Brand New Friend (19 page)

‘It’s the rebel in us.’ Andy chuckled. ‘We’re obviously both big on nonconformity.’

‘Yeah,’ replied Rob. ‘We’re really sticking it to the Man.’

At around ten, having discussed everything from football and Formula One to their schooldays, and what they had thought they would be doing when they were thirty, they left the bar and went to Azad Manzil, an Indian restaurant on Barlow Moor Road. Over chicken Jalfrezi, Rogan Josh and four pints of Carlsberg they talked about family, friends and ex-girlfriends. Just after midnight they called for the bill and paid up. As they were putting on their jackets Rob realised he felt great. While his evening with Andy had been no better than an average night out with his London friends, he could see that there was scope for improvement. The important thing was that he and Andy had had men’s conversation. They’d explored the stuff that mattered to them in a way that no kind-hearted girlfriend, family member or even platonic female friend could. Rob was overjoyed to have spent time talking bloke stuff with a real live bloke.

‘Thank you for your custom,’ said the waiter, opening the door. ‘Please come again.’

‘Cheers,’ replied Andy, standing still.

‘Nice one,’ replied Rob. He wondered why neither of them had moved, then realised it was because they didn’t want to break the spell. They knew that once they were outside the restaurant everything would go weird. They would cease being two men who had had an enjoyable evening of drinking and conversation, and would become again the bumbling heterosexual idiots who had arranged a date with another man because they had no friends.

What was more, things might be worse now: at the beginning of the evening they hadn’t known each other and therefore couldn’t like or dislike each other. Now they weren’t strangers: they were two guys who liked each other – with added tension.

Rob had enjoyed himself. He was pretty sure Andy had too.
But what happened next
?

If Andy
had
been a girl and this
had
been a date Rob knew exactly what he would have done next – he would’ve tried to have kissed her. After all, following an evening that began as shakily as theirs which then managed to pull itself round into an all round top night, a kiss would not only have been inevitable but practically obligatory. And, more importantly, it would’ve had the desired effect of sealing the deal. Would she (the female Andy) have kissed him back? Rob didn’t doubt it for a second. Would she have wanted to see him again? Rob was absolutely convinced on that one too.
Yes
, thought Rob,
I’d kiss her. She’d kiss me back. We’d talk a bit. And then I’d promise to call her later in the week. That’s what would be happening now if Andy had been a girl.

But Andy was a bloke. And despite Rob’s gay-o-meter being in the red all evening, neither of them were that way inclined. So the big question in his mind was: How do two heterosexual men make the first step towards friendship?

‘So,’ said Andy, as he stepped out on to the pavement.

‘Hmm,’ replied Rob. ‘That was a great meal.’

‘You’re not wrong,’ said Andy. ‘I’ve had a lot of Indian meals in my time but that was probably in my top ten.’

‘Really?’ asked Rob.

‘Absolutely,’ replied Andy. ‘Straight in at number five.’

There was a long silence while Andy surreptitiously glanced at his watch and Rob pretended to do up his shoelaces. As Rob stood up his heart was racing – the last thing he wanted. He did not want anything to happen that made this situation any more gay than it was already. Now his masculinity wasn’t feeling merely threatened, it was positively menaced. Suddenly Rob saw that he and Andy had been doomed before they met because men in their thirties
did not
make new friends like this. They kept hold of their old friends, forgot about having friends altogether or relied on men-only establishments, like golf clubs, five-a-side football leagues or the smoking lounges of spit-and-sawdust pubs to find like-minded individuals.

‘Right,’ said Andy, uncomfortably, ‘I’d . . . er, better be off.’

‘Cool.’ Rob offered his hand for Andy to shake. ‘Well, it was good to meet you.’

And that was that. There was no talk of seeing each other again, of calling or exchanging emails, just a brief but firm handshake, a warm smile and a sort of half-nod in acknowledgement that, great as the evening had been, they weren’t going to see each other again.

‘Let me get this right,’ said an astonished Ashley as Rob climbed into bed next to her. ‘Tonight was about you finding a new mate and you’ve met a guy you like but you’re not going to see him again.’

‘That’s about the long, short and tall of it,’ replied Rob.

