‘Someone’s here who I wasn’t expecting to see,’ I explain.
Going to a restaurant with Sam Charlton is a total nightmare. When he agreed enthusiastically to come along and enjoy what he described as a ‘normal night out’, finallymeeting one of my friends, I had to abide by his usual list of demands, which aren’t unreasonable, given how recognisable Sam’s becoming since he started presenting a new entertainment TV show. We didn’t grab a taxi. Instead a private car picked both of us up and delivered us to the back entrance of the restaurant. But prior to that, Liv had to move her party to a different restaurant entirely, because the one she’d chosen didn’t have a private dining room. While Sam doesn’t mind being spotted drinking in a bar in the wild, he doesn’t likeeatingin public. I’m getting used to all of this, but switching restaurants for someone else’s birthday felt a little off.
But when I tentatively asked Liv if it was OK to change restaurants so that Sam could come, she was over the moon. And now we’re here and Liv bounces over, eyes wide and lashes flickering excitedly at Sam’s presence. Heads begin to turn.
‘Thank you so much for coming. I’m so excited you’re here,’ she tells Sam, without introducing herself. ‘I’m such a fan.Sucha fan.’
‘This is Liv,’ I say as my friend completely ignores me.
‘Hi, Liv, it’s lovely to meet you. Happy birthday. Thanks for having me,’ Sam replies, oozing charm.
‘I’m so excited you’re here,’ Liv blurts again.
‘Hi, Liv,’ I say pointedly, ‘happy birthday.’
We give each other a tight hug and I hand over her present, a Breitling watch that Sam helped me choose. I instruct Liv not to open it in front of other guests, because it’s ostentatious, but I know she’ll secretly love wearing it. I’m lucky I can afford it, but I know not everyone can. Sam didn’t bat aneyelid at the amount I put on my Amex. That kind of money is a drop in the ocean to him, clearly. I hope he realises how lucky he is to be making silly money. I realise how luckyIam.
Sam came with me to buy Liv’s gift yesterday. He booked a driver and we crawled through traffic to get to Bond Street, whereas I’d have jumped on the bus or the Tube. He was having none of that. Life in the fast lane can be insanely slow with Sam.
Liv introduces us to her other friends – work colleagues she’s close to and people from her course that I recognise but haven’t seen in years, so I’ve obviously forgotten most of their names. Sam shakes hands with the men, who eye him with a mix of admiration and wariness. I can tell no one wants this man near their wife or girlfriend, especially when Sam kisses the girls – who can’t get enough of him – on the cheek.
Ollie shakes his hand stiffly, mumbles a hello and moves off so that others can swarm around Sam. I can’t work out if Sam’s enjoying the attention or if he’s hating it. But he knew there would be about twenty people here tonight, as he made me ask Liv what he should expect from the evening.
Liv instructs us to take our seats and there are name-place cards to show where we’re sitting in this elegant space. High chandeliers and huge gold baroque-looking candlesticks adorn the space. The menu is French as Liv couldn’t find an Italian place with a private dining room at such short notice, and I feel for her having to coordinate a fresh venue at the last minute. This is probably not even remotely the menu she wanted, but she said it didn’t matter because ‘It’s not a special birthday. Not thirty. Not yet.’
Thirty! God, I can’t even comprehend how we’re all turning thirty in a couple of years. I feel like five minutes ago I was eighteen years old and falling down the stairs on that first day at uni. Falling with Ollie, being caught by Ollie. Meeting Ben. All of it.
The door opens and Ben enters, late as usual, and I notice he’s alone. He gives Liv the biggest hug, accompanied by the largest bunch of flowers I’ve ever seen. The entire bunch is white and is littered with huge hydrangeas. Ben is ridiculously smooth sometimes. Liv’s positioned him next to a woman who I think is also flying solo, and Ben looks overjoyed to see that Liv’s mate is a tall, attractive blonde. He introduces himself, glancing around briefly as we settle in with small talk, acknowledging me and giving me big, wide, excited eyes as he jolts his head twice to indicate that he’s just spotted Sam, who is now busy talking to Liv on his right. I give Ben a brief wide-eyed glare that says,Don’t say anything silly.Ben retracts his neck a bit and returns the look with his own frown:As if I would.
I’m too wrapped up in my silent communications back and forth with Ben to notice Ollie sitting down next to me on my other side, until he says a simple ‘Hi’. He looks at his champagne glass rather than at me.
‘Hi,’ I reply slowly and turn my attention to him, although he won’t look at me.
The strange feeling hasn’t gone away on seeing Ollie. Instead it’s intensified. Anger that he hung up on me; hurt that he ignored me for so long the first time and has done so again; and confusion as to what is going on, to have madeus so uncommunicative with each other when we used to be best friends.
‘Fine,’ I say in a huff when he still won’t look at me or say anything else.
Ollie sighs his own huff of frustration, but we’re saved by a waiter taking drinks orders. I order a gin and tonic and glance over at Ben, wondering if he’s going to be OK among so many people drinking. I can’t see what he’s ordering from over here.
I notice Ollie watching Ben, though.
‘Ben told me he’s quit,’ I say, because I need to say something and we can’t sit in silence all night.
‘He has,’ Ollie confirms. ‘He’s doing well.’
‘Great,’ I reply stiffly. Silence.Oh, this is odd.To my right Sam’s in full conversation with Liv and I’m pleased they’re getting on so well. I probably didn’t need to buy her the watch. I could have got away with bringing Sam as her present.
‘How have you been?’ Ollie asks.
I give him my full attention again and he turns to look at me properly. He’s so close; his dark eyes look tired and I notice he’s got two little lines at the side of his eyes that weren’t there when I last saw him. We’re ageing. Slowly but surely. Or maybe Ollie is. His days are hard. Mine are not. Or maybe he smiles so much that he’s forced laughter lines into the creases of his eyes. Maybe I don’t smile enough.
He’s not smiling now, though. He doesn’t smile around me. He just looks intense. What was Liv talking about: worrying about how he looks at me? Almost every chat we’ve ever had has been Ollie trying to offer me advice about something.Often it was advice I didn’t want to take on board, but I always needed to hear it all the same. He looks at me seriously now, as if I’m an inconvenience. He has always looked at me like that, I think.
‘How have I been?’ I repeat incredulously. ‘Are you joking? You’d know, if you’d talk to me.’
He swallows. ‘I’m talking to you now,’ he says quietly.
‘Whatever,’ I reply, like a teenager with an attitude problem.
