Brand New Friend (7 page)

‘Enlighten me.’

‘Their jobs.’ Rob looked round the room. ‘You see that guy in the glasses and the pale yellow golfing jumper?’ Ashley nodded. ‘He’s a sales manager for a freight company in Stockport. And the guy with cropped hair in the blue shirt?’ Ashley nodded again. ‘The director of a regional radio-plugging firm.’

‘And your point is?’

‘Well, while I can tell you a dozen facts about any of these people – which I won’t – do you know what they could tell you about me?’

‘What?’

‘Nothing,’ said Rob. ‘Not a single one asked me what I did for a living.’

‘But you don’t want to be asked what you do for a living, do you?’

‘That’s not the point,’ said Rob. ‘They weren’t interested. I’m never going to make friends up here if everyone I meet is like this. I’m beginning to empathise with those
Sex and the City
girls, banging on about how there are no eligible men left in New York because all the good ones have been taken. That’s how I feel. All the good male friends have been grabbed and all that’s left are these boring, self-interested thirty-something zombies who can only talk about their jobs and house prices.’

‘Come on,’ said Ashley, ‘don’t give up yet. How about this? We give it one more hour, you mingle a bit more and then, if it’s still not happening for you, I promise we’ll go home.’

‘One more hour?’

‘Yes.’

‘Okay. You’re on.’

‘Look,’ said Ashley, waving at a post-pub influx of people, ‘Chris, Bella and that lot have arrived. You’ve never really talked to them . . . and I’m pretty sure they won’t go on about house prices. Maybe you should try them tonight.’

‘In a bit,’ replied Rob, despondently. ‘But now I need to take a leak.’

Rob was on the stairs waiting to go to the loo. There were at least six people ahead of him and although he had been standing in the queue for a few minutes it wasn’t getting any shorter. As minutes passed by others became restless and a rumour circulated that a woman had locked herself into the bathroom in floods of tears. Rob was mildly amused by his companions’ restrained indignation. At last, he thought, a tearful woman in a locked bathroom – no party’s complete without one.

Gradually the queue diminished as another rumour spread of a loo somewhere on the ground floor. Soon only Rob and a tallish man in a blue shirt and cream chinos were still waiting.

‘Hi,’ said the man, turning to Rob. ‘Pleased to meet you. I’m Jono Adams – I’m mates with Miranda’s husband Carl.’

‘Hi,’ said Rob, and shook his hand. ‘I’m Rob, Ashley Mclntosh’s partner – I think I met you briefly at Miranda and Carl’s wedding.’

‘Ah, yes,’ said Jono. ‘I thought I recognised you. You’ve just moved here from London. Miranda asked me a while ago if I’d go for a drink with you – introduce you to a few people up here. Can’t remember why I didn’t get in touch. Still, I expect you’re settled now.’

‘Yeah,’ replied Rob. ‘Absolutely.’

‘What do you think’s going on in there?’ said Jono, jabbing a finger at the bathroom door.

Rob shrugged. ‘Don’t know. Do you think we should tell Miranda or somebody?’

Jono shook his head. ‘Leave it to me,’ he said, and proceeded to bang on the door so hard that Rob thought it would fly off its hinges.

‘Hello?’ bellowed Jono. ‘Is anyone in there?’

There was no reply.

‘Right,’ said Jono, ‘I’m going to find a screwdriver and do something about it.’

At that moment there was a metallic click from inside the bathroom. The handle turned and the door opened to reveal a pretty, dark-haired girl in a green top and jeans. She had dark brown eyes, and an open, almost innocent face. Even though she had done her best to tidy herself up it was clear that she had been crying.

‘About time too,’ said Jono. Then, without another word, he brushed past the girl into the bathroom and locked the door.

‘Are you all right?’ asked Rob. The girl was leaning on the wall as if she was trying to keep herself upright.

‘I’m fine,’ she replied, in a light Manchester accent.

‘You don’t look fine.’

‘It’s nothing. I’ve just had a bit too much to drink, that’s all. I’ll be fine.’ She took a step forward but completely misjudged it and would have fallen over if Rob hadn’t stepped forward to catch her.

‘Listen,’ he said, helping her to sit down on the stairs, ‘just have a rest for a bit.’

She nodded and looked up at him. ‘Don’t suppose you’ve got a ciggie, have you?’

‘I don’t smoke, I’m afraid.’

She sighed heavily, stood up and started to go down the stairs.

‘Where are you off to now?’ asked Rob.

