when George finally goes in for the kill—is swaying softly in the evening breeze. As soon as I push open the heavy wooden door, I’m hit by the warm, musty air and the noise of a dozen conversations. Scanning the room, I seek out Lara, trying not to look too out of place.

The George is a spit-and-sawdust kind of pub. It hasn
’t succumbed to the gentrification of the surrounding area, although the clientele is an interesting mix of old timers and trendy young things. The older ones sit in the public bar, studiously avoiding the lounge, which is where I’m standing now, looking at the stage in the corner that’s already set up for the band. A drum kit, guitars and microphone are all patiently waiting for their masters to return.

It
’s been so long since I’ve been somewhere like this. Giving up gritty pubs has been a side effect of my marriage—as much as making sure I always shave my legs and never pass wind when Simon’s around. Yet I find that I’ve missed it. A rush of nervous anticipation fills my veins as I push through the crowds of drinkers.

I spot them at a table in the far corner
. Alex is sitting next to Lara, his tattooed arm casually slung across the back of her chair, his other hand wrapped around a pint glass full of water. I have a soft spot for Alex. He and Lara welcomed me into their lives at a time when I was at my lowest ebb. Back then, they’d talk with me into the night, before gently covering me with a soft cotton blanket when I cried myself to sleep. They’re good people, and I’m a bit annoyed at myself that I’ve neglected them. I lived with them for over a year after I managed to escape a squat. It was probably the best year of my life.

Until I met Simon
, I remind myself.

It
’s Alex who sees me first. A huge grin splits his cheeky face and he stands up and walks toward me, enveloping me in a bear hug as soon as we are within touching distance. I cuddle him back, feeling a mixture of relief and exhilaration. It really has been too long.

“
Where’ve you been, doll face? I’ve missed you,” he says.

“
I’ve missed you too.” I’m almost laughing. I’d forgotten just how cockney Alex sounds. He’s a real geezer, and he likes to play on it as much as possible. “I’m sorry, I feel really bad I haven’t seen you in ages.”

I can feel him shrug.
“No worries, you’ve been busy. Different worlds. I get it.”

When
I pull back I feel regretful, because he’s right in so many ways. Simon wouldn’t be seen dead in a place like this. But I feel at home; excited, nervy and young.

And I like it.

“Hey, you changed your hair.” I reach up to touch his black, gelled quiff. It’s stiff as a board. The sides and back of his hair are cut short against his scalp. “It looks great.”

“
So do you.” Alex steps back and holds me at arm’s length. He’s scrutinising me, but in a way that doesn’t feel sexual or pervy. I know this stance; he’s making sure I’m okay. “You cleaned up nicely. Not bad for an Essex girl.”

He
’s always teased me about where I come from. I love the way we slip back into our old routine, as if I hadn’t disappeared off the face of his earth for a year. I guess us both seeing Lara every day, even if we haven’t seen each other, has kept the connection going.

“
When do you play?”

Alex glances at his watch. He has
ink scrolling all the way up his arm. I spot a couple of new ones. If he turned it over, I’d see Lara’s name tattooed on his wrist. How she ever stopped swooning over that gesture, I’ll never know. “In about an hour. Do you want a drink?”

I smile.
“I’ll have a beer, please.” I can’t remember the last time I had a beer. It feels bad, almost illicit. A kid rifling through their parents’ cocktail cabinet.

“
You go and sit down, I’ll bring it over.” He inclines his head at the table where Lara and the others are sitting. I start to walk over, the smile still playing at my lips, but then I stop dead in my tracks. Leaning on the table a few seats across from Lara, staring up at me through narrowed eyes, is none other than Niall Joseph.

My pulse instantly speeds. My throat constricts until it is painful to suck air through it, and I find myself breat
hing faster to compensate. All the while I’m frozen to the spot, wondering what the hell he’s doing here, and why on earth he’s staring at me like that. Then Lara turns to look at me, smiling broadly, and I shake my head a little, trying to get some sense into my brain and some movement to my limbs.

Of course she would invite Niall to the pub. He
’s a new colleague, recently arrived in town, and the perfect project for her and Alex to take on. If he’s anything like he used to be—arty and charismatic—they’ll have both fallen in love with him.

It
’s so easy to do.

Somehow I manage to propel myself across the room. I lean down and hug Lara, trying not to feel resentful, reminding myself she has no idea that Niall is the guy who twisted my world until I ended up a wet dishrag. Of course she knows what happened
—she’s one of the few I’ve confided in—but I don’t think I ever actually said his name. So why should I feel angry at her for inviting him?

I haven
’t felt this mixed up in a very long time.

“
Here, have this.” Niall stands up and offers me his seat. For some reason his chivalry grates.

“
It’s fine; I’ll go and grab a stool.” I look feebly around. The pub is full to bursting. There isn’t a spare seat to be seen.

