Trophy Life (9 page)

Georgie was already at the bar, while Lucy stood in her usual position at the side, chatting with Scott and Steven.

'Where’s Freddie?' Amy heard Lucy ask them and hated herself for caring so much about the answer. The two guys exchanged glances.

'Waiting for Fran,' Scott said ominously. They never said anything outwardly negative about Freddie’s girlfriend, but Amy always thought she could feel a definite coldness in their feelings towards her.  They definitely teased their friend about his tempestuous relationship.

'Fair enough,' Lucy said in an overly jolly way.

'Right, we’re off to find some mens!' Georgie declared happily putting her arm through Amy’s. 'Drink up Amy dear cos tonight we end your drought.'

Strangely enough the song
It’s Raining Men
actually started playing at that point. Laughing as Georgie shrieked her approval, Amy allowed herself to be led to the dancefloor. It was around an hour later, having danced and drunk in a fever of Christmas cheer, that Amy finally managed to escape for a break. Georgie had her face firmly glued to that of a guy she’d met by the bar and she motioned to Lucy, standing reliably on the side-lines that she was off to the loo.  She actually just wanted a moment of quiet.

Making her way through the crowd, Amy felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Freddie smiling at her sheepishly. He gave her a little wave and mouthed, 'Hi'.

She smiled back and mouthed 'Howdy'. In response he put his hands to his ears and feigned silent screaming before taking her hand and leading her to a quieter area where they found some seats.

Now able to hear one another, they collapsed onto an oversized sofa sighing with relief at both the chance to sit and at being able to hear once again.

'It’s crazy here tonight,' Amy said. 'Have you seen Georgie? I’m surprised she doesn’t need an oxygen tank, she’s practically been surgically attached to some guy.'

'I think I’ve just ended things with Fran.' 

Freddie’s words pulled Amy up short. Mouth still open in preparation for uttering a now forgotten next sentence, she stared at him silently. He looked back at her unflinchingly, meeting her gaze.

'And I think I did it because of you.'

'Oh,' she gasped, still unable to tear her eyes from him. 'Wow.' This last utterance was made in a particularly high squeak. Their eyes were glued to one another’s as if unable to move.

'I don’t know how you feel about me, I think you might feel something too, but I couldn’t be with her anymore knowing that I felt something for you. Oh shit, I don’t want to stop talking now in case when I finish you tell me I’m a dick and that you have no idea what I’m talking about.'

Amy couldn’t help but laugh, both at his words and in relief at the humour breaking the intensity of the moment. 'You are a bit of a dick,' she said teasingly, smiling at him briefly as she did so before shifting her eyes to her feet. 'But,' she continued, 'that doesn’t make you wrong.' She felt his hand under her chin pulling her face upwards. His own face came closer, bringing with it the warmth of his breath, the firm touch of his lips. He was kissing her, slowly, luxuriously. She felt the heat of it reach every part of her body.

They pulled apart and Freddie smiled at her. 'I can’t believe that just happened.'

'I know,' she said, her smile wide across her face. She couldn’t believe it either. She had spent so much time trying to rid herself of her feelings for him. To ignore it all. Both when she was with Will and when she found out about Freddie and Fran. It seemed like it wasn’t meant to be. And now she was so desperately happy to be in his arms. It was like coming home. 'Why now?' She asked, her forehead meeting his. She had to know.

'It’s felt like the timing’s always been wrong, you know? You were with Will then I was with Fran. I couldn’t believe it when you told me you’d broken up. I kept telling myself I was happy with Fran, but-' He trailed off. It was his turn to look down at his feet. When he looked back up again, his eyes were so intense, so deep, Amy felt she could dive into them. 'She wasn’t you Aims.'

He didn’t need to say anything more than this. They kissed again.

***

They were still in a tight, tangled embrace what felt like hours later when they heard a loud male voice shout, 'Finally!'

It was Scott, quickly joined by Lucy and then Steven who shook his head in wonder saying, 'I thought it was never going to happen.' He then proceeded to sit down right next to Amy, crushing her between himself and Freddie, giving Amy a big kiss on the cheek. Amy giggled and crumpled her face in feigned disgust.

They spent the rest of the night on the sofas, chatting and drinking and laughing. Georgie even surfaced after some time together with her beau for the evening, Jay, a third year geography student. Amy knew it was one of those nights she’d remember forever.

