Page 20 of Not in a Million Years

A tissue pressed to my eyes, I shook my head, then nodded.

‘Oh, love. That’s rubbish. You wanted everyone to be here, and now he’s not. But you know…’

‘I know what?’

Abbie took my hands. ‘You love Andy. Of course you do – we all do. But I’ve known him longer than anyone – anyone except Matt, of course; they were mates at school before I turned up on the scene. And the thing about Andy is this.’

She paused again, and I waited for her to collect her thoughts and turn them into words, as she was so good at doing.

‘Andy’s a complicated person, Kate. He’s got issues. He always has done. I don’t think his parents were that great, if I’m honest. He’s always wanted to be adored, but he’s not always very good at adoring back.’

‘I don’t need him to adore me,’ I protested. ‘I just need him to—’

‘Do what the hell he says he’ll do? I’m afraid that’s always likely to be a problem.’

I didn’t want to admit it, not even to myself. But deep down I knew she was right. I hugged her again and dried my eyes, opened another bottle and returned to the dwindling crowd of my guests.

Then, just before midnight, the doorbell buzzed for the last time that night.

Of course, it was Andy, always one to make an entrance. He was wearing a peacock-blue silk shirt, open almost to the waist, over black leather trousers. His golden-blonde hair was flattened a bit, duller than usual, as if he’d been sweating heavily. His eyes were unnaturally bright, sparkling in the waxen pallor of his face. He was carrying a bottle of champagne, but the cork had been pulled and half of it drunk.

And he wasn’t alone.

With him was another man, taller than Andy and just as lean and angular. His hair was longer than Andy’s and a darker blonde, almost honey-coloured. I couldn’t see his eyes, because he was wearing lilac-lensed shades. A battered suede jacket that might once have been black but was now a faded charcoal was slung over his shoulders. There were rips in the thighs and knees of his low-slung jeans. He exuded glamour and a kind of power, a lion alongside Andy’s leopard.

‘Katie babe.’ Andy dropped to his knees in front of me. ‘There’s fashionably late, and then there’s indefensibly late. Will you forgive us? I brought you a consolation prize.’

I’d seen Andy drunk before, often – and been drunk with him. I’d seen him slip off to the bathroom on nights out and known he was doing coke, and declined when he offered to share. But I’d never seen him like this before. Still, nothing could suppress the flash of pleasure I felt at his presence – he’d come. He’d come after all. He hadn’t forgotten me.

I reached out a hand to help him to his feet. ‘Don’t be daft. You’re here now.’

He didn’t take my hand; he stood up by himself, stumbling into the door frame and thrusting the bottle into my hand. ‘Not this. Him. He’s the reason why I’m late.’

‘I’m Daniel,’ said the man in the shades. He did take my hand, sandwiching it between both of his and giving me a smile so warm and natural I couldn’t help smiling back. ‘And I really, really need a slash. Excuse me.’

I stood aside, gesturing towards the bathroom, but he shimmied past me, ricocheted off both walls of the hallway and disappeared into my bedroom.

If he pisses on my bed, I’ll wring his neck, I thought. But I heard Abbie’s voice behind me telling him the right way to go.

‘He’s an appalling influence, you know.’ Andy peered at me owlishly. ‘If you ever go on a night out with our Daniel, you’ll know all about it the next day.’

‘Come in,’ I said. ‘Come and see the flat.’

But Andy wasn’t interested in seeing the flat. He weaved over to the sofa and sat down, taking a deep swig from an abandoned champagne glass on the coffee table. Then he pulled out a pack of fags and lit one.

No one will ever smoke in here, I’d promised myself. And so far that night, no one had – they’d used the ashtray I’d left out on the balcony. But Andy was, and I did nothing to stop him.

A few moments later, Daniel joined us. He sank down onto the floor, leaned his head back against the sofa and appeared to fall asleep.

‘Oh my God, that was such a mad night,’ Andy said. ‘Well, afternoon really. We started at midday at a bar in Soho. Actually we didn’t. We started after he finished work yesterday afternoon. We might have had a couple of hours’ kip at some point – I can’t quite recall. Any chance of a canapé, Katie babe? You mentioned something about blinis.’

‘The food’s all gone,’ I said. ‘Sorry. Let me see if I’ve got some crisps.’

The last of my work and university friends trickled in from outside and said they really ought to be going. Naomi and Matt began clearing up, while Abbie sat next to Andy, listening to him talk. After a few minutes, I heard a long, sonorous snore come from Daniel. His head was tilted sideways, his mouth half-open, his too-long hair flopping down over his absurd tinted glasses, and yet he still managed to look handsome. Not handsome enough for me to forgive him, mind, but undeniably hot all the same.

I sat on a hard dining chair, suddenly exhausted. Around me was my perfect new home, not exactly trashed but clearly feeling the impact of its first party. The lilies Abbie had brought were shedding pollen on my table. Someone had spilled red wine on the dove-grey rug. The air smelled of smoke, and Andy’s cigarette butt was upended on the coffee table, a precarious tower of ash waiting to fall from it.

I’d wanted it all to be perfect, and now it wasn’t.

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