What Might Have Been (8 page)

PART TWO

NOW . . .

13

E
van?’ Sarah breathed his name as if it was the answer to a
question
she wasn’t sure she’d got right. ‘Fuck me!’

‘I was going to suggest a coffee, but if that’s what you’d . . .’ Evan stopped talking abruptly. Judging by her expression, Sarah evidently hadn’t found his attempt at humour funny. His heart was pounding so loudly he was sure she’d be able to hear it, and not knowing what else to do, he leaned in to plant a kiss on her cheek, revelling in the soft feel of her skin, her scent provoking a euphoric crackling through his senses like the first hit of a relapsed addict.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘Well, I needed some milk, and . . .’

‘Not here in Waitrose, Evan. In
London
.’

Sarah hadn’t returned the kiss, though he took some comfort from the fact that she hadn’t pulled away or, as he’d originally feared, slapped him, but as she reached up to touch the place where his lips had just been, as if unable to believe what had just happened, Evan couldn’t help notice the huge diamond on her engagement ring.

‘I’m, you know,
back
,’ he said, smiling broadly. The moment he’d seen her, he’d known with an absolute clarity that coming home was the right thing to do, and that Sarah was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Although given how the look on her face had changed so quickly from astonishment to what he hoped wasn’t anger, and the way she was gripping a bottle of Chardonnay rather menacingly by the neck, he wondered whether the rest of his life might not actually last that long.

‘But you didn’t think to let me know you were coming? And now, of all the times . . .’

There it was. The first reference to next Saturday’s wedding. ‘Well . . .’

‘Then again, why should I have expected you to?’ she interrupted. ‘After all, I had to find out from someone else that you were going.’

Immediately, Evan felt guilty, even though arguably he was the injured party, although he could appreciate why Sarah might not see things in the same way. ‘I thought you understood?’ he said, wincing as she almost threw the bottle of wine into her shopping trolley. ‘Opportunities like that don’t come round very often. And so when they do, you’ve just got to go with them . . .’ He stopped talking again, realising he could just as easily be referring to David’s
proposal
, and in his defence, she hadn’t told him before
accepting tha
t.

He shifted the shopping basket containing the bottle of Moët he’d been planning to doorstep her with later into his other hand, its cargo suddenly seeming a little inappropriate, and reached out to touch her arm, but before he could launch into the speech he’d rehearsed on the plane and say that, actually, he’d come back for
her
, Sarah’s eyes darted to somewhere over his shoulder.

‘Don’t,’ she warned, taking a half-step away from him. ‘I’m . . . David and I, we’re . . .’

As the words died in Sarah’s throat, Evan pulled his hand back hurriedly and wheeled round to see David striding along the aisle towards them, barking into his mobile phone. At least, he assumed it was David; Evan had only seen his photograph, yet he knew it had to be him. He’d met City boys before, and this one seemed like a prime example, his brisk manner matching his weekend attire – the impeccably laundered chinos and tucked-in, erect-collared rugby-shirt combination that seemed to be the City’s standard
off-dut
y uniform. Though given the animated way he was gesticulating as he talked, David didn’t look at all off-duty.

As Evan wondered whether it was too late to duck behind the stacked boxes of special-offer German lager piled high in the middle of the aisle, David caught sight of the two of them. Ending his call abruptly, he marched over to where they were standing and snaked a protective arm around Sarah’s shoulders.

‘Sweetheart?’

Evan smiled, despite himself. The endearment was phrased like a question, and while clearly directed at Sarah, David was looking him up and down, perhaps trying to work out what someone who so obviously
didn’t
own an iron was doing talking to his fiancée.

‘David,’ said Sarah, a little unnecessarily, and Evan wondered whether it was perhaps for his benefit. ‘You remember me mentioning my friend Evan?’

‘Evan? Of course,’ announced David, although not altogether convincingly. He removed his arm from Sarah’s shoulders and peered at Evan closely, as if studying his face for clues. ‘You’re the musician, aren’t you?’

