Home > Love Almost(4)

Love Almost(4)
Author: Hayley Doyle

‘Hiya,’ I say.

Beth performs a double take, then screams. ‘Bloody hell, Chlo! What are you doing here?’

I shrug.

‘I mean, is everything alright, babes?’ Beth’s hand grasps her chest. ‘You didn’t tell me you were coming … Or did you? Am I going mad? Did you message me? Did I tell you to come over?’

Beth scoops her phone off the sofa and taps the screen.

‘No, I just decided to come,’ I say.

‘Y’what?!’

In my haste, I happened to forget how much of a modern-day sin it’s become to show up at a friend’s house unannounced. I even forgot to dry my hair and apply makeup, although the latter isn’t much of a problem since I wear the bare minimum – a bright-red lip on a good day is my only major essential – but Beth doesn’t hesitate to point out my state.

‘Babes. You look. Like shit.’

‘Cheers, pal.’

‘And your roots need doing. Badly.’

Fergus returns from outside empty-handed, not acknowledging either me or Beth, and goes into the kitchen. He shouts, ‘Brew?’

Beth rolls her eyes and falls back into the sofa, ignoring his question.

‘Please,’ I shout back.

Creeping towards Beth, I sit delicately on the bold, pink armchair, smoothing down the cotton floral dress I threw on before leaving my flat. Well, I say I sit delicately. What I mean is, I try. Unlike Beth, I’m not particularly delicate or graceful, and attempting to be either takes a lot of effort. I notice a button missing from my dress, right in the middle, exposing the milky-white flab around my belly button. I cross my arms and lean forward.

‘Are you and Fergus alright?’ I whisper.

‘Oh, me and Fergie?’ Beth responds, loud enough for the whole street to hear. ‘Yeah. We’re amazing. Fucking fabulous. Aren’t we, Fergie babes?’

I hear a mug slam onto a marble work surface, followed by another.

‘He’s going on another “work” night out on Friday, aren’t you, babes?’ Beth goes on. ‘This time, it’s the casino. I mean, how exciting. How many times have you been the casino with your colleagues, babes? Once? Twice? Thirty-five thousand fucking times?’

‘Give it a rest, Beth,’ Fergus says, placing a mug of tea onto a coaster for me. I won’t get offered a biscuit, though; they’re both too health conscious to keep refined sugar in the house.

‘Rest? Oh, why would I give it a rest?’ Beth says, playing the innocent. ‘It’s so exciting. I mean, it just so happens that you wanna go out on the exact day I’ll be ovulating. Isn’t that a coincidence?’

I really should have rung her first. Or gone to my local pub.

Fergus takes a seat on the opposite end of the sofa to Beth and takes out his phone, scrolling and tapping. When he’s not in his corporate suit, he always looks as though he’s either about to hit the gym, or he’s just been. Right now, I wish he’d go to the bloody gym. They have one in the spare room.

‘Do you have to sit there?’ I’m relieved to hear Beth ask.

‘Yep,’ he grunts. ‘My sofa, too.’

I sip my tea, even though it’s still too hot, and wonder how I’m going to break the news to them that my boyfriend died today. Beth’s unfertilised eggs might not have any sympathy for me.

‘You’d think he didn’t wanna have kids,’ she goes on, as if Fergus isn’t there. ‘And I mean, it’s not me putting all the pressure on, is it? It’s his bloody mother. The amount of times she’s pestered me, asking me when I’ll give her grandkids so they can play in her massive garden-slash-field. I wouldn’t mind, but every time we’ve been up to Scotland, it’s pissed it down. I mean, I don’t want any child of mine catching pneumonia.’

‘She means well, Beth,’ Fergus says, his eyes glued to his phone.

‘So stay in this Friday.’

‘No. Why don’t you go out? You love going on the piss with your pals.’

‘Not when I’m ovulating.’

‘I told you. It’s a work thing.’

‘Does Jack devote his entire life to “work things”, Chlo? Or is just my fella?’

I don’t know how to answer these questions, but I also don’t think Beth is expecting an answer. She might be talking to me, but everything she’s saying is aimed at Fergus. She’s so wound up that she’s forgotten about being freaked out by my unexpected arrival.

‘What’s Jack’s line of work again?’ Fergus asks.

‘For fuck’s sake, Fergus. How can you not remember?’ Beth snarls.

‘I’ve only met the bloke once.’

‘So’ve I.’

‘Well forgive me for forgetting what he does.’

‘He’s a project manager, isn’t he, Chlo?’

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

‘What does that even mean? A project manager?’ Fergus asks. ‘What project does he manage?’

‘Video games,’ Beth huffs. ‘I had a whole conversation with him about it.’

‘And I suppose you’re expecting a medal?’

‘Fuck off, Fergus. Just because I take a genuine interest in people, especially important people, like the fella me best mate’s falling in love with. Do you know how long it’s been since Chloe said the “L” word to anyone? How long’s it been, babes?’

I blow out my lips and shrug.

‘Exactly. It’s been a long, long time. And this fella, this Jack, he might be the one.’

‘Steady on, Beth. She’s only been with him for five minutes—’

‘Months,’ I blurt out, interrupting Fergus. ‘Five months.’

‘Oh my God, has it been that long?’ Beth asks, her mouth hanging open. She does some calculations on her manicured fingers. ‘Wow. Time flies. How come I’ve only met him once? Bloody hell, Chlo. Where’ve you been hiding him?’

This is stupid. Beth knows that I only moved in with Jack a few weeks ago. Before that, I was living in Liverpool and Jack was coming up to visit me at weekends, or I would come to London, or we would meet in the middle somewhere and stay in a hotel. We even managed a holiday in Thailand for two weeks. And anyway, if memory serves me, Beth kept Fergus a secret for a year before she introduced him to anybody. But none of this matters now. This whole conversation is moving at such a pace, it’s like I’m on a train and completely missed the stop where I’m supposed to announce why I’m really here.

‘Before you know it, twelve years’ll go like that,’ Beth clicks. ‘Beware, babes. You might end up like me and soft lad.’

‘Well, I won’t get the chance to find out,’ I say.

Beth’s hand clasps her mouth and it dawns on her why I must look so dreadful.

‘You split up?’ she asks, high-pitched like a violin. ‘Is that why you’re here?’

I shake my head. Fergus finally sees this as a reason to leave the room and mutters something about leaving us ‘ladies’ to it, but Beth orders him to sit back down.

‘You’ll only ask me what happened later,’ she says. ‘Be supportive, Fergus.’

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