Sushi for Beginners
Page 146
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Her face inscrutable. Lisa eyed him and considered shooting him a sly little maybe-I-have-maybe-I-haven’t smirk. That would bring to a halt this crazy, dangerous situation. Then abruptly she decided against it. She’d never played games with him, so why start now? ‘No, Oliver, there’s no one else.’
‘Right,’ he nodded slowly and carefully. ‘Well, I might as well finish ripping my guts out here.’ After a nervous pause he continued, ‘I still love you. Now that we’re older and wiser,’ – uncertain little laugh – ‘I can see it working out.’
‘Can you?’ Her question was cool.
‘Yes,’ he said stoutly. ‘And if you were interested I could base myself in Dublin.’
‘You wouldn’t have to, I’m moving back to London at the end of the week,’ she muttered.
‘Then, Lisa,’ Oliver said, his face deadly serious, ‘the only question is, are you interested?’
A long, tense silence followed until Lisa eventually spoke. ‘Yeah, I suppose.’ She was suddenly shy.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yeah.’ A nervous giggle spilled from her.
‘Babes!’ he exclaimed, in mock outrage. ‘So what are you doing, making me sweat like this?’
Still shy, she admitted, ‘I was afraid. I am afraid.’
‘Of what?’
She shrugged. ‘Of hope, I suppose. I didn’t want to, in case you were just being mental. I had to be sure you were sure until I could even think about it. The thing is,’ she admitted bashfully, ‘I love you.’
‘Then there’s no need to be afraid,’ he promised.
‘When did you get so wise?’ she grumbled.
He laughed hard and loud, a proper Oliver laugh, and suddenly her thoughts were like greyhounds who’d been let out of a trap. They just took off.
How lucky was she to get a reprieve? The full extent of her sheer, jammy, good fortune revealed itself to her and she was soaring, almost weightless with happiness. Not everyone gets a chance like this, she realized, savouring – for once – the value of the present moment.
I’ll do it differently this time, she vowed fiercely. They both would. And there was something else, the icing on the cake, as it were: if two weddings to the same person were good enough for Burton and Taylor, they were good enough for her. Unable to stop her joyous, runaway head, she was already planning the second wedding, a fabulous extravaganza. No sneaking away to Vegas this time – no, they’d do it properly. Her mum would be thrilled. And they’d get Hello! to photo it…
As if he could read her thoughts, Oliver exclaimed anxiously, ‘Easy tiger!’
Epilogue
Jack and Ashling were strolling on the pier. It was a May evening, still bright. Arms linked, they ambled along.
‘Toffo?’ Ashling offered.
‘And there I was thinking that things just couldn’t get any better,’ Jack said.
Ashling lucky-dipped in her bag. ‘Where are they?’ She brought forth a card of Anadin and a bottle of rescue remedy before finding the Toffos.
‘You still have all that stuff in there?’ Jack sounded sad. ‘The plasters and everything?’
‘Habit, I suppose.’ But for the first time ever she felt slightly silly for carrying around so much disaster-prevention stuff.
‘You wouldn’t consider throwing it all away? You don’t need any of it now. Everything is different.’
Ashling looked at him for a long time. He was right, everything was different. ‘OK, I’ll lose it all when we get home.’
‘Why not do it now? Go on, fling your bag into the sea.’
‘Fling my bag into the sea? Yeah, right.’
‘I mean it. Let it all go.’
‘Are you mad? What about my credit cards? What about the bag itself, for that matter?’
‘Take out your credit cards and I’ll buy you a new bag, I promise.’
‘Oh my God, you’re serious.’ Ashling gave him a look, semi-wary, semi-excited. She was strangely tempted by the idea, even if it did make her feel sick.
‘Let it all go,’ he repeated, his face animated.
‘I couldn’t.’
‘You could.’
Could I?
‘If this was my python-skin bag, I wouldn’t even consider it,’ she stalled.
‘But this one’s old and mank,’ Jack urged. ‘And the handle’s coming apart. I’ll get you another one. Oh, go on!’
The symbolism of it was seductive. But then again, throwing away a handbag, full of all the stuff she needed, how could she? But did she need any of it…? Perhaps she didn’t… The image sharpened up, becoming possible, probable, doable.
‘All right then, I will! I will! Hold those.’ She palmed him her wallet, her mobile, her cigarettes and her packet of Toffos.
‘I can’t believe I’m doing this.’ With an exhilarated shout, she twirled the bag over her head once. Twice. And then, in terror and exultation, simply let it go. It hurtled in a jubilant arc up into the darkening sky, a dense little cargo of safety-pins and plasters and biros. And gracefully, it followed its path downwards, where, with the smallest of splashes, it was received by the sea.
