The Night That Changed Everything (11 page)

‘For a start you'd have to create a watertight business case,' I say, crossing my arms.

‘Well, it's the twenty-first century.'

He points to the calendar and I frown, not following.

‘If you want to know how to get from South Ealing to Angel,' Richardson explains, ‘you don't waste your time going to the ticket office – you look on your smartphone.'

I pat my pocket and I realize I left
my
phone at my desk.

‘Oyster cards, debit cards – the world is going contactless.'

That's true enough: Rebecca has been completely contactless since Saturday night.

‘But seriously, what happens to the staff?' I say. ‘I mean, you have to look into whether they can be reposted, and you'll need to go through consultation, possibly with Acas, and because the numbers of redundancies might be quite high we'll probably have to inform the relevant government departments, and obviously there's industrial action to think about, and—'

‘The directors are coming in on Friday – do you think you'd be able to come up with a document on all this for then?'

‘Friday?'

It's doubtful I'll be able to get anything comprehensive down on paper by then, especially with my head as it is, but I badly want to get back to my phone, so I nod and tell him
Yeah, no problem
.

‘One more thing,' says Richardson, standing to accompany me from his office. ‘You're looking very smart again today, I like it.'

I always thought Jamie and I dressed pretty similarly but apparently not.

‘Ta.'

There are no texts and no emails waiting for me when I go back to my desk. I check the time. One hour and forty-seven minutes of the working day without making contact. Benjamin Franklin would be proud, I think to myself as I walk towards the door, sensing Russ and Tom following me with concerned eyes.

Once outside, I press my thumb on Rebecca's name in my phone and smile politely at Michelle from Accounts, who is standing by the revolving doors smoking a cigarette. I walk down the street for privacy.

You've reached the voicemail of Rebecca Giamboni. Leave your name and number and I'll get back to you.

I close my eyes at the sound of her voice, remembering the conversation we had after the first time I heard her voicemail. I told her Voicemail Rebecca was a bit curt, and she joked that she couldn't speak right now and I should leave a message after the tone. Then when I started talking again she cut me off with a
beeeep
, just like the one I'm listening to now.

‘Becs, it's me. I love you, I miss you. Call me back.'

I'm lolled on the couch, music drifting from my phone, which hasn't buzzed all afternoon, when I hear a key in the door.

‘I thought you were working tonight?' I say.

‘Thought you might appreciate the company.' Jamie puts down a plastic bag and starts leafing through his post. ‘You heard from her yet?'

I shake my head. ‘I feel like my life is on hold.'

‘In which case . . .' He discards some junk mail into the bin and points an accusatory finger towards my phone. ‘. . . can we change the hold music? This is fucking depressing.'

‘It's Damien Rice – one of the best—'

‘It's wank, is what it is.'

Jamie comes over and snatches my phone.

‘This from the fella who has a signed Chas 'n' Dave disc on his living-room wall,' I say.

He returns to the worktop, picks up the plastic bag and dangles it in the air. ‘Thought we could have a beer by the river?'

I'd wanted to keep a clear head in case Rebecca calls back, and it's getting dark, but he has taken the night off, and got beers.

We take up a position on the concrete bank just outside his apartment, legs dangling half a metre above the water. Jamie pulls two cans from the plastic bag, tossing one into my waiting hands.

‘Where'd you get to last night?' I ask.

It was past three a.m. when I heard the door.

‘Lock-in.' He pulls the tab and takes a long first sip. ‘With Tidy Tania.'

‘While her boyfriend was . . . ?'

‘They've split up,' he says neutrally. ‘She wanted to come back here.'

‘And you didn't because . . . ?'

He regards me, still in the trousers and shirt I borrowed for work, a triangle of shirt untucked at the side. ‘With you on the couch?'

Jamie hunches his shoulders like he's not that bothered anyway.

‘I was too tired,' he says. ‘It's been a strange week.'

His smile is lopsided, but after a few seconds his lips even out into a full-on grin. ‘I like to be on top of my game the first time I sleep with someone. I want to do everything I can to ensure they've got something to tell their mates about.'

