Brand New Friend (3 page)

Rob thought about saying it was fine, but was all too aware that he was in danger of losing what little cool he might still have. Instead he replied, ‘You’re right. Friends should come first. Because without them what are you? But before you go I’d like to insist on one thing.’

‘Which is?’

‘Your phone number.’

Ashley and her sister exchanged a knowing glance.

‘Have you got a pen?’ asked Ashley.

‘No,’ replied Rob, digging into his pockets and pulling out his mobile. ‘I’ll just put it in this.’ Ashley took it from him, carefully tapped in her number and pressed ‘save’. Then she kissed his cheek, picked up her coat from the back of the chair next to her and went towards the door.

Alone, Rob checked her number as if it was the only proof in the world that the last half-hour hadn’t been an elaborate dream. Was the number she had given real? He took a deep breath and pressed ‘call’.

‘Hello?’ said a female voice.

‘Is that Ashley?’

‘Yes – who’s . . . Rob?’

‘Yes.’

‘Rob that I was speaking to less than a minute ago?’

‘Yes,
that
Rob.’

‘What can I do for you?’

‘Nothing at the minute. I just wanted to check – with you being a trainee doctor and all – that you’ll be available in case of an emergency.’

‘Oh,’ she replied softly, ‘I’ll always be there for you in an emergency.’

Thirty seconds later she walked back in and, without a word, they kissed. And that, pretty much, was that.

It was just after midnight when Rob heard Ashley’s car pull up outside the house. He turned off the TV and looked through the curtains: she was reversing her convertible MQ into the kind of parking spot that most people would have written off as a non-starter, which said volumes about Ashley’s ability behind the wheel
and
her personality. Nothing was too difficult for her – whether it was life in general or precision parking. He put on his trainers and went outside to help her with her bags.

‘Hey, you,’ he said, as she unlocked the boot.

Ashley allowed herself to be kissed.

‘How was the journey?’

She didn’t reply, just rolled her eyes and hauled out her bags. As they went towards the house Rob asked question after question in a bid to coax her out of her dark mood, but her responses were strained and barely audible.

He dumped the bags in his bedroom while Ashley made herself a cup of tea. By the time he was back downstairs she was sitting in the living room with a steaming mug in her hand. Rob turned on the TV and they watched an old episode of
Have I Got News For You.
In the half-hour it was on, Rob laughed several times, but Ashley failed to raise so much as a smile.

‘I’m really tired,’ he said, stifling a yawn as the credits rolled. He stretched in pantomime fashion – his code for, “Do you want to have sex?”

‘I’m shattered,’ replied Ashley. ‘The second I hit the pillow I’ll be out like a light.’

‘Me too,’ said Rob, decoding her answer as a firm negative.

‘I just want a big hug and then to fall asleep,’ she said, cuddling up to him.

‘Are you all right?’ asked Rob.

‘No.’ She sat up. ‘Actually, I’m not. I think we need to talk.’

‘It’s the long-distance thing, isn’t it?’

‘Yes.’ She looked into Rob’s eyes. ‘You know I love you, don’t you, more than anything in the world? But you must see that we can’t carry on like this. I miss you too much, the travelling makes me bad-tempered and I feel like our life is on hold . . .’ She pointed across the room to the armchair where a sleeping-bag adorned with a pair of green boxer shorts lay bundled up. ‘And although I love Woodsy to death even he’s getting a bit too much for me.’

‘I know,’ said Rob eyeing the boxers. ‘I’ll have a word with him about tidying up.’

‘But that’s not the point, is it? The point is, do you want us to live together?’

‘Of course I do,’ said Rob. ‘I’ve told you that a million times.’

‘So if you want to be with me, let’s go for it. Come and live with me – or stay here, if you prefer. I’ll start looking for a new job tomorrow. All you need to do is
say.
But we can’t carry on the way things are. Manchester or London? The choice is yours.’

