Page 33 of The Last Train Home
‘How does this work then?’ Sean asks me when he’s finished his dizzying explanation about mergers and acquisitions.
‘How does what work?’ I say, scooping up two mini fish-and-chip canapés presented in tiny sheets of newspaper. I hand him one.
‘Thanks,’ he says and starts on one of the two chips inside. ‘So you and Tom meet on the Tube, you hang out a bit, youmanage to throw each other firmly into the friend zone and then what … ?’
I want to tell him we’re not even friends any more. In a matter of weeks I met a man, became his friend, I nearly became something else entirely too, although I’m not sure what. What would have happened if we’d kept going? Would we be together now? Would I be out on a date with Tomright nowinstead of with Sean? I’ll never know.
‘What has he said?’ I ask tentatively.
‘That you don’t really hang out any more.’
OK, good. Tom’s been vague with Sean and I can work with this. I like Sean. I’m not sure I want to tell himexactlywhat happened between us, especially as it’s so humiliating. But I might open up a little bit to him. ‘I don’t really think we’re friends any more,’ I say. ‘Actually, I think it’s the fastest I’ve made and lost a friend.’ And then … Hang on. ‘He said we met on the Tube?’ I ask slowly.
Sean nods, puts the world’s smallest fish goujon into his mouth.
‘On the Tube?’ I ask again and then look at Sean for more information. ‘Nothing else? No sort of … other information?’
‘No,’ he looks puzzled.
I start on my own mini fish-and-chips, chewing slowly. Tom hasn’t told him. Tom hasn’t told his workmate that he was on the Tube derailment. He hasn’t told Sean he pulled me from the wreckage. He hasn’t told him any of it. I don’t know what to make of this.Whyhasn’t he told him? Does anyone else at his work know about that day?
Sean’s looking for more information, so I nod. ‘That’s about it, yeah. Shame, really,’ I say far too casually.
‘He’s been a bit odd for a while,’ Sean reiterates. ‘Especially more recently. There’s something going on with him and he won’t say what. I thought you might know.’
I’m not going to put Sean straight about how we met. If Tom hasn’t done it, then there’s a reason. What else could be going on with him?
I don’t want to talk about him any more, it’s only going to ruin the night, and up until now I was having a really nice time with Sean. I don’t need to tell him what happened. But I do want to know why Tom’s keeping it all secret.
Chapter 22
Abbie
1 January 2006
Goodbye, 2005. That was one of the worst and best years of my life. I don’t want to reflect too long on last autumn, but I think it’s fair to say that day in October almost overshadowed everything else.
But what came after it … a promotion, a new flat, a new man. The last few weeks of December had been dizzying.
Sean pops the cork on a bottle of pink champagne and we stand on the balcony of our hotel suite near Trafalgar Square, which he’s hired so we can watch the fireworks explode across the London skyline. The colours dot the sky in effervescent shards of neon and gold and I pull my coat around me a bit more, even though my bloodstream is warmed from all the delicious champagne Sean’s been plying me with. We’ve only been dating for about four weeks, but he’s sweet, kind, easy to be with. I really like him.
‘Anyone would think you’re trying to get me drunk?’ I tease as he kisses my neck. I’m not sure he’s watching the fireworks with the same level of enthusiasm as me.
‘Me? No. No way. Perfect gentleman,’ he says, which he is.
‘They only last a short while,’ I say, enjoying the feeling of him nestling into me. ‘Didn’t you spend a fortune on this suite so we could watch the fireworks?’ I don’t wait for an answer. ‘So watch them,’ I giggle as he carries on nuzzling me. I point to the sky, as if he can’t see where the fireworks are.
‘I spent a fortune on the suite,’ he clarifies, lifting his head to watch the sky. ‘So we could have a night away together, in style, alone for once, without your flatmate sleeping in the next room at yours, or my flatmate in the next room at mine.’
There’s a tiny gap between us and I lean back against him, closing the distance. ‘Sean,’ I sigh happily.
‘Mmm,’ he says as we watch blue-and-pink sparkles dot the sky. He’s not really expecting me to speak. I’m content, safe, happy. I’m actually happy. Sean is perfect – my safe harbour.
He makes so much time for me and makes plans to do ‘stuff’: a concert booking here, a restaurant booking there. We went ice-skating at Somerset House a few days ago, in that down-period between Christmas and New Year when nothing interesting ever happens. But this year it did. He told me he wanted me to be his girlfriend while he was trying to hold me up, and I felt my breath catch in my throat.
‘None of thisjust-seeing-each-otherbollocks,’ he’d said. I wondered if it might be a bit too soon, but we’ve seen so much of each other over recent weeks that I’ve lost count of how many proper dates we’ve been on.
We were both laughing so hard because I was skidding around on the blades that I didn’t hear him at first and asked him to repeat himself. At first it stunned me so much I didn’t know what to say. I let down my guard with Tom. I put it back up with Sean and, despite wanting to say yes, Ijust … couldn’t. Tom’s made me fear rejection; it was almost as if I didn’t trust Sean’s declaration of commitment.
