The Best Thing I Never Had (22 page)

Leigha watched the boys bantering, transfixed.

Sukie sought out Demi’s attention and leaned into his solid frame, surveying the group dynamics, already being reasserted. It was funny how everyone looked older, how their lives were so different, but put them all into a room, and they just played out the same old parts. It could be five years ago; they were all together, in a room, and she was watching Leigha, watching Adam.

But they weren’t all in the room yet, were they. Sukie plucked at Demi’s collar, drawing his ear down close to her lips so she could murmur to him.

‘She‘s not here,’ she noted. She’d run Demi through the whole thing in the car; although he’d heard the story before, it felt important to recap, make sure he understood before he met everyone. She’d watched his profile as he watched the road ahead, waiting for the big reaction that usually came when she told the story about what Harriet had done to Leigha, to Adam – to the whole comfortable friendship group – and how she had so coldly used Sukie for cover when her mother was fresh into the ground.

Demi had reached out and laid his large hand over her small one, resting against her thigh.

‘My poor, poor girl,’ was all he had said. ‘I wish I had known you then. You must have been hurting so bad.’

Miles had moved across to the glass doors of the building and was peering through the frosting,

‘I think that’s the cars coming now,’ he announced. He gave Nicky a loaded look, before glancing then towards the lift and the stairs, the unspoken question loud and obvious: where is Harriet? Nicky moved across and pressed the lift call button, presumably to go upstairs and wrench her missing Maid of Honour kicking and screaming from her room. Once again, it could be five years ago, with Harriet loitering around upstairs, too scared to be seen.

Even as Sukie was thinking this, Harriet appeared, slipping like a ghost from the stairwell, for some reason having chosen to teeter down seven flights of stairs in her heels than take the lift. Nicky moved across to her swiftly, locking one of her arms around her shoulders, placing her hand on the opposite arm, moving her squarely into the brightness of the lobby, murmuring to her the whole while, like she was a wild animal who needed to be coaxed and cajoled.

But Harriet didn’t look wild, or terrified. She looked around, alert, taking each face in. She kept a pleasant smile pinned to her face, nodding politely at each person who made eye contact with her. Her hair was grown out, but she had it twisted up and held at the back of her head with a clip, so from face-on she really didn’t look all that different from before. She was the only one of them who wasn’t wearing the past half a decade like a bad outfit.

Johnny was the first to move to greet her, kissing her stiffly on one cheek. His girlfriend was much more familiar; Nicky had to move her arm to let the girl hug Harriet. Sukie watched Leigha from the corner of her eye; she had no love for Harriet Shaw, not anymore, but she had no desire to create unnecessary tension for Nicky and Miles. Leigha had always been the wronged party, so she would take her cue from her.

Leigha tilted her chin almost imperceptivity as she surveyed Harriet, considering her closely until Harriet broke away from conversation with Johnny and his girlfriend and stared straight back at her. It was like a dance; as Harriet swung to face her, Leigha pivoted towards Miles at the door, away from Harriet‘s eye contact, her hair bouncing over her shoulder as she did.

‘So who’s going in which car?’ she asked, loudly.

Adam had surprised her with his quick mental maths again. ‘Let’s us lot grab the six-seater one,’ he’d said, from where he’d moved across to the reception doors. ‘Ladies?’ He’d held the door open as Nicky and Iona had ushered her through and into the larger of the waiting taxis.

She sat there, staring at Adam’s chino-clad legs. Last in, he and Johnny had been subject to the small fold-down seats facing the three girls on the back seat. Miles sat up front with the driver, offering directions unnecessarily. Nicky and Iona made cheerful small talk. She wished she knew if Adam was thinking about her – looking at her, even – but his knees gave up no secrets.

Johnny guffawed as the taxi pulled into a lay-by, only a few minutes from the campus gates. ‘Mauritzo’s?’ he laughed. ‘Bloody hell, Nic, we could have walked this.’

‘We’re grown-ups now,’ Miles grinned over his shoulder from the front passenger seat. ‘No short cuts through private land for us anymore.’

‘Or graveyards,’ Adam grinned back.

