What might have been, p.28
What Might Have Been, page 28
‘I was just trying to make my mind up.’
‘About marrying David? That’s a funny way to go about it.’
‘Yeah. Or, you know, about not marrying him.’
Grace froze melodramatically, a mug in one hand, her teabag in the other, and under different circumstances, Sarah might have found the spectacle comical.
‘Ri-ight.’
‘Am I being stupid?’
‘How? By marrying David, or not marrying David, or by sleeping with Evan? Because the answer might be “yes” to all of those things.’
Sarah sat down heavily at the kitchen table. ‘It’s all just so confusing. I’d just about convinced myself I was doing the right thing, and now . . .’
‘Whoa.’ Grace finally dropped the teabag into the mug, then set it down on the kitchen surface. ‘You’d “just about convinced” yourself ?’
‘Well, yes. Isn’t that what everyone who gets married has to do?’
Grace pulled out a chair and sat down. ‘Sweetie, the decision to get married should be the easiest one anyone ever has to make. Not the hardest. You shouldn’t have to convince yourself.’
‘Well, there was no-one else on the horizon . . .’
‘You sound like you have to get married.’
‘Don’t I?’
‘No, Sarah. You don’t.’
‘Well, why does it feel like that?’
Grace took her hand. ‘Ask yourself something. If all things were equal, and you had to pick between Evan and David, who would you choose?’
‘All things aren’t equal, Grace.’
‘Maybe not. But this should be a happy event. You’re sounding like a condemned woman who’s been asked to choose between death by firing squad or lethal injection. And if that’s how you feel about marriage, then you’d better pull out now.’
Sarah almost laughed. Did she really see marriage to David as a death sentence? She didn’t think so. Though maybe it was a life sentence instead.
‘Listen,’ continued Grace. ‘Do you still have feelings for Evan?’
‘I don’t go around sleeping with just anyone, you know?’
‘But you obviously don’t have feelings for David.’
‘Of course I do!’
‘So why did you cheat on him and sleep with Evan, then? And twice!’
‘It was just the once. I mean, I wanted to do it again, but . . . Oh, you meant a year ago.’
Grace rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, Sarah.’
‘Well, to . . .’ Sarah had been about to say it had been to make sure of her feelings for David, but she now realised it was more about making sure of her feelings for Evan. ‘Do you think I’m making a mistake?’
‘By doing what?’
‘Marrying David. Or, you know, not,’ she added, helplessly.
Grace opened her mouth to respond, then paused, as if considering her words carefully. ‘Well, that all depends how you feel about him, of course, but if you’re asking me . . .’
‘I am.’
‘Well, I just think that . . . I mean, I like David, but . . .’
‘No you don’t.’
‘I do. While he may not be my type of person, I can see that he means well, and that he cares for you.’
‘Right.’
‘But . . .’
‘But?’
‘Is he really your soul mate?’
Sarah made a face. ‘Who knows? And besides, does that concept really exist outside of all those novels with pink hearts and wedding cakes on their covers? I’m not so sure.’
‘Of course it does.’
‘Really? Where’s yours, then?’
‘Where’s my what?’
‘Your “soul mate”,’ said Sarah, pronouncing the words as sarcastically as she could. ‘Someone who’s swept you off your feet. Who you can’t bear to be without. You’re a beautiful woman. You’ve had lots of boyfriends. I’ve seen men throw themselves at you. You even work somewhere called “Guy’s” Hospital, yet you’re still single, so where’s yours? If you’re playing the law of averages, he must be out there somewhere. So if he exists, why haven’t you found him yet?’
Grace seemed a little put out at Sarah’s outburst. ‘Well, because I’m still looking. It’s just . . .’
‘. . . that no-one’s matched up yet to your idea of what an ideal partner should be?’
