by L. C White
“I really don’t want to know,” I cringe.
“Sweetie, eighteen gold carat plated those,” she says. “Thought they’d look good on your bedpost… of course, just for show.”
“Well, you really didn’t need to.” I drop the cuffs in my handbag.
***
Geoff has the Christmas music up high, while entertaining Uncle Jim and Aunt Carol in the lounge. The table has been dressed with silver and white in the conservatory, and the house smells delicious.
I help Mum with the plates in the kitchen, then begin to spoon the different vegetables into separate serving dishes. She takes the huge turkey out of the oven, and starts to scoop out the stuffing. I’m quiet, and she knows there’s something wrong. It’s unlike her not to have begun to interrogate me already.
I pace around the oval table arranging the plates, when the song Last Christmas comes on. I loathe the song. But for some stupid pathetic reason, it’s reminding me of him; when he came to my rescue at Finley’s. I slam down the last plate. Damn you Adrien, leave me alone.
“Careful,” Mum squeaks.
“Sorry.”
“You think I don’t know what’s wrong with my baby girl,” Mum casually says, placing the bowl of piping hot stuffing on the table. “You’re in love.”
“Mum… I am not!”
“That pent up anger.” Her eyes widen. “You’re in a world of your own, and you persistently lying is a dead giveaway.” She holds the back on the chair, staring, with her long layered red hair hanging over her shoulder. “There’s always a few volatile fallouts at the beginning of any relationship.”
How does she do it? She gets all that from me not opening my mouth. I can’t have secrets or heartache. She’s got radar.
“Who is he, Mummy will find out?”
“It doesn’t matter now,” I whine, not wanting her counsel. “I don’t want to talk about it Mum, so please, let’s try and have a nice day.”
“Well, on a scale of one to ten, how good is he?”
Okay, this is getting to be as ridiculous as the rampant rabbit last year. What kind of personal question is that to ask your own Daughter? Instead of going to an empowering sex seminar, maybe she should have gone to parenting do’s and don’ts. Because asking me that, is a definite don’t.
“Mum!” I growl.
She laughs. “Perhaps an eight then.” She toddles back into the kitchen.
He was off the scale Mum. In fact there’s no way on this earth to measure how good he was. How can I miss someone, and hate them at the same time? I miss the sex. God, I’d give anything to feel his touch on my skin; my hands skimming around his waist and back. I can still sense the way he felt on my fingertips. His velvety, firm, statuesque like body. The curves of his chest, and the soft fine hair on the back of his neck. Shit, I’m so screwed up right now.
Eventually, like always, and way off Mum’s schedule, we’re all sat down, tucking into dinner. Uncle Jim and Aunt Carol are always the same. And this year they seem to be trying to outshine their previous attempts to slate all Mum’s hard work. Critics. They like to compare, and offer their opinion because they are the kind of people who can always go one better. Mum cooks her potatoes in goose fat, whereas Carol will cook hers in liquid gold. Until both of them have been ploughed with wine, they are intolerable to be around.
“Okay, crackers,” Mum laughs, and I know that laugh, she’s up to something. “Come on,” she says excitedly.
I pick up my cracker, and we all cross hands at the table to pull at the same time. The pops sound around the room as the contents drop from the silver tubes. Oh my god, she hasn’t. I glug down my full glass of wine, noticing the very inappropriate items on the white tablecloth.
Carol picks up the deep purple ring, and begins to swish it around on her forefinger. Shit, she has absolutely no idea what it is. I sink into my chair as Mum sniggers.
“So, what is this for?” she asks, still swishing away.
Uncle Jim takes his prize in his hand. It’s a tiny tube of lube. He quickly puts it in his pocket and winks at me. He’s finding Carol’s unaware innocence hilarious.
“It’s a finger exerciser love,” he giggles, holding back the tears. “Feel those muscles working.”
Discreetly, I cover my tiny pink pleasure wand up with my napkin and scowl at Mum. Not one year since she’s opened Tickles You Toys, have I got away with not having some sex toy or game, shoved down my throat.
