A Hopeless Romantic. Harriet Evans
Читать онлайн книгу.
is this or that because I can only buy it if it’s ridiculously overpriced.’
His tone was angry, almost vicious. He rubbed his hands over his eyes, like a little child.
‘Sorry,’ he said, and turned to her. ‘I’m just really tired, that’s all.’
He stared at her, almost hungrily. ‘Oh, Laura. I know we need to talk, but…can’t we just leave? Go back to yours? You know…’
‘No!’ said Laura, much more loudly than she’d meant to, and Dan jumped, as did the middle-aged American couple at the table next to them.
‘Right, then,’ Dan said, smiling at the couple, who obviously thought Dan and Laura were mad. He handed them a bar towel to mop up the beer that the husband had spilt, and gave them a charming smile. Laura did too, and found herself thinking, What a great couple we make. ‘No!’ she said again, more to herself, and the wife jumped again.
Dan stared at her and said, slightly impatiently, ‘Laura, what’s going on with you? You’re behaving like a schoolgirl who’s afraid she’ll be caught for bunking off or something, darling. What’s up?’
Laura took a deep breath. ‘What’s going on?’ she said, holding her nerve. ‘With us. I want…er…I want some answers.’
‘Well,’ Dan said. He ran his hands through his hair again. ‘Darling, I’ve told you. Well…god, you know how I feel about you…’
‘It’s not enough,’ Laura said gently. ‘It’s not enough any more. Dan, we’re going on holiday in two weeks’ time, for god’s sake! And you’re supposed to be leaving Amy before that. You – you know how I feel about you. This has been going on for – how long is it now, seven months? – and we’re nowhere nearer being together than we were at the beginning of it. It’s not enough. We have to sort out – sort it out. I’m – I’m in love with you. It’s killing me, this is. We have to sort it out. Otherwise…’
Laura trailed off. She didn’t know what the otherwise was, or at least it was too terrifying for her to come out with. She looked around the room slowly, and let her eyes come back to Dan, to see how he was taking this, but her nerve failed her.
‘Otherwise…’ she said softly, and lowered her head again.
Dan held her head in his hands, lifted it up and looked at her. He looked serious, more serious than she’d ever seen him.
‘Laura…’ he said. ‘There’s something I have to tell you. I didn’t want to, but you’re going to know sooner or later. God…I can’t believe I’m doing this to you.’
‘Wait a minute,’ Laura said.
‘No, let me finish,’ Dan cut in. His hands were clammy against her cheeks. ‘I didn’t want to tell you tonight, I just wanted to see you, for us to have a nice evening, one last night.’
Laura’s stomach clenched and she felt sick again.
‘What?’ she said quietly. ‘Dan, what is it?’
‘Amy’s pregnant, Laura.’
Dan released his hands, and Laura could feel the sweat on the sides of her face. He was quite sweaty in general, she thought, as if watching this scene idly from another room, another life.
‘Laura, are you listening?’ Dan said sharply.
‘Yes…’ Laura cleared her throat. ‘You…’
Her eyes filled with tears, and one ran down her cheek. She gave a tiny cough, almost a gasp, and sat up straight. No, she wouldn’t cry. She would not cry.
‘Laura…I wanted to tell you, I’ve been trying to…’
‘How pregnant?’ Laura said calmly. ‘When’s it due? It’s yours, I presume?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Dan said. ‘Of course it’s mine.’ He wiped his hair off his forehead. ‘It’s…it’s due in January.’
‘Three months,’ Laura said after a moment, calmer still. ‘She’s three months’ pregnant. How long have you known?’
‘About a month. Laura, I’ve been trying to find a way of telling you. I couldn’t…’ Dan punched his fist into his thigh, quietly. ‘I – fuck. Look, it’s a mistake, she did it on purpose, I – I don’t know what to do, but I’ve got to – we’re going to make a go of it, I have to. Of course I have to.’
Amy. Of course it wasn’t a mistake, Laura thought. Amy was as likely to accidentally get pregnant as hippogriffs and unicorns were to be found wandering in Hyde Park. She had planned this down to the last letter and Dan, Dan – oh god, Dan was the sacrificial lamb, and she, Laura…she had to leave. She had to leave, or else break down completely.
Dan was wringing his hands, quite literally clutching them in an agony of inaction. He touched her arm. ‘Laura,’ he said. ‘I know you must hate me. But believe me, I hate myself more. I can’t – I’ve completely screwed this up, my whole life up, and hers. And yours, and that’s – that’s worst of all, because – oh god…’
He broke off, and buried his head in his elbow.
‘I’m going to go,’ Laura said, and again she had the sensation of watching herself from another room, from afar, and that other person was cheering her on, saying, Well done, girl, you’re doing well.
Dan grabbed her arm as she reached for her bag. ‘Listen, Laura. Listen to me, just one thing before you go. Please.’
Laura turned to face him, and looking at him nearly broke her composure, but she steeled herself.
‘Look, Laura,’ Dan said. ‘I realise…it’s over now, you and me.’
‘Well, I kind of assume so now,’ Laura said, repressing all emotion and taking refuge in heavy sarcasm. She removed his hand from her arm, shaking slightly. ‘It’s one of my rules. Practically the last one left that I haven’t broken, actually.’ She laughed bitterly, feeling the breath catch painfully in her throat as she did. ‘Don’t carry on shagging someone who tells you he’s in love with you and that he’s going to leave his girlfriend, then gets his girlfriend who he was supposed to be dumping six months ago pregnant, and makes you realise the whole fucking thing was a pack of fucking lies.’
She stood up, and pulled her bag slowly up onto her shoulder. ‘Bye, Dan,’ she said. ‘Bye.’
‘It wasn’t a pack of lies,’ Dan said, as she turned to go. ‘If you want to punish me, you’ve got your punishment. I love you. I always will. I never lied to you, Laura.’
He put his hands flat down on the table. The left one had a scar across the back, where he’d sliced it in a powerboat when he was six. Laura looked at it, and thought, I knew that. I know he got that scar in a boating accident when he was six. I don’t know anything else. Nothing at all.
She tried to think of something to say back to him, something grand, something great, something worthy of Carrie Bradshaw or Barbra Streisand in The Way We Were. But there was nothing to say, and the moment wasn’t about that any more. There was nothing for her to do but leave, and as she stood in the frame of the doorway, she half-waved at him, and turned and quietly walked down the stairs again.
Laura’s other granny, who had died ten years previously, was very much like her son George. Deidre Foster was a paragon of respectability, her home a shrine to suburban living. When the neighbours put their house on the market in 1980, the potential crisis of unruly or undesirable new people next door almost sent her into a decline. Hers was the only home in which Laura had ever seen a knitted toilet-roll holder. She had vases screwed into the walls with dried flowers in, a tasteful landscape photograph