Page 14 of A Face in the Crowd
‘We had savings,’ I add. ‘It was all in joint accounts for the wedding and a house – but that had gone, too. He must have spent it on business trips, but it’s not really clear where all the money went. It wasn’t in our account when he died. He spent his money and mine.’
The waiter proves he really does have the worst timing by sauntering over and placing a newly filled glass in front of me. Perhaps it’s me, my state of mind, but I think he makes a point of saying ‘tapwater’ when he does so, as if to point out how cheap I am. Either way, he disappears after that.
Harry is silent for a moment. He’s drumming his fingers on his cheek and, though I know he’s staring at me, I can’t meet his eyes.
‘How did he get away with it?’ Harry asks.
‘I guess he didn’t. Not in the end. Karma and all that. He said he was a day trader, buying and selling shares usually from home. Other times he said he had conferences to go to, people and investors to meet. That sort of thing.’
Harry nods, but I’m not sure he understands. I’m not sureIunderstand. It sounds so pathetic out loud. How did I fall for it all? Maybe hewasa trader and lost all our money in some stupid stock market gamble? Perhaps he blew it all on holidays and who knows what else?
The truth that I can’t say is that I don’t know what to think of him. I feel nothing and everything. I despise him but I don’t. Despite everything I found out after he died, there’s a part of me that still doesn’t feel like it’s all real because I didn’t see any of it when we were together. Seeing is believing and all that. I loved him once, but there’s hate there, too – because this is the life he’s left me with. Spending the pittance I earn on paying off his debts and getting close to a panic attack because I ordered a meal that costs fourteen pounds.
Harry takes a deep breath and glances towards the door. I wonder if outside, away from me, is where he’d rather be. I wouldn’t blame him.
‘Well…’ he says. ‘I didn’t expect that.’
Chapter Seven
I apologise but Harry waves it off.
‘It’s a big thing in your life,’ he says, which is quite the understatement. ‘It’d be ridiculous to expect you not to speak about it.’
He’s right – but there’s a time and a place, and I fear this is neither.
There’s an impasse between us, a moment to let the dust settle. I look to the waiter on the other side of the restaurant, hoping our food can arrive to stop me saying something else stupid, but there’s no such luck. The gentle clatter of the other diners has risen again – or perhaps it was always there and the quiet was only my imagination.
‘What about you?’ I ask, somewhat hoping there’s something in his past that will take the attention from me.
He snorts slightly. ‘I’ve had a few girlfriends but nothing major.’ He stops and waits for me to catch his eye. ‘No train crashes,’ he adds. It could sound mean but it doesn’t. There’s a shyness to the slight upturn in his lips. He’s testing the boundaries of what I might find acceptable. I don’t need to force myself to smile back because it comes naturally. I didn’t think I’d ever laugh about everything my life has become, but here we are.
I’m taken back out of the conversation by the beeping of my phone as I scramble into my bag to shut it up. It’s buried underneath the envelope of money, but, by the time I get to it, all that’s on the screen is another missed call from ‘unknown’.
‘My friend’s dog-sitting,’ I say, holding up my phone. It’s notquitea lie. Karen is keeping an eye on Billy – but it has nothing to do with the phone in my hand.
Harry asks if everything is okay and I tell him it is.
After that, the food finally arrives. We eat and we chat. I find myself trying to listen to him, while compulsively adding up what each mouthful of food costs. Aside from that, it’s all very pleasant. Very…normal. It feels as if I’ve got rid of the madness and, now it’s in the open, I can attempt to be a human being capable of having conversations about the weather and whatever else it is people talk about.
I sometimes think most of the struggle in being an adult is maintaining that fraudulent face of normality. If others knew half the mad things that jump into a person’s thoughts, everyone would be single and have no friends.
I take my time with the food – it’s the most I’ve eaten in one go for weeks. Harry finishes first, but that’s fine because he’s telling me about the American states he’s visited through the course of his work. It’s the kind of thing I used to dream about, perhaps even plan. I wonder if I ever told Ben about it. There was always something about the top-down road trip of Hollywood movies that seemed so romantically appealing, even if real life would make that impossible because of the heat and wind. Then life gets in the way and, before anyone knows what’s going on, existence is a one-bedroom flat and forty-hours-a-week on a checkout till.
The waiter returns and removes our plates, before asking about dessert. My mouth waters and I so want to say yes – but it’s an extravagance too far. Harry has no such reservations, opting for some cherry-chocolate thing and specifically asking for two spoons.
We sit for a few moments, neither quite sure what to say.
It’s Harry who breaks first. He angles his head towards the street. ‘Would you like to do this again?’ he asks.
If I’m honest, it’s not felt like a date; more a meal out with a colleague. That’s my fault, of course. I’ve never been a big believer in the fairy-tale world of love at first sight and butterflies in the stomach. I’m not sure if I think soulmates are a real thing, either. I never had that with Ben, nor with anyone else. I didn’t feel it when I first saw Harry, or when we shook hands. It might be me. I know that.
‘Sure,’ I reply, almost through politeness. It should be him that’s running for the hills, who’s texting mates to say, ‘I ended up with a right basket case tonight’. It feels wrong that he’s asking about a second date and I’m the one who doesn’t know.
He claps his hands together softly and breaks into a grin. ‘Fantastic. How about this week? There’s a big bonfire out at—’
‘I can’t,’ I say. ‘It’s Billy. He’s scared of the bangs and people will be setting fireworks off all week. I can’t leave him alone.’
Harry scratches a little behind his ear. ‘I’d invite you over to my apartment – youandBilly – it’s just off Livingstone Street, but there’s the no pets rule.’
