Page 25 of Wish You Were Here

Ben

‘This is your girlfriend from university?’ says Abigail. She is sitting on our sofa next to Simon, and they’re in the middle of eating dinner whilst watching an episode of Pointless .

‘That’s right,’ I reply.

‘You just bumped into her on the street?’

‘I did. I haven’t seen her since just after graduation. Apparently, she’s been off around the world, but now she’s back living in London.’

‘And straight into your pants!’ says Simon.

‘It’s not like that,’ I say, and Abigail nudges Simon in the ribs.

‘I was just saying,’ says Simon.

‘It’s just a drink. A catch up. That’s all.’

‘So definitely not a date?’ says Abigail.

‘Definitely not a date.’

‘Is she hot though? That’s the big question,’ says Simon.

I look at Abigail, wondering if she’s going to give him another nudge, but she doesn’t and instead she looks at me, waiting for an answer.

Is Jemma hot? I think the answer is a very definite yes.

She looked fantastic the other day, and I’m sure tonight she might look even better, but it’s so much more than that.

Jemma and I already dated for two years so we know each other.

It’s comfortable, familiar, and yet we haven’t seen each other in eight years, so there’s also an element of the new.

It’s exhilarating because I was almost done trying to find love in London and then Jemma appeared as if by magic – is it fate?

I am trying desperately not to get ahead of myself because it is just a drink, and I have absolutely no idea if Jemma is A: Single.

B: Looking for love. C: If she is single and looking for love, whether she even considers me an option due to our previous romantic history.

‘Jemma is attractive, but like I said—’

‘It’s just a drink,’ says Simon, doing a terrible impression of me.

‘Oh, that’s really good,’ says Abigail, giggling. ‘It’s just like him. Do it again.’

‘Jemma is very attractive, but like I said, it’s just a drink,’ says Simon, mocking me, and Abigail cracks up laughing, so I decide it’s time to get ready, but as I turn around to walk out, Jemma stops me.

‘Seriously, Ben, I really hope it goes well tonight.’

‘All joking aside, me too, mate,’ says Simon.

I say thank you, then I walk out and get ready, leaving Simon and Abigail on the sofa watching Pointless and eating Simon’s homemade spaghetti bolognaise.

It’s so strange that Simon and Abigail have gone from two people who were a part of our group to two people in their own little bubble.

They have their own life together now, and I want that too.

I want someone to create a life with, to sit on the sofa with on a Wednesday evening and watch Pointless together while tucking into a homemade Italian classic.

Is that too much to ask for? It’s all I have ever wanted.

The thing with Saskia is a dream, a distraction because I can’t see anything actually happening with her, but with Jemma it’s real.

If tonight goes well, who knows where it might lead.

‘So, I’m in Fiji, on a desert island. I mean a proper desert island you can walk around in half-an-hour.

It’s stunning with palm-fringed beaches, and a small hill in the middle you can walk to the top of and see for miles around.

The most gorgeous, crystal clear water with tropical fish, and there are only ten of us on the entire island in the middle of the Pacific,’ says Jemma.

‘It sounds incredible.’

‘It was one of my bucket list experiences and I was so excited about it. The boat dropped us off and we had two nights on the island. No phone service, and all our food we had to bring on the island ourselves. I was so excited. It was a dream.’

‘I bet.’

‘Then it happened.’

‘What happened?’ I ask, leaning forward.

‘The worst food poisoning I’d ever had! Before we left that morning, I decided to have sushi for breakfast. Biggest mistake of my life.

I spent the first twelve hours on the island, projectile vomiting, and the next day curled up in a ball feeling like absolute shit.

I had two days in paradise, and it was ruined by one dodgy piece of sashimi. ’

‘That is why I don’t eat raw fish.’

‘I love sushi, but that’s one moment from my travels I wish I hadn’t,’ says Jemma.

We arranged to meet in a pub in Camberwell, near to Jemma’s flat, which she only moved into two months ago when she moved from her parents’ house in Cambridge.

She’s working as a project and solutions manager for a media tech company, and she’s in London to finally, in her own words, ‘settle down’.

As soon as she walked in, I thought to myself that she looked even better than the first time I had seen her.

She had clearly made an effort for our ‘just a drink’ in a stunning outfit, and I don’t know what it means, but it’s clear there is something brewing between us.

I can feel it like it’s an extra character sitting at the table with us.

And you must be, oh yes, the sexual attraction that’s still there after eight years. It’s a pleasure.

‘I think I just needed to get all the travelling out of my system before I could settle down and do all the other stuff,’ says Jemma, holding a glass of white wine in her hand.

‘I know what you mean.’

‘Oh, you’ve travelled, have you, Benji?’

‘It depends on what you mean by travelled, Jem?’

‘I think it’s clear.’

‘Then no, I haven’t travelled. A few European trips, a couple of UK holidays, but nothing like you. I’ve been too busy building a career, which now when I say it out loud makes me sound like the most boring man in the entire world. Please feel free to get up and leave at any point.’

She laughs. ‘I’m not going anywhere, and it’s fine, Benji.

We are all different, but do you think you’ll wake up one day and regret not travelling more?

’ says Jemma, and she looks at me across the table, and I think how pretty she is and I wonder what our life would have been like if we had stayed together.

Would I have travelled too? Would we be married?

A house in the suburbs? Kids? It’s impossible to know, but clearly the last eight years have been good to Jemma because she looks even more beautiful than she did, and she has lots of cool, action-packed tales from her travels.

