The Night That Changed Everything (2 page)

‘Rebecca,' I say, holding out the hand that's not full of wet napkins.

He grins. ‘Strong handshake.'

‘Thanks,' I say, though I don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing. It's a good thing at work, but is it a sexually attractive trait? Christ, who am I?

He picks up the cocktail from the side and starts to sip it.

I look at it. Then look at him. ‘Really?'

‘I'm mates with the fella that runs the place.' He looks at his drink and sighs. ‘He stitched me up.'

‘You know Jamie? He's one of my best friends.'

‘Mine too! We went to school together in Manchester. Then obviously he came to London for uni and I stayed up there.'

‘Oh, you're
that
Ben,' I say. ‘Jamie's mentioned you.'

‘How do you know him?'

I explain how he, Danielle and I all lived together at university.

‘Ah, you're
that
Rebecca. I've met Danielle, actually, at Jamie's old bar. That's her with Jamie now, isn't it?'

I look over and see her slipping her mobile back into her bag. Wonder what Shane wanted. Did he miss his flight from Ireland? Going to be late? A no-show?

‘Yep, that's her.'

I should really close this conversation and go over as I can't stay too late tonight, and it's Jamie's big night. But . . .

‘So you live in London yourself now, don't you?' I ask him, remembering what Jamie has told me.

‘Since last year, yeah. Guess I needed a change of scenery. I went travelling, thinking I'd work out what to do with my life while I was away, but I've been back a few years and I'm none the wiser still.'

‘What did you do at uni?'

‘History. So, of course, my options were limitless.'

‘They were?'

‘Yeah. I could have been a comedian like Sacha Baron Cohen, or a novelist like Salman Rushdie. Or, actually, a Prime Minister – Gordon Brown did history.'

‘So . . .'

‘I temp in HR for London Transport.'

‘Ah, that classic cliché.' I smile. ‘Running away to the big smoke to fulfil a life-long ambition in personnel.'

Sarcasm comes as naturally to me as flirting does to Danielle, but as soon as it's out of my mouth I panic. What if he thinks I'm mocking him?

Thankfully he properly laughs, flashing straight white teeth, and if I was that sort of girl, I'd say his laugh is like sweet, sweet music, but I'm not, so I won't.

‘That's why I'm temping,' he says, meeting my eyes again. ‘I'm still trying to work out what my life-long ambition is. I want to leave my mark, you know?'

A girl pushes her way through the middle of us to get to the bar and the spell is broken.

‘Where did you travel?' I ask, enjoying the way he moves his hands whenever he talks.

‘All over Asia.'

I try to conceal a smile. ‘Be honest, Ben . . . did you spend a year drinking Thai whisky from a bucket, playing drinking games at your hostel and making people take photos on a beach while you jumped really high in the air?'

‘Not the whole year,' he says, laughing again, then looking thoughtful. ‘My favourite was staying the night with Buddhist monks on a Japanese mountain.'

‘Mount Koya?'

‘Yeah! Have you been to Japan?'

‘I lived there.'

‘No way – how come?'

‘We travelled a lot with my dad's job.' Someone else pushes through, then I notice Ben closes the gap ever so slightly so no one else can pass between us. I get a faint whiff of cigarette smoke and wonder if it's from him. ‘So where do you live?'

‘Here in Greenwich, with those two.' He nods towards the pool table where Russ and Tom are still playing. ‘I work with them too.'

‘Are they as passionate about HR as you?'

‘Pretty much,' he says with a laugh. ‘Tom's always wanted to be an artist and Russ has always wanted to be a superhero, so it's the logical career for everyone. What about you?' His eyes find mine again. ‘What was your dream when you were a kid?'

‘Becoming an architect, like my dad.'

‘Nice. So what was your degree in?'

‘Architecture.'

‘That makes sense. What do you do now?'

‘I'm an architect.'

‘See? We're the same. Indecisive.'

We both laugh, then sip our drinks in tandem.

‘So, what was Jamie like in school?' I ask.

‘Same. Popular, confident. Good with girls. He was going out with Freckly Fiona for a while before he moved.'

