The Best Thing I Never Had (29 page)

The quad fell into silence as Demi stared her down, obviously choosing his words with care. Finally he shifted, pushing away from the wall and approaching her.

‘Although I pointed out that it was totally secondary to everything else that I’d come to say, I did say that I had feelings for you, yes, and I asked if he would be adverse to us ever being together.’

Sukie covered her face with her hands. ‘Did you tell him that you were gay?’ she asked, miserably, voice muffled. Demi made an impatient sound and moved even closer.

‘I told you, I’m not gay!’ His voice was the closest to angry that she’d ever heard it; Sukie stopped herself from shrinking away. ‘And even so, what business is it of his? Who I’ve slept with is only my business,
mine
. And yours, if you wanted to be with me. That’s it.’

Sukie had no immediate answer. She kept her face hidden in her hands. ‘And what did he say to all this?’ she asked finally. When Demi hesitated before answering, she repeated herself, volume rising to an almost-shout. ‘What did he say?’

‘He said he didn’t realise. And that he wants to talk to you. At first he just told me off for telling him off but he calmed down pretty quickly.’ His voice grew gentle again. ‘He said he thought you wanted to be at home still. He thought you were doing it to stay close to your mother.’

Sukie stiffened. Her immediate reaction was to argue against this ridiculous, insulting over-simplification.

‘I reckon it’s a bit of both,’ Demi said, softly, before she could formulate a response. ‘He wants you near, and there’s a part of you that wants to be there. It’s only natural.’ Demi tilted his head, considering her.

‘I always thought your dad was some sort of monster, like a step-mother from a fairy tale, keeping you locked away at home, cooking and cleaning. But he’s actually a good man. He just wants you to be happy. It’s been you as much as him, all along; you’ve been trapping yourself at home and projecting all your shit onto him, haven’t you?’

Sukie finally dropped her hands, feeling the evening air blow cold onto her flushed face.

‘It’s not like that really,’ she insisted, although a small part of her was realising that it could well be. ‘I thought he’d be disappointed if I left home, moved into a bedsit, got some dead-end job to support me whilst I wrote. He’s a businessman. He’s ridiculously practical. And I thought, I really, really thought that he’d totally disapprove of you.’ She looked at him, glumly. Demi finally breached the remaining space between them and put his arms around her.

‘Honey,’ he said, ‘why ever would you think that? I would be a fantastic boyfriend. You can get a reference from Rob.’ Sukie groaned at the bad taste of his joke. ‘And kind of like what Miles said earlier, about Nicky: I would be an even better man, every day, for you, but – to be honest – I don’t even think I’d have to try that hard to make you really happy, and calm, like I think you haven’t truly been for a long while. What’s not to approve of there?’

There was silence for a while as Demi kissed her, and she kissed him back, with a little more
something
than she’d ever let herself put into it before. They were startled apart by clanging, the building’s old clocktower striking the hour. It was seven o’clock, so much of this strange day already slipped away and gone forever.

‘Besides,’ Demi said, against her ear; his voice was husky and hushed, like they were back in the library on the day that they first met.
Want to go for a coffee?
he’d murmured, just like that. ‘By the end of the year I’m going to be a fully qualified lawyer, remember? And your dad sure liked that.’

Leigha sat down without preamble. She was half-cut and looking bad on it. Her make-up was caking in some places and she was sweaty and shiny in others. It was the first time they’d been alone since she’d broken up with him.

‘I see your
girlfriend
–’ She gestured erratically towards Iona with the hand that held her drink; the wine slopped dangerously against the sides of the glass. ‘- has found someone more her own age to talk to?’ She laughed; it turned into a bit of a snort, but at least she was still sober enough to look embarrassed by it.

Iona was over on another table, deep in conversation with Miles’ sixteen year old sister, giving her UCAS and university application advice, of all things. Johnny felt a stirring in his chest, but it wasn’t the one he normally felt when Leigha was involved. It was annoyance; almost distaste.

‘Where’s Roddy?’ he asked. Leigha shrugged. Her wine swilled around inside its glass again.

‘Have I told you that you’re looking good, Johnny?’ she said suddenly, her focus sharpening. Johnny waited for the elation he expected to feel at the compliment to hit; he felt nothing. He looked almost accusingly at his bottle of beer.
Wine before beer and you’ll feel queer
; was that what was going on? Leigha took a big drink. Her lips were the same dark red as the wine; Johnny wasn’t sure whether it was a lipstick or stain from the drink itself.

