Going Home (25 page)

Tom and Jess were discussing the best time for them to visit when Miles touched my shoulder. ‘So, this is really happening?’ he murmured into my ear.

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘I’m going to miss you, Lizzy.’

‘Well, me too,’ I said. ‘It’ll be weird not seeing you for ages. Especially after this last year when we’ve been friends
the way we used to be before – well, before David. And now this.’

‘Well, it’s good in that respect,’ said Miles, gazing into his drink.

‘How?’ I asked, as Gibbo came over and squatted beside Tom and Jess.

‘Well, it draws a line under you and David, doesn’t it? And you need that. You’ll come back after a year and it’ll seem like ancient history. At the moment you’re still raw.’

‘I’m not, really,’ I said frankly. ‘I’m over him now. I just – I thought he was the one. And it takes time to realise that you were wrong about something like that. Jaden helped me do that, actually. It all seems like a million years ago now.’

‘Really?’ Miles said curiously.

‘Really,’ I said. ‘For example, for a long time I saw you simply as David’s brother. But for the last couple of months – well, I don’t look at you like that now. I see
you.
Miles. My friend. You’re a better friend to me than David ever was.’

‘I hope so,’ said Miles. ‘Let’s talk about it more tomorrow. I think Gibbo wants us to go now.’

‘Righty-ho, then,’ I said.

Tom stood up officiously. ‘Right, people, let’s get moving,’ he said, and everyone got up to put on their coats. ‘OK, get up, put your coats on. Now, where are the tickets? And where’s my wallet? I must go to the loo. Can you hurry up, those of you who need to use the facilities before we go, please? We’ll meet back here.’

‘We’re all ready,’ said Jess, as Miles passed me my coat. ‘It’s just you.’

‘Right,’ said Tom, and dashed off.

Gibbo appeared between me and Jess. He tapped Miles’s shoulder and gestured that he should step to one side. ‘You don’t mind, do you, mate?’ he said, linking his arms through
Jess’s and mine. ‘Well, this is what I call a pretty bonzer night out,’ he said, as we walked out of the bar. ‘Off with my soon-to-be nieces for some real twenties musical action. Rock on, Tommy.’

‘Yes,’ Miles murmured behind us, as we went out into the early April evening. ‘Vintage Walter situation.’

It’s fair to say that the Gibbo’s Friends and soon-to-be relatives Wish Him
Bon Voyage
night was an unqualified success. Bozzer taught Tom how to wolf-whistle in the interval of
Chicago
, and he proved such a natural that he was cautioned by the ushers in the applause after ‘Give ‘Em The Old Razzle Dazzle’. Frank and Miles discovered a mutual love of racing, and spent the rest of the evening discussing form and swapping tips. Gibbo and Jess burnt a hefty sum on sweets at the bar and ate them, enraptured by the show – Gibbo because of the flesh on display, Jess because it was short and the plot wasn’t too complicated: after eight she tends to fall asleep if she sits in one place for too long. Tom and I whooped and cheered whenever Michael Greco appeared. I’m ashamed to say that Tom ‘I wasn’t officially gay this time last year’ disgraced us by standing up during the curtain call, shouting, ‘Beppe! Here!’ and pointing at himself.

Afterwards we went to Miles’s club in Soho where we drank ourselves stupid: and a party was in full swing to celebrate the club’s first anniversary. A Party with a Disco. Gibbo did something so hilariously noteworthy we all separately
wrote it down so we’d be able to remind Bozzer to mention it in his speech (I found my piece of paper the next day, I had written, ‘Gboo hands crypt ?? why!! For’ Thank god for Miles, he remembered.) So we danced ourselves stupid after that, and one of the last things I remember is Gibbo trying to samba with Frank, and Bozzer staring with un-natural intensity at Jess as I slid off the leather banquette and folded myself up neatly under the table.

So it was with a rather delicate gait and a hazy memory of the previous night’s events that I emerged from my flat the next day as Miles’s car purred outside on the cobbles. I raised my hand in greeting, then gingerly placed the rug, some bottles of water, Twiglets (emergency rations) and some radishes (I always keep them at the back of the fridge: excellent hangover cure, trust me) in the back of his open-top Mercedes, which I coveted with a deadly covetousness.

