Growing Up Twice Page 33

‘Well, yes, sort of. I was going to tell you, tonight.’ I had my Mars Bars hidden underneath a magazine. It seems pointless revealing them now.

  ‘The Michael thing, I was going to tell you about that …’

  ‘You mean the kid from the party, the ginger kid from the park?’

  ‘Yes, I …’

  ‘You hypocrite. How come it’s OK for you but wrong for me?’ she interrupts me.

  ‘Because, it was just a fling with Michael. You’re planning to ruin your life for ever with some pensioner!’ I retort with a defensive reflex that inflames Selin even further. This is not going the way I planned it.

  ‘How can you possibly know that? Since when have you been an expert in not ruining your life?’ She stands now and roars at me. ‘And Josh? You decide to mess around with Josh now of all times? You don’t care about him in the slightest, do you? You selfish arrogant bitch.’

  My face stings as though I have been slapped. ‘Josh and I have sorted things out. We’re fine about it. So there is no need to go leaping to his defence,’ I argue, aware of how lame I’m sounding. Aware that I should be trying to smooth things over and make things better, but finding that every chance I get I’m throwing it away.

  Selin walks to the door. ‘Oh, he’s let you walk all over him again, has he? Well, I’ll tell you this. I won’t let you get your claws into him, do you understand? So you can forget that little fantasy, you’ll never touch him again.’ She knocks over a cup of hot chocolate in her path. ‘And as for you, Rosie, I’ve had enough of you and your stupid ideas too. Go back to Chris. Good luck to you. But I don’t want to know when it goes wrong, OK? I don’t want either of you on my doorstep any more. My counselling sessions are now closed. Permanently. And thanks for your understanding, by the way. I knew all those years of me being there for you would finally pay off. Yeah, right.’

  She slams the front door so hard the pictures shudder and the next-door neighbour thumps on the wall, probably finally pushed to the brink by the recent week’s rash of door slamming.

  ‘Well, thanks for dropping me in it, Rosie,’ I say bitterly, cross at her and cross that I didn’t handle this better.

  ‘You did it to yourself, sweetie,’ she says archly, reaching over to mop up the chocolate with some tissues. Her prim self-satisfaction drives me mad.

  ‘And you’re about to do it to your baby. To think I even thought you might make a good mother. What a joke.’ It’s out there before I can do anything about it.

  Rosie turns to me with a face like thunder, and throws the damp tissues at me. ‘No, Jen. I’m not the joke. You are. You run around after Owen for three years, when everyone but you can tell he doesn’t give a fuck about you, you sleep with everyone you can lay your hands on except the one decent man that’s interested in you, and then you fuck a kid. That’s a joke. Ha fucking ha.’ And she’s gone into her room.

  I pick up the chocolate-sodden tissues and bin them, then pocket a Mars Bar.

  We have never fought like this before. We have never been so cruel or so honest. I feel as though everything has gone, that the so-called fortress of our friendship has shattered like sugar glass. I can’t see any way back to how it used to be, but then if we are all so happy to lie to each other, if we’re all so blind to each other’s hopes and hurts, maybe there is nothing to go back to?

  I climb into bed, turn off the light and eat chocolate in the dark, mulling over everything they said. None of it was that far off the mark, but there was a time when a fight like this would have been impossible between us.

  What has gone wrong?

  Chapter Fifty

  It’s Thursday and I have seen neither Rosie nor Selin since last Saturday. I guess Rosie has been staying with Chris, and Selin is just staying out of my way. Rosie did come back to the flat while I was at work and left me a note, a Post-it stuck to the front door. I’m sure she appreciated the irony.

  ‘Will be back at the weekend to pick up the rest of my things. Will pay rent until end of month, please sort out return of deposit. R.’

  It hadn’t even occurred to me that Rosie moving out would mean I’d have to find somewhere else to live. I’ve been so used to having my own place for so long, and now it looks as though I’ll have to go back to an affordable house share with strangers, who are probably psychotic, or have rotas for washing up or who write their names on the milk. Oh God, a few weeks off thirty and I’m turning into a student again. Right, calm, calm deep breaths. I can handle this.