Evan tried hard not to look surprised. ‘That’s right.’

David’s palm came suddenly towards his face, and Evan’s first thought was to duck, but it was only after David grabbed and shook the hand he’d raised to protect himself that he understood David was attempting some hip ‘down-with-the-kids’ handshake – though the gesture came across more like he’d just scored a goal at polo.

‘Lovely to meet you,’ said David, with what sounded like genuine warmth in his voice – at least compared to Sarah’s earlier
frostiness
.

‘And you.’

‘Sarah mentioned you’d been . . .’ David thought for a second, then gave a little shake of his head, as if it was too full of important banking-related stuff to have bothered storing any more than Evan’s basic details. ‘Overseas?’

‘That’s right.’ Evan smiled at David’s quaint turn of phrase, interested to hear he’d been a topic of conversation between the two of them – not that Sarah was saying much about anything at the moment. ‘I’ve just got back. From the U.S.’

‘The U.S.?’ David let out a short laugh. ‘No-one calls it “
America
” any more. Not even this one, and she’s from there.’ He put his arm back around Sarah and gave her a squeeze. ‘Why is that, do you suppose?’

Evan scratched his head thoughtfully. ‘It saves a syllable, I guess.’

‘It’s like “the U.K.” No-one says “Great Britain” any more either.’

‘Maybe because it’s not that great,’ suggested Sarah.

‘Was that why you left?’ David asked him.

‘Something like that,’ said Evan, then he corrected himself. ‘Actually, I’ve been away on tour.’

‘On tour?’

‘With The Police.’

‘The Police?’

‘For a year.’

‘For a
year
?’

As Evan wondered whether he was repeating everything on purpose, David nodded slowly, sticking his bottom lip out at the same time to indicate he was impressed. Then suddenly, he frowned. ‘I thought they’d split up?’

‘They had.’ Evan tried to make eye contact with Sarah, but failed. ‘They decided to get back together.’

‘Oh yes?’ David smirked. ‘For the money, I’ll bet. One last chance to top up the old pension funds.’

‘I’m sure they had lots of reasons.’

‘Several million of them, probably.’ David shook his head slowly. ‘When it comes down to it, people
always
do things for the money. What other reason is there?’

‘The love of something, perhaps?’ Evan suggested, conscious he was still staring at Sarah.

‘Really?’ said David, incredulously. ‘So, a year, eh? And are you back for good now?’

Evan shrugged. He didn’t know the answer to that yet. ‘That depends,’ he said, hoping David wouldn’t ask him on what, but fortunately Sarah chose that moment to finally stop studying whatever it was in her trolley that had been fascinating her.

‘When did you get back?’ she said.

‘What’s today?’

David consulted the expensive-looking chunk of metal on his wrist. ‘The twenty-third.’

‘No – what
day
is it?’

David checked his watch again. ‘Saturday.’

‘In that case, last night. Possibly. I’m still a bit jet-lagged, to tell the truth.’

David reached into Evan’s basket and tapped the bottle of
Moët: Sara
h’s favourite – or at least, Evan thought, it used to be. ‘Well, this should sort you out. Though I thought that Cristal stuff was what you musician-types drank.’

‘You’re talking rap.’

David’s eyes widened. ‘No need to be rude. I was only . . .’

‘No, rap music. I’m a jazz musician.’ He glanced at Sarah, who looked ready to make a run for it, as if worried his presence here might provoke some sort of showdown. And while that was actually what Evan was hoping for, he didn’t want it quite so soon. Not until he’d had a chance to explain, and to tell her what he hadn’t realised when he’d left – that he loved her. Then all he had to do was to convince her to dump David and marry him instead – and given that today
was
Saturday, he needed to achieve all that in less than a week.

‘So,’ said David, clapping Evan so heavily on the shoulder it nearly made him drop his basket. ‘You’ll be here for the wedding?’

