‘Why you dragging me to some bloody council meeting? You know I don’t care about none of that shit!’ Lyn rages so gruffly that that we can hear her from inside the hall.
Crouching behind the buffet tables, we cower in hushed silence waiting for the moment Tom finally gets Lyn inside. Chris is next to me and I’m conscious of his arm brushing against mine.
‘Come on, Mum. It won’t take too long. Anyway, there’s free cake,’ Tom says. I can just picture him, linking arms with Lyn and clamping her to his side, shuffling her towards the entrance.
‘I got cake at home,’ Lyn huffs. ‘I don’t need no shoddy council cake. They’ve probably put something in it anyway, to get rid of us oldies.’
Marg starts giggling.
I shoot her a look. ‘Shhhh!’
She clamps her hand over her mouth and looks down at the floor. Chris’ lip twitches as if he’s suppressing a laugh.
‘Mum, come on,’ Tom groans, opening the door for her.
Lyn hobbles into sight and looks around the hall with a confused expression.
‘Now!’ I whisper and suddenly we all rise to our feet and holler, ‘SURPRISE!’
The confusion on Lyn’s face is instantly replaced by a huge smile. She grins from ear to ear, her face lighting up with excitement.
‘Council meeting!’ she tuts, giving Tom a clip round the ear before pulling him into a tight hug. Two seconds later, she’s ambushed by friends and family.
‘I can see Lyn’s a very loved lady,’ Chris says, smiling warmly as he watches everyone hugging and kissing her.
‘She is indeed!’ I look on affectionately, before reaching for a plate of cucumber sandwiches.
‘Want one?’
‘Thanks.’ Chris takes a sandwich, biting into it and nodding approvingly as he chews. ‘Very nice.’
‘Cheers.’ I pick one up and peel it apart. ‘I was worried the bread might go soggy so I patted the cucumber down with kitchen towel and then I lined each slice with butter, see?’ I hold it up to him.
‘Ah, right, yes. I see,’ Chris comments politely, popping the rest of his sandwich into his mouth.
I flatten the bread back down and take a bite, looking away. What am I doing? Trying to impress Chris with my culinary prowess just because he’s into baking? Why am I trying to impress him anyway? He’s with Laura, I remind myself.
‘Sophia! My love!’ Lyn comes up to me and pulls me into a hug. ‘I can’t believe you did all this!’
‘Well, it was Tom really,’ I reply modestly.
‘Nah, it was the pair of ya. Joint effort. Love, it means the world to me,’ she says, welling up. ‘I’m touched. Really, I am.’
‘It’s nothing, Lyn. You’re like family to me.’ Tears suddenly spring to my eyes.
‘We are family,’ Lyn nods to herself, wiping a tear from her eye. ‘We are.’
I blink back tears and pull her into another hug. I’ve known Lyn for four years now, and she’s always been there for me, providing a safe little enclave of love and support (and copious amounts of biscuits and cake). Whenever life has got confusing, whether it’s been because of big things like my terrible love life, missing my family or job dissatisfaction, or little things like crappy rainy days or PMT, Lyn has always been a source of love and support, cheering me up with her sweet smile and dry wit.
‘Look at us!’ Lyn comments, reaching for a napkin and mopping her eyes. ‘Right pair of sissies.’
She looks over my shoulder and spots Chris, who is politely giving us a moment, while checking out the buffet.
‘Is this your man, Sophia?’ she asks.
‘No! This is Chris! He’s a friend.’
Chris steps forward. ‘Nice to meet you!’ he says and attempts to give Lyn a polite kiss on the cheek, but she’s having none of it and pulls him into a hug.
‘A friend of Sophia’s is a friend of mine!’ she says and Chris laughs.
‘Happy birthday,’ Chris gushes. ‘You’re clearly a very popular lady!’
Lyn shrugs dramatically. ‘When you get to my age you pick up a few friends along the way!’
Chris smiles. ‘Well, I hope my 75th is as good as this!’
‘Thanks, love. But I’ve got my Soph to thank for that.’ She pulls me close.
‘Woop, woop! Let’s get this party started!!’ Tom comes hurtling over and tops up our drinks.