  All week I have considered ringing them and trying to make peace. My finger has hovered over both their numbers on more than one occasion and I have always chickened out, childishly deciding that it is always me who makes the first move. Always. For once in my life I’m going to stick up for myself. And besides, they were just as right about me as I was mean about them. It’s much harder to be defensive under those circumstances.

  The only thing I have been able to do is begin to sort out my life, by which I mean making an attempt to steer its direction rather than letting it drift along in limbo.

  The new prospectus for the journalism course has arrived, inviting me to an open evening and requesting a personal statement about why I’m committed to journalism. The course takes three months and it can only be done full time, so I’d have to give up work.

  The prospect of giving up work seems like a dream on the one hand, but on the other, the prospect of making ends meet on minimum-wage bar jobs does not. Josh is the only adult I know who doesn’t have a proper job, but then he doesn’t have nice shoes, forty-seven lipsticks and three maxed-out credit cards either. I have more debt than a small country. Following my dream might be the one tiny push I need to get me off the repayment treadmill and into the as-yet-uncharted land of the credit blacklist. I’ll be scouring the papers for those any-purpose loan advertisements where they lend you money even if you live in a car. And it’s not yours. Still, if I did join the course I wouldn’t be able to start until next April. That would give me a few months to save. Save money, there’s a novel concept.

  Anyway, I have the reply slip agreeing to attend sitting in front of me. I have the biro in my hand. I’ll fill it in later.

  Jackson went back to New York today, a bit earlier than planned in the wake of Rosie’s rejection, I guess. We had a last lunch before he was picked up to go to the airport. He was on good form, but I think he was hiding how down he really felt.

  ‘Jackson, I’m sorry, mate, but as much as I’d love it, you can see why she decided not to go back with you. You hardly know each other.’

  He nodded and stirred his coffee. ‘I know, but you know what? I think we could have made it. Jesus, Jenny, you don’t expect to go falling in love with a pregnant English girl at the drop of a hat. I mean, we didn’t even have sex! God forbid that that woman who wrote The Rules was right about that one. You know, I should have stuck to plan A.’

  I laugh. ‘Oh, and what was plan A?’

  ‘Well, to seduce you and have a fun sex-filled affair until it was time to go home, of course.’ He rolled his eyes and laughed but I don’t think he was entirely joking.

  ‘You were going to seduce me?’ I laughed. ‘Well, that’s a bit arrogant. I don’t even fancy you,’ I lied. ‘And anyway, I was seeing someone at the time. So I was not available,’ I added primly.

  ‘Yeah, the Teenager. Baby, I could have improved on his act, let me tell you.’ We both laughed this time, but I blushed, my cheeks burning bright with the last flames of my office crush.

  ‘Well, if only Rosie hadn’t come along and interrupted your nefarious and shallow plans for me. Darn it, if I’d only known I could have fallen out with her for another reason too!’ I laughed but as I glanced out of the window at the afternoon drizzle I sighed hard.

  ‘You know, she’s full of bravado but I get the feeling she’s scared as shit that this is all going to go wrong,’ Jackson told me gravely.

  I shrugged my shoulders.

  ‘She misses you guys very badly,’ he s
aid to the back of my head.

  I turned to look at him. ‘Well, she knows where I am,’ I said. ‘Or at least where I am until I have to move out because she’s landed me with a flat I can’t afford.’

  Jackson shook his head, checked his watch and stood to put on his coat. ‘I have to run. Look, you’ve all had a bit of a strange time lately. A bad time. Now is the time when you need each other more than ever. One of you has got to make the first move,’ he said, obviously enjoying his moment as paternal influence.

  I affected petulance with full teenage force. ‘But why me? Why do I always have to make the first move?’

  Jackson leant over, ruffled my hair and kissed me on the lips. ‘Because I’ve got to lecture someone and you’re the only one of you dimwits here. And because it’s written all over your face how much you miss them too.’

  I shrugged again and stood up to hug him goodbye. ‘I’ll miss you,’ I said, and I meant it.

  ‘I’ll miss you too, but I’ll be back in six months and maybe by that time I’ll have gotten over Rosie, you’ll have gotten over … whoever it is this week and we can have that affair I talked about.’

