The Other Us: the RONA winning perfect second chance romance to curl up with. Fiona Harper

The Other Us: the RONA winning perfect second chance romance to curl up with - Fiona Harper


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not right for each other,’ I tell her, trying to keep my voice calm.

      She gives me another one of those looks that tells me she thinks I’ve had an aneurysm or something. ‘Don’t be ridiculous! I’ve never seen two people more right for each other.’

      ‘Who told you?’

      She inhales deeply through her nose as she stares at me. ‘Dan. He’s a mess.’

      I feel a little kick of guilt down in my stomach, but I push it away. I’m being cruel to be kind, but I’m the only one who knows that. ‘He’ll thank me in the long run.’

      Becca laughs, but it’s not her usual bubbly giggle. ‘What? For breaking his heart?’

      I turn and start walking. ‘You’re just being dramatic now.’

      I’m halted by Becca grabbing my arm, wrenching my shoulder in my socket. ‘What’s wrong with you, Mags? You’ve been acting really weird the last couple of weeks! You’ve changed.’

      I pull my arm away from her and scowl. ‘How?’

      ‘You’re … you’re …’ She looks desperately at me, as if she really doesn’t want to let the next couple of words out of her mouth. ‘You’ve just started being really selfish.’

      I blink again. Selfish?

      Well, maybe it seems that way because I’m not being my usual doormat self – I’m not going along with what everybody else wants, letting life happen to me instead of taking it by the horns. I suppose if she wants to call that selfish then maybe I should let her. ‘You don’t understand.’

      ‘Then explain it to me.’

      For a moment, I actually consider this. Could I tell her? Could I tell her everything? But then I imagine the words coming out of my mouth and what her reaction will be. For all her wafting around like an unearthly being this evening, Becca is probably one of the most grounded people I know. She’ll just get even angrier with me, thinking I’m making fun of the situation. ‘I can’t.’

      Her expression hardens again. ‘Or won’t.’

      A sudden drop in my stomach alerts me to the fact that this is a crucial moment, that I have to handle it right. Dan and Becca are my anchors in this world, my only connections to the life I’ve left behind. I’ve cut one loose and I really don’t want to lose the other.

      ‘Remember that time we went to that gig at the Hammersmith Apollo,’ I say, ‘and we were a little bit tipsy, and we got on the bus and dozed off on each other?’

      Becca looks warily at me. ‘Yes?’

      ‘How we woke up and realised we were going the wrong way, that we needed to get off and change buses, or we’d end up in Islington instead of Putney?’

      She nods.

      ‘Well, that’s what I felt my life was like. The destination was fine and all that, but I had that same sudden shock in the pit of my stomach – I wasn’t going the way I was supposed to be going. I know it seems drastic and all, but I had to do something before it was too late.’

      I look at her, begging her to understand. She sighs and then we fall into step beside each other, making an unspoken decision to change direction and head for the bar. I know she’s confused and angry but I also know she’ll stand by me. She’s only being like this because she’s trying to protect me, trying to steer me down the path she thinks leads to happiness for me. Somehow, I’m just going to have to convince her that path doesn’t always lead to Dan.

      I creep into the flat. It’s gone eleven and the lights are off in the hallway. I start to tiptoe past the living-room door when I hear a voice.

      ‘So who is he, then?’

      I press my hand to my chest to stop my heart galloping right out of it. As I walk towards the slightly open door, I see blue light flickering on the walls. I push it open and find Becca inside, watching The Word with the sound turned right down, which, in my mind, is the only way to cope with it. I sit down beside Becca on the sofa and watch Terry Christian interview a scruffy-looking rocker whose name I can’t remember. ‘Who’s who?’

      I can feel her looking at me. ‘You know who. The guy … the new guy.’

      I keep my mouth closed and continue to stare at the TV. Maybe I should have sneaked around more with Jude. Maybe I should have waited a little longer after ditching Dan to dive straight into a new relationship. I can’t even use the excuse that I’m young and impulsive. On the outside, maybe, but not on the inside. It’s just that I spent a whole lifetime waiting to feel like this, a whole life of waiting, full stop. Waiting to feel important. Waiting to feel special. I can’t wait any more. I just can’t.

      While most people have no idea I’m seeing anyone, I should have known it wouldn’t take Becca long. It’s been two weeks now since I split with Dan and I’m spending a lot of my free time at Jude’s. Partly because he lives with Dom, whose parents pay for his rent and it’s a heck of a lot nicer than this dump, and partly because I’ve been avoiding having exactly this conversation with Becca.

      ‘Maggie?’ she prompts softly when I don’t answer.

      I breathe in deeply. I’m not sure if I’m ready for this. I was only just feeling we’ve been getting back to normal after I turned Dan down. She seems to have become very protective of him all of a sudden.

      ‘Take a wild guess,’ I mutter, keeping my eyes trained on the singer on the television, who is now yelling at the audience. He makes a few choice hand gestures and then throws his drink over the people in the front row.

      Even though the TV’s turned down, the air seems to become even more still, more quiet, all of a sudden. ‘Please tell me you’re joking,’ Becca finally says.

      I shake my head and risk looking her direction.

      ‘No,’ she says, her voice firm and low, as if she can change the truth by being determined enough about it. ‘You are not seeing Jude the Jerk again!’

      ‘I am,’ I reply, just as firm and determined. ‘And he’s not a jerk.’

      She lets out a dry laugh. ‘That was your name for him, remember? Not mine!’

      ‘This time it’s different, Becs.’

      She shakes her head wearily. ‘You chose him – the guy that broke your heart then used it to mop the floor – over Dan? I really don’t get it.’

      ‘I know,’ is all I can say back. I know she doesn’t get it. I also know if I try to tell her the truth, she’ll have me locked up in a mental asylum. Becca’s a really down-to-earth sort. She doesn’t believe in ghosts or God or even horoscopes. She won’t even watch Quantum Leap, for goodness’ sake!

      ‘Poor Dan,’ she says, shaking her head.

      That’s another reason I’ve been avoiding the flat recently. Every time she looks at me, I get the sense I’m guilty of something. And I’m not. I realised Dan wasn’t the one for me and I broke it off. Even without the whole insane time-hopping thing, it was the right thing to do.

      I know I won’t be happy with him.

      Not properly. It’ll look that way for a time, but then it’ll die. Not quickly and cleanly in a nuclear bust-up but slowly, almost imperceptibly, until we’re drowning in our own stagnation and we don’t know it. ‘I don’t expect you to understand,’ I say calmly, ‘but I would like you to respect my choice.’

      Becca closes her mouth and her jaw tenses. ‘He’s going to break your heart again, I hope you know that. Once a selfish womaniser, always a selfish womaniser …’

      I stand up


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