The Harder They Fall (26 page)

The next few spreads were of Josh and his grandma celebrating Christmases and birthdays, some of the snapshots having come away from the little cardboard corners that secured them to the pages, and George was tempted to set them back in place, but it would give him away. Josh was a very cute little boy, with a flash of blonde hair and a pale, round face, his eyes so blue and bright and troublefree. His prevailing passion for sweaters was already apparent, as in most of the Christmas photos he was donning a Fairisle knit, in red or green and patterned with reindeer or snowflakes.

On to the next set: these were school photos, starting at primary school, with individual and class shots, and on the former, poor Josh had really suffered for the school photographer’s hair comb. Some of the photos, especially what George assumed was his first high school photo, made him look like the stereotypical trainspotter, and he’d forgotten that Josh used to wear glasses. He wondered why he didn’t wear them anymore, but it was another question he couldn’t ask without revealing his snooping. Now he was into the annual class photos, and started to recognise some of the faces, a few of whom they’d seen at the reunion. It was fascinating to compare the assortment of scruffy teenagers, some lanky, some not, at the midpoint in their high school years, to the best-frock, keeping up of appearances in their early middle-age. Evidently they all recalled themselves as being far more attractive and glamorous when they were young, but the reality was they looked like a bunch of unwashed renegades. George had arrived at the sixth form photos, and yet he was only halfway through the album, curious to look ahead, but prepared to wait it out.

The first two photos were of the year group for their lower and upper sixth years. He scanned across the lines of tiny likenesses, easily naming some, struggling to even remember knowing others. There were over a hundred students in their year, and they’d all stuck to their own little cliques, nowhere more evident than in these photos. He could remember as if it were yesterday the whole saga of Andy, Zak and Aitch hanging back when the upper sixth photo was taken, because they were not officially part of their year group and were made to feel like total failures when they had to restart their A Levels. Still, they were doing better for themselves now than some of the so-called successes: the swotty girl on the front row, for instance, who wasn’t at the reunion, although he’d recently seen her working on the checkout at the convenience store, her job since leaving sixth form with straight ‘A’s. There was no doubt a perfectly good explanation for her apparent lack of ambition, but she’d been too arrogant and full of her own self-importance for George to care to know.

On to the sixth form ball photos: as well as the unofficial photos they’d taken during the night, the blurriness increasing along with their blood-alcohol content, there were those taken by the official photographer, and Josh had every single one depicting the elements of their current friendship group. There were the generic ‘lads’ and ‘girls’ ones, which included between them everyone but Shaunna; then there were several more of pairs and trios in various combinations: Andy and Jess; Andy, Dan and Adele; Dan and Kris; Kris and him; Josh and Eleanor, and so on. Seeing them all now, it was easy to spot the problems they were facing then. Eleanor appeared drawn and in pain, and had probably spent most of the evening vomiting up the three course meal. Kris looked exhausted, perhaps from trying to support Shaunna and Krissi. Andy and Dan were tense and standing as far apart as they could, generally with someone else in between them. Adele was the same as ever, although her nose was bigger and her boobs were smaller.

Looking at himself, he would have believed he didn’t have a care in the world, but this was the night his infatuation started for real. From being mates, going on bike rides and hanging out together at Josh’s house, to doing what they had to do to get Ellie through her bulimia, it had been nothing more than friendship, albeit on a deeper level than most of those endured in childhood and adolescence. Any sexual attraction he felt was either suppressed, or directed at Kris, in private and far away from school. Then all of a sudden, right in the middle of the sixth form ball, whilst everyone drank and danced the night away, it hit him. He was totally and absolutely, head over heels, interminably, in love; with Josh.

And then they all went off to uni, and he had a good time. He joined the LGB society, met other guys, no requirement to keep his sexuality hidden. The longer he stayed away, the easier it became to push Josh from his mind, but he never succeeded completely, and each time they returned for the summer break, the whole thing would start up again. The worst time of all was when he came back for good. Eleanor and Jess were still studying; Dan had stayed in London; Adele was working full time. Andy had attended their local university, and stayed around just long enough to save up for his adventures, before he was off around the world. Meanwhile, Kris took all the work he could get and spent all the time in between with Shaunna and Krissi.

