Authors: Lisa Jewell
As he made his way towards the Circle line, he was no closer to deciding what to do. Every option seemed to offer nothing but down-sides - not an up-side or a fringe benefit in sight. Where was the option that resulted in Jem realizing she was madly in love with Ralph, leaving Smith without teling him why and everyone living happily ever after? Non-existent, that was where.
He'd have to play it by ear. See how he felt when he was sitting there in the restaurant, with Jem. Maybe she had her suspicions, you never know. Then he would only be confirming what she already knew, not maliciously
sabotaging Smith's life. Yes, that's what he'd do. Plan nothing, decide nothing, Play It By Ear...
The Tube finaly arrived at Bayswater station and he tumbled off and up the stairs towards the bright lights and open-al-hours bazaar atmosphere of Queensway above. Jem wasn't there yet. He glanced around him for a clock - it was six twenty-three. He stood at the lip of the station, his hands deep in his pockets, his nose starting to run slightly in the cold night air, brusquely dismissing thoughts from his head as they entered, chanting mantra-like to himself,
Play It By
Ear, Play It By Ear.
An old woman in the opposite corner to him was muttering obscenities to herself and slowly hitching up yards and yards of filthy grey skirt. He looked away, embarrassed, but then couldn't resist a quick look back. She was showing him her prune-like, hairless fanny and smiling at him through blackened, wizened teeth.
That's what you want, innit darlin'?' she was chunter-ing. Ralph looked away again. How disgusting...
Queensway never slept, but that was because no one English lived there - it was al company lets and pay-by-the-week hotels, Australians and Arabs and Africans, big-screen sports pubs, al-night coffee shops, noisy restaurants, and the sound of loud foreign chatter everywhere you went. It always felt vaguely like being on holiday when you were in Queensway. Not the place for cocoa and slippers and
Coronation Street
with your shepherd's pie.
Ralph glanced at the clock again, careful not to attract the attention of the repugnant female flasher stil standing across from him and now, he suspected, urinating down the wal. It was six twenty-nine.
Play It By Ear. Play It By Ear.
'Who's your mate?'
Ralph spun around as he heard a soft female voice centimetres from his ear. It was Jem.
'Oh, shit. Thank God. It's you. I thought it was my knickerless friend over there.'
'Lovely, isn't she! Has she shown you her fanny yet?'
They began to walk.
'So, how was your day?' Jem asked.
'Oh, crap. Didn't get a thing done . . .'
'Oh, that's a shame. Why not?'
'Just had a lot on my mind, I guess.'
'Like what?'
'Oh, nothing much. You know, just stuff...'
'Anything you want to talk about?'
'Nah - not realy - maybe. I may bend your ear yet.' Yes. That was good, Ralph thought. Lay the foundations for possibly discussing it later. 'How was your day?' He looked down and smiled at her. He loved that he had to look down to smile at her. It was so.. .so..
.beguiling ...
'Dreadful, absolutely dreadful. The Monday from Hel. But far too boring to talk about. So, tel me about this jal frezi.'
They chatted as they walked, about curry, about this and that, about nothing. Ralph began to feel himself simmering to the surface like boiling milk, but he couldn't turn the heat down. He didn't want to make smal talk. He didn't want to pretend that they were just friends. He didn't want to just go and have a curry with Jem and come home and watch Jem disappear into Smith's slimy, second-rate arms. He wanted... he wanted ...
Play It By Ear,
he reminded himself,
Play
It By Ear.
But it was no good. He was playing it by ear and his ear was teling him to do it, to take a risk with everything in his life, gamble the lot. Yes, please, Mr Croupier, I'l put it al on red, the limousines, the yacht and the house in Colorado ...
He took a deep breath and then exhaled. They'd reached the restaurant. The abrupt change in atmosphere brought his temperature back down to a simmer for a few moments.
'Wow!' exclaimed Jem, 'what a place!'
Dozens of unsmiling waiters in skinny black trousers ran nimbly through a vast sea of tables, holding aloft huge silver platters filed with red, green, brown and creamy pink curries, and cushiony white naan breads like miniature moonscapes. Hundreds of loudly conversing diners sat framed by colonial murals in mint green and ice blue, between towering wrought-iron palm trees and under six-foot ceiling fans spinning desperately to keep the intense heat down.