  I laughed again and pushed him away. ‘Jackson, I never said that I wanted to sleep with you!’

  He gave me one last lingering look. ‘Honey, you never had to say anything.’

  By now he’s probably back in NYC. I do miss him. He was just about the only person I’m talking to at the moment.

  The other thing I’ve done is to enrol for driving lessons. My first one is tomorrow night. I deliberately planned it for a Friday night so that I would have something to preoccupy me during the day and so that I won’t have to say, ‘Oh nothing,’ when people ask me what I’m up to that evening.

  And in between planning my career, taking to the highways and not making up with my friends I think about Josh. Josh, Josh, Josh. Our brief encounter on the sofa and our brief encounter at the party. In fact, I’m having such a problem maintaining my resolve over Josh that I even find myself, like right now for instance, staring at the phone and repeating over and over again in the back of my mind, ‘Phone me, Josh, phone me, Josh.’

  So fully absorbed am I in my new role as love-crazed spinster that the ring of the phone makes me jump and nearly spill my tea on my still-blank application form.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hi, Jen, it’s Josh. You all right?’ The sound of his voice sets a flutter going in my stomach. Josh whose voice I always recognise and who nevertheless always feels obliged to remind me who he is every time we talk on the phone anyway, Josh who makes my cheeks turn pink. He sounds in an upbeat mood.

  ‘Um well, you mean apart from the recent Armageddon to hit my social life? I’m fine. How are you?’ I’ve changed my mind about being sensible, I can’t stop thinking about you and I miss you and do you want to come over right now and have sex? I mouth silently into the mouthpiece.

  ‘Oh, you lot will sort it out. You always do,’ Josh says, oblivious to my silent plea. ‘And look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Adem. Selin really wanted to tell you herself. He is a really sound bloke, you know,’ he adds loyally.

  ‘Yeah, well. We’ll see.’ I bet his ex-wife and kids don’t think so.

  ‘Anyway, the reason I’m phoning you –’ I feel a brief flurry of excitement and anticipation that Josh might ask me out and break the expected tedium of the up-and-coming weekend, and I know that my willpower will dissolve under no pressure at all in about 000.01 seconds. ‘– is that I wanted to know if you’ve read Time Out today?’

  ‘Time Out? No. I don’t need Time Out any more, I don’t have any friends,’ I say, wondering if he’s spotted some cool club we can go to, or some new restaurant in town.

  ‘The review of the exhibition?’ I had totally forgotten it came out today. I can tell that even Josh is becoming impatient with my introspection.

  ‘Oh God, Josh, sorry. What did it say?’ I hold my breath.

  ‘Yeah, it was good, really good. It said the collective had some good ideas and it was worth a look, but best of all he mentions me by name. Listen: “Painter Josh Mehmet may be traditional in his use of oils and canvas but all that is ordinary ends there. He has an eye for form and colour that is startling and engaging, and an emotive and passionate style that connects with his audience”.’

  ‘Bloody hell! Josh, that’s great. Emotive and passionate. Imagine!’ I imagine him being emotive and passionate with me and take a deep breath.

  ‘Yeah, and today I sold a painting. The one that was up for one hundred and fifty quid!’ Here we go, he’s going to invite me out to share his new good fortune.

  ‘Josh, that’s fab, are you going to celebrate?’ I prompt him.

  ‘No, not at the moment. I’m still not quite in the mood for celebrating and anyway, I haven’t got time. The Time Out bloke is interested in me exhibiting some work at his gallery. We’re having a meeting tomorrow, I have to go and paint before the terror of it all petrifies me into artist’s block!’ He laughs and I try to mask my disappointment. It turns out that the man actually does think about something else apart from me. This secret-admirer business isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. But my empty weekend aside I really am pleased for him, he deserves it.

  ‘Josh, that’s great. Thanks for letting me know.’

  ‘No problem. It sounds stupid, but I somehow get the feeling that Ayla is behind this. That she is helping me on. Does that sound stupid?’ His detached voice suddenly sounds very young and vulnerable.

  ‘No, not stupid. Not stupid at all.’ We listen to the sounds of each other’s breathing for a moment.