‘You guys used to walk through graveyards?’ Iona asked, horrified.

‘It cut at least ten minutes off the walk to Tesco,’ Harriet tried to reason.

‘I am so glad I go to Uni in the city,’ Iona said, shaking her head. ‘A Tesco Metro on every second corner.’

‘And a Sainsbury’s Local on all the others,’ Adam joked.

Through the rear window Harriet watched the other taxi glide to a stop behind them; she noticed that Johnny was watching too. She’d made a stubborn point about never asking Nicky and Miles what had happened between Johnny and Leigha. She was regretting that now.

Iona was a dear thing, whether by nature or put up to it by Annie; she caught Harriet by the arm as she got out of the car. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked, sotto voce. ‘You can sit next to me.’

Harriet had to laugh; it was a harsh, bark of a noise. Adam turned around at the sound and raised an eyebrow quizzically. Leigha exited the second car, smoothing down non-existent wrinkles on the skirt of her dress as she did so.

‘Mauritzo’s,’ Harriet heard her say to her date. ‘Can’t believe this place is still running. Mind you, it’s the only good place around here.’

‘Hey, you’re saying Perfect Pizza doesn’t serve good food?’ Sukie laughed, showing her white little teeth. Their plus ones exchanged a companionable smile; they were the outsiders after all – people with absolutely no feedback to offer about the quality of food in this town – and outsiders had to stick together.

Leigha’s companion had a touch of the golden-boy about him, blond and thick-necked.. Sukie’s guy was metal of a different kind, all bronze skin and hair, eyes dark and watchful. He met her gaze and smiled at her. Harriet dropped her eyes, embarrassed to be caught out. He must know that he was the big question mark of the weekend.

‘She’s never mentioned a boyfriend,’ Nicky had told those in her taxi with a light frown, ‘but they seem really close, like they’ve been together for ages, don’t they? Su isn’t like that with people she doesn’t know really well, is she?’ Harriet had bitten her tongue, refraining from pointing out that – as far as they were all concerned – Sukie could have had a total personality transplant in recent years. She could be that sort of person, now.

The group of ten filed docilely into the restaurant. Harriet looked around at the décor as she entered, wondering if the old place had been refurbished at all, only to find that – perhaps she had since been to too many restaurants – she couldn’t quite remember how it used to look.

Showing good restaurant manners, Johnny moved all the way up along the long table, seating himself in the left corner. Nicky and Miles followed suit on the other side. Harriet settled herself down next to Iona, placing her over-large handbag under the table, trying to ensure it wouldn’t be a tripping hazard for any unfortunate waiters. When she looked up, it was to make eye contact with Adam, who had moved to sit next to Nicky. On the other side of him, Leigha was slipping into her seat.

Sukie paused at the end of the table for a heartbeat; Harriet felt a hot stab of embarrassment. Was she going to refuse to sit down next to her? Were they going to have to pull over an eleventh chair, sit Sukie at the head of the table and leave the spot next to her awkwardly empty? At least, Harriet thought ruefully, it would be a convenient spot for my handbag.

With a gentle hand to Sukie’s back, the bronze stranger side-stepped her and pulled out the chair next to Harriet, turning a smile to her as he sat in it.

‘Demetrios,’ he announced, offering a hand. Harriet shook it gingerly.

‘Harriet,’ she murmured. Silently, Sukie slid into the remaining corner chair. Demetrios’ smile grew wider.

‘Oh, I know.’

She was pretty much sitting the entire length of the table away from him. Aside from the right-hand corner – where her meat of a date had placed himself – you couldn’t get further away. Was it by accident or by design, Johnny wondered, before getting angry with himself for even wondering. He ordered a pint of Peroni as an aperitif to the bottles of wine already ordered for the table; beer before wine, you feel fine and all that.

Iona was holding court, entertaining the upper half of the table with the tale of how she and Johnny had met. She kept looking askance at him, as if for approval, or maybe wanting him to join in with the storytelling.

Leigha – although technically sat on the lower half of the long table – had turned her head from the conversation that end and was watching Iona as she talked, her head even tilted a little as she listened. Somehow she made such a little thing – such a tiny motion – condescending; Johnny remembered that Iona was only nineteen, and at a table full of strangers, and he felt a warm rush of affection for her.

