Jane Green - Bookends

Will went to sit back down on the sofa, pressed up next to Steve, and the pair of them sat there drinking their beers, giggling like teenagers at jokes that Si was clearly not in on.

So Si sat there for a while, watching them flirt, desperate to leave but hoping this was some horrible nightmare that would be over any second, when Will looked up with an expression of surprise and said, ‘Are you still here?’

Shocked, Si stood up, as Steve snorted in amusement and Will buried his head in his shoulder to hide the laughter.

‘Not interested,’ Si heard Will say as he stumbled out of the flat. ‘ You’re boring as fuck, your friends are boring as fuck, and as for your fucking …’ and he heard the laughter as he slammed the door.

It was a wonder, Si sniffs as he sits here on my sofa, that he didn’t crash the car on the way back. It wasn’t that Will was the love of his life, but the humiliation was awful. He’d never been so humiliated in his life, having to sit there and watch the two of them together, and then that sneering comment, the rejection.

‘I can’t cope,’ Si says, his voice starting to break again. ‘I can’t cope with the rejection. Why does this always have to happen to me? Why? What have I done?’

And what can I say? What is there to say? Eventually I come out with a feeble, ‘He wasn’t good enough to even lick your bloody shoes,’ which is the only thing I can think of.

‘I know that,’ Si says, which I suppose is something of a breakthrough. ‘But that’s not the point. He wasn’t good enough for me, and he still managed to get the final word in and kick me once I was down.’

‘You know what?’ Anger is finally kicking in on Si’s behalf. ‘Alison Bailey said he was a cunt .’ Si looks at me in shock because I spit the word out with relish and this is not a word anyone is accustomed to hearing from my lips, not least Si, who knows me better than most.

‘She said he was a nasty evil shit who got a kick out of destroying people. He’d done it to some girl at work, and she said the best advice she could give would be to stay well away.’

Si starts to look interested, and because I can see this is helping I decide to add a few personal touches, a few flourishes of my own. ‘She said that he plays mind-fuck, he gets off on playing psychological games with people and seeing what it will take to break them.’ She may not have said that, but I know that’s exactly the sort of person he is.

‘I swear, Si. You may be hurting now, but Jesus, all I can think is that you got off incredibly lightly.’

‘Did she really say all those things?’

I nod.

‘He was a pig to Josh and Lucy, wasn’t he?’

‘God, yes. The worst.’

‘So you don’t think it’s me?’

‘Si, you’re gorgeous. He’s just an arse for not recognizing it.’

‘Do you think that somebody, someday will recognize it?’

‘Absolutely, one hundred per cent, definitely.’

‘Thanks, sweets.’ He gives me another smile that’s a lot less wobbly than the last one I saw, and I give him a hug until he starts to sniffle again, warning that I mustn’t be too nice or it will set him off again.

‘You know what will definitely make me feel better?’ he says suddenly with a faint twinkle in his eye, looking much like a naughty little boy. ‘That Cinnamon Danish I brought a couple of weeks ago.’

‘Ah.’ I sit there as my brain works furiously trying to think of an excuse, but I can’t say that I had ten people over for tea last week, as Si would know I was lying, and, embarrassing as it is to have to admit I ate the whole thing by myself, he doesn’t have to know the whole truth.

‘It’s in here,’ I say, pointing at my swollen stomach.

‘What? All of it?’ Si’s horrified as I shake my head and laugh.

‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve had it in the fridge for a week, and I’ve worked my way through it, ending with the last piece tonight.’

‘So there’s nothing left, not even one little piece?’

‘I’m sorry. Nothing.’

‘Well, there’s only one thing for it, then,’ he says, standing up and reaching for his coat. ‘Come on, get your shoes on. We’re going out for ice-cream.’

On any other night I’d tell Si to get stuffed because going out this late in the freezing cold is the very last thing I feel like doing, particularly after the entire cinnamon Danish, but tonight I have to show what friends are made of, so I pull some boots on and head out the door.

Half an hour later we’re sitting in the window of Haagen-Dazs, rain splattering the glass, my wonderfully smooth locks having now, thanks to the rain, frizzed up to the usual Cath mess.

Si’s spooning out the last of a tub of Strawberry Cheesecake ice-cream, and I’m watching him with my chin in my hand, nursing a large glass of water and doing my best not to be sick.

‘Are you sure you don’t want my last spoonful?’ Si says, holding the spoon to my mouth.

‘Absolutely not.’ I shake my head as the Danish threatens to rise once more. ‘But I’m glad you love me enough to ask.’

‘Cath, my love, do you think anyone would ever understand how much we appreciate a Sunday off? I don’t know about you but I am absolutely exhausted.’ Lucy kicks off her shoes and stretches her arms up to the ceiling, rolling her shoulders and sighing.

‘And we thought running Bookends was going to be easy.’

‘Not easy,’ she says, smiling, ‘but my God, I wish someone had told me quite how many hours we’d have to be working.’

‘But think of all the benefits…’ I make sympathetic noises just as the front door slams, and Ingrid and Max arrive back from the park.

‘MUmmmmmmyyyyyy!’ Max comes hurtling down the hallway and flings himself into Lucy’s arms, as she strokes his hair and covers him with kisses, and whatever animosity I may have felt towards Max in the past, I can see that he obviously does miss her right now, and my heart warms.

‘What’s that, my love?’ Lucy says, gently detaching herself enough to take the piece of paper clutched in Max’s hand.

‘Darling, that’s wonderful. Is that you with Mummy and Daddy? Why have I got blonde hair?’

‘Because,’ Max says, ‘it’s me, Daddy and Ingrid. I was going to draw you, but Ingrid plays with me more,’ and with that he climbs down, too young to see how much he’s hurt Lucy, but of course I can see the pain in her eyes.

She waits until he’s run upstairs, and then rubs her temples with her hands.

‘You see?’ she says finally, looking at me. ‘I can’t blame him for that, he never sees me any more. God, Cath, I’m not suggesting it’s any easier for you, but it’s so heartbreaking when you know you’re missing out on seeing your family.

‘There I was, thinking I’d be home early evening to get Max ready for bed and make supper for Josh and I, and instead I find myself in the shop until at least eight or nine o’clock, and that’s if we haven’t got any events on.

‘I hardly see my son, and Josh and I feel like ships passing in the night right now. In the mornings I pass him in the kitchen as I’m making a cup of coffee and he’s grabbing his briefcase and running out the door, and if I’m lucky we have a chance to have a quick two-minute chat at night before I hit the sack.’

‘Lucy, you’re making it sound awful. I don’t know what to say, because I haven’t got anyone to worry about other than me, and quite honestly I love the fact that it keeps me so busy. It stops me worrying about not having a social life.’ And it’s true. I have never been happier in my life than this last month, since the bookshop opened.