I give Lyn her birthday present – the embroidered cardigan.
‘Oh, Sophia, sweetheart. I love it!’ she says, holding it up to admire the stitching. ‘Better than this old thing,’ she adds, unzipping the quilted gilet she’s got on. ‘I’ll put it on right now!’
She takes off her gilet and hands it to Tom, who rolls his eyes indulgently before going over to hang it up with the other coats. Lyn pulls on the cardigan, which looks great on her.
‘How do I look?’ she asks, doing a little twirl.
Chris cracks up. ‘You look lovely, Lyn,’ he says.
Lyn beams at him. ‘Thanks darling,’ she replies as she does up a few buttons. ‘You know, Sophia told me she had a boyfriend and when I saw you, I just assumed, well, you know…’
Chris lets out an awkward laugh, while I shoot Lyn daggers, wishing she didn’t have such a non-existent brain-to-mouth filter.
‘Where is your boyfriend, Sophia?’ Lyn turns to me, with a sleuth-like expression on her face. I can feel Chris’ eyes on me too.
‘He’s, umm…’ I glance down at the floor. ‘He’s…’
‘Lyn! Lyn!’ A little boy, who I think is Alfie’s brother’s grandchild, comes running up to her. ‘Can we eat cake?’
‘Yes, love,’ Lyn says. ‘Of course, you can.’
‘But we need to light the candles first!’ Chris reminds her, turning to the cake where he retrieves a box of matches he’d thoughtfully stashed at the side of the plate.
‘Bit old for candles, aren’t I?’ Lyn objects as Tom sweeps in.
‘You’re never too old, Mum,’ he insists. ‘Light ‘em up, Chris,’ he adds with a wink.
Chris lights a match and holds the flickering flame to one of eight candles encircling the lettering on the cake.
‘I’m glad you didn’t try to fit seventy-five candles on there. Would’ve been a fire hazard!’ Lyn jokes.
‘Indeed!’ Chris laughs as he lights the next candle.
‘Chris made this cake, Lyn,’ I point out.
‘Really?’ Lyn looks taken aback.
‘His mum has a cake-making business. He knows all the tricks of the trade!’
‘Well, that’s quite something!’ Lyn remarks. ‘I thought you’d picked it up from a bakery!’
‘I know! So did I,’ Tom agrees.
‘Thanks guys,’ Chris mumbles, frowning with concentration as he holds the match to the final candle. The flame is getting precariously close to his fingers and the second it catches onto the wick, he yanks the match away and blows it out.
‘Close call!’ he says, discarding the shrivelled match. ‘My mum makes great cakes so maybe it runs in the family.’
‘It must do!’ Lyn insists. ‘Thanks love.’ Her eyes twinkle like the flickering candles. ‘That’s really kind of you, really kind.’
The little boy jumps excitedly, pulling on the hem of Lyn’s new cardigan.
‘Blow them out, blow them out!’ he cries.
‘Great idea!’ Tom agrees. ‘EVERYONE!’ he shouts, silencing the room before launching into a hearty rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’. We all join in and Lyn blushes ever so slightly, smiling ear to ear. Then she leans forward and blows out the candles, to a chorus of whoops and cheers.
Chris cuts the cake and then Tom and I help to plate it up, handing it out to the guests.
Eventually, I get to devour a slice myself. It’s insanely delicious, just as I knew it would be. After at least a dozen of Lyn’s friends have come up to compliment Chris on his amazing baking skills, which naturally Lyn’s already told them about, he and I wander off to the photo booth, leaving Lyn happily unwrapping presents. The photo booth is proving a huge hit, with a crowd of Lyn’s friends and family getting involved, from her older mates right down to the kids.
‘Let’s take a photo,’ I suggest to Chris as we approach.
‘Great idea!’
We wait while a few of Lyn’s mates don wigs and strike poses but then eventually, the trunk of dress up stuff is ours. I grab a blue wig.
‘Oh, nice choice,’ Chris says.
‘Yeah, for you.’ I hand it to him.
‘Really?’ He grins, raising an eyebrow, before taking the wig.
