Love Lies

Briefly, I wonder how much detail I should give to Ben over the phone. I’m aware that Adam is sleeping right

‘Really? That’s it? Just the tickets?’ asks Ben eventually. He sounds disappointed, almost as disappointed as I was. Not one to stay downcast for long, he quickly jumps to the assumption that Adam will have arranged a compensatory treat for today. ‘I see, so you’re planning to do something special today and that’s why you need another day off?’ he asks encouragingly.

‘Yes,’ I say cautiously. I am planning on doing something special but not with Adam. I feel bad that Ben is under a different impression but I’ll explain everything when I see him. ‘I have tickets for tonight’s gig too. We can meet there. I’ll get Jess to bring over one of the tickets for you. Freebies,’ I say by way of persuasion.

‘Oh well, in that case, I can hardly refuse, can I? It would be too ungracious. Take good care of your hangover, try fizzy elderflower and greasy chips. I’ll see you tonight and you can tell me all about your gorgeous gifts.’

‘Thank you, you’re a superstar.’

I don’t bother to tell Ben that, surprisingly, I am not hungover – despite the enormous amounts Jess and I drank last night. In fact I feel wonderful.

You see, the first thing that hit me this morning when I woke up from my Scott Taylor dream-filled sleep was not the disappointment of Adam failing to propose but the excitement that Scott Taylor singled me out and sang to me! Me! That’s monumental.

I jump out of bed, drag on a tracksuit and dash to the corner 7–11 store. We need milk and I need papers. When

‘Morning,’ I smile breezily.

He grunts but doesn’t go as far as returning my greeting. Really, he’s going to have to try harder than that to ruin my day. Not only did I spend yesterday playing cards with Scott Taylor but the truth is Scott Taylor sang to me! Have I mentioned that? It’s impossible to be anything other than thrilled with life. As Adam puts the kettle on to make mugs of tea, I start to read the tabloids. Scott’s comeback gig is emblazoned all over the front pages. The reviews are great, which is excellent news. Britain’s pop prince has a tempestuous relationship with the tabloids. Sometimes he’s golden boy and other times he’s public enemy number one. I imagine he’ll love this coverage. He’s described as ‘dizzyingly vibrant’, ‘class entertainer’, ‘the show of his life’. I work my way through the Mirror, the Daily Mail, the Express and then the Sun. They are uniform in their praise.

‘Look at this,’ I squeal. ‘The Mirror has mentioned Scott singing to me.’

‘Fucking great,’ says Adam. He’s drinking from a carton of milk which he slams down with unnecessary violence; some splashes on the floor. I’m pretty certain it will stay there until it changes to cheese. ‘Not only do ninety thousand people witness Scottie Taylor hitting on my girl but now a further several million get to read about it.’

I start to read from the newspaper. ‘It says he sang to an “elegant, mystery girl and everyone wants to know who is this lovely ”.’ I don’t think Adam hears me because he reaches for his jacket and then charges out of the kitchen and the flat (this takes about four steps). The door slams behind him so I go to Jess’s room. I think it’s more reasonable to assume she’ll be pleased for me.

17. Fern

Jess has a hangover and she doesn’t appreciate my jumping up and down on her bed and pointing out that I’m not suffering from one because Scott Taylor sang to me! I think she may be a bit jealous. She’s used to being the one that exciting things happen to. She’s normally the one bursting into my room on a Saturday morning with a whirling head and excited chatter about new flirtations. For years I’ve watched her being wined and dined by a dazzling array of blokes, and although she swears she’d swap all the variety for a bit of consistency that’s just because she doesn’t know how disappointing consistency can be. Consistency that leads to wedding bells and babies has its advantages, I don’t doubt. But consistency which amounts to little more than an encyclopedic knowledge of Saturday TV schedules and the menus of all the local takeaway services is not something to covet.

‘What did Adam say about Scottie’s impromptu singsong?’ she asks.

‘Well, he was huffy about it, mostly because it screwed up his light sequence, I think.’ Her question stops me jumping up and down. It’s hard to think about Adam without feeling… what? Sad? Bad? Mad?

‘He must feel a bit threatened. No man would like Scottie Taylor making a move on his girlfriend.’

‘He’s not threatened. Adam just doesn’t like me

‘That’s not true,’ says Jess gently.

‘It seems that way.’ I sit on the side of her bed. Still and serious now, I struggle to be clearer. ‘Or rather, I’m beginning to think that Adam is just indifferent to whether I have fun or not, whether I am happy or not. After all, he didn’t acknowledge my request for more commitment.’

‘You mean your scary, demanding ultimatum,’ she clarifies with a wry grin.

‘Is the thought of marrying me so scary?’ I ask with a sigh. ‘You know, I’m getting the feeling that Adam has one foot out of the door. We’re not going anywhere. If we were, he’d have proposed. Why didn’t he propose?’ Jess doesn’t reply, she doesn’t know how to. She just looks uncomfortable.

‘Will you carry out your threat? Will you break up?’ she asks.

Now I don’t know how to answer her question. We fall silent. I get a feeling similar to that of being at a wake. I think we might be burying my relationship with Adam. I use the pause to think about what Jess first said.

‘So, do you think Scott was making a move?’ I try to keep the hope in my voice subdued to a reasonable level.

‘Well, yes, he probably does fancy you but that’s not important, is it?’

‘No,’ I lie. Actually, hearing that Scott might fancy me seems magnificently important, especially right now when I feel Adam has passed up the chance to be with me. A boyfriend of four years not wanting to get married is a weighty blow to a girl’s confidence and Scott Taylor taking an interest is a mighty lift.

‘I mean, it’s not like he’s going to actively pursue you, is it?’ continues Jess. ‘He’ll have moved on today, probably slept with someone else last night.’

‘Probably,’ I mutter. My stomach is full of swiftly solidifying cement. I don’t want to hear this.

‘It was just a bit of fun, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ I mumble reluctantly.

‘I mean, realistically, like you said yesterday, Scottie Taylor probably does this sort of thing all the time. Not so much a girl in every port, more a girl in every pavement crack. He can’t take a step without some woman offering herself up. Even if you rolled out of a rug and fell naked at his feet a la Cleopatra there’s no guarantee that Scottie Taylor would even recognize you today.’ Jess catches sight of my face and stops blathering. Maybe I’m not hiding my disappointment as well as I’d like to. She reaches over and squeezes my hand and gently says, ‘I mean you wouldn’t want to be just yet another woman he had sex with.’

Oh God, it’s terrible, but part of me wants exactly that. I can’t look at Jess in case she can see my wantonness written all over my face.

‘I wouldn’t mind being asked,’ I mumble. ‘Maybe Scott could ask me to sleep with him and then, obviously, I’ll say no. That way I’ll have the undisputed joy of knowing that he wanted me but the comfort of knowing that I’m a good moral person who stood by my man. Maybe that will be enough. Maybe that’s the ultimate fantasy once you hit thirty.’

Or it might just be letting him fuck my brains out and not getting caught, I don’t know.

‘Still, this little flirtation has cheered you up after the

I nod but don’t trust myself to say anything. I’m in turmoil. My confidence and ego have been on a roller- coaster ride. One minute I’m up, the next I’m down. I don’t know how to feel or act, but I do know that when I