‘Well,’ he said, stretching his long pinstripe-clad legs out beneath their tiny table, ‘it seems sounlikely. We’re a good match, we’re of a certain age, I think we want the same things … I have a great career and plenty of savings, and I already own my flat. Plus, I’ve been told I’m fairly easy on the eye.’
He winked theatrically as he said this, then drank from his bottle again.Ick.
‘Laurence,’ Rachel said, doing her best to keep her voice even, ‘I’m sorry, but none of those are good reasons to start building a life with someone.’
Laurence frowned, narrowed his eyes a little and said, ‘Of course they are. Where’s your head? I thought you were more sensible than this, Rach.’
‘More sensible than what?’
‘Well … More sensible than to put yourself back out there when you’re approaching midlife. I don’t want to be a dick about this, but I think I’m a pretty decent catch. What makes you think you’re going to do any better? Bit risky binning me off, I’d say, if you want marriage and children.’
Rachel put her wine glass down as gently as she could. If she kept hold of it, she was definitely going to throw its contents in his face.
‘Laurence, I’m afraid youarebeing a dick about this. A massive one. If I hurt you when I finished things, I apologise – I never meant to. But we’re not right together. This –us– was never going to work.’
‘And you think it’ll be better to try and pick up some new guy in a bar? Download a bunch of dating apps? Spend half your life playing spot-the-fake-profile-photo and deleting endless unsolicited dick pics?’ Laurence’s voice was getting louder now. Rachel cringed as the barmaid who’d poured their drinks looked over at him, wide-eyed.
‘Laurence,’ she said, quiet and firm. ‘Stop. I think we’re done here.’ His lips curled into something like a sneer, but before he could spit out a reply she cut him off. ‘I’m genuinely sorry, but I don’t love you and I know I never will. You need to let this go.’
‘Who said anything about love? I’m talking about a solid future, a lifestyle. What’slovegot to do with anything?’
He said the word as if he were jeering at something made-up – a fiction that only callow idiots believed in.
‘Oh my God, Laurence.Everything,’ Rachel said. She stood up, then bent to grope for her coat, laptop and bag. Laurence’s legs were idling in the way, and she shoved them so hard he almost tipped off his seat.
‘Bloody hell!’ he hissed. ‘Go, then. But I give you a month, tops, before you’re texting me again. Just let me know when you’ve realised you want me back. I guess you’ll have to hope I’m still available.’
He drank what was left of his lager in one gulp, then shrugged his shoulders in a way that managed to seem both adolescent and aggressive.
Rachel felt sick. She was seething. She also thought she might cry.
How could Laurence – inoffensive, mild-mannered, basil-growingLaurence– be saying these things to her? Had he always been this arrogant, this awful? If he had, how had she not seen it?
Rachel didn’t want Laurence to have the last word, but had no idea how to claim it for herself. She couldn’t think of anything bad enough to call him.
Then her phone started ringing, loud and insistent. It must be Anna. Thankfuckfor Anna. Rachel thought for a moment about how her best friend would handle this, and suddenly knew what to do.
‘Find someone else, Laurence. Move on,’ she said in her coolest, most dignified voice. ‘I wish you the best.’
Then she turned away, began marching briskly towards the door and answered her mobile.
‘Rach? Are you there?’
‘Yes, just walking fast.Tom?’
‘Yeah, it’s me, sorry. I’m on Anna’s phone. She told me to call you – said something about an emergency exit strategy. She’s busy cooking and didn’t trust me to stir the pan.’ He laughed.
‘S’okay,’ Rachel said. Her breathing was shallow and her chest felt tight. A high, stinging ache at the back of her throat warned her that a sob was trying to break free.
‘Hey,’ Tom said, ‘what’s happened? Where are you?’
‘I’m fine,’ Rachel insisted, but her voice cracked a little. ‘I’m on my way home.’
‘You’renotfine,’ he replied, almost in a growl. ‘What’s happened? Do you want me to come and meet you?’
‘No, really – I’m almost at the Tube. I’ll be okay, I’ve just had a shitter of a day … Topped off by a run-in with Laurence, who informs naive little me that love isn’t real. Also that I was insane to dump him because – and I’m pretty much quoting here – I’ll never find anyone better.’
‘Fucking hell, what atoolthat man is,’ Tom said. Rachel felt her face twitch, a smile trying to form. He and Laurence had never hit it off. ‘Don’t give him another thought,’ Tom went on. ‘He knows nothing about you, nothing about relationships …Nothingabout who might be out there waiting for you.Lozknows nothing about anything,’he fumed, ‘except perhaps pensions. I suppose he knows a fuckload about pensions.’