‘He did that alliterative nickname thing even back then?'

‘Yeah. Talking of which . . .' He looks around. ‘Any idea which one Tidy Tania is?'

‘Who? Also, why have I never heard of this Freckly Fiona?'

‘I guess he doesn't really like to talk about it. She didn't take it well when they broke up.'

I see him turn to Jamie again. ‘Anything going on there, do you reckon?'

I look over too, seeing Danielle with her arm around Jamie's waist and Jamie with his arm slung around Danielle's shoulder.

‘Nah, they're just the world's two biggest flirts. Jamie's probably the only man in here who doesn't fancy Danielle.'

He looks confused. ‘I don't.'

We eye-lock again, the tension thick.

‘Ben?'

‘Yeah?'

‘Your drink is dripping on your shirt.'

‘Arggghhh. Crap.'

He straightens the straw to stop the flow.

‘Want me to go get you a napkin? I owe you one.'

He laughs that lovely laugh again, then pauses and says: ‘I do if it has your number on it?'

It's spoken as a question and his eyes are looking for mine again so I know I'm meant to answer, but I freeze. I can't reply how I'd usually reply to such a cheesy line, because my standard ripostes are designed to make the guy run away, and I don't want that to happen.

What would Danielle do?

She would calmly take a pen out of her bag and write her number on to a napkin, kissing it to leave a red imprint of her lips before handing it over and shimmying away.

I laugh inwardly. No way I'm pulling
that
off.

The silence is growing.

‘You've finished your drink,' Ben says, nodding at my empty as if the last thing he said wasn't a question after all. He's making it easier for me not to answer, and I hate myself. ‘Can I get you another?'

Out of the corner of my eye I see Danielle retreating towards the door with her coat on. Why is she leaving? ‘Sorry,' I tell Ben. ‘I just need to check in with Danielle quickly. I'll be back in two minutes.'

I rush towards the exit, bumping into Jamie on the way.

‘Hey,' he says. ‘I didn't realize you were still here. I've hardly had a chance to talk to you all night. How's work going? Are you all ready for Monday?'

‘Getting there,' I say, mentally groaning when I remember how much I still have to do tomorrow. ‘Where'd Danielle go?'

‘Shane called earlier and said he was running late. He asked her to meet him outside when he gets here. Seemed he isn't in the mood for a party.'

I sigh. Danielle wouldn't leave a friend's party for anything usually, but Shane is her weakness. The kryptonite to her Superwoman.

Jamie is still talking but I'm only half listening. I position myself to face the room so I can look for Ben without Jamie realizing. Eventually I see him standing by a booth, chatting to his friends.

‘Anyway,' Jamie is saying, ‘I need to nip back behind the bar while Erica takes her break. Are you sticking around?'

‘Er.' I glance at Ben again. He's deep in conversation – there's no way I can go over and interrupt. ‘I should really head off.'

‘What is it you keep looking at?' asks Jamie, twisting his neck. ‘Ah ha. That's Ben,' he tells me, lowering his voice. ‘He keeps looking over at you, I've noticed.'

‘He does?' I try to keep the keenness out of my voice but fail, and I can see Jamie is taken aback.

‘You like him!' Jamie says incredulously.

‘Why? What's wrong with him?'

‘Nothing, he's a legend. It's you – you never get doey-eyed over anyone.'

‘I'm not doey-eyed, you knob.'

I go to slap him on the chest but he catches my arm and laughs.

I glance over at Ben one last time. He's whispering something to Russ. There really is no way I can butt in. And it's even more awkward now Jamie has cottoned on.

‘I'm off,' I say, a cheery smile covering my disappointment. ‘I'll see you later.'

‘Will you be OK getting home? Shall I get you a cab?'

‘Don't be silly, I'm only round the corner.'

‘Fine,' he says, knowing there's no point arguing. ‘Text me when you're home. And good luck on Monday.'

That's that then, I think as I turn on my heel and start making my way out. Who knows, I might even run into Ben again at some point. He's friends with Jamie, after all. Even though he's lived in London a year already and tonight's the first time I've met him. And maybe by the time I see him next he'll have a girlfriend in tow. Someone like him won't stay single for long.

