‘Yes, but when might that be?’ I asked hopelessly.
‘Sometimes things just run their natural course. You’ve got a good life over there in New York, Mike, and Verity has one here. You were both very young when you met; it’s hardly surprising that things change. That doesn’t have to be scary, you know.’ Her tone was soft and it sounded like the sort of thing mothers told their children. But it made my head feel hot and I put the phone down on the stupid woman because certainly I would have said something unforgivable if I had stayed on the line.
I rang V next and shouted down the line into the echoey silence. I called her a few bad names. I told her she couldn’t just walk away like that. I said we needed each other. I told her again I craved her.
Later that day I received an email:
Mike,
I am changing my number, so there is no point in trying to call me again. Your behaviour has been appalling and I don’t just mean with that girl, I mean in how you told me and how you tried to blame me in some way for what happened. Making money has always been unnaturally important to you, but I went along with it because of your background and all you’ve been through and I could understand how you wanted to create a better life for yourself. But sometimes you scare me and, to be honest, I haven’t felt particularly comfortable in our relationship for some time now. You need to find your own happiness within yourself. I don’t want to be craved; it’s too much. Go back to New York. I won’t be returning to our flat until you have left the country.
Verity
I knew immediately that she didn’t mean a word of the email, but I also knew her forgiveness was going to be hard won. I had to start by doing as I was told, so I booked the next flight out to New York.
God those first few weeks were awful. Mind-blowingly, gut-wrenchingly awful. I remember them like an illness; my whole body ached, my mind was dislocated, the world felt cold and everything took longer than necessary. I made the mistake of writing V emails, daily at first. I said the same things in all of them, a list of pathetic apologies and admonitions. Lines of promises and hopes, dreams and failures. I begged and pleaded, I prostrated myself. I agreed to anything and everything. But she never replied, not once, not one single word. In the end I understood that there was nothing I could say to make it better. That actions were the only thing that counted and I had to simply show V the kind of man I was capable of being.
After my trip down to the basement at Elizabeth Road I became obsessed with the need to see V on her own, without Angus. I realised that the first time I saw her simply couldn’t be at the wedding, with him. But I knew better than to request a meeting. She had laid out the rules in her last email and I couldn’t possibly risk moving backwards. The only way I could think of orchestrating it was to ‘bump into her’. All it took was a bit of patience and, for V, I would wait till the end of time. I loitered a lot where the top of her road met Kensington High Street, reasoning that it was a perfectly reasonable place for anyone to be walking at any time.
In the end I got my reward. Two Saturdays before her wedding, V rounded the corner dressed in black Lycra leggings, trainers on her feet and her hair pulled into a sharp ponytail. My heart actually jolted at her being so close, as if she physically occupied a hole inside me. She jogged on the spot as she waited to cross the road and I knew she was going to run round Kensington Gardens.
I acted quickly, maybe too quickly, raising my arm and shouting her name from where I stood by the bus stop. She turned, looking round for what she thought she had heard, only realising it was me as I walked towards her. Her mouth formed an ‘O’ as I approached and her jogging stopped. I reached her quickly and we stood for a few seconds just looking at each other. She was wearing a black top which zipped up under her chin so I couldn’t see if she was wearing the eagle.
‘My God, Mike,’ she said finally and her voice was a little hoarse.
I leant down and kissed her cheek, inhaling her scent of musky roses, which I was pleased hadn’t changed. ‘V.’
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Oh, just a bit of shopping. How about you?’
She motioned down the street I knew so well. ‘I live here.’
I looked where she was pointing and feigned surprise. ‘Do you? How nice.’
She blushed. ‘Well, it’s Angus’s house really, but you know.’
I nodded. ‘You must be excited about the wedding.’
She flapped her hands in front of her face. ‘Well, weddings seem to be mostly about planning.’
‘I’m sure Suzi has it covered.’
She laughed. ‘So, anyway, you look well.’ She looked at my chest as she spoke, hardly hidden by the light cotton shirt I was wearing. I could feel her hands on me and I had to shake away the memory.
‘So do you.’ A statement which was never a lie, but especially not that day.
‘Just trying to run off those last few wedding-dress pounds.’ She laughed.
There was an absurdity to the conversation. What we both really wanted to do was rip each other’s clothes off and fuck right there on the side of the road. V licked her lips and her breathing was heavy. I could have reached out and taken her hand; there was nothing stopping me.
‘I’m glad you’re happy, V.’ I lingered over the letter which had always meant something to us both.
‘Thank you. Are you?’ Her gaze was deep and penetrating and I knew there was so much more she wanted to say.
‘Yes, I’m fine. Work’s going well and I’m getting my house sorted. I’ve just had some quotes to put a gym and sauna in the basement.’
‘Oh, fancy.’
‘Well, you know how I love to work out.’ I kept my eyes fixed on hers.
‘Anyway,’ she said, tearing her eyes away from me and facing back to the road. ‘It was lovely to see you, but I should get running. Angus and I have a tasting in a couple of hours. The caterer has had to change an ingredient in the starter, something to do with suppliers …’
‘Where did you meet him?’
‘What?’ She looked back at me and her eyes flickered.
‘Angus – where did you meet him?’ I hadn’t planned on asking about him, but she had brought him up and I didn’t want her to think I was intimidated by him.
‘Oh, a work thing.’
‘It’s been very quick.’
She nodded. But then she looked down. ‘Don’t, Mike. I can’t do this, it’s too hard.’
I smiled my best smile. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.’
‘No, it’s fine. It’s lovely to see you,’ she said, but her voice quivered.
‘And you.’ I turned from her as I spoke and walked off, glancing back after a few moments, to see her still waiting on the kerb for the traffic to clear.
I wonder if that’s what alcoholics feel like when they have a drink after a long time sober. As if every nerve ending has been smoothed, all your blood warmed, your mind stroked. I walked as if I was on a cloud – I’m surprised I didn’t glide, didn’t rise up into the sky and float above the hordes of people on the pavement. I thought up heroic deeds and noble sacrifices. I made speeches which made others cry, I solved tensions, stopped wars, made peace. It was like my heart was a balloon which someone had finally filled with air and the only possible expression I could hold was that of a smile.