4.
It is a couple of months later when Oliver gets to speak to her again.
It starts with several frantic bangs on Oliver’s hotel room door at eleven thirty at night, making him jump off the bed in shock. He opens the door to reveal a forlorn looking James, who exclaims,
“Phone charger!” with no offered explanation.
“I’m sorry?” Oliver splutters, leaping out of the way as James barges into his room, “what’s wrong?”
“Phone charger!” James cries again, waving his iPhone in Oliver’s face, “I’ve gone and left mine at home, why am I such an idiot?! No, Oliver Haydon, don’t answer that, just give me your bloody phone charger.”
Oliver blinks a couple of times, before taking the phone from James’s hand and flipping it over in his hands.
“My charger won’t work on this,” he says slowly, “this thing is way too high tech for me.”
It is James’s turn to blink stupidly as he says,
“What are you talking about?”
“My phone’s a brick,” Oliver explains, “I’ve had it since I was about sixteen.”
And he is proud of this fact, stupidly so in fact- his brother has been through about ten different phones, forever losing them, breaking them, washing them and Oliver often finds himself wondering how people go through so many.
“Can I borrow your phone then?”
“Um… what for?” Oliver asks, fishing the device out of his pocket and cradling it to his chest. He is aware that he looks completely ridiculous, but he just can’t help himself.
“Amy,” James says, as if this explains everything, “she is incredibly demanding.”
Sighing reluctantly, Oliver extends his arm, offering his phone to his colleague.
“Don’t break it,” he begs, “and don’t rack up a massive phone bill.”
“’Course I won’t!” James says, looking positively wounded, “would I ever?”
Oliver’s answer is lost, as the door slams shut behind the blonde.
-x-
Oliver doesn’t see his phone until the next morning when the knock on the door drags him out of bed.
“James,” he says sleepily, “you know it’s my day off yeah?”
“Sorry,” James replies quickly, “just came to return this.”
He presses the phone into Oliver’s hand and turns on his heel, throwing a casual,
“See you later,” over his shoulder as he goes.
Oliver shakes his head before settling back under the covers of the hotel bed and succumbing to their warmth. He knows that he probably won’t be able to get back to sleep, he has always been like that; never been able to sleep in and once awake he stayed awake. He laughs as he remembers how angry his mother used to get on weekends when he would bound into his parents’ room at 5.00 in the morning, full of beans and ready to go. It was a nice memory- his mother never stayed angry for long, less than two minutes in fact after which she would tuck him under her arm, pulling the covers over them both. He misses being four years old, when everything seemed so much easier and nothing seemed as scary or real as it would a few years later.
His eyes are about to close when his phone vibrates on the bedside table.
He could ignore it and normally, he would, but something makes him withdraw his hand from his warm cocoon of covers and pick up the old device in his fingers.
Wanker, the text says, give Oliver his phone and get to work.
It takes him a whole minute before he realises it’s Amy.
He’s gone! He types back, this is Ollie now. Sleep time!
Sorry I woke you. Thank you for looking after Jamie, he’s hopeless. A x
He smiles like an idiot and closes his eyes.
He vaguely wonders if girls have some kind of magic thumbs, which enable them to text ridiculously fast before sleep takes him.
-x-
“He’s lost weight since I last saw him,” Amy says offhandedly to James as she clings onto his arm. James is too busy using his other hand to carefully manoeuvre a champagne glass to his lips to notice what his friend is saying. Amy elbows him in the ribs.
“Ow... what?!” James yelps as liquid drips onto his suit.
“Oliver. He’s lost weight since I last saw him.”
James looks over to where the dark haired man is talking to someone he doesn’t recognize and simply shrugs, whilst trying to work out why this would be important to his best friend.
“He’s always been skinny. Anyway, the last time you saw him was nearly six months ago. And he was just going through a door, so I don’t know how you saw anything.”
“J,” Amy says, turning to face her friend with raised eyebrows, “he walked straight past us. I would have had to be blind not to see him.”
James has a sharp retort on the tip of his tongue, but clamps his mouth shut when he looks over Amy’s shoulder and sees Oliver approaching them.
“See who?”
“You.” James says smugly, gripping Amy’s shoulders to turn her towards the man who has suddenly appeared behind her.
“What about me?” Oliver asks, a look of confusion spreading across his features. Amy shoots James a warning glare before turning to the other man and extending a hand.
“I’m Amabelle,” she smiles, “James is obviously too rude and too tipsy to introduce us.”
