The One That Got Away. Annabel Kantaria

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СКАЧАТЬ How lovely!’

      She leans in for one of those girlie hugs around the neck and I get a whiff of some rose-based perfume as her cheek brushes mine. The scent is nauseatingly sweet.

      ‘It’s been – what? Fifteen years?’

      I don’t grace this with a reply: it’s the fifteen-year reunion, after all, and the bar is full of banners and silver balloons proclaiming the fact. ‘So how’s life treating you?’ she continues. ‘You always were going to run the world. Did you succeed?’ Her voice is smooth, but I see a vein pulsing in her neck. She knows what happened – of course she knows.

      ‘I’m good, thanks,’ I say. ‘I’m in catering.’

      ‘You always were baking cakes,’ she laughs. ‘Lucky you to do something you enjoy.’

      ‘Yes. I’m doing fine. No complaints.’ I don’t tell her the name of my company – a name she’ll definitely recognise. Neither do I mention that it’s the largest private catering company in London; that its annual turnover could wipe out the debt of a small country. ‘And, well – congratulations to you,’ I say. ‘You’ve… done well.’ I force a little laugh to detract from the fact that we both know the only thing she did well was to marry George.

      Ness takes a swig from her wine glass and I notice two things: first, that it’s a small glass and, second, that she’s nearly halfway through it. She’s barely swallowed her mouthful when George swoops, grabs the glass out of her hand, and replaces it with a glass of sparkling water, making me think ‘alcohol problem? Interesting.’ George heads back to the bar without saying a word and Ness, unfazed, gives a little shrug.

      ‘I’m good, thanks.’ She smiles, and her pretty dimples blink at me, taking me straight back to those dark days in the sixth form. I smell medical disinfectant, see the shine of steel, feel the stiffness of a green gown against my skin. ‘It’s all good.’ She nods towards George, back at the bar, and gives a little sigh. ‘Been married fourteen years now. You know how it is.’ She pauses, glances at my left hand. ‘So, how about you? Got anyone special these days?’

      I smile. ‘Not at the moment.’

      Ness puts her hand on my arm as if she understands how desperate I must be. ‘Don’t worry,’ she says. ‘We’ll find you someone. The right one’s out there somewhere. You just haven’t found him yet.’ She pauses. ‘Maybe there’s even someone here for you tonight.’ Ness rolls her eyes around the bar taking in what she presumably sees as a cast of men with whom I at least have some shared history.

      ‘Maybe,’ I say, seeing a room full of married thirty-three-year-olds in Friday-night casualwear, ‘but I’m afraid I won’t have a chance to find out. My taxi’s waiting. Have a lovely evening.’

      I practically run out of the door.

THREE

       George

      ‘Yes!’ says the woman Stell was talking to at the bar. ‘So he’s been picked for the rugby squad and now we’re hoping he’ll make the First XV!’

      I’m standing with my back to the bar, leaning my elbows against the counter so I can scan the room for Stella while absorbing the chit-chat from this woman who clearly fancies me but is yet to realise that talking about her kids isn’t the way to get me to fuck her. My eyes roam the crowded room; I’m searching for that arse in those jeans, and the cling of cashmere on those incredible tits. Failing to see Stell, I turn my attention back to the woman at the bar.

      ‘There’s a lot to be said for playing sport at that age,’ I tell her with a smile. ‘Keeps them out of mischief. Not that I’d know!’

      Where the hell is Stell?

      ‘But you don’t have any children of your own?’ The woman pauses, drops her voice a notch and I see her eyes gleaming, keen to absorb any confidences I might want to share. ‘I hope there isn’t a…’

      ‘A problem?’ I ask smoothly. I drop my gaze then look back at her. ‘I suppose there is…’

      She leans in, all ears, and I look at the floor in an attempt to keep my face straight. She’s so close I can smell the scent of her skin; feel the warmth coming off her. It would be so easy – so easy – to lead her round to the car park out the back for a quickie. Not that I would, of course; not with Ness here. Just hypothetically. I look up and search for her hand. I take it in mine, look her in the eyes and blink, as if holding back tears. ‘I suppose there is a problem,’ I say quietly.

      ‘I’m here if you need to talk,’ she breathes, inching her face even closer to mine and squeezing my hand. Now I can smell the wine on her breath; see the little dots of mascara gathered beneath her lower lash line. I lean in even further and whisper into her ear, my lips touching her skin; teasing.

      ‘Well, it’s just that…’ I pause. ‘I’m not sure I’m doing it right.’ I step back and hold my other fist at hip height and thrust my pelvis suggestively a couple of times towards her. ‘Know what I mean?’ I give her a big wink.

      I watch her expression change as she realises she’s been had, then I burst out laughing as she turns away, embarrassed.

      ‘Oh, for God’s sake, George!’

      ‘Come here!’ I say, pulling her in for a hug. ‘Just kidding. Just a bit of banter!’ I kiss her hair, enjoying the scent of it and the soft feel of her in my arms, then I let her go, clinking my glass to hers. ‘Cheers, darling! You have a great night!’

      I saunter across the bar, slapping people on the back and shaking hands as I go, working my way over to Ness. She’s with a group of girls – women, I suppose now – she used to hang out with at school: the popular ones; the netball team; the pretty ones; the smart ones. This was her crowd. She looks good. She’s in her element; the queen of them all.

      ‘All right, sweetheart?’ I ask, giving her a showy kiss on the cheek and snaking my arm around her waist. ‘I trust these lovely ladies are keeping you entertained?’

      ‘Yeah, all good. You?’

      ‘Just going to the little boys’ room.’

      I unwind my arm and slip through the double doors that lead to the bathroom. There, in the service corridor, even though it’s muted, I can still hear the racket from the pub; the screech of voices straining to be heard over other voices; the thump of the music in the background. The floor’s slightly sticky and, under it all, there’s the smell of old coats and stale beer. I pull out my phone and message Stell.

      ‘Where are you?’

      I wait but, when she doesn’t reply, I type again. ‘I can’t see you.’

      I’m still there in the hallway, staring at the phone, when the door to the pub kicks open. Ness, her glass in her hand, is framed in the doorway, her hair backlit and slightly wild, and she looks for a second like a modern-day Medusa. Neither of us moves. Then, quickly, I slide my phone back into my trouser pocket, knowing as I do so, that there’s guilt written all over my face.

      ‘I’m just going to the loo,’ I say to her, СКАЧАТЬ