Lines We Forget (10 page)

And as the minutes tick by, she finds herself enjoying all the stories Charlie’s small circle of friends share about him. How they all met, what a great, stand-up guy he is. Tales of past nights out and University shenanigans that she’s pleased to hear are mostly positive.

One guy with a large tattoo snaking up from his wrist to his bicep nudges her and says, “This one’s always been a sensitive old soul, haven’t you, Charlie?”

He quietly laughs, shrugs. “I guess.”

The guy continues. “Always tucked away in his room. Even when we all moved into a shared house in our second year, he’d still keep to himself. Apart from when there was free beer going round or if we had any ladies come visit.”

Anna doesn’t like the way he winks after the last part, how he says “ladies” directly at Charlie, who just shakes his head in amusement.

“Speaking of ladies. Did you guys see that Margo’s turned up?” the guy says to the group. “With Jenny, I think.”

She notices how Charlie’s arm stiffens, how the muscles in his neck tense, but she doesn’t say anything about her earlier run in or their semi-argument over cheese or about what Jenny had divulged to her about their intense relationship. How she seemed to still have a keen interest in him and thought they’d get back together. One day.

Deftly changing the subject, one of his other friends turns to ask if Anna’s a musician too, assuming that’s how they’d met.

“Oh no. I’m not musical in the slightest. Two left feet, awful rhythm,” she jokes. “Charlie was the one who did most of the work.”

“I can’t take all the credit,” he replies with a grin. “Anna’s got guts. Seriously. She came over and asked if I wanted to get a coffee with her.”

“Which turned out to be a tea, not coffee at all.”

“Yeah.” Charlie smiles as his friends’ heads bounce back and forth to listen to them both reminisce about that fateful evening. Anna is heartened to hear him confess to instantly feeling the need to see her again. How he just knew it was meant to be.

Later she joins him and one of his old band mates out on the impressive terrace to chat and watch him smoke. When they return inside, the party’s in full swing.

A large projector screen now sits above the fireplace, and Jools Holland’s round face stares back at them. He’s shouting loudly about how close it is until his annual countdown. He calls it a “Hootenanny”
but Anna’s not sure it looks like a lot of fun in the televised studio as sour faced musicians and bands stand around, waiting.

Still, it’s a tradition and the party guests seem to love it, screaming and hollering for the sound to be turned up.

She asks if Charlie wants a quick top-up of wine before showtime starts, aware they’ve got five minutes on the clock left until midnight. Instead he kisses her forehead, takes her glass, and hotfoots it to the kitchen.

When those around her start shushing others to turn the music on the stereo down, she starts to worry where her handsome man and drink might have disappeared to. A jovial Jools is back on the projector, announcing something. She can’t make out a word he’s saying with all the fuss and noise.

A minute later and he’s shouting a bunch of numbers. She watches as couples begin to hold on to each other, raising their glasses high in the air. Party poppers go off again and the room is full to bursting with smiles and excitement.

“Five. Four. Three,” Jools cheers, matched by a chorus of voices that surround her. Eddie repeats the words loudly whilst holding on to the shoulders of others.

“TWO. ONE!” everyone sings in unison. “HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

Anna sits back with her hands over her ears as poppers dance wildly above.

Eddie jumps up and down. Big Ben’s brassy chime can be heard, along with the echo of fireworks going off outside on the terrace. She picks at the sequins on her dress as they brightly pop and fizzle against the dark night sky.

Charlie’s nowhere to be found. As she peers into the kitchen she notices the couple from earlier up against the oven. Giving each other a Happy New Year to remember.

When she accepts a sweaty bear hug from Eddie, the only person to notice her sat like a lemon amidst the chaos and celebration, she catches a glimpse of blonde hair over his shoulder.

Out on the terrace balcony, Anna spots Charlie’s features. Can clearly make out his blue eyes and rosy cheeks. She recognises the plaid pattern of his shirt, and also the person he’s out there with. A darker silhouette with arms failing about, half masked by the sliding door. Tears stream down Jenny’s face.

