You, Me and Him (6 page)

‘Dominique is looking for you, by the way, she’s in the bar,’ Christo mentioned.

Finn came to the door with me. ‘Can I walk you home?’

‘No, it’s not far.’

‘It’s no trouble.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Thanks for all your help. Are you warm enough? Take one of my coats or … here, take this.’

Christo stood back in amazement. ‘What have you done to him? He’s never this chivalrous.’

Finn was holding out his hooded top. ‘Thanks.’ It was cold. It had been one of those days when it started off bright and crisp in the morning, so I hadn’t bothered to wear a coat. He lifted the hood over my hair and brushed a wayward strand away from my eyes. ‘It suits you.’

*

My uncle’s house was cold. I wore Finn’s top in bed that night and the night after, until the smell of it became so familiar it was like having him lying next to me.

CHAPTER SIX

I start to run a bath.

Finn is reading George a bedtime story.

‘I’m bored, Dad,’ I hear him say, ‘can you tell me about the America circus again?’

Finn was five when his family moved to Connecticut. His father ran an IT consultancy and took the business to America.

Finn shuts the book. ‘Once a year a horse show would come to our neighbourhood. They put up this large circus-like tent and me and Uncle Ed would climb up onto these wooden boxes with the neighbourhood kids. It was a long way up, almost as high as the clouds. We wanted to reach the top so we could slide down the top of the tent. I don’t think it was safe but it was great fun.’

‘Like sliding off the roof of the house, Dad?’

‘Don’t get ideas, George. This one time, when I managed to reach the top, I started my descent and then my shoe got caught. It ripped the canvas and I fell through the hole.’

George laughs outrageously. ‘Did it hurt?’

‘Yes, I cut my face. Look at my scar, it’s still there.’

I can imagine George touching the scar like he always does.

‘I landed on a large pile of horse manure.’ Finn laughs. ‘My friend Mick …’

‘The skinhead!’ he shouts.

‘Calm down, George. Yes, the skinhead. Mick and Uncle Ed rescued me.’

‘When am I going to have a brother? If I’m good, can I have one for Christmas?’

I turn off the bath water and listen to Finn’s response.

‘I’m sure Santa will give you one, maybe not for Christmas …’

‘Why not then?’

‘Because that might be too soon to make one.’

‘Why? How long does it take?’

‘No more questions, George.’

Our son’s thoughts are scattered haphazardly in his mind like hundreds and thousands. That’s how I think of it anyhow. ‘How long?’

‘Wait and see.’

‘How do you make them?’

‘Time to switch off.’

‘Can I make the baby?’

‘No.’

‘I’d make a boy just like me!’

Finn needs rescuing so I open the door and walk along the narrow trail in George’s room that isn’t covered in Lego or soldiers or plastic bags with car-boot junk in them.

‘Lights out.’

‘My brain isn’t tired, Mum.’ I take hold of George’s restless legs and he pushes them against my hands. I call his legs ‘lucky legs’ because they are so thin they are lucky not to snap. They are smooth as marble and each toe is perfect. ‘Mum!’ He giggles, legs wriggling under his Thomas The Tank Engine duvet cover. ‘Stop it!’ Rocky looks put out as he finds another spot on the bed.

‘I want another story.’

‘No more. It’s a big day tomorrow.’

‘What’s happening tomorrow?’ Finn asks.

‘It’s his Nativity play.’

‘Oh, yes, of course.’

‘Tell Dad what you’re going to be.’

‘I’m a shepherd and I play the triangle,’ George says, trying to impress him.

‘And what exactly is happening when you hit the triangle?’ Finn asks.

‘The Kings are arriving. You’ll be watching, won’t you, Dad?’

‘I can’t promise, George, but I reckon you’ll be the best shepherd.’

He shifts position and holds on to Baby tightly. He has lots of toys under his pillow too, including his monkey Einstein which he refuses to move, however much I argue that it must be uncomfortable.

