The One Who's Not the One: A feel-good, laugh-out-loud romantic comedy Page 3

  ‘Not until Arnold’s in bed,’ Kelly said.

  ‘What? Why? Have you got gin then? He’ll think it’s pop.’

  Kelly glanced back over her shoulder to make sure her son was still in the garden. ‘He had to do a thing at school – like a picnic alphabet thing, right? He had to write and draw something for every letter of the alphabet. And do you know what he put for V?’

  ‘Vagina?’

  ‘Worse. Vodka.’

  Cat snorted with laughter. ‘Is that worse? I don’t know.’

  ‘Shut up. So I’ve stopped drinking in front of him. It’s good for me anyway.’

  ‘It’s not good for me though. Why can’t I drink? I don’t mind his teacher thinking I’m a lush.’

  ‘He’s going to bed in about two hours. You can hang on till then.’

  ‘Can I though?’ Cat said.

  While Kelly dished out Arnold’s tea and called him in from the garden, Cat went to get her bag from the hall and retrieved the Standard. By the time she’d got to the shop, she’d regretted leaving it on the bench and picked up her own copy.

  ‘Stop kicking,’ Kelly said to Arnold as Cat walked back in.

  ‘I wasn’t,’ Arnold mumbled.

  Cat clambered up onto one of the bar stools and immediately drummed her feet against the side of the breakfast bar.

  ‘Don’t encourage him!’ Kelly said. ‘Let’s see then.’

  She flicked through the paper until she got to the Culture page. Cat studied her face as she read the short piece and then stared at the photo.

  ‘He looks good,’ she said eventually.

  ‘I know,’ Cat agreed.

  ‘Did you google him?’

  ‘Nah.’

  Cat swiped another Wotsit. And she hadn’t. She had looked him up on Facebook, however, while she’d been waiting for Kelly to turn up to collect her. But there hadn’t been much to see there; his account was pretty locked down. Just the updated cover photos and profile pics, and there was nothing interesting there.

  ‘Well done,’ Kelly said.

  ‘Did you see what his show’s called?’ Cat asked. It had been going round and round her head.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I think it’s an expression.’

  ‘It is, yeah. But it’s an expression with my name in it.’

  Kelly sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. As far as Cat was aware, it was her only bad habit. And it made her look like a toddler. Cat loved it.

  ‘I just don’t think—’ Kelly started.

  ‘I know, I know.’

  ‘It’s been five years. Like, if he—’

  ‘I mean, Taylor Swift’s still writing songs about Harry Styles,’ Cat said. ‘Apparently. And that must be five years. And me and Sam were together longer than them. If they were even together in the first place. I saw this thing online about how it was a PR relationsh—’

  ‘You can’t go and see it,’ Kelly interrupted.

  Her lack of interest in celebrity gossip had always bugged Cat.

  ‘I’m not going to!’ Cat said. Even though that was exactly what she’d been planning to do.

  ‘You can’t. It’d be weird.’

  ‘Would it though? Surely I’m allowed to take an interest. In an ex. I’d say it’s healthy more than anything.’

  ‘Who’s Sam?’ Arnold asked.

  ‘My ex-boyfriend.’

  Arnold tipped his head on one side while he thought. ‘Did I ever met him?’

  ‘Meet him,’ Kelly automatically corrected.

  ‘Nah,’ Cat said. ‘We split up before you were born.’

  ‘See?’ Kelly said. ‘It’s too long. An entire Arnold ago.’

  ‘We’re going to start measuring time in Arnolds now?’ Cat said. ‘Interesting. So I’m six Arnolds old?’

  ‘How many am I?’ Arnold asked.

  Cat stared at him until he got it and they both laughed.

  ‘You really shouldn’t though,’ Kelly said.

  ‘But,’ Cat said, pinching another Wotsit, ‘consider this: what if I did?’

  ‘He left,’ Kelly said, giving her a hard stare.

  ‘Everyone always leaves,’ Cat said, faux-dramatically. ‘You’ll never leave me, will you, Arnold?’

  ‘I’m going to Beavers tomorrow,’ Arnold said, his eyes wide.

  ‘You’re breaking my heart,’ Cat said, dropping another kiss to the top of his head.