‘You haven’t gotten fat or anything,’ Leigha continued, much to Johnny’s bemusement.

‘Yeah, well…’ Johnny scratched his nose in confusion. ‘That wouldn’t be a real good look for a sports presenter, would it?’

‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a suit, either,’ Leigha said.

‘What about Graduation?’ Johnny asked. Leigha was in all his graduation photos, smiling out at him from the walls of his parents’ house whenever he went home to visit them.

‘I guess,’ she said, nonchalantly. They lapsed into an uneasy silence.

On the dance floor, Harriet and Nicky held one another, like they were hugging instead of dancing. Adam and Miles stood to the side, talking and half-watching the girls. Adam snapped a photo using his mobile phone; the girls protested faintly that they hadn’t been ready for a picture. Demi and Sukie had reappeared after a notable absence but looked none the worse for wear as they too just held each other and swayed to the music. The song was
Total Eclipse of the Heart
, which Johnny found a little depressing for a wedding reception, but what did he know.

Across the room, Iona and Miles’ sister rose to join the others, Nicky and Harriet pulling apart to include them. The four girls danced in a loose circle, giggling, all sweeping, enthusiastic movements, shouting out the lyrics along with the track as the song headed towards its crescendo. Iona was especially beautiful in that moment, her face flushed, her dark hair spilling out behind her as she moved. Of course, the image of her dancing this way with Nicky and Harriet couldn’t help but evoke memories of Leigha, who for years had danced in this same, silly, natural way with those same two girls.

Johnny glanced at Leigha; she too was staring out across the dance floor, a sad little slope to her mouth; Johnny guessed she was remembering too.

‘Ley,’ he said, softly. ‘Can I ask you something?’ She nodded, eyes still locked on the other girls. ‘Did you ever love me?’

She turned immediately and stared, her posture stiffening, obvious alarm penetrating through any buzz caused by the wine, her old walls rising straight up.

‘Johnny,’ she said, and at least her tone was apologetic. ‘I never said I did, did I?’

No, no she hadn’t. He’d forgotten that. How could he have forgotten that?

‘Could you have? Ever loved me, I mean?’ Despite his earlier numbness towards Leigha, this was hurting him for sure; he wasn’t sure though if it was the equivalent of picking a scab or of cauterising a wound, or why he was even asking, not really.

‘Johnny…’ She sighed out his name, as if this was hard for her. ‘I don’t know. You are … ’ She caught herself just in time to correct her tense. ‘You were just too much, you know? I told you all this at the time…’

‘So tell me again,’ Johnny insisted. Leigha sighed again. For a heartbeat or two, nobody spoke.

‘All this raking over ancient history is boring,’ Leigha said finally, before pausing to see off the remnants of her wine. ‘I’m going to go find Roddy and another drink. See you later?’ She was standing before she’d even finished her sentence, and gone before Johnny had a chance to reply.

Johnny sat in silence – alone at the large table – seeing off his own drink, feeling objective for the first time in forever. He couldn’t quite believe it. He’d given up his dreams, changed all his plans for a flighty, boozy girl who had never even told him that she loved him? God. He wanted to shake his twenty-one year old self. What were you thinking? You are one lucky fuck, he told himself, sternly. So you’d better not pull any shit like that again; your lifetime luck quota has probably been exceeded.

There was still part of him – not even that deep inside – that wanted to follow her, take the drink from her hand, sober her up, look after her, and somehow make her love him; but that part of him was quieter now, and felt a little ashamed of itself.

The track changed and drew his attention back to the group on the dance floor. Iona was laughing, holding her hair bunched up in her hands as she flapped her hand in her face in an effort to cool down after her exertions dancing. The lights from the DJ booth shot colours across her: pink, yellow, blue.

Maybe his luck wasn’t out, not quite yet. It would be interesting to see though, if he could ever love Iona; if there was something true there, or if he’d only been drawn to her thanks to the looks and little idiosyncrasies that she unknowingly shared with Leigha. He knew one thing for sure, though: either way, he wouldn’t mess her around.

Iona seemed to sense his attention on her and caught his eyes across the span of the room. She smiled – really smiled – waving enthusiastically. Johnny felt a flutter in his chest again; a nice one, this time.

