The Night That Changed Everything (37 page)

‘You OK?' she asks.

‘Yeah,' I reply, feigning tiredness even though I'm wide awake. ‘You?'

‘Mmmm.'

We remain still for a while longer, until Rebecca's stomach rumbles.

‘Hungry?' I ask.

‘Starving,' she says.

‘Me too. I'll get up and make us breakfast, shall I?'

‘Good luck with that.'

‘You'd be amazed what I can muster up with very few ingredients.'

I jump out of bed but two minutes later I'm back.

‘OK, I'm good but I'm not a magician.'

Rebecca has covered herself with the duvet now, but remains on her side of the bed. I look at the empty space I've left and decide against filling it for fear of giving her the wrong impression.

‘Shall we go out for breakfast?' I suggest, not adding that we need to talk. ‘Frank's?'

‘But that's yours and Jamie's place.'

‘I don't mind if you don't?'

A few seconds later she whips off the duvet. ‘Frank's it is.'

Frank does a double-take when we walk in.

‘Ben!'

He opens his arms like he's going to hug me but instead just pats me on the back. Because I'm with a girl he immediately leads us to his ‘best' table – the only one with a view of the street outside.

‘I was so sorry to hear about young Jamie,' he says, slinging a tea towel over his shoulder and lowering his head. ‘He was a special soul.'

I straighten the knife and fork wrapped in a napkin on the table, not wanting to get emotional.

‘He was,' I hear Rebecca say.

I look at her gratefully and compose myself with a deep breath. ‘Frank, this is Rebecca.'

He offers a hand for her to shake then folds his arms and smiles admiringly. ‘Both of them used to talk about you a lot,' he tells her. ‘And now I see why.'

‘What did they used to say?' quizzes Rebecca.

Frank shrugs and winks at me, then pulls the menus from the rack on the table and passes them to us.

‘I'll have a full English, please, Frank,' Rebecca looks up to say. ‘And a black coffee.'

‘I'll have the same, please, but with a pot of tea,' I add.

‘Excellent choice,' Frank says.

Once he's gone I watch Rebecca stare at the salt pot.

‘Penny for your thoughts,' I say.

‘Jesus, Ben – you'd literally sponsor anything. Also – a penny? That's a lot of thoughts I'm going to have to share before I can afford breakfast.'

‘Actually,' I say, ‘that phrase has been around since the sixteenth century, when a penny was worth loads of money. I guess now it would be
A million quid for your thoughts
or something.'

‘Now we're talking.'

Frank comes back with our plates, piled high. We begin eating in silence. I steal a glance at Rebecca and catch her doing the same, making us both laugh nervously.

‘About last night,' I say, at the same time she says: ‘Can we talk?'

‘Sorry,' I tell her. ‘You go first.'

‘No – you go.'

I want to insist she speaks first but it wouldn't be fair. What if she's about to ask if I want to try again?

‘About last night,' I repeat. ‘Thank you for asking me to stay. Talking about Jamie really helped, and it was lovely falling asleep next to you, but—'

‘Ben,' she stops me, taking my hands in hers – something she would never have done when we were going out. ‘You don't need to do this.'

‘Do what?'

‘I don't want us to get back together either. I know we're not right for each other. We used to be but . . .'

‘. . . we're not now,' I say, almost laughing with relief.

‘I know it's only been four months or something, but so much has happened and so much has changed and . . . It feels like we're different people, somehow.'

‘Totally.'

‘I still love your company,' she says. ‘And whoever you eventually end up with will be the luckiest woman in the whole world . . .'

The relief stuns me. It's because I care for her so much, and I want her to be a part of my life, and I was worried all these words would make it impossible.

‘And you're still the most beautiful girl I know,' I say. ‘And you will always make me laugh.'

The moment ends when Rebecca spots Frank watching us from the counter like we're a soap opera. She drops my hands and picks up her fork.

‘I'll transfer your deposit and half the cost of the furniture this week,' she says, dipping her sausage into the middle of the fried egg. ‘Sorry it's taken so long. It just felt a bit . . . final, you know?'

