what followed shocked Brenda more than anything else. She hadn’t been expecting it to be so gentle. Pete led her up to the innocent double bedroom and made what Brenda could only describe as love to her. That’s how it felt. And then he fell asleep.
Sleepless, Brenda crawled out of the bed at around 5am, crept downstairs, was violently sick into the toilet, then sat on its lid and cried as silently as she could. She called Jonathan and got no reply. She gathered up her things, scribbled a quick note to the effect that she had a family emergency, called a taxi and left.
5
The rest of August passed exactly as Brenda expected, and was no more eventful for her than it had been prior to her trip to Edinburgh, only now she had plenty to think about. The big news was that Jonathan was nominated for the Edinburgh Comedy Award, and the bigger news that Fenella Lawrence won it. Brenda called him that night and he answered on the third ring. She pictured him holding his phone, waiting the three rings in order to not look too eager.
‘Hi.’
‘It’s me.’
A pause. He always insisted on a short pause in order to convey to Brenda that she was not necessarily the most important person in his life at any given moment and therefore not the only ‘me’. They both knew perfectly well that her name showed on his caller ID but it was a charade she allowed because it would require too much effort to challenge. She was now simply irritated by it.
‘Oh, hey.’ His voice was flat and pouty.
‘Where are you now?’
‘At the flat with Lloyd.’
‘You didn’t want to stay at the party?’
‘You’re fucking joking, aren’t you? Anyway, it’s her party now, not mine.’
Brenda thought he sounded about ten years old, but didn’t say so.
‘Anyway I’m surprised you haven’t rushed up here to congratulate her, what with you two being new best friends and all.’
She stifled a laugh.
‘Oh Jonathan, stop. We’re not new best friends. I’ve met her once.’
‘Yeah, well.’
‘Listen, you’ll get it next year.’
‘I probably won’t come next year.’
‘You said you weren’t bothered about awards.’
‘Look, Brenda, I’m tired, OK? I don’t need this interrogation. I just want to go to bed.’
Brenda genuinely felt sorry for him. But she couldn’t quite bring it into focus to the extent that she could provide any real comfort. Something was making her scratchy, as if she would like to shake her hands hard and be rid of all this.
Brenda and Jonathan spent one night together in early September and then he flew to New York. He would spend a month there and then fly on to Los Angeles. He hoped to be back for Christmas he said, but would see how things went. There was no mention of Brenda coming out to visit him and she dared not bring it up it in case he said no and she would have to stop pretending to herself that it might happen at some point and admit that they were, to all intents and purposes, over. The award was not mentioned once, although it was the only subject of the entire night, and the idea of it sat elephantine in one corner, sulking and huffing and puffing. Jonathan was edgy and restless and they did not have a good time. It felt like the end, although neither would admit it. Brenda wasn’t quite ready to say it was over and Jonathan never liked to say anything was over in case he changed his mind at a later date. So they watched a film and had OK sex and Brenda wished him luck as he left the next morning. He hugged her warmly and told her she was very special and by the time he got into the waiting taxi he was already on the phone.
So, September was here with its fresh stationery and sense of a new beginning but Brenda was bored as hell. Pete had sent her a couple of messages having found her on Facebook and Brenda had stared at them and then ignored them and then heard nothing since. She was still horrified at the care he had taken over her in bed. It made her feel nauseous, but she
Sleepless, Brenda crawled out of the bed at around 5am, crept downstairs, was violently sick into the toilet, then sat on its lid and cried as silently as she could. She called Jonathan and got no reply. She gathered up her things, scribbled a quick note to the effect that she had a family emergency, called a taxi and left.
5
The rest of August passed exactly as Brenda expected, and was no more eventful for her than it had been prior to her trip to Edinburgh, only now she had plenty to think about. The big news was that Jonathan was nominated for the Edinburgh Comedy Award, and the bigger news that Fenella Lawrence won it. Brenda called him that night and he answered on the third ring. She pictured him holding his phone, waiting the three rings in order to not look too eager.
‘Hi.’
‘It’s me.’
A pause. He always insisted on a short pause in order to convey to Brenda that she was not necessarily the most important person in his life at any given moment and therefore not the only ‘me’. They both knew perfectly well that her name showed on his caller ID but it was a charade she allowed because it would require too much effort to challenge. She was now simply irritated by it.
‘Oh, hey.’ His voice was flat and pouty.
‘Where are you now?’
‘At the flat with Lloyd.’
‘You didn’t want to stay at the party?’
‘You’re fucking joking, aren’t you? Anyway, it’s her party now, not mine.’
Brenda thought he sounded about ten years old, but didn’t say so.
‘Anyway I’m surprised you haven’t rushed up here to congratulate her, what with you two being new best friends and all.’
She stifled a laugh.
‘Oh Jonathan, stop. We’re not new best friends. I’ve met her once.’
‘Yeah, well.’
‘Listen, you’ll get it next year.’
‘I probably won’t come next year.’
‘You said you weren’t bothered about awards.’
‘Look, Brenda, I’m tired, OK? I don’t need this interrogation. I just want to go to bed.’
Brenda genuinely felt sorry for him. But she couldn’t quite bring it into focus to the extent that she could provide any real comfort. Something was making her scratchy, as if she would like to shake her hands hard and be rid of all this.
Brenda and Jonathan spent one night together in early September and then he flew to New York. He would spend a month there and then fly on to Los Angeles. He hoped to be back for Christmas he said, but would see how things went. There was no mention of Brenda coming out to visit him and she dared not bring it up it in case he said no and she would have to stop pretending to herself that it might happen at some point and admit that they were, to all intents and purposes, over. The award was not mentioned once, although it was the only subject of the entire night, and the idea of it sat elephantine in one corner, sulking and huffing and puffing. Jonathan was edgy and restless and they did not have a good time. It felt like the end, although neither would admit it. Brenda wasn’t quite ready to say it was over and Jonathan never liked to say anything was over in case he changed his mind at a later date. So they watched a film and had OK sex and Brenda wished him luck as he left the next morning. He hugged her warmly and told her she was very special and by the time he got into the waiting taxi he was already on the phone.
So, September was here with its fresh stationery and sense of a new beginning but Brenda was bored as hell. Pete had sent her a couple of messages having found her on Facebook and Brenda had stared at them and then ignored them and then heard nothing since. She was still horrified at the care he had taken over her in bed. It made her feel nauseous, but she
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