The Best Thing I Never Had (28 page)

‘Christ!’ moaned Johnny. ‘I said I wanted to get trashed like it was 2006, not ‘party like its 1999’.’

‘I think this song is even older than 1999, actually,’ Leigha said. ‘That’s a point – do you even know this song, honey?’ She smirked at Iona, who visibly wilted, her hands fumbling nervously to pick up her wine glass. Johnny felt a weird little pang of sympathy for Iona mixed with a sick pride that Leigha cared enough to actively bother his current girlfriend.

‘I don’t
want
a boyfriend,’ Leigha had said to him, the last time he’d seen her. He’d borrowed his mother’s car and driven all the way down south; they were meant to be spending the weekend flat hunting. ‘I want to be able to have
lots
of boyfriends. I don’t want to live with you. I want to be on my own. You can never just
leave me alone
.’

‘I’m sorry, this song is just too amazing,’ said Demi, pulling Johnny back to the present, as he got to his feet and held his hand out for Sukie. Laughing she let him pull her up to standing and they both joined the motley crew trying to do the
Saturday Night
dance in the middle of the room; there were about four different variations going on and Johnny wasn’t sure that any one of them was the right one.

‘Harry.’

The voice was a man’s voice, rich and deep, but unfamiliar. Everyone in the table turned to look; it was a tall man in a good looking suit. A sweet looking red-head in a blue dress hovered uncomfortably at his elbow. Harriet was on her feet immediately.

‘Oh my god!’ she cried, clasping her hands together, genuine pleasure spreading across her face for the first time that weekend.

Leigha, on the other hand, had a very different expression. She looked almost as if she was dizzy, or was going to be sick. She laid her hand abruptly on Roddy’s forearm, as if this stranger was wont to attack her, and she would be in need of his protection.

The man held out his arms and Harriet gave him a warm, friendly hug. ‘This is Emily,’ he introduced the woman at his side.

‘Hi Emily, good to meet you!’ Harriet beamed warmly at her.

‘Leigha.’ The man had caught sight of the seated Leigha as Harriet had moved closer to his companion. ‘Hi! How are you?’

Johnny watched Leigha take a steadying breath through her nose; she released Roddy’s forearm and stood up to her full height, imperious and beautiful.

‘Seth,’ she said; her voice was strange. ‘What are you doing here?’

Adam quickly grasped who the interloper was; he studied Seth with interest, the person who Harriet tried so hard and failed to love the way everyone told her that she should. From the way they were talking to one another – warmly, only faintly awkwardly – there didn’t appear to be many hard feelings.

‘Well, Miles and I stayed in contact,’ Seth explained; of course, there would have been an overlap, a time when Miles was newly with Nicky and Harriet still with Seth. ‘And a couple of years ago, Em and I moved to Bristol so we’ve been nearby; we’ve met up a few times. Miles and Nicky came to
our
wedding.’ He smiled inclusively at the red-head by his side.

Leigha had gotten to her feet when Seth had addressed her, but hadn’t moved since. Adam looked at her curiously. He would have expected her to be right up in Seth’s face, flirting and laughing and tossing her head to make her hair bounce, the way she was with everyone.

And then Adam joined up some mental dots and realised what nobody else had. He looked at the stone-faced Leigha with a renewed interest.

Even though she had known him in his early twenties, Leigha realised that when she reminisced of Seth, which she did every so often, she was more likely to picture him at sixteen, seventeen, the age at which her feelings had first grown and calcified. Seeing him here – a man grown, with a dumpy wife on his arm – was so wrong, so jarring, so galling, that surely the very building was going to come down around them.

He looked like he should be a teacher, but she knew from the grapevine that he was actually a policeman, a rugged, manly sort of occupation that seemed at odds with the new softness of his face and his torso under his thin white dress shirt. Christ, Leigha thought, irritably; it’s meant to be the woman that puts on the weight after marriage.

If they had made it work between them, she thought – a little madly – he wouldn’t be playing PC Plod out in the West Country, running to seed. You missed a trick there, she mentally told Seth, as he and his ginger wife reminisced with Harriet about their own wedding day; you bloody missed a trick there.

