‘What!?’ I regained my balance, and let go of Finn’s hands. ‘Addison, what’s the matter?’
He didn’t look up. Finn crouched down beside him.
‘Ehm, hello there … are you all right?’ he asked, rather lamely.
I crouched down.
‘Add? Addy?’ I touched him lightly. With the desperation of a child, he grabbed me round the shoulders and clung to me as if his life depended on it. I glanced at Finn and grimaced.
‘Would you mind making some tea?’
He nodded, and it was as if, on some level, we both knew that regardless of what was going on with Addison, making tea was not the same as having coffee.
I heard him clattering about unsteadily in the kitchen.
‘What’s the matter, Add? Speak to me.’
I took his chin in my hand. A sudden dash of fear ran through me like icy water.
‘It’s not Kate, is it? Kate came back, didn’t she?’
He nodded miserably.
‘She’s asleep,’ he sniffed.
‘You mean she came in and didn’t see you on the landing?’
‘I pretended it was my contact lenses.’
Addison’s glasses were as thick as beer bottles, and sitting on the telephone table.
‘Wow. She must have been tired.’
‘I’m tired,’ said Addison quietly.
‘Come on.’ I hoisted him up. ‘Come and sit in the kitchen and we can sort this out.’
I half hauled him into the kitchen and dumped his long frame into a chair.
Finn was still shuffling around the cupboards.
‘Ehm … which tea should I use?’
I looked over my shoulder.
‘The own-brand, obviously. The Earl Grey is Kate’s, and she’d kill us.’
He nodded. ‘And who is it lives off Penguin biscuits?’
‘Ehmm … a penguin. Watch out if you want to use the bathtub.’ I turned back to Addison.
‘Oh, right.’
I picked up Addison’s hand, waiting for the last few tear drops to squeeze their way down his cheeks and for him to become composed enough to talk to us without snortling. Finally Finn put down the mugs of tea, and a plate of biscuits that everyone ignored.
‘Do you mind me being here?’ he said.
Fatally, I looked to Addison for the answer to that question. What I should have done was say, ‘No, I don’t mind – Addison, do you?’ But I didn’t. I didn’t make any sign that Finn and I were in any way connected.
Addison lifted his head a fraction.
‘I don’t mind.’
‘OK,’ I said, grasping his hand more firmly. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Well,’ he sniffed, ‘the phone kept ringing and ringing and ringing …’
‘You never answer the phone.’
‘I know. But it wouldn’t stop ringing.’
‘It’s not Claudia, is it?’ I said, wondering before I could stop myself whether she’d met someone else.
‘Oh no – Claudia! I haven’t spoken to her all night. She’ll be wondering where I am.’
‘Well, let her wonder for just a little bit longer, tiger. Who was the phone call from?’
‘My mum.’
‘Your mum? She usually phones on a Sunday, doesn’t she?’
He nodded.
‘Well …’
‘She phoned to wish me a happy birthday.’
‘Oh, when’s your birthday?’
His face crumpled.
‘Today. And I forgot!!!’
He burst into noisy sobs again. Finn and I looked at each other, concerned.
I put my arm round his shoulder.
‘You know, Add, that might be a little bit flakey, but I wouldn’t get too upset about it.’
‘You don’t understand. The date of my birthday and the date of the fire … I get them mixed up, and I always remember the wrong one.’
It was the seventh of June.
‘What was the date of the fire?’ I asked quietly.
‘The seventh of July.’
‘How old were you?’
‘Eleven years and – sniff – one month.’
‘Ohh, Addison.’
He felt chilled and damp through from crying.
‘Drink some tea.’
‘When I know it’s coming, it’s not so bad … but this year I forgot.’
I wondered how he could forget his own birthday. As soon as November dawned, I was jumping about like a bumblebee in anticipation. Well, it used to be anticipation. These days, it was more like dread.
‘I forget mine all the time,’ said Finn. ‘I’ll be up to my eyes in the lab and someone will shout out the date and I’ll remember.’
Addison nodded.
‘I usually schedule some really difficult coding … just to take my mind off things.’
‘I’m sorry, mate,’ said Finn.
‘I miss him, Holly,’ said Addison.
I thought for a moment he meant Finn, then cottoned on.
‘Your dad?’
‘He bought me my first ZX81.’
‘Err … did he? That was nice.’
‘And he taught me C+. Rudimentary, obviously.’
‘Obviously,’ said Finn.
‘OK, scientist boys …’ I thought for a moment. ‘You know, Add, I think maybe this year we need to celebrate your birthday.’
He looked up. ‘I don’t …’
‘I know. But I think maybe you should. In fact, I think you have to. I think, maybe, it’s been too long since you had a birthday party.’