‘I want your eyelashes,’ I tell him, wrapping my arms around him in his warm flannelette pyjamas and smothering him in kisses. ‘You’re my best boy.’ I now know what Mum meant when she used to say to me, ‘I could eat you up.’ George
is
beautiful with his bushy brown hair the colour of a shiny conker, his father’s brown eyes, the light that falls on his cheekbones and those long dark eyelashes that curl perfectly like the shape of a half-moon.

‘I could eat you up.’

‘With tomato ketchup?’

‘Lots.’

‘And chips,’ Finn adds. He presses a pretend button on George’s head. ‘There, brain is switched off.’

‘Thank you.’

We shut the door quietly and walk into our bedroom. ‘Can’t we tell him?’

‘No. We’re going to wait three months, in case something goes wrong, like last time.’ I test the temperature of the bathwater.

‘I want to see his face when we tell him,’ Finn continues. ‘I think this could be the making of George. It’ll be a great distraction, not all of his attention will be on us, and more importantly not all the attention will be
on him
. I think a baby will bring us a sense of normality. Life can be too intense with George, you know what I mean?’ Finn’s words are rushed.

‘Yes, I do, sort of, but we’re not saying anything, not yet.’ I sit on the corner of the bath and start to undress. ‘If we do, I’ll have questions for the next eight months and it’ll drive me insane.’

Finn kisses me hard on the lips with a frustrated groan. ‘It’s just so tempting to say something. I want to tell Ed. Can I at least tell him?’

‘But he’ll tell your mum by mistake, he’s like that. He gets so enthusiastic about things.’

Finn starts to unbutton his shirt. ‘I hate keeping things from him.’

‘It won’t be for long. For now it’s between you and me … and Clarky.’ I throw all the clothes onto our double bed.

‘Clarky knows?’

‘Yes.’ I take a towel, wrapping it tightly around my bare body.

‘You told him before me?’ A darkness spreads across Finn’s face, that familiar flicker of distrust in his eyes.

‘The other night, when he was here.’ I open the mirrored cupboard, one hand keeping the towel in place. I start to hum as I get out some cotton wool.

‘You should have told me first.’

‘I wasn’t expecting to see him, he just turned up and I had to tell someone.’ I am cleansing my face with toner, anything not to face my husband while telling that lie.

‘You couldn’t wait until I got home, what, five minutes later?’

I stop what I’m doing, acknowledging defeat. He’s right. ‘I’m sorry Finn, I should have waited.’

‘I’m not going to let anything spoil this news, especially him.’ He sits on the edge of the bath.

‘I’m nervous, Finn, about having another child.’

‘Don’t be.’

‘I can’t do it all on my own.’

‘I’ll be here for you.’ His words sound flimsy.

‘After George …’

‘Can’t we just enjoy the news for a while? Let’s have the baby first. There’s every chance we’ll have a healthy child.’ He laughs coldly. I can tell he’s still thinking about me talking to Clarky first. The resentment is clear in his eyes.

‘What?’

‘It’s just you and him … I don’t get your relationship. How would you feel if I had a girlfriend I told everything to, before you?’

I’d hate it.

‘If you’d known her for years, I’d understand. I’d be
extremely
wary if it was somebody like, er, Alessia,’ I finish, trying to sound casual.

He throws his head back in a gesture that tells me I deserve some competition. ‘Alessia even has great tits, not that I’ve seen them,’ he says when I throw the flannel at him.

‘You and Clarky …’ he continues. ‘He was obsessed with you when we were at Cambridge. Those dramatic violin performances late into the night. He was trying to play me out of your life.’

I tie my hair back in a band.

‘Yet you didn’t even sleep together when you went travelling?’

‘No, we’ve been over this. It’s boring.’

‘A hotel room’s a lonely place,’ Finn probes. ‘Come on, six months and not one fling?’

‘No.’

‘Have you ever been in love with him?’

