Hello stranger, p.13
Hello, Stranger, page 13
I smile and take the little card out of the flowers, touched that Jamie has reached out to me when really it should be the other way around and relieved that I haven’t ruined everything between us. But when I see the name at the bottom, I’m shocked. They’re not from Jamie. They’re from Jude.
Please meet me for a quick drink after work today. Six p.m. at Curio. I really need to tell you something.
I tuck the card into my pocket, pretending to Mandy it was just a soppy note from Jamie, and then take the flowers to the stockroom, wondering what I’m going to do about meeting Jude. A huge part of me says, ‘no way’, but there’s a tiny (very stupid) part of me that wants to hear what he has to say.
The day trickles its way towards half-five and I’m relieved when we can finally shut up shop and I can go home. Except, being the idiot that I am, I don’t walk straight to my car like I should do. Maybe it’s because I still haven’t had a reply from Jamie, I don’t know, but I take a detour via Curio Lounge and, sure enough, Jude is sitting in the window seat, looking out. When he sees me carrying his bunch of flowers, a huge smile fills his face and I know I’m going to have to go in and join him, if only to tell him to leave me alone once and for all.
When I’ve got inside, I notice he’s already bought a drink for me and his presumptuousness irritates me. Trust Jude to be that cocky to buy a drink for me even though he had no idea whether I was going to turn up or not. Plus it’s exactly what I would’ve ordered at this time of day – a strawberry and lime cider (we lived on it in Sweden) – and that irritates me even more.
He must be expecting this response because when I sit down on the chair opposite him, he says, ‘I bought you a drink just in case. I hoped maybe if I bought it, it’d be a good omen and you’d arrive. And it worked.’
‘I’m only coming to tell you that I’m not interested and to give you these back.’ I try to hand him the bunch of flowers but he moves his hand away.
‘They’re for you. I don’t want them.’
I put them on the floor under the table. ‘Look, what have you got to say that’s so pressing anyway, Jude?’
‘First, I’m truly sorry. The way I ended it was really shit. To not turn up to the apartment … well, it was unforgivable.’
‘You’re right. It was.’
We’d made plans to go for a second viewing of this apartment we were interested in. It was amazing. Top floor. Modern. Spacious. Jude had inherited a fairly large sum of money from his grandma so we could put a big deposit down to make the monthly payments manageable on our sporadic wages. We planned to rent it out whenever we went travelling so that we could use the money to pay the mortgage each month. I was so excited about seeing the apartment again and, while I was at work, I’d texted Jude a couple of times to remind him we were meeting there at six. He hadn’t replied, but he was a bit hit and miss with his phone so I wasn’t overly concerned, but then when I arrived to meet the estate agent and he wasn’t there, I started to feel nervous. I was late (as usual), the estate agent standing outside the apartment block looking around. I went up to him, hoping maybe Jude had gone inside already, but he informed me that Jude hadn’t turned up yet. I checked my phone again to see if I had any messages to explain why he was late, but there was nothing. We waited for about fifteen minutes and then I decided to go up and look on my own, pretending to the estate agent that I’d received a text from Jude to say he’d been caught up at work.
I still remember how I felt walking around the apartment – the desperate sinking feeling in my stomach. The life that I’d pictured disappearing before my eyes. I kept trying to tell myself Jude would have a reasonable excuse for his no-show, but I knew that he’d got cold feet. On reflection, I can see he’d been a bit off for weeks, ever since our conversations about the apartment had become more serious and considered, looking at figures and deliberating over what furniture to buy. He’d been fine when it was just a romantic vision, but the reality had made him twitchy.
He didn’t call me until about eight that night and I knew as soon as I heard his voice that my fears were well founded and that he was about to call things off. He pinned it all on me, of course. Said he’d thought I was more of a free spirit, that he worried we were too different, that my wanting to live with him felt too intense and stifling for him. I begged and pleaded, said we could forget the whole ‘moving in’ thing and just stay as we were, but he wasn’t having any of it. I cried for weeks, found it hard to go out for months, but slowly, very slowly, I started to heal. Which makes me wonder what the hell I’m doing back here.