Finn nodded in agreement.
‘But …’
‘We’ll make it on another date. We’ll crown you a new birthday.’
He sat, silent and worried.
‘Don’t worry, it will just be us in the flat.’
‘Will you be there?’ Addison asked Finn.
Finn looked at me. ‘Yes, of course he will,’ I said.
Addison appeared unconvinced.
‘Now, come on. We’ll talk about it more in the morning. Let’s put you to bed. You don’t sleep enough; you must be exhausted.’
There was a sense of tired relief on his face, as if just being able to tell someone had helped; was all he wanted. Addison let me lead him off to bed as dopily as a child. Finn looked up with a hopeful expression on his face just as I left the room.
‘I’m going to … sit with him while he goes to sleep … just to make sure, OK?’
He seemed briefly disappointed, but quickly covered it up.
‘Right, well, I’d better be … you know, it’s pretty late.’
‘It is,’ I said.
‘OK. I’ll just … see you soon? You know, date two?’
‘Yes – ehm, I’ll ring you about Addison’s birthday,’ I said. ‘Thank you for a lovely evening.’
‘Thank you. Ehm …’ He was standing by the door, with his satchel in his hand, and he appeared to be about to say something, but then changed his mind, and didn’t. ‘… Bye.’
‘Bye,’ I said, and watched him turn round and walk down the steps. He didn’t look back at me.
I tucked Addison in and he lay staring up at me while I gently stroked his high forehead.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Sometimes, I think I’m going mad.’
‘If you think you’re going mad, that means you aren’t,’ I said. ‘I think. Unless it’s the other way round, in which case we’re all in trouble.’
‘You know, they just found an ammonia ocean on one of Saturn’s moons,’ he said. ‘It’s deep down, buried under a hundred light years of gas. You could never see it with your eye, or touch it, or even get close to it, and it doesn’t make a noise. But they still found it.’
‘And?’
‘I don’t think you can hide,’ he said, indistinctly as he closed his eyes, clearly wearied out from crying. ‘I think you still get found.’
‘I think you do too,’ I said softly, and watched him as his breathing slowed and became more regular. I watched his face for a long time: peaceful, but with a little white line of salt encrusted round his eye. And finally, when I got very weary too, I lay down beside him on the narrow bed, and I slept as well, my right arm flung across him, as if it would give some sort of protection.
I woke up the next morning with a start, and not the faintest idea where I was. Blinking heavily, the still sleeping Addison came into focus. Oh my God! Beside me, the fine lines of his face were outlined against the pillow, his eyelashes casting a shadow, and he had a line of stubble along his chin. He was absolutely beautiful.
‘Hey,’ I whispered, and he twisted towards me. Slowly, his huge eyes opened, registering at first shock, then a certain amount of good manners.
‘Ehm … hey!’ he said, smiling gingerly. I started to register a slight embarrassment.
‘How are you feeling?’
‘Ehm … better, thank you.’
I realized my arm was trapped under his, but didn’t want to scare him by wiggling it away, so I gave it up to gangrene. We were in the extremely awkward position of waking up in bed together for the first time, and the fact that we hadn’t done any naked stuff didn’t seem to have any effect on how deeply embarrassing it was, which seemed unfair.
‘Am I trapping your arm?’
‘No! No, it’s fine. Well, actually, yes.’
He moved and I was in that ridiculous position of lying on your side and having one arm too many getting in the way. I had an urge to slice it off, so we could lie facing each other in comfort.
‘I … slept very well,’ he said.
‘Yes, me too.’
I hoped this was some sort of an invitation, but his body wasn’t quite touching mine, and he seemed stiff. Well, his body language was stiff – I didn’t know about the rest of him.
We regarded each other for a bit, until I absolutely had to say something.
‘Add, you know … I’m absolutely desperate for the toilet.’
His face broke into a grin.
‘Me too.’
‘OK … I’ll get up … Would you like some tea?’
‘Yes please … Can I not have any sugar?’
‘Not a problem.’
I crept to the door, preparing to sidle out of it like a jewel thief. I listened for any movement, and when I didn’t hear anything, gently opened the door.
Kate was standing opposite me with the phone in her hand and, as of precisely this moment, an extremely shocked expression on her face.
‘What the fuck!??’
‘Ssh.’
‘Oh my God, I don’t believe …’
‘Shh! It’s not what you think.’
‘He obviously didn’t find his contact lens,’ she said, looking me up and down.
‘I thought you were meant to be in Antwerp.’
‘I was, you idiot. But instead I decided to have more fun by staying here and phoning the police. Where the fuck were you all?’
I shut the door behind me.