‘I need a smoke. There’s an all-night garage up the road. Sean and I drove past it in the taxi on the way here.’

Rob wondered who ‘Sean’ was and, more importantly, why he wasn’t looking after this girl, who clearly needed it.

‘Are you sure about walking there on your own at this time of night?’

‘I’ll be okay,’ she replied. ‘Thanks for asking, though.’

‘Well, how about this?’ said Rob, as they reached the bottom stair. ‘You stay here and I’ll nip out to get your fags for you.’

‘You’d do that for me?’ asked the girl.

‘It’s not a big deal. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.’

‘Well, I need some fresh air. How about we both go?’

‘Are you sure?’ asked Rob. ‘You don’t know me.’

‘Yeah, I do,’ she replied. ‘You’re the bloke who’s being nice to me. What more do I need to know?’

‘Well, how about my name for starters?’ Rob held out his hand. ‘I’m Rob.’

‘I’m Jo,’ said the girl. ‘Pleased to meet you.’

‘So,’ said Rob, as they headed up the road towards the garage. It was cold now and their coats were buttoned to the chin. ‘What do you do?’

‘Oh, not that again.’ Jo sighed. ‘Why is everyone so obsessed with what people do for a living?’

Rob laughed. ‘I only asked because I’ve been conditioned into it by everyone I’ve met tonight.’

Jo smiled. ‘I’ll forgive you. But why don’t we have a conversation where we don’t talk about what we do for a living, where we live, where we’re from and, above all, why I locked myself in the bathroom?’

‘I can’t even ask that? Why not?’

‘Because, believe me, the answer will bore you as much as it frustrates me.’

‘So, what do you want me to do? Talk about myself?’

‘Oh, no,’ said Jo, quickly. ‘At the minute I think you’re an okay bloke but if I find out too much about you I might change my mind. Let’s stick to general chit-chat.’

Rob found himself smiling at her. He couldn’t help it. There was something about her that was instantly appealing. She was attractive, too, but he was sure she wasn’t flirting with him, just being her slightly oddball, slightly depressed, slightly drunken self. ‘What do you fancy talking about?’ he asked.

‘Anything.’

‘Well, what interests you?’

‘No, no, no, no,’ said Jo, wagging a finger. ‘I can see what you’re doing and it won’t work.’

Rob was confused. ‘I wasn’t doing anything.’

‘If I’d answered your question I’d have given away something about myself – that I like flowers or Johnny Depp films before he went all rubbish. Things that would’ve revealed far too much about me. Anyway, there’s no skill in talking about stuff like that. Whatever happened to real conversation?’

‘It’s alive and kicking . . . somewhere.’ Rob grinned.

He stopped when they reached the end of the road. ‘If this isn’t too personal a question – right or left?’

‘I thought it was right,’ said Jo, ‘but I might be mistaken. I’m rubbish with directions.’

‘I think left.’

‘Fair enough,’ replied Jo. ‘What do I know about anything?’

‘Okay,’ said Jo. ‘Here’s a topic of conversation for you.’

‘Go on,’ said Rob.

‘Us,’ she replied. ‘You. Me. Here. Right now. We’re a topic of conversation.’

‘We are?’

‘I think so.’

‘In what way?’

‘In every way. For instance, you’re a bloke and I’m not.’

Rob nodded. ‘Well spotted.’

‘Well, isn’t that interesting?’

‘In what way?’

‘Well,’ she began, pushing her hands deeper into her pockets, ‘what do you think is happening here?’

‘Is it a trick question?’ asked Rob. ‘Because as far as I’m aware we’re looking for a garage so you can buy some fags.’

‘But why?’

‘Because you smoke.’

Jo laughed. ‘But why are you here with me?’

Finally Rob caught on to what she was getting at. ‘Do you think I’m here because I fancy you?’

‘I doubt it. I’m guessing I’m not your type.’

Rob laughed. ‘And my type would be?’

‘That blonde girl I saw you talking to earlier. Girlfriend?’

‘I thought we weren’t doing personal information.’

‘You’re right,’ said Jo. ‘And I’m too nosy for my own good sometimes.’

‘I bet you are,’ replied Rob. ‘But, yes, that was my girlfriend. Now back to the topic in hand.’

‘Too late,’ said Jo coming to a halt. She pointed across the road to the brightly lit forecourt of a Shell garage. ‘We’re here . . . Do you want anything?’ she asked, as they reached the other side of the road. ‘I mean from the garage,’ she added. ‘Some chocolate maybe?’

