Kiss Me First (30 page)

And people got divorced, didn’t they? If they fell in love with someone else? And that other person was available?

These weren’t the kind of questions that could be answered by Google, and, not for the first time, I wished that Tess was around to advise me. But then, I knew what she would say. She would tell me I shouldn’t have expected anything from Connor in the first place. She thought that all men were, I quote, just ‘horny little toads’, who would do exactly as little as they could get away with. She didn’t say it with regret or anger but with casual resignation, as if it were just a fact, written into their biological code.

During one of our conversations I took issue with this view, pointing out that it was a sweeping generalization which didn’t hold up on several points. By the same token, women should all share certain characteristics too, and Tess and myself were examples of how two people could share a gender yet barely any similar personality traits. I also pointed out that this ‘toad’ quality was not much in evidence in her own dealings with men, most of whom seemed keen for more commitment from her than she was willing to give them. Actually, I said, from the evidence of her life and from what I could garner about the supposed differences in the sexes, it seemed that she was the one playing the supposed ‘man’s role’, hopping between partners.

I remember she was lying on her back on her bed as we talked, so I couldn’t see her face for much of the conversation, but at that point she sat up and looked directly at the camera, her head tilted to one side and an amused look on her face.

‘Babe, no offence but I’m not sure you’re qualified to advise on sexual politics,’ she said.

But over the last few months I had realized something: that just because Tess said something with total conviction, it didn’t mean that she was right. Back then, it was true, she was far more knowledgeable about relationships than me and I had little to back up a challenge to her assertions. Now, though, I had had some experience myself and did feel qualified to make my own judgements – and I just didn’t agree that all men were the same and could not be trusted. Each person and relationship was complex and unique. And I knew Connor far better than Tess ever did.

I realized that I had to talk to him, as soon as possible.

The next day I could was Monday. I considered going down early to his office to catch him as he arrived for the day but decided against it; he was often late, I knew, and might be rushed and flustered. A better time would be when he left the office for lunch.

On the Monday morning I woke early, at 10 a.m., feeling eager and nervous in equal measure. I couldn’t sit still, and the prospect of waiting in the flat for two hours until it was time to leave was unappealing, so I made the decision to walk to Temple. I hadn’t walked that far before, ever, but this was an important, life-changing day and it felt appropriate to be bold.

Once again I put on my new skirt, and brushed my hair until it rose from my scalp with static. Luckily, Jonty was away for a few days visiting his parents, so I didn’t have to think of an excuse for my smartness. I left the flat and made my way down to the Thames path. It was a nice day for October; the city gleamed in the sunlight and the air was fresh and invigorating – not that I needed energizing. The tide was low, and just before Tower Bridge I noticed a group of people down there, using their hands and tools to dig around in the exposed river bed. I recalled Jonty arriving home filthy one day and enthusing about a new hobby of his called mud-larking, which involved scavenging for artefacts from the Thames’ sediment; perhaps that was what these people were doing.

Excitement made me walk quickly and the journey to Temple took less time than my route planner predicted. By the time I reached my bench it was only 12.15 p.m., at least three-quarters of an hour before Connor would venture out for his sandwich. I felt frustrated at the prospect of waiting, until it occurred to me that now I didn’t have to. After all, if I was going to reveal the truth, it was no longer necessary to engineer a meeting; I could just go into his office and ask to see him.

I walked across to the black door and pressed the intercom. A female voice answered and I stated loudly and clearly that I was there to see Connor Devine. I was buzzed into a small, surprisingly shabby reception area. The woman behind the desk looked at me curiously, and asked whether I had an appointment. No, I replied, I was here on an urgent personal matter. She asked my name, picked up her phone and dialled a three digit number.

‘Connor, there’s a Leila here to see you,’ she said, and at that, hearing it so baldly stated, my confidence faltered. I stepped backwards and opened my mouth to say I was leaving but before I could speak Connor had appeared through a side door, as if he’d been waiting just behind it.

He looked at me and frowned, then glanced over to the receptionist, as if to say, ‘Is this her?’ She nodded, and he looked back at me.