‘What? I was …’
‘In there, yes I’d gathered that. Josh isn’t back – did you know? Or were you too busy shagging to check? How the hell was I to know you hadn’t both been beaten up and left for dead? I mean, Jesus …’
‘I’m sorry, you know, it’s not the kind of situation you leave a note for.’
‘Obviously not.’
‘I don’t mean that. Oh God, where is Josh?’
She raised her eyebrows. I remembered.
‘Oh my God! Sha … Oh my God.’ I grinned with delight. ‘He must have gone home with her. Wow! You know, I can’t get my head round that at all. Josh having sex – it completely changes my world view. Is water flowing upwards?’
‘Well, you got off with Addison, so I wouldn’t be relying on any magnets.’
I couldn’t help grinning again. ‘We didn’t get off. We just slept together.’
Kate hit her hand on her forehead. ‘I’m sorry, I keep forgetting you’re modern.’
‘Fuck off. No, I mean, really slept. In each other’s arms.’ I sighed with bliss.
‘No monkeying?’
‘No monkeying, I swear. Just good friends.’
‘If you say so. God, I am so glad I have set back my entire career three years for this. Unlike some, I can’t just take a day off when it suits me.’
She stomped into the kitchen. I followed her and put the kettle on.
‘What do you mean, take a day off? It’s only – shit!’ It was after nine. Mrs Bigelow was going to have my arse for garters. I panicked, scrubbed my hands and face, pulled on a pair of jeans slightly too small for me and ran out of the house, only remembering halfway there that Addison would still be waiting for his tea. I closed my eyes again at the memory of him and nearly got run over by a white van. The driver had his windows shut, but I could lip-read the word he was using about me, and it wasn’t a pretty one.
I swang round Edmonton Street, expecting to see the shop closed up, or Mrs Bigelow inside honking with disapproval, as Chali hadn’t seemed as though she was on her way home for a cup of cocoa the night before, but everything seemed normal, and the gardenias out the front looked relatively healthy. I relaxed, and sauntered in.
‘Wooooooh!’ greeted me when I entered. ‘Late night last night, had we?’
I shrugged. ‘Might have done.’
Chali leapt off the counter where she’d been disdainfully painting her nails.
‘Well? I want details. Width? Overcoat?’
‘What on earth are you talking about?’
‘Overcoat. You know, was he circumcised?’
The penny dropped.
‘Chali, (1) you are a very dirty girl, and (2) nothing happened with Finn.’
She looked confused. ‘But you had a late night.’ Her eyes widened. ‘Who with?’
‘Well, you know my flatmate I’ve been telling you about …’
‘You pulled him!?’
‘Not exactly …’
I told her everything, but she wasn’t quite as thrilled as I had hoped.
‘So, let me get this straight: you blew off nice Finn for this completely fucked up wanker?’
‘I didn’t “blow off” Finn. Not everyone sleeps with their dates on the first night.’
‘Yes, but you were about to.’
‘No I wasn’t.’
‘You’d asked him in for coffee.’
‘And that means “shag me”, does it? Fine feminist you are.’
‘How many times in your whole life have you asked a bloke in for a coffee, had a chat and not shagged him?’
‘That’s not the point! It’s the principle!’
‘Well, you know … not many.’
‘How many?’
‘Nunce.’
‘Exactly. But you threw him over for some complete weirdo.’
‘Addison is not weird. He’s damaged.’
‘He’s off his cake!’
‘I know. But if you could see him …’
‘I don’t like handsome men. They make me feel insecure.’
‘Is that why you hang out with all those disgusting crusties?’
‘No, that’s because I’m sleeping my way to the top of the music business.’
‘Oh yes.’
‘Speaking of which …’
She looked over my shoulder and I turned round.
A grotesquely fat, short man with slicked-back hair and sunglasses had just entered the shop.
‘Hey … babyy! I was gonna bring you flowers, but I figured you already had some.’
His accent was mid-Atlantic via Birmingham. It made dogs whine and cover their ears with their paws.
‘Bo!’ Chali ran into his arms.
‘Holly, this is Bo – he’s a producer for the Shingles, and he’s lined me up with an audition!’
‘I’m very happy for you both.’
Bo put his arm round Chali and pinched her on the bum.
‘C’mon, darling – I’m taking you out to brunch.’
‘Is that all right, Holl?’ asked Chali, snuggling up to him.
‘Fine,’ I said. ‘I’ll just sit here, planning how not to go out with, you know, weirdoes.’
She stuck her tongue out at me and danced out of the shop.
