2000 - Thirtynothing Page 9

  ‘And Alex?’

  ‘Oh. Alex doesn’t mind. He’d much rather be working, or playing golf.’

  They fell silent again. Dig didn’t know what to say. What a waste. What an absolutely shocking waste of a beautiful woman in the prime of her sexuality. How could any man possibly share a bed with Delilah Lillie and not want to shag her senseless every night? This Alex character must be a raving shirt-lifter. It was the only explanation. Either that or he was shagging one of his waitresses on the sly.

  ‘And you left him?’

  ‘Hmm,’ Delilah said, her face falling, ‘I suppose I did.’

  Dig composed himself to ask her the burning question. ‘Why?’

  For the first time in the conversation Delilah’s body language closed in on itself and she became awkward. ‘I’d rather not say,’ she squirmed. ‘It’s er…it’s rather personal.’

  ‘OK. OK. No problem. But can I ask you just one more question?’

  Delilah nodded cautiously.

  ‘Are you back for good? This thing with Alex, is it over? Or what?’ He looked straight into Delilah’s eyes, hoping his gaze didn’t betray the urgency inside, and then looked away again. ‘I mean, are you staying?’ Oh God, Delilah, he thought, please say you’re staying, please say you’re staying.

  Delilah stiffened slightly and cleared her throat. ‘Haven’t quite decided about that yet,’ she said, ‘not quite sure.’

  ‘Oh,’ sighed Dig, ‘right.’

  ‘I’ve, er…I’ve got some stuff to deal with in London, stuff I need to do to sort my head out. It all depends, really, on how that all works out, you know.’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ said Dig, ‘what sort of stuff?’

  Delilah looked awkward again and was silent for a moment. Eventually she looked at him. ‘Oh, you know. Emotional stuff.’ Her eyes opened wide as she said the word ‘emotional’ and she smiled wryly.

  She was being very cagey and Dig didn’t know how to handle the conversation. It was obviously making her feel very uncomfortable and the last thing he wanted to do was make her uncomfortable. He would let it go—for now, anyway.

  ‘So,’ she said brightly, unselfconsciously changing the subject, ‘what about you? How’s your love life?’

  ‘Well,’ he smiled, ‘existent. Active. But far from perfect.’

  ‘Girlfriend?’

  ‘Oh no,’ he interjected briskly, ‘I haven’t got one of those, ’ as if she’d just said ‘Mouldy toothbrush?’ or ‘Incontinent guinea-pig?’ or something.

  ‘Anyone special since…since…well, you know?’

  ‘What—you mean since we split up?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘No,’ he answered. ‘No. No one.’ And then he laughed ironically as the sadness of this fact hit him.

  ‘You’re joking! No one special in ten years? How come?’

  He shrugged, blew out a lungful of breath. ‘I dunno,’ he said, ‘I just really haven’t wanted anything like that from anyone, haven’t needed it.’

  ‘I find that surprising,’ she said, ‘I always thought you were the one-woman-man type.’

  ‘Well, I guess I used to be’—he smiled, stubbed out his cigarette—‘when there was…just the one woman, if you see what I mean. But these days—I dunno—there just doesn’t seem to be anyone else special out there and life’s too short to mess around with people who aren’t special. It’s like, take Nadine. She drives me insane. Beautiful girl and everything—bright, funny, intelligent, talented and just all-round lovely person, but she keeps on getting involved with men who are—I don’t know—just, unworthy of her. Underdogs. She always goes for the underdogs. She feels sorry for them and she gets involved with them, you know, gives them the key to her life—oh, do come in, make yourself at home, put your feet up, these are my parents, this is my social life, these are my closest friends, stay the night, stay for breakfast, here’s a spare door key for you. And then two, three months later it’s all over because she’s finally realized that she doesn’t want to spend any more time with a loser, she wants her life back, and then it all gets really messy and unpleasant. That’s why I think it’s safer just to stay uninvolved, so I go for the, er, younger woman, mainly, these days…’

  Dig trailed off as he realized that Delilah probably wouldn’t be too impressed by this admission, but she didn’t seem to notice, as she leaned in towards him then and said, ‘D’you mind if I ask you something, something personal?’

