Page 42 of The Last Train Home
‘I’m sorry,’ he says again. ‘Please forgive me for making you feel so shit – for all of it. Can we go back to what we were before?’
‘We weren’t anything before,’ I say and, as cruel as it sounds, it’s the truth. ‘Not really.’
Tom looks a bit taken aback. ‘Can we start again then?’ he asks. ‘Please?’
‘What’s the point?’ I ask him. ‘Why are we forcing this friendship?’
‘Because …’ He grapples for something. ‘We’re good as friends, and I would rather have you in my life than not in it. We had fun together, until I ruined things.’
‘True,’ I confirm.
‘Please,’ he says. ‘You’ve moved on with Sean. I’ve got Samantha, and a baby on the way. We met each other in the most awful of circumstances, but that’s got to mean something, hasn’t it? That connection, we must have been thrown together like that for a reason. I don’t know if you feel that, but I do. We haven’t got to see each other loads, unless you want to. But when someone comes into your life who you really get on with, why wouldn’t you want to keep them as a friend?’
He puts forward a good argument. I’m not committing to anything, but the concept of being able to even think about Tom without wanting to stick pins in his eyes might be good for my mental health. And actually I sort of feel a bit sorry for him, now I know what’s been going on this whole time. And, annoyingly, he is right. When you meet someone like that and you connect, throwing them to the wolves in their hour of darkness is not the right reaction.
‘Start again?’ he suggests.
I nod, ever so gently, so that I’m not sure whether I’ve actually done it or not. He’s obviously been waiting for any kind of sign, and his shoulders relax for the first time since we met up tonight.
‘Great,’ he says with obvious relief. And then he leans over the table, extends his hand. ‘Hi,’ he says. A small smile edges its way onto his lips. ‘I’m Tom.’
I inhale and can’t stop a smile working its way onto my face. I extend my hand. ‘You’re such a dick,’ I mutter, and he tells me he knows this, but his hand is still out. And then I play along, reach out and take his hand. ‘Hi, Tom,’ I say with a reluctant sigh. ‘I’m Abbie.’
Sean stands at his kitchen island in his flat in Highgate, chopping vegetables, when I tell him later that week how Tom and I really met. The awful thing is that because Tom never told Sean how he and I met, and because I wanted to find out why Tom never told people (although I’ve still not got to the bottom of that),I’dalso never told Sean that I was on the derailed train.
It’s all coming out of my mouth in a garbled mess, concluding with the words, ‘And I didn’t tell you when we started dating because I thought youknew.’
He puts the knife down and rubs his forehead. ‘I didn’t,’ he says. ‘I had no idea.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I say. I feel I’ve duped him in some way.
‘Don’t be sorry,’ he says. He’s stunned, I can see that. ‘I had no idea,’ he repeats again. We stand in silence, Sean giving me such a sympathetic expression.
‘But nothing happened to me,’ I say. ‘Not really. I got hurt. I passed out. Tom carried me off the train. It’s Tom who saw everything. Tom who lived through the horror of it all. I know he saw some horrible things, only he won’t say what. He walked me away from all of that and then managed to take care of me. All night long.’
Sean speaks. ‘Tom carried you off the train,’ he repeats.
‘Yes.’
He’s looking at me differently. ‘That’s huge,’ he says. ‘He saved your life.’
‘Tom assures me, in no uncertain terms, that he didn’t save my life, that I’d have been fine sitting in a pile of glass, waiting for the emergency services.’
‘And now he’s a modest kind of hero,’ Sean jokes. ‘My absolute favourite.’
‘Are you upset?’ I ask.
‘Of course I’m not upset,’ he says soothingly. ‘He saved your life. And now you’re with me, I should thank him, really.’
I’m not too sure Tom would actually like that, although I’m going to work that one out later.
I can see Sean thinking. He picks up the knife and starts cutting a cucumber for the salad we’re making. I move round the island, stand next to him, take another knife from the holder and a pile of tomatoes and start chopping them. This silence is odd.
He puts the knife down and turns to me. ‘Were you two really just friends?’
I should have seen this coming. Only I didn’t. I didn’t see it coming at all and I’m paralysed suddenly. I love Sean. Sean loves me. I’m not sure I really subscribe to the theory ofwhat he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. What happened – or didn’t happen – between Tom and me has no bearing on what’s going on between Sean and me.
‘It’s complicated,’ I say.
