A Hopeless Romantic (7 page)

“Well…” Amy blinked slowly, her huge eyes gazing at Jo with intensity. “That, you know. He’ll lose me. I’m going to finish with him if he doesn’t shape up, and I’ve told him that.”

Laura looked round to see if Dan could hear any of this conversation. Chris and his brother were at the bar, talking to Hilary, but she couldn’t see Dan anywhere. She turned back and looked at Amy, and suddenly felt the old hot flush of guilt wash over her.

“Well, that’s great, Amy,” said Jo kindly. “I hope it works out, if that’s what you want.”

Laura flashed her a look as if to say, “We hate Amy, what are you doing?” But Jo only glanced at her briefly in return.

“I really think it will,” said Amy, smoothing down her hair and smiling. “I hope by then…well, I’m going to drop some gentle hints about what I’d like more than anything else for my thirtieth. If you know what I mean!”

“Great,” said Jo, taking a sip of her drink. “Well, we’ll just have to wait and see!”

“What?” Laura asked stupidly, thinking, What does she want? Some new shoes, probably, knowing Amy.

“Oh, Laura…!” Amy looked at Laura as if she were a little alien, or a Mexican peasant unfamiliar with her ways. Amy delicately ate an olive, and licked one of her fingers. She smiled at Laura pityingly. “An engagement ring, of course.”

A pit from the lemon slice in Laura’s gin and tonic wedged itself in her throat and she nearly choked. “Right,” she gasped, determined not to lose control. “Right. Aaah. Aaaaah. Loo. Excuse me.” And she got up and stumbled outside, to the clear fresh air of the spring night. She stood there taking big gulps of air, one hand clutching her throat, the other rubbing her stomach, a habit she had had since she was little. Right, indeed. She looked in through the big glass windows of the Cavendish, over to the squashy leather sofas where her friends sat, and wondered how things had come so far, got so out of control, so ridiculous. She looked at Jo, methodically folding up her cardigan, neatly stowing it in her bag, and felt helpless. She felt a million miles away from her best friend, from those she thought she knew.

As if by magic, Dan appeared around the corner. He had been to get some cigarettes. He jumped when he saw Laura standing outside, and she nearly screamed.

“What the—what are you doing out here?” Dan said testily.

“Having a breather,” Laura said, suddenly furious at him, especially at his tone. “Listening to your girlfriend talking about her thirtieth birthday in September, how she wants all of us to fly out to Valencia and watch while you
propose
to her in front of all of us—oh, Dan,
Dan
…”

She started sobbing, great heaving sobs that shook her, and Dan pushed her away from the window and against the shop next door. He put his arms around her, holding her so tightly she thought she might not be able to breathe.

“Now, listen,” Dan said, putting a thumb up to her cheek to wipe away a tear. “I have been such a shit to you. And to her, but this is about you. I promise you, that is not going to happen. I promise you I’m going to talk to her in the next couple of weeks. This has to end. I can’t be with her anymore, I just can’t stand it. And I want to be with you.”

He held her tighter and kissed her. She could feel him growing hard against her leg.

“I want to be with you, do you understand me?”

“Yes,” Laura whispered. “So…it’s over with her, then?”

“Yes,” Dan said solemnly. “Shit. I’m going to have to do something about it now, aren’t I?”

“Yes, you are,” Laura said, hiccupping.

“Good. Now”—Dan bent down and kissed her again—“I’m so sorry I’ve been so useless. It’s not fair to her, or me, and especially you. We will be together, I promise.”

“You really promise?” Laura said, wanting a final reassurance.

Dan gripped her wrists and pressed himself against her. “Shit, Laura, I don’t know what else I can say.” He looked around, shaking his head. “I want you to believe it, I really do, but until I’ve talked to her, I can’t…if only there was some way.”

Laura said slowly, “How about that holiday? In July? The Florida road trip we talked about. Ending up in Miami. Two weeks, just us.”

She looked into his eyes and could see the glimmer of uncertainty, of something else—what was it?—there. He looked back at her, trying to bridge that final gap between them. Laura started to turn away, feeling powerful for the first time, and Dan grabbed her again and said, “No, fuck it. Book it. I’m just scared. But I’m being weak and crap. Book it.”

“Seriously?” Laura said, trying to stay calm, though a big smile broke out across her face.

Dan laughed. “Seriously.” He kissed her again. “I mean it.”

