A Girl Like You - A Girl Like You Part 13
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A Girl Like You Part 13

'Well, now that we're in this together. My mother has even stopped telling me to come home to Yorkshire so she can find me a nice local man. She thinks you're a good influence . . . I just don't feel as alone as I used to.'

I'm shocked. I didn't know Plum ever felt alone.

'I think we should date more than one guy at once,' I say flippantly. 'Spread the risk. Mix the good guys with the bad guys. Like an investment bank.'

'Isn't it that kind of thinking that started the global financial meltdown?' asks Plum.

I shrug. 'Yeah, you know, churn and burn them . . .' I pause, and look at her. 'That's exactly what we should do!'

'You're turning into a bastard commitment-phobe, now?'

'It seems better than the alternative.'

'Alright, girls,' says Henry. 'I'm going to introduce myself to some chicks.'

'Don't call us chicks,' say Plum and I in unison.

'Ladies, then,' he says.

A few hours later, I'm having a brilliant time. Farewell parties can be risky: the mix of school, work and university friends results in either a seriously segregated party, or a free-for-all social orgy where everyone talks to everyone else. This is the latter.

Henry's in the corner with a girl Plum and I helped him meet, and Plum's over the other side of the room talking to a couple of guys I don't know. And I'm talking to Rich again. He's been discussing the ideal time to send out group emails. His invitation to the farewell party 2 pm last Thursday was apparently very carefully thought out.

'Friday is the best day for group banter,' he nods. 'I'm at my funniest on Fridays. Wednesdays you'd have to email me something pretty damn good to get me to respond. And on Mondays and Tuesdays, I don't want to hear from anyone unless I skipped out on a bar bill or trashed your gaff on the weekend.'

'Maybe you should write up these guidelines and send them to all your friends,' I suggest.

'I know,' he sighs. 'But they'd label me, you know. "Pushy". "Bossy".' He holds his hands up in an exaggerated 'quote mark' mime.

'"Anti-social". "Surly". "High Maintenance",' I continue glibly, then look at his pretend-hurt face with mock surprise. 'Too far? Did I go too far?'

'Fuck it, Abigail, why are you single now, when I'm leaving?' says Rich, leaning back and looking at me.

'You'll get over it,' I say tartly. Bonjour confidence. Churn et burn.

'Dreadful timing. Dreadful.'

'By the way,' I say. 'Who's Plum talking to?' This flirting is good, but Plum's admission about feeling alone has made me feel protective of her.

'Dan and Pete. I work with them.'

I look over and see Plum laughing and shaking her head at something one of them is saying. She looks her happy, pretty self. High five, Plum, I think. Bulletproof.

A second later, my sister Sophie and Luke walk in to the party, followed by Robert. Sophie and Luke look worried, and Robert is squinting and tripping over something at the door.

Sophie searches the room and we meet eyes. Something is wrong. Weren't they supposed to be at someone's 30th tonight?

'Excuse me, Rich,' I say, and hurry over to Sophie. Before I can get there, I'm almost knocked over by a bear hug from Robert.

'Abbbyyy,' Robert croons into my ear, and leans back to beam at me. I realise that he's absolutely hammered. He's actually cross-eyed. I look at Sophie and Luke in alarm.

'What the fuck?'

'He said he had to talk to you about being bulletproof,' says Luke, sighing. 'We were just up at The Anglesea Arms, so we thought the walk might sober him up.'

'It's been an eventful night,' adds Sophie quietly. 'We'll tell you more later.'

I turn to Robert. He's staring into space. 'Are you OK?'

He focuses on me. 'Oh Abby . . . I want you to know . . . I am so full of shit. You should not listen to me. I know nothing.' He can barely talk, he's slurring so badly.

'Do you want a glass of water?'

'I'd like a pint of WINE!' he shouts excitedly. People around us start looking over. It's only 10.30 pm. 'What are you looking at, googly?' Robert points at a guy with glasses. 'Do you google in your googlies? HA!' He turns back to us and puts up his hand for a high five.

'Shut. Up!' I hiss at him through clenched teeth. I turn to Sophie and Luke. 'Let's get him downstairs.'

'I'm going to talk to Rich,' nods Sophie. 'We can't turn up to his party with a gibbering drunk he doesn't know and not even say hi.'

'You're a hi,' says Robert, and starts laughing helplessly.

'OK,' I say. 'I'll get him out of here.'

I turn to Robert. 'Robert. Robert.' He turns to me and closes one eye to focus. The other is bloodshot. 'Let's go downstairs.'

'Abby-gail,' he singsongs, obediently following me out the door. I turn as we leave and see Plum looking over. She's just talking to the tall guy now, who looks completely besotted by her. I give her a questioning thumbs up and she nods.

'I'm not ash drunk ash I'm pretending,' whispers Robert, extremely loudly, stumbling down the stairs to the main bar.

'Really,' I say, scanning the room for a spare table. Spying one, I grab Robert, sit him down, and then get a pint of water for him and a glass of wine for me. When I get back, he's slumped in his chair, blinking groggily.

'What happened, Robert?' I say.

'You never call me Rob,' he replies, making a valiant attempt to sit up straight. 'Everyone elsh does. Why?'

'I don't think of you as a Rob,' I say. 'You're a Robert.'

'I am. I am Robert.' He sighs. 'Was at another fucking 30th. For Dave. Another fucking groomsman.'

