The Best Thing I Never Had (21 page)

‘I’m Leigha,’ Leigha told Johnny’s date; she made her voice as kind and friendly as she could.

‘Iona.’ The girl met her gaze politely enough but didn’t move a muscle. The foursome stood in awkward silence. The events coordinator – completely forgotten up until this point – cleared her throat conspicuously. Everyone turned to stare at her and she blushed, flustered.

‘You’re rooms 9 and 10,’ she told them, moving behind the Reception to fetch the keys. ‘Mr Healy and Miss Elliott would like you all to meet down here at half past six before the wedding party dinner.’

‘Dinner?’ echoed Leigha. ‘What sort of dinner? What’s the dress code?’ Johnny laughed, a deep, familiar rumble.

‘You know there’s really nowhere round here for you to dress up for, I wouldn’t worry about it.’ Leigha shot him a playful look. That did it; Iona fingers twitched and she reached to hang herself off Johnny’s wrist. He didn’t stop looking at Leigha – really, really looking.

It’s been five years, thought Leigha, irritably, and he’s still the same. His attention felt like being covered over with a thick blanket on a summer’s day. It was too much; it had always been too much.

‘Here are your room keys,’ the coordinator said, holding out a fob to each couple. ‘Don’t hesitate to call down if you need anything. There are area information packs in the rooms.’ Johnny chuckled again.

‘I don’t think we need any information about the area,’ he laughed, still staring at Leigha; he hadn’t looked away since the minute she’d walked into the room. Poor little Iona looked dejected.

‘Why don’t we get settled in and… catch up properly later?’ Leigha suggested.

‘At dinner,’ Johnny said.

‘At dinner,’ Leigha agreed.

Abruptly Johnny seemed to notice that Iona was hanging off of his jacket sleeve. He curled his large hand around her small one and held her arm close to his torso.

‘See you later then,’ he said, gruffly, before leading Iona towards the lift. Leigha couldn’t help but overhear the furious whispering that exploded from the girl’s mouth the minute they were half the room away.

Suddenly feeling a little sheepish, Leigha turned to Roddy, who was standing quietly, smiling faintly, as implacable as ever.

‘She looks quite like you,’ he said, nodding towards Iona’s retreating back, not realising he was stating the bleeding obvious.

As the lady behind the desk faffed with papers and with finding the key to her room, Harriet surreptitiously blotted her damp forehead with her sleeve. The back of her neck and her shoulder blades prickled, hyper-aware of the gaping doorway behind her. Hurry up, hurry up, she mentally urged the receptionist. I don’t want to be caught standing here. I need time to recoup. I need a shower.

The lady smiled, finally passing over the chrome key fob.

‘Room 5,’ she told her. ‘Mr Healy and Miss Elliott would like you all to meet down here at half past six before the wedding party dinner.’ There was a formal dinner? Harriet’s felt her bottom lip twist in annoyance; the receptionist gave a tinkling laugh. ‘None of you seem that keen about this dinner, I have to say!’ she teased.

Emboldened by the woman’s informality, Harriet pressed for more information, dropping her voice low to a conspiratorial undertone.

‘Has everyone else arrived then?’

‘All but one room,’ the woman told her.

‘Has everyone else brought… plus ones?’ She couldn’t bring herself to say the word ‘dates’.

‘Not everyone,’ the woman replied with a consoling smile. Harriet flushed, realising that the woman thought she was concerned that she might be the only one without someone with her.

‘Okay… thanks,’ she said hurriedly, backing away from the desk and grabbing for the handle to her wheelie bag.

Her heartbeat slowed back down to a sensible pace as the lift doors closed, sealing her off from any unexpected company. Dinner. Had she brought anything to wear to a dinner? She looked down at her uninspiring ensemble of jeans, cami and cardigan and scowled.

The glower was still on her face as the lift car arrived on the top floor; Harriet moved smartly out of the lift and down the corridor. But of course – because the universe was insurmountably cruel – suddenly, there was Adam, standing at the door to room 8, stuck paused in the act of slipping his key into his pocket. He was clean shaven; back during their time together he had usually sported a lazy fuzz of stubble. His bare cheeks and jaw made him look almost younger. It was a weird feeling.

His eyes were fixed on her in a manner just as intense. His gaze slipped from her mid-length hair and down the length of her body before returning to her face. His lips pressed flat together as if he was physically stopping himself from speaking, waiting for her to go first, to decide the tone they’d maintain over the course of the weekend. Feigned civility, Harriet reminded herself.

‘Hey,’ she said, because there wasn’t really anything else to say. She cringed inwardly at how pathetic she must look and sound. Adam straightened, finishing the slide of the key into his back pocket.

‘Hey,’ he echoed, and she wasn’t sure if he was mocking her or not.

‘Weird, huh?’ she offered, unsure if she meant that that their friends were finally getting married, being back on campus, being back near one another – or all of the above.