'So what happens now?' she asked Freddie outside the club as they said goodbye at the end of the night, their heads bent towards each other connected at the forehead, hands clasped together. They had both agreed that it was too soon for things to go any further. He had only just finished with Francesca. And there was no rush.

'I’m going home tomorrow,' he said. 'But can I come to London to see you in the holidays?'

She nodded and kissed him. 'Can’t wait.'

She felt like she was in a dream the rest of the night. The moment she and the girls got into their cab they all squealed and starting talking quickly and all at the same time.

'I knew it!' Lucy shrieked.

'How did it happen?' Georgie cried, needing a bit of catching up given she had been preoccupied at the earlier end of the night.

'This was meant to be. I just knew you two would get together eventually,' Lucy said happily. 

Like the great friends they were, they allowed her to tell them every detail of the night more than once and to project forwards, letting her consider various aspects of what would happen next. Was it too soon after Francesca? It would be awkward, that was for sure. And what if she and Freddie ended up living together next year? They agreed that probably wasn’t a good idea.

'Get a flat together after uni,' Lucy had mused sitting on the sofa clutching a cup of tea. To which they had all nodded in agreement.

It was 5am before any of them managed to sleep, incidentally with none of them making it to their beds, all passed out on the sofas in the living room. They had decided to watch
Dirty Dancing
at some point in the proceedings and evidently none of them made it to the final lifting dance scene.

Despite the slight crank in her neck from having ended up in a bad position, Amy awoke feeling optimistic and brimming with happiness. She knew that she and Freddie were beyond playing games. She wouldn’t have to wait for him to call or play a cat and mouse game of texting. Instead they could base their relationship on their friendship. It might be a bit difficult to make that jump. She and the girls had discussed it the night before. But they had so many good things there.

They had a shared sense of humour and interests. They already knew so much about each other and there was an unbreakable trust. Whatever the challenges, they would be well worth it considering the possible rewards.

At 10am, having just stepped out of a hot shower, she heard her phone vibrate with a text. She tried not to lunge at it, but it was hopeless. She was so excited she didn’t care that she might soak the phone.

'Off home will call when I get in xxx'

Her heart jumped and, wrapped in her towel, she sat on the less than glamorous venue of the toilet seat to admire the missive. On a cloud of happiness she floated back to her room and got ready. Nothing could destroy her mood.

She simply spent the day with her friends, confident in the knowledge that a fantastic phone call awaited her that evening. So, when eight o’clock then nine o’clock came and went without so much as a text, she tried not to fret.  After all, he had only just gotten home. He had his mum to chat to, his brother to catch up with. So what if he chose a later time?

Trying to distract herself with TV was fruitless. In the end she just moaned to her housemates, both of whom assured her that there would be a reasonable explanation.

Nothing happened that night. Instead she fell asleep with tears in her eyes, wondering if he had changed his mind. Maybe with time to think about it he had realised it was all a mistake.

Then, when she awoke to no messages still, a different thought occurred to her. Might something have happened to him? After all, he had undertaken a long journey. A car accident maybe?

Starting to panic, she texted him.

'U get home ok?'

Just ten minutes later, her phone buzzed with a reply, but her relief was short-lived.

'Yes sorry. Am home but something has come up. Will phone when I can'

Her mind raced. Was someone ill? His mum? What could have come up that prevented him from calling? Maybe she had been right last night and he regretted their kiss, but couldn’t think of how to say it.

All of these theories and more were bandied back and forth in the house that day between her and the girls, then over copious drinks that night and in the car on the way to London for the Christmas break the next day.

Amy found it amazing how she could have gone from such euphoria to such a mix of emotions so quickly as well as how many tangents her mind was capable of exploring. She had thought of every scenario ranging from a death in the family to his father coming back – unlikely as he hadn’t been seen in ten years – to him deciding that he didn’t like her after all. And every day that passed was torture, with the thoughts spin cycling around and around in her head.

At home with her family, it was all she wanted to talk about, but her mum, her dad and her sister didn’t know Freddie that well. They had only seen him once or twice. Julia listened dutifully, but even her sister’s remarkable patience had a limit.

It was a week before she finally heard from Freddie. She had been going out of her mind by this point. She couldn’t make sense of it at the time. Why would he suddenly cut off all contact? As a result she had barely slept and was eating everything she could lay her hands on. It was only when he finally phoned that the terrible facts came into focus.

