The One You Really Want

‘He’s miserable. He’s been an idiot and he knows it. Dammit, he’s making my life a misery,’ Annie declared. ‘He’s no fun any more. In fact I’ll tell you how bad it’s got. Who’s the grumpiest, stroppiest, most irritable man you’ve ever met in your life?’

That was easy. ‘Grumpy Gus,’ Carmen said promptly. Grumpy Gus, a frequent visitor to the shelter, was a foul-mouthed curmudgeon of truly heroic proportions.

‘Well, not really. His actual words were, “For fuck’s sake, you miserable bastard, get a fucking grip on yourself and cheer the fuck up.”’

Annie grew serious. ‘But it’s not funny, Carmen. Nick really is regretting what he did. He misses you terribly. That’s why I had to see you today. I thought you might want to know.’

Carmen laced her fingers tightly round her cup of coffee. Hearing from Annie out of the blue after all these weeks had come as both a shock and a relief. Terrified that Annie despised her as much as Nick did, Carmen had been deeply touched by her former workmate’s response.

‘You twit,’ Annie had chortled down the phone. Not many people could chortle, but Annie could. ‘Of course I don’t hate you!’

‘So?’ Annie had retorted in disbelief. ‘I like buying presents for my friends. Look, meet me in Luigi’s at six o’clock. And if it makes you feel any better, you can pay for the coffee and doughnuts.’

Now, ensconced with Annie in the steamy cafe a couple of streets away from the shelter, Carmen’s stomach tightened as she wondered if she did want to know how much Nick was regretting what he’d done.

Carmen’s heart began to gallop. She and Nick had been so happy together. Of course she’d missed him. And then the thing had happened with Rennie - the thing that had first begun to make itself felt on Christmas night, if she was honest - and that had remained uppermost in her mind. But she and Rennie had no future together, she knew that. And no two men could be more different than Rennie and Nick. Which had to mean something, surely?

‘You were such a great couple.’ Annie pushed up the baggy sleeve of her pink sweater. ‘Look, it’s twenty past six. Nick will be leaving work in ten minutes. How about if I give him a ring?’

‘That we’re here, you berk!’ Delving into her bag, Annie eagerly whipped out her phone. ‘That you’d like to see him again, and if he wants to drop by you could have a chat about . . . you know, stuff.’

‘You’re joking.’ Vigorously Annie shook her head. ‘He’d have killed me. Anyway, you might not have wanted to see him and then he’d have been even grumpier.’

Picturing Nick with his dear familiar face, scruffy hair and lamentable taste in clothes, Carmen realised how much she did want to see him again. He was kind, caring and the most genuinely selfless man she’d ever known. And he would never deliberately hurt her.

So this was how it felt to be stood up. Having packed Annie off home forty minutes earlier because some reconciliations were definitely better carried out without an interested audience, Carmen had ordered a fresh coffee and waited. And waited.

When Annie had spoken to him on the phone Nick had agreed to join them at Luigi’s. Clearly he’d had no intention of doing so.

It was almost seven o’clock. Nick wasn’t coming and that was that. Wondering if anyone in London had a more disastrous love life than she did - the words, what love life? sprang to mind - Carmen said her goodbyes to Luigi and his son and left the cafe.

The way things were going, Luigi’s effusive garlicky kisses and rib-crushing embrace were the nearest she was going to get to love for quite a while.

It was a warm evening. When she emerged from the stuffy tube station, Carmen took off her navy sweatshirt and tied it round her hips. From a newsagents she bought an Evening Standard and a Cornetto.

Five minutes later, rounding the corner into Fitzallen Square, the Cornetto slid from her hand and hit the pavement. Ahead of her, scarcely recognisable with his hair short but otherwise deeply familiar in his old green jumper and dilapidated jeans, stood Nick.

‘Sorry. I wanted us to talk properly. I couldn’t do it in Luigi’s, in front of bossy Annie.’ With a self-conscious gesture he reached up to rub the back of his head. Close to, Carmen saw that it was actually a pretty terrible haircut.

‘I was nervous. And I wanted to impress you.’ Ruefully Nick tugged at a stray asymmetric tuft of hair. ‘Should have gone to a proper barber, I guess.’

‘We were in the middle of a game when Annie rang. I happened to mention I’d be seeing you after work. That was when Albert asked me if I wanted to look my best and told me he used to be a hairdresser.’

‘He said he’d trained with Vidal Sassoon. Started talking about the parties him and Vidal used to go to with Twiggy and Mary Quant. They’re real people,’ Nick added defensively. ‘Even I’ve heard of them.’

‘Hey, it’s only a haircut. Hair grows back. Or you could shave it all off.’ Carmen realised she was babbling out of sheer nerves. This was ridiculous, why were they standing here talking about hair? Taking a deep breath she gestured towards number sixty-two and said, ‘That’s where I live. Are you coming in?’

‘I rang the doorbell ten minutes ago. Your brother-in-law answered the door.’ The expression on Nick’s face indicated that he hadn’t received the warmest of welcomes. ‘Could we talk out here instead?’

Feeling nervous, Carmen led the way across the road and into the garden square. When they’d reached the wooden seat and sat down she said, ‘Talk about what?’

‘Me being the world’s biggest idiot.’ Nick heaved a sigh, twisting an elastic band round his wrist and avoiding Carmen’s gaze. ‘Me realising that I should never have said those things to you. Me having to listen to Annie going on and on about how unfair I’d been, and knowing she was right.’ Bowing his head he went on awkwardly, ‘Me missing you more than I’d imagined possible.’

‘I wish you weren’t, but I suppose I can tolerate it.’ He gave Carmen’s fingers a squeeze. ‘As long as it stays your money. If we’re going to give things another go, you have to get your lawyer to draw up some kind of document for me to sign, stating that I never want a penny of it.’

‘But I want to sign something anyway. Nobody’s ever going to accuse me of being a gold-digger.’ Nick was pale but determined. ‘So d’you think we have a chance?’ he said tentatively. ‘Can we start again?’

How many times had she dreamed of him saying this? And now it was actually happening. Throwing her arms round him, Carmen whispered, ‘Oh Nick . . .’

Rennie felt as though he’d been knifed in the stomach. Watching from his bedroom window, he experienced a surge of pain so acute it was almost physical, combined with more boiling jealousy than he’d known he possessed. That was it then. He had lost. And Nick had won, not because he had the looks and the money, but because he was a genuinely decent, easy-going, thoroughly nice bloke.

Feeling sick, Rennie’s fingers gripped the window ledge. Over in the square Nick and Carmen were still clutching each other, talking together, no doubt planning their shared future. He watched Nick in his manky green sweater stroking Carmen’s arm as she spoke, then drawing her against him once more. Unable to bear it a moment longer, Rennie swore and abruptly turned away. This was his punishment for having lived the life he had. Worst of all, he knew that for Carmen’s sake he would have to pretend to be pleased for her when she waltzed into the house with Nick and announced that the two of them were back together.

Well, maybe he could manage that for a couple of minutes but there was no way he was going to be cracking open the champagne and sitting around toasting their future happiness.

His jaw tightening, Rennie decided he’d go out. Congratulate them, then apologise and say he had to be somewhere. Then he’d shoot off and leave them to it.