Her thoughts spooled on: Of course, if it wasn’t for you falling for Harriet in Sixth Form, it probably
would
be you and me, because otherwise I wouldn’t always have had this feeling that it should have been. If it wasn’t for Harriet, lithe and smiley at sixteen, and the semi-indecent denim mini-skirts she used to wear, we would have eventually ended up together. Seth’s life would be unrecognisable. His life would be so much better. My life would be so much better.

She felt like her eyes could bore actual holes into the back of Harriet’s skull; it was a glare so heated that surely Harriet would feel it and turn around. But Harriet just continued making pleasant small talk. Leigha dragged her attention away, blinking; her eyes felt dry and gritty. Both Adam and Johnny were looking at her strangely. She felt her cheeks heat with a blush. She picked up her glass of wine, willing the movements of her hand to be smooth and steady.

Out on the dance floor, the previously jagged motions of the
Saturday Night
dance had transformed into the soft swirls of couples dancing slowly to a ballad; Leigha hadn’t even registered the track change.

‘I love this song,’ she announced, loudly, even though she didn’t. ‘Roddy, let’s dance.’

‘What would you do,’ Demi asked, as he twirled and dipped Sukie in time with the Michael Bublé track, ‘if we had a fight?’

‘A fight about what?’ Sukie asked, confused, pushing her newly loosened hair away from her eyes with her free hand.

‘This is a hypothetical question,’ Demi told her, mock-stern.

‘Still, I’m going to need a little bit more information than that!’ Sukie rolled her eyes.

‘If we had a fight,’ Demi repeated. ‘If we had a fight here.’

‘Why would we have a fight here?’ Sukie asked, confusion growing.

‘Because I think,’ Demi continued, ignoring her question, ‘that even you wouldn’t want to make a big scene at such a beautiful wedding. I reckon I’d get away with quite a bit.’

‘Quite a bit of what?’ Sukie puzzlement was turning rapidly into cold concern. Demi didn’t answer straight away, just dipped her again. ‘Demi, what are you talking about?’ Sukie pressed, as soon as she was back right-side-up.

‘I told Rob that there was someone else.’

Sukie’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. ‘Well, bearing in mind that you’re still living in his flat, he appears to have taken it quite well.’

‘He wants me gone by the time he gets back from his trip,’ Demi said, so damn nonchalantly. He went to dip her again but Sukie braced against it.

‘Where are you going to live?’ she asked him, appalled.

‘I have plenty of friends to let me sofa surf, but thank you for your concern!’ he laughed.

‘Why did you tell him?’ Sukie asked. ‘You know that we’re not
serious
.’

‘But I feel seriously about you,’ Demi insisted.

‘You’re gay!’

‘I told you the first time we met. And I keep telling you.’ Demi attempted to dip her again, and this time he was successful. ‘I’m not gay. I’m
bisexual
.’

‘I don’t believe there’s any such thing.’ It was an old, old argument, and one that was very strange to be having on the dance floor at the wedding of an old friend.

‘That doesn’t make it any less true,’ Demi said, softly. ‘I’ve been with men, and I’ve been with women, but now I just want to be with one woman.’

The track changed again, into the second power ballad of the night. Sukie allowed Demi to gather her up and press her tightly against him as they swayed to the music. Neither of them spoke. She digested his words.

Even if her father never found out about Demi’s colourful past, she couldn’t imagine him approving of a relationship between them. He wasn’t by nature a cruel man, but he was a stern one, and the weight of his potential disappointment just simply wasn’t survivable.

If her mother was still alive, it wouldn’t be such a problem; she had always been magical at softening her severe, traditional husband. But the hard cold fact was that her mother was dead, and her father was all she had left. She couldn’t risk alienating him for a fuck buddy – albeit a fuck buddy she could genuinely, seriously, truly see herself falling in love with, if she ever allowed herself to; but the pressure of her father’s phantom condemnation was as much of a wall between them as ever.

‘Your father,’ Demi said suddenly, almost as if he had eavesdropped on her thoughts. ‘You always give the impression that he doesn’t speak English.’

‘What?’ Sukie was still caught up in her thoughts, and the razor-sharpness that was missing her mother; she didn’t follow.

‘Your father,’ Demi repeated. ‘His English is fine.’