I spent the day fantasizing madly. By lunchtime I’d moved us to Tuscany, with four children – no, actually, make that two children, otherwise I’d have a body like a beanbag. By two thirty, he’d developed some computer thingy and we’d become as rich as Bill Gates but without the acne. I’d even mentally rehearsed what I was going to say when I got home. I wasn’t going to rush up to him and fling my arms round him. I wasn’t going to move my stuff into his room. I wasn’t even going to pull down his trousers, strong as the urge might be. I would simply wait for Josh to cook us dinner, then invite him in. Then we would all sit together, and it would be lovely. We could hold hands. I might even let him feel me up under the table. No, nitch that – that would be disgusting. All four of us would, for once, partake in intelligent, grown-up debate without any name-calling or slanging matches. Hmm.
I knew something was wrong when I walked in the door, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Kate was in the sitting room, staring out of the window.
‘What’s going on?’
‘He’s not back,’ she said flatly. ‘Josh isn’t back. His work called and asked if we’d seen him.’
That was it. There was no smell of cooking.
‘Wow. Well, you know, he’ll come back when he’s ready, I suppose. Aren’t you happy for him?’
‘What if he never comes back? What if she keeps him in sex prison?’
‘Well, that’s still better than Sophie, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t know.’
I looked at her. ‘You’re really upset, aren’t you?’
‘I’m not upset. I’m just pissed off that he couldn’t even phone to tell us whether he’d been killed or not.’
‘You are – you should see yourself! You’re upset. You’re jealous.’
‘Of course I’m not jealous! He’s one of my oldest friends, and I just think he could have had a little consideration, that’s all.’
‘Kate is jealous! Kate is jealous!’
‘Piss off, would you? Oh, and if you’re going to start having sex in the flat, can you try and keep it down? Oh God, if you two are together now it’s going to be rut city around here. And Josh is in sex prison. What on earth is the matter with my life?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe you scare men,’ I said.
‘Thank you, that helps, that really helps. My therapist says I come over as too independent to cover up my essential neediness. Do you think that’s true?’
‘I think your therapist talks through his bottom. Can you pay me eighty quid a week? Then we’ll sit for an hour and I’ll say, “Don’t go out with married men … Don’t go out with married men … Don’t go out with married men,” and then you can completely ignore me.’
She grimaced at me.
‘Actually, I’ll be pleased when you start shagging Addison. Maybe it’ll keep you quiet for a bit.’
‘I wouldn’t be too sure about that,’ I said, and left her to it.
So much for my dinner plan. Addison’s door was tightly shut, which was a bit ominous. I stood in the hall, suddenly wracked with indecision and what last night might have meant, if anything. Maybe he’d want to forget the whole thing?
I tapped lightly on his door, and heard no reply.
My absolute first urge was to forget the whole thing. This, I suddenly realized, is what makes boys with whom you have had a positively wonderful time decide in that utterly logical boy way of theirs not to call you afterwards for no reason whatsoever.
You know what it’s like: boys you have met, had a brilliant time with, possibly even slept with – but not in a seedy way; in a fun, adult, getting-to-know-each-other way. You know how many siblings he has, how he gets on with his dad, what stupid things he did at college; you’ve spent all night exchanging information in an intense and fascinating manner. You laugh, you eat in bed, you have a bath together, it seems almost churlish to ask him if he’s going to ring you as you clearly are such soul mates – and then he doesn’t ring you! And, worse than that, it makes you feel bad about yourself.
I should/shouldn’t have gone down on him, you think (delete as appropriate). Why did I tell him I used to go out with a policeman who accidentally broke my leg? Just mentioning ‘I like dogs’ isn’t instant boy code for ‘I’m desperate for a baby’, is it? Is it? Maybe it is!
For years this amazed me. I decided that, like in The Matrix, boys were living in a completely different parallel universe and were attempting to ‘enslave’ us whilst waiting for ‘the one’, probably a short-haired girl who would astonish you with her dullness and all-round podginess when you ran into them both at a dinner party a year later, displaying their engagement rings and talking about Ikea. The great scientific minds of the age should be working on it. But of course they’re mostly blokes, aren’t they? I suspect conspiracy.
It isn’t all one-way, though – sometimes, due to alcohol, boredom or a sheer sense of pity, one has been known to take men home on a ‘mercy mission’ basis. This type you will gladly hide from forevermore, including plastic surgery and moving to minor South American countries.
Addison, naturally, wasn’t one of those. In fact, he was someone I’d been worrying about and thinking about for months. And here he was. Or, at least, here was the best opportunity I’d had so far. And I could suddenly understand why boys might think, ‘Well, she’s very nice, and I did have a brilliant time, but, you know, there’s football on the telly and we’ve just ordered in a curry and – Oh, fuck it, I think I’ll just wait around for someone a little dumpier. After all, I’ve got the whole of my thirties to get this sorted out.’
