She had not heard from him in a week but he was everywhere. On a train
to Blackpool, Heather spotted him in the next carriage, sat next to a brunette.
He’d always said he preferred brunettes. They were sat with their backs to her
and she could see the curls in his hair, right at the top of his neck, that she had
played with all those times.
His head arched towards the brunette and Heather saw a flash of his
cheek. That was his cheek right? The same olive skin, the same indentation in
line with his lips, those lips. Heather gripped her seat in anger. He hadn’t bothered to call her
but he could hang out with this girl, talk to her, make her laugh? He was
wearing a coat that she’d never seen before. So he’s gone shopping too, plenty of
time for that, it seemed. The pain in her chest grew deeper as the curls shifted, the lips motioned to hers, and he leaned in for a kiss. .
But that profile was not his. No, there was something wrong about
his smile afterwards. His mole, the one which she was sure was the shape of a heart, her heart, was not where it should be.
It
was not him. And never would be, no matter how many times Heather tried to
mould the picture of Ben in her head to the boy who seemed so very close.
This was a torture that she went through repeatedly. She saw him over
six times that day and heard the word 'Greece' at least a dozen. It was like
fate was screwing with her head.
‘Cheers fate, give us a break will ya?’ she muttered.
'Er, hello to Heather?! For fuck's sake stop day dreaming. Have you
listened to anything I’ve just said?'
The eloquent sounds of Alice hit Heather's brain with the subtlety of a mnemonic drill. Heather groaned as they drove past another 'Discover the hidden treasures of Greece'
billboard.
'Y’know you've turned into a right sap since Ben.' Alice continued,
undeterred by Heather’s sudden fascination with the ends of her hair, zips on
her clothes, anything that was not Alice’s judgemental gaze.
Her friend turned to her. 'Heather seriously, drop it. He's a loser, a fit loser, but still a loser. He wasn't even that interesting when you were actually talking to him.
You were always saying how he didn't get your jokes. But I suppose he's only
human'
Heather received a, slightly too hard, dig in the ribs. She moaned, 'is
there a point to your bullying, because you do realise I could wang you like a
welly if I so desired, Al.'
Her 4’10 friend did not care for threats over her size, and continued
with her jack-russel-like bark.
'All I'm saying is that God, fate,
Scientology alien, Allah, whoever the fuck brought you two together may have just got it
wrong.'
'Don't start the lectu...'
'Just because you met and talked about books all night does not make you soul mates. I mean, just because he liked the same old boring shit that you like does not mean that
you are meant for one another.'
Heather returned to the window. 'I have to believe it is for some
reason, Al, I don't mean to sound like a creepy spinster from a Mariane Keyes’
novel, but surely this, us, what we had, is more than the usual, well,' Heather winced at the phrase, 'holiday
fling? It has to be.'
'But maybe not. Maybe you were drunk, maybe it was a hot summer's evening
and you’d had too much Sangria’
‘Sangria’s Spanish, Al’
‘Tequilia’
‘Mexican….’
‘Whatever. Maybe it was just the heat of the moment. Maybe it was to
stop you nausing over Dave. Maybe it was to just break you two apart.’
Heather winced. Dave, she had not even thought about him in such a long
time. The guilt washed over her, permeating her skin and forcing her to flush.
Alice continued. ‘I mean, let's
face it, you've been with tons of people...'
'....and? Where the hell is this going now?'
Alice grabbed her by the hand, 'and, Honey you weren't right about
any of them. They all started off very sweet and full of potential but when it comes down to it, they were all wankers. So either you are just chronically awful at
choosing men...'
'LOTS of men, it seems'
'Or' Alice interjected, 'or, you have just done the ground work and have
to be patient now'
'So….what you’re saying is being a slag is the same as building the
foundations of a house?'
'Even though you are being sarcastic here Heather, I think, I think
that's exactly what I mean.'
Heather returned to the window, just as the train slowed into a village
and a pub called 'Ben’s Bar' flashed into her vision. 'Such bullshit' she
whispered.
Alice pulled at Heather’s anorak and called her attention. 'My dear
darling screwed up slut of a best friend. Like that song, y'know the one, you just have to wait patiently for love, some day it will surely
come.'
Alice began a power ballad rendition of 'that song' for the three seconds it took for Heather to reach out and press her hand firmly against her friend's gaping mouth.
'Ok, no more.' She said. 'I promise, no more Ben. No more waiting for messages, no more moping.'
'Thank all that's holy! Yo everyone, Hev's stopped being boring!
It's a fucking miracle!'
The quiet carriage filled with elderly couples and families glared at
Alice’s outburst. She had raised her pale arms above her head, like she was expecting an encore and
a round of applause.
‘It was only to stop you bloody singing’. Heather snapped, but her face soon
echoed the infectious smile of her friend’s as the train lunged forward from
the station. ‘Now give me a drink. I
think I’ll need it for ‘I love Lance and even though he's prematurely bald and watches too much porn, I'll still marry him’ time tonight.’
Heather took the glass offered to her from their train picnic and raised it, ‘to Lance and Lauren, I suppose’, she exclaimed, half-heartedly.
Alice raised hers to meet: ‘to being single and hanging around with
pathetic, needy, hopelessly in love people all weekend’
‘Hear, hear.’ The clink joined the sound of whimpering babies and old, marginally
deaf couples shouting names of sandwiches to each other in the carriage.
The wine slipped down her throat easily and a smile pasted itself on Heather's face as she listened to more of Alice's stories. But what she couldn't figure out, no matter how hard she tried, was why the pit of her stomach had turned so very cold.
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