  ‘We’ll talk about this later,’ Kelly said.

  ‘Can’t wait.’

  * * *

  Cat met Kelly at university. Kelly had been a student and Cat had been going out with a boy, Justin, who was in one of Kelly’s seminar groups. One afternoon, they’d all gone into the pub – Justin, Kelly, and a few of their student friends, and Cat, who kept avoiding questions about where she went to uni and what she was studying. It was one of those hot sunny days that just became dreamier and more relaxed the more they all drank. Plus the pub overlooked a canal, so Cat had managed to convince herself pretty early on that she was on holiday.

  Kelly had been talking to one of the others for a while, but then she got up, took a couple of steps, and leaned down, her mouth close to Cat’s ear. She said, ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got a tampon, have you?’

  Cat was at first astonished – they were the first words Kelly had said to her beyond ‘Hello’. She couldn’t imagine a world where she asked a stranger for sanitary products – she’d be embarrassed to ask a friend – but then she was excited, because she did in fact have a tampon… she had a whole pack, unopened, that she’d bought that morning on the way to meet Justin.

  She handed the entire packet over and watched in awe as Kelly walked into the bar with the Tampax in her hand; she didn’t even hide them up her sleeve. She’d asked Kelly about it later – when they were madly in friend-love – and Kelly said people (mostly men) needed to get used to seeing tampons and not be freaked out by them. She said it was just a small thing, but she’d decided one day not to hide them and so she never did. She always had a pack out on the counter in the bathroom too. After a while, Cat did it as well (but she put them away if male friends came round, and then felt like a failure as a feminist).

  Once Kelly had got back from the loo that day, she’d sat next to Cat and they’d talked and talked. The others from the seminar drifted away over the course of the evening, the sky darkened, fairy lights came on in the trees around the beer garden, music drifted out of the pub, but Kelly and Cat talked and talked. Justin tried to join in, but couldn’t keep up with their conversation and eventually, exasperated, had announced he was leaving and asked if Cat was going with him or staying with Kelly.

  She’d stayed with Kelly. And they’d been best friends ever since.

  Four

  Cat woke to watery sunlight through hot-pink curtains and stretched her arms and legs out as far as she could. Kelly’s spare room was beautiful and had been at least partly designed with Cat in mind (and also for a feature on Kelly’s blog). It both made Cat feel special (she had her own room in her best friend’s house!) and like a loser (she had her own room in her best friend’s house because her actual room in her own house was garbage).

  At home she didn’t get woken up by watery light through hot-pink curtains; she got woken up by the recycling being emptied in the pub at the back. Or by the guy upstairs having a wank. Or by her roommate Georgie having a row with her boyfriend. Here at Kelly’s she always felt a bit like Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday. Her own home was more Orange is the New Black. Without the glamour.

  She could smell coffee, which meant Sean was up. Coffee was one of Sean’s responsibilities and he took it very seriously. Cat suddenly felt like she hadn’t seen Sean for ages and she loved him a lot. Also, she wanted coffee. So she forced herself out of bed and straight down to the kitchen.

  ‘Morning,’ Sean said, glancing over his shoulder at her. He was already fully dressed in a navy suit with a pink shirt and brown leather shoes
.

  ‘You look hot,’ Cat said, scratching her belly under the ancient Wallace & Gromit T-shirt she’d worn for bed.

  Sean went pink, which was precisely why Cat had said it. Although he really did look hot.

  ‘I’ve got a meeting in the Shard this morning.’

  ‘Ooh, I love the Shard.’ She sat at the breakfast island and picked a grape out of the huge wooden bowl in the middle. ‘Someone on Facebook said it’s worryingly phallic but I think if your penis looks like that—’

  ‘Good morning!’ Kelly said brightly, as she and Arnold joined them in the kitchen. ‘Do we think that’s appropriate breakfast conversation?’

  ‘I don’t see why not,’ Cat said in an equally sing-song voice. ‘Anatomy is educational.’

  Unlike Sean, Kelly was still in her pyjamas – the pair Cat had bought her last Christmas with gnomes all over them and ‘There’s no place like gnome’ on the bum – but looked a lot more awake than Cat felt. She kissed Sean on the cheek before joining Cat at the island. Arnold, also in pyjamas, hopped up next to Cat. Cat leaned over far enough to sniff his hair.

