A slurred echo of her words reverberated round the room.
15
THE NINETIES
1993
There was to be a gathering of the clans. Well, not actual clans, but Angie and Maggie had been invited round to Leon’s place for dinner. Since university none of them had moved very far. Maggie and Angie were both still in York and Leon had gone back to live in Leeds so they were all within forty-five minutes of one another. Obviously, it wasn’t the same as when they all lived in the same house, but they kept in touch and tried to meet up when they could.
Usually when they got together, food was just something that happened because they had to eat. It had never been the focus of the arrangement and so, when the formal invitation had arrived through the post and Angie had opened the crisp white envelope, she had nearly fallen off her beanbag. Who invited someone for dinner by letter? What was wrong with just ringing them up and asking them round? And this was from Leon, which made the whole thing even more extraordinary.
She and Maggie made the trip to Leeds together, Maggie driving whilst they speculated wildly about what on earth was going on.
‘Maybe he’s finally taken that contract at Ronnie Scott’s,’ said Maggie, ‘and wants to celebrate in style with his oldest friends.’
‘Sadly, I think it’s more likely that I’ve taken up with Brad Pitt,’ replied Angie. ‘And believe me, I haven’t.’
They pulled up outside Leon’s flat, the ground floor of an old Victorian pile in Headingly which was surrounded on all sides by students and so was, as Leon had told them, ‘reassuringly cheap’。
‘Shit!’ said Angie. ‘We haven’t brought a bottle. Shall we nip over to that offie and get something?’
‘No. I’ve brought one of each,’ said Maggie. ‘They’re in the boot. Right. Let’s go and see what this is all about, shall we?’
It was obvious that something had changed in Leon’s world within seconds of him opening the door. He was wearing a gingham shirt and a pair of beige chinos in place of his usual jeans and T-shirt. Angie was about to comment, but something about his expression made her hold fire. He was giving her the distinct impression that he would rather have been dressed differently and that she was not expected to tease him about it.
Instead, she threw her arms around him and squeezed him tightly. ‘You’re looking very dapper,’ she said, but couldn’t resist adding, ‘Is this an interview or something?’
Leon didn’t reply, opening the door wide instead and taking the proffered bottles from Maggie. ‘Come in,’ he said. ‘Come in.’
The flat had been transformed. Usually, it was barely a step up from their student houses with books, sheet music and old coffee cups scattered across every surface. Now, though, everything was put neatly away, and the stark overhead lights had been eschewed in favour of more intimate table lamps. There was only one reason that Angie could envisage for these changes: Leon had a girlfriend.
Following her gut instinct, Angie glanced around the room and, sure enough, there was a woman sitting on the sofa behind them. She was smiling, but she made no effort to come forward to greet them.
‘So, you two,’ Leon said as the three of them stood rather awkwardly in the tidy space, ‘I’d like you to meet Becky. Becky, this is Angie and Maggie, two of my oldest friends.’ As he spoke, he rubbed at the palm of one hand with the thumb of the other and Angie realised, with a rush of affection, that he was nervous. But were the nerves about them meeting Becky or Becky meeting them?
Finally, Becky stood up, but she stayed where she was as if Angie and Maggie were contagious.
‘Hi,’ she said, managing a small, brief smile. ‘Lovely to meet you. Leon has told me so much about you both.’
Angie took her in. She was small-boned and pointy-featured. Her fair hair was very straight and hung around her face, sitting on her shoulders. She was pretty enough, but in a precise kind of way, nothing about her standing out as being unusual or particularly interesting. She wasn’t at all the kind of woman that she would have chosen for Leon, but precisely the kind that Leon would choose for himself.
‘Hi, Becky,’ said Maggie, and walked across to shake her hand. Who did that, thought Angie, apart from Maggie, of course? But Becky seemed perfectly at ease with the gesture.
Leon fussed around getting them drinks, but almost at once Becky excused herself to go and see to the food, leaving the three of them together.
‘Leon, you dark horse!’ said Angie. ‘You didn’t tell us you have a love interest. What happened to the Three Musketeers? One for all and all that?’