After a polite length of time, Seth and Emily took their leave from the conversation. Harriet turned her attention to her handbag as soon as they were gone, retrieving her phone from it and typing out a text message. She was wearing a large silver cuff-style bracelet, which had been catching Adam’s eye on and off all day as it fell down towards her elbow joint whenever she lifted that arm. As she finished her text she impatiently pushed the bracelet back to her wrist and slipped her mobile back into her little bag.

‘I’m going to get another drink,’ she announced to the table – only Johnny, Iona and Adam himself remained – ‘and a bottle of water. It’s getting hot in here, with all the dancing. Does anybody want anything from the bar?’ Johnny and Iona shook their heads, indicating their still quite full wine glasses. Adam stood.

‘I don’t know what I want,’ he lied. ‘I’ll come with you.’ Harriet didn’t seem to hesitate, or think it was odd, just smiled and got up and led the way across to the area where the drinks were being served.

‘Hey, can I tell you something?’ Adam murmured, as soon as they were away from Johnny and Iona’s earshot. That made her look hesitant; she fiddled with her bracelet as she nodded, slow and wary. ‘Has it ever occurred to you that there might have been something between Leigha and your ex?’ Adam’s face coloured as he reconsidered his words too late. ‘Seth I mean, not… not me,’ he clarified awkwardly.

Adam watched as realisation warred with denial on Harriet’s face. In an obvious attempt to stall for time, she gave the barman her order instead of answering. When the exchange was over and she had a new glass of white wine and a plastic bottle of water in hand she turned back to Adam, her expression still unsure.

‘Why do you ask?’

‘I was just picking up on some weirdness there, especially from her side.’ Adam scratched underneath his jaw as he tried to articulate what he’d noticed. ‘And I remember from back then, how you said she was randomly really batshit crazy, bringing up Seth, saying how you had treated him so badly and all that.’ He paused, needing her to connect those dots by herself. ‘You know?’ he finished, weakly.

‘No,’ Harriet said, slowly. ‘No,’ she said again, but she sounded like she was talking to herself, not him. ‘It was never like that,’ she insisted. ‘They were, you know, just mates.’

‘Me and you were just mates,’ Adam pointed out, quietly. Harriet chewed her bottom lip. It was an entirely un-Harriet like thing to do and it made Adam feel odd watching it.

‘I think I would have known,’ Harriet said, finally. ‘I mean I know… I knew both of them so well.’ They were nearing their table again now. Leigha and Roddy had returned from their impromptu turn on the dance floor. Leigha was staring into the dark depths of her glass of red wine, not interacting with anyone.

‘It was just a thought,’ Adam said, as they approached earshot. ‘Leigha’s probably just drunk.’ Harriet shot him a censoring look. ‘What? She was verging on being an alcoholic at twenty, and from the looks of what she put back last night at dinner, and what she’s had tonight, she’s only gotten worse with age!’

Harriet playfully smacked the unopened plastic bottle of water against his arm. On reflex Adam caught it in his hand, giving it a tug and dragging Harriet – already a little unsteady in her heels thanks to the two glasses of champers and one of wine – closer to him. Leigha chose that moment to look up, her eyes narrowing as she caught the flirty exchange.

Iona had gently needled him for ten or twelve tracks before Johnny begrudgingly got to his feet and led her out onto the dance floor. Although it wasn’t a ballad that was playing, Iona wrapped her arms around his torso and pressed the side of her face into his chest, holding him tightly and swaying left and right, eyes closed, as if this was the best thing in the world.

Despite the gorgeous young thing in his arms, Johnny felt his attention literally dragged back to Leigha, like the two of them worked like magnets. She was on her own; ostensibly, Adam and Harriet were still sat at the table, but there was never going to be any friendly chit-chat from that quarter; Demi and Sukie had disappeared; Roddy was finally getting bored with being ignored by his date and had struck up a conversation with the table behind them, in particular an equally thick-necked rugger bugger’ type, the boyfriend of one of Nicky’s colleagues.

He only really registered that Iona had said something because he felt the vibration of her speech against his ribcage. He angled his head closer to better hear her.

‘Hmmm?’

‘I said I wish you wouldn’t keep looking at her.’ It was no wonder he hadn’t heard her the first time; Iona’s voice was pitifully quiet, embarrassingly sad. For a brief moment he considered feigning ignorance, before deciding that she would probably find that even more insulting. He sighed.

