I pointedly avoided meeting her eyes. If she said another word I would start humming. Childish, I know, but I hatedtalking about Mike. Not because it still hurt, but because it was totally embarrassing. How could I have been so stupid?
In exasperation she slammed her glass down, the dregs of her drink splashing over my hand that was busily shredding a beer mat.
‘For God’s sake. You’re so stubborn. Don’t pretend. It still bothers you.’
‘I have to go,’ I said coolly, gathering up my mobile phone and purse, shoving them into my handbag. ‘Early start tomorrow. A meeting in Derby. I need to leave early. I’ll call.’ After Daniel’s words the other night I was still feeling a bit raw. I couldn’t handle a heart-to-heart session with Kate just now.
‘That is so typical. Just bury your head in the sand. You need to talk about it. You’re in denial,’ she snapped.
‘Denial, schmial... you’re not a bloody psychologist. There’s nothing to talk about. You, Mum and Aunty Bren are the ones with the hang-up. Having a boyfriend who drives a Porsche and gets a massive bonus every year, is not a marker of success,’ I said, having a little dig at Kate. ‘It doesn’t mean you’ve made it.’
With that I pulled on my jacket, swung my legs off the stool and left to her parting shot that I was a stubborn pain in the proverbial.
* * *
As I stomped down Long Acre heading for Leicester Square tube I felt pissed off. Thinking about Mike always left me feeling churned up. He’d made such a fool of me.
No one was going to do that to me again and, by the same token, I couldn’t do it to anyone else. Trust. Honesty. They made up my moral compass, but Mike had sent everything West.
Striding down the platform I glared at every man whose eye I happened to catch. When the train pulled in, I threw myself into a seat and brooded on the past.
In my second year at university I’d been swept off my feet, quite literally, by the Brad Pitt of the campus. Mike was the kind of guy that everyone went ‘phwoar’ about, even though none of us had ever spoken to him. He could have had serious halitosis or a major speech impediment for all we knew.
The memories flooded back as the train pulled out of Leicester Square, plunging into the tunnel and picking up speed. I could still remember my first encounter with Mike. I’d been waiting for a free table in the campus coffee bar and I dived in to bag one at the same moment as him. He refused to move unless I went on a date with him. I refused point blank on principle and also because he was far too good-looking to taking seriously. What would a guy like him see in me. So we had an hour and a half standoff in the coffee bar where he subjected me to a barrage of charm — in hindsight, I don’t think anyone had ever turned him down before.
Looking around the carriage I caught the eye of a teenage girl opposite, who gave me a funny look. Had I been talking to myself while remembering all this? Even now the memories gave me goosebumps.
She must have thought I was a nutter. If only the rest of the memories were as nice. At first I got the fairy-tale ending when Mike and I became a couple. He was kind, attentive and did I mention it, very good looking. And it was so easy, no niggles, no jealousies and no hidden agendas. I should have known it was too good to be true.
Ironically at the same time, Daniel split up with his girlfriend, thus starting a pattern where he and I were never single at the same time until the evening he and Emily had got together. I’d been so hopeful that our relationship might finally change that night.
In flagrante delictoalways sounds vaguely amusing; a situation comedy moment, with people hopping about with oneleg in their trousers. In reality it’s anything but funny. It’s about as bloody unfunny as things get.
Even now gazing at my reflection in the tube window, I could still feel the dismay at the sight of those lovely, muscled buttocks rhythmically heaving, all graphic and porn film... with someone else.
I pulled a face at myself. Stupid cow. Any feisty film heroine worth her expensive lingerie would have charged in, slapped his arse smartly, yelling, ‘You bastard’. Not me, I crept away unnoticed. Numb. In shock.
Embarrassed I looked around the carriage. The girl was openly sniggering. Bloody typical. Even now, eight years later, I was making myself look stupid over Mike. I’d had other boyfriends but I’d always made sure I kept things light and superficial. No chance of getting hurt that way. Unfortunately, light and superficial had worn thin of late. I wanted more. Through the window I could see the word Embankment. I needed to keep my wits about me. I hadn’t realised we were nearly at Waterloo.
I remembered Mike’s face when he realised I knew.
‘Busy weekend?’ I’d asked coolly, when he’d finally turned up at my door.
‘No, not really,’ he’d said smiling, charming as ever. ‘I had to get an essay done. Sorry babes, meant to call you but spent the whole weekend holed up in my room, burning the midnight oil to get it finished.’
‘Really, and here I was thinking you’d spent the whole weekend shagging some strange redhead,’ I snapped viciously.
Shock registered in his face as his eyes widened. The big, fat, lying, slimy git.
‘Mike, you didn’t lock your door,’ I’d told him with quiet despair.
It turned out that the girl with red hair, Tracey, had planned her visit as a surprise. She’d certainly accomplished that goal. She was the girl from his hometown, the one he’d been seeing since they were both sixteen. Fed up with Mike’s constant excuses of a huge workload, she’d arrived unannounced. Mm, that would be the workload that involved three hours of lectures a week, fifty-three down the pub and the rest shagging me.
Scowling, I pulled myself out of my seat as we drew into Waterloo. It wasn’t that I harboured any feelings for the bastard. It was the deceit. Would I have ever known if I hadn’t caught him? Never once had it occurred to me that there might be a Tracey waiting for him at home at the end of every term. I was, inadvertently, the other woman. Me! That was the ultimate irony. Fidelity ranked number one on my list of relationship prerequisites and another reason that made anything with Daniel impossible. He was Emily’s now.
I weaved my way along the platform heading up to the mainline station feeling depressed and cross with myself. Time to change things. I would go out for that drink with Ned. I ought to give him a chance, after all, three minutes was hardly any time.
* * *