The waiter had returned with the tall, slender glass of Peroni, placing it down in front of Johnny.

‘And a glass of vodka orange, please mate, thanks,’ Johnny said, remembering – just in time – that Iona didn’t drink wine, and realising that she might have been too embarrassed to draw attention to the fact. Her little fingers found his hand under the table and squeezed gratefully.

‘So,’ Demi said, inclining his head closer to hers so he could speak quietly and not interrupt Iona’s anecdote. ‘Do you have big plans to make trouble this weekend? Any best friend you’re going to screw over – or just plain screw?’

Harriet pulled back, her heart thumping against the affront. Demi was still smiling normally; he was teasing. ‘I just want to know,’ he continued, ‘so I can get a good seat for any fireworks.’ He took a drink from his glass of dark red wine to punctuate the image.

‘Look,’ Harriet began, uncertainly. ‘I don’t know what you’ve heard…’

‘Sukie’s version, naturally,’ Demi interjected. ‘And I’m sure by the end of the weekend I’ll have heard everyone else’s version too. So why don’t we just start with yours?’

Harriet reached for her own wine glass but didn’t drink from it, just held it, its weight a comfort in her hand. From across the table, she could see Adam and Leigha through the curve of the glass, refracted small and disproportionate.

Finally she took a resolute sip. ‘I’m sorry.’ She turned to Demi, smiling pleasantly. ‘It’s not in my nature to talk about people behind their backs.’

Demi studied her carefully. ‘Well, they certainly talk about you. You should have heard the bitchfest in that taxi … ’ He let his voice trail off.

Harriet took another sip of wine, swallowing cold down on top of the cold that was already inside her. She steeled her facial expression.

‘All the same,’ she said, shrugging.

Demi smiled at her again, and Harriet realised that all the smiles before had been somewhat less than this one.

‘Harriet Shaw.’ He drew out her name in a tone almost of wonder, like it was the label of some mythical figure. He subtly inclined the lip of his wine glass towards her, a toast. ‘I’d really hoped that I would like you,’ he said.

‘So, how’s everything?’

She had waited until the waiter had taken their food orders and moved off down the table. Adam turned to her, his face impassive. His eyes were the colour of his shirt, of her dress; Leigha felt an agreeable skipping down the length of her spine. He still packed a punch; he made her feel inexact and alive, not unlike the way half a bottle of vodka tended to do.

‘Everything’s fine,’ he replied, carefully, without orientating his body nearer to her, keeping his alliance firmly to the top half of the table. ‘How about you?’

‘Things are really good,’ Leigha gushed. ‘Going really great at work. I made it to Account Executive level a couple of months ago.’

‘Oh, great. Congratulations,’ Adam said, sounding a little bemused.

‘Roddy McCorley.’ Leigha’s view was temporarily blocked by Roddy’s arm, shooting across her in greeting. ‘Good to meet you.’ Perhaps she should have already done this introduction. Adam shook hands awkwardly across Leigha’s torso.

‘Adam. Good to meet you.’

‘It’s good to meet all you fine people,’ Roddy beamed across the table. ‘Nice to meet some of Leigha’s friends. Anyone up for some Moët?’ Leigha pressed her finger tips into her temple, trying to show the group that she was distancing herself from her date’s booming bonhomie. ‘It’s a celebration!’ Roddy continued merrily.

Leigha looked up; the only person who was watching her little display was Harriet. The two made eye contact for the first time in years. Leigha tried to hold it – her first instinct was to stare Harriet down – but the hot–cold flashing of familiarity warring against distaste made her flinch away. Roddy obviously thought she was turning her body companionably into his; he beamed at her.

Miles made a joke, something inconsequential about how funny it was that they were all drinking wine. Johnny recollected that the grocery shop on campus used to sell bottles of dry white for £2.99 – it would have been cheaper to get plastered on that than the beer and spirits they’d drank instead, even when it was late in the term and they’d needed to pool together and buy supermarket value vodka at a fiver a bottle. The memory made Leigha shudder.