‘Well, in that case, I think it’s only appropriate for you to wear this,’ he insists, handing me a giant clip-on nose.
I roll my eyes. ‘Sexy!’
Chris rummages in the trunk. ‘And this,’ he adds, handing me a pink fedora.
‘Great!’ I shake my head. ‘But I think I need a wig too, I feel left out.’ I reach into the trunk and pull out a Rastafarian-style wig with dozens of beaded plaits. I put it on along with the nose and fedora.
‘Do I look hot?’ I ask, pouting at him as he adjusts his blue wig on his head.
‘Gorgeous,’ he declares, cracking up at the sight of me.
‘Here, I think these would improve your look.’ I hand him a gigantic pair of glasses and a pair of bright red lips on a stick.
‘You’re too kind,’ Chris jokes, taking them from me.
He puts the glasses on and he really does look ridiculous. I can’t help giggling. Tom was right, the photo booth was an excellent idea.
We arrange ourselves in front of the white backdrop and I hold out my phone to take a selfie.
‘Say cheese!’ I exclaim as we strike a pose. Chris widens his eyes in mock alarm, holding the lips over his own, while I pout hard, tilting my head back as if I’m trying to be cool. We stake a few more shots, pulling stupid faces, and then I grab the glasses from Chris and he tries out my fedora and we snap a couple more.
‘Let’s share the lips!’ I suggest on a whim.
‘What?’ Chris looks momentarily confused.
‘We can put them over both our mouths!’ I explain, tilting my head towards his and bringing my mouth precariously close to his. He shoots me a look – the questioning, hesitant, intense look – and I’m suddenly aware of how close we are, our lips just inches from each other’s. I feel his body against mine as we cosy up. I’m aware of his hand on my back. I take the lips from him and hold them up in front of ours, before taking a quick snap.
‘Haha! Great!’ I turn my camera to look at the photo, which shows us looking just as stupid as all the rest.
‘Awesome pic!’ I say, trying to sound casual.
Chris laughs as I scroll through them. ‘You’ll have to message them to me.’
‘Ladies and gentlemen!’ a booming voice intones. Chris and I look over to see Tom standing on the stage at the far end of the hall. ‘Thank you all for coming this evening. It’s wonderful to see you here; it means a lot. I think we can all agree that we’re among excellent company, and we have fantastic decorations, a wacky photo booth, a fabulous buffet courtesy of Sophia, and a wonderful cake by the charming Chris, which you should all be helping yourselves to by the way,’ Tom says, giving Chris a cheeky wink. Everyone turns around to look at him, causing him to smile shyly. ‘But,’ Tom continues, ‘I think it’s safe to say that this fantastic party wouldn’t be complete without karaoke.’
I let out a whoop and Tom grins.
‘So, without further ado, I’m going to kick things off with a rendition of Lucky Star by the one and only, Madonna! Take it away, Gerry.’ Tom glances over at Gerry, a friend from his work who’s agreed to help out with DJing and Gerry nods, pressing play on the karaoke machine. The synthetic-sounding ‘80s opening bars flow out of the speakers and with impressive, and no doubt alcohol-fuelled confidence, Tom belts out the song, dancing around and pointing into the crowd at Lyn when he sings the lyric: ‘You must be my lucky star, because you shine on me wherever you are.’ The whole thing is ridiculously camp and hilarious, but it’s certainly got the party started with everyone laughing and dancing about. I glance over at Lyn at one point and give her a knowing look; surely, she must be able to see that Tom’s gay, but she just smiles sweetly back.
Unexpectedly, Marg is quick to take to the stage after Tom, and does a surprisingly good rendition of Eternal Flame by The Bangles. The granddaughter of one of Lyn’s friends, a pretty girl of about sixteen or seventeen called Paige with long blonde, slightly ropey hair extensions, takes over, singing Poker Face by Lady Gaga. Then Lyn’s godson, a burly fireman called John who’s coat I took earlier belts out a rendition of Wonderwall by Oasis, and by this point everyone is pretty tipsy and practically queuing for a go. The dancefloor fills up and all the guests are busting out their best moves, with a few of Lyn’s elderly mates shimmying over to dance with Chris, who happily twirls them under his arm in mock ballroom fashion making them squeal with delight, while Tom and I dance nearby, cracking out ironically terrible moves with our glowsticks. Tom’s mirror ball and the cheap holographic lamps make the community centre feel like a proper cheesy disco and it’s impossible not to have fun.
