Page 80 of One Step Behind
‘No, of course not. I just thought you wouldn’t be up for it.’
‘I’m not really, but she’s my best friend.’
He nods before collecting his book from the counter and stepping into the garden. I watch him leave and feel yesterday’s argument lingering between us like a bad taste in my mouth.
I spend the afternoon locked in a three-hour battle of Monopoly with Beth and Archie, pretending the sleeping tablet helped, pretending not to be scared by last night, pretending everything is fine again. It’s good to see them both laugh, especially Beth, when I land on her Mayfair hotel.
By the time I leave the house Stuart is humming again and kisses me goodbye. ‘You look gorgeous,’ he says with an admiring glance to my black maxi dress. ‘Have a good time.’
I walk fast, glancing behind me every few steps and wishing I’d got a taxi. By the time I arrive in the high street I’m red-faced and clammy all over.
The shops are closed, shutters down and dark. Only the yellow arches of McDonald’s glow bright. But the place is still buzzing with people. Teenagers huddle in groups around benches, smoking and taking selfies. I cut down a side road where three men with bare chests stagger in the direction of the seafront. It’s like a Spanish holiday resort except for the ugly grey buildings and the scratchy fumes from the passing buses.
My pulse quickens as the men weave into my path. I look behind me. The street is deserted. My muscles tighten, my hands balling into fists. I try to step out oftheir way but they separate, staggering across the pavement. One drops off the kerb and they laugh like a pack of cartoon hyenas.
Only after they pass by do I breathe again.
The King’s Arms is on a corner plot, one road back from the main high street. Bus stops line one side of the road beside delivery bays for the shops. The pavement is covered with bird crap. Stale scents hang in the air. Stale food, stale bodies, stale everything.
The pub is busy. The noise and the people have spilled out on to the pavement. The beat of unrecognizable dance music fills my ears as I fight my way through the door.
Every table is filled with people shouting at each other to be heard. Others linger in the middle of the floor, drinks in hand, one eye on the door to check out the newcomers and one eye on the tables, waiting to pounce should one become free.
I’m smacked with nostalgia the moment I push through the crowds. I met Stuart in this bar, on a night just like this one, and we danced and talked for hours. I thought it was just for fun. Someone like Stuart – the rugged builder, up for a laugh, always smiling – and me, fiercely driven and serious. But after that night Stuart asked me for dinner and I said yes. Stuart has never understood my drive, my desire to save people, but it never used to feel like it mattered.
‘Jenna,’ a voice shouts, interrupting my thoughts. Diya’s slender arm shoots in the air from one of the booths by the windows. She leaps up and wraps her arms around me, holding me tight for a second. ‘I’m so glad you came,’ she shouts in my ear.
‘Me too,’ I lie.
‘You look gorgeous.’
I pull a face. ‘You’re the one who looks gorgeous.’ And she does. Diya is wearing her favourite polka-dot red dress and is radiating energy. ‘Happy Birthday,’ I say, handing her a neatly wrapped box.
She opens the box and squeals at the simple gold chain with a lightning-bolt charm at the end. ‘I love it,’ she says, just like I knew she would. ‘Thank you.’
Diya pulls me to the table and I smile at the people sitting around it. Eight altogether. A mix of doctors and Diya’s friends I’ve met before. Thomas Carrick is wedged right in the corner, looking out of place among the others. His face lights up when he sees me and he waves.
Diya follows my gaze to Thomas and laughs. ‘I invited him along to break him in a bit. He’s so nervous all the time,’ she says in my ear, ‘and besides, he’s rather cute too.’
‘My round then,’ I call out, pasting a smile on my face.
There’s a ripple of approval and I take requests. A bottle of white wine, two pints of lager, three gin and tonics. Diya offers to come with me but I shoo her away. ‘It’s your birthday,’ I shout.
I repeat the drinks order in my head as I push through the crowd and join the throng waiting at the bar. The hairs on the back of my neck tickle and I glance around me suddenly, searching for the eyes on me.
No one is looking my way.
I need to relax. That’s why I’ve come out tonight, isn’t it? To relax? Or have I just come to prove to Stuart that I’m fine? I wish the music wasn’t so loud. The beat of it is pulsing through me, rattling my bones.
I reach the edge of the bar and squeeze myself inbetween a hen party wearing pink fluffy tiaras and dresses made out of toilet roll, and three girls in boob tubes and miniskirts who are too young to be here and hiding their age behind fake eyelashes and heavy make-up. I stare for a second too long at one of the girls, my insides knotting as I think of Beth. The girl catches my eye and looks at me with a resting bitch face before turning to her friends and laughing.
It takes an age to get served. Younger, prettier people with wide smiles and flirty eyes catch the bar staff’s attention long before I’m able to. In the end it’s Thomas Carrick who comes to the rescue. Pushing up beside me and shouting a loud ‘Oi’ at one of the men behind the bar.
‘Thanks,’ I say after our order is taken.
‘Purely selfish reasons. I wanted my pint,’ he says, making me laugh. ‘It’s really good to see you, Jenna. The hospital is boring without you.’
Thomas takes the two pints and I take the wine and gin and tonics on a tray. I’m almost at the table when I spot Christie just ahead of me. I shout a ‘Hello, fancy seeing you here’. She turns, her expression sheepish.
