Jamie Holland - One Thing Leads to Another

‘Guess what?’ said Flin in muffled tones from the hands-free microphone.

‘What?’

‘I’ve bumped into a gorgeous old friend from home and she’s invited me to her place for the weekend.’

‘Bastard! How’d you manage that?’

Flin told the story of his encounter for the second time.

‘Bastard!’ Geordie said again. ‘I knew you’d be first off the mark. And we’ve only been in the house half a week.’

‘Well, yes, obviously the pressure’s really on for you now.’

‘This better not stop you from helping out with painting the house.’

‘Course not, but if you think I’m going to turn down a weekend in the country because you want me to do DIY, think again.’

Flin’s upbeat mood did nothing to improve Geordie’s. What was wrong with him? Why this lean patch? If anything, it used to be the other way round: he was constantly going out with someone while Flin less frequently did. This was because Flin was nearly always chasing after people who were completely unobtainable. Whenever Geordie pointed this out, Flin would invariably reply, ‘But I’m in love, and I can’t help how I feel.’ It had been the same at school, Geordie remembered. Flin had been madly in love with a girl in the year above who simply wasn’t interested. Meanwhile, Kate Rodgers had been desperate for him. Flin had forever had plenty of girls after him: after all, he was a popular person, always had been. Geordie felt ever so slightly jealous of his oldest friend’s easy charm and ability to be liked by just about everyone. Even when they’d been little, Flin had been that little bit more popular than him, and nothing had changed since. Still, it had been great coming back from travelling into an even wider circle of friends, and for that he largely had Flin to thank.

Geordie had never really thought about being in love. He supposed he had been; certainly he’d told previous girlfriends he was. It had seemed the right thing to say. At any rate, he’d enjoyed a steady string of sleeping partners: Alex and Sophie in his first year, then Susannah for over a year, and finally Nell, whom he only split up with because he was going travelling and he didn’t want to have to feel guilty if he met anyone else. But since coming back, nothing.

Catching his own face in the mirror, he suddenly noticed a line had developed down one side of his face, etched between his nose and the corner of his mouth. Where had that come from? He was sure it hadn’t been there last time he looked. Had he really already reached that stage in life where the ageing process was beginning to set in? And his spindly round glasses were smudged and getting loose. This was too much: he was twenty-five, stuck in a traffic jam on the M4 and wrinkling. How had he let his life lead him onto this course? What had he been thinking when he left university? The truth was: Not a lot. The options open to a graduate with a lower second in zoology had seemed a bit limited, and since he had a bit of family money, he’d decided he might as well delay the career for a year or two and explore a bit more of the world instead. He flew east first, to Thailand and then on to Australia and New Zealand, where he skiied and surfed and hung out, and then worked for a bit in a bar. From there he moved on to conquer South America, finally pausing for just over a year in Buenos Aires. He’d loved Argentina; and the cost of living was so cheap, meaning he could work little and play hard. There were plenty of Europeans and Americans out there too, providing him with friends. He had a girlfriend there too: a lovely Argentinian who’d dazzled him with her Latin allure.

At some point, however, Geordie had realized that he was going to have to get on with life. So, to the relief of his parents and friends, he’d come back to England and almost immediately moved up to London, on the lookout for a ‘proper’ job. Jessica had been looking for a new place to live, so he’d moved in with her. And here he was, he thought to himself, his career under way, sitting in a traffic jam on the edge of London and rapidly ageing.

He felt faintly depressed. Having exorcised his wanderlust, his life now felt mundane. The lack of girlfriend was just beginning to really get to him. Christ, he hadn’t even had sex for over a year. What was it? Was he becoming boring? He was certainly feeling bored. Or was it just that it was harder to meet people these days? How did you meet new girls? Walk into a bar and start chatting someone up? Hardly. He thought about all the girls he knew. Most were spoken for; of those that weren’t, either he’d already been out with them, or didn’t fancy them, no matter how desperate he felt. And others, like Jessica, were just friends and always would be. This competition was all very well, but just how was he going to achieve these goals? Rooting around in the glove compartment, he found his much loved ELO Greatest Hits . Best not to brood. In the safety of his car, he could listen to whatever he liked, and sing as badly as he liked without anyone complaining – he liked ELO even if no one else did. Singing along the wrong words to ‘Mr Blue Sky’, he felt his good humour slowly return.

Geordie had phoned Jessica to relay Flin’s news, but she found it hard to feel too excited. She knew what Flin was like, knew that he always jumped in head first without pausing to think and that often his early enthusiasm came to nothing. And anyway, she could tell that Geordie was only phoning her because he was bored: he always repeated himself when he had nothing to say, and on this occasion told her for the second time that day that he and Flin would be out all evening. Still, she was quite pleased about that: it had been a bad day at the office and she felt in need of some quiet time to herself. Of course she adored Geordie and Flin, but they could be so noisy and exhausting sometimes.

Arriving back at the flat, she made a beeline for the sink, washed her hands, then applied a generous amount of hand-cream and morello cherry lip-balm, and poured herself a large glass of wine. Then she kicked off her shoes, switched on the television, and lay full-stretch on the sofa, checking through the post. Letter from the bank – boring; some mail for Geordie – boring, boring. But then an envelope that always cheered her up – her weekly edition of Bunty . Her friends found it extraordinary that someone who was normally so elegant and poised at all times should still subscribe to such juvenile drivel. But Jessica had read it ever since she was about ten, tenderly bought for her each week by her mother: it was comforting and she liked the assured regularity of this weekly package.

Leafing through pages of schoolgirl drama was as soothing as ever; after that she was looking forward to what she considered essential ‘me-time’ – time in which to unwind, have a bath, read a magazine or two and not talk to anyone. To her annoyance, though, she found she couldn’t stop thinking about Richard Keeble. How dare he make a pass at her! Then to make matters worse, Rob was still trying to sit next to her, even though she’d told him nearly a month before that nothing further was going to happen between them. Despite looking as immaculate as the moment she had left the house that morning, she now felt soiled and unclean. Even the restorative powers of lip-balm and hand-cream had failed her on this occasion. It was too much.

Richard Keeble always flirted with the younger girls. Although forty-something and acne-scarred, he was convinced they loved being chatted up and that his particular line of amusing cuff-links and bright ties made him a consul of contemporary chic. Rumour had it that he had had his way with one of the receptionists at last year’s Christmas Party, but Jessica could not have possibly cared less – she found him utterly repellent. That morning, however, she had been trapped by him between the third and ground floor as she was on her way to a meeting.