The choice of karaoke anthems ranges from slow love ballads by Adele to classic nineties gems like Wannabe by the Spice Girls. After probably my fifth or maybe even sixth rather generous vodka and Fanta, I hop onto the stage with Tom and we do a drunken and incredibly over-the-top rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody, which everyone seems to love (at least, I think they do. Tom and I love it anyway.) Then someone starts chanting ‘Lyn, Lyn, Lyn’ and after a bit of encouragement, she finally takes to the stage and in between swigs of a can of Guinness, belts out I Will Survive by Gloria Gaynor.
Feeling a little breathless after mine and Tom’s sing-song, I head over to the buffet to top up my drink, while Tom dives right back into the dancefloor, gyrating with one hand on his hip and the other pointing into the crowd as he sings along to Lyn’s karaoke anthem, screeching, ‘I will survive, I will survive, as long as I know how to love, I know I’ll stay alive.’ As I pour more fizzy drink into my cup, I can’t help noting what an amazingly good night I’m having. I expected Lyn’s party to be good, but this is literally the best night I’ve had in ages. It’s weird to think that just a few days ago, I was running out of Windsor Gatehouse, fighting back tears. Now, my face is aching from smiling so much. I finish topping up my drink, take a sip and then reach to touch my face, massaging the sides of my mouth, which sting a little from all the smiling.
‘Great party,’ a voice says. I turn around to see Chris standing behind me, looking slightly flushed, with a garland of shimmery blue tinsel strung around his neck and a glowstick tucked above his ear.
‘What are you doing?’ he narrows his eyes at me and I realise my fingertips are still pressed into my cheeks.
‘Oh,’ I laugh, moving my hand away. ‘Nothing. Want a drink?’
‘No, it’s okay!’ Chris replies. ‘Maude’s been plying me with sherry so I’m a bit pissed as it is.’
‘Haha, join the club!’ I giggle.
‘Come on!’ Chris says, taking my hand and pulling me back towards the dance floor. ‘Let’s dance!’
I laugh as I follow him back into the thick of it and let him twirl me around, feeling daggers from Edna and Maude. Chris beams at me, his blue eyes bright and happy and I can’t help grinning back.
Suddenly, Tom comes bounding up to us and plants a huge kiss on my cheek, before leaning up to plant a smacker on Chris’ cheek as well.
‘You two!’ He exclaims. ‘You two are adorable. Aren’t they?’ he turns around to no one in particular. ‘You’re perfect! A perfect match!’
‘Shut up, Tom!’ I hiss, but he bounds off across the dance floor towards Gerry who’s still manning the karaoke machine, and cackles mischievously over his shoulder.
‘Sorry about that,’ I grumble to Chris, shyly meeting his gaze. I expect him to look awkward or put out, but he just smiles at me, with a warm, affectionate look, and seems totally unfazed.
‘Right, I think I’ve earnt this turn!’ Gerry jokes through the mike. ‘How about a slow number, eh? This is one of my favourite songs and I used to be on my school choir so, enjoy! Take it away, Tom,’ he says, and Tom, who is now stationed at the karaoke gear, presses ‘play’.
Gerry, who does have an incredibly soft singing voice, begins to croon along to Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton. People break off into couples and begin to slow dance.
‘Shall we get a drink?’ I suggest, looking towards the buffet.
Chris shakes his head. ‘Come here.’ He holds his hand out to me.
‘Oh, okay,’ I reply, laughing nervously. ‘Sure.’