“Oliver Haydon. James’s mentioned you before,” Oliver says, taking her hand and shaking it politely. The truth is, he knows who she is, has seen the way she interacts with his colleague, but he doesn’t want to risk sounding like a complete stalker by saying something like, ‘Oh, I know, I’ve seen you before.’ He figures that, ‘James has mentioned you before,’ is a fairly safe option and he internally congratulates himself when the moment passes without incident.
“Oh dear... that doesn’t bode well for me!” Amy laughs and Oliver lets out a low chuckle.
“I’ll have you know that I was perfectly nice about you because I’m a nice and considerate person,” James pouts indignantly, making Oliver and Amy laugh once again.
“Is he this big headed on set?” Amy asks Oliver, a twinkle in her eye, “Because if he is, I don’t know how you all put up with him.”
“Nancy says we should get paid extra for working with him,” Oliver grins.
“Who?” Amy asks.
“’Nancy’, Amy, he said Nancy. It’s okay, when I first met him I couldn’t understand what he was saying either,” James informs her, slinging a loose arm around the taller mans shoulders.
“Don’t be so rude,” Amy chastises him, “I simply meant I’ve never met Nancy so I don’t know who she is.”
James has the courtesy to blush and Oliver chuckles awkwardly.
It is the party to celebrate the end of filming for series one of, ‘The Noble Art of Living’, the drama series that had been in progress for the past eight months; set in the nineteenth century, it explores every aspect of forbidden and unrequited love, as well as what happens when a dictator of a father tries to force his youngest son into living the life he has planned for him. The series had been filmed in a large country house located in Suffolk, with its surrounding grounds and forests. They have also become regulars at, ‘Le Clemenceau Chateau’, France, making use of the scenic backdrop and stony corridors.
James has somehow managed to persuade Amy to come along to the wrap party, by using unhealthy amounts of bribery and flattery- she has hated these large events for as long as she can remember, always feeling out of place; like she doesn’t belong, but when James offers to buy her the shoes she has had her eye on for the past month and a half, she caves and agrees to go with him.
Oliver stays with them for the majority of the evening, making jokes with James as the two consume more and more alcohol, losing their inhibitions as it floods through their systems.
“James,” Amy says as they reach the early hours of the morning, “I think we should think about going soon. It’s getting quite late and we’re meant to be going out for breakfast tomorrow and we can’t do that if you’re stuck in bed with a hangover!”
“Wait,” Oliver says his eyes comically wide as James turns to leave, “I still need to find my phone. I was trying to show Jaz a magic trick and now I can’t find it. Isn’t that so cool?” He is slurring his words and James leans against the wall for support as he rolls his eyes at his friend. “I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Amy says, giving James’s arm a tug, “but we really have to go.”
“Alright,” James says, before turning back to face his friend. “See you later Oll,” he says loudly, lifting an arm to slap Oliver on the back. At the very last second Oliver moves to the side, which means that James’s hand comes into contact with the dark haired man’s face instead of his back and Oliver yelps in pain.
“Oh, shit!” James says as Oliver staggers, “Sorry mate! Let me help you...” he blunders quickly forwards, the alcohol flowing round his own body is making his movements unsteady. The two men walk smack into each other, tripping over a chair and land on the floor. Amy is left standing, staring at the two men who have started to laugh uncontrollably at her feet. She jumps as she feels a hand on her shoulder.
“Need any help?”
She turns to see Anthony standing behind her, looking at the scene before them in amusement.
“No, it’s okay,” Amy replies, “I’ve had plenty of experience.”
Anthony simply laughs and helps Amy to pull James to his feet, staggering under his weight.
“Come on,” she says, “we’re going home. We’ll give Oliver a lift to wherever he needs to go, but we have to go now.”
“Okay, okay,” James retorts, holding his hands up in a form of surrender. “Let’s go then.” He extends his arm to Oliver, who takes it and allows himself to be pulled into a standing position.
“See you soon Jazzer,” Anthony says as they pass him, and James gives him a friendly wave.
When they finally make it to the car, Amy is unable to get Oliver’s address out of him; the Irishman simply breaks into peals of laughter every time Amy repeats the question.
“Oh come on!” she finally snaps at James, “You must know it! You’ve spent the last eight months working together!” James shakes his head.
“I’m sorry! I don’t know it!”
Amy slams her hands down on the steering wheel in frustration.
“We’ll take him back to ours then,” she says.
James doesn’t dare argue.
-x-
“I think the funniest part was the next morning when I got that phone call saying ‘help me James! I think I’ve been kidnapped!’” here, James puts on an exaggerated Irish accent, which brings laughter from the two girls sitting at the table and causes a hint of colour to tint the Irish mans high cheekbones.