‘I thought I was in love with him when I was about twelve. He was the only one who stuck up for me when I had to wear my ugly head brace at school.’ I step into the water and Finn and his questions join me. I lie back, resting my head against his chest. ‘Tell me about your day?’

‘So you never loved him?’

‘No!’

He picks up a handful of water and soaks it into my hair. I shut my eyes, feeling the water trickle down my back. He takes the shampoo bottle and squeezes a little into the palm of his hand. I begin to relax.

‘One last question,’ he says, ‘and this is important.’

‘What?’

‘I hope he was pleased about the baby?’

‘Uh-huh. He thought it was great news.’ I make ripples of water with my fingers. ‘Are Alessia’s tits as good as mine?’

‘It’s a close contest.’

I turn and splash water into his face. He grabs my wrists to stop me. We’re both laughing. ‘Yours are better, OK! I have no eyes for anyone except my beautiful wife.’

‘Yuk. Quit while you’re ahead.’ I take his damp face in my wet hands and kiss him.

He pulls away quickly.

‘Finn!’ I implore. ‘What now?’

‘Hypothetically, let’s say you did sleep with him …’

‘OK.’

‘So you did?’ Finn jumps in.

‘No, you said hypothetically.’

‘Right. We weren’t married; we weren’t even going out. But the thing about Clarky is …’ Finn struggles for the right words. ‘I could cope with you sleeping with anyone but him. Does that make sense?’

‘Finn, you know I love you. You trust me, don’t you?’

He nods. ‘When Mum and Dad were going through their divorce, I remember my father saying it wasn’t so much what Mum had done, it was all those filthy lies. She made him feel so humiliated and worthless.’

‘I’d never, ever do that to you.’

‘I know. I’m sorry. It’s the last time I’ll ask you, but can we cut a deal?’

‘Go on.’

‘You promise to tell me any news about us
first
. Me, not him.’

*

Finn is fast asleep.

I’m panicking because I know I’m going to be tired tomorrow. It’s two o’clock in the morning, I have to be up by 6.30. I need to sleep.

Forget it. I get up and tiptoe downstairs. I sit and drink a cup of herbal tea, staring at the strawberry magnets on our fridge. Under one of them is the picture George drew of the tarantula he saw at London Zoo. He’d made Finn hold it. There are passport pictures of us all: George sticking his tongue out, Finn wearing his cap backwards.

A sleepy George walks into the kitchen, clutching his Harrods teddy bear that Uncle Ed gave him. He climbs onto the stool next to mine. ‘Why aren’t you in bed?’

‘Why aren’t you?’ he answers simply.

‘Good point, but you need your beauty sleep.’ I ruffle his hair.

‘So do you,’ he says with a giggle.

‘Another good point.’

‘My brain won’t let me sleep, Mum. I hate it when I can’t sleep. I hate the dark. I bet everyone in my class is asleep. Am I handicapped, Mum?’

‘Where did you hear that word?’

‘Jason said I was. What’s a spasmo?’ We had trouble with Jason last term. He bullies George but, ‘Stay away from him,’ is all the teachers suggest.

‘I’m stupid, aren’t I? I can never finish my homework.’

‘Now, you listen to me. There are things you can’t do as easily as others, but you are not stupid.’

George nods.

‘You’re special.’

‘I don’t want to be special. I want to be like everyone else.’

I take his hand and we walk back upstairs. I tuck him up in bed.

‘You promise to tell me if Jason says anything like that again?’ He nods.

‘You must never lie, George,’ I had once said when I knew he’d stolen a ten-pound note from my purse to buy some Lego.

‘Why?’ he’d asked so innocently.

‘Because lies hurt the ones you love. Makes it hard for them to trust you again.’

But this is the truth, I think as I kiss him goodnight. A single lie will multiply.

If only I had told the truth right from the beginning.

CHAPTER SEVEN

‘That’s not yours,’ Clarky noticed. He followed me, watching as I unchained my bicycle. I was about to meet up with Finn and Christo to distribute fliers all around Cambridge. It was raining and windy so I was wearing the hooded top Finn had given me. We hadn’t spoken about my returning it, it was tacitly understood by both of us that I’d keep it.