“Finger exerciser eh.” Carol stares at it. “Never heard of them.”
She pulls out the tiny instruction paper from within the cracker, while everyone around the table, apart from me, waits for her to click. As she reads, her blue lined eyelids open to full stretch.
“It’s an exerciser alright. Sure you can get Jim here to show you later how it works.” Geoff laughs riotously, as Carol tosses it across the table in disgust.
“I should have known it would be something filthy from you,” Carol whines. “Having a little decorum at the dining table. No chance of that here.”
“Oh stop being so uptight Carol. If I remember rightly, last year we had to restrain you from stripping off to Santa baby,” Mum says to a reddening Carol. “So shut up, and eat your pudding.”
Usually Geoff wash’s the dishes, but I volunteered. I’d rather be stuck in this hot messy kitchen scrubbing grease and burnt fat from trays, than out there playing happy families. I’ve been in here nearly one hour now, and have only just begun to touch the sides.
Mum comes in with a merry glow. She leans against the archway that leads out to the conservatory. She watches contently as I shuffle around the damp black floor tiles, putting away dishes to make room to wash more.
“Why don’t you leave it… come and join us,” she pleads. “Geoff’s about to give his rendition of the power of love,” she smiles. “You know how he likes an audience.”
“When I’ve finished Mum.” I can’t look at her, she can read me too well.
“Would you like a drink, you’ve only had two glasses… tis the season.” She waves her glass. “I don’t like this… you’re all depressed.” She sways back and forth.
If she doesn’t leave me alone, I’m going to yell at her any second. I’ll scream this frigging funhouse down.
“Talk to me, please sweetheart,” she implores.
That’s it. I’m losing the will to live here. Every time someone tries to break me open, it’s bringing him to the forefront of my mind.
I chuck the roasting trays into the cupboard and slam the door as the tears over him return. I didn’t want this today. I should have known it would happen. I should have cancelled Christmas like Cate’s Mum did.
I hold the hob and bend, unable to breathe through the wound he’s caused inside my chest.
“Honey.” Mum rushes over and rubs my back. “I’ll bloody kill him.” She means that to. “Who is he, tell me what he did to you?”
I puff out and raise my head high. “Mum… I’ve been an idiot.”
“No you have not… it’s not Nathan again is it?”
“No.” I laugh and sob simultaneously. “God no.”
“Well, who’s made you like this; did he hit you, cheat on you?”
I gather my thoughts. If I don’t, I will end up spilling the beans, and I really don’t need her advice on relationships. I don’t even know if that’s what Adrien and I had. I’m unsure of it all.
“I’m fine Mum.” I wipe my cheeks with my wrist. “I’ll be in soon.”
She screws up her face, unhappy with my stubbornness to keep him a secret. “Oh Lizzy, when did we get to the point we couldn’t talk openly,” she saddens. “We’ve always talked. I know sometimes I can be a touch over the top, and think I know best, but don’t ever think you can’t chat with me about anything.” She picks up her glass, and now I feel worse than what I did.
“Mum,” I call, before she leaves. “His name is Adrien Knight, and he was so much more than a ten.” I faintly grin.
“
Oh.” Her eyes widen. “The rich yank in property who’s only been here for two minutes… seriously?” she stares.
“Yep, that’s the guy. But I don’t even want to think about him anymore, so let’s just do Christmas eh.” I pick up a bottle of chardonnay with my name on it.
As soon as my butt hits the form of the suede brown sofa, Nathan walks in. Great. Well, I have wine. I’ll just sit here and drink away quietly, while they all deafen me on the karaoke.
He trudges behind me carrying a crate of beer. His pupils twirl, indicating it was his dad’s idea, not his. I guess I should go easy on him. He’s not done anything wrong, apart from trying to look out for me. This is what Adrien has done, made me into some unreasonable fuck-up. Well Adrien, you are now going to vacate my head thanks to this wine, and not come back. I hoist my glass discreetly. Goodbye Mr Knight.