She’s clearly upset, and she’s pulling Charlie in and pushing him away like she can’t make up her mind. Shouting at him, her mouth wide, nose scrunched.

Frozen to the spot, she watches as Jenny’s hand reaches up to touch his face, the way Anna would if Charlie had said something romantic or kind.

He looks away, puts his hands up. She’s not sure if it’s a sign of protest or to signal he’s giving up. Jenny keeps throwing her arms wildly before turning her back to the room.

Maybe it’s the vegan cheese or the fact she’s gone through a whole bottle of red, but a wave of nausea crashes in Anna’s stomach. There’s a tightness in her chest that feels like she’s been a smoker her whole life.

Then she hears the familiar melody of “Auld Lang Syne” play out from the large projector. Guests begin to form a line, their arms linked, to sing at the top of their lungs and welcome in a New Year with open hope.

Eddie’s blissfully unaware as he lets go and moves on to the next person. As Anna sits back down, the sequins on her dress catch on the cushion, tearing at the seams, and her heart sinks.

Because outside on the terrace, away from the noise and celebration, Charlie’s got Jenny in his embrace, hand on the small of her back, and not on hers.

Chapter Ten

Charlie

January 8
th
2009

Dropping the plectrum to the ground during another classic, Charlie strums a hard D and frees his hands.

On a biting cold January morning even the familiar sound of coins falling at his feet can’t keep him from feeling down. Not even the five-pound note weighted beneath the spare change gives him any satisfaction.

Charlie stands in his usual spot outside the city’s busiest Tube station and plays to no one in particular. Not caring for attention or acknowledgment, because the only person he cares to receive it from is still ignoring him.

One week in and Anna won’t return any of his calls.

Not since she hailed a cab outside Eddie’s in a hurry, the sequins from her dress leaving a trail for him to follow.

The image of her middle finger appearing against the taxicab window whilst she mouthed for him to
fuck off
is a tortuous reminder of how disastrous New Year’s Eve had truly been.

Jealous ex-girlfriends and alcohol had been a lethal mix he now knows better than to get involved with. Trying to be the good guy and give Jenny a friendly hug was a really bad and ill-timed mistake.

When she’d cornered him in the kitchen he’d initially given her short thrift, not wishing to engage in any chitchat, as he knew how she’d twist anything he said. Translating his words into what she wanted to hear to fit her narrative. Always trying to push his buttons, act as if nothing bad ever happened between them.

She’d been drunk too, an empty bottle of beer in her hand as she swayed and told him she’d met his new “plaything”—a word that made his ears flare with irritation. Charlie really didn’t like how she’d called Anna a tart or that she’d thought he’d downgraded. Gone against type, which was news to him because if he did have a type then it certainly wasn’t someone like Jenny, definitely not anymore.

As her cheeks started flush and she began to raise her voice, he’d pulled her past the large groups of party guests out onto the terrace so she couldn’t cause any more drama. In hindsight this had been a big mistake. He’d been aware that the countdown was rapidly approaching and that Anna would start to wonder where he’d gotten to, but with Jenny and all her tears he felt trapped. Unable to leave her in such a state, arms failing, shouting about how he’d broken her heart. Which was just the kind of thing she would say even though she’d been the one to slam the door in his face the last time they’d seen each other. Back when she’d decided she’d had enough, couldn’t mould him into the perfect boyfriend she’d hoped he’d magically turn into –with a better job, smart expensive clothes, more money.

Jenny had even listed all his faults in spectacular fashion as if she’d been rehearsing such a speech for years. Her true thoughts and feelings spilling out until he realised that their on-off relationship needed to be put to rest for good. Her silence for the three months after had cemented the fact they were over, at least to him. Unfortunately, out on the terrace as the fireworks went off she’d told him that she’d just needed some time apart, that in her mind they were still together, always connected. That it wasn’t the end.

She’d cried and cried and his instant reaction was to put his arms round her, calm her down. Be nice, friendly, and sympathetic though he felt like she didn’t quite deserve it. Still, for a moment it had stopped all her tears and red-faced ranting. Then he heard a taxicab pull up and the front door slam below them and his heart sank further as he raced to follow Anna out. She ran fast, almost yanking the door handle off the cab in her rush to leave. Charlie knew then that she’d witnessed his and Jenny’s exchange. His hands round her back. How it must have looked. He still can’t feel anything but guilt.

