Chapter 8

Sitting up on the grass and wiping the leaves from his shirt Marco reached for his phone and pressed dial. He shut his eyes and breathed deeply.

‘Marco buddy how are you?’ Matt said answering the phone in his usual cheerful tone.
‘Not so good Matt. Can you meet me for a drink? I really need to talk to you.’
Matt could hear Marco's voice quivering and knew exactly what Marco was calling about. He had spoken to Abi during the week and told her that if she didn't want to see the poor kid than she had better end things quickly and not string the poor bastard along. Matt had known Abi for a few years and knew her rather brutal way when it came to men.
‘Ok Mate, where are you. I'm just knocking off from work now. Do you want to meet me in 7 dials? Do you know where that is? Good. Let's say half and hour.

Marco stuffed his mobile into his jeans pocket and ran the short distance to the tube station, trying to block things out of his mind. Maybe Matt would be able to convince Abi to change her mind. He was her friend and surely if he spoke to her she would look at things reasonably. After what felt like an age of racing along below the city Marco popped up again at Charing Cross and fought his way through the back roads down towards 7 dials. When he approached he could see Matt standing waiting, staring in the window of a record store.

‘God you look a bit rough buddy’ Matt said turning around and offering Marco a hug. ‘Let's go get a pint.’
Hearing Matt's sympathetic voice stirred his emotions again Marco had to do his very best to prevent himself from crying. Looking at Matt lumbering along in front of him Marco felt relieved that there was at least one person in London he could rely on.

After fifty meters or so Matt swerved swiftly through the doors of The Horse and Carriage, a dark and smokey pub; the kind which only survived from a combination of location, attracting the sort of clientele who have given up trying to find somewhere better, and a team of dedicated locals who spent most of the day perched at the bar, gargoyle like, before creeping back to wherever it was they had emerged from several hours earlier.

Sliding his knees under the table Marco tried to settle himself down while Matt went to the bar. Once again he replayed events over in his mind to try to understand what he might have done wrong but he could find nothing which would point to why Abi had changed so abruptly. Nothing made sense. Nothing at all. They had spent most of the night together, talking, dancing, and then they had slept together. In the morning she had kissed him at the door and said I’ll call you. How else could you interpret that kind of behaviour? He wasn’t imagining things, things that hadn’t happened had. Surely this was how relationships began. Guy meets girl, they get on well, go out together and that's it; relationship.

Matt manoeuvred his way into the booth and sat directly in front of Marco placing a pint and a packet of crisps in front of Marco and grinning widely. ‘Now there's a combination to cheer anyone up.’
Marco smiled and opened packet, offering them to Matt.
‘So what's up mate, you look like shit.’
Marco hardly knew where to start. Matt had told him to be careful with Abi and he had ignored him. And now here he was, in the very position Matt had warned him to be careful to avoid.

‘It’s about Abi’.

‘Ah, Matt said, knowingly and without a trace of the surprise Marco might have expected. ‘What's happened?’
Marco focused on each word to avoid breaking down all over again. ‘After you gave Abi’s number I called her. She told me that she would call me but she didn’t which is why I decided to call her myself. On the phone we arranged to meet in Clapham for a drink. That's where I’ve been tonight. When I got there she was really different and cold. She told me lots of bullshit excuses for why she didn’t want to see me. She said that I’m too young, and that she is too busy to be in a relationship. That I shouldn’t be in such a serious relationship when I’ve only just moved to London. She used practically any excuse she could think of. I don't understand Matt.’
Marco took a large gulp of his pint to try to steady his nerves. The bar was pretty much empty and stunk of a cigarettes, vomit and flat beer and the carpet looked as thought it might crawl away in protest at any moment.
Matt paused a little, not sure whether Marco had finished and where he might start if he had. He felt partly responsible for what had happened. But then again what can you do for a grown man. Or at least a grown young man. Sometimes people have to live their mistakes to learn from them Matt thought.
‘I’m sorry Mate, she could certainly have handled things a little better’
‘What?’ Marco said confused. ‘You don't exactly sound surprised Matt?’
Matt hesitated once again, further stalling by taking another slow sip from his pint. ‘Listen mate, I told you the other night and again in The Bistro that Abi’s a difficult woman. She’s a mate and that’s fine but I’ve never been keen on the way she treats guys which is why I made such a big point of telling you to steer clear. I'm your friend Marco and you have to understand that what I told her was for your own good.
‘What are you talking about?!’
‘Listen Marco; try to calm down a bit ok. If Abi had had her way she would never have met up with you at all. When you insisted that I give you her number, I called her and told her that if she wasn’t interested in you than she had better bloody well tell you and not be a bitch about it.’
‘What, so you mean you knew what she was going to say. You've known all week’, Marco said distressed, raising his voice.
‘Look mate I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to tell you. All I wanted to do was to make sure that she didn't keep on stringing you along.’
Marco could feel the blood rushing to his head. This was far too much for him to handle. He felt utterly betrayed. Not only had his dream of turning his crummy life around been scuttled over a cheap drink in North Clapham but now it was obvious that his only mate in London had been laughing behind his back all week long, knowing he was going to fall flat on his face and had said nothing. Marco felt humiliated. Before Matt could continue he slid out of his seat and stormed out of the bar ignoring Matt’s attempts to stop him. Instead he ran towards Shaftsbury Avenue and, turning into Charing Cross Road, Marco slipped into the first bookshop he came across, the tears already streaming down his cheeks, trying desperately to figure out what he could possibly do next.