It was a lovely day, and if my stretch of the Edgware Road had had frivolous luxuries like trees and birds, the former would have been rudely green and the latter chirping merrily. Miles watched as I pulled unsuccessfully at the door handle and slumped weakly against the car. ‘I think I’m going to be ill,’ I said. ‘I can actually smell the wine going into my liver. How disgusting is that?’

Miles came round to my side of the car, opened the door and pushed me on to the seat. ‘No, you can smell the chicken liver pâté in the picnic hamper, you alky,’ he said.

‘I
am
going to be ill,’ I said, resting my head on the dashboard.

‘Lift your legs into the car, Lizzy.’ He shut my door. ‘What you need is another drink. I’ve got some fizz in the back and we’ll have a glass when we get there. Just sit back and enjoy the fresh air. It’ll do you good.’

I didn’t argue, even though the air where I live is 90 per cent lead and 10 per cent carbon monoxide and not fresh at all. Miles put on his shades and edged the car out on to the Edgware Road. ‘I just hope it was worth it,’ he said, as we hit the Westway.

‘What? Feeling like this? I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I can’t really remember the last part much. But what I do remember I really enjoyed.’

‘You looked like you were having fun.’ Miles was trying not to laugh. ‘You offered to give Frank a lapdance.’

‘I didn’t!’ I froze. ‘You’re lying!’

‘I wish I were. I don’t think he heard you, though. He was too busy gazing at Jess’s tits.’

‘Don’t be vulgar.’

‘He
was.
You slow-danced with Bozzer, then sat on Gibbo’s lap and told him you wished he was your blood relative, not Chin.’

Sadly, I remembered doing both of these things. ‘Oh, God.’

‘And you tried to kiss the barman when he gave you a free drink.’

‘I did, didn’t I?’

Disjointed memories of the evening flew at me, as if I was Tippi Hedren in
The Birds.
I shrank into my seat and closed my eyes to try to block them out, as Miles turned on Jonathan Ross and laughed callously at my shame.

We drove in silence for a while, listening to the radio. The sun shone as we headed west and I soon started to feel more human. As we turned off the Upper Richmond Road towards the park, I sat up again and took a sip of water. ‘Argh,’ I said.

‘How are you feeling?’ said Miles.

‘Better,’ I said ruefully. ‘How about you? Aren’t you at all hung-over? You were getting through the wine like – like a hot fish through butter.’

‘Speak English, Lizzy,’ said Miles, patiently. ‘You’re still making no sense. Talking of which, how much sense were you talking last night?’

‘Er…’ I said warily. ‘I don’t know. Depends. What did I say?’

‘You said…well, you said some interesting things when you were drunk.’ Miles paused, giving me ample time to reflect on what I might have disclosed on a number of potentially embarrassing topics.

‘Don’t. Tell me.’

Miles is the kind of man for whom parking spaces magically appear. We pulled into one he spotted in a tree-lined street exactly like the one we had lived in before Keeper House. He switched off the engine and turned to look at me. ‘OK. You said you’d slept with that dorky American.’

‘Oh.’

‘Is it true?’ Miles took off his shades and opened the door.

‘Not sure,’ I said, stumbling out.

‘What’s his name again?’ Miles said, opening the boot and taking out the hamper. ‘Jonquil? Jabba?’

‘It’s Jaden – and be nice.’

‘You clearly are.’ Miles leaned into the boot so his voice was muffled. ‘Isn’t he a bit of a wanker, Lizzy? What the hell were you doing with him?’

‘Er…’ I was thrown by this. ‘Well, he’s a bit
strange
, but he’s not a wanker.’

‘Yes, he is,’ Miles said, standing up. ‘Come on, let’s go. I know the perfect spot.’

‘Right,’ I said, pissed off. I stood in the middle of the road. ‘Er, Miles, shut up about Jaden, OK? I don’t care what you think of him, but don’t be rude about him to me.’

Miles had walked on ahead but he stopped, turned, and saw the look on my face. ‘Sorry, Lizzy,’ he said awkwardly.