‘I’ll never hurt you again, I promise. I’ll make sure you have the best, most exciting life you can ever imagine. We can even move in together if that’ll make you happy.’
The way he makes it sound like he’d be doing me a favour makes me long to see Jamie.
‘You splitting up with me was the best thing that ever could’ve happened. So please just leave me alone.’
‘You don’t really mean that. You’re not thinking straight.’
One of Jude’s regular tactics – to label me as a psycho, neurotic, unhinged; to make me question myself until I’m no longer sure if I’m right. You’re being too emotional, controlling, possessive. You don’t respect my need to be free.
‘No, you’re wrong, Jude. This is me thinking straight.’
‘All right, all right, don’t get arsey. I remember that temper well. Remember how I used to shag it out of you.’
He wiggles his eyebrows and it sends me flying back. Yes, the sex was amazing, but he never made me feel valued, always made me feel like I wasn’t really good enough for him. Whereas Jamie …
I bite my lip to stop myself from crying.
‘Please don’t call me again. I mean it, Jude.’ I leave the flowers under the table, ignore Jude’s protests and walk out. And as soon as I reach my car, that’s when the tears do come, big fat sobs that make my whole body convulse as I rest my head on the steering wheel. And just as I’m about to start the car, I get a reply from Jamie.
I’m sorry if I came on too strong with the whole moving in thing. Can we just go back to how we were? x
I drive straight to Amy’s house, practically running up the path and banging on the door. When Amy opens it, she immediately senses that I’m in a state, as she draws me into a hug then ushers me in.
‘What’s going on?’
‘I’m sorry to just turn up like this. Is it OK?’
‘Of course it is. You know that. Besides, the kids are out on play dates and Dave is working late so you have my full attention. Do you want a cup of tea? Something stronger?’
‘Tea sounds perfect.’ I sit on the stool at the breakfast bar whilst Amy puts the kettle on. There’s always something reassuring about someone making you a cup of tea – I’m not sure what it is, but I immediately feel more relaxed.
‘So what’s up?’
I prop my head up on my elbow. ‘I’ve messed everything up, as usual. What the hell is wrong with me?’
‘Oh, Luce. Is it Jamie?’
‘Sort of.’ I let out a pained breath. ‘I just met Jude for a drink.’
‘What? Why? I thought he was in Outer Mongolia or somewhere.’ Amy doesn’t even try to disguise how dismayed she is with me.
‘South America. Anyway, he got home a month or so ago. He messaged me.’
Amy raises her eyebrows.
‘Before you get cross with me, I ignored it. But then I bumped into him the other night at the pub and we got chatting for a bit.’ I run my hands through my hair. ‘He was going on about how we were kindred spirits and weren’t destined for suburbia and … well, then Jamie asked me to sell up and buy a place together and I freaked out and said it was too soon.’ I shake my head. ‘I’m a total dick.’
Amy puts a cup of tea down in front of me and then sits opposite me at the breakfast bar and wraps her hands around her own mug. ‘You’re not a total dick.’
‘You’re a terrible liar.’
Amy smiles. ‘I’m not lying. But I do think you really need to take some time to consider what it is you want. Before someone gets hurt.’
‘Jamie, you mean? Before I hurt Jamie.’
Amy shrugs. ‘And yourself.’
I sigh. ‘But it’s not a simple thing, is it? I want Jamie. But I don’t want to give up the adventures. I don’t want to “settle down”. I want him to come with me, or if he can’t sometimes because of work, I want him to support my need to.’
‘So tell him that.’
‘And what about the whole family thing?’
‘If you’re adamant you don’t want one, then you need to tell him that too.’
‘But what if then he doesn’t want me? What if he leaves?’
Amy sighs, her eyes full of a painful truth. ‘What’s the alternative, Luce? Keep running so that you never have to face the possibility of him hurting you? So you hurt him first? Keep holding stuff back from him?’
I chew my bottom lip. ‘You’re right. I know you’re right. I’ll talk to him. Tell him the truth.’