The gentle music sweeps over me and I can’t bring myself to resist being swept up into his arms. Why would I? The beautiful melody, the twinkling lights, and Gerry’s smooth tones have a spell-binding effect, making Daniel and Laura and everything relating to real life feel remote and unreal. Chris takes my hand and slips his fingers through mine. He pulls me close, sweeping his other hand behind my back. He feels masculine and strong, showing another side to his character beyond the cake-baking library lover. I look at him, impressed, as I place my hand on his shoulder. Our bodies are touching, the sequins of my dress brushing against his cotton shirt. I can feel the heat of him. Without thinking, I rest my head against his chest and close my eyes. He lowers his head against the top of mine as the music engulfs us. And soon, I’m aware of nothing but Chris, his head on mine, the washing powder smell of his shirt, the warm safe feeling of having his arm on my back and it’s wonderful, just like Eric Clapton sang.
‘Sophia?’ Chris says softly into my ear. I lift my head and meet his gaze. His eyes are tender and intense. He reaches up to my face and sweeps a few mussed-up strands away from my temple, his fingertips brushing against my skin.
‘You know that thing Tom said?’ Chris gazes into my eyes. ‘About you being my perfect match…’
I nod, my heart thumping in my chest, sensing that we’re seconds away from our first kiss.
‘Well,’ he ventures. ‘I was thinking—’
‘Sophia?’ a hard voice punctures the moment. I turn around and find Daniel – Daniel! – standing behind me.
‘What’s going on here?’ he barks as I spring out of Chris’ arms.
‘Friend! He’s a friend. Dancing. We were just dancing,’ I blurt out.
Daniel shoots Chris daggers. ‘Dancing,’ he echoes through gritted teeth.
I look at Daniel, with his frowning expression, quaffed hair and ludicrously expensive clothes. Today, he’s sporting a leather jacket with far more zips than anyone could ever possibly need over a distressed black jumper (which is probably spun from lambs’ wool and has been lovingly ‘distressed’ by a team of dressmakers in a workshop in Milan) and a pair of artfully faded biker jeans. His outfit no doubt cost thousands, the kind of edgy designer stuff he orders from online boutiques and has delivered to ‘Daniel Hamilton-Jones, the Shard’. He looks so out of place here, in Lewisham Community Centre, next to Chris with his crumpled office shirt and flushed cheeks.
‘Errr… I’m going to, umm…’ Chris mutters, scurrying away, no doubt feeling unnerved under Daniel’s penetrating gaze.
‘What was that all about, Sophia? Is that why you haven’t called me? Because you’re with someone else?’ he balks.
‘What? No, don’t be silly!’ I say in a slightly too high-pitched voice when I’m suddenly distracted by Paige, her hair extensions wild from dancing, who is standing, gawping, a few feet behind Daniel, clearly believing that Robert Pattinson has just wandered into our little shindig.
‘Come on, let’s go somewhere quieter.’ I pull Daniel away from the dancefloor.
‘Fine by me,’ he replies, casting a snooty look at the stage, where one of Lyn’s friend’s – an overweight burly guy – breaks into a rendition of Whole Again by Atomic Kitten. I roll my eyes, hating him for his snobbery.
‘What are you doing here?’ I ask as we cross the hall. I cast my eyes around for Chris but I can’t see where he’s gone.
‘I needed to speak to you and since you’ve been ignoring my calls, I didn’t really have much choice but to come and talk to you myself,’ Daniel explains as we step out of the hall into the corridor, which is quiet and smells of the same cheap bleach the caretakers used to mop the floors with at my old school.
‘I went to your place, but you weren’t in, then I remembered about your party so I came here.’
‘Right,’ I murmur, looking down at my shoes. How could Daniel have forgotten about Lyn’s party when I’ve been banging on about it pretty much every day since I met him?
‘It’s quite the, err… celebration.’ Daniel sneers, making ‘celebration’ sound like the most derogatory word imaginable.
‘Yes, it is a celebration, Daniel,’ I assert. ‘A bloody great one, actually.’
Daniel fixes me with a pointed stare. ‘Well yes, I can see you were having a great time.’
‘Drop it, Daniel,’ I sigh.
‘It’s pretty difficult not to be annoyed, when you don’t return my calls for days and then the next moment I see you, you’re slow dancing with another guy!’