  ‘Hmm,’ she said. ‘Sweet dreams with a hint of fart.’

  ‘Cat!’ Kelly said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘We have to say “trump”,’ Arnold said.

  ‘Over my dead body,’ Cat said.

  Sean brought the coffee over and poured some for Cat in one of their pretty patterned over-sized teacups. Cat closed her eyes and inhaled the aroma. Usually she’d close her eyes and pretend she was in Paris, but she was more than happy where she was for once.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be getting ready for work?’ Kelly said.

  ‘Oh, you ruined it.’ Cat opened her eyes and then narrowed them at her friend. ‘Have you got something I can wear?’

  ‘I already put it on your bed.’

  Cat grinned. ‘Thanks, Mum.’

  ‘My mum,’ Arnold muttered.

  Cat raised one eyebrow at him. ‘Sharing is caring, baby!’

  ‘Touchy subject, I’m afraid,’ Sean said. He was drinking his coffee black, even though Cat was convinced he didn’t actually like it like that, but thought it made him seem more masculine.

  ‘Why?’ Cat sipped her coffee.

  ‘Because in four months, Arnold’s going to be a big brother.’

  Cat choked on her coffee, coughed, and sprayed it across the table.

  ‘Oh shit!’ she croaked. ‘Sorry. And sorry for the swear too. Don’t say “shit”, Arnold.’

  ‘I won’t,’ Arnold said brightly.

  Kelly wiped the table with kitchen roll and tore off a couple of sheets for Cat’s face, while Sean grabbed her a bottle of water from the fridge. Something in Cat’s chest felt like it was cracking, but she wasn’t sure why.

  ‘That is amazing news!’ she said, hopping off her stool to squeeze Arnold and kiss the top of his head. ‘You’re going to be the best big brother.’

  ‘I don’t want a baby,’ Arnold muttered.

  ‘I don’t blame you,’ Cat told him. ‘They’re smelly and gross and cry a lot. The first time I met you I couldn’t believe how horrible you were. But then you got bigger and cuter and funny and now you’re amazing. Apart from the smell.’

  Arnold smiled up at her and she kissed him on the nose, then rounded the table to hug Kelly.

  ‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!’ she said into her friend’s glossy hair. ‘How did you keep it secret?’

  ‘I didn’t mean to! I didn’t realise for ages. And then we were waiting for scans and telling A and everything. I almost told you last night, but Sean wanted to see your face.’

  ‘Aw, Sean,’ Cat said, ruffling his hair.

  ‘I need to get off,’ Sean said, smoothing his hair with one hand and reaching for his wife’s hand with the other.

  ‘At the breakfast table?’ Cat said. ‘Even I wouldn’t—’

  ‘You’re very funny,’ he said, dipping his head to kiss Kelly. ‘And we both know you would.’

  ‘Sean!’ Cat said, delighted.

  His face was still bright red when he left the room.

  ‘God, I love making him blush,’ Cat said wistfully.

  ‘You’re awful,’ Kelly said, clambering down off her own stool. ‘We need to get sorted. I can drop you at Highgate Tube after I take Arnold, is that OK? Or will you be late?’

  ‘Late probably. Again. But I don’t care. That would be great.’

  * * *

  ‘You really shouldn’t go to Sam’s show, you know,’ Kelly said in the car, once they’d dropped Arnold at school.

  ‘I know,’ Cat said. ‘I just… what if it actually is about me.’

  ‘Why would it be about you?’

  ‘Why would it be called “Cat Among the Pigeons” if it’s not about me?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Kelly frowned over the steering wheel. ‘Maybe it’s about pigeons.’

  ‘You think it’s more likely to be about pigeons than about me?’

  ‘No? I don’t know. I just don’t want you to go and be disappointed.’ She pulled into the right-hand lane and the car behind honked.

  ‘So impatient,’ Kelly muttered.

  ‘Do you think I’ll be disappointed if it is about me or if it isn’t?’ Cat asked.

  Kelly glanced at her and then back at the road. ‘I don’t even know.’

  Cat laughed. ‘Me neither.’ She stared out of the window for a while, looking at the enormous detached houses she’d never be able to buy, the restaurants she couldn’t even afford to eat in.

