The Time of Our Lives Page 11

  A jolt travels through my body at the mention of my name. Why would he say my name?

  ‘I’d say you must have strong legs,’ she says dryly.

  I feel the anger prickling away inside me. What I want to do is jump up from behind the sofa and have a go at her, but I can’t. With every second I stay hidden, it gets harder for me to come out.

  ‘Don’t,’ Tom replies. ‘Don’t do that.’

  ‘What?’ Cleo says casually. ‘You brought her into this … for some reason …’

  ‘She’s my friend,’ he says in a long, drawn-out way that makes it seem like this is something he says a lot.

  ‘And this guy was just my friend,’ she points out. ‘You’re not the only person allowed friends of the opposite sex.’

  ‘Are you jealous?’ he asks her.

  Cleo doesn’t say anything, but her silence speaks volumes.

  ‘Cleo?’ he persists.

  ‘The other night, when we were talking about Luca, you said—’

  ‘Right, we’re ready to go,’ Zach interrupts them. His sentence starts off upbeat, but halfway through he realises he’s walked in on something. ‘Oh, er …’ He pauses. ‘I can go away for a bit, give you guys a minute to finish your conversation?’

  Yes! Please! I need to hear the end of this sentence.

  ‘No, it’s fine,’ she insists. ‘Tom is just being silly, aren’t you?’

  Another pause.

  ‘Yeah, no worries mate, we’re fine,’ Tom insists.

  ‘OK then, let’s go,’ Zach says.

  I wait until I hear the front door close before popping my head up slowly from behind the sofa. Satisfied I’m alone, I walk around and plonk myself back down.

  I can’t believe my name came up while they were arguing, but what was Cleo going to say? What did Tom say when they were talking about me?

  As I ponder their argument, I realise I’ve started eating the Maltesers that I picked up from the floor. It serves me right for breaking my diet, I suppose.

  Chapter 17

  Now

  There is a toddler on a mission charging towards the pond, at full, wobbly toddler speed. I think she has her eye on one of the ducks on the water, and she’s heading straight for it.

  I don’t even think about it. I snatch myself away from Pete and race towards the child, snatching her up just before she hits the water.

  ‘Whoa there,’ I say, even though it’s a child and not a horse. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Chocolate,’ the pink-tutu-clad girl replies. Ahh, a child after my own heart.

  ‘OK. Let’s find your mummy or daddy.’

  As we make our way back towards the party, we bump into Fiona.

  ‘Wow, you two haven’t wasted anytime,’ she jokes.

  ‘Har-har,’ I reply. ‘Do you know who this little monster belongs to?’

  ‘No idea,’ she replies.

  ‘Well, whoever it is, they weren’t keeping a very close eye on you, were they?’ I say to my new best friend, in that weird voice adults only use for talking to kids. I suppose this is the first airing mine has had. ‘She was trying to join the ducks in the pond.’

  ‘The kid was near the pond?’ I hear a voice coming from behind me.

  ‘She’s fine, Alan. Don’t worry.’

  I keep forgetting Alan is lurking around.

  ‘It’s Al now, not Alan,’ he reminds me. ‘And she shouldn’t be near the water, I was talking to the old chap behind the bar who says they have natrix natrix here.’

  ‘They have what?’ I ask. I don’t even know what words he is saying to me.

  ‘Water snakes,’ he replies. ‘Around this time of year, the babies will be hatching.’

  ‘Are they dangerous?’ Fi asks in a weak voice. She’s like me, she doesn’t like creatures. We spent many a night in the old house armed with cans of hairspray and rolled up Cosmopolitan magazines after spotting a spider.

  ‘No, they’re not dangerous,’ Al explains. ‘But they do secrete a garlic-smelling fluid from their anal gland if they feel threatened.’

  ‘Oh my God, why did I have to ask?’ Fi says softly to herself.

  ‘Erm … I’m just going to go check in with a few people,’ Pete says. It sounds like he can’t wait to get away from this conversation. I hope he doesn’t think I am affiliated with Anal Alan in any way.

  ‘Oh, OK,’ I reply.

  ‘We’re just not meant to spend time together, are we?’ Pete says with a half-hearted chuckle. ‘I’ll find you later?’

  The fact that he hasn’t written me off yet puts me at ease.