‘You’re about four years and ten months late, by the way,’ Adam told her, with a curious little smile, one at odds with his cold eyes. It took a second for the words to sink in; when they did, she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d had them prepared, or if he’d just done a little calendar maths on the fly.

‘Yeah.’ She drew out the word to better shorten the awkward pause that she knew would follow. ‘Sorry about that.’ She tried to smile winsomely but her jaw felt like it was pinned into place and ruined the effect. So she just looked at him, trying to convey her apology in her expression. The granite in Adam’s eyes didn’t shift.

‘I’m just going for a walk round the old place,’ he said. Was that an invitation? He moved away from his room door, towards her. Blood throbbed in Harriet’s temples, so hard that surely he could see her skin pulsing like a drum skin. His proximity put her body into violent fight or flight mode; the only person she’d ever consciously hurt, the only guy she’d ever loved. ‘See you at dinner,’ he said, moving smoothly past her and pressing the lift call button.

Trying to maintain her trembled dignity, Harriet barrelled down the corridor to the sanctuary that was room 5 before the lift had even made it up to the floor.

Adam’s shoulders hunched as he walked. Although it was a warm spring day, this side of campus was heavily wooded, and it was cool in the shade of the old trees.

He’d been misremembering her, he was shocked to realise. In actuality her eyes were darker, the bridge of her nose ever so slightly wider. He’d mentally lamented the fact that the girl was branded on his memory for years, only to find out he was wrong. He’d explicitly based his type on her, dating petite brunette after petite brunette, a long line of little Harriets that he could control and dump at will. But none of them, he realised now, had ever looked anything like her; none of them compared like he’d wanted them to.

He’d been eager to take the opportunity for a walk before dinner, a moment of quiet before the celebrations got underway. He thought that if he walked old paths and sat on benches where once she’d sat next to him, he’d know exactly what to say when faced with Harriet Shaw. But, typically, she’d surprised him, caught him on the back foot. She’d apologised; he hadn’t expected that. Straight off, smiling casually, like it wasn’t a big deal. So maybe it wasn’t a big deal; Adam straightened up a little.

He’d been expecting to see the mouse that he remembered from towards the end, the cringing, apologetic girl who allowed herself to be made a victim. But – although she’d been as rabbit-caught-in-headlights as he – in that corridor he’d seen a disturbing flash of the old Harriet, the girl who’d glare at him for playing stupid in seminars with those dark eyes, the friend who’d helped him be a better person. That was one old acquaintance that he had not been expecting to see at this wedding.

Miles wasn’t in his room so Adam backtracked to room 6. Nicky answered his knock, looking – if possible – even more whey-faced than she had earlier. She looked at him expectantly.

‘Which room is Harriet’s?’ Adam asked, without preamble. From the depths of the room he heard Miles guffaw. Nicky shot a look at him over her shoulder.

‘You’ll see her in less than half an hour,’ she told Adam, carefully.

‘I’ve already seen her,’ Adam said, impatiently. ‘And it’s because we’re all about to go to dinner that I want to talk to her now. Before dinner.’ Nicky looked sceptical.

‘Oh, Adam,’ she sighed. ‘Can’t you all just leave one another alone? One weekend, that’s all we’re asking of you. Be grownups, for one weekend.’

‘We knew we’d have to have this talk with the girls, but come on,’ Miles added, appearing behind his fiancée. Adam put his palms up in a gesture of surrender.

‘It’s not like that. I just want to clear some air.’

‘That air should have been cleared years ago, if it was going to be cleared at all.’ Miles’ voice was uncharacteristically stern. ‘Our wedding is not an opportunity for—’

‘It’s okay, Miles,’ a voice interrupted. Harriet was standing nervously at the door to the neighbouring room, clearly having heard everything. ‘Adam, come in. I hope you don’t mind if I keep on getting ready.’ She turned and disappeared back inside her room, leaving the door ajar as an invitation for him to follow. Adam shot the silent Nicky and Miles a look of triumph before doing so.

Harriet had seated herself at the vanity table and was using straightening irons on her hair, something he had never seen her do before; her hair had never been long enough when he’d known her. It underlined the relieving fact that this girl was more or less a stranger to him; she didn’t have the power to hurt him – or he her – they’d both given that up long ago.

He must have stood in silence for too long; Harriet squinted at him in the mirror. ‘You can sit down, you know. What’s up?’

Adam sat heavily on the end of the bed and rubbed the heel of his hand into his eye socket. ‘Look, I just wanted to say…’ he started. Harriet watched him implacably in the mirror. ‘You know, no hard feelings.’

‘No hard feelings?’ Harriet echoed, moving the straighteners smoothly down a section of dark hair.

‘You know,’ Adam said again. ‘I’m sure you’re going to have enough stress this weekend. I just wanted you to know that… I won’t add to it.’

Harriet turned the straighteners off and carefully placed them down on the table top before swinging her body around in the chair to face him.

‘Do you mean that?’ she asked. Her voice was small and queer, her eyes shining with something indefinite.