And then there was Josh: still at university, but not so far away really. At first he seemed quite receptive to George’s weekly phone calls, and didn’t dismiss outright his suggestion of going to visit, but he kept putting him off. Then he stopped answering the phone, or got his housemate, whom George now knew was Sean, to field the calls on his behalf, because he was ‘at the library’, or ‘in the loo’, or anywhere else but on the other end of that phone. George knew these were excuses, but there was no way he could confront Josh and demand the truth.

It would be another four years before he told anyone how he felt, and it was the worst decision he ever made. First he mentioned it ‘in passing’ to Kris, who didn’t pick up on how he had contrived to bring it up in conversation, thus didn’t pass comment at all. Next, he tried to tell Eleanor, but she was too caught up in her new romance with Kevin to think about anyone else. So he just went for broke, called Josh, arranged a movie date, and blurted it out in the popcorn queue. The real indication of how horrific the evening was from there on was that he had no recollection whatsoever of what the film was, nor what happened afterwards. However, he had no problem remembering the weeks of ignored phone calls, and the return of the lying about ‘being too busy’ whenever he tried to talk to him about it. Eventually they re-established contact, in a protracted form and always in the presence of other friends, but it was never spoken about again.

Then George’s father died and left him the ranch, and in a naïve, last-ditch attempt, he wrote Josh a letter, pleading with him to come to America, as friends, and see how things went, because in all of the time that had lapsed since he first confessed his love, Josh hadn’t said ‘no’.

These reminiscences had occurred in tandem with the documenting of the same period in photos: the holiday they all went on to a tacky tourist resort in Spain on their first summer break; the somewhat more authentic trip they took to the Lake District the following year; the twenty-first birthday parties, Eleanor’s first wedding (which was just after he told Josh how he felt and thus had permission to miss), and lastly Kris and Shaunna’s house-warming, which doubled as his leaving party. These photos revealed nothing new: George examined himself in them, impressed at what an excellent job he’d done of carrying on as if all was well, when he felt like he was dying inside. But now he’d reached an era that was unfamiliar: the years he was away in the States.

Up until this point, he’d not felt particularly guilty about looking through the album, for the photos were mementos of shared experiences, but now he was crossing a threshold, about to trespass into Josh’s personal, private recollections of the ten years he had been away. For the first time, he was aware of just how appalling it was to be doing this. If the tables were turned, he’d find it very difficult to forgive Josh for prying, and still he kept on flipping those pages. The first few photos were nothing special: a trip to France with Eleanor, with the anticipated set of shots of them both atop the Eiffel Tower and standing outside the Louvre. A full two-page spread was dedicated to an excursion to the Freud Museum, with some seemingly random shots of people on the London Underground. George examined the first two or three of these in an attempt to fathom what they were about, but it was far from obvious, and he gave up and moved on. Next up was the visit they all made during his first year in America. He was terribly homesick, and so excited to see everyone that he took them on a tour of the full extent of the ranch, boasting about how many acres there were, and the number of horses and cattle he owned. Since then, he’d come to realise that compared to some of the other ranches nearby, his father’s was about as impressive as an allotment would be to a farmer, but even so, his friends shared his early enthusiasm for the place. Or so he’d thought.

Three page turns later, George was wishing he’d left well alone, because now he was more confused than ever. At first, the photos of their visit were precisely what he would have expected: Andy and Dan clowning about in the airport; unattractive shots of Kris and Shaunna on the plane, fast asleep and with their mouths hanging open; group portraits of them all sitting together outside the house, which looked a lot worse in the photos than he remembered it being, and it had been pretty awful. He could even recall these photos being taken, with Josh setting the timer on his camera and then racing to get into position before the shutter went off. But it was all the other photos after this that were really freaking him out. George flicked backwards and forwards through the pages to check that he wasn’t seeing things. No, it wasn’t just his imagination. All of the photos were of him.

