Pascale - pt 1

Having complained in my previous post that very few of the stories I read hit the spot, I started to think that perhaps if I was going to moan about all the other writers out there I ought to have a go myself. So I'm working on it, but it's looking like developing into a multipart story. I'm going to post what I've written so far, in two parts, and I'm warning you right now that I still haven't got to 'the good bit', so if that's what you're looking for, you may be disappointed. And if you're finding this months after I've written it and the later parts have now been posted, you may want to start at pt 3 if you don't like long preambles.



I had only been in for five minutes when there was a knock on the door. I wasn’t expecting anyone. What I was expecting was a cup of tea, a quick email check, then a couple of hours of work before I had to go out again. Whoever it was, I hoped I wouldn’t be disturbed for long. ‘One second,’ I called out, more brusquely than I had meant to.

‘Pascale! Hi - what a nice surprise!’
‘Hiya, Jon, how’re you doing? Am I disturbing you?’
‘Not at all – come in. I was just about to make a cup of tea. Would you like one?’
‘Oh, that sounds amazing – yes please.’

I took her coat and ushered her into the living room, excusing myself to go and put the kettle on. My pleasure in seeing her had been quite genuine; Pascale is an old university friend I don’t see nearly often enough and she would have been the last person I’d expect to see at my door. I didn’t even know she knew where I lived. We’ve never been close, exactly – it’s the sort of friendship where I think we both always felt we’d like to know each other better, but for no particular reason never quite made the effort.

‘Normal tea? Earl Grey? I’ve got some weird ones as well…’
‘Just normal is great, thanks.’
‘Milk/sugar?’
‘Just milk. Cheers.’

I brought in the cups and sat down opposite her. ‘So – how are things? And to what do I owe the pleasure?’

‘Oh, nothing in particular,’ she replied with a breezy smile, ‘just thought I’d drop by. I’m really well! How have you been?’

‘Yeah, great… busy, but that’s good, I guess. I’m in the middle of a big job at the moment and it’s just trying to fit everything else in…’

We carried on with pleasantries and chat for a while. As she was talking to me I was thinking back to our occasional chats when we were at college – I’d only run into her a couple of times since and never really stopped to notice her, but now I paid some attention I saw that there was a real change since then. What I’d always liked about Pascale was how at ease she always seemed, but talking to her now, I realised that in a way that’s what she’d always wanted people to think – maybe it hadn’t been quite as natural as I’d thought. But now I saw her really relaxed, totally comfortable with herself and chattering away as if we’d seen each other every day for the last five years, the difference was palpable. She’d grown up physically as well – from pretty girl to attractive woman, really full-figured but not at all too big, just the perfect size for her. The pronounced curves she now had suited her beautifully.

‘…but the really big news,’ she carried on, as I tuned back in from my musings, ‘is that I just got engaged!’

‘Wow! Pascale, that’s incredible! Congratulations – who’s the lucky man?’
‘Well, his name’s Will – you’d love him, he’s gorgeous. We met a few years ago but really got to know each other last summer, on holiday with mutual friends, and we’ve been together since then.’

She was beaming as she was telling me, and I hope I was beaming back. It was quite a surprise. It’s not as if I had any good reason to be shocked; after all, twenty minutes earlier I’d hardly thought of her for the last four years. But even with a girl you sort of know and sort of find attractive, it’s never especially welcome news to find that she’s off the market for good – just a mild, shoulder-shrugging, ‘should have got a move on with that one a bit sooner’ sort of feeling. I was pleased for her, of course. We probably wouldn’t have ever got together anyway.

‘So when are you doing it? Is it going to be soon?’
‘Next year, probably – his family’s huge, it will take an age to organise. Luckily he has a very bossy little sister who is going to be our unofficial wedding planner. She doesn’t know it yet, but it’s what she was born to do.’
‘How about that – he even comes with a PA. He sounds perfect.’
‘He is! How sickening.’

You’re not kidding, I thought, but only half meant it. She stayed for another half an hour and we reminisced about university days, lecturers we’d liked, pubs we’d hung out in, people we were still in touch with… it was really nice. Then she said she’d better be going and asked what I was doing next Tuesday evening.

‘I think I’m free. What’s the plan?’

‘Well, I thought – dinner at mine? I’m loving having a kitchen all to myself. So nice to be able to cook whenever I want and not worry about which pans are mine!’ She had been saying that she had recently moved in with her fiancé after sharing with a couple of friends for the last couple of years.

‘That sounds lovely! Does this mean I get to meet your fella?’

‘Sadly not – he’s going to be away. You’ll have to keep me entertained in his stead!’

‘I’ll see what I can do. Cool, well that sounds great – I’ll have to meet him another time,’ I said, silently promising myself it wouldn’t be any time too soon.

‘Cool! See you next week then. I’ll email you my address and how to get there.’

I saw her out and got back to work, still just a little bit off-balance after hearing her news. Pascale about to be married… the idea was so strange. But not that surprising really, I admitted to myself. What else was she going to do? Pretty girl, a year or so older than me, probably starting to think about having a family – the chap was a few years older than her, she’d said – she wasn’t by any means the first of my friends to get hitched. I wondered if I’d get an invitation to the wedding.