‘I smoked before we started going out,’ he said quietly.
‘We’ve been going out for five years,’ I replied in a voice just as hushed but, regardless of volume control, I could see a small audience with ears pricked across the street.
Suddenly our private conversation felt very public.
‘Five years is a long time.’ Simon pulled his arm away from me, stepped back and took another drag. ‘And I don’t want to be on a break either. So we’re agreed that the break isn’t working.’
‘Simon, I’m really not following,’ I was totally lost. This was really, really not how this was supposed to go. We were supposed to be halfway to doing something indecent in the back of a taxi by now, not rambling in the middle of the street while Matthew pretended not to be watching from the doorway of the club. And, oh brilliant, Em was there as well. At least Paul had stayed downstairs – oh, wait a minute, nope, there he was. Just what I needed.
‘I know I haven’t dealt with the whole break-up very well, but I don’t want to make it any harder than it is already.’ Simon shrugged. ‘It’s not been easy for me either, you know.’
‘What are you talking about?’ I grabbed his arm tight and got as close to his face as was humanly possible given his cigarette breath. This was supposed to be seductive, not confusing and gross. ‘Can we please just go home?’
‘I’m not coming home.’ He shook off my arm and stepped backwards. ‘This isn’t a break, Rachel.’
Simon looked pale and awkward and it didn’t really matter how cold it was any more.
‘I don’t want to be on a break because I want to be with you,’ I said softly, staring steadily at his shoes. ‘It’s just a break. We’re not, you know, we’re not. Not on a break.’
For a few moments, he didn’t say anything. I didn’t say anything. Across the street, I could hear people talking, laughing, even some shouting a couple of doors down, but it seemed as if it was miles away. I coughed, just to check I could still make noise.
‘Simon, I love you.’
Nothing.
‘Simon?’
Still nothing.
I pressed my lips together to try and stop the tears that were tickling the corners of my eyes, blurring the bright red postbox into a red slash to the side of me.
‘Simon, please.’ I tried to keep my voice even but I was having enough trouble getting the words out at all. ‘You’re my boyfriend.’
Simon took one last drag, dropped the cigarette butt and ground it into the pavement with a brown leather shoe I didn’t recognize. Looking up at the sky, he blew out his breath loudly.
‘You’re not the one.’
I folded my arms tightly, pressing my fingernails into my bare arms.
‘I’m sorry, Rachel,’ he said, looking quickly back down at the street. Anywhere but at me. ‘I’m wasting your time. You’re not the one.’
‘I’m not …’ I cleared my throat and started again. ‘I’m not the one?’
‘No,’ Simon replied.
‘Is someone else the one?’ I asked, afraid to hear the answer. ‘Are you … is there …?’
‘No,’ he said, finally looking somewhere just to the right of my nose. Still not quite at my eyes. ‘Honest. It’s just, I thought about it and I care about you, I do, you’re just not the one. We’re not going to work out in the end.’
‘Any reason in particular?’ I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. ‘What did I do?’
‘You didn’t do anything,’ he shrugged. ‘I just woke up one day and I knew. I thought the break would help but …’
‘You thought the break would be easier than out-and-out breaking up with me,’ I revised for him. ‘And that I would get the hint or something?’
‘I’m sorry, I haven’t done this very well.’ He went back to his pocket for the cigarettes but they were still in my hand. Impetuously, I threw them into the road and under a car. ‘Rachel, I just don’t, I’m not, god this is shit. I’ll always love you, I’m just not, you know.’
‘I don’t know actually.’ I shook my head and felt my hair fall around my shoulders. ‘Because I love you.’
‘Jesus, Rach.’ Simon reached an arm out towards my bare shoulder and laid his hand against my skin. It should have felt warm and reassuring but instead it stung. ‘I’m sorry.’ He pulled his hand away and shoved it back into his empty pocket.
I took a step backwards, blinking until the tears slipped over my eyelids and ran down my cheeks. At least I wasn’t wearing any mascara. Nothing like panda eyes to make a girl look utterly pathetic. I looked at him. His short dark-blond hair was darker in the streetlight and his eyes were red and tired. The strangest thing was looking at his lips. And letting the fact that I wouldn’t be kissing them ever again settle in my mind. They were off-limits. He was off-limits. No longer mine. Another step back and I took him in completely. All five feet nine of ex-boyfriend. Ex. What a horrible sound. This wasn’t my Simon; this was a stranger. I stepped back again, stumbling off the kerb and into the road.
‘Rachel!’ Someone shouted sharply and I turned around just in time to see a black cab whirr past me, beeping his horn, the driver shouting something like ‘stupid cow’ out of the window. Even though I was still standing in the road, I couldn’t seem to move. Instead, I sat down. Which seemed like a sensible idea.
‘Rachel,’ another voice said, softer this time but closer. I felt several arms wrap around me and pull me to my feet before hearing raised voices and scuffling behind me.
‘Get her in a cab,’ Matthew’s voice commanded someone. ‘I’ll sort these two out.’
I was more interested in my shoes. I loved these shoes. How long had Simon had those brown shoes? How come I hadn’t seen them before? He’d probably bought them earlier – only a boy would go out dancing on a Friday night in new shoes without knowing whether or not they’d rub. Which of course they would; all of his shoes rubbed.
‘Rachel, are you OK?’ Em’s voiced asked.
I nodded.
‘Me and Matthew are coming home with you.’ Her voice was coming from somewhere above me but I couldn’t quite focus on it.
I shook my head.
‘Yes, we are.’
‘No,’ I said steadily. ‘I just want to go home and sleep. Really. Just come over in the morning. I’ll need you in the morning.’
‘I really think we should come home with you, just me or just Matthew, whoever you want. This is not open for discussion.’
I shook my head again and stretched my arm out to an approaching black cab. ‘I’m fine.’
Before she could do anything, I shook Emelie off and opened the cab door, slamming it shut behind me, hitting my leg in the process. I didn’t feel it.
‘Amwell Street, Islington?’ I leaned forward until I saw the driver nod and then slouched back while he did a U-turn. Out of the window, I saw Emelie throwing her hands up at Matthew who was holding his own hands over his face. Behind them, Paul was holding his nose but I couldn’t see Simon. Until we stopped at a traffic light. Then I spotted him. On the floor at Paul’s feet with Mark the Stranger at the side of him.
Well, would you look at that?
CHAPTER THREE
By the time the cab dropped me off at home, I’d replayed our conversation over in my head so many times, it felt like