  ‘That would be great.’

  Once he’s gone, Al doesn’t waste any time.

  ‘You know, I always thought we’d have kids,’ he tells me.

  ‘Wow,’ Fi blurts.

  ‘Al, we were together for a few months when we were like 20,’ I remind him. ‘We haven’t even spoken in ten years.’

  ‘Well, I did try and add you on Facebook years ago,’ he insists.

  ‘I didn’t see that.’ I absolutely did see that. I just didn’t accept it.

  ‘Do you know what your problem is?’ Al starts, but I don’t let him finish.

  ‘We need to get this one back to her parents,’ I tell him. ‘Can this wait?’

  Al shrugs his massive shoulders.

  ‘I don’t know, Luca. Can it wait?’ Al asks this question like it’s the most profound, philosophical thing.

  I push the little girl further up on to my hip. I hadn’t realised she was slipping down. These things are heavy, when you hold them for too long.

  ‘Christ, Al is still so boring, isn’t he?’ Fi says once he’s gone.

  ‘What, you don’t find garlic snake butt secretion fun?’ I reply sarcastically.

  I suddenly remember the toddler in my arms might be listening, but she’s oblivious, her eyes fixated on the clouds as we walk.

  ‘Hey, I thought you were going for a lie down?’ I say.

  ‘I was going to get a break from Zach,’ she replies. ‘And to try find some food, but there’s nothing in the rooms. No mini bar, no complimentary biscuits – nothing. I’m so hungry I’m dizzy.’

  ‘That’s rubbish. I’m starving too. I’m also worried about the boys drinking so much when they’ve hardly eaten,’ I reply, as my mother mode kicks in. ‘Tell you what, I’ll meet you back at the table and we’ll figure something out, I’ll just go return trouble to her parents.’

  ‘OK, sure,’ Fi replies. ‘I thought kids weren’t invited? That’s what Ed said.’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ I reply. ‘Maybe don’t tell him.’

  ‘Sure,’ she replies with a giggle.

  ‘Right, you,’ I say to my new friend, as I rotate in the centre of the lawn. ‘Can you show me which one is your mummy or daddy?’

  As I twirl, the little girl looks like she’s giving real thought to my question – that or the twirling is making her feel sick.

  ‘Are any of those people your mummy and daddy?’ I ask, pointing to some adults sitting at tables.

  The little girl looks over but there isn’t a glimmer of recognition on her face.

  ‘What about over here?’ I say as we head towards the bar.

  I notice us catch a woman’s eye. She looks at us for a second before hurrying over.

  ‘Hello,’ she says. ‘Is there a reason you have my child?’

  ‘I found her,’ I reply, unsure of the woman’s tone.

  ‘You found her?’ she asks. It suddenly occurs to her to take the child from me.

  ‘She was about to fall in the pond,’ I say bluntly. ‘And apparently there are snakes in there.’

  I don’t think this woman needs the gory details.

  ‘Well, she’s supposed to be with her nanny. I don’t know, you can’t get the help,’ she says, muttering to herself as she wanders off with her child.

  And … you’re welcome.

  As I approach the toilets in the bar, I can’t help but overhear a heated conversation
. I stop at the end of a corridor and peep down. Tom and Cleo are arguing, and I know that I should mind my own business, but I can’t resist lingering behind the wall, trying to hear what they’re talking about.

  ‘… because I’m realising now, more than ever, that life is short,’ Tom tells her. ‘Don’t you think?’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ she replies. ‘Now, more than ever, I care about being happy, about Sunny being happy.’

  ‘I need to do what’s right …’ he starts, but I don’t get to hear what he says before someone invades my personal space. I don’t suppose I needed to hear much more, I should be happy, that he’s doing the right thing. He has a child to think about. And I didn’t want him anyway, did I? I don’t want someone who plans a stag do where everyone comes back physically – and purposefully – mutilated, do I? What a liability. And then there’s the fact that he drives like an idiot, in his environment-killing car. With every new thing I learn about the new Tom, I realise he isn’t the Tom I thought I was in love with all those years ago. He’s no Pete. He’s barely an Alan. Speaking of which …

  ‘Luca,’ he sings as he places a hand on each of my shoulders and shakes me, I imagine in some kind of weird attempt at dancing with me, but it’s just uncomfortable. ‘You can’t avoid me all day.’