Chapter 17: The Offering
Why the hell did I consume all that wine? Oh god, I didn’t. I vaguely remember belting out my version of Beyoncé’s Listen. Nathan holding my hair back as I projectile vomited in the bathroom sink. Oh shit, I was sobbing on his damn shoulder.
I scrunch up my eyes and force my dying body upright, licking my dry lips because of the rancid taste in my mouth. Did I actually lick an ashtray last night? I breathe in and out a few times, fighting to keep my eyelids open. The winter sun spills through the wafer thin grey curtains of my old bedroom. I’m completely disgusted with myself. But I should have known, Nathan was here and he’s a bad influence on me.
“Lizzy, Lizzy,” I hear Mum yelling.
Oh, I really don’t want to move today. I fall back onto my pillows, ignoring her.
“Lizzy!” I squint, noticing her voice is coming from the window.
“Okay,” I moan out in pain.
I fling my green duvet on the floor, rubbing my gritty swollen eyes as I slowly stand. I tug the curtains just a little to see Mum outside, standing in an inch of snow, wearing her sunglasses and puffy padded coat. What is she doing; has she not been to bed yet?
She looks up at my bedroom window and throws her arms out to the side. Baffled, I pull the curtains wide-open, to see there’s a brand new, charcoal colour car, parked on the drive.
“What the hell.”
I quickly stagger, slipping my brown boots over my cotton pyjama bottoms, while clumsily grabbing my coat.
Out of breath, I race downstairs and out through the front door. I trip and skid in the snow, while clutching my coat together because it’s freezing. Mum dances side to side, smiling at it. I don’t know whose car it is. Perhaps she’s been entering one of those daytime television competitions again, and actually won this time.
“Mum?”
She lumbers, giggling. “Looks like Santa’s left a belated present,” she sings.
“Mum,” I huff, with the most horrendous head pain.
She hands me an envelope with my name printed on the front. I study it for a moment, then rip it open, frantically. I take out the thick paper, and unfold to read:
Dear Elizabeth
I note to wish you a Merry Christmas. I sincerely hope you are well, and hope you don’t mind the gift. But when I saw it, I thought of you. All the relative documents are in the glove box.
Deepest regards
A. Knight.
I drop the letter down by my side and gape at the brand new Jeep Cherokee. Same car I drove in Killiecrankie. I’m totally lost for words. What kind of letter is this anyway? Relative documents and regards. It’s shit, cold, and formal. Come to think of it, how did he know where I’d be staying? I never told him my mum’s address.
“Wow… honey this is one grand gesture,” Mum beams.
It is. It’s just a gesture. A meaningless gift. And why? So he can keep me on my toes, on his hook, waiting to reel me in when he wants. I wanted him that’s all. This car is worth jack-squat to me. In anger, I rip the note up into small pieces, and scatter it in the snow.
I charge into the house. He’s not even called me, and he sends me a frigging car. Well he can have it back.
I pace up and down before the black fire surround. I really cannot describe how mad I am.
Geoff descends the open staircase half-asleep. “How are we all feeling this morning?”
I was rather delicate when I woke, but now, I’m steaming with this red rage. I’m extremely pissed-off, and woe betide anyone who tries to tell me to accept it.
“Lizzy’s fella…”
Mum has that very wrong. “He is not!”
“Well, he left a gift on the drive for her.” She points outside. “And she’s not best pleased with it.”
Geoff looks through the door. “Well that’s the biggest sweetener I’ve ever seen.”
“I think it’s generous,” Mum adds. “Why don’t you have a nice hot coffee, and have a think about it,” she says.
I stomp to the stairs. “There’s nothing to think about because I’m taking it back.”
I’m washed and dressed in record time to say I’m hung-over. I zip up my overnight bag and bounce down the stairs with it. Mum sits on the sofa quietly, still in her huge coat. I know what’s coming. She might be the kind of person to forgive and forget after receiving some flashy gift, but I’m not.
“Mum, where are the keys?” I wave my fingers.
She pulls them out of her pocket and holds them up. I snatch them, and walk to the door with tunnel vision.
“Hold on,” she yells, jumping up to hustle around the back of the sofa. “Please calm down. You go out there driving like a woman possessed, you’ll get pulled over.” She hugs me tight.