‘I’m sorry, sweetheart. I don’t mean to. I just haven’t seen her for so long, you know?’

‘She’s not a nice person, you know.’

‘Sweetheart,’ Johnny repeated, plastering on what he hoped was a reassuring smile. ‘Nobody expects you to like your current partner’s ex!’ He remembered Miles putting forward that very same sentiment that morning, in his room. Was it really only that morning?

‘It’s not about that. It’s not that she’s your ex. God, I wish you had
more
exes, to be honest and not just her being the be all and end all.’ Iona shook her head slightly, as if curtailing herself before she went too far. Johnny pulled their torsos apart so he could look her in the face.

‘Look, I know you feel loyal to Harriet because of your sister,’ he said. ‘And, you know, having spent time with her again this weekend – yeah, okay, she’s a nice person – but you can’t hate Leigha for what happened years ago, because Harriet was the one that caused everything. Everything was just really complicated—’

‘No,’ Iona interrupted him. She sounded strong but still Johnny had to strain to hear her over the music, which they were still automatically dancing to. ‘She
made
everything complicated. She
makes
everything complicated. She ruined Adam and Harriet’s chance of being happy together. And now they’re both such sad people. Seeing them interact tonight, they’re sweet. They look good together. I think they could have really been something.’

Johnny remembered Adam, sitting in their lounge as the clock ticked past midnight and his 21
^st
birthday was officially over. He’d held a bottle of beer in one hand, the other was wrapped in First Aid Box gauze. His face had been matt and tacky; Johnny had suspected that there had been some tears before he’d arrived home.

‘I think we could have really
been something
,’ Adam had mumbled, pressing the mouth of the beer bottle to his lips before he’d even finished talking. ‘I really thought that we had
something
.’

‘She ruined your life, too,’ Iona continued, stubbornly. Johnny sighed.

‘No she didn’t.’

‘Yes she did. Because of her you gave up that internship. Harriet told me. So you changed your whole life to fit around her and she just dumped you anyway?’

‘Iona, stop it. So because of her my life was changed. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. That’s what people do to one another, come into their lives and shake things up. It would be a pretty boring world if that wasn’t the case. And besides.’ He pressed Iona close again. ‘Is it such a bad thing that my plans changed, and I came to live in London? Have the job I have now? If I hadn’t I would never have met you. And I like knowing you, you know; I really do.’

He was sincere, he realised, after the fact. He must have sounded so, too, because Iona quieted and settled against him again. They swayed wordlessly to the music for the remainder of the track.

After the cake had been cut and distributed and Adam had delivered a flawless – and only mildly risqué – Best Man speech, Miles took his chance, taking his new wife gently by the hand and leading her outside.

It was the first moment of their marriage they had been truly alone. Miles reached and took Nicky’s face in his hands, running the pads of his thumbs softly underneath her eyes, which – at close inspection – were still a little puffy from her earlier crying.

‘Miles…’ Nicky began, as if she was dying to tell him something. Whatever it was, Miles thought it could wait.

‘Pet.’ He shushed her by moving one of his thumbs to her lips. ‘Don’t worry about it. We’ll talk about it another time.’

‘Are you cross?’ Nicky’s voice was so timid that Miles had to swallow a laugh.

‘How could I be cross? You’ve married me, you’ve goddamn married me. I feel like I could never be cross again! But, of course, I’m sure I will be.’ Nicky immediately looked concerned. Miles smiled at her, angling her head down so he could kiss her on the forehead. ‘We’ll argue. About money and the kids and unfinished DIY and who’s turn it is to do the washing up.’ Nicky had slowly begun to smile too as he spoke.

‘We could always get a dishwasher,’ she said, thoughtfully. ‘That would negate that one, at least.’

‘Can’t negate everything though!’ Miles said. ‘I’m just going to have to be sometimes cross with you, Nicky Healy.’ Her new name was thrilling, like a secret. ‘I get to be “sometimes cross” with you for the rest of our lives.’

‘How romantic!’ Nicky laughed, putting her own hands up to lay them atop of Miles’ hands, still framing her face.