What I hadn’t factored in was that if you live with someone it’s slightly more difficult to avoid them for the rest of your life. Although, in Addison’s case, not impossible. And I also hadn’t factored in that the reason he hadn’t opened his door might be that he didn’t want to talk to me either.
Gulp.
I pushed open the door a little, my heart in my mouth. Addison wasn’t there. His computer was switched off.
Oh no! He’d gone to South America!
Stunned and upset, I stomped into the kitchen to see where Kate had put the wine. Brilliantly, Addison was sitting at the kitchen table.
‘Hey!’ I said, more excitedly than I intended. ‘You’re not in your room!’
‘No,’ he said slowly.
‘Why – did you think I was going to attack you?’
Aaargh! Why did I say that?
‘Ehm … no. I just … thought I’d be here when you came home.’
Ooh! I loved him.
‘Right – fine – ehm.’
I felt myself start to blush. He blushed in unison, until it felt like we were having a tomato competition.
‘Josh isn’t back then,’ I observed, needlessly.
‘No.’
‘Looks like no dinner in that case.’
Addison shrugged. ‘I don’t usually care much about dinner.’
‘Aren’t you hungry?’
He thought about it.
‘I suppose so.’
‘Well then.’
I marched over to the cupboards and threw them open. I didn’t seem to recognize anything inside them. What on earth was hoi sin sauce? Truffle oil?
‘Ehm … what do you want to eat?’
He shrugged his shoulders.
‘Whatever you’re having?’
‘What do you like?’ I asked, as if he could name any of the world’s major dishes and I’d whip it up for him then and there.
‘I quite like cornflakes,’ he said.
Perfect! (1) we had some, (2) I could make them, and (3) they are delicious. The man had taste.
‘Coming right up,’ I said. ‘With sugar or au naturel?’
‘What’s the house style?’
‘À la maison would be without sugar, using a luxurious amount of extremely creamy milk.’
‘Can I have that, please?’
‘Certainly, sir.’
I ceremoniously poured them out and we sat there, alternately scoffing and throwing shy glances at one another. It was bliss.
Kate stomped in in the middle of it.
We both nodded happily.
‘Have you finished all the milk?’
We nodded again.
‘Great great great great great.’
She seized the wine bottle and vanished. Addison and I grinned at each other.
‘So … ehm.’
This was definitely a tad uncomfortable. Well, after all, I’d never actually officially ‘lived with’ anyone before, if you defined ‘living with’ as ‘having the same door key as’. I’d always thought that one day I might, but those plans tended to include, you know, kissing them or something. We seemed to have gone straight from first meeting to end of year one. I mean, we might as well go out and get a Renault Espace. What if it was awful?
My old florist friend McKay has this theory. It’s formally named after her, and it’s called the McKay Button Mushroom Theory. And it goes like this: always sleep with someone as quickly as possible after you first meet them and decide they’re a bit of all right. This can be within hours, although less than one isn’t recommended.
Doing this saves you all the fuss and bother of finding out you have things in common, finding out you like them, realizing you’re in love with them, and then deciding to seal the deal by bouncing the bishop and discovering that, after all this – the moonlight walks, the giggling dinners, the lingering glances – he has a penis the size and consistency of a button mushroom! But it’s too late then! You’re already in too deep! You’ve wasted all that time!
It’s a good theory, and I had always tried to follow it as closely as possible. But it suddenly occurred to me that, actually, I had fallen hook, line and sinker for Addison before I’d so much as cocked a snook at his body, so to speak.
‘Would you like to go for a walk?’
I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts I didn’t hear him.
‘Huh?’
‘It’s just that it’s quite a nice night, so I thought when we’d finished dinner we could go for a walk.’
‘Wow.’ I pondered this. The ramifications of Addison actually suggesting to physically go outside were enormous.
‘Are you sure?’
He swallowed. ‘Why not? People go for walks all the time. Don’t they?’
‘Well, usually only when they need Rizlas, I think.’
‘Oh, right well, we don’t have to …’
‘Don’t be silly, I’d love to.’
He smiled shyly, and I felt something grabbing at my chest. I found I couldn’t eat another cornflake in his presence. I immediately came over all self-conscious and had an almost overwhelming compulsion to put some lipstick on.
‘Hang on …’ I said, getting up.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Ehm …’ I didn’t want to tell him I was going to slather myself in overpriced animal fats in an attempt to make myself more alluring. ‘Ehm, I’m going to the toilet.’
Yikes! Shit! Oh no! I might as well have added, ‘And I’m going to do the most unbelievably smelly poo whilst I’m in there, as that’s what you’ll be expecting if I’m out of the room for more than twenty-five seconds.’