‘I’m sorry, do I know you?’ he said.

‘Yes,’ I said. My resolve flooded back. ‘Come outside.’

He frowned again, but followed me out onto the street. I walked a few paces away from the office, and turned to face him. Connor looked back at me and, absurd as it sounds, it was as if an electrical current passed between us. In just a few seconds I absorbed every detail of him: the pink tinge around his eyes; the thick, neat stubble; those wings of hair, covering the piercing in the top of his left ear that he’d had done whilst drunk in Thailand on his year off.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said again. ‘Have we met?’

‘Yes,’ I said, nodding firmly.

His eyes searched my face.

‘Are you Tobias’s sister?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘I don’t know Tobias. I’m Leila.’ I realized I hadn’t really thought out how I was going to approach this. ‘I know Tess.’

His expression changed, softening for an instant and then becoming more alert. He shifted on his feet and glanced around.

‘Who are you?’ He looked at me closely. ‘Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?’

Perhaps best not to remind him of our previous meetings yet, I thought. ‘I told you,’ I said. ‘I’m a friend of Tess’s.’

‘Is she all right?’ he said. ‘Has something happened to her?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘Well, yes. I need to tell you something. Can we sit down?’

I motioned towards the bench and we sat. I took yesterday’s newspaper out of my bag and laid it on his lap. He gave me a quizzical look, before picking it up and looking at the front page. It was only then that I noticed the ring on his left hand. Had it always been there, or had he taken it off when I met him before?

After a few seconds, he put the paper down.

‘I’m sorry, I’m at a total loss as to what this is all about and I’m very busy. Has something happened to Tess?’

‘Yes. But first you need to know about Adrian Dervish,’ I said, indicating the paper. ‘Apparently encouraging people to commit suicide.’

‘Right,’ he said, impatient. ‘And?’

I had presumed our conversation would flow naturally, like it did online, but that was not the case. It no longer felt like Connor and I had a special connection; in fact, at that moment he might as well have been a total stranger. I felt panicked that things were not progressing as I had anticipated, and changed tack – perhaps too abruptly.

‘Tess is dead,’ I said.

I watched his face carefully as I said the words. There was a twitch at his eyebrows, but his features remained impassive.

‘What?’

‘She killed herself,’ I said.

‘When?’ he said quietly.

I paused, knowing that after I answered this question, nothing would be the same. Connor had turned away and was staring into the middle distance, his mouth slightly ajar. It wasn’t too late, I thought. I could just tell him that Tess had died that morning, in Sointula, then get up and walk away. But if I did that he would never know he had been writing to me. Our relationship would be over and I would almost certainly never see or hear from him again.

‘When?’ he said again, turning back towards me.

I laid my hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture and took a breath.

‘Four months ago,’ I said.

He looked up sharply. His eyes had almost disappeared, like they did when he was amused, only now he wasn’t smiling.

‘That’s impossible. We emailed yesterday.’

‘You weren’t writing to her,’ I said. ‘Well, that’s not true. I mean, you were writing to her, but it wasn’t her reading the emails. Or replying. It was me.’

He stared at me, and when he finally spoke his voice had lowered to something like a snarl.

‘What the fuck are you talking about? Who
are
you?’

His aggressive tone startled me. The image of him walking towards Chrissie and the children in the car resurfaced, and I felt indignant.

‘I told you. I’m a friend of Tess’s – a much better friend than you. I know her a thousand times better than you do.’

‘What are you saying?’

‘I told you,’ I said, exasperated. ‘Tess is dead, and I . . .’

‘Did you kill her?’ He stood up suddenly and stepped backwards away from the bench, staring at me like I was a dangerous dog.

‘No!’ I said. ‘I helped her!’ My indignation suddenly dissipated and, to my dismay, I felt on the verge of tears. ‘Please sit down.’

After a moment, he did, but again turned away so all I could see of his face was a muscle twitch at his jawline.

‘I was only doing what she asked me to do,’ I explained. ‘She wanted to die but she didn’t want to upset her family and friends, and so she asked me if I would take over her life, so that she could quietly slip away and—’

‘And kill herself?’ said Connor.