  ‘About the other night, everything I said …’

  I wait for him to continue with bated breath. ‘Yes?’ I’m terrified.

  ‘Well, I meant all of it and, and well, the more I think about what you said the more I think you’re right, that we need to wait a bit. And the fact that you’ve insisted on it makes me realise you care about this too. It makes me feel good. Optimistic about the future, for the first time in ages.’

  My heart melts and I’m glad I managed to keep my trap shut for once. ‘And me, me too,’ I say simply.

  ‘I’ll see you soon, yeah? Call me,’ he says. I say goodbye and hang up the phone.

  The doorbell chimes. I’m not expecting anyone, Rosie said she wasn’t planning to come back until the weekend. Maybe she’s come to her senses and is back with her tail between her legs.

  ‘Hello?’ I ask the intercom system.

  ‘Jenny? Hello. It’s Adem, I thought we should talk about the flat.’

  My heart sinks into my toes.

  ‘I understand you will be moving out soon?’

  Rosie must have contacted him already. Good old Rosie.

  ‘Yes, come up,’ I say blankly. I leave the door on the latch, return to the living-room and slump into the sofa.

  ‘Hello? May I come in?’ he calls down the hallway. His stupid politeness rankles.

  ‘Yes!’ I’m in the living-room,’ I snap. ‘You know where it is, presumably.’

  He appears in the doorway, and takes the chair by the phone. ‘Actually, I haven’t really been here since I bought the place. It’s looking pretty good though.’ He smiles at me and I have to admit his laughter lines are quite pleasant. At least he hasn’t gone totally to seed like some men his age, he’s still slim and he’s got most of his hair. Well, let’s get down to business.

  ‘So, I have to move out. End of the month. Can we have our deposit back, please? Two cheques would be best.’ I don’t think we really needed a personal visit to sort this out and I just want him out of the flat as quickly as possible so that I can go back to moping alone.

  Adem shifts in his chair and leans forward, clasping his hands together as if he is about to pray. ‘Actually, Jenny, I wanted to talk to you about Selin.’

  I sigh, audibly. ‘Really?’ I say with as much icy disinterest as I can muster.

  ‘You must think she is crazy, wanting to
marry an old man like me.’

  I nod. ‘Well, yes.’

  ‘I expect you wonder why on earth we got together …?’

  ‘Oh no, not really, I’ve seen it a million times before. Man hits middle age, man dumps wife and kids and goes off with first bit of young stuff he can find who’s blind enough or stupid enough to shag him. Man forgets he ever had a family.’ My dear old dad, still breaking my pretty heart in two after all these years.

  ‘Jenny, I was married, yes.’

  I rest my case.

  ‘I met my first wife, Andrea, when I was twenty-two.’

  ‘I’m not really sure I want to hear this,’ I say.

  ‘Please. Let me speak. I met Andrea when I was twenty-two. She was eighteen. I hadn’t lived in London long, she was a barmaid in the local pub. I’d never seen anything like her. She was so full of life. A very pretty blonde girl. Vivacious, you know. Every night for two months I went to the pub and ordered a cola – I hadn’t found work yet, so I sat at the bar and made it last for as long as I could, just to talk to her.’

  This is possibly the cheesiest story I have ever heard. ‘I’m sure the memories will comfort her on the day you marry your second wife.’

  He looks at his hands, takes a deep breath and carries on.

  ‘Finally I found some building work, and I thought, well, now at least I can take her out somewhere decent, so I went down to the pub that night, but I couldn’t work up the courage. I thought I’d have a drink, just one and then I’d do it, but it never seemed like the right time. When she called time I was pretty drunk and I thought, that’s it. I’ve blown it, she must think I’m a fool. Just as I was getting ready to leave she marched round the other side of the bar and said to me, “Are you going to take me out, or what?” I was speechless, so I just nodded. “Good,” she said. “Friday’s my night off, meet me here at seven, we can go for a meal.” And she put her arms around my neck and kissed me on the mouth. Three months later we were married.’ He is smiling to himself as he recounts the tale, the hypocrite.

  ‘So, what you’re trying to say is that you got married too young, neither of you really knew each other and after twenty-odd years you’ve finally realised it’s never going to work?’