The Best Thing I Never Had (32 page)

‘I love that game,’ Johnny laughed. ‘If you play it properly you find out some wicked stuff. Like, do you remember? That weird Jed guy from down the hall in first year, he admitted that he had herpes and I don’t think he ever got laid again, the whole three years.’

Adam laughed. ‘I don’t even think he understood the rules, poor git.’

‘And you get to find out loads of quality stuff about your mates, too,’ Johnny continued. ‘Like Sukie had kissed a girl.’ Demi’s eyebrows shot up in amusement. ‘Or about your weird genital mole,’ he nodded towards Adam, who practically spat out his drink in alarm.

‘Excuse me!’ he said, laughing through the coughs, ‘I have no such thing!’

‘You said you did!’ Johnny insisted, laughing too. ‘You said it was in the shape of Australia, or something.’

Adam stopped laughing, very abruptly. ‘It’s a birthmark,’ he said, finally. ‘How did you know?’

‘You told me during a game of Never Ever,’ Johnny said, looking a bit worried. ‘Way back. First year. Might have even been our Freshers’ Week?’

‘I did?’

‘Yes,’ Johnny asserted. ‘How else would I know? Wasn’t exactly into peeking at you in the shower, mate, God!’

Adam poured himself a full shot of vodka, glanced at the doors once, then settled back in his chair, letting it go.

The intricate lacing that had been impossible to tie on her own came apart with one tug of the ribbon bow; the dress fell and pooled around Harriet’s feet. She dutifully hung it up.

She considered having a hot shower to chase the chill from her skin but didn’t quite have the energy, slipping straight into her pyjamas instead. She grabbed the glass tumbler from the en-suite and the room temperature bottle of wine from her bag, taking both over to the window and settling herself down on the wide sill. She opened the window as far as the restrictors would allow, swung her legs out of the gap and let them dangle as she poured herself an unsatisfying glass of wine.

She stared out across the rooftops of her old campus, placing and recognising each building, even in the dark. Diagonally to her left was the building where she’d lived in her first year; she tried counting up from the ground and across from the right to work out which had been her window.

She’d just got it worked out when there was a knock at the door; soft, tentative. All the same, Harriet almost spilt her wine.

She’d made the decision not to seek Adam out, even after what Leigha had revealed. There was no point; there was too much water under too many bridges.

But maybe – just maybe – he didn’t agree.

‘One second!’ she called, her voice croaky and odd-sounding. It seemed much more difficult to get her legs back into the room that it had been to swing them out. They didn’t quite seem to support her when she got them back underneath her, and made her way to the door.

Nicky was stood on the other side of it, still splendid in her white wedding dress, although she’d loosened her hair and lost the clip-on veil by now. She looked at Harriet, face all concern.

‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

‘Ah, Nic,’ Harriet said, stepping aside to let her in the room. ‘It’s your wedding night. I’m not the person you should be with.’

‘I wanted to check on you,’ Nicky insisted, as Harriet closed the door behind her.

‘I’m fine,’ Harriet assured her. ‘I’m sorry if I made a scene.’ Nicky waved her hand, dismissively.

‘Well if you did, then I did first, anyway,’ she said. ‘Did Adam upset you?’

‘No.’ Harriet hesitated. ‘No, it was just me being high-strung. I owe him an apology, really, but I’m too chickenshit to give it to him. He never did sleep with Leigha, apparently.’

‘I never really thought he did,’ Nicky admitted, quietly. Harriet twisted her mouth.

‘Well. I guess it’s good to know.’

‘You guys were getting on well,’ Nicky began, gently. ‘Miles and I were excited; we always hoped you would take this opportunity to put all the old crap behind you. You guys were good together.’ Harriet laughed mirthlessly.

‘Apparently not!’ she said. ‘Right person, wrong time is the best we can chalk everything up as, I think. Either way, it doesn’t matter now.’

‘Harry.’ Nicky took her shorter friend by her upper-arms, holding her out in front of her. ‘What have we learned this evening? That it can be – it should be –
all
about the person. You can make it the right time, if you really want to. If it’s the
right
person, there’s nothing that’s insurmountable. Love is all about the two people that share it. Everything else… it’s just context. It’s just background noise.’

Harriet gave her a weak smile. ‘You’re a great friend, Nic.’ It was the highest compliment she could think of. ‘Love you.’

‘Ah, Harry.’ Nicky enveloped her in a bear hug. ‘I love you too. But promise me you’ll think about what I just said.’ The two girls disentangled themselves.

‘I will,’ Harriet promised. ‘Now, please get back to your marital bed.’ Nicky laughed.

‘Okay. I’ll see you soon though, yeah?’