He won
’t take no for an answer, standing up and lifting my bag from my hands. It’s big and heavy—containing clothes and toiletries for my night at Lara’s. He places it down next to his now-vacant seat. I swallow the irritation and sit down, squeezing myself onto the edge of the chair.

“
I can share.” I point down at the half of the seat that’s empty, offering it to him.

He shakes his head.
“I’m happy to stand.”

“
Oh come on, my bum’s not that big.” As soon as I say it, Lara shouts out a laugh. Niall grins and shakes his head again, but this time more in amusement than denial. He gracefully sits next to me, reaching his left arm along the back of the chair, stretching out his right leg to brace himself against the floor. He’s sitting close. So close our hips are touching, and our thighs are pressed together. I can smell his aftershave and the faint tang of beer that wafts from his lips. The heat of his body radiates through the thin material of his t-shirt.

It makes my own body do strange things. My heart is still racing and my mouth has dried up. The hairs on my forearms stand on end. I
’ve shared seats before—I’m small so I’m always the first to have to squash up—but this is different.

I try to take control.
“How are you?”

“
I’m good. You?” He moves his arm, and his fingers accidentally brush against the back of my neck. “Sorry.”

“
It’s okay.” Because it is. I can do this. I’m older, married. No longer that girl who fell head over heels for the beautiful art student. “There’s not a lot of room here.”

Alex passes me a bottle of Peroni, and I notice his brow rise up when he spots me sitting so close to Niall. I reach out to take it with my left hand, my right being held captive by Niall
’s body, albeit unintentionally. As I curl my fingers around the bottle, I feel him shift next to me.

“
You got married. Nice ring.” It isn’t a question, but it answers a lot of mine. The way he says it, the intonation in his voice, tells me he remembers me. Though it’s hard to believe anybody can forget what happened that summer. I know I can’t.

“
I’ve been married for two years.”

“
Where’s your husband?” He’s doing that narrow-eyed stare thing again. It pulls at his forehead, wrinkling into a frown. Horizontal lines furrow in his skin.

I feel myself start to blush. I hate that I
’m almost embarrassed to tell him about Simon. To admit I married an older man. “He’s away.” I’m not saying he’s gone grouse shooting. I’m not. Maybe I should be proud about who he is, who we both are, but the clash between my past and present is making everything awkward.

“
That’s a shame.”

I nod.
“It is.”

“
Is he nice?”

I start to laugh, because this one is easy.
“Clearly. Otherwise I wouldn’t have married him. Anyway, you met him at the gallery.”

Niall scrunches his face up in an effort to recall. I watch him for a moment, taking in the sharp jaw and heavy brow. If it
’s possible, he’s only grown more glorious with age.

He
’s still silent, and I take pity on him. “Simon’s Elise Gordon’s dad. He owns her gallery.” I try to ignore the way his thick brows rise up. I feel as though he’s judging me. I start to babble to fill in the awkwardness. “We met at a fundraiser for the clinic. You’d like him, I think.” What a crock of shit. I don’t even know this guy sitting next to me. Not anymore. What right do I have to say whether he’d like my husband or not?

“
Does he make you happy?”

It
’s the strangest question. Said softly, in a way that caresses my skin. His accent hasn’t diminished in the years since I last saw him. I can recall the way he used to whisper in my ear. The memory makes me want to sigh.

“
He takes care of me.” It’s not a lie. Simon is fond of me. He looks after me. I am content.

“
I’m glad.”

I turn to look at
Niall. His deep blue eyes stare right into mine. Our faces are only inches apart and I can feel the warmth of his breath on my skin. Maybe I’m reading all kinds of things into his expression that probably aren’t there: accusations, recriminations, apologies. Each one of them makes me yearn for things I cannot have. He’s close, too close. It’s as if he’s taking me over, nucleus by nucleus, and as with years before, my thoughts are filled with him.

Then
our silent conversation is interrupted by the first strum of a guitar as it reverberates from the speakers, and I find myself breathing a sigh of relief. The excitement flowing through my veins feels more potent than any drug I’ve taken, and it’s laying me bare.

* * *

As the evening goes on I get progressively drunker, finding solace in the bottom of a beer bottle and each popping of a new cap. Lara watches me with worried eyes and I flash her the occasional reassuring smile, trying to let her know that my inebriation has nothing to do with substance abuse and everything to do with avoidance.

By the time Alex
’s band launches into the second half of their set, I’m dancing in my seat, relieved Niall has moved into one of the now-vacant stools across the table, giving me space to breathe, to move, to be. My skin still tingles with the memory of his closeness, and it’s giving me an artificial high. Being near him makes me feel as though I’m nineteen again. I love and I hate it.

“
You okay?” Lara pulls her chair close to mine. “You’re not acting like yourself.”

“
I’m good. Great.” I flash her another smile. It doesn’t wipe away the worried expression on her face.