‘
I
try to do everything to ensure they've got
nothing
to tell their mates about.'

Jamie takes another glug. ‘I'm not sure you need to worry about Rebecca and Danielle exchanging notes.'

‘Too soon, Jamie.'

He laughs ruefully.

‘So it's weird,' he says, straightening his legs so they're parallel with the water. ‘You normally want to endlessly talk things through, but we haven't spoken properly since you got here.'

‘What's the point?'

Jamie allows his legs to drop against the concrete and looks at me questioningly. ‘It's just not like you, is all.'

I pause, contemplating what to say, how much to reveal. ‘I've spent the past year with Rebecca pretending that Danielle and I never happened, and it's been easy, because it was just one night, it meant nothing, and I don't really see the point in dragging it all up now, especially when things have been going so well between me and Rebecca.'

Jamie nods into his can. ‘I've never seen her happier.'

‘Really?'

‘Really. You're good for her. A couple of years ago it was just work, work, work with Rebecca.'

‘And now it's just work, work?'

‘Pretty much.' He laughs. ‘Seriously, though – you're good for each other.'

If it was daytime the buildings opposite would be reflected blurrily in the Thames like Impressionist versions of themselves, but the sky has faded to an orangey black, and everyone has switched on their lights, so the reflections have been replaced by long streaks of light in the water, as though each building was a rocket taking off with a trail of fire. I never really noticed buildings before I got together with Rebecca, but her pointing out their features and explaining the idea behind their designs has apparently rubbed off.

‘I was going to ask her to marry me.'

Jamie pulls his feet up and adjusts his position so he is facing me, legs crossed. ‘What did you just say?'

‘I bought a ring.'

‘You did not buy a ring.'

I confirm my folly with a laboured nod.

‘Why the fuck am I only finding out about this now?'

‘I thought you'd think I was an idiot.'

‘Well . . .'

I look down at the reflection of my shoes in the water. ‘I applied for a loan the day after we got back from Beachy Head.'

Jamie locks his hands behind his neck and brings his elbows together.

‘Jeez,' he says, still looking like he can't quite believe it. ‘So when were you gonna do it – when
are
you going to do it?'

‘I didn't know –
don't
know.' I shake my can to assess how much is left, then down the dregs and reach for another. ‘I knew how, though.'

Jamie accepts the can I hold out, pulling the tab.

‘She found a ring, when we went to Beachy Head, outside the pub. We handed it in at the bar. That's when it came to me. I'd take her back there. She'd said about staying at the B and B. Her mum stayed there. So we'd go and have another picnic and everything would be exactly the same, right down to the hip flask . . .' Jamie smiles. The hip flask was his idea. ‘And again she'd find a ring by the wonky pub sign, except this time we wouldn't hand it in to the landlord.'

‘How would you get it there?'

‘I was gonna go there without Rebecca knowing, a couple of days before. I'd give the landlord the ring to plant before we got there. Then I was gonna lead Rebecca towards the pub, and when she found the ring she'd be like,
What the fuck?
And that's when I'd get down on one knee.'

Jamie lays a hand on his chest. ‘I'm choking up here, Nicholls.'

‘I'd obviously make sure no one else was around when I did it – you know what she's like.'

‘Nah, fuck that – get a dance troupe to serenade her and film it for YouTube.'

I laugh. ‘Can you imagine her face?'

‘She'd never speak to you again.'

I sigh. ‘She might never speak to me again anyway.'

I bury my head in my hands, and when I look up again Jamie has returned to his previous position, legs dangling. ‘You know when you walk anywhere with Rebecca and you can't tell her to slow down – you just have to wait for her to wear herself out?'

I nod, unsure where he's heading.

‘That's what this is. I get why she's pissed off. I would be. But the anger – she'll wear herself out with it.'