Three weeks have gone by since the wrap party and James takes great pleasure in reciting the story of how a very hung-over Oliver Haydon had failed to see the note James had left when he and Amy had left the house and had rung up the former in a panic.
The brunette girl laughs.
“Well you should have made is more obvious James,” Rebecca says, taking a sip of water, shooting Oliver a sympathetic look. It is the first time the two have met and Becca can’t help but watch the other man carefully. Somewhere between the party and that very moment, ‘James and Amy’ have suddenly become, ‘James, Amy and Oliver.’ Becca doesn’t mind; Oliver seems shy, reserved. He hasn’t spoken much and has spent the majority of the evening pushing his food around his plate. Becca and Amy go back since their schooldays and she is glad that there is finally a fourth member of their group so she no longer feels like such a third wheel when they all go out together.
At the end of the evening, when James goes up to pay and Amy excuses herself to go to the bathroom, Becca is left with Oliver. As a waiter arrives to take away their plates, Becca notices that his plate is almost still full.
“Not hungry?” she questions him. Oliver flushes and shakes his head.
“I ate stuff before we came out...” he says. Becca nods, easily disguising the fact that she doesn’t buy his excuse.
“I’m a doctor,” she says slowly. It isn’t exactly true, she’s still in training, but it has the desired effect. Oliver looks at her and when she doesn’t continue, he visibly swallows and replies,
“I’m an actor...”
He seems to almost jump with relief as James returns to the table, followed swiftly by Amy.
“Shall we go then?” James asks, slipping on his leather jacket before helping his best friend in to hers, “Back to mine and Amy’s?”
-x-
They arrive back at the spacious flat and Becca and Amy retire to Amy’s bedroom to catch up with various aspects of their lives; mainly, ‘who’s sleeping with who,’ and ‘the – new – guy – who – happens – to – be - shadowing – Brenda – at – work – called – Tom.’ Such topics are of no interest to the boys, so they let them go without a word. James pulls out the sofa bed before standing back and proudly saying,
“There you go Ollie. Wanna watch some TV before bed?”
Oliver shrugs his ‘why not’ and settles back against the many cushions.
“So...” Oliver finds himself asking as James flicks aimlessly through the channels, “you and Amy...”
James doesn’t even look up from the magazine he’s reading, and Oliver has to repeat his name several times before he gets a response.
“Sorry!” James says, tossing the offending item onto the coffee table, “what did you say?”
Oliver rolls his eyes.
“You and Amy... how long have you been... you know...” he makes wild gestures with his hands, long fingers trying to speak the words he cannot say.
“Since she was 16,” James says, turning his attention to his phone, “so a long time. Her parents were always quite worried about it I think, but they trust me, so it didn’t take much to convince them.”
“Oh,” Oliver says, unable to say anything else, “oh... that really is a long time.”
“I thought you knew that?” James said, finally looking up to meet Oliver’s eyes, “I’m sure you knew that.”
Oliver shakes his head. How was he supposed to know that James and Amy had been seeing each other for that long? He hadn’t even known that they were a couple, even though he had had his suspicions.
“She’s threatened to leave once or twice before though,” James now laughs, “she doesn’t like the way I leave bits of paper and old scripts lying around the place. I mean, it could be worse.... I could not wash up or do any laundry or leave the toilet seat up or something... it’s not like we live in total squalor.”
Oliver laughs.
“So her parents always approved of this?”
James shrugs.
“They were hesitant about it at first but not anymore. She’s an adult. She can live with whoever she wants.”
Oliver’s expression rapidly changes into one of confusion.
“What... you... wait, what are you talking about?”
James looks at him like he is stupid and Oliver can’t help but squirm slightly under his gaze.
“You asked how long Amy and I have been living together. I told you and you then proceeded to repeat the same question over and over again. Do I have to tell you again or do you think you’ve got your head around it now?”
Oliver is so confused he can’t even utter a word.
“You are a strange, strange man,” James says with a hint of wonder and vague disbelief.
“No!” Oliver exclaims, “I meant how long have you been... how long have... for god’s sake James I don’t care about your living arrangements! I thought you two were... you know... together!”
James really looks at him then, before tossing his head back and bursting into great guffaws of laughter. He laughs until he is red in the face and he can’t breathe.
“You thought... you thought we were... oh my god Oliver Haydon that is priceless!!”
Oliver can feel his face flaming and he scowls at his friend. It had seemed to be a perfectly reasonable question, and he tells James this.