‘No, thanks,’ said Rob.

‘How about chewing-gum?’

‘No,’ said Rob, as they approached the cashier’s window where a lone bearded man was sitting. ‘I’m fine.’

Jo seemed disappointed. ‘I can’t get you anything at all?’ She laughed. ‘I’m not your type, you’ve got a stunning girlfriend and I can’t get you any chocolate – what a great night this is.’ She walked up to the cashier’s window. ‘Hi,’ she said to the man, ‘I’d like some Golden Virginia, a packet of filters and some Rizlas.’

The man reached to the shelf behind him. ‘Which papers do you want?’ he asked. ‘Red or blue?’

‘Blue,’ said Jo, smiling, ‘like your eyes.’

The man, whose eyes were quite clearly dark brown, laughed raucously.

‘Oh, and can I have some chocolate?’ she asked, then mulled over what to choose. ‘A Twix and – no,’ she corrected herself, ‘a Dairy Milk, one of the large bars, and a Caramel too.’ She added, by way of explanation, ‘I’ve had a bit of a rough night.’ She dipped into her bag and pulled out a ten-pound note, which she slipped under the protective counter shield before the man had scanned in the items that were now piled up beside the till.

As he passed her her change and the purchases Jo peered through the Plexiglas at the name-tag on the man’s jumper. ‘Thank you, Barrington Farrelly,’ she said, with a smile. ‘Hope you have a good night.’ Barrington Farrelly smiled and nodded at her.

‘Do you mind if we sit over there while I roll myself a ciggie?’ she asked Rob, indicating the low wall that enclosed the forecourt.

‘Not at all,’ he replied, and they walked across to it, then sat down. Rob watched as she opened the rolling tobacco, filters and papers, then began to construct a cigarette. She dropped two moderate pinches of tobacco on to a paper, then rolled it between her forefingers and thumbs until the contents were tight enough for her to add a filter. Once this was done she licked the gummed edge and sealed it. The whole process took less than a minute. She held up the cigarette and grinned.

‘Perfect,’ she said, admiring her handiwork.

‘I wouldn’t know,’ said Rob. ‘I’ve never smoked rollies – even when I did smoke. I could never be bothered with all that fiddling. How come you don’t smoke proper cigarettes?’

‘Does it bother you?’ asked Jo.

‘Not really,’ said Rob. ‘It’s just that . . . well, I’m curious. Not just about you, but about people like you who smoke rollies. I mean, what’s it all about? You can clearly afford to buy proper grown-up cigarettes, so why make out you’re still a poverty-stricken student?’

‘You’re a right cheeky sod when you want to be.’

‘Really?’ replied Rob. ‘That’s news to me.’

‘Why do I do this?’ Jo examined her cigarette. ‘Because it’s creative. I made it. No one else, just me. A minute ago it didn’t exist and now it does. And, right now, making rollies is the only creative pleasure I have.’

Rob laughed. ‘Why don’t you take up painting or pottery or something?’

‘I once wrote a novel,’ said Jo, casually. ‘Does that count?’

‘I’m impressed. Was it published?’

‘If it was, do you think I’d be making roll-ups as a creative outlet?’ Jo stood up and waved at an oncoming black cab. ‘Listen,’ she said, turning to Rob. ‘It’s been lovely – you’ve been lovely – but I’d better get off.’

‘Of course.’ Rob held out his hand and she shook it. ‘It was nice to meet you, Jo.’

‘And it was nice to meet you, too.’ She kissed his cheek. ‘Thanks for looking after me,’ she whispered, ‘and tell your girlfriend from me she’s a lucky woman.’

Rob watched as she climbed into the cab and it began to move off. Just as he was about to turn away, though, it stopped abruptly. Jo wound down her window. ‘I’ve got something for you,’ she called, as Rob walked over to the cab. ‘I’m keeping the chocolate but I want you to have all this.’ She handed Rob the tobacco, filters and Rizla papers. ‘What’s this for?’ asked Rob looking at the items in his hands.

‘For you,’ Jo replied. ‘Because everybody needs a bit of creativity in their lives sometimes.’

The taxi pulled off again and Rob watched until it had disappeared.

When he got back to the party he found Ashley talking to the same group of friends she had been with when he left.

‘How did you get on?’ asked Ashley. ‘Meet anyone new?’

‘I did, actually,’ replied Rob, almost wistfully, ‘but I doubt I’ll see them again.’ He changed the subject. ‘Are you ready to make a move, then?’