His 'n' Hers (32 page)

Read His 'n' Hers Online

Authors: Mike Gayle

BOOK: His 'n' Hers
2.71Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
‘Tea will keep you awake, though – the caffeine.’
‘Is there much in it?’
‘I read it in a magazine once.’
I laugh. ‘You sound like my fiancé. He’s just been telling me that anything I drink to get me off to sleep will keep me awake.’
The night porter smiles. ‘You’re getting married?’
‘Tomorrow.’
‘And you’re getting married here?’
‘In the Hampton Suite.’
‘Congratulations,’ he replies, and offers me his hand. Although I feel odd doing it, I shake it. His hands are huge, freckled, slightly clammy, yet reassuringly strong. ‘You will be very happy,’ he says warmly.
‘How do you know?’
‘I just know these things. Don’t you think you will be?’
It’s a simple question. Certainly not worthy of tears. And yet here they are again for the second time in less than an hour. One after another, they roll from the corners of my eyes, down my cheeks into the crevice by my nose and along the edge of my mouth so that when I lick my lips I can taste salt. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say, turning away from him.
‘Have I upset you?’
‘No, it’s just me. I’m being silly.’
‘I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just making pleasant talk about your wedding.’ At the very mention of the word ‘wedding’ the tears increase tenfold. ‘I make things worse.’
‘No, you haven’t,’ I say, trying to sniff away the tears. ‘It’s just me. Please ignore me. If you could just find me a couple of teabags I’ll be out of your way.’
‘No, no, no. I can’t give you teabags when you are this upset. I must make you the tea.’
‘No, really. Honestly I’ll be fine. I don’t want to bother you.’
‘Please, it’s no bother at all.’
For a moment I stare at the night porter looking at me so kindly that I just want to cry even more. ‘I’d love to have a cup of tea with you,’ I tell him, between sobs.
‘You wait here,’ he says, ‘and I’ll be back in several moments.’
8.10 p.m. (US time)
2.10 a.m. (UK time)
I check my watch and calculate the time in England. I’m not feeling the slightest bit tired and, despite the distraction of Marian, my mind is still churning away at the problem in hand. ‘It’s a woman,’ I say to her. ‘It’s a woman on my mind.’
‘But not your girlfriend?’
I lower my voice. ‘No, not my girlfriend.’
‘Is this a woman you’re currently seeing?’
Instinctively I look up the plane towards Helen’s seat. ‘No . . . but it’s complicated. I used to be married to her. It was the longest relationship I’ve ever had. But it didn’t work out.’
‘So why is she on your mind now?’
‘If I told you she was getting married again tomorrow you’d think that that was the reason, wouldn’t you? But you’d be wrong, because a couple of months ago if I’d found out she was getting married it wouldn’t have bothered me in the slightest. Not for a second.’
‘So what’s changed?’
‘I saw her about a month ago.’
‘By accident?’
‘She called me . . . and . . . well, I can’t really explain it but something happened that . . . well, all I can say is it put a seed of doubt in my mind. I’m not sure I didn’t make a huge mistake in letting her go. And, well, when she gets married in the morning that’ll be it. I’ll never know.’
‘What changed your mind?’ asks Marian, looking intrigued.
‘I could tell you but it wouldn’t make much sense.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you have to know the full story. You had to be there.’
‘So why don’t you tell me the full story? We’re not landing for quite a few hours yet. You can’t sleep and I love listening.’
‘Look, this isn’t very me. I don’t do this sort of thing.’
‘It’s just talking. A problem shared is a problem halved and all that. But who knows? In telling me about this woman—’
‘Alison.’
‘In telling me about Alison you might clear things up for yourself.’
I have my reservations even though what she’s saying makes total sense. But, given that I don’t have a better solution and she seems a nice person, I decide to give it a go. ‘Are you sure you won’t get bored?’ I ask.
‘Absolutely not,’ she replies. ‘I love hearing people’s stories.’
I clear my throat. ‘Okay, I’ll tell you all about me and Alison.’
2.15 a.m. (UK time)
8.15 p.m. (US time)