‘You bet,’ Harriet said, firmly. ‘Call me when you’re back from the honeymoon. I want to hear everything. Not least of all, where you guys are going to be living!’ Nicky laughed again.

‘Will do. Night.’

‘Night,’ Harriet echoed softly, as her friend slipped out into the corridor and shut the door behind her with a quiet click.

June 2005

That was the term that Sukie had taken up smoking with a vengeance. The impending weeks at home back under the sharp eye of her mother was soon to curtail her short of full addiction, but for now Sukie was lighting up at every opportunity, non-smoking halls be damned.

That night she was perched on the radiator boxing so she could exhale straight out the window – in deference to the fire alarm – her badly-mixed G&T in a mug and balanced on the sill beside her. The world outside was muffled. The first years’ exams were over and all over campus freshers were sitting together like this, at loose ends – drinking, smoking, talking – whilst the second years and finalists remained secluded in the hush of revision.

Leigha had opted for a couple of bottles of pre-mixed Sex on the Beach, Sainsbury’s own brand, which she drank from the only glass that had survived the year.

‘We really need to remember to buy some glasses,’ she laughed, as she refilled it. ‘Some house-warming party it will be, our guests drinking out of bowls.’ Sukie laughed her sharp laugh and took another long drag of her cigarette, momentarily throwing an orange glow across her face, reminding Harriet of how in primary school – tiny and skinny in long, white socks – they used to cup buttercups under one another’s chins, confirming that – yes – they all liked butter.

Leigha lazily rubbed her fingertips on the wall she was leaning against, collecting small little curls of Blu-tac. Harriet had done her best to get it all off, but still you could see patches where the photos had been all year.

‘This year’s gone so fast,’ Harriet said suddenly. Leigha looked across the bed at her, eyebrows raised as she brought her glass to her lips to communicate agreement; Sukie reached her arm outside the window to grind her cigarette out on the brick of the building.

‘Way fast,’ she agreed, jumping back down into the room and manoeuvring herself onto the single bed as well, facing the other two, crossing her legs so that a knee rested on the shin of each friend. She placed her mug of gin atop a nearby cardboard box packed up with text books, a handy table.

They would be moving into their new home over the next week, in dribs and drabs, walking suitcases down the student village streets in convoy, coordinating a taxi for their heavier stuff. Tomorrow they would get together with Leigha’s friend Nicky, their new housemate, and celebrate endings and beginnings, but tonight they had wanted it to be just the three of them, in this room, one last time.

Harriet tried to take a mental snapshot; the tobacco-spice of Sukie’s breath as she spoke, the fruit and sugar on Leigha’s as she replied, the warmth of the early summer evening outside and the body heat and alcohol fug pressing close in the small room. As if she could sense the run of her thoughts, Leigha chose that moment to drop her head to Harriet’s shoulder, closing her eyes and turning her face down, making a contented, drunken noise. Sukie immediately slapped out at Leigha’s foot.

‘Come on, stay with us Ley; you haven’t had that much to drink.’

Harriet rolled her head back against the wall - letting Leigha’s head fit in all the better underneath her chin.

Sukie and Leigha launched into an old routine – the usual teases, nothing sharp enough to hurt – but the sort of things that only the best of friends could get away with saying to each other.

Even though the end of an academic year wasn’t quite the same as the end of a calendar one, Harriet found herself making resolutions. She’d work even harder in her second year, do all the seminar reading, ensure her First; she’d somehow manage to jettison Seth, hopefully without breaking his heart; she’d be happy – and make sure that everybody that she loved was too.

Harriet sealed the wishing with a hearty sip from her mug of gin and grinned, at her best friends and in the face of the interposing future.

August 2012

Summer had been lying heavy on the city for months; travel by tube was a punishment. Adam decided to head off early, jump off public transport at Waterloo, and walk the rest of the way to the bar along the Thames, a ribbon to his left, the dirty silver of coins.

He thought he’d left good time, but Johnny was already there waiting when he arrived, seated at a low, square booth in a nook to the right of the bar, waving enthusiastically to catch Adam’s attention.

‘Alright, mate,’ Adam greeted him, slipping into the seat opposite. ‘You haven’t got the beers in!’ he chastised. Just as he finished speaking a waitress appeared with two honey coloured beers in sweating pint glasses on a tray. Johnny smirked as she set them down.

‘I always get the beers in, mate, you know that.’ He thanked the girl and she left.

‘So how’s tricks?’ Adam asked, helping himself to one of the beers. ‘How’s Iona?’ A small smile spread across Johnny’s face.

‘She’s fine. She got a 2.1 grade for her second year.’

‘Ah, good for her!’ The two men sat and drank in companionable silence for a moment.