‘The wedding?’ Evan thought for a moment, then nodded. He supposed he was. Though, of course, to stop it. ‘I guess.’

‘Excellent!’ David grinned. ‘In that case, what are you doing this evening?’

‘Well, nothing. I mean, um . . .’ He coughed awkwardly, suddenly worried David was going to invite him round for dinner, and unable to think of anything worse. While he’d wanted to see the two of them together to check whether Sarah was happy – after all, David was bound to be; look what he was getting – he hadn’t planned to head straight into the lion’s den. And even though he’d promised himself on the flight over that he’d back off if she was, he’d known the moment he’d seen her it was a promise he wouldn’t be able to keep. ‘Why?’

‘It’s my stag night. Soho House for cocktails and dinner, and then . . .’ He nudged Sarah, then winked at Evan. ‘Who knows? But you should come.’

Evan suddenly realised there
was
something worse than a cosy tête-à-tête with the two of them. But while it was an offer he hadn’t been prepared for, judging by the way the colour had drained so quickly from Sarah’s face, she certainly wasn’t.

‘Thanks, David, but I’ll pass. I won’t really know anyone, and . . .’

‘You’ll know me.’ David folded his arms and regarded Evan levelly, almost challenging him to accept. ‘And you know the girl I’m marrying, of course. Not that she’s coming. No women allowed. Apart from the ones that charge by the hour, if you see what I mean?’

Evan stared at him, the idea of the kind of evening David
and his
City-boy friends were evidently planning repellent to him, but before he could come up with a better excuse, Sarah found her voice again.

‘David, Evan’s just got back. I’m sure he doesn’t want . . .’

David held up a finger to cut her off, and the gesture clearly annoyed her. ‘Eight o’clock?’ he said, more of a statement than a question. ‘Dress . . .’ He glanced at Evan’s worn leather jacket, no doubt seeing second-hand instead of vintage. ‘Well, it’s supposed to be formal dress, but like I said, as long as you’re not
wearing
a dress, you’ll be okay.’

Evan smiled politely at David’s joke. ‘I’m not sure it’s my kind of thing.’

‘Oh? Don’t worry. It’s on me.’

Evan felt himself start to bristle, but managed to bite his ton
gue – a
fter all, he reasoned, David probably reckoned he was doing him a favour. Besides, why should he feel too proud to take advantage of David’s hospitality? He was planning to take an awful lot more if he could. And even though it occurred to him that David out on his stag night meant the coast would be clear for him and Sarah to talk, maybe going tonight might provide some inside track on the wedding, or even help him understand David a little more, show him what he was up against. Besides, judging by Sarah’s reaction so far, he wasn’t sure she
wanted
to talk.

‘In that case, how can I refuse?’ he said, before tipping an imaginary cap. ‘Gawd bless yer, guv’nor.’

As Sarah stifled a smile – something Evan noted with more than a little relief – David looked at him strangely, either not getting the reference, or perhaps beginning to doubt the wisdom of his invitation. ‘Eight o’clock
sharp
, then,’ he said, emphasising the time by tapping the face of his watch. ‘You know where Soho House is, I take it?’

Evan swallowed the obvious answer – and a little bit more of his pride – and nodded. ‘I think I’ll be able to find it.’

‘Super.’

The three of them stood there awkwardly until, as if on some inaudible signal, David grabbed hold of Sarah with one hand, the trolley with the other, and began to steer them both towards the checkouts.

‘Well,’ he said. ‘See you later.’

‘Yeah. See you later,’ said Evan, and as Sarah mumbled her farewell, he hoped she’d realise his statement was directed at her too.

He watched them walk away, willing Sarah to turn round, telling himself that if she maybe just gave him the slightest of smiles, then there was some hope for them, a chance that his journey back across the Atlantic would have been worth it. But when they reached the end of the aisle, it was David who quickly glanced back at him.

And Evan couldn’t help wondering if that meant the exact opposite.