  Dig bristled pleasantly and nodded. ‘Please,’ he said, ‘be my guest.’

  Delilah spooned a little yoghurt and mint on to her poppadam, popped it into her mouth and began crunching. She was flapping the spoon up and down in rhythm with her chewing, indicating her intention to start talking the moment she’d swallowed. Dig sat transfixed, watching her succulent lips in motion. Finally, she swallowed, took a slurp of water and looked Dig straight in the eye.

  ‘What’s the deal with you and Nadine?’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘I mean, what’s going on between you two? Are you sleeping together?’

  Dig choked. ‘I’m sorry,’ he spluttered, ‘me and Nadine? What on earth made you suggest that?’

  ‘Oh,’ she replied, picking bits of coriander-flecked tomato out of the relish and chewing on them, ‘just a vibe I picked up on, that’s all.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well. When I bumped into you. In the park. At first I just…assumed that you were together, you know, a couple. You looked like a couple. And then when we were in the coffee-shop and you and I were chatting. I’d worked out by then that you weren’t together, that you were just mates, but Nadine seemed…she was very prickly, almost like she was sulking. And I got the feeling that I was treading on her toes—that she didn’t want me around? And I couldn’t work out why. I mean, we were never exactly great friends at school or anything, but that was so long ago, it couldn’t be that, so all I could think of was that something had happened between you two, some other time, that she saw me as some kind of threat. For whatever reason. I mean, tell me if you think I’m being ridiculous or nosy or anything.’

  ‘Well. No. Nothing. Nothing’s ever happened between me and Deen. Well, not really.’ Dig was rubbing his chin and beginning to feel very uncomfortable. ‘It’s always been just a friendship, pretty much.’

  ‘Look. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s none of my business.’

  ‘No. But you’re right. Sort of. Nadine has been behaving very strangely lately.’ He told Delilah how aggressive Nadine had been that morning on the phone.

  ‘And she’s never behaved like this before now?’

  ‘Never. That’s the great thing about Nadine. I’ve always known what makes her tick, I’ve always understood her.’

  ‘Anything happened in her private life? Man troubles? Family troubles?’

  ‘Well, she’s just finished with yet another unsuitable underdog boyfriend. But I don’t think it’s that. I think she’s happy about that. And she’s just been offered the most fantastic job imaginable—loads of money and a month in paradise. She should be really happy.’

  ‘Well,’ said Delilah, moving out of the way to make room for their waiter to unload his trolley of steaming food, ‘she doesn’t seem happy. She doesn’t seem at all happy. And she’s got a real problem with me. That’s why I left the coffee-shop in such a hurry—I was getting such bad vibes off Nadine. She was making me feel really uncomfortable.’ She dipped her spoon into a dish of emerald-green spinach, flecked with creamy cubes of paneer cheese, and then flashed Dig an intense gaze. She took a deep breath.

  ‘Have you ever considered the possibility that she might be in love with you?’

  Dig’s eyebrow shot off the top of his forehead. He snorted derisively. ‘Nadine? Don’t be daft! She wouldn’t be in love with me if I was the last bloke on earth! She’s my mate, that’s all.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be quite so sure about that.’

  ‘You don’t know Nadine. There’s
no way, just no way, that she would ever feel that way about me. It’s unthinkable. It’s ridiculous! It’s—it’s—’

  ‘True?’ offered Delilah, raising an eyebrow at him.

  ‘No! No! You’ve got it all wrong. You don’t know Nadine the way I do. Nadine doesn’t do love. All Nadine wants is a huge man with a small ego who she can boss around and then dump when she gets bored with him. She’s the most independent person I’ve ever known. I don’t think Nadine’s capable of being in love, with anyone. Let alone with me.’

  ‘Women know about these things, you know?’

  ‘Yeah. I know. Female intuition. But I know Nadine and I know that what you’re saying is laughable. I mean, I’m sorry, but it is.’

  ‘Right. Well. Whatever, Dig. But I’ve been right about these things before. And I think that girl is in love with you. I can see it in her eyes.’ She laughed wryly. ‘And I can see in her eyes that she wishes I’d never come back on the scene.’