A bottle of chilled Moët had been speedily fetched from behind the restaurant’s bar. Roddy popped it expertly, pressing a glass flute close to the neck of the bottle to catch the gush of fizz that spilled forth. He handed this first glass to Leigha. He knew that it was a quirk of hers, preferring the first glass of a bottle of champagne; it was made up bubbles and sharpness, a little bit like herself.

Leigha took a large mouthful of champagne, as if to wash out the lingering taste of the paint-stripper vodka from years ago.

The combination of champagne and nostalgia had made everyone silly and just a little over-loud. Leigha had pointed out that Nicky’s drunk snigger had remained unchanged, with which the rest of the party affectionately agreed. Adam had regaled the horrified plus ones with the story of when Johnny had lost a dare and run naked up and down the length of the high street, covered in brown sauce, enthusiastically slapping his own arse cheeks. Nicky had dusted off the Miles, tequila and the Black Eyed Peas classic. By the end of the meal, the atmosphere felt a little less fake.

When the dessert plates were being ferried away and Miles had pulled out his mobile phone to call for taxis, he’d been shouted down, even by Iona; everyone wanted to walk it. The alumnae in particular were enjoying the softness of familiarity and good memories, and wanted to eke it out, just a little longer.

The party bundled into light-wear coats and jackets and moved off into the night. A cheerfully drunk Johnny immediately launched into an impression of his brown-sauce-bum-slapping dash down this very road. A groaning Leigha supported herself on Sukie’s shoulder as she removed her heels, flexing her white feet against the grey of the pavement.

‘Oh, I’ve done it a thousand times,’ she said, impatiently brushing off Roddy’s protests at her intent to walk barefoot.

‘So,’ Demi said conversationally to Adam. ‘Are you going to be wearing a yellow tie to match the ladies?’ The rather unusual colour of the bridesmaids’ dresses had been a point of discussion at the dinner table; Nicky had only smiled. Harriet had wondered if she was the only person who remembered that their house had had yellow walls; the connection seemed obvious to her.

‘Er, not to my knowledge!’ Adam replied. ‘Unless Miles has one hidden away in his luggage and is planning to spring it on me last minute.’

‘Be afraid!’ Harriet said, in a melodramatic voice. Adam laughed. They looked at one another across the plane of Demi’s chest, the naturalness of that little interchange having caught them by surprise.

It shouldn’t be easy, Harriet told herself, but then again, it always had been, with Adam. Every feeling had always come too easy, maybe that was what had been wrong. In the end, the distrust and loathing had come too easily, too. Besides, weren’t you meant to work at friendship sometimes? At falling in love?

‘I can’t imagine,’ Adam said, interrupting her chain of thought, ‘that yellow looks great on any of you girls.’

‘Well, it doesn’t look good on me, I can tell you,’ Harriet agreed with him ruefully. Demi turned his head; Sukie, bringing up the rear with a barefoot Leigha, was calling his name. He dropped back. ‘First thing I did when I got here, try on that dreaded dress,’ Harriet continued.

‘First thing after our corridor chat,’ Adam corrected her, with a wry smile.

‘Yes, our… chat,’ Harriet agreed, the tone of her voice indicating that there should perhaps be quotation marks around the word chat. A giggle rose up in her throat like the bubbles in the neck of the champagne bottle. Adam smirked.

‘Bloody typical,’ he said, with feeling.

‘What, seeing one another in the corridor?’

‘Yes, it just… couldn’t have been easy, could it?’ Adam said, awkwardly. Harriet thought again about just how easy things could be.

‘I never thought I’d be here again,’ Harriet said, quietly, the unexpected geniality of the night thus far and the alcohol making her tongue loose. Adam quirked an eyebrow at her.

‘Literally, or figuratively?’ he asked.

‘Both,’ Harriet laughed.

‘You didn’t think Miles and Nicky would get married?’ Adam teased.

‘Oh, I knew they probably would,’ Harriet protested, ‘and I knew we’d all be together again. All of us. But, holding it on campus… it packs quite an emotional punch.’

‘Do you miss it?’ Adam asked, suddenly. ‘Here.’