'Dave, Luke's groomsman, yes,' I nod. I've never met him.

'And his sister is the . . . the one I told you about.'

'Which one?' I say, confused. Robert never talks about his ladyfriends in any kind of detail.

'The one. The one from the party. With the train and no shoes.'

'Dave's sister is the girl you proposed to?' I ask. 'Like, 10 years ago?'

'Yes. Her. Stupid. Stupid Robert.'

'Did something happen?'

He sighs, and swings his head to the side and gazes at me. 'You're so pretty.'

'Robert!' I snap. I'm intrigued. 'Tell me what happened.'

'She was there. Louisa.' He rolls out the name slowly. Looooeeeeeeessaaaaa.

'Oh, shit,' I say. 'But, surely . . .'

'Surely it was years ago. Surely you're over it, Robert. Don't call me Shirley. HA!' Robert laughs and slaps his knee.

'How's it going?' says a voice, and I look up. It's Luke.

I stand up and, with my back to Robert, ask quietly: 'What happened with Louisa?'

'He told you about her?' says Luke in surprise. 'God, she's an evil bitch. We saw her, she's with her husband, everyone was very civil, then Rob drank straight whisky for two hours.'

'That's such a bad idea,' I shudder at the thought.

Luke nods. 'So was Louisa.'

'He told me about proposing to her,' I say as quietly as I can, so Robert won't hear.

'Which time?' replies Luke with a wry smile.

'It happened more than once?'

Luke nods.

'What are we whishpering about?' says Robert, who has hopped up out of his chair and is propping his chin over my shoulder unsteadily.

'Whisky,' I say. 'You are one messy drunk.'

'I'm not,' he says indignantly, and belches pungently. 'Oops. Damn wine.'

I look down and see that he's just drunk my entire glass of white wine.

'Nice move, hotshot. That was mine. The water is yours.'

Robert sighs, hiccups and assumes a hangdog expression. 'I'm sawry . . .'

Luke and I exchange glances as Sophie comes up.

'How's it going down here?'

'Disastrous,' I say.

'Soph-AY!' exclaims Robert delightedly. He pushes past Luke and I to hug her, but loses his balance and tackles her to the floor, knocking over a table and chair on the way. The noise is almighty. Everyone in the pub immediately falls silent and looks over.

'Ow,' says Sophie, blushing scarlet as she gets up, trying to look extremely sober and disapproving so everyone knows she's not the drunk idiot in this situation.

Robert is lying groggily on the floor, looking mildly confused. He is clearly the drunk idiot in this situation.

'We have to get him out of here,' I say to Luke and Sophie, looking over at the bartenders who are talking amongst themselves. 'We are two seconds away from being kicked out.'

'Agreed,' says Luke, and leans over to hoist Robert up. The three of us drag/support him out of the bar and into the cool night air. God, he's heavy. I immediately light a stressed cigarette.

'Oh! Yes. Cigarette for Robert,' says Robert, pushing us off him and trying to walk alone.

'No,' I say. God, drunk people are annoying. 'We're taking you home and putting you to bed.'

'Naughty!' exclaims Robert, and promptly falls over again.

By the time we find a black cab willing to take us home, it's past 11 pm. I text Plum on the way, saying an emergency came up and I had to leave. We carry a nearly-asleep Robert to bed ('On his side!' I say. 'He might choke on his own vomit.' 'He's not Jim Morrison,' replies Sophie. 'I thought it was the lead singer from AC/DC?' I say. 'It was Jimi Hendrix, but is this important right now?' says Luke) and then we retire to the living room.

'What a car crash,' I comment, opening a bottle of wine and getting out three glasses. I haven't heard from Plum yet, but I think I should probably go back to the party.

'You should have seen him when it happened,' says Luke. 'Poor bastard. She annihilated him.'

'I can't imagine it,' say Sophie and I in unison.

'Tell me the whole story,' I say.

'Ah, look, Robert will tell you himself one day,' says Luke uneasily.

'God! I hate the way you won't gossip,' says Sophie despairingly.

'Sorry, darling,' says Luke, grinning at her. She smiles hopefully back, and he relents. 'The short version is: Rob and Dave and I were friends at school. Our dads all went to university together, and we all used to go on holiday in the same village in France and have BBQs together every night, that sort of thing. And Rob always had a thing for Louisa, who is Dave's big sister . . . With me so far?'

Sophie and I nod.

'Then they finally got together when we were about 22. It was pretty serious, he proposed when he was hammered, then came down the following weekend and proposed properly. With a ring and everything. She said no and broke up with him,' Sophie and I gasp 'and he ploughed his study and came down to work in the City instead I think just to be closer to her . . . and then she continued to string him along. For years, she turned to him whenever she broke up with someone. He moved to Boston to study, to get away from her, but still, he'd fly back whenever she asked.'

'Bitch,' say Sophie and I in unison.

'I know,' says Luke. Like most men, Luke's very good at gossiping, despite pretending to hate it. 'And when he was 26, they began seeing each other properly again, and after six months, he proposed. Again.'

'No!' hiss Sophie and I in unison again.

'Yep. And she said no. Turned out she'd been cheating on him the whole time. With the guy who is now her husband. It wasn't a car crash. Rob was roadkill.'

'NO!' we shout.

'Poor darling Rob . . .' says Sophie sadly. 'No wonder he's so allergic to commitment now.'

'Wowsers,' I say. 'That's so awful.'