‘That would be great. Ta, Becs.'

I take a slice of toast from the toast rack and begin to mop up the sauce from my beans.

‘All the things we said when you came round . . .' she says, turning self-consciously as the cafe door opens, then returning her attention to me. ‘I know I wasn't the easiest person to be with.'

‘It was one of the best times of my life, Becs. I don't regret a single day we spent together.'

‘Me neither.' She smiles as she lays her cutlery on her empty plate. ‘So what's next for you?'

I accept defeat against my own breakfast and shrug.

‘I'm sorry for all the times you had to listen to me moan about work,' I say.

‘That's OK,' she says, twisting the salt cellar with her hand but still looking at me. ‘I don't know, maybe you should go away somewhere for the day, out of London, wherever it may be, and you can't come back until you've decided.'

Frank must sense that we're in the middle of something because he says nothing as he collects the plates, though he acknowledges my leftovers with a scowl.

‘Maybe,' I tell her. ‘So you gonna buy somewhere, or get someone else in the flat, or . . . ?'

‘I'm not sure I could live with anyone else,' she says. ‘I've realized I really like living alone. Though I hated it after you left.'

‘Really?' I can't hide my shock. ‘I always thought you took to single life like a duck to water?'

‘A duck to whisky, perhaps.'

I chuckle, deciding against asking her to elaborate.

Frank brings the bill and Rebecca and I both reach into the pockets of our coats on the backs of our chairs.

‘I'll get this,' she says. ‘Call it a thank-you for answering my distress call last night.'

‘No, no – let me,' I insist, dropping some cash on to the saucer. ‘Think of it as a fiver for your thoughts.'

Something flashes across her face.

‘What?' I ask.

She surveys the room. ‘Wasn't it here that Jamie gave you the napkin?'

‘That table over there,' I say, pointing.

Rebecca's eyes widen like she wants to know more. It would have been unimaginable for us to talk about any of this a few months ago, but now . . .

‘You should have heard him when he handed it over,' I oblige. ‘He as good as threatened to break my legs if I hurt you.'

Rebecca stares into her coffee cup after finishing it off.

‘Then I realized that was just Jamie – a loyal friend to the last.'

She smiles gently. ‘Yep, the loyalist.'

Rebecca looks lost in her own thoughts again, and I'm about to ask her what she's thinking, press her to open up like I might have done if we were still going out, but it dawns on me that it's not the kind of question I get to ask any more.

New Year's Eve

Jamie is slicing an orange and chatting to a brunette in a white jumpsuit when I arrive at just gone midnight. He spots me as I approach the bar and waves, and when the girl turns to look I realize it's Tidy Tania.

‘Hey, you,' says Jamie, coming over.

‘Hey, yourself.' I hop up on to the bar stool.

‘Second time today – it's like you can't stay away from me.'

‘Actually, it's a different day. In fact, I haven't seen you all year. Happy New Year!'

‘Back atcha!' he says with a laugh, leaning across the bar to kiss me. ‘What are you doing here?'

‘I'm only here for the whisky.' The taxi ride sobered me up slightly – I don't feel quite as pissed as I did when I left Sally. ‘Large, please.' I look around the room again then ask: ‘Where's Ben?'

‘You just missed him,' Jamie tells me, his back to me as he pours my drink.

Oh.

Jamie gives me my glass and looks like he's going to say something else, but a group of lads approach the bar.

‘Shut up, mate, you're 'aving one,' the first one says to one of his mates. Then he yells at Jamie: ‘Eight sambucas, please.'

‘Sorry,' Jamie tells me, leaving to serve them.

As soon as he's done, two girls order six cocktails and by the time they're carrying the drinks back to their friends, the boys are ready for another round of sambucas.

I can't believe I just missed Ben. And not just because I wouldn't be sat here by myself for twenty minutes while Jamie serves, but because the whole way here I've been working myself up to talking to him, to seeing if there is anything salvageable between us.

‘Fancy a dance?' Jamie asks when the rush dies down.

‘Nah, not in the mood.'