‘To be fair, the threshold for romance is a little high today.’ Miles pressed close, pressing their noses together, inhaling the familiar scent of her usual cosmetics. This woman was home to him. ‘Now, we probably have another five seconds before someone comes looking for us, or someone wants to take a photo. Kiss me like I’m going to take you to live on the French coast.’ Nicky laughed and did.

It was officially night time and the air was almost too cool on Sukie’s bare shoulders and arms as she stepped out into the openness of the north quad, trailing Demi behind her with a firm grip on his wrist like he was her errant child.

Over beneath the balustrade there was a couple mostly in the shadows, so much so they would have been anonymous were it not for the white glare of Nicky’s wedding dress. Sukie made an impatient noise in her throat, pulling Demi on, feeling lucky that she – unlike most of the guests – knew this place like the back of her hand and could mentally catalogue all the places where people could be alone. She walked with purpose through the darker shadow of the stone arches over the library door and into the library quad itself. As she had hoped, it was deserted.

Sukie fumbled with her bag for a moment, desperately needing to soften the moment with a cigarette, before remembering that she’d left her packet back in her room, due to the limited space inside her tiny, formal bag. Irritation levels rising, she dropped the bag in disgust, and it swung manically from its strap, banging against her side.

Demi had hung back from the moment she’d dropped his arm to open her bag. He leant back against the dark red brick of the wall, watching her.

‘Okay,’ Sukie said. She took a steadying breath through her nose. ‘Okay,’ she repeated. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘I think I was talking about how much I care about you,’ Demi answered, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. ‘How much I want to be with you.’

‘No, not that. About my dad.’

‘And how he speaks perfect English?’

‘Yes, that.’ The bite of annoyance in her tone was getting sharper and sharper with each exchange. Demi shrugged, a long, languorous movement.

‘I went to see him.’

‘You’re lying.’ Sukie’s jaw clenched so hard that her back molars ground together.

‘When you were having your hair cut last weekend. I knew you’d be out then so I went over.’

‘How did you know where I live?’ Demi shot her an impatient look.

‘That town is only so big. And it’s not exactly crawling with Japanese people. I just asked around.’

‘Oh God.’ Sukie took a moment to digest this information. ‘Are you actually serious?’ she asked, clinging to the faint hope this might be one of his weird jokes. Demi nodded his head. ‘Fucking hell.’ She exhaled. ‘He didn’t say anything to me.’

‘I know. I asked him not to,’ Demi explained; he finally had the grace to look a little awkward and apologetic.

‘And what exactly was the topic of this conversation you and my dad had, in such great English?’

‘You, obviously.’ Demi was starting to react to Sukie’s angry tone, his answers getting more and more sarcastic.

‘And what about me in particular?’

‘About if he cared that you’ve been graduated five years and you haven’t been given the opportunity to look for a job, so your CV looks like shit. How you have had to take on the mantle of a middle-aged mother of teenagers instead of moving out, living your own life. How lonely you are. How unfulfilled. I asked him if he knew that you write and upload stories and little scripts and stuff online…’ Sukie felt blood rush to her face.

‘How did
you
know?’ Demi smiled at her; she caught the pale flash of his teeth within the shadow as he did.

‘Googling you, love. You use that one email address for every account, so…’

‘Fuck.’

‘He didn’t know, though,’ Demi continued. ‘So I told him. And I told him they were damn good. You could be a writer, a proper writer. You should be
doing something
with all that spare time you have. Some sort of course, or internship.’

‘I know,’ Sukie tried, ‘but the girls need me at home—’

‘The girls?’ Demi repeated her, interrupting. ‘Those “girls” are, like, sixteen years old!’

‘Seventeen and fifteen,’ Sukie corrected, mumbling. Demi rolled his eyes.

‘Whatever.’

‘I’m
happy
to help out,’ Sukie argued. Demi just looked at her, patiently.

‘No you’re not.’ His voice was gentle, matter of fact, not accusatory or exasperated. ‘Not
happy
to.’

‘And how exactly did you introduce yourself to my dad?’ Sukie drew herself up to full fighting height, eyes flashing. ‘A concerned bystander? Or, “hi, I’m the guy that’s been fucking your daughter”?’ Demi winced at the phrasing; Sukie barrelled on, strengthened by it. ‘Because if you say that he took
that
well, I’ll
know
that you’re lying.’