Page 55 of Wish You Were Here
Abigail takes a sip of her drink, then the doorbell goes, and so she doesn’t have time to answer my question. I answer the door, and it’s Will, Poppy, Hugh, and then finally Jemma. Everyone arrives together, and suddenly the flat feels very small – in more ways than one. Simon reappears all dressed up in a suit for his screening event, and we all go through into the living room, where the table of food looks fantastic, and the TV is ready to show Simon’s video. Jemma looks terrific in a lovely dress, and I know that I am a lucky man. After my disastrous relationship with Saffy, a couple of unsuccessful blind-dates and a pitiful parkrun, to find myself in a relationship with someone as amazing as Jemma feels like a stroke of pure luck. I am trying to remind myself of this as we tuck into the food and Abigail passes around drinks.
‘This spread is phenomenal,’ says Hugh, who is wearing quite a jaunty bow tie.
‘It was all Abigail,’ says Simon.
‘Well done, Abs!’ says Hugh. ‘What are these little things?’
‘Those are Camembert bites with an onion, chive and garlic dip.’
‘Absolutely delightful,’ says Hugh.
‘If you like those, you should try the vintage Cheddar and caramelised onion quiche. It’s mind-blowing,’ says Abs, ‘especially with the chutney.’
Hugh searches the table before he finds the vintage Cheddar and caramelised onion quiche, balances a small spoonful of chutney on top, and takes a bite. ‘Oh my, that is delicious! The sharpness of the Cheddar against the sweetness of the caramelised onions is—’
‘A real triumph?’ says Abigail.
‘Yes!’ says Hugh, who seems overwhelmed with all the food options. Will is on a high-protein diet as he is in training, and so he goes for straight meat. So, while Hugh is stacking his plate full of quiche, crisps, dip and other delectable high-carb, high-fat canapes, Will is tucking into a small pile of Italian prosciutto and British ham.
Jemma is standing with her arm around me, while I am trying to think of the exact words I could use to describe my relationship with Saskia, when Simon tells us he will start the video in about ten minutes. The thing is, just the fact that Saskia and I are friends at all is a bit out of the ordinary, but the fact we message and FaceTime so regularly, and obviously my feelings towards her too, and it’s such a mess. How is it possible to describe an indefinable relationship?
‘It’s a shame Maddie couldn’t be here,’ says Will.
‘It is,’ replies Simon. ‘She’s shooting in Ireland this week, then she’s off to Australia.’
‘Busy girl,’ says Will.
‘What’s she doing in Australia?’ asks Poppy.
‘Something in Sydney. A collaboration with an Aussie company. Something to do with food, travel, sunglasses, I think. Vegemite might be involved. I really don’t know.’
‘Sydney. Isn’t that where your Australian friend lives?’ says Hugh suddenly, and everyone goes quiet, and the tension in the room is palpable because everyone, except Jemma, obviously, knows about Saskia. They also know that I haven’t yet told Jemma about Saskia. It’s my dirty little secret, and Hugh has just outed me in public. I am suddenly hot, my heart is racing, I feel sick to my stomach, and I look at Hugh with a sort of ‘WHAT THE FUCK, MAN?!’ expression on my face. Hugh gets a swift elbow in the ribs from Poppy. Realising what he has said,he attempts to redeem himself. ‘I mean, obviously, I don’t know what I am talking about.’
‘Oh, nice save,’ says Poppy sarcastically.
The room is silent because all my friends and sister know the score, and so they, like me, are waiting for the obvious question from Jemma that comes swiftly with a look of confusion because she can clearly detect the sudden amount of tension in the room.
‘What friend in Australia?’ asks Jemma.
‘Let’s start the video!’ says Simon abruptly. ‘Abigail, curtains, please!’
‘Righto!’ says Abigail, dashing across to close the curtains, and it seems, for the time being at least, Simon has given me a little bit of time to get my story straight. The curtains are closed, Simon is fiddling around on his laptop, which is connected to the television, and we all find somewhere to sit. After a minute, Simon stands up, makes a small speech, thanks everyone for coming, and he hopes we enjoy the video, which is twenty minutes long. Twenty minutes to sit next to Jemma and think up an answer to her question.
The video is excellent, and I can see why he was so excited to work with Maddie because she is funny, articulate and a natural in front of the camera. She is the perfect presenter for the show, and I can see from Simon’s face that he is chuffed at what they created together. The editing is sharp, crisp and it has a professional, contemporary feel to it, which is heightened with some quality music. It is a brilliant piece of filmmaking, but unfortunately, it’s hard to really enjoy it because the whole time I am sitting next to Jemma, who keeps looking at me with an expression of concern. Finally, the video ends, we all clap, the curtains are opened, and Jemma asks me if we can have a chat in my bedroom. I agree, and as we walk out of the room, everyone is watching us with looks of trepidation on their faces. It feelslike I am walking to the gallows, although obviously with far less dire or final consequences.
I close the door behind us, and before I can speak, Jemma says.
‘What’s going on, Benji? Who is your Australian friend and why was everyone being so weird about it?’
Jemma is many things, but perceptive is near the top of the list. Although everyone was being so obviously strange about the whole thing, it wouldn’t have required Sherlock Holmes, or indeed any fictional detective, to figure it out. We sit on my bed. Here goes nothing.
‘Jem, I should have told you about Saskia before, but I wasn’t really sure how to describe our relationship.’
‘Relationship?’ says Jemma, clearly confused. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Not like that. Not relationship in the, you know, girlfriend, boyfriend sense of the word relationship. Not like a romantic relationship. I should probably stop saying relationship so much because it’s getting super weird. Right, so this is what happened,’ I say, and then I go on to tell her all about Saskia, how we met because of a silly incorrect email, how we began emailing, FaceTiming and what has happened since. I explain that we have a connection, we get on, but also that nothing is going to happen because she lives in Australia, so she doesn’t have to worry about it. It’s just a strange thing in my life I can’t explain, but I hope she is okay with it.
After a moment of tense silence, Jemma turns to me and asks me the most awkward, difficult to answer question I can think of – and probably the exact question I would have asked her if our roles were reversed.