‘I’m not getting it,’ said Ashley. ‘I’m trying to but I’m not. None of what you’re saying makes sense to me.’

‘It’s easy,’ said Rob. ‘At the end of the night he didn’t suggest meeting up so therefore I won’t be seeing him again.’

‘But you didn’t say anything either.’

‘I know.’

‘Doesn’t that mean you’re as bad as he is?’

‘I suppose,’ replied Rob. ‘But if he wanted to see me again he would’ve said, wouldn’t he?’

‘But
you
wanted to see
him
again and you didn’t say, did you?’

‘No,’ acknowledged Rob, ‘which is why we’re not going to see each other again.’

‘But do you want to see him again?’

‘Put it this way,’ said Rob. ‘If he called and asked me if I wanted to go for a drink next week I’d say yes.’

Rob could tell from Ashley’s stunned silence that she didn’t understand what was going on here. And who could blame her? He wasn’t sure he understood either. She was right: he and Andy were as bad as each other. But Rob didn’t make the rules and neither did Andy. They received them at birth with their DNA and chromosomes.

‘You should phone him,’ said Ashley. ‘You’ve got his number. Just bite the bullet and call him.’ She paused. ‘Is this because you’re afraid of looking like a girl?’

‘That’s exactly what I’m afraid of. Andy and I had a good time tonight, but who knows if we would next week? And if we did have a good time next week what about the week after that? There are too many questions and not enough answers so it’s safer to let it go. We had a good time but I won’t call him and I know he won’t call me.’

‘But why not?’ asked Ashley.

‘For the same reason I never called Kate Newton the day after I got off with her at her eighteenth birthday party, even though I’d been madly in love with her for a whole year, that Nicola Freeland, who sat next to me at Ogilvy-Hunter, didn’t talk to me after the night we got together at the office Christmas party, and that most people don’t do the things they really want to do. It’s shyness, combined with acute embarrassment, self-loathing and the fear of looking stupid.’

‘You and Andy had a one-night stand, then?’

‘Pretty much. Only without any awkwardness the morning after.’

‘Men are just too weird,’ said Ashley.

‘Tell me about it,’ said Rob. ‘Still, at least there are only two more to go.’

‘You’re going to do it again?’ asked Ashley.

‘I promised you I would and I’m nothing if not a man of my word,’ replied Rob. ‘Anyway, if tonight with Andy taught me anything it was that I do miss hanging out with guys and talking bloke stuff. All I need to do is find someone a bit more like me and things should be sorted.’

It was eleven o’clock on the following Saturday morning and Rob and Jo were sitting in the Lead Station Café on Beech Road having just consumed an English breakfast. Ashley was shopping with Christine and Mia and this was the first time Rob had seen Jo since she’d come to his house. When he’d called her to arrange their date he explained that he and Ashley had made up and that it was fine for them to be friends. He left out the part about agreeing to continue his bloke-dates, mostly because he didn’t want Jo to feel as if she were second-best. All Rob wanted to do was the right thing for everybody concerned, but he no longer knew what it was.

Initially Jo had been unsure about seeing him and he’d had to reassure her several times that their date had Ashley’s blessing. Even when she turned up at the café conversation had been stiff and awkward as if she was holding back. Half-way through breakfast, though, they got into their old conversational rhythm and Rob realised how much he’d missed her.

Over the last hour they had discussed the TV they’d watched, new films they wanted to see, books they had read, new restaurants and CDs without once resorting to rising house prices. But it was only now, as the waitress cleared away their plates, that Rob asked the big question.

‘So,’ he began, ‘disastrous dinner dates aside, what did you think of Ashley?’

‘Men are so rubbish sometimes,’ said Jo. ‘If you were a woman, that would’ve been the first question you asked me. Men can’t stand confrontation, can they?’

‘Well, it was a weird night,’ replied Rob. ‘I wasn’t sure how comfortable you’d be talking about it.’

‘But everything’s turned out okay,’ said Jo, ‘and that’s the important thing, isn’t it?’

‘I suppose,’ said Rob. ‘And your opinion?’

‘Of Ashley?’ Rob nodded. ‘Well, before we get to that, what did she think of me?’

‘She said that from the little she could gather in the short time you were in the house you seemed like a really nice person,’ replied Rob. ‘And from what I’ve told her about you she said you sounded funny and charming.’