A frenetic waiter showed them to their table, threw a pair of menus at them and disappeared without a smile.
'It's not the friendliest place in the world,' whispered Ralph, 'but just take a look at the prices.'
They discussed the menu, decided on their order, and within less than a second of them closing their menus the same wiry waiter was back, gruffly taking their order and disappearing quickly again.
Their Cobra beers arrived in thirty seconds.
'Fast turnover,' Ralph laughed, suddenly realizing that he'd chosen a bad venue for a heart-to-heart - if you took longer than fifteen minutes in this place they sent waiting customers to hover over your table.
Wel,' said Jem, smiling up at Ralph over the top of her beer glass,
'this is very nice, isn't it?'
Ralph was slightly taken aback. He'd forgotten that this was very nice. He'd just been thinking of it as purgatory.
Tes,' he said happily, 'I suppose it is - very nice indeed.'
'Um' — Jem looked away from Ralph and then back towards him
— 'what's it... what's it in honour of?'
'What d'you mean?'
'It's just that — I hope you won't take this the wrong way — I kind of had the feeling, when you phoned this morning, to ask me about tonight, that you were ... asking me out?'
'Realy! What made you think that?' Ralph choked on his Cobra.
'Oh, I don't know. You just sounded sort of nervous and the conversation was a bit stilted. It just... reminded me of being asked out on a date. That's al,' she finished, waiting for a response.
The smal talk was over.
'So' — Ralph rubbed his chin — let's get this straight. I phoned you, entirely innocently-bored, nothing better to do than phone boring old Jemima Catterick - invited you out for a curry, purely, of course, so I wouldn't have to sit here on my own, and you thought I was asking you out on a date. The cheek of it!'
'Oh, stop it!' laughed Jem.
'And then,' Ralph was getting into his stride now, 'and then, having quite unbelievably mistakenly thought that I'd asked you out on a date, which is, of course, ridiculous, instead of saying "But, oh, Master Ralph Sir, I couldn't possibly, my heart belongs to another, you are
a scoundrel and a cad," proceeded to accept what you had so brazenly misinterpreted as an invitation of an
amorous
nature and are here now, sitting at this table with me,
unescorted II
What am I to make of this?'
'Oh, Ralph, you old git!' Jem was blushing furiously.
Tm sorry,' Ralph laughed. Your face. It's a picture. You look so sweet.' He looked down at his large, long-fingered hands, now covering Jem's tiny white ones, and felt a glow in his stomach. They looked so right together, those hands. He wanted to see them together for the rest of his life. He caressed the side of Jem's hand with his thumb. She made no attempt to move it. 'Such tiny hands,'
he murmured. He squeezed them and looked at Jem, giving her a slightly cheesy smile because it was al he could manage, and then down at their hands again. 'You were right.' He glanced at her shyly through his eyelashes. 'I
was
asking you out on a date earlier. It's true.' He smiled again and gave her a 'Caught me' look with raised eyebrows. 'I ... we had such a great time at the weekend — it was
... it was one of the best weekends of my life — honestly. And I wanted to see you again — away from the flat and from Smith and everything. I just... I just love being with you, Jem, I realy do, and...' He gulped and looked quickly up at Jem, who was watching him with an expression of anticipation and warmth. He sat up straight and looked her in the eye. 'I hope you don't mind,' he finished, looking away again.
'Of course I don't mind,' replied Jem. 'I've told you before, I love being with you, too. I know I've only known you for three months, but I already think of you as one of my best friends.'
'Oh, God, Jem, that's sweet. But it's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about love. Real love. Not palsy-palsy love, not matey love. I
really, really
love being with you. I...' He faltered for a moment and felt a tingly sweat begin to break out on his brow as the floodgates opened. 'Oh, God, Jem. I love you. I've never said that to anyone before. But I mean it. I'm mad about you.
I think you're the most wonderful person I've ever met. I think about you al the time and I can't pretend I don't feel this way any more. I'm jealous as hel of Smith for having you. I never realy thought about love before, about the right woman, about settling down with one person. And then you moved in and at first... at first I didn't realize how special you were - you were just a flatmate I didn't realy want. And then I got to know you, got used to having you around, and gradualy started liking you more and more. And then one night I knew - the night we had the chili chalenge. I suddenly knew, without a doubt, that I was in love with you. Jem, we were destined to be together. We're right for each other. We fit.