As cups of tea go, the one in my hand has probably been one of the best of my life. While I’m drinking it I’m learning several things about the night porter. His name is Anatoly, he’s fifty-five and has been living in Warwick for the past five years since he moved here from London. He’s originally from Siberia, has two grown-up daughters (one my age who lives in Moscow and a younger one in Ottawa) and an ex-wife still in Siberia. I love listening to him talk about his life: his whole manner is comforting. I can’t help but feel there is something not only wise about this man but trustworthy too.
‘Now do you feel better?’
‘Yes, much better, thank you.’
‘But not tired?’
I laugh. ‘It must be the tea.’
Anatoly laughs with me, then looks serious for a moment. ‘Do you want to tell me why you cry? Is it because of the wedding?’
I nod.
‘Is he not a nice man?’
‘He’s lovely.’
‘You don’t love this man, then?’
‘I love him to bits.’
‘But?’
I smile. He’s right. There is a ‘but’. ‘It’s complicated.’
‘Love is always complicated,’ says Anatoly. ‘That’s why it’s love.’
‘The reason I can’t sleep is that I’ve got something on my mind . . . or maybe it would be more accurate to say that I’ve got someone on my mind.’
‘Not the man you marry tomorrow?’
‘A man from my past.’
‘I see.’
‘Do you?’ I ask. ‘Do you really? Because I don’t. I don’t see at all.’
‘This other man – do you love him too?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Does he love you?’
I let out a small laugh. ‘I don’t know that either. He more than likely doesn’t. All I do know is that a month ago I saw him for the first time in nearly four years and something happened and it’s made me . . . well, it’s made me unsure. How can I not be sure if I love someone else when I’m going to get married in a few hours? It isn’t fair on Marcus. It would always feel like he was getting second best.’
‘Why don’t you contact this other man?’
‘Tonight? I couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right, would it? The morning of my wedding.’
‘But surely you have something to say to him?’
‘No, he’s been on my mind a lot, that’s all. We were together a long time, you see. We even got married. It was the longest relationship of my life.’
‘And this thing that happened, what was it?’
‘It’s hard to explain without telling you everything.’
Anatoly smiles. ‘Then tell me everything.’
‘Everything?’
‘Well, you can’t sleep. And I am sitting here all night. And you say you want someone to talk to. Why not?’
‘Because . . . well, because you don’t want to hear about me and my ex-husband.’
‘But I tell you I do.’ Anatoly raises his eyebrows.
‘Really?’
‘Yes, really. I’ll make us another cup of tea and then you tell me everything about this other man. What’s his name?’
‘Jim,’ I reply. ‘His name’s Jim.’
9.15 p.m. (US time)
3.15 a.m. (UK time)
‘Would you like a mid-flight snack?’ interrupts the stewardess.
‘What is there?’ I ask, even though I’d heard her, less than twenty seconds ago, give Marian the options.
‘A cheese roll, a tuna roll or a ham roll.’
‘What kind of cheese is it?’
‘Cheddar.’
‘I’ll have the ham,’ I reply.
The stewardess hands me a tray, then has to go through the whole thing again for the benefit of the man next to me because he was listening to his headphones.
‘How’s your food?’ I ask Marian, who ordered the tuna.
‘Good,’ she replies. ‘I love airline food. How does yours look?’
I take the cellophane off my roll. It looks about as unhappy as me. ‘Unappetising.’
Marian laughs. ‘Right then, well, if the food’s that bad there’s no excuse for not getting back to your story.’
3.17 a.m. (UK time)
9.17 p.m. (US time)
‘Taxi in the name of Perkins,’ says a large bespectacled man in a thick grey jumper, interrupting my conversation with Anatoly.
‘Which room?’ asks Anatoly.
The taxi driver shrugs so Anatoly has to look up the name on the hotel computer.
‘Room twelve,’ he says eventually. ‘I’ll ring them.’ He picks up the phone and dials their number. ‘There’s a taxi here for you,’ he says, when they pick up. There’s a long silence while Anatoly listens to the reply. ‘They say they didn’t order a taxi,’ he tells the driver.
‘I’ll check with base,’ says the taxi driver gruffly.
Anatoly smiles in my direction, as if to apologise for the interruption. A few moments later the taxi driver returns.