And back out on the street days later, fishing for another plectrum, Charlie thinks that he’s royally fucked up the only relationship he’s ever really cared for. How it’s seriously messing with his mind and ability to do anything. As is evident by the way he can’t even be bothered to sing the right lines to songs or pluck strings with any enthusiasm.

People notice, he’s sure of it as he half-heartedly knocks out a Bob Marley cover on a sodden winter’s day. There’s no desire to indulge in showmanship or fancy solos. He forgets most of the words too, mumbling instead to fill in the gaps before deciding to skip back again to a song that compliments his dark mood.

Trying to settle his fingers onto the correct string for the millionth time, Charlie smells the faint aroma of sweet tea and something else all too familiar.

He notices her scarf first, as he usually does. Follows the colourful polka dots and scent of perfume like a trail until he meets her gaze.

Anna stands to his right side, her fingerless-gloved hands clutching two steaming paper cups. Her eyes wander back and forth between the guitar and Charlie’s look of pure shock until she smiles.

“Hello,” she says, biting at her bottom lip.

Another plectrum falls into a puddle as he loses his grip and forgets how to breathe. The verse for “Ain't No Sunshine” sticks in his throat and he coughs out a mess of tangled lyrics that sound foreign even though he’s been playing it endlessly all afternoon.

Charlie wonders if she’s secretly been watching the entire time.

“Hi.”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt, just thought you might be here,” she says quietly. “It is a Thursday after all.”

Of all the ways he’s pictured their overdue reunion, meeting her again out on the street certainly hasn’t been one of them.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you.” He hates how he’s at such a loss for words even though he’s run through exactly what he wants to say to her when finally given the opportunity a million times.

Anna offers out one of the cups and says, “It’s just tea.”

“Thanks.”

Slowly he watches as she lowers her head and starts shifting on the heels of her boots. He knows she’s waiting for him to say something, anything other than a limp, almost inaudible thanks. So he takes a deep breath and uses his trusty guitar as a means of propping himself up with the courage to speak.

“Anna, I am really, really sorry about New Year’s.”

“Please, it’s okay,” she replies, stopping him from saying more. She holds up the palm of her hand to enforce it. “I didn’t really think this through, did I? Turning up here, hoping to see you. I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry for acting like an idiot.”

Her voice sounds even better in person, he thinks after listening to it for days via her voicemail. It gives him small comfort to hear there’s no anger or bitterness in it.

“Do you think we could go for a walk, that’s if you want to or don’t mind?” she asks between sips from her cup. “Or I can come back later after you’ve finished?”

Taking off his guitar with such eagerness causes him to knock the tea from his hand. It spills to the pavement and snakes its way under Anna’s boots. She taps out a little splash and laughs.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” He tries to catch the paper cup from rolling off the curb as the guitar swings under one arm.

She laughs again and he knows there’ll never be a time when he’s not happy to hear it.

“Don’t worry about it, silly. There’s plenty more tea left in the world. We’ll grab another on our way to the park.”

“The park?”

“Yeah, there’s a park about four roads down.” She pauses. “That’s if you do want to come for a walk.”

Charlie really does, he’s just not vocalising it. Can’t seem to find the ability to speak when his mind’s a jumble of questions. Trying to find the reason behind Anna’s sudden appearance after such a fraught period of absence.

He finds the strength to nod instead. Pulls a hat from his back pocket and slips it on. Laying down the guitar, he snaps the case shut and lets the pennies rattle about.

He needs to tell her how sorry he is for leaving her alone at the party and hope she trusts his explanation for it.

Careful to keep a respectful distance, he lets Anna set the pace as they tread the street towards the large trees that loom behind office buildings and high rises.

“You know that I didn’t mean what I said, back in the taxi cab,” she says like a whisper that’s been playing on her mind. “I’m sorry I told you to fuck off. I hate that I did that.”