Rob nodded slowly. The choice was indeed his. He knew Ashley had been more patient than he deserved. She had asked time and again if she should apply for a job in London so that they could be together and he’d always said no. The fact was, he knew he’d have to leave London one day. It was too expensive. It was too grimy. It was too . . . London. And he was aware of what was at stake. He didn’t want to miss out on a good thing as he had done with Trish because of geography. He knew Ashley was his one chance of living a proper life. He didn’t want to miss out on the Buying-a-house Thing, the Getting-married Thing, the Being-a-parent Thing, even the Being-happy-for-the-rest-of-your-life-until-you-pop-your-clogs Thing. And it didn’t seem fair that he might miss out on all that just because he wasn’t ready to move city.

‘Look, Ash,’ he began, ‘I know things can’t go on like this, and one day I will move up to Manchester. It’s just that . . .’

‘What?’

‘Things are different when they become reality. It’ll mean a lot of changes, like moving my job. Phil and I have only had the company running two years—’

‘But you’ve told me before that you could easily set up in Manchester and commute to London for meetings with Phil. It’s only two hours on the train.’

Rob swallowed. She was right again. And, to make matters worse, he and Phil had had the discussion only a month earlier. Phil had suggested it might be a good thing as then they’d have the desk space to hire their first employee.

‘Look,’ said Rob, ‘all I’m saying is . . . can’t we just wait a little longer?’

Ashley shook her head. ‘Not any more. Just give me a reason – one
good
reason – why you won’t move.’

‘I can’t give you one,’ he told her sullenly. ‘There are too many to choose from.’

‘And that’s the last you’ve got to say on the matter?’ she asked, as she untangled herself from his arms and stood up.

‘This doesn’t have to be a “Thing”, okay? All I’m asking for is a bit of time.’

‘How much?’

‘Two years . . . three max.’

‘No,’ said Ashley, firmly. ‘You’ve agreed we can’t carry on like this.’

‘You’re right, but now’s not the right time for me to leave London.’

‘You’ve said that. But I still don’t feel you’re telling me the real reason why.’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘Of course it does, because whatever’s stopping you is affecting my life as well as yours. I don’t understand you. You say you want to leave London but you won’t make the decision to do it. Don’t you want to be with me any more?’

‘Of course I do,’ said Rob. ‘I love you.’

‘Then what is it?’ asked Ashley. ‘What’s stopping you?’

‘I just need more time,’ said Rob. ‘A bit more and it’ll all be sorted, I promise you.’

‘Well, that’s the one thing you can’t have,’ said Ashley, and with that she left the room and headed upstairs, slamming the door after her.

‘Where are you going?’ Rob called after her.

‘Back to Manchester,’ she replied, as she appeared at the top of the stairs holding her suitcase.

‘It’s late,’ said Rob. Panic had worked its way into his voice. ‘You’re tired. I’m tired. Can’t we just talk about this?’

‘No,’ she said, as she came down the stairs. ‘We can’t. Not any more.’ She brushed past him and slammed the front door behind her.

Rob opened it and followed her along the path to the gate. ‘What do you want me to say. Ash?’ he shouted.

She was standing by her car now, fumbling desperately with her keys. ‘I want you to say that you want to be with me as much as I want to be with you,’ she said, evidently fighting back tears. ‘That’s not too much to ask, is it?’

Rob didn’t answer. Instead he sat down on his neighbour’s wall, closed his eyes and put his head into his hands. He heard Ashley start her car. As she slid it into gear and drove off, he exhaled heavily. He wished more than anything that he was in the pub with his friends. At least they would understand why he was finding it so hard to make the decision. They would see it his way. Unlike Ashley who didn’t understand that at the age of thirty-two, there were only a handful of things that could genuinely terrify a man – and, ridiculous as it might seem, one was the idea of moving to a new city and making new friends.

Saturday afternoon. Two o’clock. Fresh off the Luton Line Express coach from Bedford, Rob entered the dilapidated rented six-bedroom house in Kilburn that would be his new home. He was carrying a large rucksack, a suitcase and a cumbersome just-about-portable CD-player. As he stood in the hallway, his mind was flung back to when the landlord had first shown him the room. He studied the floor. Had the hallway carpet always been so heavily stained? He sniffed the air. Had the smell of dust and damp been so strong? He examined the walls. Had there really been what looked like a faded blood splatter by the stairs on his last visit? Had his eyes been open at all when he was last here? He was wondering whether it was too late to beg the landlord for the return of his deposit cheque when he heard a noise from the living room. He realised it was one of his house-mates and decided to check it out. As he entered through the heavy panelled door, he saw a bloke of his own age sitting on a purple sofa wearing a pair of Blackburn Rovers football shorts and a bright blue T-shirt that bore the words ‘
Pavement: The Slow Century’.
He was reading a magazine that, on closer examination, Rob saw was a copy of
Mac User.
‘All right, mate?’ he said, as he looked up.

