Jane Green - Bookends

How can I resist? I do, however, clearly state that I will be staying just long enough to say hello, and then I will be off.

The gorgeous warm sunshine of yesterday has well and truly disappeared, leaving the weather cold and windy, and truly autumnal. I’m grateful I brought my scarf to keep the wind away from bones that are fragile enough already. We stride slowly up the hill, apologizing as Mouse becomes entangled with people or runs across them, tripping them up with his lead.

My breath is visible in the crisp air, and Si clamps his hands under his armpits to keep them warm, as I dig mine deep down into the pockets of my coat.

‘I love this weather,’ Si says, taking a deep breath and exhaling with a look of intense satisfaction on his face.

‘Are you serious? Give me the summer anytime. People in short sleeves, carefree, everyone smiling and milling round outside.’

‘Nope.’ Si shakes his head. ‘Give me cold, windy winters. Or, even better, this time of year. Autumn. Anything where it’s cold and you have to wrap up warmly. Kicking through the leaves across the heath, then going home to snuggle up under thick blankets with a roaring fire to keep you warm.’ He sighs with pleasure.

‘Any second now you’ll be talking about melting marshmallows in mugs of creamy hot chocolate,’ I laugh sarcastically.

‘Well, yes, actually.’ Si affects a wounded look. ‘What would winter fantasies be without the ubiquitous hot chocolate.’

‘God.’ I shake my head in wonder. ‘You really are an old romantic, aren’t you? No wonder you haven’t managed to settle down with anyone. Who could live up to those expectations? Who could live as if their life were a constant movie?’

Si thinks for a second. ‘Rupert Everett,’ he offers finally, smacking his lips together before licking them lasciviously. ‘That’s who.’

We reach the station five minutes late, and there’s no sign of Will. Si immediately begins to worry that we’ve missed him, that he’s been and gone, that he thought Si wasn’t turning up.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I say. ‘He’s probably late himself.’

And, although it’s really far too cold to be standing around a chilly tube station, that’s exactly what we do. For half a bloody hour.

‘Hasn’t he got a mobile?’ I ask eventually, and Si nods, so we troop down to the payphone down the hill, Si having forgotten to re-charge his. I lean outside, attempting to control Mouse, while he phones Will.

I want to eavesdrop desperately, but I don’t want to look as if I want to eavesdrop, so I pull Mouse over to a shoe shop and try to appear amazingly interested in shoes, which isn’t exactly a realistic proposition, but it’s the best I can do on such short notice.

Eventually I hear the door to the phone box open, and Si comes out looking completely dejected.

‘How do you fancy coming with us for a walk?’ he says finally, his voice flat.

‘Us?’

‘Mouse and me.’

I look at my watch and shrug apologetically, because I have to get to the shop, but Si and I walk up the hill together, back to the tube station, in silence, as I wait for him to explain. Eventually he lets out a long sigh and says, ‘He forgot.’

‘He what?’ I’m flabbergasted. And horrified.

‘He’s with friends in some brasserie somewhere, and he said he completely forgot.’

‘Bastard!’ I spit.

Si doesn’t say anything, he just shrugs, so I take the opportunity to unleash a tirade of vitriol that probably isn’t that appropriate, given I hardly know the guy, but I just can’t help it. How dare he treat Si like that. How dare anyone . I look at Si’s sweet, loving face, and I just want to kill this man for treating Si as if he’s disposable.

‘Okay, okay,’ Si says, stopping me. ‘I get the picture.’

‘Does this mean you’ve realized he’s not for you?’

‘I don’t know. Let’s just say I might have started to see things a bit more clearly.’

‘Si.’ I try a more gentle tack. ‘Don’t you remember what you always used to say to me? That I deserved the best and when was I going to get enough self-esteem to realize that if somebody didn’t appreciate me, then it was time to simply walk away without giving them a second thought?’

Si nods.

‘Well, don’t you think you’re old enough to start listening to your own advice? Because, as you always used to say to me, you don’t have to wait for someone to treat you badly repeatedly. All it takes is once, and if they get away with it that once, if they know they can treat you like that, then it sets the pattern for the future.’

‘You forgot to say ugly enough,’ Si says, with the vestige of a small smile on his face.

‘What?’

‘You said didn’t I think I was old enough. You forgot to say “and ugly enough” too.’

‘I thought that went without saying,’ I grin, and Si takes my hand and gives me a quick squeeze.

‘Thanks,’ he says, ‘you’re the best friend a girl could ever ask for.’

I arrive back home, change into my oldest, most disgusting clothes, grab a bucket of cleaning stuff and dash to the shop.

Lucy’s already there, cleaning up the kitchen, and she makes us both strong cappuccinos before we start work. We sit at one of the cleaner tables to drink our coffee and gossip about the night before.

And then, Jesus, do we work. We scrub, sweep, mop and polish, until the shop is positively gleaming, until you wouldn’t have a clue that last night there were well over a hundred people crammed in here.

And eventually, when we’ve finished, Lucy looks at me with a twinkle in her eye and says, ‘So what’s on your agenda for the evening?’

I shrug, planning nothing more exciting than a long hot bath and an early night in preparation for the big day tomorrow.

‘Before you have your hot bath and early night,’ Lucy smiles, reading my mind, ‘can I tempt you with a delicious savoury cheesecake that I’m planning to have for supper with a large salad and an even larger glass of red wine. Care to join me?’

‘I’d love to. But can I take a raincheck on the wine?’

Lucy’s kitchen is even more disorganized than usual. The dustbin lid is wide open like a gaping mouth as rubbish threatens to spill out all over the kitchen floor, and a couple of supplementary bins, rather cleverly disguised as Sainsbury’s bags, are dotted around at the base of the main bin.

The sink is overflowing with dishes, and the board with messages, scribbled on various bits of paper, envelopes, scraps torn out of magazines, each in Lucy’s illegible handwriting. The fridge is now evidently doubling up as a noticeboard, and the magnetic poetry kit has been completely hidden by several scraps of paper clinging on to the fridge with the help of some rather dusty hamburger-shaped magnets.

One of Max’s videos is playing at full volume in the living room, and even in the kitchen the noise is slightly deafening, which isn’t helped by Max zooming around the kitchen with a plastic aeroplane making vroom vroom noises.

Christ. I know I’ve been neglecting my flat for the past few weeks, but this takes neglect on to a whole other level.

But Lucy is, as always, the port of calm in the storm, blissfully unaware of the chaos around her. I follow her into the kitchen, and she sits down at the kitchen table to slice tomatoes directly on the wood, creating yet more criss-crossed gouges in the old pine that has definitely seen better days.

Max climbs on to her lap and attempts to grab the knife, while Lucy smiles and gently brushes him aside.

‘Don’t be silly, darling,’ she says, ‘you know knives are bad for you,’ and I wonder again how she manages to stay so serene in the face of all this noise and mayhem. ‘Go and tell Ingrid to get you ready for bed, and Cath, why don’t you open that bottle of red on the side,’ she continues, as I bristle at the very mention of Ingrid’s name.