‘Something like that,’ said Grace, defensively. ‘And besides, my job doesn’t exactly leave me much time for, you know . . .’ She stopped talking while the kettle noisily came to the boil. ‘Dating. Or give me much opportunity at all, come to think of it, given that the people I meet at work are mostly mad, rather than mad about me.’
‘I’m sorry, Grace. I’m not attacking you. It’s just . . .’ She leant back and stared out of the window. ‘Who do you know who’s actually found theirs?’
‘Evan seems to think he has.’
‘You’re missing my point.’
Grace poured boiling water into her mug. ‘Which is?’
‘Maybe we all set the bar too high. Let’s face it: life isn’t all about starry-eyed romance. You have to be practical. Find someone who doesn’t piss you off too much, and work out if you can stand to be with them for the rest of your days. And do you know what? I think David stands a pretty good chance of being that person.’
Grace let out a short laugh. ‘You sound like you’re still trying to convince yourself. And it’s a little close to the wedding to be doing that.’
‘Okay. Maybe I am. But it’s not a bad strategy, is it?’
Grace looked at her for a moment. ‘What about love?’
‘That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. It doesn’t exist. Not true, full-on romantic love, anyway. You have attraction. You have lust. But they don’t last.’
‘Did you ever have those with David?’
‘That’s not . . .’ Sarah shook her head. ‘What I mean is, marriage isn’t based around some sort of magical, all-encompassing feeling.’
‘Like you have with Evan, you mean?’
‘That’s unfair, Grace. It’s about companionship. Comfort. Routine.’
‘But don’t you think it’d be better if it was based around love? Or at least started that way?’
‘Why? I mean, how many times have you been in love?’
Grace shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I suppose I thought I was, once or twice.’
‘Exactly. And it hasn’t lasted, has it? Or it’s turned out not to be what you thought it was, so why on earth should I expect it to last with Evan?’
‘So you were in love with him?’
‘That’s not the point!’
‘No? What is, then?’
‘The point is, Grace, that even if it was there with David, it’d fade eventually, so as long as we were both getting what we wanted out of the relationship . . .’
‘And what do you want out of the relationship?’
‘Someone who isn’t going to hurt me,’ said Sarah, quietly.
‘That’s your problem.’ Grace fished the teabag out of her mug and dropped it into the sink. ‘Why you never let your defences down with Evan. Because you were scared he’d hurt you.’
‘And he did, didn’t he? By leaving, and not even bothering to try to get in touch.’
‘But doesn’t the scale of that hurt – after just one night together, may I remind you – tell you that maybe he was the one? And believe me, I’m as amazed as anyone to be arguing Evan’s case, but don’t you see? It might be him. Now he’s back, and you’ve got a second chance. Don’t you think you owe it to yourself to at least investigate that properly?’
‘It’s too late, Grace.’
Grace splashed some milk into her mug. ‘Why?’
Sarah looked at her friend, wondering why she couldn’t understand. Fear of abandonment was what her shrink back in New York had told her she was suffering from, though Sarah had always felt that fear was pretty well-founded. First her mother, then her father, and then Evan; they’d all left her – or at least, not been around when she’d needed them, whereas David? He’d done the complete opposite – and she’d be eternally grateful to him for that. But while she knew Grace would be familiar with the terminology, she feared she might not understand her actions.
‘Because Evan left me once. And he could do it again.’
Grace sat back down at the table and cradled her mug. ‘Have you forgotten why he left you? The small matter of you telling him to?’
Sarah coloured slightly. ‘Well, doesn’t that just prove how little he valued our relationship?’
‘Not at all. In fact – and forgetting the small matter that he was going to ask you to come with him . . .’
‘Or so he says.’
‘. . . quite the opposite.’
‘Huh?’
Grace reached across and squeezed her hand. ‘Maybe it proved to him how little you did. And if you want my opinion, it’s a wonder he decided to come back for you.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘And the fact that he was prepared to do that, take the risk, knowing he was playing second fiddle, and in the middle of the most important time of his career . . . Surely that proves how much he cares about you?’