“You live together. You always text her and you called her every day! You can’t blame me for assuming that you two were an item, when you look at each other like you want to throw caution to the wind and start shagging in the middle of the room! Plus,” he adds as an afterthought, “you’ve never mentioned any other girls before, so don’t look at me like I’ve just made a really stupid comment, because I know that I haven’t.”
James has stopped laughing now and is biting his lower lip.
“You’re funny,” he says softly, “but we aren’t together. We used to be... a long time ago. But not anymore. Anyway, Aims has always been funny with people... so if... even if there... well...”
He trails off and Oliver feels as if he has strayed too far, like he has broached upon a subject that is not his business and he’s about to apologise, when James says,
“Yeah. Although we do go way back. We’ve lived together since I was eight. When mum and dad... when they...”
He seems to trail off, lost in thought and Oliver pushes himself forward in his seat. James has never offered any information about his family and Oliver has never asked.
“My parents died when I was eight years old,” James says quietly. “They went to work and they just... they never came home. I was left at school for hours because nobody came to collect me. I still remember...” He isn’t looking at Oliver; his eyes are fixed on a point somewhere to the left of the television screen. Oliver can see, so clearly, an eight year old James sitting in the school foyer, alone save for a couple of teachers whose job it is to see the students home safely.
“What happened?” he finds himself asking. He doesn’t know why he does; the words just seem to slip out of his mouth before he can stop them.
“Sorry,” he mumbles.
“It’s fine,” James says gruffly, “it was a long time ago. Well... my parents had named Amy’s my guardians... and vice versa. So I went to live with her family. I just remember these people came to me and told me that my parents had died in hospital. I don’t know if they were telling the truth, I never really found out what actually happened. Still made me shit scared of hospitals though.” James breaks off with a shaky laugh, clearing his throat before carrying on. “I guess it didn’t really hit me until I was about 15. I nearly screwed up on all of my GCSE’s because I just... I don’t know. Amy’s mum always jokes around about it and says I was, ‘discovering myself,’ but I know I put the whole family through absolute hell. I just... it’s the whole cliché, ‘falling in with the wrong crowd’ type thing. By the end of that phase I had been put in hospital three times to have my stomach pumped. But then Amy... she… well, Ol, this isn’t my story to tell and I don’t know if she’d…”
“It’s fine,” Oliver says gruffly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to press.”
“No, no, it’s in the past. Well… Amabelle saw too much too quickly. She had too much to deal with and she didn’t know how. She, um, tried to kill herself actually. Then it was like something had just... I don’t know... broken. I broke. It was my fault, I know it was and she just looked so, so… I’ll never forget her, lying there, so still, so… she just never got better. She’s fine, mostly, but that well and truly messed her up.” James sniffs slightly and Oliver is almost scared to look up, worried that his friend is crying. However when he finally does, James’s eyes are completely dry. He just shrugs and says, “Yeah. Well, she spent a few months in hospital arguing with all the nurses and doctors, I scraped my exams and begged Amy’s parents to let me go to drama school. They said yes, I got a part time job and then as soon as I was 18, I moved in here.”
Oliver looks around at the spacious apartment, which can only be described as magnificent; decorated in a modern fashion, all white walls and white carpets, black ornaments with only the occasional splashes of colour- rich emeralds, royal blues and regal reds. On one side, there is no wall, only an enormous window that stretches from floor to ceiling, looking out onto the whole of London. The flat has two bedrooms- James’s and Amy’s, but the sofa pulls out into what can only be described as a ‘double bed’ and Oliver has spent many a night on it. The kitchen opens up into the main living area and a corridor branches off to the side, where the two bedrooms and two bathrooms are. The flat takes up the majority of the top floor of the building, and Oliver is somewhat in awe.
“But... how did you afford this place when you were eighteen?” he asks incredulously, looking at the luxurious furniture, the rugs, vases and artwork that seem to have money written all over them.
James blushes.
“Well... Amy’s dad worked for this massive electricity company and her mother is a pianist. They’re a rich family and they took me in like a son. They bought me the flat for my eighteenth birthday. They er... they still pay for most of it actually, but I pay for most of the bills now. It sounds a lot... but they’ve been good to me. Anyway, when she turned 16, Amy spent more time here than at our family home. Then as soon as she was eighteen, she moved in with me.”
Oliver shakes his head, eyes still wide.
“I can’t... woah. That’s...”
James lets out a short laugh and lightly punches him on the shoulder, moving to stand up from his chair.
“So in answer to your question, no, Amy and I are definitely not together. ‘nother beer mate?”