If I Never Met You(81)

She did the same with Nicola, who tottered over in a cloud of fruity perfume, clad in a rainbow sequin dress, volumised hair fanning out like a lion’s mane.

‘God, you’re a bit of alright, who are you?’ she said to Jamie, who smiled and shook hands with her. Laurie noticed Nicola was wearing an engagement diamond next to a wedding band, the size of a grape.

‘I’m with Laurie,’ he said.

‘Ahhhh so you found someone!’ her dad said. ‘I was ready to set you up with Harry over there, after you said you were going to be on the hunt tonight.’

Laurie blinked and realised what he was referring to – a remark on WhatsApp months ago, ‘maybe I’ll meet someone at your tear-up.’ Tactful of him to repeat it in front of her date. Laurie scratched her neck and tried to avoid Jamie’s pointed oh well whaddya know look.

‘Good to meet you, son,’ Austin pumped Jamie’s hand. ‘Hammer that bar, it’s free all night. Heeeeeeyyyy!’ her dad’s attention was pulled away by someone else behind them.

‘I guess that solves the mystery of why I wasn’t needed for manoeuvres, then,’ Jamie said.

‘Hardly! My dad talks a lot of rubbish.’

‘Mmmm. Harry best not try anything.’

Laurie laughed.

Having been sceptical at first, Cloud 23 actually came into its own when there were no clouds, and the scene beyond the glass was a winter’s night. The streets were long sweeps of yellow, bluer lights from buildings, a jewel box of illuminations amid soft black. It made the city look so full of potential, so exciting.

‘Wow,’ Laurie said, nose almost to pane. ‘The view is really something. Like a Michael Mann film, huh.’

She turned to see if Jamie enjoyed the reference, and he was looking intently at her, not the great outdoors.

‘Did you really not want me to come tonight? Have I clipped your wings?’

‘No! That thing my dad said, he was repeating a message I sent before you and I had even …’ she waved her hand. ‘You know. Started doing this.’

‘Yeah but given we’re not “doing this” … I don’t like to think I’m closing off avenues to you.’

Was Jamie worrying he’d taken on a project with Laurie, one that wouldn’t end when the dating scam did? That they’d have to go through the motions of still socialising? That he was already trying to gently detach? She’d sort of known all along this was how it would feel when it came to an end, and yet it still made her feel empty.

‘Jamie, I’m not your responsibility. You know that don’t you? You don’t have to worry.’

Jamie frowned. Now safely through the door, she’d briefly thought they might have fun tonight, watching the Hogarthian gin hall scenes and squalid tableaus of her father’s life unfold. Looking at Jamie and his taut expression, she knew it was one of those nights when communication doesn’t flow and drink sits heavy.

‘Are you regretting this? The showmance,’ Jamie said, taking a swig of his welcome cocktail.

Laurie paused, before the glib automatic denial sprang to her lips. ‘Yes. A bit. But that’s nothing to do with you. It’s the situation at work, Dan and Michael’s paltry attacks.’

‘You know they’re both in love with you, right?’

‘What?’ Laurie said, screwing up her face. ‘Nah. A fifty per cent hard “nah”, given what Dan did.’

Jamie was undeterred. ‘Don’t let them make you think that their problems are your problems. They are trying to do a head-wrecking number on you, to undermine you, and you have to resist.’

‘Hah. I told my best friend something very similar the other day.’

‘Were you right?’

‘Yes.’

‘So am I.’

Laurie had plans to slink out of the party in full swing and go for a late drink with Jamie elsewhere, but the lure of ‘just one more here’ after they’d seen off two welcome cocktails was too strong. It was a long way down.

Laurie was at the bar when a late middle aged man at her elbow turned towards her. She felt she recognised him, and he said: ‘Hello you,’ as if he knew her.

Laurie didn’t reply.

It wasn’t often in life that a revelation came in an instant. They were usually delivered in stages, sometimes across years, and you had to do some self-assembly to make sense of them. But this man’s features, a ghost from Christmas past – he in a split second summed up why she had been so reluctant to come tonight. He encapsulated what was wrong with spending time in her father’s world.

Looking him in the face, she realised there was something she’d not looked at directly in a long, long time. Since it happened, in fact.

‘What’re are you having?’ said the barman and Laurie couldn’t remember a thing. ‘Gin … and tonic and lager.’

‘Which one?’

‘Whichever,’ Laurie said, dully.

‘Let me get these,’ the man said.

‘Are you … Pete?’ Laurie said dumbly.

‘Yeah! Crikey, how do you know that? Are you? Hang on, you’re not Austin’s girl, are you?’

It had downloaded from nowhere. He was called Pete. The sensation of looking at him was that of the bogeyman threat appearing in a nightmare, a leering ghostly visage between the bedstead posts. You tried to scream for help, but nothing came out.