by Gill Laverick

“He’s here again, “my Mother used to yell up the stairs “William Dobbin has come for you” But it was a few years until I read Vanity Fair and so the reference was lost on me. It was a classic scenario, the hero handsome but arrogant, attended by his honourable but plain companion. “You’d better bring your crash helmet; he is on his trusty steed” “Isn’t it great” I would say to him “That we can be friends like this, a man and a woman, without sex rearing its ugly head? I feel that I can tell you anything. Best friends forever” and handsome but arrogant was so convinced of his alpha male status that he would leave us alone for hours, days, weeks at a time, secure in the knowledge that his stunning good looks would keep me on a short leash, and it did, at first. But there are more things to keep the world turning than a man with a pretty face and a prettier turn of phrase. “He doesn’t treat you right” he would say to me “you let him walk all over you” and although it was true, it was one of those things that couldn’t be helped, we would all have to learn to live with it. When the motorbike hit the side of the car everything slowed right down. It was quiet too, although the people looked like they were yelling the words were indistinguishable. But I heard him; he said “Where is she? Is she alright?” As they lifted him onto the stretcher and hauled him into the ambulance he said “Where is she? Is she alright?” and as they took him off to fix him up “Where is she?......” I wondered about the nature of friendship and thought about loyalty. And when handsome but arrogant said “I can’t speak now, I’m busy, you’ll have to call again tomorrow” I thought about the men with pretty faces and a prettier turn of phrase and the others who have to get by using other means. Necessity is the mother of invention after all. When they met again he said, clearly nervous, from his hospital bed “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it, it wasn’t my fault” afraid perhaps of repercussions or the display of anger he would have felt, but there was no need for his concerns. Handsome but arrogant replied, puzzled that I could be viewed as precious by someone, by anyone “That’s alright” he smiled “It was an accident, accidents happen”. Although when he smiled, it was because he was secure in the knowledge that accidents didn’t happen to him. And the kaleidoscope turns and there is a moment of clarity. Handsome but arrogant, so wrapped up in his own world, a lifetime of orbiting, occasionally allowed a crumb from his table, a pat on the head. Or the alternative, an earthy relationship, sweaty, rooted in friendship, respect, love but mostly laughter - and how we do laugh “How did we ever think that we could be friends, a man and a woman, without sex rearing its ugly head?”  And still after decades I feel that I can tell you anything. Best friends forever. “I knew he would get you in the end” Mother said “– Faithful Dobbin always does”