He's just poured us both a drink when the band announce there's one song left, then break into ‘Dancing in the Street' and everybody who isn't already dancing jumps up.

‘C'mon, Jamie,' yells Tidy Tania. ‘Dance with me.'

How forward can you get? I turn away, embarrassed for her, until I realize Jamie has gone, and a few seconds later he's bouncing up and down in the crowd.

I think again about the things Sally and Tommy said earlier, about me being afraid to let people in. Tania doesn't let the fear of rejection or the threat of getting hurt stop her doing what she wants. Neither does Danielle, or Jemma. Why do I care so much?

Maybe I should work on that.

I mean, I haven't had sex since Ben and I split up. I'm single now – maybe I should be playing the field. Meet people like Jamie, flirt with them and get laid.

Not actually with Jamie, obviously.

Could I?

No, of course not.

Or could I?

No.

Or . . . ?

I look around at my options. I could do worse. Like the guy who was made to drink sambuca against his will, who's now dancing on a table with his shirt undone. But can two friends have meaningless sex and still be friends after?

Ben and Danielle managed it, I remind myself bitterly.

Still, it's a ridiculous thought. He'd never do that to Ben.

‘Same again?' asks Jamie as he takes his place back behind the bar. As soon as the clapping for the band dies out, Chas 'n' Dave blare from the speakers.

‘No, make me a cocktail,' I tell him, lowering my chin and peering at him through my lashes the way Tidy Tania was doing when I came in. ‘Surprise me.'

No harm in practising on him.

He looks confused, but pulls the whisky down and grabs a lemon from the bowl. A few minutes later he hands me a pale orange drink garnished with a cherry.

‘Whisky Sour for the lady.'

‘I love it,' I gush, as I sip the tangy liquid. He knows me so well.

At one a.m., Jamie calls last orders and I know, even before it comes on, that the next song will be a slowy. Sure enough it's ‘Stand By Me', and Jamie sings along as he starts to clear up.

‘I know your game,' I tell Jamie, getting up to help him collect glasses as the crowds start to disperse, still singing along.

‘What game's that?'

‘The music. I've worked it out. It goes all slow and romantic after last orders. That's when you seduce whatever girl you've lined up for after-hours fun.'

Jamie laughs, then stops abruptly.

‘Rebecca, careful – you can't . . .' I drop the glasses on the floor with a terrific smash. ‘. . . stack a hurricane glass in a Martini glass.'

‘Sorry, sorry, sorry.' I bend down and start to pick up chunks of glass. ‘Ouch.'

‘Are you OK?' He rushes over and takes my hand.

‘It's a tiny cut,' I reassure him, sucking my bleeding finger.

‘Sit down – I'll get you a plaster.'

Just then, Tania approaches, smiling at Jamie.

‘So, my friends want to grab a taxi now,' she says. ‘I guess I'll see you soon?' She doesn't look like she wants to go anywhere. I feel bad. Does Jamie still like Tania? Maybe I should leave them to it.

‘Yep, see you soon, Tania.'

Maybe he's over her – he just gives her a quick peck on the cheek then disappears out back, missing the devastated look on her face. Tania and her friends are the last people to leave so when Jamie returns with a plaster and a glass of water, it's just the two of us.

‘The reason I always do that with the music,' he explains, as he gently wraps the plaster around my finger, ‘is to chill out the remaining customers so they feel like going home. Less chance of stragglers angling for a lock-in.'

‘Is that a hint for me to do one?' I enquire.

‘Not at all. Like I'd ever want rid of you.' He squeezes my hand before he drops it.

I sip my cocktail to hide my smile, but somehow manage to spill half of it down my chin. Luckily Jamie misses it, already crouching to sweep up the glass.

Once the bar is cleared Jamie calls a taxi, and I rest my head in the crook of my elbow on the bar. I must doze off because suddenly there's a beep outside.

I'm not sure how I end up snuggled into his chest with his arm around me, but my heart starts beating faster when I become aware of how we're sitting in the back seat.

I'm wondering whether to invite him in for a drink as we pull up at mine but Jamie saves me the bother. He simply gets out, pays the driver, then holds out his hand for me.