  ‘No—that’s not true.’

  ‘Oh it is. She sees me as competition.’

  Dig had to bite his lip to stop himself blurting out that in his opinion Nadine did see Delilah as competition but only in terms of losing this stupid bet. Nadine just couldn’t bear to lose. At anything.

  ‘And tell me this,’ Delilah continued, leaning forward towards Dig with her elbows on the table, ‘can you put your hand on your heart and swear to me that you’ve never, in all the years you’ve known Nadine, in all the years you’ve been friends, close friends, never felt more than just friendship? You’ve never been tempted to take things a step further? Never had a drunken night when things could have happened, you know? Never fancied her, even just a little bit?’

  ‘No! God! No. Never. I mean, there might have been a time, you know, years ago, when we were younger, just before university, just after you and I…But then she met some photographer guy at college and I sort of grew up and—no. No. Nothing ever happened. And now—it’s been so long and we’re such good mates. It just wouldn’t happen.’

  ‘Really? I can’t think why not, you know. She’s very sexy, very attractive.’

  ‘Oh I know. Of course she is. But she’s…well, she’s just Nadine, to me. Always has been. Always will be. And besides, she wouldn’t want me even if I did fancy her.’

  ‘So,’ smiled Delilah, ‘it’s not true then. What they say. About how men can never be truly platonic friends, that there’ll always be some sort of sexual tension, bubbling away, beneath the surface. You know, that When Harry Met Sally kind of thing.’

  ‘Well. Obviously not.’ Dig was hating every second of this conversation. He’d rather be discussing the fruits of Posh Spice’s latest shopping spree, or the contents of Dale Winton’s knicker drawer. This was all nonsense. Him? And Nadine? The concept was making his brain hurt. He didn’t want to think about it. And he certainly didn’t want to talk about it with Delilah.

  ‘…Well, for what it’s worth,’ she was saying, ‘I think you’d make a great couple. I think you’d be really good together. You’ve always had this bond. You’ve always been so similar.’

  Similar? He and Nadine? Well, of course they were. That’s why they were such good friends. That’s why they spent so much time together. But that didn’t mean to say that they should fancy each other, did it? That didn’t mean they should be a couple? And anyway, why was Delilah saying all this? What did all this have to do with tonight—with them?

  ‘But, anyway. It’s none of my business so I’ll shut up now.’

  Thank God, thought Dig, thank God.

  ELEVEN

  Nadine was feeling more and more insane by the second. More and more unhinged, churned up, inside out, upside-down and all over the place.

  She hadn’t known what else to do with herself, so she’d phoned Dig. She’d known he was going to be out, of course she had. But there was always a slight chance, wasn’t there, that something might have gone wrong, he might have come home early? So she’d phoned him, listened to his answerphone message, the one with the James Bond theme playing in the background. And then she’d called him again. Five minutes later. Just in case, you know, he’d just that second walked into the flat. And then again, five minutes later. And again. And again. And again. Twenty-six times in all.

  Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. She didn’t even have anything she particularly wanted to say to him. She just wanted to hear him say ‘hello’ so that she’d know he was home, that his night with Delilah was over, that he wasn’t with her any more. That’s all.

  She could have called him on his mobile, but the bastard always had it switched off. Which was just as well, really. What would she have said? ‘Are you having a good time with your dream-girl?’ He’d have said, ‘Yes, great, brilliant, you owe me a hundred quid.’ The line would have been alive with the atmosphere of some groovy place, a place where she wasn’t, and she’d have ended up feeling a hundred times worse. If that was possible.

  It was now eleven thirty and possibly the sort of time they’d be leaving the restaurant. They could be back in about half an hour, depending on where they were coming from and how quickly they could get a cab. But it was also the sort of time when they would be deciding whether they wanted the evening to end or not, that standing-on-the-pavement, stamping-their-feet-to-keep-warm-and-discussing-the-options sort of time. If they decided to go on somewhere, then there was no knowing what time Dig would be home. Nadine didn’t think she could stand it. She’d worked herself into such a frenzy by now that there was no way she’d be able to sleep. Her heart was pumping violently and adrenalin coursed dizzyingly through her body.