Like her, Freddie had gone home that night high on the possibility of them, of Amy and Freddie as a couple. He planned to phone her as soon as he got up the next day and then again when he reached home.

But then he had overslept, only waking when the doorbell went. There he had found Francesca, her face streaming with tears.

When her phone rang in the evening, Amy was at dinner with her parents, enjoying her first taste of decent sushi since she’d come home. But she had been unable to taste it, to enjoy anything. She felt like life had simply gone on mute. On hold.

She was almost tempted not to answer. So angry was she with Freddie – she had been through a full gamut of emotions ranging from denial to confusion to anger and sadness – that she was ready to ignore him just to make him feel as powerless as she had felt. But she needed to know what had happened. She excused herself and went outside onto the busy street.

Immediately as she picked up, he spoke. She heard Freddie’s voice, but wasn’t sure she had heard the words correctly. 

'Amy.'

'Hi,' she breathed, all intention to give him the cold shoulder fading away as she heard him.

'I’m so sorry.'

Chapter 7

'So, how do we do this?' Amy asked, a touch too brightly. She couldn’t quite believe she was here. With Freddie. It was bizarre. They were sitting together, in a café on a rainy but nevertheless bustling Hampstead High Street, acting like virtual strangers over coffee. When she had walked in there had been a second of uncertainty. Do they kiss on the cheek? Shake hands? Hug like they had in Notting Hill? But he had taken control, kissing her on the cheek and leading her to a table by the counter, where they had each ordered a cappuccino.

Since having been elevated to organiser of the annual London Ladies' Dinner, Amy had been thrust into the world of the Society at full pelt. Andrea had made it very clear that this was a full time job and that she was expected there on a daily basis to 'rally the troops'.

After the meeting when she was appointed to the role, she had wanted to talk to Freddie, but instead Andrea had pulled her into a conference room where she had been immediately confronted with a round table of what turned out to be her very own committee.

Andrea had instructed each woman to introduce herself, watching over them as they did so. Olivia was first and still visibly annoyed at her demotion from group chair. Next were Binky Hijinx and Darcy Highgrave followed by a glamorous looking woman in her fifties reminiscent in her large eyes, long, coiffed mane and youthful complexion of actress, Jane Seymour. She identified herself as Dame Rochester and explained that she was a novelist. Finally there was Lady Fenella, who grumpily sat at the back like a naughty schoolgirl.   

Once Andrea had left, Amy had quickly gathered that most of the committee was purely there as window dressing. Dame Rochester seemed to have good intentions, but quickly confessed she was too busy to help.

'Sorry, my publisher just thought this would be a good thing for me to be able to say that I do.'

Meanwhile Binky and Darcy had spent most of the time focusing on their phones, only occasionally looking up to make ludicrous suggestions.

'We should definitely have the Rolling Stones this year. Ya?'

'What’s the name of that sushi chef in Kyoto? No, not the restaurant called Kyoto, the country.' This last comment made Amy promise herself to find out what exclusive private school Darcy had gone to and never allow a child of hers to attend.

Finally, Lady Fenella seemed to be completely unaware of what was happening. At one point she actually appeared to be asleep.

Only Olivia actively contributed to the discussion. Dominated it in fact. Something which Amy was more than happy for her to do given she hadn’t a clue what she was doing.

'I think the venue is obvious,' she had guffawed to the emphatic nods of Binky and Darcy.

'Where’s that?' Amy asked.

Olivia smiled patronisingly and shook her head as if in disbelief. 'Why, the Dorchester of course,' she simpered. 'Where else would it be? Oh, of course, you’ve probably never even been to a charity dinner.' She said this in the same sympathetic way she might have lamented the fact that a Victorian orphan had never had a three course meal.

Amy wrote this down on one of the pads of paper she had found in the conference room. Olivia had then proceeded to reel off a whole rote of requirements, from the band to the food and beyond. Amy tried to keep up, but felt herself flagging. This was ludicrous. Surely Olivia should be organising this. She seemed to really want to. Why had Andrea insisted she do it?

Back at the café, she watched Freddie pulling out a large A4 folder. With a clear sense of purpose, he said, 'We need numbers to choose a venue. That’s our starting point. We can also look at colour schemes and menus and is there a theme?'

