You Had Me at Hello (42 page)

‘Jake and I aren't seeing each other any more,' Mindy says.

‘Whoever the next one is, then,' Caroline says.

‘It's not a revolving door!' Mindy says, and Ivor looks slightly brighter.

‘Sorry to hear that,' I say, to Mindy. ‘About Jake, not the door.'

‘OK. Jake or no Jake, if Mindy has overreacted to one indiscretion, there have been years of provocation,' Caroline says.

‘I hardly think a few wind-ups are the same as branding me an abuser, do you?'

‘I think you both need to say sorry and you both need to hear it. You can say it at the same time, if no one wants to go first. I'll count you in.'

‘This isn't a crèche,' Ivor says to Caroline. ‘What if we don't agree, no Stickle Bricks and milk?'

‘I'm not going to change my opinion because of what you force him to say,' Mindy says. ‘This
is
pointless.'

‘At least you agree on something!' I say, optimistically.

I look in desperation towards Caroline.

‘OK, you force me to do this. I'm breaking the glass and grabbing the hammer,' Caroline says, sitting down and crossing her legs.

Mindy and I frown in confusion at each other.

‘I've got a theory, if anyone cares to hear it. Here's what I think is actually going on. Ivor has been in love with Mindy for years but won't do anything about it because of her ludicrous insistence on only considering men who look a certain way. Hence the ridicule about her dates.'

I look at Ivor, who's wearing the face of a man who's raced to the airport in time for the final boarding call and found he doesn't have his passport.

‘And I think Mindy's starting to realise she has similar feelings for Ivor. That's why she hates what he did with Katya so much.' Caroline turns to Mindy. ‘You're not disapproving, you're jealous.'

‘
What?
' Mindy says, who's the palest I've ever seen anyone with dark skin. ‘I am not!'

‘I'm making sense, aren't I? If we all think about this, we know it's true.' Caroline surveys the room, taking in three faces with open mouths. ‘You're mad, because you're mad about each other. Isn't that right, Rachel?'

‘Uh. I couldn't say. You make a convincing case …?'

‘You're a bunch of …' Ivor is on his feet, wild-eyed, spluttering for words. ‘Just fuck off! All of you!'

He charges out of the door.

‘That stopped short of a denial,' Caroline says, looking to Mindy.

She rounds on Caroline. ‘What the HELL
was that?!'

‘If neither of you were going to broach it, I thought I'd give it a helping hand. None of us are getting any younger here.'

‘You're totally, completely out of order.'

‘Am I?'

‘Yes!' Mindy screams, snatching up her coat.

‘You've never thought of Ivor that way?'

‘No!'

‘And you don't think Ivor likes you?'

‘No!'

‘Oh.'

‘Well done for making a very bad situation a thousand times worse! When the fuck do you think we'll ever want to be in the same room now?'

‘Don't go,' I say, weakly, as Mindy slams out the door. I hear her footsteps pounding on the steps beyond.

‘That went well, I think,' I say, joining a beleaguered Caroline on the couch. ‘Are you sure about what you said?'

Caroline bites her lip. ‘I was. Maybe I was wrong. I overstepped the mark, didn't I?'

‘If it wasn't true, it will be obscenely embarrassing to sort out.'

‘And if it was true, it will be even worse?' Caroline says.

‘Oh no, a diabolical third option. What if this is true of one of them and not the other? What then?'

Caroline puts a hand over her mouth. I groan and bury my head in the sofa, slap the cushions rhythmically. I re-emerge. ‘I'm going after Mindy. This is my fault, I had the herd and trap idea.'

‘I'd let her cool off, if I were you, but if you think it'll help …'

I gallop down the stairs and burst into the street. Thanks to Mindy's love of vivid colour, I spot her easily, an aubergine flag against red bricks some yards away. She's stopped still and I worry she's crying.
Shit.
I'm the one who owes a grovelling apology.