‘Yeah, cheers.’ Rob introduced himself: ‘I’m Rob, Rob Brooks.’

‘Phil Parry. You must be the guy moving into Steve’s old room.’

Rob nodded. ‘I’m only here for six months, and after that I’ll probably move on.’

‘We all said that when we first moved in,’ Phil told him. ‘But no one ever leaves because, as filthy, flea-ridden and mouldy as this place is, it’s cheap.’

‘Well, someone’s gone because I’m taking his room.’

Phil raised his eyebrows questioningly. ‘Didn’t it put you off, though?’

‘What?’

Phil lowered his voice: ‘You know.’

‘Know what?’ Rob lowered his too.

‘Moving into a room where someone’s just died.’

This news took Rob by surprise. ‘You’re telling me the guy in my room
died
? Of what?’

‘Gullibility,’ said Phil, laughing. ‘Steve’s not dead. Not unless you count moving to Milton Keynes to live with your bunny-boiler of a girlfriend as a form of expiry.’

As jokes went it wasn’t the greatest, but Rob was pleased that the stranger had felt comfortable enough within minutes of meeting him to make a joke at his expense. Then Phil offered him some coffee and Rob followed him round the kitchen while his new house-mate pointed out things he thought Rob ought to know (One: ‘This is the kitty jar for milk, coffee and tea. We all drop a pound in it once a week. IOUs will be frowned on.’ Two: ‘This is Katie our resident nutter’s cupboard. Never steal food from her unless you’re in the mood to start World War Three.’ Three: ‘This is my cupboard. Never steal food from me unless yours is well stocked so I can steal some back.’).

‘So,’ began Phil, as they sat in the living room with their coffee, ‘what brings you to London? Just finished university?’

Rob nodded. ‘I’ve just got my first job in graphic design.’

‘You’re joking,’ said Phil. ‘Me too.’

‘Where do you work?’ asked Rob.

‘An advertising and design studio called Worker’s Play Time in Soho. What about you?’

Rob laughed. ‘The art department at Ogilvy-Hunter on Charlotte Street.’

‘Good company,’ said Phil, grinning. ‘Maybe we should work together one day.’

They were delighted to have so much in common straight away. Once the basic autobiographical details were out of the way they ventured on to music. They asked each other what bands they liked, and listened to the answers carefully, calculating whether they had sufficient crossover in taste, which, thankfully, they did. Rob felt as if he was a contestant on a TV game show. With each round of questions, the stakes were that much higher and the correct answers harder to come by. Over the afternoon they made their way through the world of graphic design, films currently on general release in West End cinemas, films in general, current TV series, TV series from the seventies, TV series from the eighties, Blackburn Rovers’ current form, Luton Town’s current form, music (again), gigs, magazines, people they hated on TV, women they fancied on TV, travel, newspapers, Formula One, stories about being drunk, stories about good-looking ex-girlfriends, and finally (by this time it was late evening and they had retired to the pub) stories about when they had nearly died doing something horrendously stupid (Phil, playing chicken in the middle of the road with a traffic cone on his head; Rob, potholing in north Wales while under the influence of a very heavy night). By the time they returned to the house – having stopped off on the way to get two kebabs and a large portion of chips – the pair were in no doubt that they had met their perfect match. It was like falling in love, but without the effort or sexual tension and with the knowledge that they would never have to remember each other’s birthday.

Later they were joined by Ian Quinn (a.k.a. Ian One), an old secondary-school friend of Phil; Darren Usher, whom Rob met when Darren worked briefly at Ogilvy-Hunter; brothers Kevin and Ian Manning (a.k.a. Ian Two), whom Rob first met at their local sports hall playing five-a-side football; and Woodsy, whom Rob found asleep in the shower the day after his twenty-fourth birthday party. Over time they became much more than just friends: they were Rob’s family too.