I had broken my golden rule, which was never to let a man know I had standard bodily functions – ever.
Flushed, I fled the room, feeling Addy looking after me. In desperate haste I stole Kate’s Clarins lippy and got a bit of cornflake on it. When I tried to wipe it off, it looked as though I’d just cut off one of my fingers and was bleeding everywhere – Kate tended towards the thin scarlet slash in lipstick – and there was substantially less in the tube than there had been before. I swore hugely to myself and went to brush my teeth, trying not to make too much noise. I suspect there’s something a tad off-putting about hearing someone brush their teeth just before you take a romantic walk with them, don’t you? It takes away the spontaneity, and it’s a bit like saying, you know, normally I have really awful halitosis but, seeing as it’s you, I’ll make an effort just this once…
Catching sight of myself in the mirror I remembered my mother’s old maxim: ‘Always brush your teeth before you put your lipstick on.’ I swore once more for luck, ran my hands quickly through my tangled dark hair and sidled back into the kitchen, pleading that he wasn’t going to say, ‘Nice poo then?’ Of course, Addison is not as other boys. He stood up when I came in, and I just stood staring at him. I had never felt so paralysingly shy in my entire life. Well, I’d never felt particularly shy – but I did now.
‘Shall we go?’ he asked, gently. I nodded, and he swept us out of the door, gracefully depositing the two cornflakes bowls in the sink. It felt like that tiny split second where a rollercoaster stops on the top of the rails.
It was truly a beautiful evening; the sun was setting, the clouds were tinged pink, and after a momentary tussle at the gate, as neither of us knew which way to go, we headed down to the river bank near the Tate Gallery.
Two minutes later, whilst I was trying to rack my brains to remember the difference between a Pentium and a Mac – or was it a PC and a Mac? – so I’d have something to talk to Addison about, a familiar figure came lurching up the road, tie askew, hair distinctly ruffled and wearing a broad smile.
‘Josh!’ I hollered at him.
He grinned, and actually broke into a run towards us.
‘I had sex!!!’ he yelled, as he drew nearer. ‘I had sex!!’
‘And I’m sure the whole of SW1 is very happy for you!’ I said as he reached me and pounced like an over-eager puppy. ‘Well done. And, please, don’t cuddle me until you’ve had a shower.’
‘I had sex! With a girl!’
‘What was it like?’ I asked mischievously.
‘Oh, you know – brilliant!!’ He leaned over, out of breath. ‘Guess how many times we did it?’
I hadn’t wanted to know anything quite so icky, but I knew how much Josh wanted to tell me.
‘A squillion?’
‘Ha ha. No, guess again.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Seven.’
‘Fifteen,’ he said proudly.
I looked at him through new eyes.
‘Bloody hell, Josh.’
‘It hurt a bit at the end,’ he said. ‘And I nearly threw up once. But, you know, I had some ground to make up.’
I nodded sagely.
‘She must be a bit weary.’
‘Not really – ehm, the first few were pretty speedy.’
‘Josh,’ I said, ‘too much information.’
‘Right, right, yes, of course.’
He took in Addison for the first time.
‘Gosh – hello there, big fellow!’
Addison did his usual peculiar half-wince greeting and gradually Josh took in the scene around him.
‘Oh … where are you two going?’
‘It’s such a beautiful night we’re going for a walk,’ I said firmly. No point in telling him the whole story – the neighbourhood had heard enough girly screaming for one night.
‘It is wonderful, isn’t it? Everything is wonderful. I think I’ll come with you.’
‘I think you won’t,’ I said, racking my brains to think up a quick rationale.
‘I showered, I promise,’ said Josh, wounded. ‘Blood came out and everything.’
‘Yeuch! Josh, for Christ’s sake.’
‘I think I might have ruptured something,’ he went on, gloomily. ‘Worth it, though.’
‘No, that’s not what I meant. I mean, you have to go home and see Kate. She nearly had the police out for you this morning. She was worried sick when you didn’t come in.’
‘Didn’t you tell her where I was?’
‘Ehm … you know, I forgot.’
‘Oh,’ he said, clearly puzzled. ‘Well, yes, OK, I’d better be getting back then.’
‘OK! See you later.’
He looked confusedly at Addison.
‘You know, you seem a lot bigger standing up,’ he said.
‘Everyone does,’ I said. ‘Sex has addled your brain. OK, go home. But don’t tell Kate too much – she’ll go all neurotic and bitter.’
‘I’d hate to see that happen,’ said Josh. ‘OK, goodbye.’
He leaned over and kissed me full on the mouth.
‘Josh, what are you doing?’
‘I’ve decided to be a bit more assertive in my relationships. Sha thinks I ought to be.’
