Authors: Lisa Jewell
As his car passed the window he slowed down and looked up at the flat. Their eyes met for less than a second and a look of unbearable intense pain passed between them. The Embassy made a smal, bloodcurdling screech before disappearing from view and out of Almanac Road.
Ralph checked the clock on the bare white wals of his studio for the hundredth time that hour. It was 5.18. Time to go, nearly. Wel, if he took his time, dawdled a bit, he could probably leave now. It wouldn't matter if he got to Bayswater a bit early; it was a nice evening, he could wait outside the station. And that way, if Jem got there early, too, they'd have longer together.
He switched off the little radio, put it in his rucksack, picked up his jumper and coat from the chair by the blow-heater where he'd been warming them up, threw them on hastily, turned off the light and locked the doors behind him.
The concrete corridor was cold and filed with the clackety-clack of interlock machines from the dressmaker's studio next to his and muted drum 'n' bass coming from her CD player. He took the steps two at a time out into the dark courtyard, past Murray, the permanently stoned security guard, and into the bleak, traffic-infested thoroughfare of Cable Street.
Another wasted day. Another totaly wasted day. He hadn't even picked up a brush. He'd spent the first hour pacing the studio, getting up the nerve to go to the payphone down the corridor and phone Jem. And then, when he'd finaly done it, he'd spent the rest of the day pacing the studio in anticipation, watching the minutes die slowly on the studio clock, his stomach clenched tight in a knot of excitement, fear and dread. Shit. He didn't know what the hel to do, how to handle it. His loyalties were split asunder.
Smith, you arsehole, you stupid, stupid fucker. Why did you have to tel me? And that was the irony of the whole situation. Smith had told Ralph because Ralph was Smith's best friend — who else was he going to tel? And since Jem had moved in, that was something that Ralph had almost forgotten. For the last three months he hadn't seen Smith as his mate any more, his best buddy. He was his rival, his opponent. He was the person who was getting in the way of his dreams and his destiny, the person who stood between him and happiness. Ralph had forgotten, forgotten that, first and foremost, before Jem, before nearly everything else, Smith was his best friend.
He'd felt bad about it - but not as bad as he'd felt about Smith's pathetic little outburst of childish excitement when he had got back from his team-building weekend the night before.
Smith had been edgy from the moment he'd got back to the flat on Sunday night, overanimated, overblown, loud and irritating, going on and on about his weekend. Jem had gone to have a bath. Smith had waited until he heard the bathroom door bang shut and then leant towards Ralph conspiratorialy.
'It's happened!' he'd said, his face almost splitting at the seams with delight and excitement.
'What's happened?'
'Finaly, finaly!' continued Smith, oblivious to Ralph's lack of comprehension, 'I knew it. Didn't I tel you? Didn't I tel you!' He punched Ralph playfuly on the thigh and grinned at him like the Cheshire Cat.
'Spit it out, Smith, for Christ's sake. What the hel are you going on about?'
'Cheri, of course! Cheri!' He was rocking back and forth. 'Ma
Cheri
amour! Ha!'
'What? What are you talking about?'
'Wel, Ralph, my friend. My patience has paid off. It is, as they say, in the bag. Tonight I bumped into the glorious Ms Dixon outside Sloane Square Tube station. Uh-huh! We shared the bus stop for a while and we just chatted ... like you do.' He raised his eyebrows mock-nonchalantly and then broke back into a ludicrous smile. 'Can you believe it? Me and Cheri. Just chatting! I didn't stutter, stammer, grimace, drop anything, break anything, sweat or trip over. We ... just ... chatted. Ha! And she is
only
about three hundred and eighty-five times more beautiful when you're talking to her than when you just glimpse her in passing. God! It was amazing.
Anyway, we waited ages for a bus, just chatting, as I said, and then I suggested we go for a quick drink at Oriel to warm up and then maybe get a cab a bit later. Cool, or what?! So we did. I asked her what she wanted and she ordered a bottle of wine. A whole bottle!
So I knew she wasn't just being polite — she'd have ordered a tomato juice or something then, wouldn't she? And she is just unbelievably nice, you know — realy, she is. I know you think she's a snooty cow but she isn't at al. Oh, Jesus, Ralph. She is beautiful. She is so beautiful. I have never seen skin like that in my life. And her hands are perfection and her hair is like ... like ...'