‘Good girl.’ She stands up and goes over to the cupboard, pulling out a box of biscuits and bringing them over. ‘Now, this is what we really need right now.’
When I get back, I park my car on the road, struggling to find a space as usual, and then head up the path towards my front door. And just as I get there I see a bunch of flowers on the doorstep, some simple wildflowers. And they’re so much more ‘me’ than the ones Jude sent me and it’s as much as I can do to stop myself from bursting into tears again.
I bend down and pick up the card.
Sorry again. I love you, Jamie x
I message him straight away, hoping it’s not too late.
You have nothing to be sorry for. Do you still want to come to the wedding with me tomorrow? x
Of course. Pick you up at 12? x
Relief washes over me as I go inside and sort out my outfit for the wedding. I know I’m going to have to tell Jamie everything – about Jude, about why I had reservations about moving in with him, the whole not wanting a family thing – I just have to hope he’ll still want me when I do.
We arrive a little bit late to Tilda’s wedding (I left the present on the side and Jamie had to race us back for me to pick it up) but we manage to get into the church before she starts her journey down the aisle, finding a space to sit down at the end of one of the pews near the back. I don’t think we’re technically on the right side, but I’m not sure it really matters.
The church looks beautiful, the ends of the pews adorned with flowers, candles in all the alcoves, greenery wrapped around the pillars. I’m not one of those women who has pictured my wedding since childhood, but the more weddings I attend, the more I get an idea of how I would like mine to be. I wouldn’t want it too fancy, just classic and pretty. Same for my dress, although I’d like something a little bit quirky. I imagine Jamie standing at the front of the church, where Aaron is now – I’d want him to be blown away.
‘It looks amazing, doesn’t it?’ he says now, scanning the whole church. And I love that he’s the kind of guy that notices things like that and comments on it.
‘It’s beautiful.’
I rest my head on his shoulder and he puts his arm around me. And it feels so safe and relaxed. The one time Jude accompanied me to a wedding there was this awkward underlying tension. He kept making little comments about how ‘boring’ it was, and how ‘predictable’, like he was determined that I know we would never be getting married so there was no point ever bringing it up. He was purposefully unaffectionate, as if he was scared that if he showed me that he in any way cared I’d be hassling him to propose the minute we got home. But Jamie’s not like that at all.
All at once, the organ pipes up and a hush descends on the building as everyone stands and Tilda and her dad appear at the entrance to the church. She’s wearing an amazing simple slimline silk dress, a single flower in her hair. Her dad looks as proud as punch, and tears form in my eyes as I imagine my dad on my wedding day, if I’m lucky enough to have one. And then, whilst everyone else’s eyes remain glued to the bride, I look at Aaron. I always love to watch the groom at this point in the ceremony, the first moment he lays eyes on his wife-to-be in her wedding dress. Aaron doesn’t disappoint, his face breaking into a beaming smile as he lifts his hand to wipe a tear from under his eye. I’m so happy for Tilda to have found someone who so clearly adores her. Like Mandy, I was a bit sceptical at first when she said she’d been with him since she was thirteen, and getting married at twenty seems so young, but seeing the look on their faces as they turn towards each other, I’m genuinely quite envious of her – to be so sure of what she wants at her age.
Jamie holds my hand for the whole service and when it’s time to sing the hymns, he belts them out, whereas Jude used to stand beside me staring at his phone and not even joining in. When they say their vows, I look over at Jamie, who is fully focused on Aaron and Tilda and smiling warmly. And I know I’ve got a good one here, and I realize I really do have to be honest with him – to stop hiding. Because I do want this to last. If all goes well, I want it to be us standing at the front of the church making our promises to each other one day. And we can’t do that until he knows exactly who I am and all that being with me entails.
After the service, we go outside and throw confetti over the happy couple, before the crowd disperses and we all go to our cars to drive to the reception venue – a gorgeous country house hotel about three miles down the road.
‘I love weddings, don’t you?’ Jamie says, as he’s driving.
I can’t help but laugh.
‘What?’
‘Just you. Are you even real?’
‘What do you mean? Are men not supposed to like weddings then?’