We would be the most special couple in the world, you know —
magic, it's magic when we're together, haven't you noticed? I can't just be friends with you any more, Jem, d'you understand? I don't want you to like me as a friend. I want you to feel the same way about me as I do about you, and there are times... sometimes, when I think you already do.' He breathed out, a long, cool wonderful breath, ful of relief and elation. He felt about ten stone lighter, the weight of the feelings and emotions he'd been hauling around with him for the last two months finaly lifted from his soul.
'I also know that you've heard al this before. I know about Nick, and Jason, and the other ones. I know you've had enough declarations of love to last you a lifetime.,
'What!' Jem's eyes were saucers.
'... but I promise you, I'm not like that. I wouldn't want to change you, to control you. I want you exact!; as you are now. So, if I don't hassle you and I don; bombard you with flowers and poems and love letters, it's not because I don't love you, it's because I do.
D'you see?'
'What!? Rewind! How the hel do you know about Nick and ... and Jason, and everyone?'
Ralph looked across at Jem's furious face and exhaled heavily. Oh what the hel, he thought. Nothing to lose now. May as wel go for broke. He took a deep breath.
'Oh, God. Jem. Please don't overreact to this, please try to understand. This is going to sound dreadful, but ... but ... I read your diaries. I'm so sorry. I've been reading your diaries since the day you moved in. I mean, not just reading your diaries, it was more than that, I've spent hours sitting in your room, just breathing you in, just being among your things. I know everything about you. I know how ugly you felt when you were growing up, I know about al those lovesick boys, al those clingy, demanding men who tried to change you tried to control you. I know everything about you and I think it's only fair that you know everything about me I know it was wrong—I've never done it before, I promise you. I was just sort of... drawn to them ... drawn to you. I know that sounds like bulshit, but it's true. An< it made me feel so close to you. I wanted so much to feel j close to you. I'm not good with intimacy, Jem. It was the only way I knew. I'm very, very, very sorry. Realy I am.
I'm so sorry, Jem.' He smiled nervously, his gorgeous, lop-sided, lazy smile, from left to right. 'Please, Jem - say something.' He held his breath and awaited her response.
Jem's face was puce. 'I can't believe it! I can't believe you read my diaries! That's ... horrible! Christ, Ralph. I thought you were my friend! Wel, look. You can forget about that, you can forget
all
about that. Friends don't destroy their friend's sense of privacy, friends don't snoop around their friend's personal things. It makes me feel sick just thinking about it...'
'Please ... Jem ... please try to understand...'
'No, Ralph. I don't understand. And from this day on, from this
moment
on, you and I are flatmates - nothing more, nothing less -
no more curries, no more chat, no more anything. Just keep away from me and everything wil be just fine. Let's just forget any of this ever happened-OK?!'
'No! Jem! Please! I don't want to forget this ever happened. I'm glad this happened. I
wanted
this to happen. Please — let's talk about this.'
'Ralph, didn't you hear what I said? No more. It's over. I want to go home. Let's get the bil.'
She leant down to pick up her handbag then, rustling around in it for her purse, her chest rising and faling violently with the effort of not crying. Her world was spinning around her head like a broken helicopter. She had never felt so confused in her entire life. She was angry, so angry, about Ralph reading her diary, snooping in her room. But she was feeling more than that. She could live with the idea of Ralph reading her diaries. She wasn't a secretive person, she had nothing to hide. It was a terrible thing for him to have done, but she could handle it. What she couldn't handle was the avalanche of feelings triggered by Ralph's declaration of love, his declaration of what, if she was honest with herself, she'd known al along. Ralph was in love with her! He'd laid his hand on the table, he'd let the cat out of the bag and there were beans al over the bloody place. This was no longer a game. The situation was no longer under control.
And she wished she could have laughed lightly, patted Ralph's hands and told him sweetly that she loved him too, but not in that way, that her heart and her destiny belonged to Smith, that she wanted nothing more from him than friendship. But she couldn't, Because it wasn't true.