Page 58 of The Last Train Home
‘Monday.’
‘Monday? You’re away for three nights?’
‘Yes, it’s a work event.’
‘On a weekend? Why does this stuff keep falling on a weekend? Don’t they know you’ve got a family?’
‘Tom, I’m in the running for partner and I need to be present. I keep reminding you ofthistoo. I’m back in the office on Monday morning, and I’m home Monday evening. If we want this nice life and this nice new house, you need to suck it up. We need all the money we can get.’
Teddy’s at nursery and he’s being kicked out because we didn’t fill in a form. His parents are rowing about collecting him. I’m mortgaged up to my eyeballs, and my fiancée is nowhere to be seen at weekends these days. Even when she’s at home, she’s always working in her office. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.
‘Fine,’ I say and because I’m so bloody angry, I hang up without saying goodbye.
I call the nursery back. ‘Hi. I’m leaving right now. I’m on my way.’
Chapter 40
Abbie
Sean and his mates are in the middle of a drinking game. I’m not sure if he’s aware that he’s managed to successfully exclude half the party by doing this. There are about thirty people here on the roof of Coq d’Argent. It’s one of my favourite bars in the City because it sits on top of Poultry, in a building that houses a few of my go-to high-street fashion shops. It has a lovely beach-club vibe in summer, with white umbrellas, good cocktails and rooftop views down towards the Bank of England. Right now, Sean has organised bottles of Prosecco to be dotted around our area, and people are chuffed to bits there’s free booze available.
The sun is beating down. We’ve managed to successfully choose a day without rain. I really didn’t want to go inside to have the party or to have to huddle under umbrellas. Everything is perfect.
This feels like a final fling, a last hurrah. I don’t know when I’ll be back here again, with any of these people. Natasha and Will are cosied up in the corner, chatting to my parents.
Gary’s pretending he won’t miss me but he’s sidled over to me a few times this evening and enveloped me ina bear hug, telling me how the person replacing me isn’t as much fun as me, or checking if my drink needs topping up, or generally finding a reason to keep me talking to him, much to the amusement of his new girlfriend. And all my workmates have shuffled down here to bid me farewell, even if it’s just for a quick one before they head home for the weekend.
I’ve dressed up for the occasion, wearing a leather miniskirt and a white peasant blouse. Sean looks up and gives me appreciative glances, but he’s doing something that involves repeating a sequence of numbers back and if he gets it wrong, he has to down a shot. For a guy who works with numbers all day long, he’s getting quite a lot of these wrong. I wave at him from time to time as he looks up and around, checking if anyone he knows has entered our area.
I choose a quiet moment to readjust my sunglasses, take a long drink of cold water and pull out my phone to check if people are running late or can’t find it and need directing towards the lifts, which are well hidden.
On my phone is a message. I click it open:Abbie, I’m so sorry. I can’t come. Samantha’s away and I’m stuck at home with Teddy. I hope you have a lovely party. Tom x
I stare at his message for what feels like ages. Samantha’s away? He must have known that before now. Why has he left it until the middle of our party to message me this? He clearly doesn’t want to come. He’s bottled it and has made up the most transparent excuse I’ve ever heard.
I take a sip of my cocktail and slam it down so hard that most of the pink liquid inside slops over the top and onto my hand. I wipe my sticky hand on a napkin. What is wrong with him? He makes all this effort to try to be in my lifeand then decides it’s not worth it, after all. Who plays a game like that? It’s just cruel. I want to tell him this and I’m halfway through typing back an angry rant about how he promised he’d come, when a friend of mine I used to work with enters and I’m forced to put my phone away and say hi, make polite conversation and answer questions about my new life in Singapore.
All the answers I give are speculative – I have no idea really what’s in store. I haven’t found a job yet and have agreed to take on some freelance work. Most of the jobs I looked at wanted someone to start within four weeks, and Sean and I didn’t know when his start date was going to be. It looks like I’ll be at a loose end for the first few weeks. I suppose that time will be good to settle into our new apartment, but I’ve never been unemployed. It frightens me, even though Sean’s new salary is more than enough for both of us. I’m just not used to the uncertainty.
By 11 p.m. our friends and family are filtering out. I’ve hugged my parents goodbye and I’m going to spend my last night with them tomorrow. They’re taking us to the airport on Sunday, so I wave them off as they head towards the lifts. I won’t see Sean’s parents again before we fly, so we hug for ages and then I watch his mum hold him, brushing his hair back from his forehead and then give me a talking-to about looking after him. Sean and I share an amused look throughout.
Natasha gives me a quick wave and heads off with Will, saying she’ll see me at home when I’m finished here. I’m staying in our flat tonight for the last time. And then it won’t beourflat any more, because I won’t live there. This is starting to feel very real now. Before, I was swept along in the planningstage, but now the party’s over there’s no planning to do, just tickets to print and flights to board. It’s happening. I’m really leaving.
Sean wanders over, pulls me towards him. ‘That’s that, then,’ he says. ‘Nothing left to do now except board that plane.’
‘I’m sure we can manage that,’ I say. ‘This is really, really happening.’
‘It really, really is. You OK?’
‘Yes. Are you?’
‘Of course. I’m excited,’ he says.
‘Me too.’ I’m something like excited. I think I’m actually quite scared. This is huge.
‘Some of us are going on to a club. You coming?’
‘No thanks. I think I’m going to wander down to the river for a bit, take in the view one last time. Do you want to come with me?’