Amy’s face must have betrayed how little of an idea she had about any of those matters because Freddie laughed. 'How did you end up in charge of the London Ladies' Dinner?'

She tried to keep a straight face, but looking at his smile, her demeanour cracked in a reflection. 'My mother-in-law is Andrea. You met her at the meeting, and for some reason she thought I would be perfect for this.'

They looked at each other for a second, a silent dare. Then they both burst out laughing.

'Yes, you are exactly who I pictured organising an event like this. You who, if I recall, once invited me for dinner and started cooking a whole roast chicken only once I’d arrived? You made me sit at the table for almost two hours, checking on it every five minutes!' Freddie laughed, catching his breath. 'Don’t worry, we’ll sort it.'

'And what about you?' she parried, trying not to show how much she wanted to know the answer to this question. 'How are you in charge of the London Ladies' Dinner? Was this the job you were going for the other day?'

'So it was,' he replied, looking proud. He explained that after university, unsure about his career path, he had meandered from job to job before a friend got him a junior role in the kitchen of a hotel restaurant. He had worked his way up and found himself under the wing of an up and coming chef who had, after rave reviews for his London restaurant, decided to open a catering company of distinction.

'The interview was a formality really. We get on really well and he offered me the job of managing it for him.'

'That’s great,' she said, not having to fake her enthusiasm for him. 'You’ve really landed on your feet.'

'I had to,' he smiled wanly. 'I had responsibilities after all. There was Rupert to think about.'

There it was, like the first shot over the bow. The first mention of it. Of him. Because of course, it wasn’t an ‘it’ at all. It was a ‘him’. And ‘he’ had been there all along.

'Rupert,' she repeated. 'You had a boy. That’s great.' She directed every iota of effort she had left into maintaining her smile. She had tried to check him out on Facebook, searched for Freddie’s name in the hope an accompanying photo might give her a clue as to his current life, but had come up with a blank. The only profile with his name that seemed a possible match had been restricted so she couldn’t even see the photo, just a generic outline of a male figure.

'He really is,' Freddie beamed. 'He is just the most amazing person, the most amazing thing on the planet.' His expression was one Amy had never seen before. And even though they hadn’t seen each other in so many years, she had thought she had memorised each of his expressions. It was shocking to see a new one. It was filled with joy and pride and exhilaration. It was clear how much he loved his son. She couldn’t bear to hear about his perfect life though. Couldn’t bear to see how his eyes would sparkle when he talked about her. So she was relieved when he changed the subject.

'So what are you doing when you’re not organising social events?' he asked. There was a look of anticipation, a light in his eyes.

'Well, I got married a couple of years ago,' she said, her left hand waving once more as if her ring was a vital illustration. 'His name is Harry and he’s a lawyer. He’s on TV sometimes actually, you might have heard of him. They call him Sir-Split-A-Lot.' She said this last bit with the self-deprecation she always attributed to Harry’s public moniker, but still felt stupid. He must think she’s mad. Why would she mention her husband was on TV?

But Freddie didn’t show any sign of thinking her strange.

'That’s great,' he said. 'Yes, I think I’ve heard of him.' He seemed to be waiting for more. Keen not to disappoint, she continued.

'It’s all so busy, running the house and then there are Harry’s work events. It’s been a whirlwind,' she finished. A whirlwind? She had no idea where that came from, but she had needed to end that last sentence. Something final. She looked for his reaction. He just nodded. Was that disappointment in his eyes?

The silence between them was weighed down by questions left unasked.

'So, look,' he said, his voice was like a window slamming shut on a summer’s day. 'I’ll get some ideas to you. You try and get me numbers. We’ll go from there. And can I give you a bit of advice?'

'As much as you can throw my way please,' Amy said.

'There’s lots online about planning an event like this. Read up. I know this charity and it’s well worth raising as much money as possible.'

***

That night, as she sat in bed reading up on planning charity events on her iPad and Harry got ready and chattered at a pace, Amy couldn’t stop thinking about Freddie and their lunch. She knew she had disappointed him. But how? What right had he to be disappointed in her? And why did it matter so much? Then there were all the things that had gone unsaid. She tuned in to Harry, who was telling a story about an upcoming client trip.

