Dany Atkins - Fractured

‘Just long enough for Matt to piss Jimmy off,’ I replied in a voice low enough for only her to hear. She smiled knowingly.

‘Oh, no time at all then!’

By now we had reached the patioed doorway at the rear of the restaurant and stood waiting while the various boys in our group of friends (Matt included) all tried to pretend that they were not noticing the extremely inviting cleavage being displayed by Cathy’s low-cut top. Worn over skin-tight jeans and high-heeled sandals (which, to Sarah’s chagrin, she appeared to have no difficulty walking in), Cathy looked every inch as though she was off to a photo shoot. Long blonde hair fell around her shoulders and everything about her seemed so perfectly put together that I instantly felt as though I’d gotten dressed in the dark with clothes that’d been thrown out from a charity shop!

Cathy had been a fairly new addition to our circle of friends. Prior to her arrival into our Sixth Form, our group had been a tight unit of Sarah and I and the four boys. I suppose the boy-girl ratio had been a bit unbalanced, but we’d all been mates for so long that hadn’t been an issue. That said, Cathy’s slow inclusion into our group had been welcomed quite vigorously by pretty much all of the boys, for obvious reasons. And looks aside, Cathy was good fun to have around. Her family had moved to Great Bishopsford from a much larger town, and she had seemed much more worldly and clued-up than the rest of us. Added to that, she was extremely open and friendly with a wicked sense of humour and, when she wasn’t flirting outrageously with every male within a five mile radius, I actually really liked her.

Sarah though had her reservations, and on more than one occasion, when Cathy had ruffled her feathers or stepped on her toes, I had heard her mutter darkly, ‘Last in. First out.’

When Jimmy sauntered across the car park to join us, Sarah stepped to one side and began to peruse the menu displayed inside a glassed-in case by the doorway. The others had all walked over to admire Matt’s car, or Cathy’s chest I thought waspishly, as I watched her bend down low to supposedly examine the alloy wheels. As if she cared about wheels!

‘You look much nicer than her,’ Jimmy whispered into my ear, knowing instantly what was on my mind.

‘Am I that easy to read?’ I asked, smiling back up at him. He gave me the grin I knew so well, the one that crinkled up the corners of his eyes and lit up his whole face.

‘Like a book,’ he confirmed, ‘but a good one.’

‘Like a battered old paperback you mean, rather than a glossy magazine.’

He followed both my eyes and my analogy as we both looked across to where Cathy was standing with Matt, listening raptly while he extolled something or other about the car.

‘You don’t have anything to worry about,’ Jimmy reassured me, giving my shoulder a brief friendly squeeze. ‘Matt would be crazy to look at her when he’s got you.’

‘Hmm,’ was all I managed in reply and was surprised to feel that the warmth of his words had ignited a small blush which I quickly turned away to avoid him seeing.

Catching my reflection in the restaurant’s window I didn’t feel my old friend was being entirely honest. Or if he was, then he seriously should think about getting his eyes tested. What I saw in the reflected glass was certainly never going to elicit the kind of reaction from men that Cathy did. Long dark hair, fashionably poker straight, big eyes (that hardly functioned at all without their contact lenses) and lips that were a little too wide. It was a pleasant enough face, but not stunning and I was honest enough to know I was never going to stop traffic. And that had truly never worried me before, but since being with Matt, who was, let’s face it, undeniably gorgeous, I seemed more aware than ever of some of the shortcomings Mother Nature had dished up.

‘And just remember, to me you’ll always be the freckly-faced girl with the gap in her front teeth, whose ears stuck out.’

‘I was ten years old then,’ I protested. ‘Thank God for orthodontistry. Do you really have to remember every damn thing about my geeky childhood?’

‘I can’t help myself,’ Jimmy replied oddly. And I would have pursued that strange comment, if we hadn’t just then been joined by the others.

‘C’mon then,’ urged Matt, grabbing my hand and holding it tightly, ‘Let’s go before they give our table to someone else.’

We walked en masse through the large double doors, arms linked or thrown casually around a neighbouring shoulder, never realising that in the next half hour our lives were going to be irrevocably changed for ever.

We were led straight away to our table, which was situated at the very front of the restaurant, beside a large plate-glass window, where we had an excellent view of the high street and the church perched high up on the hill nearby. As we wove between the other tables to reach our seats, I could see Cathy drawing several appreciative glances from the male diners and I was pretty certain that Matt too hadn’t passed among the women unnoticed. I tried to stifle that small worried voice that had been whispering in my ear for several months.

Matt was a very attractive guy; he naturally drew the attention of other women, it was only to be expected, and while part of me relished the fact that it was my side he was standing by; my hand that he held in his as we slalomed between the closely-packed tables, there was an unspoken worry that sooner or later I would have to address: what would happen when he was faced with inevitable temptation when we were apart? Would we be one of the couples who survived the university separation, or were we destined to become victims to the curse of the long-distance relationship?

I was pleased this line of thinking was interrupted by the softly-accented Italian waiter, indicating we had arrived at our reserved table. Tight for space in the crowded restaurant, they had pushed two tables together to accommodate our party, which resulted in rather a narrow gap by a concrete pillar which had to be squeezed past in order to reach the seat beside the window.

Wishing Sarah had got there first, she was much smaller than me, I nevertheless managed to manoeuvre through the gap without getting embarrassingly stuck. Matt slid into the chair beside me, as the others all found a place and sat down. Jimmy took the window seat directly opposite me, with Sarah claiming the chair on his right-hand side. I refused to look at the undignified scrabble of who was sitting by Cathy on the other side of Matt. I guessed pole position was opposite her anyway, with its excellent view down the front of her top. Surreptitiously, under cover of the tablecloth, I tugged down on the hem of my own

T-shirt, lowering the neckline by an inch or two: then felt myself blushing like an idiot as I saw Jimmy’s quivering lips as he noticed what I’d done.

‘What’s so funny, Jimmy?’ Matt asked and suddenly, by some horrible coincidence, the whole table fell silent to hear his response. I knew my eyes were frantically telegraphing him not to say anything, and I needn’t have worried. Jimmy calmly picked up the menu and gave a casual shrug.

‘Nothing, just thinking of something my uncle said earlier, that’s all.’

While everyone else followed Jimmy’s lead and began to study their menus, I looked across and mouthed a silent ‘thank you’. The smile he gave me back, was so full of warm affection and friendship, that for some strange reason my stomach gave an erratic flip. Confused, I broke eye contact and pretended to be deeply interested in the merits of the lasagne versus the cannelloni.

Matt’s arm snaked around my waist, pulling me against him as we chose our meal and when I did look over to Jimmy a few minutes later, he was deep in conversation with Sarah, and although he caught my glance and gave me a small smile, my stomach remained exactly where it should have been.