  ‘I just… I don’t feel like I ever got any closure, you know? He left and that was it.’

  ‘I know,’ Kelly said, glancing over with a sympathetic smile.

  Cat twisted her body so she was leaning back against the door and looking over at Kelly. ‘Will you come with me?’

  Kelly groaned. ‘Oh god. I suppose so.’

  ‘This is why you’re my best friend.’

  ‘I know,’ Kelly said. ‘It’s a nightmare.’

  * * *

  Colin was out of the office, and a few phone calls brought Cat up to date on her live cases. She had a note in her diary to follow up with some previous clients – see if they had any new business – but she could do that after lunch.

  Instead she angled her computer screen towards the wall, shifted her chair slightly, and googled Sam. It was unlikely that anyone would notice or even care, but she didn’t want anyone else knowing her business. Particularly when it involved Sam.

  She went to Images first and scrolled down the page. There was the photo from the paper and other photos from other shows. He was definitely doing better than she’d realised, but she didn’t go to comedy clubs any more, hadn’t for five years, not since she’d stopped doing stand-up herself. There was a photo of him with his arm round a woman, but after staring at it for a few seconds, Cat decided it was a fan. God. Sam had fans. There were photos of him backstage with other comedians, even one of him sitting on a sofa chatting with Gemma Jewell, Cat’s absolute favourite. What if he was going out with Gemma Jewell? That would be a nightmare. Although she couldn’t begrudge him; talk about an upgrade. In another tab, Cat googled Gemma Jewell and found she was apparently totally loved up with her high school sweetheart, so maybe they were just friends. Cat hoped not even. She hoped Sam had just sat there for the photo and then buggered off.

  A bit more scrolling and she saw a photo that made her catch her breath. She knew that photo like she knew her own reflection. It had been the lock screen on her phone. She’d taken it in the pub after one of Sam’s earliest stand-up gigs. He’d only done a couple of minutes and he’d been so nervous beforehand that he’d vomited in the street. But he’d nailed it. And then they’d all got hammered. She smiled at her unintentional mental pun.

  Sam was smiling directly into the camera and it wasn’t the best photo of him she’d ever taken – he’d had his hair cut that day and it was too short and all standing on end like a loo brush – but he looked
so happy and tired and relieved. And she’d been so proud of him. She could barely wait for him to get down from the makeshift stage and back over to their table so she could wrap her arms around him and press her face into his neck and tell him how brilliant he’d been. And there it was. There he was. Her photo. In Google image search.

  She clicked through to the article. It was a piece about an Australian comedy festival. Of course it was. Sam had flown over for it for the first time while they were still together and Cat had been incredibly envious, but also incredibly proud. She’d wanted to go with him – he’d asked her to – but she couldn’t afford it. His parents had paid for him and they’d offered to pay for Cat too, but she’d said no, it was too much. His mum had cornered her in their kitchen one evening and tried to convince her, saying that they’d be delighted to since Cat didn’t have any parents of her own, well, her dad, but—

  And Cat had spluttered a few excuses and legged it. She’d hated being rude to Jan, who had always been lovely, but there was just no way. So Sam had gone to the Melbourne International Comedy Festival and Cat had gone to stay with Kelly and sulk until he came back. But when he’d got back, he’d been full of talk about promoters and how much opportunity there was out there and how he could get so many more gigs, and – eventually – how he was thinking about moving out there, at least for a year or so, and how his parents supported the idea and what did Cat think?

  And she’d waited for him to ask her to go with her. She’d waited for him to talk about it being a great opportunity for Cat too. But he never did. And then he left. And that had been that.

  Five

  Cat had met Sam when he ran her over on his bike. She’d been on a date that had been a total disaster. The guy had spent most of the evening looking at his phone and had seemed annoyed with Cat for expecting him to make conversation. She’d spent almost an hour trying to come up with an excuse to leave, and eventually she’d just said, ‘Sorry, I’ve got to go’ and walked out. She’d walked along the Embankment, looking out over the water and the bridges and the Houses of Parliament, and thinking about how much she loved London at times like that, but how few times like that she actually had. And then she’d looked the wrong way before crossing the road and Sam had hit her with his bike.