‘Yes,’ I said.

Again Connor rose from the bench, but this time he didn’t step away. He had his back to me and I watched from behind as he produced a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from his trouser pocket. I heard a click and watched his slim shoulders rise and fall under his suit jacket as he inhaled.

‘I thought you’d given up,’ I said, without really thinking.

The hand holding the cigarette paused in midair, before continuing on its path. After several more inhales he spoke again, without turning around.

‘Let me get this straight,’ he said. I could tell he was making an effort to keep his voice measured. ‘You’re claiming that Tess was involved with that nutter, she killed herself, and you – whoever you are – encouraged her to do it?’

‘I didn’t “encourage” her to do anything. It was her own decision,’ I said, and briefly explained how I’d met Adrian and my involvement with Tess had come about. I talked to his back, staring at the pinstripes of his jacket, willing him to turn around. ‘She was in sound mind,’ I added. ‘She knew what she wanted.’

Connor was silent for some seconds, then dropped the cigarette. He didn’t squash it out with his shoe and the smoke drifted in my direction. I didn’t mind, as I usually did; somehow it didn’t smell as nasty as other people’s. Then, at last, he turned to face me and said, as if it had only just dawned on him, ‘You mean, I’ve been writing to
you
all this time?’

I nodded, and smiled. It wasn’t surprising he had taken a while to digest the truth: there was a lot to take in. Now, I hoped, the implications were becoming clear. He thought the person he had fallen in love with was in Canada, out of reach, but actually, she was right here in front of him.

Connor was staring at me, but I couldn’t fully read his expression. I tried to imagine what was going on in his head, and it occurred to me that he didn’t know where he stood with me, Leila. He might think I was just doing my job when I wrote to him; that I couldn’t care less about him.

‘I meant it all, you know,’ I said. ‘Everything I wrote.’

He didn’t say anything, just continued to stare at me. I started to feel a little flustered, and found more words coming out of my mouth.

‘I’m – I’m not going out with anyone, you know. I’m single. And available.’

Finally, at this, his mouth curled into something like a smile, and he spoke, slowly and clearly.

‘Are you fucking insane?’

Now it was my turn to be lost for words. Connor looked me up and down in an exaggerated manner, still wearing that odd half-smile.

‘You really think I would go out with
you
?’ he said.

It felt as if a balloon had suddenly been inflated inside my chest. My breathing turned shallow, and for a few moments I could do nothing except stare at Connor. He looked steadily back at me; now he was ugly, his face a stranger’s. And then, just as suddenly, I was galvanized by fury.

‘Well, I suppose it would be hard for you to go out with anyone, wouldn’t it,’ I said, ‘since you’re already married!’

Connor flinched.

‘I saw you! You and Chrissie and the children, all cosy in the car. You said you’d split up ages ago! You said you were in love with me and wanted to be with me. Why did you say that? I . . .’

‘What the fuck?’ said Connor. ‘When did you see us? Are you stalking me?’

I shook my head, furious that he was trying to evade my point.

‘You said you were in love with me,’ I repeated, loudly and slowly, as if speaking to a child.

‘Ssssh,’ hissed Connor, before softening his expression for the benefit of someone behind me. I turned to see that a couple of his colleagues had emerged from the office for lunch, and were glancing at us with curiosity. Connor gave them a nod and a smile, which was wiped off his face the instant they passed out of sight.

‘You said you were in love with me . . .’ I began again.

‘Stop saying that,’ he said. ‘I don’t even know you.’

‘I’m Tess!’ I said, almost shouting. How could he still not get it? ‘Don’t you understand?
I’m Tess.
’

Connor gave a dry, horrible laugh.

‘I don’t know what the fuck is going on here, but I’m sure of one thing, and that is that you are definitely not Tess.’

‘Of course I’m not
actually
Tess.’ By now I was waving my arms about, and anger and frustration meant my thoughts came tumbling out in no sensible order. ‘Those things you wrote – were they lies? I told you about the pig’s trotter! You said that you laughed in court out of happiness, just at the thought of me! Was that true?’