Stand By Me. S.D. Robertson
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his every pore. Oh well. As embarrassing as his arrival had been, at least their inevitable row had been delayed until morning. Hopefully they’d both be in a better mental state to deal with it then.
She’d also managed to avoid the potential car crash of the two men meeting for the first time when Mike was drunk and angry. She pulled off his trousers and socks but, despite her best efforts, was unable to remove his shirt. The idea had been to pop it straight in the wash, in a bid to shift the huge red wine stain on the front. But it had dried now and Lisa suspected there was little chance of removing it whatever she did.
Mike stirred, muttered something incomprehensible and then farted, which Lisa took as her cue to leave, tiptoeing out of the room and pulling the door to.
In the kitchen she filled Elliot’s water from the tap and poured them both a large Baileys over ice. She took a deep breath and carried the drinks through to the lounge. Elliot was sitting on the couch, legs crossed, reading a computer magazine that belonged to her son, Ben.
‘Here I am, at last,’ she said, leaning over to place the drinks on the coffee table. ‘I hope Baileys is okay.’
Elliot put down the magazine and smiled. ‘Perfect, thanks. Everything all right?’
‘With Mike, you mean? I think so. He’s fast asleep. I’ll check on him in a bit, but I’m sure he’ll be fine. I suspect he might have a hangover in the morning. You’re probably wondering what happened.’
Elliot held up his hands. ‘Hey, everyone needs to get off their face once in a while, I reckon. Looks like he did it in style.’
‘You can say that again.’
‘Listen, if you want to talk about it, here I am. If not, no worries. I’d say we’ve got plenty of other stuff to catch up on.’
Lisa didn’t feel like going into it now. What had happened between her and Mike tonight was far too complicated to explain in a quick conversation. It was the latest in a long line of problems; not a can of worms she wanted to open at the moment. She’d already blown it in terms of making a good first impression of the life she’d built over the last two decades. So instead she turned the conversation back on Elliot.
‘Well, that’s true,’ she said. ‘Such as what finally brought you back home for the first time in all these years. Are you here on your own, actually, or—’
‘Are you trying to ask if I’ve got a girlfriend?’ Elliot said, straight-faced, before bursting into a big grin. ‘No, I don’t. And yes, I’m here alone.’
To her annoyance, Lisa could feel her cheeks flushing, but she tried to ignore it, taking a sip of her drink before replying. ‘I was actually thinking more about your mother. I thought she might also want to catch up with old friends and so on. How is Wendy? Still as gorgeous and glamorous as ever, I bet.’
Elliot grinned. ‘Mum’s good, thanks. And yes, time’s been kind to her. She probably would have liked to come, but as I say, it was all very last minute. Boring business stuff, but at least it means we get a chance to catch up after so long.’
It seemed odd to Lisa that he would have business here – or even in Manchester, as opposed to London – but Elliot didn’t seem especially keen to talk about that or his success in general. Despite several probing questions on her part, Lisa discovered very little, other than the fact that he was single with no kids and he wasn’t sure how long his trip would last. It was almost like he had something to hide, or at least that he wasn’t telling her everything. He seemed far more eager to talk about her life: how her job was going, for instance, and what Mike and the children were like. He was especially interested in Ben and Chloe, which she found surprising for someone without children of their own.
‘So Ben’s sixteen now?’ he asked.
‘Almost. His birthday’s next month. That was his magazine you were reading, actually. He’s very into computers and technology. He’ll probably be in awe of you when you meet. I’m sure he’d love to have a job like yours one day.’
‘Really? That’s cool. And what about Chloe? What age is she?’
‘Twelve. She’s just finished her first year at secondary school.’
‘So not much older than we were when we first met. That’s the two of them in the photo on the mantelpiece, right? Wow, look at those lovely light green eyes of hers. What a striking colour. She looks an awful lot like you did at that age.’
‘Don’t tell her that, El. No girl wants to look like her mother.’
‘Ben’s a lot like his dad too, isn’t he?’ He laughed. ‘It’s like you’ve both got your own mini-me.’
Lisa giggled.
‘Where do they go to school? Are they at King George’s and Queen Anne’s, like we were?’
‘You’re kidding, right? Like we could afford those fees! Did you hear that the two schools have merged now, by the way, so boys and girls are together? Queen Anne’s has recently been converted into apartments and everything’s based on the King George’s site. They’re calling it The Royal School, Westwich.’
‘Seriously? No I hadn’t heard that. Strewth. So where do your two go, then: Waterside?’
‘That’s right. It’s a very good school.’
‘Hey, I’m no private school snob. I’m sure it’s great. Plus they’re following in the footsteps of their uncle.’
‘That’s right.’
‘How is Jamie? Still local?’
‘Good. Yes, he lives in the village.’
‘Any family?’
‘Two young daughters: Hannah, who’s seven, and Emily, who’s five. He’s not with their mum any more, but they share custody.’
‘What does he do?’
‘He works in sales, for a chemical manufacturer. It keeps him out of trouble. You must see him while you’re here. He’d love that.’
‘Definitely. What about your mum? Does she still live in the old house?’
‘She’s fine. Still in Aldham; still teaching part-time. But no, she moved to a smaller place after Dad died. She’s away on a coach trip around Eastern Europe at the moment.’
Despite Elliot’s apparent reluctance to talk much about himself, Lisa really enjoyed their conversation. It flowed easily between them, as it always had when they were younger, which was great after so long apart.
And yet she still couldn’t get over how much her friend had changed. After they’d said goodnight and he’d headed back to his hotel, promising to return the next day to meet her family, Lisa found herself thinking about this as she struggled to get to sleep next to a snoring Mike.
For one thing there was the voice: the strange accent she hadn’t been able to place when she’d first answered the door. He didn’t exactly sound Australian or English, but rather a hybrid of the two, occasionally more one than the other. It amused her how he often ended sentences with a raised pitch in his voice, as if asking a question when he wasn’t, which she’d heard Australians do before. She wondered if this would change while he was here and, surrounded by his old countryfolk, whether he’d slip back into how he used to sound.
Physically, although she could now recognise her old friend from his facial features and the way he smiled, he was almost like a different person. He could easily walk past old acquaintances in the village without them realising. Part of that was the fact he’d got himself into shape and no longer wore the glasses he’d had to live in as a boy. (He’d had laser surgery, apparently, so no longer needed them.)
But it was also down to the way he held himself: so self-assured. When they were younger, he’d always been very chatty with her and other people he knew well, but he could be painfully shy around strangers. However,