She watches Jack lean in to look at something on Oscar’s mobile. ‘I’m starting to worry about him, Lu. He hasn’t seemed himself lately.’
My stomach turns over with dread. ‘In what way?’
Sarah folds her arm across her slender, leather-clad midriff and stands closer to me so we can’t be overheard. ‘I can’t put my finger on it. He’s … distant?’ It comes out as a question, as if she’s asking herself rather than telling me, and she lifts one shoulder, biting her bottom lip. ‘Or maybe it’s me. I don’t know, Lu, I’ve asked him if he’s happy and he just brushes me off as if I’m going crazy or something.’ She half laughs, sounding anything but amused. ‘Just busy, I guess.’
I nod, wishing I had something useful to say. I’m massively unsettled by the idea of trouble in their paradise. In the early days of their relationship I selfishly hoped their romance would be short-lived, but over time their love has become an integral part of the map of my life; a bloody massive island I’ve had to reroute my own path round, yet rely on to locate myself all the same.
‘Did you show Sarah these, Laurie?’ Oscar says, turning to us with his mobile in his hand. He tilts the screen our way as he steps closer and scrolls through images of our perfect ramshackle beach shack, the endless blue ocean and the pink-and-purple-streaked Thai dawn that I know so well.
‘Some of them,’ I say quietly, and Oscar’s eyes are tender when I look up at him. Can he see that I wish with all of my being that we were back there right now, sitting on the steps of the beach shack, burying our toes in the cool sand? They are my favourite memories, those shoulder-to-shoulder hours, those hushed conversations and languorous kisses. It’s unexpected, this stab of longing through the ribs, more so because I’m with Sarah and Jack, who I’ve never wanted to run from before.
I’m surprised by the heat of my anger towards Jack. I want to yank him out of the bar by the sleeve of his cool leather jacket and tell him: Be happy, you stupid, stupid man. And let me be too.
‘God, it looks so amazing,’ Sarah sighs. ‘I’d love to go there.’
Jack drains his cocktail without disguising a mild shudder. ‘I’ll get the beers in.’
Sarah looks as if she’s going to say something, then smiles tightly, catching Jack’s hand as she offers to help him. We watch them pick their way across the busy bar and Oscar slips his arm round my waist, his still half-full glass in his other hand.
‘Okay?’ I ask, hoping he and Jack have hit it off.
He nods. ‘Sarah’s just how I thought she’d be.’
From this, I deduce that I’ve given him the impression that Jack is kind and easy-going, and that so far he’s coming across as guarded and uptight.
‘Did I get it wrong?’ Oscar’s dark eyes cloud with consternation as he studies his drink. ‘We could have met them somewhere else, you only had to say.’
I’m suddenly furious with Jack for being so unfriendly. What the hell is he trying to prove here, with his offensive T-shirt and lightly veiled disdain at the exclusivity of the bar and Oscar’s cocktail choice? That he wins at being cool, even if Oscar is wealthier?
I put my empty glass down and slide my arms round him, relieved when the troubled look in his eyes clears. ‘You got it exactly right, Oscar. This is you,’ I skim my eyes around the bar, ‘and you’re lovely, and I want them to know you just as you are. They’re going to love you, and you them when you get to know them better.’ His hand rubs up and down my arm as I speak. ‘Just relax and enjoy the evening.’
I spy Jack and Sarah coming back, two beers in his hand, more champagne cocktails in Sarah’s.
‘She definitely looks as if she belongs on TV,’ Oscar observes. I try to see Sarah through his eyes as she heads our way, all golden tanned legs and Hollywood curls.
‘Are you sure you chose the right girl?’ I joke. I hate it, but there’s always a part of me wondering why – why would this gorgeous man want to be with someone like me?
He shows a mild flash of annoyance, and I wish I’d just kept my mouth shut. ‘You’re so wrong that I don’t know what to say.’ He softens and his hand moves to cup the back of my neck. ‘You’re always the most spectacular woman to me, Laurie. In any room or any bar or on any beach.’
He dips his head and kisses me, gentle but sure. I close my eyes and for those seconds I feel like the most spectacular woman.
‘Get a room, kids.’ Sarah’s laughter spins light and bright, and I open my eyes again and smile.
‘Blame me,’ Oscar grins. ‘I can’t keep my hands off her.’ He runs his hand from my shoulder down to my hand and catches hold of my fingers.
Behind Sarah, Jack manages to laugh while frowning at the same time, a feat of facial engineering. ‘A proper drink to cool you off, mate.’
Oscar accepts the beer, laughing, good-natured despite Jack’s inference that Oscar’s cocktail hadn’t made the cut as a proper drink.
Sarah hands me a glass of champagne, her eyes giddy with delight about me and Oscar.
Jack lounges against the wall, beer in hand. ‘So what do you do, Oscar? Besides bum around on Thai beaches picking up girls?’ He softens his comment with a wink, but all the same it feels like he’s having a dig.
‘Living with Billy seems to be rubbing off on you, Jack,’ I say, throwing in a none-too-friendly wink of my own. He shoots me a tiny ‘not bothered’ shrug, then looks away.
‘Banking,’ Oscar says with a self-deprecating smile. ‘I know. Typical posh wanker, right?’
‘Whatever floats your boat, mate.’
Okay, now that was rude. Sarah looks at Jack sharply, and quite honestly, I could tip his beer right over his annoying head. Oscar, however, is very used to derision around banking, and it rolls off his back.
‘Dull, I know. Not like you, from what I hear? Radio, isn’t it?’
Crisis averted. Jack finally finds the grace to pick up the conversational baton that Oscar has passed him, entertaining us with stories about the radio station and telling us about a more high-profile job he’s ninety-five per cent certain he’s in line for in the summer. He lights up like a flare when he talks about work, more himself, more relaxed, and I’m finally able to relax too. Perhaps the evening might not be a disaster after all.
Jack
Tonight’s all about making a point, isn’t it? Oscar posh-boy double-barrelled twat face. Let me buy you expensive fucking cocktails in my private members’ club, let me drop that I’m a banker casually into conversation, let me stick my tongue down Laurie’s throat when I know you’re both watching. Well, I’m on to you, posh boy, with your floppy black hair and your deck shoes (because who knows when you might need to step aboard someone’s yacht at a moment’s notice).
I think all of this with my cock in my hand at the urinal. I’ve been hiding out in here for the last five minutes, mostly because I know I’m acting like a dick and I don’t seem able to reel myself in. Sarah’s flashing me daggers; I won’t be peeling that dress off her anytime soon. She’s more likely to peel my scalp off, and I can’t say I blame her. I don’t know who’s winding me up more tonight, Oscar with his unshakable good nature and refusal to be needled, or Sarah for the way she’s practically jumping up and down begging to be his new best friend. I can’t help but wonder if she wants to force the same relationship with him that I have with Laurie, and I want to tell her that I’m sorry but you just can’t fake that kind of thing. It took me and Lu years. I pause to stare at myself in the mirror over the basins as I wash my hands and think about that for a second. Laurie and I hardly have much of a friendship left these days. I haven’t been alone with her since that night back in the kitchen at Delancey Street more than a year ago. Sarah accused me of acting like an over-protective big brother, but she’s wrong. I can’t claim to feel brotherly towards Laurie, I forfeited that when I – No, I’m not going to think about that now.