As I advance, I'm surprised to see Ivor's on the other side of her. This is good, surely? Unless they're saying dreadful, eviscerating, final sort of things to each other. Something in the position of their bodies tells me this isn't the case – it looks more like an intense tête-à-tête than the distance between two people squaring up. I watch them for a minute, unable to catch any drift or tone of their conversation. Mindy puts her arms up round Ivor's neck for a conciliatory hug and I nearly cheer.

They don't break apart.

I stare and stare in delighted disbelief until I realise I'm being a shameless voyeur and might ruin it if I'm spotted. Flying back through the flat door, I run into Caroline, who's pulling her jacket on.

‘Where are you going?' I ask, breathlessly.

‘You're right, best say sorry to them. That was unnecessarily sadistic. I'll say I'm unbalanced and mention Graeme and they'll feel bad enough to forgive me.'

‘All right,' I say, enjoying the moment very much. ‘If you can prise them apart downstairs, tell them you called it wrong.'

‘They're
fighting
?' Caroline asks, aghast.

I thought it wouldn't be like Ben not to say goodbye the second time around, but I also knew it might not be up to him. Then a call comes during work on a Friday. It's pay day for much of the city, and we're experiencing a snap of sunshine. By half past five, the pens outside the pubs that pass as al fresco seating areas will be heaving.

‘I was hoping we could meet for a quick chat,' Ben says, brusque in his awkwardness. ‘I don't want to take up too much of your Friday night. Meet at the town hall steps, after work?'

I get it, neutral territory – nothing that could look like socialising. When I arrive, I see there's a French market on in Albert Square and it's a cluster of yellow-and-white striped awnings, shadowing wheels of brie, floury-looking saucisson and wooden tubs of garlic and onions. And there's a not-very-Gallic, opportunistic ice-cream van, thronged with customers.

Ben's waiting, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his briefcase. He's in a dark suit and tan shoes, looking suitably apprehensive and, inconveniently for me, as someone who'll never get to see him again, magnificent. How does he manage to get incrementally
more
handsome as time passes? I want to swipe a Calippo from a passing child to rub on my pulse points and cool my blood down.

‘Hi,' I say. ‘
Sacre bleu!
'

‘Hello.
Merde.
Great planning on my part.'

We stand looking at each other in a friendly but useless manner. Conversation needed.

‘Nice brogues,' I say, pointing.
Slick like oil, Rachel
. ‘My dad says only bounders wear brown shoes for business.'
And a devastatingly brilliant recovery.

Luckily, Ben laughs.

‘Funny you say that. Keep an open mind: have you ever heard the term “Ponzi scheme”?' He pretends to flip the catches on his briefcase.

We laugh. Silence again.

‘Uhm. Obviously, you know what I want to talk about,' Ben says.

I nod, nervously. ‘In general.'

Across the square, an accordion starts up, accompanied by some throaty singing from a Bejams Edith Piaf.
Non, je ne regrette rien
… Je regrette plus da loads, actually.

‘Do you know St John's Gardens? Part two of Ben's Parks and Recreations tour.'

‘I think I do … lead the way.'

As we walk down Deansgate, Ben learns more than he could've ever wanted to about the subtleties of ‘intent to supply' and I pick up some opinions about cuts to legal aid.

‘This is beautiful,' I say, when we get to St John's, a verdant oasis tucked behind Castlefield Museum.

‘Isn't it. It used to be the site of a church, I think.'

It occurs to me Ben might've been walking in his lunch hours because he has a lot on his mind. St John's is mercifully near-deserted, it being happy hour. We take a seat on one of the circle of benches that ring the memorial cross. Ben puts his briefcase down.

‘I didn't see you leave the wedding …?'

‘No. I, uh, thought it best if I went quickly.'

‘I'm really sorry. I want to apologise, for both of us. Liv had no right to put you on the spot like that, and I should've told her first. You've ended up in the middle of something that's nothing to do with you and it's not fair. I can see that even if Liv can't right now.'

‘I'm sorry I dropped you in it when she asked me. She said you had told her.'

Ben looks stricken. ‘She never asked me directly so I never said anything. That was all. If I'd thought for a moment she would ask you, I'd have put her in the picture first and spared you both the slanging match.'