‘Well, why didn’t he say anything when he left?’
‘What was he going to do – make some huge declaration of love, only to have it thrown straight back at him? Because that’s probably what he thought would happen.’
‘Maybe that’s what I wanted him to do.’
‘It seems to me that’s what you’re getting now.’
Sarah stood up, then walked over to the fridge and peered inside, more for something to do than because she was hungry. ‘Well, like I said, it’s too late.’
‘No it isn’t,’ said Grace. ‘Sunday might be. And anyway, are you sure you’re not just being stubborn – as usual?’
Sarah smiled. From first getting into banking through to her decision to up sticks and move to London, once she’d set her mind on something, she’d rarely change it. ‘Yeah, well, sometimes it’s the only way to get through life’s hardships.’
‘But marrying David isn’t a hardship, surely? Or at least, it shouldn’t be.’
‘Maybe,’ she conceded.
‘So don’t you think that perhaps this one time you should break that cast-iron rule of yours? Otherwise you’re just being pig-headed, and that’s not right where marriage is concerned.’ Grace blew on the top of her tea and took a sip. ‘All I’m saying is, you’ve got someone who obviously loves you. Don’t you think you ought to at least be absolutely sure whether you love him back before you do something that might just ruin his life?’
Sarah slammed the fridge door shut and wheeled around. ‘Why should I? What has Evan possibly done to deserve that?’
‘What has Evan done? Flown halfway around the world to tell you how he feels, perhaps? Been prepared to risk the biggest break in his career just to see if there’s the slightest chance that the two of you can get back together. And actually . . .’
‘Actually what?’
Grace regarded her levelly. ‘I was talking about David.’
48
Evan?’
Sarah stared at her office phone as if it had cheated on her. Reception had put the call through as being from Guy’s Hospital, and while her first reaction had been that Grace must have had an accident on her way to work this morning, the sound of Evan’s voice hadn’t quite left her feeling relieved.
‘Don’t hang up.’
‘What do you want?’
‘Just to talk.’
She got up to close her office door. ‘I can’t. I’ve got some . . . stuff to sort out.’
‘Because of what happened?’
‘What happened, Evan? We took a misguided stroll down memory lane, and it . . .’ She swallowed hard. ‘It was a mistake. Don’t make me feel any worse about it than I already do.’
‘There’s no reason to feel bad about it, Sarah. You were following your heart.’
‘Believe me. That wasn’t the part of my body that was calling the shots.’
‘Why haven’t you been returning my calls?’
‘Because . . . because I’m getting married on Saturday.’
‘That could still happen . . .’ Evan paused, then took a deep breath. ‘Just marry me instead.’
Sarah stared at her phone in disbelief, then realised how ridiculous that must have looked, so put it back to her ear. ‘What?’
‘Not necessarily this Saturday. Well, not unless you wanted to. What I really meant was that you should, you know, think about it. Marriage.’
‘You don’t think that’s what I’ve been doing?’
‘Well, no. Not to me, at least.’
‘I . . . I can’t, Evan.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because . . .’ Sarah sighed. ‘Because it’s too confusing. You’re asking me to make a leap that just seems too far at the moment.’
‘At the moment?’
‘Why didn’t you say anything before? Anything at all. You’ve had a year.’
There was another pause, and then: ‘I thought about getting in touch. Once or twice.’
‘Well, this isn’t one of those occasions when it’s the thought that counts.’
‘It just didn’t seem appropriate.’
‘Appropriate?’
‘We weren’t even in a proper relationship, for God’s sake. He was your boyfriend. I was just a bit of fun for you.’
‘Is that really how you saw it?’
‘You hardly gave me the impression it was anything more.’
‘I’ve told you why that was.’
‘And I believe you. Which is why it’s even more important you give me a chance.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Not even after Tuesday night.’
‘Don’t go there, Evan.’