‘Am I funny and charming?’

Rob laughed. ‘Well, I would’ve said you were more amusing than funny, and entertaining than charming, but that’s me.’

‘Cheeky sod,’ laughed Jo. ‘I am funny and charming, I’ll have you know. Ashley is obviously very good at sussing out people of quality stock.’

‘Anyway,’ said Rob, ‘she’s now very positive about you.’

‘Didn’t she say anything negative about me at all?’

‘Nothing,’ said Rob. ‘Anyway, now we’ve settled all that, what did you think of her?’

‘She seemed really nice,’ said Jo, ‘from the little I saw of her . . . and she’s stunning to look at. She’s got that whole cool, calm and collected
über
-babe thing going.
And
she’s a doctor. You’re a lucky man.’

‘Everyone says that about us,’ said Rob, ‘even Phil. As soon as new people meet Ashley they always tell me how lucky I am – as if I’ve just won the lottery or something.’

‘Do I detect a note of jealousy?’ asked Jo. ‘Look, no one’s saying you’re not a bit of a catch too, it’s just that . . . well . . . she’s a babe
and
a doctor. Looks and intelligence in one package. Really, she ought to be going out with either a self-made millionaire businessman or George Clooney but she’s going out with
you.
’

‘I thought you were supposed to be my mate?’

‘You haven’t let me finish my point—’

‘Which is?’

‘That the qualities you’ve got that make her lucky to be going out with you – none of which I’m going to name for fear of swelling your head – aren’t so obvious but they
are
worthwhile.’

‘Cheers,’ said Rob. ‘I wasn’t fishing for compliments but sometimes it’s hard going out with the perfect woman.’

Jo laughed. ‘I know what you mean now that I’ve seen her in the same top I was wearing.’

‘But you both looked fine to me,’ said Rob.

‘That’s very sweet of you, Rob, but we certainly didn’t look the same. She was an elegant gazelle and I was a hippo. I can’t tell you how horrified I was to be wearing the same top as her.
And
gutted.’

‘But you looked the same,’ said Rob. ‘I couldn’t tell the difference.’

Jo rolled her eyes. ‘
And
she’s got great taste.’

‘What do you mean? In the house?’

‘I could tell from the hallway and the living room that she spent ages choosing the right colours and fabrics. That sofa of yours is gorgeous, and the chair by the fireplace. The whole house was just like her –
together
– not like my place which has a thrown-together this-is-going-cheap-in-IKEA-so-I’ll-have-it look.’

‘Did you find her intimidating?’ asked Rob.

Jo nodded. ‘I’d be lying if I said I didn’t.’

‘I only ask because in the past when she’s met Phil’s girlfriends for the first time they’ve all confessed to feeling in awe of her. I put that down to her being a doctor and the confidence that goes with knowing that what you’re doing could save life but maybe she
is
just intimidating.’ Rob shrugged. ‘Could you ever see yourself being friends with her one day?’

‘Probably not,’ she admitted. ‘Not that she isn’t lovely but I just don’t think there’s enough . . .’ she searched for the right word ‘ . . .
crossover
between us.’

‘Fair enough,’ said Rob. ‘And, anyway, it’s done now. You’ve got the official seal of approval so we can be mates.’

‘That’s a bit self-centred, isn’t it?’ said Jo, indignantly.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You’re so clueless sometimes. Why does everything have to be about you?’

‘You’re losing me,’ said Rob.

‘Well, what if there’s somebody I need you to meet?’

‘You’ve split up with Sean and I can’t imagine you’d want me to meet your parents. Who else is there?’ said Rob blankly.

‘Grab your coat,’ said Jo. ‘We’re going for a ride.’

It was ten past twelve when Jo pulled up in the car park at Oldham’s Greenacres Cemetery. The car park was nearly full but Jo found a space between a metallic blue Vauxhall Astra and black Fiat Punto.

‘What are we doing here?’ asked Rob, as she turned off the engine. ‘This is a cemetery.’

‘I know,’ said Jo, quietly, and peered up at the sky through the windscreen. ‘There’s someone I want you to meet.’

Jo climbed out of the car and waited for Rob to join her.