  ‘I’m pretty sure I can,’ I say with a laugh, although I’m not kidding.

  ‘The way we ended … it never quite sat right with me,’ he starts. ‘I think you were hasty, breaking up with me when you did – like you did. I always thought you’d call.’

  ‘Alan, that was years ago,’ I say.

  ‘Al,’ he corrects me. ‘Al Atlantic.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Don’t you think it’s fate, that we’re here together now?’ he asks. ‘Like Tom said in his speech.’

  ‘It isn’t fate – it isn’t even coincidence,’ I tell him. ‘We’re both friends with Matt, it’s his wedding …’

  ‘Look, I know we had our problems back then, but we’re both adults now and—’

  ‘Hi,’ Tom interrupts us.

  ‘There you are,’ I say. ‘We’ve got the thing to do, with the others.’

  It only takes Tom a split second.

  ‘Yeah, the thing. We doing it now?’ he replies.

  ‘Yeah, let’s go.’

  ‘Wait,’ Al says, placing an arm in front of me. ‘Please can we talk about this?’

  ‘I don’t think she wants to talk about it, buddy,’ Tom says.

  Alan is no threat to me, I know that, but it’s nice to see that Tom is still willing to protect me.

  ‘Says who?’ Al asks, squaring up to him (or down to him, I suppose).

  Oh God, here we go. I’m trapped here, between the devil and the shallow blue sea, and they’re going to start fighting if I don’t do something. Tom and Alan never did get on.

  ‘OK, right, we need to go do this thing,’ I say, pushing in between them. ‘But Alan – Al – I promise we will talk about this later, OK?’

  ‘OK,’ he says, giving me a firm nod. He turns to Tom. ‘But I’m keeping my eye on you.’

  ‘Oh please,’ Tom says as soon as Al is out of earshot. ‘The only thing he’s keeping an eye on is the mirror.’

  ‘Wow, you’re so brave when he can’t hear you,’ I tease.

  ‘That’s true,’ Tom says. ‘He could kill me easily with one punch, or just his fake tan fumes to be fair.’

  I laugh. ‘Thanks for the excuse,’ I say, turning to walk away.

  ‘Luca, wait,’ he says. I stop in my tracks. ‘You’ve got some brown stuff on the back of your dress.’

  ‘What?’ I say, spinning around like a dog chasing its tail, trying to get a look at it. I can just about see it. ‘Oh my God, I really hope that’s chocolate.’

  ‘How would you get chocolate on your back?’

  ‘How would I get the alternative on my back?’ I ask.

  ‘I saw you slink off with that guy earlier …’

  ‘And did you also see me carrying a toddler around?’ I ask angrily. ‘Seeing as how you’re keeping an overly close eye on me.’

  ‘I did actually, yeah. I saw you dancing on the grass with her. You looked cute together.’

  Tom smiles, and I puff air out of my cheeks because not only do I struggle to keep the butterflies in my stomach calm when I see that smile, but it feels like he is really messing with my head today.

  ‘We weren’t dancing, we were trying to find her mum,’ I insist.

  ‘Whatever, you were dancing. You might’ve been looking for her mum, but you were being cute.’

  I ignore him, grab my phone from my bag and punch a quick message to Fiona to tell her I need to pop into the ladies’ to clean my dress but that I’ll be right there.

  ‘I need to go clean this,’ I say.

  ‘Need a hand?’

  ‘No thanks.’

  ‘How are you going to reach?’ he ask with a cheeky laugh.

  ‘Just fine.’

  ‘Show me,’ he suggests, knowing full well I can’t reach my own back without taking my dress off.

  I sigh.

  ‘Just check there’s no one in there; I’ll pop in, clean it for you, and then I’ll leave you alone,’ he suggests.

  ‘Thanks,’ I say, annoyed to be accepting his help, but appreciative none the less.

  I step into the loos first. Thankfully there’s no one there – the other toilets, nearer the outside area, are much busier – so I open the door and tell Tom that the coast is clear.

  ‘Oh my God,’ he shrieks with horror as he begins to dab my dress clean.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s just chocolate,’ he says, his face dissolving into a smile. ‘And now that I look at it, it looks like a little handprint.’

