LITMIR.BIZ

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I know that this pretending to be asleep ruse is a) gym avoidance…’

      It was fair comment. But the sight of Ali in full Nike regalia before nine on a Friday morning was inducing acute narcolepsy. After hours of sleep deprivation, his eyelids felt incredibly heavy, and a vortex of dizziness was threatening to pin him to the mattress.

      ‘…and b) because you’re still worrying about Julia. Come on. You should come for a workout with me.’

      ‘Are you insane?’ Ben yawned and stretched before springing back into the foetal position.

      ‘You could do with it.’

      Ben clenched his stomach muscles and stabbed at his T-shirt-covered torso to reassure himself that he still had some muscle tone, even if it was currently a few centimetres below the surface.

      ‘Maybe later. I’ve never been any good at physical exertion first thing. And I’ve only had about ten minutes’ sleep so it might just kill me.’

      Ali rolled her eyes.

      ‘Okay, maybe a couple of hours, tops, but I didn’t sleep much on the plane.’ He couldn’t help it if he was a sucker for seat-back Nintendo games and multiple movie channels playing on a loop. ‘And I’ve never been a morning person.’

      ‘It’s nearly two in the afternoon for us.’

      ‘For you, maybe. Anyway, that would make it just about time for an afternoon snooze.’ Ben folded his arms behind his head and indulged in a prolonged blink. Closed was definitely preferable to open.

      ‘You can’t just lie here moping.’

      ‘I would have been quite happy sleeping.’ Ben pulled the heavy Egyptian cotton covers up to his nose and relished the weight of the down duvet on his weak body.

      ‘Bull…it’d be good for you to get your blood pumping.’

      ‘It’d be better for you. You’re the one writing an article on the gym refurbishment. I might come along tomorrow, or I’ll go for a run in the park later. I need more sleep.’

      ‘Whatever.’

      ‘One of the advantages of being single is autonomy. Or at least that was the idea…’

      ‘Julia wasn’t bossy.’

      Ben smiled to himself. In some respects she and Ali had been way too similar. They always say girls pick men like their fathers, but did brothers pick women like their sisters? Right now, he hoped not. ‘Besides I hate gyms. Too many mirrors. I want the before and after, not during. I mean, who looks good while they’re exercising?’

      ‘You’ll have to look yourself in the eye eventually, and she’s bound to have pulled herself back together by now—she’s a tough cookie…’

      He just wished she didn’t have to hate him in the process.

      ‘Far better that you were honest. The longer you’d left it, the harder it would have become—and if you’d strung her along I’d have disowned you. Plus, just for the record, there are far more single women of your age out there than men. Read any of the magazines on my bedside table if you don’t believe me.’

      ‘Hey, I’m not desperate.’

      ‘I know.’

      ‘Even if I said the “d” word out loud, which might mean that you think I am because I’ve said I’m not.’

      ‘You are such an amateur shrink sometimes.’

      ‘I’m just a little disheartened. She wasn’t who I’d thought she was.’

      ‘We’ve all done it.’ Ali shuddered at the memories of dating pre-David. The drip-feeding of information at appropriate moments in an attempt to generate common ground before coming out with the more contentious, potentially deal-breaking stuff farther down the line. At seventeen she’d even reinvented herself sartorially in pursuit of Johnny’s affections. But he had been very cute. Everyone in her year had wanted to date him.

      Ben smiled. ‘Are we talking ten-hole Doc Martens?’

      Ali nodded sheepishly. Hormones had a lot to answer for.

      ‘And the rockabilly quiff…?’ He was enjoying this moment. She’d looked like a cross between Morrissey and the B52s.

      She laughed nervously, willing the conversation to move on. ‘It was an important experimental phase…’

      ‘Turn-ups on your vintage 501s…bright red lipstick… Mum thought you were about to come out.’

      ‘Yeah, yeah… All photographic evidence has been systematically destroyed. And I don’t think I need to take this from the boy who wore eyeliner.’

      ‘Once. I was twelve and I wanted to be a New Romantic.’ Ben sighed, allowing his head to sink back into the pillow and making his next point to the ceiling. ‘It would just be much easier if single people were required by law to carry a card stating their genuine age, profession, aspiration for children, preference for Coke over Pepsi, cats over dogs, Friends over Frasier, you know…’

      ‘You need to get a real job. You’ve got far too much time to think.’

      ‘A real job like yours, eh? O freelance journalist.’

      ‘Just remember, it’s your choice that you’re on your own.’

      Ben shrugged. Silence. Ali decided to ease off a little.

      ‘…so you’re not prepared to compromise. That’s a positive not a negative.’

      Ben nodded sagely. Even at the time there’d been a sense of relief. Julia had become a habit rather than a choice. And he’d been very fond of her. Fond. That said it all. Great-aunts were fond of their great-nieces; the British nation had been very fond of the Queen Mother. But the bottom line was he wanted it all. The whole mutual love and respect thing. The Paul and Linda. The Brad and Jen. Someone to grow old with. To have children with. Or nothing.

      ‘But…’ there was always a bloody but ‘…maybe I was just being male. Wanting the thing I didn’t have just because… She was a great girl in lots of ways. Spent a bit too much time at the office…’

      ‘She was ambitious.’

      ‘So am I. I just don’t feel the need to talk about my career trajectory incessantly. And at least I have an office to go to.’

      ‘As do I.’

      Ben scoffed as he folded his arms across his chest. ‘I think you’ll find yours is the spare room.’

      ‘At least I have a spare room.’

      Why did she always have to have a comeback? ‘Anyway, people need television.’

      Ali snorted. ‘Only in the way I need four pairs of black boots. Anyway, it’s not like you have a biological clock that’s ticking—and you’ve still got all your hair. Relax, unwind, have a bit of fun…’

      Ben nodded. Right now the random shag option was far more alluring than playing the relationship game. He didn’t have the energy for false starts, thoughtful gifts and the whole wooing process if there wasn’t long term potential. Lazy? Tired? Uninspired.

      ‘She’s out there somewhere, Benj. Maybe even at the gym.’

      ‘Nice try, Al.’

      Resting on his elbows, Ben eyed her suspiciously as she contorted herself through a number of stretches at the side of the bed. Women were definitely more supple than men, and Ali was always hyper when they were back in New York.

      ‘OK, I’m ready. Are you coming or what?’

      ‘Nope.’

      ‘Fine.’

      Ben

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