“Mum, I’ll be fine.”
“You don’t look it,” she worries. “I don’t want a phone call telling me my daughter has wrapped her car around a tree.”
She’s right, and is only concerned. But I can’t sit here with that monstrosity of a gift anywhere near me. It has to go back.
“Sorry Mum,” I calm. “I promise you, I’ll be fine… okay?”
“Fine, but you call me… let me know you’re safe.” She pecks my cheek.
I nod in agreement. I will try to take her advice on bored, no matter how difficult it is. I’m just going to drive the car back to the city, and hand it over. Soothing thoughts Liz. You can do this.
I get into the car and immediately it brings back memories of Scotland. Even the smell of it is stirring my emotions. And it’s also automatic, which I’m presuming Adrien chose for safety reasons.
***
The streets are busy. The Boxing Day sales have brought all those who were well behaved yesterday, out of the woodwork for a bargain. Due to me not having residential access, I’ve had to park the car at Guy’s hospital, which is a three minute walk away from The Shard. A walk that seems to be taking me a lifetime. I’m cold, stressed, and have absolutely no idea how I’ll react when I see him. The good part of my conscience is telling me to be civil. And the ruthless, tells me to hit him hard in the face.
I dash up the stairs and through the giant glass doors. There’s no other way. I have to go through reception. The elevator below the building, takes residents straight to their apartment, and I don’t have that option right now.
I move across the glossy floor, bumping into tourists as I try to figure out where I’m supposed to go. I’ve never been in this part of the building and feel lost. Finally, I spot it; the long grey reception desk.
I’m clammy, and this hangover is beginning to take its toll. As the pretty receptionist smiles politely, showing her bleached teeth, I become overly aware I’m not looking my best today.
“Welcome to the shard,” she says. “Will you be dining in one of our restaurants, or taking in the view from one of our balconies,” she grins, revealing more twinkling teeth.
Do I look like I want to eat in a five star restaurant; alone, hung-over, furious, and heartbroken. No lady! You push your little buttons for me, and call apartment thirty-three.
I curve my lips into a fabricated smile. “Please could you
buzz apartment thirty-three, and tell Mr Knight that Miss Lovell is here to see him.”
“Oh.” She shakes her head. “Mr Knight dined with colleagues, and left a few hours ago, Miss.”
I growl out. She can see I’m in no mood for this. I squeeze the edge of the desk, and push myself back.
“When will he be back; do you know?”
“No Miss.” She angles her chest back. “I can take a message if you like,” she says, vigilantly.
“No,” I snap. “Thanks anyway… Oh, do you know by any chance who he was with?”
“He was with his PA.”
Slutty Sara; he’s eating out alone with her?
“Oh, well that’s just fantastic,” I utter, turning sharply.
I’m back at the car before I know it. I think I actually jogged here. Maybe I should have handed the keys over to the receptionist at The Shard, and left his car here in the hospital car park. Why should I care if he gets a ticket, or the car gets clamped? But it’s too late now. I’m not going back into that building.
There’s only one person who can help me out; who has the info I need, Nathan. I know he’s been to Sara’s place. I slam the door, take out my mobile phone, and scroll to his name.
“Hey,” Nathan grunts. “What’s up?” Crap, I’ve woke him up. “Good night last night.” I know he wants to tell me all about my drunken antics, but it’s not going to happen.
“Nathan, where does slutty Sara live?” I ask quickly.
I hear him shuffle and yawn. “Liz… why the hell do you want to know that?”
I can’t tell him I’m driving this brand new car back to Adrien. It’s a gift, and I don’t want it. I can’t bring his name up. He’ll question, and go on and on. Especially after I probably called Adrien all the names under the sun last night. He’ll be here within minutes if he finds out what’s happened. He’s been looking for an excuse to go all fisticuffs with Adrien, and this will provide him with one. I have to come up with an excuse. He still thinks I’m at my mums. Think Liz, think.
“Err… I have some correspondence I need to post to her.” My body scrunches right back into the seat. I’m such an awful liar.