‘It wasn’t Perkins,’ he says. ‘It was Hodgkins.’
Anatoly sighs wearily, then goes through the same process all over again. This time it’s the right person. ‘They’ll be down in a moment.
‘I’ll wait in the cab,’ says the driver.
Anatoly turns to me. ‘I’m sorry about that.’
I laugh. ‘There’s nothing to be sorry for. You have a job to do.’
‘But, still, it’s not nice, these interruptions. They break up your story.’
‘Right,’ I say, smiling. ‘Now, where were we?’
10.01 p.m. (US time)
4.01 a.m. (UK time)
‘Excuse me,’ says the bloke sitting next to me, stopping my narrative.
I notice it’s that curious time on flights when people start getting up
en masse
to use the loo as if they’ve all got synchronised bladders. I unbuckle my seat-belt, Marian undoes hers and we shuffle into the aisle to let him go through.
‘It feels good to stand up,’ says Marian.
‘Hmm,’ I say absentmindedly. I’m looking towards the front of the plane trying to spot Helen.
‘Looking for your girlfriend?’
I nod. ‘I’m suddenly feeling a bit guilty telling you all this stuff. I mean, right now you know stuff about me that Helen has no idea about.’
‘The way you’ve got to look at it is this: whatever happens, us talking is going to benefit her. If you decide to stay with her at least you know that you’ve thought it all through. If you decide that Alison’s for you, you’ll be doing Helen a big favour because it’s better that you let her down now rather than later.’
I think for a moment. ‘Do you think it’s inevitable I’ll let her down?’
‘Only if you’re in love with someone else.’
Suddenly I feel uncomfortable. ‘I do love, Helen, you know . . . I’d better go and see her.’
I walk up the aisle towards her seat, looking for the top of her head as I get closer. I can’t see it and only realise why when I’m standing parallel to her row: she’s fast asleep. Her head’s resting on her shoulder and a blanket is covering her legs. She looks absolutely peaceful. The woman next to her eyes me suspiciously. I give her an awkward half-smile and head back to my seat.
4.07 a.m. (UK time)
10.07 p.m. (US time)
‘Would you like more tea?’ asks Anatoly, as I pause in my narrative to get my bearings.
‘I’m fine,’ I reply.
‘Do you mind if I have one?’ he asks.
‘No, by all means, carry on,’ I tell him, and he disappears.
Bored, I begin leafing through the in-tray for anything interesting. I’m just about to check the out-tray when I hear someone behind me.
‘Hello,’ says a girl in her early twenties. ‘I wonder if we could have the key to room eighteen.’
‘No problem,’ I reply, and stand up to get it off the board. This is the moment, however, when I realise the girl in front of me is not alone.
‘Alison, is that you?’ It’s my cousin Martin. He’s about the same age as me and works as a solicitor in Barking.
‘Hi,’ I say sheepishly. ‘I bet you’re wondering what I’m doing behind the reception desk of the hotel at this late hour.’ I look at the girl. ‘Hi, I’m Martin’s cousin. I suspect you might be staying here because you’re coming to my wedding tomorrow.’
‘Er . . . hi,’ says the girl. ‘I’m Jessica, Martin’s girlfriend.’
‘Hi, I’m really pleased to meet you.’ I turn to Martin, who is wearing a very puzzled frown. ‘It’s good to see you, Martin. You look great.’
‘Thanks,’ he replies, clearly bemused. ‘And you’re doing what in Reception?’
‘I didn’t have any tea in my room,’ I explain, ‘so the nice night porter, who was sitting here less than a minute ago, made some and we’ve been talking ever since.’
Martin laughs. I step out from the counter and kiss him. ‘It’s good to see you,’ he says. ‘You just took me a bit by surprise, that’s all. We’ve been to dinner with some friends I hadn’t seen for years, which is why we’re so late. Anyway, we’ll be off to bed now. I’ll see you in the morning.’
‘I’m back,’ says Anatoly, returning from the office at the rear with two mugs of tea. ‘I made you one anyway . . .’ His voice trails off when he realises we’re not alone.

Other books

Sarah's Seduction by Lora Leigh
The World at Night by Alan Furst
Generosity: An Enhancement by Richard Powers
To Lure a Proper Lady by Ashlyn Macnamara
Loopy by Dan Binchy
Macrolife by Zebrowski, George;
Crown in the Stars by Kacy Barnett-Gramckow
True Believers by Jane Haddam