'I was furious,' he was grumbling. 'Who flies business class these days? I’m almost a partner. People know my face. If they saw me in business class, what would they think?' The face in question was currently looking like a cross between a wounded puppy and an irritable old man. He stopped abruptly and seemed only then to register that Amy was in the room. 'You look a bit glum.' He sounded surprised, almost accusing.

Amy straightened and arranged her face into a serene smile. 'Not at all,' she said. 'You know I’ve been helping your mum with the dinner.'

Harry looked pleased. 'Excellent, excellent, yes mummy mentioned that. Excellent.' No matter how many times she heard him say it, she always had to repress a laugh whenever he referred to his mum as 'mummy'. He did it without a stitch of irony and it sounded ludicrous coming from the mouth of a grown man.

'I actually had a meeting about it today. Turns out an old friend runs the company that’s catering it. Freddie. We went to uni together. Actually we were close.' She waited to see if this elicited any kind of reaction. She had never really told Harry anything about her time at university. At times it almost felt like her life was split into two periods. BH and AH. Before Harry and After. But Harry was characteristically preoccupied.

'That’s nice,' he said distractedly, examining his face carefully in the mirror. 'It’s about time you started getting involved with all that. Get yourself established before kiddies come along.'

The nonchalance, the matter-of-factness with which he spoke of children pulled her up short and she wasn’t sure why. She had never given it much thought, but always assumed she would one day be a mother. They had just never spoken about it. She had no idea it was something he thought about. She considered asking him his thoughts on the matter but she needed more time to think it through herself. In any event, Harry seemed to have other things on his mind.

'Oh, by the way, I’ve invited Andrew and Graham for dinner Saturday night,' he said, naming the two colleagues with whom they met up most regularly as well as being Jill's and Claire’s respective husbands. 'I wanted to invite Greg, but with all this business with his divorce and everything I didn’t want any awkwardness.' Amy knew that adding Greg to the mix would also go against Harry’s natural aversion to odd numbers at dinner parties. It didn’t matter if the single odd one out was his own resurrected grandmother. At this point, he was carefully arranging his clothes for the next day. 'I think something like seabass.'

'This Saturday? That’s two days,' she said in horror without thinking. Normally, she tried to maintain a demeanour of calmness in front of Harry. It just made things easier. But this was ridiculous. The kinds of dinners thrown by associates and partners at the firm usually involved at least three courses, each planned meticulously. And Harry didn’t expect a takeaway either. This would involve some serious cooking. There were recipes to source, ingredients to buy, flowers to arrange and the house had to be spotless. Some of these dinner parties involved hand crafted gifts, individually created name plates with professional calligraphy. Hardly a thrown together kitchen supper. She felt herself starting to fume. He hadn’t even asked her, he’d just assumed she could drop everything.

'If anyone can do it, it’s you,' smiled Harry, walking over to her side of the bed, sitting down and lifting her chin so that their eyes met. She couldn’t help it, the gesture made her melt a bit. He looked down at her coaxingly. 'Remember that dinner you threw together at the last minute for the Winterbottoms? They still mention it every time we see them.' His warm, minty breath fell on her and, despite herself, her heart started racing.

Looking up at him, she relented. 'I just wish you’d given me more notice.'

'Get some help in, maybe a caterer,' he suggested nonchalantly, releasing her and turning back to his bedtime routine. He went into their en suite bathroom where she heard him open the drawer to get his dental floss. 'And why don’t you invite Lucy? And I
will
invite Greg.'

Even though this meant two more to add to the table, she was relieved at the idea of having Lucy there for moral support. She felt her anger subsiding and even started feeling bad for making such a fuss over one little dinner. 'That’ll be nice,' she admitted as she shut down her iPad before adding mischievously, 'Who knows, maybe they’ll hit it off.'

She could hear the sound of flossing stop abruptly. 'What? Greg and Lucy?' Harry asked.

Amy laughed as she turned onto her side, embarrassed at her bad joke. Curmudgeonly old Greg and young, lively Lucy were probably as likely a match as Victor Meldrew and Jordan.

'I can’t see that at all.' Harry continued, resuming his flossing with renewed vigor. Amy couldn't help but feel that he had completely missed the intended humour. 'You can talk utter rubbish sometimes.' Harry said as he entered the room, walked to the bed and pulled back his own covers with a determined
swoosh
.