“OK,” he said, trying to control his breathing and on the brink of hyperventilating. There were still a few more pages to go, and he reluctantly turned to the next one, with a very clear idea of what he thought he’d find, and yet hoping he’d be proved wrong. It was like a technicolour diary of his visits home, sometimes appearing with other people, but mostly caught on his own, and almost always staring wistfully into space. The very last page was of Adele and Tom’s wedding, finally with a few photos that didn’t include him, because he’d only arrived later in the day, a moment marked by a sneaky shot of him leaning down to kiss Eleanor whilst glancing around the room. To see his obsession documented so graphically was beyond embarrassing. He felt as if he’d been stripped naked. He dropped the album back into the ottoman, no longer curious about the rest of its contents, replaced the cushions and bedding, and stumbled from Josh’s room along to the bathroom, absently turning on the shower and catching a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. He looked as ghastly as he felt and had the urge to escape, to get out of there as quickly as possible. He turned off the shower again, grabbed an old jacket from the back of his door, threw a few changes of clothes into his rucksack, and left.

George tried to walk slowly, his racing pulse and soaring adrenaline levels pushing him to break into a run, but he needed time. He couldn’t possibly share his discovery with anyone else, not even Kris, and wasn’t yet up to faking being his usual self. If it had been at any other time and relating to anything other than Josh, he’d have gone to see Eleanor. Without this option, he had to find a way to push it from his mind, if only for long enough to ensure that the others wouldn’t ask what was wrong. As it turned out, he didn’t have too much to worry about, as when he arrived at Kris and Shaunna’s, she was trying to persuade him that the most sensible arrangement was for George to sleep in the lounge, on the sofa, or they could get a camp bed out of the loft. They’d obviously been discussing it for some time.

“Are you OK with the sofa?” she asked, bringing George a cup of tea before he’d even taken his bag from his shoulder.

“Or he could have my bed and I’ll share with you,” Kris repeated. He hated having people stay on the sofa. It was one of those funny little irrational things and he knew it, but that’s how he felt. Casper dropped a tea towel at George’s feet and he picked it up, bewildered.

“I don’t really mind. I’m just grateful to you for letting me stay, so put me wherever suits you. I’ll even share with Shaunna, if that’s easier all round.”

“Yes!” Shaunna said. “That’s a brilliant idea!”

“Are you kidding me?” Kris scoffed. “You’re not sharing with Shaunna,” he told George.

“It was only a suggestion,” he muttered. Casper prodded him with his nose. “Maybe Casper will share his bed with me, what d’you think?” He tickled him behind the ears, and the dog turned away to have his rump scratched.

“He’d probably let you!” Shaunna remarked, then to Kris: “So your choice is he either sleeps on the sofa, or comes in with me.”

“You won’t want to,” Kris said to George. “Her feet stink.”

“Bugger off!” Shaunna took the tea towel and flicked it at Kris.

“Just be glad she didn’t suggest top and tailing,” he added and pulled in his behind just in time to dodge a second hit.

All of this row was conducted in jest, and so, unconventional as it was, George and Shaunna were going to share the double bed, with Kris in his single bed in the room next door. Now that they had told people the truth about their relationship, it was apparent that they were happier than they’d ever been, sharing their house and doing things together as best friends. George was just a tiny bit jealous, although not so much as to get in the way of being pleased for them and as the evening wore on, he felt himself relax in their presence, enjoying the chance to sit and watch TV without worrying about saying the right thing, or constantly waiting on a signal from Josh as to how he was really feeling. Kris was reading a script and Shaunna was browsing through a magazine, which she passed to George once she was done. Later, when she went up for a bath, Kris turned to him and waited until he looked up.

“I’m not going to ask how you’re feeling, because I could tell when you arrived that things are really bad.”

“I’m OK,” George said lightly.