‘It’s Finn’s.’

‘He’s lending you his clothes now?’

‘Only this. Right, gotta go.’

‘You’d jump off a multi-storey building if he asked you to,’ Clarky said. ‘You’re mad.’

‘Madly in lust. It does strange things to you.’

*

Finn, Christo and I cycled all over Cambridge distributing hundreds of fliers. Cambridge was bike city; I can still hear the constant ticking of the bicycle wheel going over the cobbled streets.

We split up, the boys going into each college and pinning fliers to every possible noticeboard as well as taping them to the black iron railings that lined the streets. I went to book and clothes shops, cafés and bars, where I knew students hung out. I took some to the market stalls that sold Cambridge memorabilia, old records, books, and nightshirts that flapped in the wind.

In the evening Finn and I met up in a small café down one of the alleyways off Kings Parade. It was in the basement of a larger building with rainbow-coloured painted walls. My legs and bottom were aching from all the exercise.

‘I hope this isn’t a big waste of time,’ Finn said.

‘It’ll be fine.’

He was playing with a matchbox. ‘
Fine?
Who wants fine? What if no one turns up?’ He reached into his pocket for a crumpled pack of cigarettes. ‘You’ll be there, won’t you?’ He inhaled deeply, the action accentuating the hollows in his cheeks. Then he stubbed the cigarette out as quickly as he had lit up. It was the first time I’d seen him look vulnerable and it suited him almost as much as his confidence. ‘Didn’t want it anyway.’ His hands were shaking and this time I did put mine over his and held them there. ‘You’re going to be fantastic, and of course I’ll be there.’

‘I couldn’t have done this without you, Josie.’ Christo joined us then and we withdrew our hands immediately. It was like someone above was watching us. The moment we became close, we were warned away from each other.

*

It was Thursday morning, the day of Finn’s club opening. I pushed the bedcovers off me quickly, grabbed my towel and hoped I bagged the bathroom first. The door was closed. I turned the doorknob. ‘You nearly finished in there?’ I was jogging on the spot. It was cold standing in the corridor.

‘Hang on,’ said Clarky. The door opened. ‘What’s up with you?’

‘It’s a beautiful day.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘Right. Another day of stacking Christmas cards on shelves. Yippee. My father would be so proud.’ He put his thumbs up and walked past me.

Clarky’s parents, in particular his father, were furious that their son had wanted to take a ‘gap’ year. Their generation hadn’t had gap years; they got on with it. Before we’d come to Cambridge I’d told Clarky to stand up for himself, tell his dad that he wanted to go travelling, see more of the world than the Dorset Downs.

‘I told him,’ Clarky said, standing on my parents’ doorstep later that day, his hair dripping from the rain. I’d ushered him inside and into the warm kitchen.

‘What did he say?’

‘That he was disappointed in me.’

I’d slammed the mug against the table. ‘How dare he say that! I’m sorry, Clarky, I know he’s your dad but he’s such a fucking control freak. I am going over there right now to tell him what I think of him.’

I grabbed my coat from the back of the door and felt a hand fall on my shoulder. ‘Don’t. It won’t help.’

‘But you can’t let him get away with it.’

Both his hands on my shoulders now, he’d looked me straight in the eye. ‘I’m not. I’m going to Cambridge with you.’

Clarky and I had stayed up talking late into that night. We were outside on the terrace. It was a summer’s evening and the sky was clear and scattered with stars. ‘I’m going to miss this place,’ I’d said. ‘Nothing will ever be the same once we leave home, it’s the end of an era.’

‘I can’t wait for the next stage.’ Clarky smiled. ‘Dad said he hadn’t taught me music just so I could “arse” around Europe with you.’

‘Charming.’

‘I’ve never heard my father say the word “arse”.’ We both laughed then. ‘To us,’ Clarky said as we held up our shot glasses of neat vodka. ‘To you and me, our friendship, and last but not least, to
arsing around
.’