‘Maybe the free booze and food, but not normally the service, no.’
Jamie shrugs. ‘I didn’t realize I was so odd. I just love seeing all the families coming together, everyone so happy. Sorry, I guess I’m a sap.’
I put my hand on Jamie’s thigh. ‘Don’t apologize. It’s lovely.’
When we arrive at the hotel, we’re greeted by a waiter who hands us both a glass of champagne, followed by a waitress carrying a tray of canapés. I don’t know what it is about weddings, but despite the fact I always make sure I eat before, I’m always starving. I grab some kind of smoked salmon thing and a mini tartlet and Jamie takes a chicken skewer.
‘I made a bad choice there,’ I say, peering at his much larger piece of food.
‘You got two things.’
‘I’m still not sure they’re as big as yours, even combined.’
‘Swap?’ Jamie holds out the skewer.
I survey my two choices and decide to stick with them. ‘No, it’s OK, but thank you. That’s true love, that is.’
‘Sharing my chicken skewer with you?’
‘Yeah. Again, not many men would be so kind.’
‘You’ve clearly not been with the right men.’
I kiss him on the cheek. ‘You’re right. I haven’t.’
We make our way through the guests, mostly faces I don’t recognize until we see Mandy and her husband, Mark. It’s always a huge relief to find someone you know at a wedding. I find weddings where you don’t know anyone drag – you end up drinking far too much and peaking by four o’clock. Jamie chats away happily to Mark whilst Mandy and I cover the usual topics of how amazing Tilda looks and how delicious the food is and how we already feel drunk with the endless supply of champagne. But it really is a lovely day; the room is awash with smiles and laughter. And it continues all through dinner, everyone getting on and enjoying themselves. I blub my way through the speeches (they’ve always been my Achilles heel) and imagine what my dad would say. I know he’ll have me in total pieces, soppy bugger that he is.
And then it’s the first dance. Tilda and Aaron have chosen ‘I’m Kissing You’ by Des’ree and it’s actually a really beautiful and poignant moment. Sometimes I find the first dance a bit cheesy, but it feels like being in Romeo and Juliet (although hopefully with a happier ending) and when the crowd is invited to join them, I take Jamie’s hand and pull him on to the dance floor, and I’m not sure why but as we dance, I feel like crying. I’m not sure if it’s happiness or fear, but I just feel overwhelmed.
‘What’s up?’ he asks, stopping for a moment.
‘Can we go somewhere and talk?’
‘Yeah, sure.’ I can see the fear in Jamie’s eyes and I want to reassure him that it’s nothing bad, but maybe that’s not true. Maybe what I have to tell him will be the worst thing ever in his eyes.
I leave the dance floor with Jamie following behind, weaving our way through the canoodling couples until we’re outside. I find a bench overlooking the vast lawn and sit down, Jamie sitting beside me, his eyes questioning.
‘What is it? Is everything OK?’
‘I don’t know. It’s just … being here, seeing them …’
‘It makes you realize you don’t want that with me?’ Jamie interjects and he looks so sad, so scared, that it just makes me love him all the more.
‘No. God, no. It makes me realize that I do.’
Jamie’s face breaks into a smile, the sense of relief clear in the way his shoulders drop, his neck and jaw looking less tense. ‘Is that what you wanted to tell me? You looked so scared, as if you were about to break my heart.’
‘I worry I might be.’
Jamie looks concerned again and I realize the rollercoaster of emotions I’m putting him through and how I just need to bite the bullet and tell the truth. ‘Just tell me what’s wrong, Lucy. This relationship’s never going to work if we’re not honest with each other.’
‘I saw Jude.’
‘Oh.’ He looks like I just punched him in the stomach then he nods slowly. ‘So that’s why you didn’t want to move in with me? It all makes sense now.’
‘No, no, well, not in the way you think.’
‘That’s reassuring.’
I wish I knew how to explain, but I know anything I say is going to hurt him. ‘I bumped into him when I was out with the girls and then he sent me flowers at work so I met up with him yesterday to tell him to leave me alone.’