  ‘Occupational hazard,’ I tell him.

  ‘Working in PR?’

  ‘No, being a bridesmaid – and the only one who isn’t pregnant. I’m getting lumbered with all sorts of jobs when, really, I should just be sat, getting drunk, moaning about being single.’

  ‘You’re not seeing anyone then?’ Tom asks casually.

  ‘Only the Deliveroo guy.

  Tom looks confused by my joke.

  ‘I made that sound like I’m banging the Deliveroo guy, didn’t I?’ I laugh. ‘It was supposed to be a joke about how single and lonely I am … like, the only person I see is the person who drops off my food.’

  Tom laughs, but then his face falls.

  ‘I’m fine though,’ I say. ‘That came out wrong. I’m not lonely.’

  ‘Hello,’ Fi says, amused to be walking in on the two of us alone in the toilets. ‘Gosh, I feel like I’m at uni again.’

  ‘Tom is just cleaning my dress,’ I tell her.

  ‘I haven’t heard it called that before,’ she jokes. ‘Anyway, we were thinking of sneaking out for half an hour to grab a quick McDonald’s – there’s one at a service station not too far from here.’

  ‘You’re sneaking out of a wedding to go to McDonald’s?’ Tom asks.

  ‘It’s not as bad as it sounds,’ I assure him. ‘Bloody Clarky spiked our food with chilli and ruined it. We’re all starving.’

  ‘Can I come?’ he asks.

  ‘Of course you can,’ says Fi. ‘I’ll buy your silence with nuggets.’

  ‘Throw in a McFlurry and you’ve got yourself a deal.’

  ‘How are we getting there?’ I ask.

  ‘Well, I’m sober, so I can drive, but now that Tom is coming there’s too many of us to fit in my car,’ she says.

  ‘I can drive as well,’ Tom says. ‘I haven’t actually had a drink yet.’

  ‘Oh, great,’ Fi replies. ‘Well, I’ll take the drunk boys, in case one of them throws up. You can take Luca. She’s usually clean. We’ll meet you in the car park. Just as soon as you’re done “cleaning her dress”.’

  If I didn’t know better, I’d think Fi was setting me up.

  Chapter 18

  Then – 17th April 2009

  ‘You
know I’ll always love you, no matter what,’ Alan assures me.

  ‘Right,’ I reply.

  ‘And you know I’d never want to offend you,’ he continues.

  ‘OK …’

  Why do I feel like he’s about to do just that?

  ‘I just don’t want to see you get fat.’

  I feel my jaw drop in astonishment.

  ‘You don’t want to see me get fat?’ I say back to him, just in case I’ve made some kind of mistake. Did he really just say that?

  ‘Why don’t we go for a run?’ he suggests.

  ‘First of all, because you always tell me that cardio kills your gains – whatever that means – and second of all, because it’s 9 p.m. on a Friday night, it’s chucking it down with rain, I’ve spent all day working on a stressful group project, and now all I want to do it order a pizza and curl up in front of a movie.’

  ‘A pizza here, a cheeseburger there … Combined with a sedentary lifestyle, you’ll get fat. It’s a certainty. And all you want to do is watch movies.’

  When I first started seeing Alan, his passion for fitness was something to be admired. Now, it’s starting to get on my nerves. At first it was just small annoyances, like I’d want to spend time with him but he’d have plans to go to the gym. Then he started refusing to go to places to eat if they didn’t serve food that didn’t ‘fit his macros’, whatever that means. But now I feel like the camel’s back is about to break, because he’s doing things to embarrass me or make me feel fat – like telling me to watch how many calorific drinks I consume at parties or when he begrudges me a pizza and a sit down.

  On the night we met, I thought maybe we had some things in common, but as time has gone by, I have realised that I was wrong. One of the first things that impressed me about Alan was the fact that he was a Baz Luhrmann fan. It has since come to my attention that he was faking it, and simply read his name off the DVD box to try and impress me – which explains why he couldn’t pronounce his name, and why he seemed so confused by people knowing all the words to an Elton John song in France in 1900.

  ‘And don’t think I didn’t see that bar of chocolate in the fridge,’ he continues. ‘I’d bet everything I had on that being yours.’