‘Hmm. Well, I’m sure Sha is right in many things, but just remember; there’s a thin line between assertive and date rape.’
‘Right,’ he said. ‘Good one. I’ll try and remember that.’
And he scampered off towards the house, clicking his heels once in the air in the style of Morecambe and Wise.
I glanced at Addison and grinned and he grinned back.
‘Well, things are going to be a little different round our house,’ I said.
‘It’s the summer,’ said Addison. ‘It brings out the pheromones. It makes people do strange things.’
I took his hand. ‘Is this a strange thing?’
He smiled. ‘It is for me.’
‘Bad strange or good strange?’
‘I’d have to analyse it.’
‘Maybe you could devise a computer programme to measure its effects.’
‘Maybe.’ He screwed up his eyes and stared into the middle distance.
‘Well, on a probability of 97.2 per cent, I’d say I’d have to go with my intuition that it’s good strange.’
We wandered hand in hand down to the river. The Thames, though positively filthy, was as smooth as glass and the lights of the bridges twinkled romantically in the distance. I hoisted myself inelegantly up on to the river wall and Addison plumped himself next to me with ease.
‘Talk to me,’ I said to him. ‘We’ve spent months living in the same house and you know practically everything about me and all I know about you is that you have a computer girlfriend and you like Jean-Luc Picard.’
‘Everyone likes Jean-Luc Picard,’ he said.
‘Exactly. So I can discount that piece of information as being on a par with “and you breathe in and out”. So, come on, tell me.’
He shifted and looked uncomfortable.
‘I don’t really …’
‘… like talking about yourself; no, I know that. But I’d really like to get to know you,’ I said, as sincerely as I could manage. For some reason I suddenly reminded myself of the boys who tried to get into my knickers when I was eighteen. They were sweet talkers too. But this was different! I really cared! This wasn’t just McKay BMS. I hoped. I wondered what boys called it. Fried-egg syndrome? Clyde Tunnel syndrome? Yuk. I shook myself, and a thought occurred to me.
‘How about I ask you questions?’
He glanced up at me through his thick dark lashes.
‘What do you mean?’
‘We’ll turn it into an interview. Like Parkinson. Then, if you don’t want to talk about something, you can say, “You can read all about that in my forthcoming book,” or attack me with an emu.’
‘OK.’ He nodded.
I gesticulated to some ducks on the river.
‘Good evening, ladies and gentlemen and ducks. And tonight on Parkinson, as my very special star guest, with an entire programme devoted solely to him – Addison Farthing!!!!’
The ducks failed to go wild, but I clapped uproariously and Addison gracefully raised a modest hand in acknowledgement.
‘Now, Mr Farthing, obviously we’re feeling most privileged and excited to have you on the wall …’
‘Call me Addison, please.’
‘Well, yes, of course … Addison. So, Addison, the story in all the papers at the moment and what everyone wants to know is …’
He looked worried.
‘What exactly do you do for a living? And, you know, I’m going to need that in phrases the ducks can understand.’
His face relaxed. ‘Well, people want to know if you can join computer systems together to make the most out of them. So they get me to work out what’s compatible and whether they can be combined for optimum effect.’
Half the ducks took off from the riverside.
‘Well, there’s a rude audience for you.’
‘It is a bit boring.’
‘No, no. Don’t forget you’re on the most popular show on the river.’
‘Hmm.’
‘OK.’ I hit him with a slightly harder one. ‘What were you like when you were small?’
His brow furrowed for a second, as if he couldn’t remember.
‘Don’t you want to know – like, what’s my favourite colour or something?’
‘What’s your favourite colour?’
‘OK. What were you like when you were small?’
‘Can I attack you with an emu now?’
‘No. Tell me.’
And slowly, carefully, he did. In an odd way, I hardly listened to him at all. It was mesmerizing just to hear his gruff, low voice as a gentle wind blew across his dark hair and he stared out, straight past me. I kept thinking, ‘I’m here! With Addison! We’re here! Together!’ After thinking about it for so long it was like going on a date with Brad Pitt – difficult to enjoy for itself, more for what it meant and how many people could see you while it was actually happening.
But I did hear him. His mother was Croatian, which accounted for those dark looks and high cheekbones, and his dad a lecturer. Only child, shy at school, good at science, chess club, played the piano, everything going fine … until, of course, they went on holiday to France just before he was due to start secondary school and everything went so terribly wrong. He started to stutter at this bit.