‘I understand why you didn't tell her about uni. It wasn't as if we went out with each other.'

Ben squirms some more. ‘That's what I said to myself, but it was lying by omission. If Liv was inviting some old friend round for dinner, I wouldn't want her to leave the carnal knowledge detail out. I wouldn't want her to pull a lawyer's “you didn't ask the right questions” on me, as her husband.'

I don't know how to answer this without making it sound like I'm knocking Olivia.

‘It was Simon who told her to ask me,' I offer, instead.

‘Yeah. We had another situation, a while back. Oh,' he rubs his face, wearily, ‘I was going to talk in non-specifics, but fuck it. Back in the day, when Liv and I were first engaged, Simon declared his undying love. To her, obviously.'

This news is in the category of surprise-but-not-a-shock. In all Simon's searching for proof of my Significant Other, deep down I recognised the symptoms. All signs pointed to Olivia, if I'd been looking.

‘He did?'

‘She told me straight away. Everything was sorted out and we stayed friends.'

‘That was who he meant by the married woman who went back to her husband?'

‘They weren't involved. What he said to you makes me worry what went on in his head. I suppose he had to change some details so you didn't twig, but still … When you told me that had been discussed on your date, I should've realised he was going to make trouble. I naïvely hoped he was clearing the decks.'

‘Right.'

‘Afterwards, Liv and I agreed total honesty had to be the policy between us. I broke a promise in not doing the same about you. Not that I'm suggesting it's a similar situation,' he adds, hurriedly. ‘But Simon took it upon himself to start insinuating he stopped dating you because he thought there was something going on between us. He blamed you for the story and I think he blamed me for putting you in touch, then taking your side. Stirring with Liv called to him on all kinds of levels.'

‘That's
so
…'

‘I know,' Ben says. ‘I don't want to upset you too much if I say I have my doubts about that date you had. I'm sure he was attracted to you anyway.'

I put a hand up. ‘Please, no bother. I honestly don't care that Simon wasn't interested in my sparkling personality. I wondered why he fished lots about you.'

‘Yeah. I suspect he was working out if you could be used to drive a wedge from the start.'

‘And he accused me of having ulterior motives!'

‘Quite. Bastard. It's not lost on me he wouldn't have had as much success if I'd not been so lazy. As for Liv, it's safe to say he doesn't have a chance whether I'm around or not.'

Ben looks like he didn't mean to say ‘or not', and ploughs on: ‘I've told Liv everything about us now, anyway, so …'

‘I thought I managed that?'

‘No, everything,' Ben says, quietly and firmly, turning to face me more fully. ‘My side. I know it wasn't the same for you and I stressed that to Liv. I don't think it made it much easier to hear.'

It wasn't the same for you
. There it is. The mistake I can never correct, the words I can't take back. Or the words I can't add.

I summon all the decency I possess, which takes five or six seconds. ‘I hope you two are OK. You don't have to say what you're going to say. I know that you have to cut me off, completely, and I understand.'

‘I appreciate you saying, that …' Ben pauses. ‘Liv's left.'

‘
What?
When?'

What I really want to ask is – left you?

‘Few days ago. We've been rowing over other things and she'd been threatening to go back to London.'

I struggle to catch up.
Olivia's gone
.
Does this change everything?

‘Liv's not settled in Manchester, says she doesn't want to bring kids up here. You know about our disagreement over the house thing. She put a transfer at work in motion, only told me it was for definite when she'd packed her bags.'

‘I'm sorry.' I'm not anything. I'm in freefall, wondering where I'll land.

‘I don't know how long it's going to take for me to find something down there. I can't simply transfer. I'm not as senior as she is.'

Not left Ben?
Left the north.

‘You're going too?'

‘Yes.'

‘You're OK with going? You've talked about it?'

Ben gives me a thin smile. ‘Sometimes you have to put what's right to one side and do what's necessary. She isn't coming back, no matter what I say, which means I can't stay.'

I notice there's no mention of the Didsbury house. I guess in obscenely loaded world, selling one isn't a prerequisite for buying another.