I, on the other hand, have a reasonably healthy bank balance, a solid retirement policy, sound long-term investments, and good skin thanks to a decent skin-care regimen.

‘I don’t think so. Travelling isn’t something I ever prioritised, but I wouldn’t mind doing a bit more in the future. If I meet the right person to do it with.’

‘Oh yes, the Benji search for love! You know it’s why we had to break up when we did?’

‘I mean yes and no. I thought it was mainly because you wanted to travel, and I wanted to move to London and get a job.’

‘Yes, it was partly that, but also because I could see how much you wanted to settle down, get married, get a dog, have kids and I just wasn’t ready for it. I knew if we stayed together, I would have resented you for it, and I didn’t want to do that to us.’

‘Was I always that obvious about it?’ I say, and she smiles at me.

‘It’s a nice thing to want, Benji, but I just wasn’t ready then.’

‘And now?’ I ask, and I’m sure she starts blushing, although there is a candle on the table between us, and maybe she’s just feeling the heat from that.

‘Now,’ she replies, before she takes a sip of her Chardonnay, and then puts her glass down gently on the table, ‘I’m ready for all of it.’ And without blaming the candle, it’s definitely my turn to blush. ‘Although maybe not the dog because I have some pretty severe allergies.’

‘I wasn’t set on the dog anyway,’ I say, and she smiles at me, I smile at her, and something happens.

It’s like an alchemy that grips us both, and we’re talking like we never separated, every word, look, touch on the arm, all of it feels like it’s been perfectly scripted.

As if it was always meant to be this way.

She tells me all about her travels and regales me with stories that seem almost unbelievable, and I tell her about my quest for love and how awful it’s been going – including being attacked by Saffy with a soft Italian cheese missile, being interrogated by Annabelle and jilted mid-date by an emotionally vulnerable Cressida.

We reminisce about university, recalling our first proper date at Pizza Express , and how young, silly and foolish we were.

We recount the time we drove to Cornwall for a long weekend, stayed in a bed-and-breakfast in St Ives, where we tried to have sex, but the bed was so squeaky we didn’t want the other guests hearing us doing it all weekend, so we had to have sex everywhere but the bed.

We talk and talk, hours slip by, we order more drinks and food, and it’s one of those nights when you almost can’t believe it’s real.

‘Poppy is married and expecting her first child?’ says Jemma.

‘That’s right, and Mum and Dad are still bonkers.’

‘They’re not bonkers. I always loved your parents. So solid and lovely.’

‘They’re an acquired taste. So, what happened in New Zealand? You said you almost got married?’

For the first time all evening, Jemma looks a little hesitant to share.

‘It was just one of those things, Benji. I fell for him, hook, line and sinker, and I thought he felt the same about me. He was a Kiwi, lived in Auckland, and we dated for six months. He asked me to marry him. I said yes, we moved in together, and I thought that was it.’

‘Then?’

‘Then one day, he told me out of the blue that he’d been seeing someone else, we were over and that was it. I was on the next plane out of Auckland.’

‘That’s shit. I’m sorry, Jem.’

‘It’s okay. Clearly, he wasn’t the love of my life, and I’m fine with it now.

At the time it felt like the end of the world, and it has rather sullied New Zealand as a country for me, but I left with my head held high and with my dignity intact.

I also stole his favourite All Blacks rugby shirt, so I got my sweet revenge. ’

‘Good for you!’ I say, raising my glass over the table.

She raises hers and we gently knock them together, and as we do our eyes meet, and in that second, I know where I want this night to end up.

There is a scintillating energy between us, and as we get up to leave and head outside, it feels like we are about to make an important decision that might impact the rest of our lives.

Is this the end of the night or just the beginning?

I have never been very good at reading moments like this, and I don’t want to get it wrong.

I tell her I’ll walk her back to her flat, which is five minutes away, and soon we are standing outside of her building.

‘So, this has been nice—’

‘Come up, Benji.’

‘Are you sure? I don’t want to—’

‘Ssshhh,’ she says, putting a finger to my lips to stop me from talking, and then she leans forward and kisses me.

Our lips come together, and it is one of the strangest kisses I have ever had because it feels so familiar, like something I have been doing for years, and yet it also has that excitement and electricity of something new.

When we pull away, we stand in each other’s arms and just look at each other.

‘I’m so glad we bumped into each other,’ says Jemma.

‘Me too,’ I reply, and then she takes my hand and we walk into her building. Jemma and I are going to spend the night together. This is happening.

We walk into her flat, and we don’t even wait to have a conversation about perhaps having a coffee, before we are tearing each other’s clothes off, walking and kissing towards her bedroom, and finally we fall on the bed in the dark, semi-naked, and we pause for a moment, a shaft of light from outside shining across our faces.

‘Are you sure about this?’ I ask because it’s polite and I want to make sure.

‘Yes. You?’

‘One hundred and ten per cent.’

‘You know that’s not really a thing, right? You can’t be more than one hundred per cent sure about something because one hundred per cent is the most by definition when talking in percentages. Don’t you work in finance, Benji? I feel like you should know this stuff.’

‘Oh, shut up,’ I say, leaning in and kissing her, and our hands are all over each other, pulling clothes off, and we are about to have sex for the first time in almost nine years, and for a split-second a thought pops into my head.

We have told each other so much tonight, caught up on every detail of our lives, but there was something I didn’t tell Jemma about, and that was Saskia, and I have no idea why.