I feel my stomach lurch slightly. As much as I dislike Daniel right now, he does kind of have a point. I have been pretty much blotting out his existence over the past few days and if he’d arrived a minute later tonight, Chris and I would probably have been kissing. That’s not exactly great behaviour since we haven’t officially broken up, but regardless, I still can’t help thinking about the way Chris was looking at me, how it felt when his fingers brushed my hair aside, that thing he’d been saying about Tom’s comment that we were a ‘perfect match’. Surely, he was just about to admit his feelings for me? We were on the cusp of something, things were just about to change between us, and then Daniel had to come along and ruin everything.
I take a deep breath and force myself to have this conversation.
‘I’m sorry, I should have called,’ I admit in a quiet voice. ‘But I felt really uncomfortable after what Cleo said. I thought we had something Daniel. I was practically living with you but Cleo just made me feel like I was one of many. Yet another Cinderella-type girl on your dating conveyor belt. It was shameful.’ Suddenly I find myself welling up. It’s as if all the shame and hurt I’ve been pushing down over the past few days has finally flooded to the surface and I can’t even bring myself to meet his gaze.
‘Sophia…’ Daniel says in a soft, sympathetic voice. I blink and two hot tears fall down my cheeks.
‘Sophia, I’m sorry.’
I glance up to see he’s no longer frowning and now looks genuinely contrite. He takes a step closer and he wipes a tear from my cheek with his thumb. I look into his eyes, those gorgeous piercing blue eyes that used to make me want to reach for a camera I found them so beautiful, but now I feel nothing. Nothing but shame. Mistaking my eye contact for affection, Daniel lowers his lips towards mine, his soft lips landing on my unmoving mouth.
A burst of music floods out of the community hall and as the door swings open, I pull away from Daniel’s kiss to see Chris, standing there, frozen and awkward, a shocked and hurt expression on his face.
‘Sorry, I was just…’ he trails off and dashes back into the hall.
‘What’s with that guy?’ Daniel narrows his eyes as the hall doors swing shut.
Damn it! I want to run after Chris, but Daniel is still holding me, expecting to kiss and make up. I can’t just hurry after him, especially since I’ve already made out that nothing’s going on between us. But I am desperate to. I want to explain everything: the misguided reasons I went for Daniel, how much I regret not going on a second date and how stupid I feel for believing that love was something I needed to feel at first sight. I want to tell him how adorable I’ve come to find the awkward bumbling way he blurts out food facts, how much I love his habit of carrying around random library books every day and how much I appreciate his kind, giving nature but I can’t. I can’t say any of those things because I’ve got Daniel in front of me. Gorgeous, rich, empty Daniel.
‘Come on, let’s get out of here,’ Daniel says.
‘What?’ I look at him, perplexed.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ he repeats. ‘We have a lot of things we need to talk about,’ he says in a stern tone, which reminds me of Tom’s headteacher voice. ‘I’ve booked us a table at Avenue 8. It’s a new champagne bar in Liverpool Street. It’ll be quiet, we can talk there. Come on.’
Daniel edges down the hallway while I watch him, disbelieving.
‘Wait.’ He looks me up and down. ‘Do you, err, have anything else to wear?’
I glance down at my sparkly dress and ballet shoes, which are sticky with spilt Fanta.
‘It’s just, that’s a bit…’ Daniel trails off.
A fuse of pent up anger that’s been simmering away inside me ever since my conversation with Cleo blows up, a swell rising in my chest.
‘It’s a bit what, Daniel? Spit it out. A bit trashy? A bit tacky? A bit cheap?’
Daniel sighs.
‘Well guess what, Daniel? I am a bit trashy. I am a bit tacky and do you know what? I don’t care! I don’t want to hang out in some poncey champagne bar where I can’t relax because everyone’s so bloody stuck-up and pretentious. And I don’t want to put on some stupid overpriced dress that isn’t me, just to please you. I want to hang out here. I want to drink Fanta and wear sequins and sing karaoke and actually have fun,’ I tell him.
Daniel’s mouth gapes open. ‘Fine. So, you don’t want to talk about our relationship then, like you promised?’
‘I said I’d call you,’ I remind him. ‘We would have talked about our relationship, but you just had to show up here instead.’
‘The thing is, Sophia, I don’t think you would have called, would you?’ He gives me with a penetrating look and I cast my eyes sheepishly down at the ground.