Ralph had been momentarily speechless. He'd breathed in deeply as he felt his heart fil with a mixture of joy and horror. Smith stil loved Cheri! In spite of Jem, in spite of everything. This was wonderful news.
But it was terrible news, too. Poor Jem. She didn't deserve this. As much as he wanted Smith and Jem to split up, as much he wanted her for himself, he couldn't bear the thought of her being treated so badly by anyone.
'Oh, my God, Smith. I thought this was al over. I thought you were over this. What the fuck are you playing at?' He'd eyed Smith with horror and disgust.
'I thought I was, too. I thought it was over. But then I saw her tonight and ... and, wel, God. She's just so beautiful. And I can talk to her, Ralph. I can realy talk to her ...'
'But what about Jem? You can talk to Jem, too. I've never met a woman as easy to talk to as Jem ...'
'Oh, yeah. I know that. But Jem's Jem and Cheri is something completely different...'
'What, Smith? What
is
Cheri? What the fuck is going on here?'
'OK. OK. Keep your undies on. Look. I don't know. I don't know, al right!' Smith had put his head in his hands. 'Christ - talk about pissing on a bloke's fireworks. Jeez...'
Tjook, Smith. I am not here to piss on your fireworks. I'm here to point out to you that you have a girlfriend. Remember? Jem? Sweet, trusting, loyal, faithful, loving Jem? Christ.. .'Helooked away, revolted.'So,'he sighed resignedly, 'what happened next?'
Smith brightened a little and sat up straighter. Wel, so, we were in Oriel, chatting, drinking wine, just getting on, realy. And she was teling me al about herself, about how she used to have loads of lovers, but now she's got rid of them al because - and get this -
she's looking for Mr Right! Is that amazing, or what! She's basicaly cleared the decks for the right man. It's got to be, hasn't it? It's got to be me! I've waited five years, I've wanted that woman for
five years,
I've dreamed about her, I've thought about her, I've even... Shit, I've even imagined her when I've been in bed with Jem ...'
Ralph wrinkled his face in distaste. You realy are a cunt, aren't you?'
'Jem was just al a big part of the way things panned out. Jem took my mind off Cheri for long enough for my obsession to shrink to a manageable size, so that when Cheri was ready for me, I wouldn't blow it. D'you see? It's al timing. It's destiny.'
'I thought you didn't believe in al that.'
'I don't... I didn't. I do now. I didn't believe in Jem's destiny, but I believe in my own. This is it, Ralph. This is it!'
'This is
whatfl
Wil you please tel me what the fuck is going on?
You have a drink with the girl from upstairs, she tels you she's not going out with-anyone at the moment and you're already making plans for the future. I mean —
what?'
He shrugged and held up his hands in frustration. 'You're just going to dump Jem, are you? Just throw her away like a used tissue?'
Tuck, Ralph -1 can't believe you're reacting like this! I thought you'd be pleased, excited for me. You know how long I've been in love with that woman, you know the hel I've been through. Christ, before Jem came along I hadn't had sex for five years. Five years!
Do you have any idea what that feels like? Jem's been great for me, realy great. She's brought me out of myself, reminded me about shared physicality, about sharing everything. And, no, I'm not going to dump her. Not yet, anyway. It's stil early days for me and Cheri.
I've got to earn her trust. Just because
I
know we're meant for each other, it doesn't mean that shel know. No, I've got to take it slowly ...'
'... and meanwhile, you'l just tag good ol' Jem along for the ride, wil you? Smith, I'm horrified. I am horrified and I am disgusted by you. In fact, I am so disgusted by you that I can no longer talk to you.' Ralph stood up and looked down at his friend. 'Jem is just about the best person I have ever known — no, actualy, she
is
the best person I have ever known, and I refuse to sit here and alow you to treat her like this. I'm going to tel her, and I'm going to tel her now!'
Smith leapt to his feet. 'Don't you fucking dare! Don't you fucking
dare\
One word, just one word leaves your lips and you're homeless, mate' — his face was milimetres from Ralph's - 'and I mean that.
One word,
and you're out of here. You're my mate, Ralph,' he said, running his fingers through his hair, 'and I hope you'l always be my mate. But mates stick together, don't they? They don't take sides with girls. You've known me for fifteen years.
