Beth O'Leary - The Flatshare

Me: Hi, Gerty, it’s Leon.

Gerty: Leon, there is no news. The judges have not called us back for a verdict. If the judges call us back for a verdict, I will call you, and then you will know about it. You do not need to call me to check in.

Me: Right. Sure. Sorry.

Gerty, relenting: I suspect it will be tomorrow.

Me: Tomorrow.

Gerty: It’s like today, but plus one.

Me: Today plus one. Yes.

Gerty: Don’t you have a hobby or something?

Me: Not really. Sort of just work all the time, generally.

Gerty: Well, you live with Tiffy. There will be no shortage of hobby-related reading material. Go read a book about crochet or building things out of cardboard or whatever.

Me: Thanks, Gerty.

Gerty: You’re welcome. And stop calling me, I am very busy.

She hangs up. It’s still a little unnerving when she does that, no matter how many times you’ve endured it.

I can’t believe Martin had the guts to come in to work. I always had him down as a coward, but actually, of the two of us, I seem the most nervous about facing him. It’s like . . . talking to Justin by proxy. Which is frankly terrifying, no matter how much I tell Leon I’m feeling fine. Martin, on the other hand, is swanning about as usual, gloating about the success story of the party. I guess he probably doesn’t know I know yet.

He’s yet to mention the proposal, I notice. Nobody in the office has. Rachel put out the memo that I wasn’t actually engaged, which has at least saved me a morning of warding off congratulations.

Rachel [10:06]: I could just walk over, kick him in the balls, and we’d be done with it.

Tiffany [10:07]: Tempting.

Tiffany [10:10]: I don’t know why I’m being such a wuss. I had this conversation totally planned out in my head yesterday. Seriously, I had some great one-line putdowns cued up. And now they’ve just gone, and I feel a bit freaked out.

Rachel [10:11]: What would Someone Who Isn’t Mo say, do you reckon?

Tiffany [10:14]: Lucie? She’d tell me it’s natural to be freaked out after what happened on Friday, I guess. And that talking to Martin feels a bit like confronting Justin.

Rachel [10:15]: Right, I can see that, except . . . Martin is Martin. Weedy, petty, malicious Martin. Who kicks my chair and undermines you in meetings and kisses the head of PR’s arse like it’s Megan Fox’s face.

Tiffany [10:16]: You’re right. How can I possibly be afraid of Martin?

Rachel [10:17]: Want me to come with you?

Tiffany [10:19]: Is it pathetic if I say yes?

Rachel [10:20] It would make my day.

Tiffany [10:21]: Then yes. Please.

We wait until the morning team meeting is over. I grit my teeth through all the congratulations Martin gets for the party. A few curious glances are shot in my direction, but it’s glossed over. I flush with shame anyway. I hate that everyone in this room knows that I have ex-boyfriend drama. I bet they’re all concocting their own outlandish reasons why I am no longer engaged, and not one of them has come up with the truth.

Rachel grabs my hand and squeezes it tightly, then gives me a little shove in Martin’s direction as he gathers up his notebook and papers.

‘Martin, can we have a word?’ I say.

‘Not a great time, Tiffy,’ he says, with the air of a very important person who rarely has time for spontaneous meetings.

‘Martin, mate, either you step into this meeting room with us or we adopt my plan, which was kicking you in the balls right now in front of everyone,’ Rachel says.

A flash of fear crosses his face, and my anxiety evaporates. Look at him. He suspects we know now, so he’s back-peddling. Suddenly I can’t wait to hear what crap he comes up with.

Rachel herds him into the only free meeting room with a door and clicks it shut behind us. She leans back against it, arms folded.

‘What’s this about?’ Martin asks.

‘Why don’t you hazard a guess, Martin?’ I say. My voice comes out surprisingly light and pleasant.

‘I really have no idea,’ he blusters. ‘Is there a problem?’

‘If there is, how long will it be before Justin is informed of it?’ I ask.

Martin meets my gaze. He looks like a cornered cat.

‘I don’t know what you . . .’ he tries.

‘Justin told me. He’s fickle like that.’

Martin sags. ‘Look, I was trying to help you out,’ he says. ‘He got in touch about our flat back in February, saying he was helping you look for a place, and made a deal with us so we could offer you our spare room for five hundred a month.’

Back in February ? Bloody hell.

‘How did he even know who you were?’

‘We’ve been friends on Facebook for ages. I think he added me when you guys first got serious — at the time I figured he was checking out the guys you work with, you know, the protective type. But I posted the ad about the flat on there and that’s how he got in touch.’

‘How much did he offer you?’

‘He said he’d pay the difference,’ Martin says. ‘Hana and I thought it was sweet of him.’

‘Oh, that’s Justin,’ I say through gritted teeth.

‘And then when you didn’t take the room, he seemed so down. We’d got chatting when he popped around to discuss the arrangement, and then he asked if I could drop him a line every now and again, just letting him know how you are and what you’re up to so he doesn’t worry.’

‘And that didn’t strike you as, I don’t know, creepy ?’ Rachel asks.

‘No!’ Martin shakes his head. ‘It didn’t seem creepy. And he wasn’t paying me or anything — the only time I took money from him was to get Tasha Chai-Latte to come and film, OK?’

‘You took money from him for stalking Tiffy?’ Rachel says, visibly swelling with rage.

Martin cringes.

‘Hang on.’ I hold my hands up. ‘Go back to the start. He asked you to let him know where I was every now and then. So that’s how he knew I’d be at that book launch in Shoreditch, and how he knew I’d be on the cruise ship?’

‘I suppose so,’ Martin says. He shifts back and forth on his feet like a child who needs the toilet, and I find myself starting to feel a little sorry for him, which I immediately quash because the only thing getting me through this conversation is rage.

‘And the trip to Wales for the shoot?’ I say.

Martin visibly starts to sweat. ‘I, ah, he rang me about that one after I texted him to say where you’d be . . .’

I twitch. It’s so creepy I want to go and shower immediately.

‘. . . and he asked about the guy you’d be bringing to help out with the modelling. I gave him the physical description you’d given me. He went all quiet, and sounded really upset. He told me how much he still loved you, and how he knew this guy and he was going to ruin everything . . .’

‘So you spent the whole weekend running interference.’

‘I thought I was helping!’

‘Well, you sucked at it anyway, because we sneaked off and made out in the kitchen at three in the morning so HA!’ I say.

‘In danger of losing the higher ground, there, Tiffy,’ Rachel says.

‘Right, right. So, you debriefed Justin when we got back?’

‘Yeah. He wasn’t that happy with how I’d handled things. Suddenly I felt really bad, you know? I hadn’t done enough.’

‘Oh, this man is good ,’ Rachel says under her breath.

‘Anyway, then he wanted to plan this big proposal. It was all very romantic.’

‘Especially the part where he paid you to get Tasha Chai-Latte to film it,’ I say.

‘He said he wanted the whole world to see it!’ Martin protests.

‘He wanted Leon to see it. How much did that even cost? I should have known it couldn’t have come out of the book’s budget.’