*

‘What are you doing tonight?’ he asked as I walked in my towelling dressing gown down the creaky corridor back to my bedroom.

‘It’s the first night of Finn’s club.’ I shut the bedroom door.

A few seconds later I grabbed a towel to cover myself. ‘Clarky! Knock before you barge in.’

‘I’ve seen you naked before.’ There was almost a smile on his face.

‘When we were about five in the paddling pool, that’s different.’

‘You’re spending a lot of time with Finn,’ he said, almost as an accusation. ‘I thought he had a girlfriend.’

He was dampening my mood. ‘Maybe he has, we’re not doing anything wrong. Just having fun, that’s all.’ I looked into his face and couldn’t help adding, ‘You should try it.’ I closed the door on him.

‘Believe me, I know how men think,’ he called.

I knew he was still waiting outside, brooding. ‘By the way,’ I opened the door just wide enough to pass him a large handful of leftover fliers, ‘can you circulate these round the museum? Tell people it starts tonight. Thanks.’

*

It was the end of the day and I had just finished laying out the tables for supper and was hanging up my apron at the back of the kitchen when I heard, ‘Josie!’ Oh, God, what hadn’t I done? I stepped out into the main part of the restaurant. ‘Yes, Momo?’

‘Come here,’ he instructed and I followed him to a table in the corner. ‘What do you see?’

I went straight to the coasters to make sure they weren’t upside down. Everything was in place. ‘I can’t see anything wrong, Momo.’

‘Nor can I.’ He patted my shoulder with one large hand. ‘Well done.’ He dug into his apron pocket and handed me my wages in a brown envelope. There was always a message written on the back of the envelope. The last had been, ‘Please tie your hair back so it doesn’t get into the soup.’ But this time it said, ‘Thank you, Josie, you’re a good worker.’

I cycled home high on his praise and full of anticipation for the night ahead.

*

I ran a bath and turned on some Madonna. Before getting dressed something made me walk into Clarky’s room. It was dark, the floral curtains still drawn. His music stand stood in the corner by the window and lots of sheets were scattered across the floor. The black violin case was on the bed, along with the old leather bag which held his music and books, now worn and frayed at the edges. I still loved its smell.

‘What are you doing?’

I turned round, my face caked with a mask that looked like a compost heap. I was dressed only in knickers and my black bra. ‘Clarky!’

He blinked.

‘What are you doing?’ I screeched.

‘What are
you
doing, more like?’

He was wearing a dark jacket, a white shirt underneath it and jeans that I hadn’t seen before, held up by a dark brown leather belt. He looked different.

‘Are you snooping?’

‘No, I thought I heard a bat. They like old houses.’

‘A bat? You’re crazy, J.’

I tried to cover myself, wrapping bare arms around me. ‘What are you doing all dressed up?’

‘I’m coming with you,’ he declared. ‘I want to meet Finn and see what all the fuss is about.’

*

Mikey was standing outside the door, taking the money. For the opening night he was wearing a red spotted tie and had cut his long hair. ‘Wow, Josie, you get in for free,’ he said when we reached the top of the queue. I was wearing a black sequined top with jeans and heels. ‘Your friend has to pay, though.’

‘Oh, Mikey,’ I said, hitting his arm. ‘Go on, let him in.’

‘All right then.’ He stamped the backs of our hands with the mirror-ball logo before we were pushed forward by impatient people standing in the queue behind us.

I spotted Finn behind his decks. He was wearing headphones, a grey T-shirt and jeans, and the blond streak that fell across his eyes had now been dyed a dark red. He had a twelve-inch in one hand, cigarette in the other. There must have been about eighty people squashed into the room. A girl approached him with a request.

‘I imagine that’s him?’ Clarky enquired, leaning closer to me. ‘I’m not sure about the hair. What’s this music?’

‘Don’t know,’ I answered distractedly.

‘Isn’t there a bar here?’