I'm passing the pool table when I make up my mind, in a moment of madness that I can only blame on drinking whisky on an empty stomach, to turn back around, march up to the bar and grab one of the red napkins.

‘Erica, do you have a pen I could borrow? Thanks.'

I scribble my number on it, wondering if Ben is watching me now but not daring to look because I know I'll bottle it if he is. It goes against every instinct I usually have, but I'm scared this will be my only chance to let him know that . . . I felt it too.

‘Give that to Ben,' I say, returning to Jamie, who takes it with a smirk. ‘And shut your face!'

‘I didn't say a word.' He holds up his hands with a laugh after he's tucked it into his shirt pocket.

‘Good, because if this goes tits up and he doesn't call, I'm going to need you to unfriend him so I never have to face seeing him again.'

I have a feeling, though, as I walk out the door and pull on my jacket, that it won't go tits up.

It feels like something has just begun.

Tuesday, 23 September

‘I'm so proud of you,' I say, as Rebecca lays knives and forks on the dining table.

‘I still can't believe it,' she says. ‘My first building to design.'

Her company is overseeing the rebuilding of a cinema in Hackney, thanks in no small part to her pitch eleven months ago. She found out yesterday they're making her the lead architect, so I've come round to her and Danielle's place to cook a celebratory meal.

‘It was never in doubt,' I say.

How could they not give it to her? It was one of the most attractive things about her that night we met – her passion for what she did.

I kind of hoped it would rub off on me.

I still
am
hoping it'll rub off on me.

The intercom buzzes, but Danielle is in the shower and Rebecca is still setting the table, so I answer it myself, planting a kiss on Rebecca's temple as I go. I glance back from the door and see her smiling.

‘All right, Nicholls,' Jamie says to me, once he's conquered the two flights of stairs.

‘All right, Hawley,' I say, stepping aside to let him in.

Jamie's eyes are immediately drawn to the bathroom.

‘Jeez, what's that
noise
?'

The three of us stop and listen as Danielle adds an unscheduled key change to a Black Eyed Peas song. Rebecca and Jamie share a knowing look.

‘Remember at uni when we ended up in that karaoke bar?' Rebecca says, shuddering at the very idea.

‘You mean 2 Unlimited-gate?' Jamie puts down his gift bag and addresses me. ‘She thought people were singing along but they weren't, they were saying,
No, no, no, no
.'

Danielle pads out of the bathroom in her dressing gown, a white towel Mr Whippied on her head.

‘Rebecca was just saying how much she's going to miss your singing when you move out,' Jamie calls over.

Danielle's cousin has bought a place in Blackheath and offered her a room for bugger-all rent. Which I'm secretly pleased about.

‘She'll get over it,' Danielle says. ‘Just like I got over not being able to steal your facemasks after living with you at uni.'

She vanishes into her bedroom with a smirk while Jamie turns his attention to my shopping bags.

‘What're we having?' he says.

‘Cambodian beef curry.'

I learnt the recipe from a hostel owner in Phnom Penh.

Jamie nods. ‘Nice, anything I can do?'

I pluck the red onions from their bag, kicking a basket of wet washing out of the way to make space before handing him one of the knives from the set I bought on the way here.

‘The box says this bad boy can cut through the sole of a shoe,' I say.

‘That's an everyday problem solved.' He laughs. ‘I thought you were skint, though?'

‘Overdraft.'

Rebecca tuts, but I think she gets why I'm suddenly buying stuff for this place. We haven't talked yet, but with Danielle moving out, it makes sense for me to move in. That's why I was happy when I found out she was going. I mean, I like living with Russ and Tom, but I'll be twenty-eight in a couple of weeks, and I've had enough of wondering who stole my cheese.

I keep imagining cooking for Rebecca every night, always giving her the best portion, and I can't do that with the single, blunt kitchen knife that she and Danielle have been getting by with for years.

‘Bastard onions,' says Jamie, burying his eyes in his elbow.

‘It's weird,' says Rebecca, ‘chopping onions never had any effect on me.'

‘Shocker,' I say.