‘Right,’ he nodded slowly and carefully. ‘Well, I might as well finish ripping my guts out here.’ After a nervous pause he continued, ‘I still love you. Now that we’re older and wiser,’ – uncertain little laugh – ‘I can see it working out.’
‘Can you?’ Her question was cool.
‘Yes,’ he said stoutly. ‘And if you were interested I could base myself in Dublin.’
‘You wouldn’t have to, I’m moving back to London at the end of the week,’ she muttered.
‘Then, Lisa,’ Oliver said, his face deadly serious, ‘the only question is, are you interested?’
A long, tense silence followed until Lisa eventually spoke. ‘Yeah, I suppose.’ She was suddenly shy.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yeah.’ A nervous giggle spilled from her.
‘Babes!’ he exclaimed, in mock outrage. ‘So what are you doing, making me sweat like this?’
Still shy, she admitted, ‘I was afraid. I am afraid.’
‘Of what?’
She shrugged. ‘Of hope, I suppose. I didn’t want to, in case you were just being mental. I had to be sure you were sure until I could even think about it. The thing is,’ she admitted bashfully, ‘I love you.’
‘Then there’s no need to be afraid,’ he promised.
‘When did you get so wise?’ she grumbled.
He laughed hard and loud, a proper Oliver laugh, and suddenly her thoughts were like greyhounds who’d been let out of a trap. They just took off.
How lucky was she to get a reprieve? The full extent of her sheer, jammy, good fortune revealed itself to her and she was soaring, almost weightless with happiness. Not everyone gets a chance like this, she realized, savouring – for once – the value of the present moment.
I’ll do it differently this time, she vowed fiercely. They both would. And there was something else, the icing on the cake, as it were: if two weddings to the same person were good enough for Burton and Taylor, they were good enough for her. Unable to stop her joyous, runaway head, she was already planning the second wedding, a fabulous extravaganza. No sneaking away to Vegas this time – no, they’d do it properly. Her mum would be thrilled. And they’d get Hello! to photo it…
As if he could read her thoughts, Oliver exclaimed anxiously, ‘Easy tiger!’
Epilogue
Jack and Ashling were strolling on the pier. It was a May evening, still bright. Arms linked, they ambled along.
‘Toffo?’ Ashling offered.
‘And there I was thinking that things just couldn’t get any better,’ Jack said.
Ashling lucky-dipped in her bag. ‘Where are they?’ She brought forth a card of Anadin and a bottle of rescue remedy before finding the Toffos.
‘You still have all that stuff in there?’ Jack sounded sad. ‘The plasters and everything?’
‘Habit, I suppose.’ But for the first time ever she felt slightly silly for carrying around so much disaster-prevention stuff.
‘You wouldn’t consider throwing it all away? You don’t need any of it now. Everything is different.’
Ashling looked at him for a long time. He was right, everything was different. ‘OK, I’ll lose it all when we get home.’
‘Why not do it now? Go on, fling your bag into the sea.’
‘Fling my bag into the sea? Yeah, right.’
‘I mean it. Let it all go.’
‘Are you mad? What about my credit cards? What about the bag itself, for that matter?’
‘Take out your credit cards and I’ll buy you a new bag, I promise.’
‘Oh my God, you’re serious.’ Ashling gave him a look, semi-wary, semi-excited. She was strangely tempted by the idea, even if it did make her feel sick.
‘Let it all go,’ he repeated, his face animated.
‘I couldn’t.’
‘You could.’
Could I?
‘If this was my python-skin bag, I wouldn’t even consider it,’ she stalled.
‘But this one’s old and mank,’ Jack urged. ‘And the handle’s coming apart. I’ll get you another one. Oh, go on!’
The symbolism of it was seductive. But then again, throwing away a handbag, full of all the stuff she needed, how could she? But did she need any of it…? Perhaps she didn’t… The image sharpened up, becoming possible, probable, doable.
‘All right then, I will! I will! Hold those.’ She palmed him her wallet, her mobile, her cigarettes and her packet of Toffos.
‘I can’t believe I’m doing this.’ With an exhilarated shout, she twirled the bag over her head once. Twice. And then, in terror and exultation, simply let it go. It hurtled in a jubilant arc up into the darkening sky, a dense little cargo of safety-pins and plasters and biros. And gracefully, it followed its path downwards, where, with the smallest of splashes, it was received by the sea.