‘You have to go upstairs.’

Clarky looked around the dark space. It smelled of joints and sweat.

‘Who’s that guy in the mini-skirt?’ he whispered, followed by, ‘Why does that bloke have a shepherd’s crook? Weird!’ Before glancing sideways at the man next to us who looked like a forty-five-year-old trainspotter.

Women surrounded Finn. ‘You’ve got competition,’ Clarky murmured. A busty blonde started to jig in front of him. She was wearing large silver hoop earrings that bobbed up and down as she danced. She pulled him towards her. ‘Are you OK?’ he asked me over his shoulder.

‘You carry on,’ I told him.

I made my way over to Finn, pushing through the crowd. ‘Hi!’ I said, an octave too high. ‘How’s it going?’

‘Josie! Great!’ he shouted above the music. ‘I can’t believe it, so many people!’

‘I know! I told you it’d be great. Hi, Christo.’

He waved.

‘This is my twin, Ed,’ Finn said proudly. Ed shook my hand. ‘Hello! Thought I’d pay my brother a surprise visit, see what he was up to. This is fantastic.’ He looked around the dark room. ‘I hear you designed the fliers? They’re great!’ He was tall, just like Finn, but there was an ease and openness about him that Finn didn’t have. I could picture him acting in a Walt Disney movie.

Finn got pulled to one side with another request. I saw him flirting with the girl. What was I thinking? He wasn’t interested in me.

*

Clarky and I danced. He clasped his hands around my waist and pulled me close. Was Finn watching?

‘You’re good, Clarky,’ I shouted above the music.

‘I am?’

‘Yes!’

‘Josie?’

‘Yep?’ I could see Finn coming towards us.

‘Forget about him.’

‘What?’ He was behind Clarky now.

‘FORGET … ABOUT … HIM.’

The music faded and Clarky’s words echoed around us. The room seemed to go silent; there was laughter. Then a new track came on, helping to evaporate the tension.

‘Clarky!’ I whispered. ‘You don’t even know him.’ Why was he behaving like this? He couldn’t have feelings for me, could he? He was my best friend. I thought we both knew we didn’t cross that line. ‘He’s nice, OK?’

‘Finn Greenwood,’ he introduced himself, shaking Clarky’s hand. ‘I’m guessing I’m the “him” she should forget about?’

‘I’m getting a drink of water,’ Clarky mumbled.

Finn led me to the edge of the dark room. I leant against the wall. He stood in front, arms flanking me on both sides so I was trapped. ‘You see, the thing is, I can’t forget about you,’ he said. My heart was thumping. ‘That’s not your boyfriend, is it?’

‘No. I’m just sharing a house with him, we’re going travelling together in Europe later.’ I stopped talking, fed up of tiptoeing around the issue. There were all these smooth chat-up lines and near-kisses but … ‘Is Dominique
your
girlfriend?’

‘No.’

I couldn’t hide my smile.

Finn grabbed my hand and led me upstairs. We walked outside. ‘It’s too noisy in there,’ he said. He held a strand of my hair and twisted it slowly in his fingers. Was he finally going to kiss me? Just as his mouth came towards mine … ‘What are you going to wear?’

He distracted me. ‘What am I going to wear when?’ I looked at him and he raised an eyebrow.

‘On our first date this Saturday, seven-thirty, I’ll be picking you up.’

‘A see-through lace black dress?’ Not that I owned one.

‘With what underwear?’ He was almost smiling again. ‘I mean, if the dress is see-through you’ve got to consider the underwear.’

‘Wait and see,’ I said, feeling utterly out of my depth. My ears were still ringing from the loud music.

Finn scribbled my address on the back of his hand. ‘Better go, Christo needs me.’ He walked back into the restaurant.

‘Do you know where it is?’ I called after him. ‘It’s a blue door and next to …’ I was standing at the top of the stairs.

Finn stopped abruptly and turned to me. ‘Don’t make it too easy. I’ll find you.’