‘So that’s it, then? David beat me to it?’
‘It wasn’t a competition, Evan. It’s not like the gold rush, where the first person to stake their claim wins.’
‘No? Well, why does it feel like that to me?’
‘I didn’t hear a thing from you.’ She sat down heavily at her desk. ‘For a year. And then the baby . . .’ She gripped the phone hard to stop her voice from faltering. ‘David’s offering me security. Stability. Whereas you . . .’
‘. . . can offer you something he can’t.’
A knock on the door startled her, and she got up to answer it. ‘Which is what, exactly?’
Evan knew this was the chance to play his trump card, and this time, he didn’t want to miss the opportunity. ‘The chance to go back home, Sarah.’
He waited for a response, but none came. She’d put the phone down on him.
49
Sarah was sitting in Postman’s Park, staring blankly at the plaques along the far wall. She’d desperately needed some time to think, although so far the two hours she’d been here since she’d left the office early hadn’t been long enough.
She’d had to end Evan’s call abruptly when David had knocked on her office door, and while she was confident her fiancé hadn’t heard anything, it had taken a good ten minutes for her heart to stop racing. And though she was sure that was a result of nearly being caught, she knew it was also in part due to Evan’s statement. He’d intrigued her with his mention of ‘home’, and several times during the day she’d thought about calling him back, but to use Evan’s term, that wouldn’t have been appropriate. And she’d been far too inappropriate with him recently.
At least David and she had made up. It was the first time the two of them had spoken since their contretemps over lunch the previous day, and while she assumed at first he’d popped in to apologise to her, in actual fact, he’d been there to give her that opportunity. She’d taken it, of course, though when he’d left, a satisfied look on his face, Sarah had found herself wanting to take the apology back. It was all about winning with him. Being the last to give in. And she hated the fact that she’d blinked first.
She stifled a yawn, and realised she’d hardly slept for the past few nights, though for a second at Evan’s the other evening, she’d felt she could have dropped off quite comfortably, before she’d suddenly remembered what was happening on Saturday. The day after tomorrow. And that had woken her up pretty dramatically.
Sarah could hardly believe it was so close. Back when she and David had first got engaged, the wedding had been so far away it hadn’t seemed real. Even the trip to Tiffany’s had been more like a day out than some significant event, the ring just the latest in the series of expensive things David had bought her rather than a symbol of their impending commitment. But now, even though the day itself was a relatively small affair, all the ancillary stuff – the invitations, the cake – were all beginning to feel almost menacing. Even the dress she’d been starving herself for weeks to fit into . . .
Sarah leapt up off the bench and checked her watch. Her dress. She’d been supposed to collect it yesterday.
She almost ran out of the park, and headed south towards Hays Galleria. How could she have forgotten to pick it up? Did that mean something – or was it the only thing she could delay, given the inevitability of Saturday? Though maybe, like Grace had suggested, she could ask David for a postponement. Tell him that . . . Tell him what? What possible reason could she have for not going through with a wedding they’d been planning since they’d set the date all those months ago? Especially since all she had to do was turn up.
Or perhaps not.
It occurred to her to just keep walking. The Eurostar could whisk her to France, and from there . . . well, who knew? She could pop back to her flat, collect her passport, and be in Paris by dinner time. But then again, she’d never considered herself the running away type.
Or was she? In her more reflective moments, Sarah sometimes felt that coming to England after her father died had been running away. Escaping from everything that New York reminded her of: the cancer that had taken her father, the environment that had seduced her mother away from the little family unit in which, for a few short years, she’d felt so safe. Here in London she’d been able to start again, make new friends, move in different circles, reinvent herself as a tough, no-nonsense Sarah Bishop who bore no relation to the person who’d been the victim of all that crap. She’d enjoyed being different, too; there was something about being an American abroad that she’d found romantic. And that others – David and Evan in particular – seemed to find almost exotic about her.