He walked back into the pub without looking behind him once, and Laura hung back for a few seconds. This was their usual routine. If someone she knew appeared, she’d just get out her phone and pretend to be texting. She turned toward the door, but as she was pushing it open, someone caught her elbow. She spun round, half with shock, and saw Jo behind her, standing on the pavement. Her face was pinched, her eyes huge.

“Laura…?” she said. “Laura?”

“What?” Laura said, completely calm. Nearly six months of this had made her a professional. She was certain Jo hadn’t seen anything. She held up her phone. “I was just texting someone, reception’s terrible in there.” She gestured inside.

“What’s going on?” Jo said, not reacting.

“Nothing, what do you mean?” said Laura, slightly on edge.

“You’re screwing Dan, aren’t you?”

“What?” Laura said. “
What?
I wish. Come on, let’s get back inside.”

“I saw you,” said Jo, advancing slowly toward her. “I saw him kiss you, I saw you both just now. Laura,
Laura
!” The words were tumbling out of her; she looked distraught. “What the—what the fuck are you doing? How long has this been going on? Does Amy know?”

“It’s nothing,” said Laura, her self-preservation gene kicking in. “Completely the wrong end of the stick. You know how matey we’ve become.”

Part of her wanted more than anything else to tell Jo, to confess all, to ask her best friend’s advice. But she couldn’t. She’d chosen it this way, and soon it would all be sorted out.

“I know what I saw,” Jo said. “Oh, Jesus. All this crap about you two being friends on the Tube platform, that’s how it started, isn’t it? I
knew
you were up to something. Chris said he could tell you were getting it from somewhere, and I told him he was wrong. But…Dan! Laura, I know you’re a screwup when it comes to relationships, but…not again! What the fuck are you doing?”

“Whatever I’m doing,” Laura said, feeling really angry, “it’s none of your business, so why don’t you just butt out, okay?”

“Oh, no,” Jo said, coming right up to her, her blue eyes enormous in her pale face. “It
is
my business, love. It’s my business when my supposed best friend starts shagging our best friend Dan behind everyone’s backs, and then sits there in the pub pretending to be all matey-matey with his
girlfriend.
It’s my business when my best friend lies to me all the time, and I never know where she is, and it turns out that’s because she’s having an affair with one of our best friends. It’s my business when I send you an e-mail saying I’m taking Chris to Morocco for a surprise to cheer him up because of his granddad, and you send a long reply going on about how
fat
you think you are! And you never even call, you don’t remember I’ve even gone!”

“I didn’t—” Laura said, putting out her hands.

“You’re not interested,” said Jo, her eyes filling with tears. Laura was horrified. “You just weren’t interested in anything but yourself. And normally I wouldn’t care, because you’ve done it before, but like I say—it’s started being my business.” She took a deep breath. “One more thing, Laura. It’s my
business
when my
best friend
forgets my fucking birthday and Dan Floyd fucking drops a birthday card round from her that she’s obviously bought at some
corner shop
when the two of you took a break from shagging each other senseless! You selfish cow. I can’t believe it. Well, that’s the awful thing. Actually, I can.” She stepped back again, collecting herself. “I’m sorry,” she said. Screeching, Italian-style emotion was not Jo’s normal mode of behavior. She coughed. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Laura said, shaking her head. “Look, Jo—”

“No, let me finish,” Jo said politely. “Look, Laura. I hate this. I’m sorry, but I always end up having this conversation with you! You’re always doing this. Some guy, you think he’s totally right for you, and you can’t see what everyone else can see, because you’re off in Laura Land making up some fantasy about it.”

“Shut up,” said Laura. She was furious. “It’s not how you think. You don’t understand. It’s complicated.”

“Listen to yourself,” Jo said. She pulled her handbag over her shoulder and folded her arms. “You sound like every cliché. You’re
not
Julie Andrews, Laura! And Dan’s not fucking Captain von Trapp! Don’t you ever learn? Don’t,
don’t
treat me like I’m stupid! God, Laura, what—what’s going to happen?”

“Don’t worry,” Laura said urgently. “Look, Jo, I know it looks bad, but it’s really not. We’re in love. He loves me and I love him. He’s leaving Amy, in about two weeks, he’s just got to sort some stuff out. We’re going on holiday. To Miami.”