‘And to be perfectly honest,’ Daniel continues, ‘I’m getting a bit sick of all this,’ he says, a hard edge to his voice.
‘Sick of what?’
‘Sick of you ignoring my calls. Sick of you putting everyone else before me. You’re quite happy to make a fuss over Lyn, but what about me?’
‘Are you serious?’ I gawp.
‘Yes,’ Daniel insists. ‘You spend all this time on Lyn, but what about me?’
I look at him, aghast. ‘Are you seriously telling me you’re jealous that I organised a birthday party for my elderly neighbour?’
‘I’m not jealous,’ Daniel huffs. ‘But I just think you should think about me sometimes too. Now are you coming to Avenue 8 or not?’
‘No!’ I scoff. ‘Of course, I’m not coming to Avenue 8!’
‘What do you mean you’re not coming?’ Daniel snaps. ‘We have a lot to talk about.’
‘Daniel, I’ve been planning this party for weeks. I’m not just leaving!’ I shake my head in disbelief.
‘See?’ Daniel snarls, his eyes wide with exasperation. ‘This is what I’m talking about. You’re putting Lyn before me.’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ I snap, turning to head back to the party but Daniel grabs my arm.
‘You said we were going to talk.’
‘Yeah but I’m not leaving!’ I shake my arm free. ‘Look, if really you want, you can stay here and we’ll talk,’ I suggest, although the second the words are out of my mouth, I realise I don’t actually want him to. I want to go and find Chris. I want to dance and have fun with him and Lyn and Tom, without Daniel looking down his nose at us.
‘I’m not staying!’ Daniel sneers again, as if the suggestion’s completely absurd.
‘Why not?’
‘Because…’ He squirms, and of course, it’s because he thinks he’s too good for Lyn’s party. He thinks he’s too good to hang out at a community centre on a Friday night doing karaoke.
‘Because this is taking the pauper fetish a bit too far, right? You’re willing to find me, like a little diamond in the rough, but only if you can take me out of the rough? You’re not actually willing to become part of my world.’
Daniel sighs loudly. ‘It’s not like that.’
‘It is like that though, isn’t Daniel? Or should I call you Prince Charming? I’m just yet another one of your broke girls. You thought you could just take me, whisk me out of Lewisham and mould me into the girlfriend you wanted me to be,’ I rant.
I want him to deny what I’ve said, or at least explain it, but he simply shifts uncomfortably and looks down at the floor.
‘Daniel?’ I venture in a small voice.
He looks up at me and guilt passes over his features like a shadow.
‘I said I’m sorry.’
I feel a stab of mortification and suddenly, I feel stone cold sober.
‘I can’t believe you.’ I gulp. ‘Why would you do that?’
Daniel looks down to the floor again, but doesn’t say anything.
‘Daniel, why? That’s so messed up!’
He glances up at me, his eyes dark and cold.
‘I suppose…’ He frowns, as if searching for the right words. ‘I suppose my life just gets a bit boring sometimes. I know I’m lucky and I live a charmed life, but I’m just so used to everything – the nice restaurants, the exclusive clubs, my flat. And sometimes, I feel a bit lost, as if I’m losing interest in it all, but then you come along and you get so excited and it’s just infectious and then I get excited by it all again, too.’
I think back to what Cleo said about Daniel wanting to see the world ‘through my eyes’. She was right.
‘And also,’ Daniel continues. ‘You have no idea how haughty and high-maintenance some of the girls in my circles are. They can be so demanding and uptight, girls like you are just more easy-going,’ he explains, as if to try to make me feel better.
I look into his eyes, and for the first time, I don’t see them as striking and piercing, they’re just cold. I realise that Daniel hasn’t been dating me because he loves my personality or feels crazy about me, he’s simply liked the fact that I’m low-maintenance and I’ve been so awestruck by his lifestyle that I’ve gone along with pretty much everything. Every restaurant we’ve eaten at has been his choice, every club we’ve gone to has been somewhere he’s wanted to go, and even little things like the shows we watched on TV were always the ones he wanted to watch.