‘Not everything about it,’ Harriet answered, honestly. Adam looked at her impatiently.

‘I don’t mean the bad stuff. Just think about the good stuff,’ he told her. Harriet shook her head.

‘It’s all the same thing,’ she told him. ‘It’s all tangled up in my head.’

‘One bad memory, cancelling out all the good? Years of good?’ Adam pressed, his tone disbelieving.

‘Well, you see, I might remember my 20
^th
birthday party,’ Harriet said. ‘When we took the bus into town and somehow got in to a 21s-and-over bar. We drank about a hundred cocktails on 2-for-1. They were called Jelly Baby, and Leigha and I vomited all purple on the walk home from the bus stop.’ Harriet nodded at the bus stop in question, which they had come in sight of. Adam snorted at the image.

‘The next day we were all completely sick as dogs, nobody could even bear to run to the corner shop, but we were craving bacon sandwiches and we didn’t have any bread in the house,’ Harriet continued. ‘So Nicky lit on the bright idea of heating up this old packet of tortillas that we had in the cupboard. She balanced one on the toaster, and then nothing happened, and we were all looking at it, and suddenly we realised, the toaster was melting underneath it.’

Harriet broke off to smile, remembering the panicked shrieks, how only Sukie had had the consideration to stop Leigha throwing her glass of water over the active toaster and instead unplugged it and threw it out the window into the garden, where it had remained for most of the summer. Had someone thrown it away by the time of their third year start of term house party, where they’d first met Adam and Johnny? She couldn’t quite recall.

‘See? That’s a funny story and a good memory,’ Adam said, nudging her upper arm with his own.

‘Yes, but now when I think about it, my brain just goes, I wonder if they hated me then.’

They lapsed into silence; Adam chewed his lip as he digested what she’d just said. ‘And that’s how it is with me? With all the good memories I gave you?’ he asked, after a moment. Harriet gave him a pained expression.

‘Don’t start that, please. I thought we were going to be friends this weekend?’

‘I’ve kissed you, here,’ Adam said, gesturing at the pavement corner they were approaching. ‘Any particular loathing for this corner?’ Harriet laughed.

‘Okay, alright. I’ve nothing against this corner,’ she conceded. ‘It’s a good corner.’

‘Damn straight,’ Adam agreed.

‘Ohhh.’ Harriet tilted her head back and looked up at the bright, suburban stars. From somewhere behind her Leigha gave a drunken shriek of laughter. ‘There’s nothing quite like old friends.’

‘Nothing quite like ’em,’ Adam echoed in agreement. ‘They know where all the bodies are buried.’

‘Looking back, I just can’t believe the sheer amount of time we
spent together
,’ Harriet said. ‘I mean, us as a whole, as a group,’ she hurriedly clarified. ‘I won’t be able to spend that amount of time with anyone ever again.’

‘What about when you live with a guy, get married?’ Adam disputed. Harriet shook her head.

‘No, because of things like, having to go to work,’ she argued. ‘Leigha, Sukie and I did everything together. For years. Nobody will ever know me as well as they did. It’s just a sad fact. It all comes down to maths, and the dwindling volume of one’s free time.’ Her voice trailed off, sadly. If the people who knew you best of all ended up hating you, she thought, it was probably best to ensure that others never get to know you quite so well anyway.

She glanced up at Adam. His expression was so stung that for a moment she wondered if she’d just spoken that last thought aloud.

The campus gates were looming into view, the clock tower on the old building showing – somewhat appropriately – that the day was almost all ticked away. Here was the sense of an ending that Harriet had grasped for but not felt as her silent father had driven her away from the house on Dell Road.

‘Do you know?’ Harriet murmured to Adam as the archway of the front entry to campus threw a band of shadow across them, suddenly eager to get this out before it was too late. ‘You were probably the best friend, the one who tried hardest to stick by me, prop me up. I really am sorry about, about your birthday, and everything. You deserved better than me doing that. I wish sometimes…’ She paused to collect her thoughts. Adam’s eyes bored into her, even in the darkness of midnight, unnerving her, clamming her thoughts up unspoken inside her throat.