“I’m sorry for everything,” he sighs, hoping she believes it.

She slows down her steps. “I’m sorry for making you feel like you have to be sorry for everything.”

As they round a corner, a streak of bright sunlight illuminates the way. Charlie stops to shield his eyes and when he finally looks out, she’s close by his side, face against the sunshine, wild hair blowing in the breeze. He marvels at just how beautiful she really is.

Finally, he remembers how the verse went. Anna’s hand, as it slips into his, magically untangles the mess of forgotten lyrics.

***

Anna

Scooping up the loose change from the bar, Anna tucks two packets of crisps under her arm as white foam escapes down the pint glass. Quickly she takes a fingerful, lets the bitterness settle on her tongue.

On her way back towards the roaring fire, she thinks about how glad she is that they never made it to the park or got Charlie another cup of tea. How the heavens opening up was a small blessing, allowing them an excuse to take shelter in a nearby pub instead.

And she doesn’t even care that the pub’s sign hangs off at the brackets or that the carpets are all sticky. She thinks of it as a typical, cosy London boozer. All peeling Victorian wallpaper and hard wood furniture like the tatty church pew that Charlie’s commandeered for them over by the fire.

The low hum of conversation between elderly patrons hugging the bar and the music vibrating through the walls brings back memories of the night he got up on stage and sung to her. It was the night she realised that she liked him more than anyone else before.

Returning to see his scruffy mane of hair and piercing eyes, Anna sighs and hands over his drink.

“Don’t ask me what these are. I just picked the pump clip with the funniest name and hoped for the best.” She laughs, still soaking up the rogue beer foam from the glass.

“I hope it’s not a Bishop’s Finger I’m about to drink,” Charlie teases, which lifts her spirits again. She’s really missed that voice of his.

“Gross. No, I decided upon the one that made me laugh, not want to throw up.”

“The suspense is killing me. Come on, which one have I ended up with?”

“Hoptimus Prime.” Anna can’t help but snort. “If I remember correctly it’s a double pale ale or something. Not going to lie, it was the cheapest too.”

He laughs and she feels like the last five days have been a complete and utter waste of time and energy. Missing out on moments like these.

“I pushed the boat out too and got us some crisps. I’m afraid it’s the rather unexciting choice of Ready Salted or Salt & Vinegar.”

“Both excellent choices, thank you.”

Anna fiddles with a beer mat, and taps her foot against the table. “Thought it was the least I could do after dragging you away from playing only to make you walk miles in the pissing rain.”

Below the church pew, she can hear the faint sound of Charlie’s scuffed trainers brushing against the back beam, like an offbeat nervous tune, and she wonders if he’s trying to work up the courage to talk about the night at Eddie’s—which is the big pink elephant in the room, still wearing its Happy New Year’s party hat.

When he clears his throat and pushes back his hair, she knows it’s probably fair they both discuss it, if only to clear the air once and for all.

“Anna, I know that you don’t want to hear me say this again but I feel that you deserve to hear it, properly. Over and over,” he says quietly. “I am so sorry about what happened. About everything.”

There’s something oddly appealing about the way he apologises, Anna notes, feeling awful for watching his lips instead of listening, but she can’t help it. The week-old stubble he’s sporting, paired with his wicked blue eyes, steals her concentration and blocks out the rest.

“I was so worried about you, especially when you got in that cab. I just didn’t know what to do or how to explain that there’s absolutely nothing to worry about because there’s zero, zilch feelings between Jenny and me. Really.”

The mention of her name pierces through Anna’s inappropriate perving.

“All she kept talking about was how you’d taken her cheese, something weird like that—I guess because she was real drunk—and about how pretty you were, are.”

“It’s fine. I get it now. It was just a shock to see you together like that,” she replies. “The cheese thing was just stupid. Long story.”

“I want you to know that nothing happened. It was only a hug, one that I gave begrudgingly and regretted instantly,” Charlie insists, cheeks flushing.

“To be honest, you didn’t look like you were much enjoying her screaming into your face, but the timing was just awful and it looked a certain way, from where I stood.”