The new track was Journey’s
Don’t Stop Believing.
Much more appropriate, Johnny felt, rising to his feet to join his friends and his girlfriend on the dance floor.

The feel of the evening was getting loose and informal enough that she didn’t think anyone would mind, so Harriet kicked off her heels when she returned to her seat, rubbing her bare toes against the prickly carpet as she stretched out the ache in her feet.

As if her leaving the dance floor had been the invitation they’d been waiting for, Leigha and Sukie moved in on Nicky. Harriet watched them, trying to feel detached, and failing. The night was wearing on, and the more tired she got and the more she had to drink, the sadder about everything she felt. Once again she considered retiring to her room. She wasn’t wearing a watch, but surely it was getting on to nine o’clock? Guests with young kids or those who had a long drive home were already saying their goodbyes, so she wouldn’t be the first to leave.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Adam. He thumped a glass bottle of clear liquid down in front of her, and liberated two shot glasses from the pocket of his suit trousers before sitting down. Harriet reached out and turned the bottle around so that she could read the labelling on the front: Grey Goose vodka.

She arched an eyebrow at Adam. ‘What’s this?’

Adam reached for the bottle again. ‘Best Man and Maid of Honour perk.’ He poured two healthy shots of vodka. Harriet shook her head.

‘No thanks.’

‘Oh come on,’ Adam laughed. ‘I know it isn’t pilfered Malibu but…’ With a quick motion he did his shot.

‘Adam,’ Harriet laughed. ‘No. Two things I was explicitly told not to do tonight was hang around too much with you or get drunk; therefore doing shots of neat vodka with you is really not on the agenda!’

‘Who told you not to hang around with me?’ Adam asked, his interest immediately piqued.

‘Ah, nobody. My friend.’

‘Annie?’

‘Yeah, Annie.’ Harriet reached out and toyed with her empty shot glass, listlessly. Not for the first time that night she reflected on how much easier she would be finding things if Annie were there too.

‘Well, Annie sounds like a sensible lady,’ Adam smiled. ‘So let’s drink to her.’ Harriet gave him a ‘nice try’ look. ‘To Annie?’ he tried again, holding the vodka bottle up and giving her what he hoped was a gold medal level smile. Harriet rolled her eyes.

‘To Annie,’ she agreed, pushing her shot glass towards him to be filled. ‘Not too much.’

Adam watched her profile as she threw her head back and did the shot, the corners of her eyes crinkling at the vodka’s bite.

‘Never ever, have I ever…’ he chanted, as he filled up his own shot glass with about a half measure.

‘Uh-uh, no way.’ Harriet shook her head, but there was a smile on her face all the same.

‘Harry. You will probably remember from your time as a student here that it is much more socially acceptable to mask the unhealthy and rapid consumption of shots by saying that it’s a drinking game.’ She laughed.

‘Fine,’ she said, reaching for the bottle and pouring herself her own half measure. ‘But I start. Never ever have I ever been a boy called Adam.’ Adam rolled his eyes.

‘That’s so not the point of this game,’ he said, taking his shot all the same. Harriet was poised to refill his glass the moment it returned to the table top.

‘I thought that this was just a pretence to conceal the fact that we are rapidly consuming an unhealthy number of shots?’ Harriet asked, voice mock-innocent. Adam felt a laugh twitching on his lips.

‘Fair enough,’ he conceded. ‘If that’s how you want to play it. Never ever, have I ever, been a girl called Harriet…’

A contrite-looking Roddy had returned to her side. His equivalent of dancing was to stand in one spot and awkwardly shuffle.

‘Dance with me,’ Leigha ordered, pressing herself against him, catching him at each wrist and placing his hands on her hips. The song playing was something currently in the charts, with a heavy bass line and the occasional interspersing of rap – not really a track conducive to a couple dancing - but Roddy manfully attempted it nevertheless.

Roddy was too tall for her to be able to look over his shoulder; Leigha lay her cheek flat against his chest, feeling one of his shirt buttons pressing on the delicate skin underneath her eye.

Seth and his wife were sitting in one of the corner tables, almost blocked from her view completely by a rather rowdy table of Miles’ Bath University colleagues. The wife was showing something on her phone around the table; probably a picture of her own wedding. Seen them, Leigha thought: nothing to brag about, sweetie. She closed her eyes, shutting them out, concentrating on the thump-thump-thump-thump of Roddy’s heart, louder at this close range than the bass line of the song.