‘What started the fire?’ I asked gently, hoping against hope he wasn’t going to say, ‘Well, I set this firework off for a joke …’
‘Wiring, they thought,’ he said. ‘It was all very confused, and the French authorities didn’t really want to know … My mother’s English has never been that great, and her French is worse,’ he said, now staring hard at his toes. ‘I don’t even remember how it happened or how long it took. It was all a big mess, then finally we got home – someone dropped us off, I can’t remember who – and I went in the house and all I wanted to do was play the piano, for some reason. To play the piano like normal. Then I thought I had to stop because it was late and Dad didn’t like me playing the piano late at night, it kept him awake.’
He stopped and bit his lip hard.
‘Oh God, Addison.’ I slipped my arm through his and held it tight. My head was spinning. I mean, I had wanted him to talk to me, but I hadn’t thought he really would. I mean, what was it about me that was making him talk? I wasn’t anything special. I couldn’t quite see where I deserved these confidences. Unless, of course, he was in love with me … I was the first person he could speak to about these things – Oh my God. Oh my God!
Realizing I should perhaps be thinking less selfish thoughts when someone was pouring out something massive and deeply personal, I clutched his arm and rubbed my hand ineffectually up and down his leg.
‘It’s OK,’ I said, in my best Mother Teresa soothing voice. ‘It’s OK. It’s good to get it out.’
That sounded like he was vomiting. But he wasn’t even crying, just staring very, very hard.
‘Then I had to go to school, but they left me alone, pretty much. Then I got really into computers – the teacher let me sit in the lab during breaks …’
‘What, you mean you missed out all that good smoking and swearing practice?’
‘… then I got a degree in computer science and here I am. And I have been miserable for longer than I ever thought possible.’
‘I don’t think I’ve ever said that out loud before.’
I looked up at him. ‘It’s probably a good thing that you did.’
He smiled weakly, and he was so adorable, I fell against him and gave him a huge hug, which he reciprocated. His hand touched my hair and I thought I was going to faint. We stayed like that for a while, whilst I considered kissing him and decided that revelations hour wasn’t really the right time to start getting carnal. So eventually we drew apart.
‘Do you think the ducks approved?’ said Addison, as I pushed my hair back behind my ears.
‘Who cares about the ducks?’ I said. ‘Bloody punters.’
He gazed out over the water.
‘Thanks for telling me,’ I said. ‘I feel … honoured.’
I did.
‘Oh,’ Addison laughed, slightly embarrassed.
‘That was down to Claudia. She’s forever getting on at me to start living again; move on. Tell people, and get it out.’ He looked at me. ‘I’m very glad I did.’
What! Claudia!
If I’d had a mouthful of something I’d have spat it out.
I stared miserably at the ducks, thinking how much easier they had it than us. Then one began to peck another one really hard on the head and I remembered how much I’d miss EastEnders … but still. They had it easy. I was just confused. I mean, this was a date, wasn’t it?
Addison turned towards me, excited.
‘And you,’ he said. Ah. This was getting better.
‘But mostly her.’
Poo.
‘She told me to get out, enjoy life, get to know people. Start over again. Then, you know, I met you, and it really seemed as if things were getting better, that I could get to know people.’
‘Of course you can,’ I said, more kindly than I felt. Actually, I felt like having a big fat tantrum, but it wasn’t really that appropriate under the circumstances.
He shrugged. ‘Then last night … I’d thought I was doing OK, I really did. And all the time I was just … sitting on it.’
‘That’s OK,’ I said. ‘Good to get it out.’
‘You sound like Claudia.’ He smiled.
Great. I sound like a pig.
‘Last night was …’ he looked shy ‘… really special for me.’
‘Me too,’ I said.
‘And now …’ He stood up unsteadily. ‘Hey – I’m outside! It’s a wonderful sunset! Wonderful ducks! Everything is going to be OK!’
He waved his hands in the air.
‘OK, OK.’ I smiled. ‘You’re feeling better. That’s great.’
The sun was shooting deeply sexy pink things across the sky.
‘No!’ he said, towering above me. ‘You haven’t been locked in a room for fifteen years! It’s wonderful!’
His happiness was infectious. Sod it, I thought. She’s in America and I adore him. Sod it.
‘It is wonderful,’ I said, standing up next to him.
‘It’s brilliant!’ he said.
‘Yes, it is!’ I said, flinging my arms out too.
I stared up at him, trying to manoeuvre myself into the most kissable position. The ducks started squawking and leaping up and down.
‘Look at the ducks,’ he yelled. ‘They’re celebrating.’
He started jumping up and down.
‘We should celebrate too!’
‘We should!’ I tried a couple of experimental hops, then tilted my head up to his, and moved in for the kill.
‘Huh?’ he said, mid hop, peering down at me as I held up my face to be kissed.
‘We should celebrate,’ I said, reaching for him. ‘Kiss me.’