‘Anyway, before you get settled,’ Johnny said, placing his glass back on the table top. ‘I have to admit an ulterior motive in getting you to come out for a drink today.’

Adam arched his eyebrow. ‘Well, you’re barking up the wrong tree if you want to borrow some money,’ he teased.

‘I saw Harriet, last month,’ Johnny said, without further preamble. ‘She came to Iona’s birthday drinks.’ Adam felt a frown creasing his forehead and straightened his expression.

‘Oh yeah?’ he said, drawing a line in the condensation on the outside of his pint glass with his fingertip. ‘She good, yeah?’

‘She’s good,’ Johnny agreed. ‘She told me that you never slept with Leigha.’

Adam shot his best friend a look. ‘You what?’

‘She said she knows for sure that it never happened. Leigha was lying.’

‘No, I mean…’ Adam struggled to grasp the words. ‘For years, you’ve thought… you thought that I had?’

Johnny shrugged. ‘Leigha Webster is quite a persuasive person.’

‘Apparently,’ Adam groaned. ‘Fuck’s sake, man.’ They took another moment to drink from their pints in silence. ‘So Harriet knows that I didn’t, now,’ he said, after a moment. ‘Good. I hope she feels bad.’

‘I do, actually,’ Harriet admitted. Adam jolted and turned; she was sitting with Iona in the booth behind them, smiling awkwardly. Adam sighed, and shot Johnny a glare.

‘I warned you mate. Ulterior motive,’ Johnny smirked, lazily stretching as he got to his feet. ‘Anyway. This place has got a great beer garden, apparently. Me and Iona are going to go check it out.’ Iona slid elegantly across the leather booth seat to stand and Johnny collected his beer. ‘Catch you kids later.’ Iona reached back to squeeze Harriet’s hand before she followed Johnny out through the far doors and into the sunshine beyond.

Harriet meekly dropped down on the side of the booth that Johnny had just vacated. ‘I’m sorry,’ she began.

‘I’m going to stop you there,’ Adam said, leaning back against the back of his seat. ‘Because I don’t know where this is going, but I have a pretty good guess. Now that the old impediment of me having shagged Leigha is out of the way you wanna pick things back up, yeah? Well, I’m sorry – I’m really sorry – but that’s not going to happen.’

‘It’s not about that all,’ Harriet said. ‘I just wanted you to know that I know, and I wanted to talk to you.’

‘Okay then.’ Adam gestured expansively. ‘Talk.’

‘Well. I wanted to say I was sorry—’

‘You’ve said it,’ Adam interrupted, mercilessly.

‘Okay.’ Harriet tilted her head, nervously fiddling with her hair, pushing it back behind her right ear; a tiny silver bird spun in the space between her earlobe and her shoulder. ‘I’d like the chance to be friends again,’ she said, plainly.

‘Friends?’ Adam echoed.

‘Yes, friends. And – okay, yes, who knows? – maybe in time, more than friends, like before.’

‘Ah, Harriet,’ Adam said, feeling uncertain, uncomfortable. ‘You know that’s not possible. There’s too much shit there, too much… anger.’

‘I’m not angry anymore,’ Harriet said, gently. ‘And as for all the old rubbish, well, that’s why I want us to be friends – just friends – so we have the chance to create new rubbish.’ She gave the ghost of a smile. Like before, like at the wedding, being in proximity to her made him irrational, made him fill up with the thought of her; wherever they were together, the universe always shrunk itself down to just that point, just that room, just her.

‘You once pressed me, laid yourself open, when I told you no,’ she continued quietly. ‘And so I’m doing it now. I’d really like… another chance… to maybe one day,’ she smiled, ‘get a second chance.’

Harriet scribbling notes to him in the margins of his notepaper during lectures; Harriet teaching him the girls’ signature dance moves in the Union; Harriet smiling softly at him across the study tables of the library, her chin cupped in her hands as she listened to him read poetry to her in a whisper; Harriet with the taste of snow on her lips.

‘After all,’ Harriet concluded, ‘when it comes to each other, what have we got left to lose?’

And Adam recognised the warm feeling in his chest; it was hope that she could be right, and it was brighter and stronger than he ever thought it would be.

‘So, we start again?’ he asked. ‘Blank slate? Is that even possible?’

‘We’re in charge of what is or isn’t possible,’ Harriet laughed. ‘So, yes, we can try for a blank slate, if you want.’

‘Okay,’ Adam said, smiling at her for the first time that afternoon. ‘I guess we could always try. So. Hi there.’ His smile became a grin. ‘I’m Adam.’

‘I’m Harriet.’ Harriet stretched out across the table and cupped his hands in hers. ‘It’s really good to meet you.’