Alphabet Weekends - Elizabeth Noble [101]
‘Are you going to start singing Gloria Gaynor? Because if you are, I need some strong coffee.’
‘Don’t you dare laugh at me, Simon!’
He was buttoning his shirt, tucking it into his trousers. ‘Look, Natalie, this isn’t how I wanted things to be. I’m sorry if I’m getting it wrong. I don’t know what else to say to you. I’ve laid my soul bare here. I want you back. Nothing else really matters, does it?’
No one could have been more surprised than Natalie to find that, actually, other stuff did matter.
He shouldn’t have used the word soul. It made it too, too easy to see what was missing.
She looked right at him, and waited to see what she felt.
S for Simon
It was one of those beautifully hot May days that you expect, but rarely get, in August. It had been, in fact, a gloriously hot week, and Natalie had lain out on the grass bank outside the radio station every lunchtime. She was gratified to see that her legs had lost their bluish hue of winter months, and were, in fact, almost sunkissed. She absolutely loved this time of year, when people poured out of their offices and into the pubs and bars in town, spilling on to the pavements. Men with their ties loosened, girls in pastel and primary colours, tossing their hair in the late-afternoon sunshine. Summer was sexy, and you could practically smell the pheromones as you walked past them.
Tom was waiting for her at the Lamb. He’d been there for a while – the joys of self-employment: he’d bagged a great table, and there were three empty Becks bottles in front of him. He stood up as she approached, and kissed her briefly on the cheek, his arm brushing her shoulder. ‘I’ll get you a drink.’
When he returned, he sat in silence opposite her, watching her drink. Natalie was a little unnerved. He seemed tense. ‘So come on, then. S – I’m dying to know. Hope it’s outdoorsy. The forecast says it’s going to be like this all weekend.’
Tom smiled wryly. ‘It was going to be.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean it was going to be. I had something planned, but I’ve changed my mind.’
‘How come?’
‘I thought of something else.’
‘Are you planning to tell me?’
Tom shrugged.
‘Or are we going to sit here all evening with you being weird?’
‘Simon.’
‘Sorry?’
‘S for Simon. Pretty bloody obvious if you think about it, isn’t it? Simple.’ He laughed again, but without humour. ‘Simple Simon.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Stop, Nat. Please don’t tell me a lie. I can’t take you lying to me.’
‘I wasn’t.’
‘You might have done.’
‘Tom…’
‘I know you slept with him, Natalie.’
Natalie coloured. Her face felt hot, and it wasn’t the sunshine. ‘How?’
‘What has “how” got to do with it? I know.’ He hadn’t but he did now.
‘Tom, I…’
‘Listen, Nat, you don’t owe me an explanation. Let’s face it, this was only ever a game, wasn’t it, this stupid alphabet thing? Served its purpose. Kept you busy for a few months while Simon sorted himself out. That’s fine. But let’s stop, shall we? I don’t think either of us wants to play any more.’
‘Do I get to speak?’
Tom pursed his lips and pushed back his chair. He couldn’t look at her. He stood up. ‘Just don’t ask me to be happy for you. Not yet. Okay?’ He raised his eyes to hers just once. ‘Sorry.’ And then he walked away.
Natalie wanted to go after him, but shame or fear rooted her to the spot and she had to stare hard at her hands to stop crying. When she raised her head again, he had disappeared from view.
She’d told Simon to go. She’d told him that she didn’t love him any more. And he had gone. Sullenly and sulkily. That was what she would have told Tom, if he’d waited.
She was surprised to discover that Tom’s walking out on her was more affecting than Simon’s had been.
Lucy and Patrick
Lucy lay on the sun-lounger, her head on one side, squinting to watch Ed in the swimming-pool. He was wearing factor fifty and one of those lurid