‘That’s OK. Just…you know.’

‘I was out of order. I shouldn’t have said that.’

‘Fine,’ I said, relieved. I unbent a little more – he looked shaken. ‘And I’m not going out with him. We’re just good friends. Who have sex. Occasionally. He’s nice.’

We were at the entrance to the park. A little boy on a fat-tyred bike zoomed between us and ahead the land fell away into a haze of grey and green, carved up with white paths.

‘It’s this way.’

We set off, cutting through the middle. Miles was silent for a while as we walked. Then he said, ‘So, are the two of you not…’ He tipped his head to one side and winked lasciviously, ‘wna-wna any more?’

I laughed. ‘No, we’re not. It wasn’t really about that, although it was pretty great…whatever, you know what I mean.’

Miles sighed. ‘Again, no, I have no idea what you mean, but I get the gist. So will you…wna-wna in LA with Jaden?’

‘No!’ I said. ‘Well, I might, but on a strictly now-and-again basis. Is that all?’

‘Sorry,’ said Miles. ‘I’m just jealous.’

‘Of course you are,’ I said. ‘That reminds me. I tried to snog you last night, didn’t I? How embarrassing. I’m so sorry.’

‘Here’s the spot,’ said Miles, obviously not listening. ‘Let’s get comfortable. I’ll pour you a drink.’

Miles threw the rug amid the long grass and the sun beat down. I put on my floppy straw hat and lay on the ground. Miles had certainly come prepared: there was a cool box with bottled water, orange juice and the afore-mentioned champagne, and one of those old-fashioned wicker hampers, with a checked lining and dear little sets of plates and cutlery, stuffed with sandwiches, crisps, pork pies, the pâté and my favourite Scotch eggs. We munched happily for a
while. I could hear children playing in the distance, and the rushing sound of the wind in the bracken all around us. The grass was long enough to hide in, and there was something curiously comforting about that.

After we’d demolished most of the picnic, I started packing away the things while Miles lay back and smoked a cigarette. ‘Thanks so much, Miles. That was perfect,’ I said, as I sat down beside him again.

‘Have some more champagne,’ Miles said, sitting up. ‘Come on, it’s the last bit.’

‘I shouldn’t really,’ I said – it had gone straight to my head.

‘You know you want to,’ Miles said. ‘Come on – how many times in one week does a girl decide she’s moving to the other side of the world?’

‘Oh, go on, then,’ I said. We clinked glasses and sat in perfect harmony for a couple of minutes. I looked at Miles out of the corner of my eye. It was surprising, sometimes, how very much like David he looked, although his hair was longer and wavier and he was shorter. I thought about Jess, how people always said we were similar, and how we both thought that was rubbish. Perhaps it was true, though. I tried to picture what Jess would look like with my hair and vice versa. Then I wondered what we would look like with Mum’s short, curly hair. Then I realized I was wasting time in drunken, pointless speculation, and turned to Miles to tell him, only to find he was fast asleep. I touched his shoulder, but he didn’t move, so I pushed him harder.

He half opened one eye. ‘Hello,’ he said.

‘Hello. Sorry, you were asleep, and I woke you.’

Miles reached behind me and pinched my ribs. ‘Evil girl,’ he said.

‘Ouch!’ I yelled, and pinched him back, then grabbed his arms and held him down. ‘I’ve got you. Admit defeat,’ I said, laughing down at him.

‘You’ve got a caterpillar in your hair,’ he observed.

I screamed, and my hands flew up to dislodge it. Miles caught my wrists and rolled me on to the ground. I screamed again and laughed as he loomed over me, his hands pinning mine to the ground. ‘Ha!’ he said.

‘You bastard.’ I was laughing so much now that I could hardly breathe. I could feel the soft wool of the blanket on my arms. ‘God, I can’t believe I fell for that. Ow.’

I kicked my legs in the air, pushing him from behind. He fell forward on top of me, so that our faces were millimetres apart. Then something changed. He stopped and looked at me. He let go of my hands and stroked my shoulders. And I reached up and kissed him, sliding my arms round his neck. He was breathing hard, his body was heavy on mine, and perhaps it was the hangover or the champagne, but something about him, about doing this, felt right. I reached for him as he kissed me, pulling him closer.