  Suddenly she knew what to do. She stood up, marched towards the coat stand, pulled down her ankle-length fake fur, threw it on, picked up her car keys and headed for her Spider, the front door slamming heavily behind her and her Bart Simpson slippers making barely a sound as she ran along the cold pavement.

  TWELVE

  After their meal Delilah seemed exhilarated, grinning widely and looping her arm through Dig’s. Dig felt himself grow five inches taller. She asked him if he would take her to a gig—it had been so many years since she’d been to see a band. She didn’t care who they saw—anyone, anyone at all, she said. Well, it was Dig’s job to know exactly who was playing where, and he was on the guest list for at least a dozen different gigs around town every night of the week.

  ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘What do you fancy? A bit of Britpop at a pub in Tufnell Park? Girl guitar band in Clapham South? Northern Soul revival band in Peckham?’

  They decided to see a band called Paranoid who’d just been signed by Johnny-Boy Records’ Camden Town rivals and were playing at a new venue in King’s Cross, right on the canal. They’d been hyped up to a colossal extent and this was their first live outing since they’d signed their contract. It was going to be a big night, full of celebrities. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought about this before. He’d been so overwhelmed by the prospect of spending an entire evening with Delilah that he’d had an imagination bypass. The only thing he could think of to do with a girl as beautiful as Delilah was to take her out for dinner. That’s what you did with beautiful girls. Going to gigs was what he did with his colleagues every night of the week; it was work, it was standing at the bar with a load of cynical blokes coolly ignoring some poor kids playing their hearts out for them on the stage, and drinking freebie beers. It had been a long time since he’d been to a gig for pleasure. But judging by the expression of pure excitement on Delilah’s face as she hailed a taxi on Rosebery Avenue and clambered into the back seat, it was going to be very pleasurable indeed.

  Delilah switched on the cab heater, pulled down the window and began smiling into the cool autumn wind that blew into her face. ‘You know,’ she said, turning towards Dig suddenly, ‘I’ve spent ten years in the countryside, ten years breathing in some of the cleanest air in the country, but nothing compares to the smell of London in winter. It smells so…so…full of possibility, doesn’t it? Country
air smells reassuring, safe, dependable. But this,’ she said, taking in another deep breath of the chill air, ‘this smells of life.’

  Dig had certainly never thought about London’s polluted oxygen in those terms before but, watching Delilah’s exquisite face aglow with happiness, excitement exuding from her like an intoxicating perfume, he was prepared to believe anything.

  ‘Oh my God! I just saw Robbie Williams!!’ screamed Delilah, as they made their way down the steep basement steps leading to the main club area. ‘Did you see? Robbie Williams!’

  Dig smiled happily. This evening was going so well.

  ‘I always liked him best, you know, when he was in Take That. I was far too old, of course, to be into Take That—it was a bit of a secret, really. Alex would have been horrified. But it’s all right to like him now, isn’t it? It’s quite cool to like Robbie these days. And I know loads of women my age who like him, too—he’s the older woman’s crumpet, isn’t he? And I love all of his songs, I know the lyrics off by heart. Oh my God, Dig, being here with you, after all these years, being in London, going to gigs—it’s like going back in time. I feel like a teenage girl again!’

  Dig glanced quizzically at Delilah. Take That? Was this really the same girl who’d body-surfed through the crowds at a New Model Army gig at the Town & Country back in ’84, wearing a shredded black T–shirt and stiletto-heeled pixie boots?

  She grinned widely at him and he decided to forgive her—it was probably some kind of post-modern, ironic thing.

  Downstairs was dark and dingy. The ceiling was low and the décor was all grubby red velveteen, scuffed mahogany, peeling gold and muted candle-light. It had obviously been styled to look like one of those nightclubs in old films where raunchy young women in spangles danced for penguin-suited gangsters and their glamorous lady friends to the crazy sounds of syncopated jazz.

  They headed towards the bar at the back and Dig said ‘All right’ to a few people he recognized. He could see it in their eyes when they clocked Delilah following behind him: Fucking hell, they were thinking, Dig’s done well for himself, didn’t think he had it in him.