There was nothing she could say to convince Jo, and she didn’t even want to try that much. She didn’t know what was going to happen, or even what to do. So she just said, “Look, let’s go inside. Don’t tell anyone, will you?”

Jo stared at her. “Of course I won’t,” she said eventually.

“Not even Chris,” Laura said anxiously. “He really mustn’t know, no one can know. Dan’s really paranoid about it.”

“I’m sure he is,” said Jo. She opened the door. “Fine, then. We won’t talk about it.”

“Fine, then,” Laura echoed.

Amy was standing at the wide bar next to Dan, flinging her hair over her shoulder. She looked up as Jo and Laura walked in, both silent. “Danny’s getting some more drinks, girlies,” she called. “Laura, Jo, what do you want?”

Jo didn’t answer; she went over to Chris, bent over, and whispered in his ear. Chris immediately got up.

“Actually,” Jo said, “me and Chris have to go, got to shoot off. Really sorry. See you all soon.”

“Yeah, bye,” Chris called out.

No one else seemed to notice this remarkably hasty exit except Laura, who stood at the bar feeling sick.

“Okay?” Dan said, nudging her absentmindedly, his arm still round Amy’s waist. “Do you want another drink?”

“I’m fine,” said Laura. “I’m fine.”

Laura didn’t talk to Jo about their conversation outside the Cavendish. In fact, they didn’t really talk at all after that night. Over the next few weeks, they met with the others, sat next to each other, had funny conversations, but the intimacy of their friendship vanished, completely overnight. Laura didn’t worry about it—well, she did, but she knew she could put it right at some point.

Besides, Laura was busy booking the Miami holiday online. She extended her credit card limit and took out a loan, not wanting to ask Dan for money. So when she should have been writing her review of the year for her boss, Rachel, she was spending the days sorting out cars and flights and hotels, e-mailing Dan to get his opinion, waiting in desperation for his replies, soothed and cheered when he would sign off “I can’t wait, I can’t wait.” The holiday in July became their secret focus, and as the days lengthened and May shifted into June, Laura didn’t ask what was happening with Amy, with them, to her. And then one day, without warning, the axe fell.

chapter six

L
aura, can you come in here for a second?” Rachel called from her office.

Laura finished the e-mail she was typing, stood up, and smoothed down her skirt. It was nearly the end of the day and she was in a good mood. It was Yorky’s birthday, and that evening a whole bunch of them were going to an amazing steak house in Stoke Newington called Jean Michel’s.

Laura poked her head around Rachel’s door. “Hi,” she said.

“Hi, Laura,” Rachel said. “Come in. Shut the door a moment, will you?”

Laura froze, knowing from long experience that the shut-the-door request meant either a promotion or something really bad. Usually something bad. She racked her brains, running through a list of options about what this could be, as she slowly pushed the door shut. She’d done something wrong. Again. Someone had complained. She turned around, genuinely mystified, and then she saw a pile of letters on the desk in front of Rachel. Of course! It was pay review time. They’d had an e-mail about it yesterday. Laura sat down gratefully, sweating slightly, and promised God that when she got back to her desk she’d work extra hard, finish that report for Rachel she should have done two weeks ago, instead of finding a hotel near the Kennedy Space Center for her and Dan (Dan was obsessed with outer space, and wanted to spend at least a whole day there).

“Laura,” Rachel said, smiling kindly at her. “You okay?”

“Yes, sorry,” Laura said, slightly breathlessly. “Just thinking about something. How can I help you?”

“I need to talk to you,” Rachel said. She fiddled with one of the buttons on her cardigan. She was normally very much in control; this was odd. “I’ve—I’ve been worried about you.”

“Oh?” said Laura. She crossed her legs and shifted forward in her seat, leaning attentively toward Rachel. “What do you mean?”

“Is everything okay, Laura? At home?”

Laura felt as if she were in an episode of some teen drama on TV. “Eh? You mean—with my mum and dad? Yes, of course it is.”

“No, I mean with you,” Rachel said, her smile remaining fixed. “In your life. Is everything okay? No…problems?”

“No, of course not,” said Laura automatically. “What do you mean?”

“Your behavior…” Rachel trailed off, then gathered herself for the full attack. “I’m afraid we are all rather concerned about your behavior and the deterioration of your performance in the last few months. Laura, I have to ask you. Are you using drugs, or alcohol, in any way that might affect your work life or home life?”