friends are gay.”’
‘Am I going to be one of your best friends?’ asked Stevie.
Was he flirting? He was. ‘I hope we’re going to be friends,’ I reassured him.
Friends and a whole lot more but I didn’t add that because just then a cab slowed to a standstill next to the pavement where we were stood.
‘Need a ride?’ asked the driver.
‘Yes,’ Stevie and I said in unison.
On our arrival at Stevie’s flat I discovered I was anxious beyond precedent. I continually mixed up West Hamp-stead and Highgate and barely managed to articulate that I took my coffee black, one sugar.
‘I’ve kind of forgotten how to do this,’ I confessed.
‘Do what?’ asked Stevie.
‘Whatever we’re about to do,’ I mumbled, wanting to kick myself. Had I just asked him to sleep with me? I had, hadn’t I? Or as good as.
Stevie smiled away my nervousness. ‘Well, I’m about to show you my enormous photo collection of my travels in India, Thailand and Malaysia. All you have to do is pretend to be interested. It’s easy,’ he joked. ‘But be warned, if you do a convincing job I’ll make you sit through the really old ones of me in South America too,’ he added, as he rummaged around for packets of photos in an untidy cupboard. So that’s how we passed the time until the sun came up and our eyes were stinging with lack of sleep.
I remember now that I fell asleep on the floor of his sitting room while he was trying to unearth some chocolate he was sure he had somewhere – maybe in the fridge, maybe in a cupboard, maybe in his sock drawer…
This morning is peculiar. This morning it is our easy intimacy that unsettles me. I’m almost sure we should be awkward with one another. Are we this comfortable because he doesn’t feel the electricity that I feel, can almost touch and taste? Doesn’t he fancy me? Are we just good friends? That damning, hopeless epitaph. And there is something else bothering me, something related. Have we kissed? Because if we have and he’s this calm, I’m a lousy kisser. But, on the other hand, if we haven’t, why not?
Maybe I’m out of my depth. Stevie is gorgeous – really, really special – therefore I’m not sure I want to stickaround long enough to hear him say he doesn’t think of me in the same way. It would be soul-destroying to discover that I’m a nice girl but not his type. It would be better to leave now with the beautiful memories of my sparkling night intact. I’m just about to say that I have to get dressed and leave because I have an oh-so-busy schedule when Stevie asks, ‘Have you any plans for the rest of the day?’
‘None. Well, I have to pick Eddie up but no, after that, we are totally free,’ I blurt, which I realize doesn’t help to create the impression that I am in demand, a girl with a crazily busy and very glamorous schedule.
‘Me neither,’ says Stevie. ‘Do you think Eddie would like to go to the Science Museum? I loved that sort of stuff when I was a kid.’
‘I think he’d like that very much,’ I assure, nodding and smiling. Relief floods me. Truth is, Eddie would like that nearly as much as his mum would.
15. Baby, Let’s Play House
Bella
‘Don’t ever, ever make me lie for you again,’ Amelie hisses.
‘I didn’t ask you to lie,’ I point out.
I hate it when my friends go all sanctimonious on me. Hey, like haven’t I told the odd lie for Amelie in the past? I think about this for a moment and realize that, no, I have not. But I
would
lie if I ever had to, that’s what friends are for. Blow it. This is why I’ve never told anyone my secret.
‘You put me in an impossible position. I like Philip.’
‘I love him.’
‘Of course you do. That’s why you married him while you were secretly married to someone else,’ she snaps.
‘But—’
Amelie holds up her hand to cut me off. She rummages in the drinks cupboard, pulls out a bottle of whisky and pours a generous measure into both our coffee cups, although it’s
‘Am I going to be one of your best friends?’ asked Stevie.
Was he flirting? He was. ‘I hope we’re going to be friends,’ I reassured him.
Friends and a whole lot more but I didn’t add that because just then a cab slowed to a standstill next to the pavement where we were stood.
‘Need a ride?’ asked the driver.
‘Yes,’ Stevie and I said in unison.
On our arrival at Stevie’s flat I discovered I was anxious beyond precedent. I continually mixed up West Hamp-stead and Highgate and barely managed to articulate that I took my coffee black, one sugar.
‘I’ve kind of forgotten how to do this,’ I confessed.
‘Do what?’ asked Stevie.
‘Whatever we’re about to do,’ I mumbled, wanting to kick myself. Had I just asked him to sleep with me? I had, hadn’t I? Or as good as.
Stevie smiled away my nervousness. ‘Well, I’m about to show you my enormous photo collection of my travels in India, Thailand and Malaysia. All you have to do is pretend to be interested. It’s easy,’ he joked. ‘But be warned, if you do a convincing job I’ll make you sit through the really old ones of me in South America too,’ he added, as he rummaged around for packets of photos in an untidy cupboard. So that’s how we passed the time until the sun came up and our eyes were stinging with lack of sleep.
I remember now that I fell asleep on the floor of his sitting room while he was trying to unearth some chocolate he was sure he had somewhere – maybe in the fridge, maybe in a cupboard, maybe in his sock drawer…
This morning is peculiar. This morning it is our easy intimacy that unsettles me. I’m almost sure we should be awkward with one another. Are we this comfortable because he doesn’t feel the electricity that I feel, can almost touch and taste? Doesn’t he fancy me? Are we just good friends? That damning, hopeless epitaph. And there is something else bothering me, something related. Have we kissed? Because if we have and he’s this calm, I’m a lousy kisser. But, on the other hand, if we haven’t, why not?
Maybe I’m out of my depth. Stevie is gorgeous – really, really special – therefore I’m not sure I want to stickaround long enough to hear him say he doesn’t think of me in the same way. It would be soul-destroying to discover that I’m a nice girl but not his type. It would be better to leave now with the beautiful memories of my sparkling night intact. I’m just about to say that I have to get dressed and leave because I have an oh-so-busy schedule when Stevie asks, ‘Have you any plans for the rest of the day?’
‘None. Well, I have to pick Eddie up but no, after that, we are totally free,’ I blurt, which I realize doesn’t help to create the impression that I am in demand, a girl with a crazily busy and very glamorous schedule.
‘Me neither,’ says Stevie. ‘Do you think Eddie would like to go to the Science Museum? I loved that sort of stuff when I was a kid.’
‘I think he’d like that very much,’ I assure, nodding and smiling. Relief floods me. Truth is, Eddie would like that nearly as much as his mum would.
15. Baby, Let’s Play House
Bella
‘Don’t ever, ever make me lie for you again,’ Amelie hisses.
‘I didn’t ask you to lie,’ I point out.
I hate it when my friends go all sanctimonious on me. Hey, like haven’t I told the odd lie for Amelie in the past? I think about this for a moment and realize that, no, I have not. But I
would
lie if I ever had to, that’s what friends are for. Blow it. This is why I’ve never told anyone my secret.
‘You put me in an impossible position. I like Philip.’
‘I love him.’
‘Of course you do. That’s why you married him while you were secretly married to someone else,’ she snaps.
‘But—’
Amelie holds up her hand to cut me off. She rummages in the drinks cupboard, pulls out a bottle of whisky and pours a generous measure into both our coffee cups, although it’s
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