Then Miles stopped. He sat up again and took my hand. ‘Well,’ he said.

‘Well,’ I said.

‘I didn’t expect that to happen.’ He rubbed his head.

I sat up and picked some grass out of his hair. ‘Neither did I.’

There was a silence.

‘I—’ Miles began. He picked up the empty bottle and put it into the hamper.

‘What?’ I said, suddenly feeling like my friend Kathy at school whom we’d nicknamed the Lunger, with very good reason.

‘Nothing, I—’ He stopped again, and turned to me. ‘I’m really sorry. I didn’t want to – to make a pass like that.’

‘You didn’t!’ I said. ‘It was me. I lunged. I’m sorry. But—’ I brushed some grass off my skirt.

Miles caught my hand, leaned in and kissed me again. ‘I’ve wanted to do that before,’ he said.

‘Really?’ I said.

‘Yes, of course,’ Miles said. ‘For – well, it doesn’t matter how long. But, yeah. I’ve always had a bit of a crush on you.’

I’m not the sort of person people have long crushes on, I thought. ‘I’m not the sort of person people have long crushes on,’ I said.

‘Well, you are to me,’ Miles said. He smiled, and my heart stopped. ‘You always have been. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. You’re going away. And there’s the David thing. I don’t want to embarrass you, or put you on the spot. I shouldn’t have done it.’

‘You didn’t do it!’ I said, exasperated. ‘Miles, shut up for a minute. We both wanted to do it. And this has got
nothing
to do with David.’

‘Really?’ said Miles.

‘No – you’re you, Miles. How could I look at you any other way?’

‘Well, that’s what I always thought,’ Miles said. ‘That’s why I’ve never said anything before.’

‘Well, something’s changed,’ I said. ‘Everything’s changing. Perhaps that’s why…oh, I don’t know.’

We were silent again.

‘Lizzy,’ Miles said. He took a deep breath. ‘I know David broke your heart, but have you ever thought the reason things didn’t work out between the two of you was because…well, maybe he was the wrong brother for you?’

‘No,’ I said truthfully. He flinched, as if I’d slapped him. ‘Well, not really,’ I amended. ‘Because he hurt me a lot, you know. So perhaps that’s why I never…But, Miles, this is weird. I’m sorry, it’s just…it’s hard to get my head round.’

‘I know it is.’ Miles tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. ‘I know, darling Lizzy, I know. It is strange. And I don’t know what we do now. Except…I don’t want this to be it.’

I looked at him, really looked at him. ‘Neither do I,’ I said calmly. It seemed to make sense, all of a sudden, and I felt detached from it, as if I were merely a spectator, someone watching this scene from behind a tree, rather than the girl sitting on a blanket in the park with two empty glasses by her feet.

Miles was staring at me, quite white, with a fierce intensity. ‘Lizzy?’ he said, swallowing hard.

I saw that he was nervous, and my heart went out to him. ‘Yes?’ I said.

‘What are you doing for the rest of the day?’

I met his eyes. ‘Well…’

Miles moved closer, and kissed my neck. ‘Why don’t we just…why don’t we stay here for a bit?’

‘Yes?’ I said softly.

He moved up my neck to my ear, put his hands on my hips. ‘And then…why don’t we just see?’

‘OK,’ I said.

‘And then…tomorrow – we can just see again,’ he murmured.

‘We’ve got two months till I go,’ I said.

‘Two months till you go,’ Miles said, kissing my collar bone.

‘Yes,’ I whispered.

‘Definitely?’ he said. He put his hand over mine on the grass. It was cold, clammy. He smiled, nothing like David now, bent forward and kissed me, gently at first, then more insistently, the pressure of his hand on mine now almost painful on the hard ground. I reached up to hold him and he pushed me down on to the rug, and as I lay
there I felt dizzy. Everything seemed so strange, but the answers were right, and as Miles kissed me again, his hands running over my body, I gave up wondering and surrendered to it.