‘Easy-going or easier to control?’ I ask in a flat voice, thinking back to Kate’s party. No wonder he didn’t want to go and ended up leaving so early. I was meant to be his awe-struck easy-going broke ass girlfriend but for once, I was calling the shots and he didn’t like it.
‘What?’ Daniel raises an eyebrow. ‘I don’t know about that, Sophia,’ he says although he sounds a little unsure, as if my words might have struck a chord.
I look away.
A shrill excited peel of laughter erupts from inside the party, making Daniel flinch.
‘Come on, can we please just go and sort this out somewhere quieter.’ He looks towards the exit.
‘No, Daniel,’ I sigh. ‘I’m staying here. It’s Lyn’s party and I’m not just going to abandon it.’
Daniel exhales, shaking his head. ‘Seriously?’
‘Yes.’
‘Right.’ His jaw tightens and his eyes grow colder. ‘Well, do you know what, Sophia?’ He raises an eyebrow at me, fixing me with a serious look. ‘If you don’t come with me, then I think it’s best if we just end things right here, right now.’
A disbelieving laugh spills from my lips.
‘Do you honestly think I care? Do you honestly think I want to go with you? I’m not just going to be your adoring low-maintenance girlfriend, clinging to your arm, doing whatever you want. Go to your champagne bar, Daniel! I don’t care!’ I rant. I’m full of rage, but tears of frustration fill my eyes.
The door of the community hall swings open and I look over to see Lyn and Tom, the smiles falling off their faces at the sight of me. Tom steps forward.
‘Sophia, what’s wrong?’ he coos as he pulls me into a hug. I bury my head into his bobbling fleece. He must have been about to pop outside for a fag with Lyn, since I know he’s partial to one after a few drinks.
‘Nothing, it’s fine,’ I sob, overwhelmed. Tom rubs my back and Lyn appears by my side, still wearing her embroidered cardigan. She gives my arm a squeeze.
‘Oh, love,’ she says. ‘Don’t cry.’
‘I’m fine. I’m okay,’ I insist, except every time I wipe the tears from my eyes, they just refill. I realise I’m not fine. I’m not okay. I’m embarrassed and ashamed. Ever since Cleo said those horrible things about Daniel, part of me was hoping they weren’t true. A small part of me was still clinging to the possibility that Daniel had liked me for me and that there had been some genuine warmth and meaning to our relationship, even if we were unlikely to last, but now it just feels as though the whole thing was a sham. He was just using me to feel better about his life, leading me on without ever having cared for me at all.
‘Oh, Sophia. I’ll go and get you a tissue, love. One second,’ Lyn says as she heads off to the toilets.
Tom holds me tighter and continues rubbing my back.
‘I think you’d better go,’ he says to Daniel. I turn my head to look at him, standing there, uncomfortable and out of place.
‘He’s right. You should go,’ I echo.
‘Okay,’ Daniel relents. ‘I’m sorry,’ he mutters as he turns to leave.
I watch as he paces down the corridor and walks out, listening to the front door shutting behind him. I’m reminded of standing at the top of the stairs outside the flat at Kate’s party, listening to the sound of the front door closing echoing up the staircase. I was a fool to think Daniel was ever truly going to become part of my life.
‘Where’s Chris?’ I ask, as Lyn returns with a tissue and hands it to me, a sad, sympathetic expression on her face.
‘He had to go, Soph,’ Tom says as I dab my eyes. ‘He seemed a bit flustered. Just got his coat and left.’
‘What? When?’
‘About five minutes ago,’ Lyn comments.
‘But I was standing right here, he came out but then he went back to the party.’
Tom shrugs. ‘Maybe he went out the stage door. He said to say goodbye to you. Seemed in a hurry to leave.’
‘Oh, right,’ I murmur, blowing my nose. Great, he must have gone after seeing me and Daniel ‘kiss’. He probably thinks I was leading him on, slow dancing and sharing a moment, minutes before running off to make out with Daniel. My heart sinks. And now he’s gone and I can’t even explain myself.
‘He’s a lovely lad,’ Lyn comments, wistfully.
‘Yeah, he is,’ I agree. ‘He really is.’