‘Yeah,’ Adam answered gruffly, clasping his hands and letting them dangle between his knee, forearms resting along his thighs. He was already regretting it. Being this near to her was making his gut churn like the aftermath of a bad curry. He wanted to touch her face, stroke his fingers down her long hair and see if it was soft and warm from the straightening. She was dangerous.

Maybe this was what he had really wanted from his line of surrogate-Harriets. The bad curry feeling. The impulse to reach out and touch so strong that it made his fingertips quiver and twitch. Maybe he’d been looking for that for the last half a decade, not just another girl to hurt, like he had once been hurt. Maybe he was the romantic that he always joked he was after all.

Harriet suddenly rose from her chair; Adam jolted back as if she’d lunged at him with a knife. Casually, as if she hadn’t seen his insane reaction, Harriet crossed the room and fetched a pair of high heeled shoes from her suitcase.

‘Thank you,’ she said, with her back to him, the shoes held tightly in her hands. ‘I really am… sorry, you know.’

‘You said.’

She turned around; her eyes searched his face. He wished he knew what for.

‘So. Adam Chadwick. Friends again?’ She shot him one of her rare gigawatt smiles; even now they could make his chest cavity feel like it was crumpling. Dangerous.

Adam stood, abruptly. The smile dropped off of Harriet’s face as quickly as it had appeared there.

‘For this weekend, anyway,’ he qualified unkindly, moving past her and to the door. ‘See you at dinner.’

They didn’t have time to get changed. Nicky and Miles had been waiting in the lobby; after the obligatory hugs of greeting Nicky had chivvied them up the stairs with a sweep of her hands, like they were farmyard animals she was shooing away: hurry up, the taxis will be here in a minute!

Luckily, Demi always looked good – another plus of having a gay boyfriend. Sukie herself was a little rumpled from the car ride but was wearing black so it didn’t show so badly. They barely had time to dump their overnight bags – Sukie dragging a hairbrush through her hair as she changed her shoes – before heading straight back out the door.

Before Sukie had a chance to pull it open, Demi caught her firm in his arms, spinning her to face him. He kissed her, greedily, crushing her against the wall, messing up her newly smoothed hair. It was like kissing a stranger; his kisses were normally unhurried and languid, smooth and thick as syrup but this one was wild and urgent. She didn’t have time for this. Sukie pushed him away from her, smiled provocatively to soften the action, slipped through the bedroom door and hurried towards the lifts.

At some point in the last few minutes, Leigha had arrived in the lobby. Sukie hadn’t seen her since before Christmas, and even then it had been a fleeting visit. She looked sleek and content, even if her collarbones did jut out a little prominently above the sweetheart neckline of her dove grey dress. The blond man beside her was a head or two taller than the average and built like a rugby player to boot, making Leigha look even more insubstantial in comparison.

Sukie made a beeline towards them and the two girls threw their arms around one another enthusiastically. Old friends are the best friends, Sukie thought, as they pulled back from one another. Leigha eyed Demi appraisingly; she didn’t know who he was and that obviously intrigued her. Sukie hadn’t told anyone about her dirty little secret, not even her bestest, oldest friend.

‘You must be the famous Leigha,’ Demi said smoothly, bending slightly to take Leigha’s elbow and kiss her lightly on both cheeks. ‘I’ve heard so much about you,’ he continued, with a cheeky little half-smile, as if he knew very well that Leigha had never heard so much as a whisper about him.

Motion in her peripheral vision distracted Sukie from Leigha’s response. Johnny and a slim brunette wearing a plum coloured lipstick that matched her dress exited the lift. The last time she saw Johnny – Sukie realised – he was still with Leigha. She remembered trying to be totally normal with him, although Leigha had casually confessed in a text the night before that she was just waiting for the right time to end things with him.

Johnny immediately stared at Demi, assessing this handsome stranger talking to his ex. His date hung off of his arm, looking around the lobby shyly, an embarrassingly obvious Leigha do-over, with the same glossy brown hair and cupid’s bow mouth. Nicky – sweet Nicky – rushed forward immediately to put the girl at ease. Miles followed, clasping forearms companionably with Johnny in greeting.

Leigha voice started to trail off, her attention diverted. Harriet, Sukie thought, turning quickly to look again at the lift, the doors of which were just opening to expel its passenger.

It was Adam; he blinked against the bright lights of the lobby, like an actor with the spotlight turned on him suddenly. He was wearing – by chance, Sukie assumed – a slim-fit tailored shirt in almost exactly the same soft grey as Leigha’s dress. He looked good, Sukie judged. He’d always been a boy too quick to smile and that had always rubbed her up the wrong way. Now his jaw seemed squarer, his face was firmer – a man’s face; the past five years suited him.

Johnny made a crowing noise and moved forward to greet his best friend. Adam kissed Johnny’s date on the cheek, like she was already well-known to him; they must still see one another a lot, Sukie reasoned. She was the only one rotting out in the suburbs, the only people to spend time with her ingrate teenage sisters, slipping in and out of Demi’s bed, being her own person for snatched minutes at a time.