For some reason I find myself thinking about the Chas 'n' Dave disc on his living-room wall. He made me listen to one of their albums once after I dismissed them as a comedy act. And you know what? They're actually all right. Their songs are happy, uncomplicated, but when you listen to them, their lyrics are full of wisdom. And that's Jamie to a tee. But what if this time he's wrong?

‘Thanks for taking the night off, mate.' I look at him. ‘And ta for letting me kip on your couch, and the clothes.'

He bats away the sentiment with his hand.

‘People at work keep saying how smart I look.'

‘That's because your work clothes are scruffy.'

‘Are they fuck!'

‘They are. It's your way of rebelling against the system.' He points at the bit of untucked shirt. ‘I bet that's been like that all day, hasn't it?'

I laugh until I feel his hand reach under the loose bit of shirt. He pinches the top of my boxers.

‘Just checking you haven't been borrowing my pants,' he says.

I elbow him away.

‘I mean, I love you, but—'

‘I bought some new ones on my lunch break yesterday.'

All this talk of boxers reminds me that he could have pulled a girl he's fancied for ages last night.

‘Sorry I stopped you bringing Tidy Tania back.'

Jamie chuckles drily. ‘I wouldn't have brought her back anyway.' He downs the last of his second can and takes the keys from his pocket, spinning them around his index finger. ‘She's only just split up with her boyfriend – she's too vulnerable.'

‘Rebecca's right about you, Hawley.'

He demands an explanation with his eyes.

‘She says you're all talk when it comes to women.'

Jamie smiles to himself as he isolates the key to his apartment and places a hand on my shoulder. ‘You coming?'

‘I'll follow you up in a minute.'

I watch him disappear into the building, waiting until I can no longer see his silhouette behind the darkened glass of the main doors before dialling her number. I wait again, for the line to connect, and finally it rings, once, twice, three times.

You've reached the voicemail of Rebecca Giamboni.

Maybe it's the beer, but I have to take the phone away from my ear. The sound of her voice has caused another knot to form in my stomach, and for the first time an unbearable thought starts to blossom in my mind.

What if Voicemail Rebecca is all I get now?

Thursday, 6 November

The buzzer goes. That'll be my curry.

‘
Ciao
!' Stefan greets me as I pull open the door. ‘What's happening?'

‘What's happening,' I tell my brother, ‘is that I've had a mental day at work and I'm starving and I thought you were my dinner and you're not, and now I hate you.' I cross my arms. ‘Why are you here?'

‘Meeting a mate in Greenwich for a drink so I thought I'd drop off your housewarming gift.' He holds out a WH Smith bag. ‘And your warm welcome has confirmed it was definitely the right decision.'

‘I've lived here for nearly five years, Stefan.'

‘I know, but you've never lived with a boyfriend. It's a big deal.'

‘Oh,' I mumble, taking the bag and pulling out the book inside, pursing my lips as I read the cover. ‘
Delia's How to Cheat at Cooking
?'

‘I like Ben,' he says by way of an explanation. ‘I don't want you to scare him off.'

I turn away and move towards the sofa but he must catch the look on my face.

‘Rebecca? What's wrong?'

‘Nothing.' I move the case to
The Killing
DVD off the sofa so he can sit next to me. I'd actually been hovering dangerously on the verge of watching it. I know I'm mad at Ben but it still feels wrong to break the cardinal rule of not going ahead in a boxset we've started together.

Stefan sits and looks around. ‘Where's Ben?'

‘Oh, um, he's . . .' I get up and pour us both a whisky from the decanter on my bureau, just so I can keep my back to him. ‘We're kind of on a break. Drink?'

‘Why?' he cries. ‘What did you do?'

‘What makes you think I did anything?' I spin round, angry at the injustice. ‘If you must know, I kicked him out when I found out he slept with Danielle.'

Stefan gasps then stands up and heads for the door. ‘Where is he?'

‘Stefan!'

‘No one hurts my sister and gets away with it.'

‘Oh, calm the feck down,' I tell him, dragging him back towards the sofa. I don't point out that Ben would wipe the floor with him in a fight.