You've known Jem for fifteen minutes. It's your choice. OK? But don't think I wouldn't do it. Because I would.'
He'd picked up the remote control, then, stretched his legs out on to the coffee table and switched on the tely.
Ralph had looked at him there on the sofa in his rumpled suit and tie, his blandly handsome face bare of feeling, and wondered for one stupefied moment how a girl as perceptive, wise and reasonable as Jem had ever thought that an emotional cabbage like Smith could be the right man for her, the man she'd been dreaming about since she was sixteen.
Ralph quietly and sadly left the room, and headed straight for his bedroom.
He hadn't got a wink of sleep that night. His emotions were al over the place. Excitement, because he knew something that would put a speedy end to Jem's sily infatuation with Smith. Frustration, because to tel her would be apocalyptic. Feelings of hypocrisy, because he was no angel himself. He felt sorry for Smith because he was an arsehole, and he felt sorry for Jem because Smith was making a fool of her. In a way, this was al his dreams come true, confirmation of everything he'd always thought - that Smith was not worthy of Jem and her unconditional love. Confirmation that Smith didn't deserve a girl like Jem.
He tossed and turned and turned and tossed, his emotions going around in his head like marbles in a tumble-drier, and then he'd got up early, before Jem and Smith, and made his heavy-hearted way to the studio. He stil hadn't decided what he wanted to say when he'd phoned Jem, he just knew that he had to talk to her. They'd had such a wonderful weekend together and, despite the scene the night before with Smith, he didn't want to break the spel.
And now he was standing on the dreary platform of Limehouse DLR station, waiting impatiently for a rare sighting of a train, his mind stil in total and utter pandemonium, wondering what the hel to do. Should he? Shouldn't he? The complete devastation if he did.
Smith would know it was him who'd told Jem and would throw him out of the flat. But then, he'd had a free ride for long enough now.
Smith was going to settle down with someone at some point, whether it was Cheri, Jem or anyone else, and he'd be out on his ear then anyway.
Maybe it was about time he learned to stand on his own two feet, stopped using Smith as a security blanket.
But he'd have lost a friend, his best friend. Did that matter any more? He was vaguely surprised to feel a twinge of pain in his heart when he contemplated it. But it was nothing like the enormous spear of agony that pierced right through the fibre of his being when he imagined losing Jem; that realy would be the greatest loss imaginable. Maybe Jem would hate him for teling her, for dismantling her happiness and taking apart her dreams. Maybe she'd take out her anger at Smith on him, direct her hurt and her disappointment at him. That would be the worst-case scenario —
then he'd have lost everything.
He realized that the safest possible alternative was to say nothing.
Smith was a slimebag, he'd proved it now, and the best decision al round would be to say nothing, bide his time, capitalize on his wonderful relationship with Jem and then be there for her, help her to pick up the pieces when it al came tumbling down, as it was bound to, at some point in the future.
But that was the problem - the vagueness of that concept: 'some point in the future'. What sort of way was that to live a life, waiting for your best friend to break your true love's heart before you could claim your destiny, before you could be happy? And, in any case, maybe al this bulshit about Cheri would come to nothing and Smith would keep Jem hanging on in second place for the rest of their lives. Maybe he'd fuck up in ten years' time when he and Jem had four children and a house in the country and invited Ralph over for dinner once or twice a year because they felt sorry for him. No. He couldn't let that happen. He didn't want to be staring wistfuly and meaningfuly at Jem over the dinner table when he was forty, stil resenting Smith.
A train finaly slunk apologeticaly into view, and Ralph boarded it, too grateful for the warmth to feel angry about the wait.
And then there was the matter of personal morals. In some people's books, and maybe in Jem's, reading someone else's diaries would be perceived as being on a heinous par with infidelity. Did he realy have any right to moralize about Smith's actions? Did he have any right to unload Smith's secret on to Jem without coming clean about his own sneaky, dishonest behaviour? Not realy. But how could he do that? How could he tel Jem in one short sitting that (a) her boyfriend had been fantasizing about an unattainable woman he'd been in love with for five years while he was in bed with her, (b) her flatmate had been reading her diaries and snooping in her room for the best part of three months and (c) aforementioned flatmate was hopelessly, passionately and devotedly in love with her and wanted to spend the rest of his living days with her. And how're you finding your jal frezi, by the way? Shit.