Much Ado About Sweet Nothing

by Alison May

  I sit back down again, and physically lift his hand off my leg. ‘I’m straight.’

  He shrugs. ‘I’m not trying to turn you. Just fun.’

  He’s slurring his words. When he leans towards me I can see the trail of spit hanging off his upper lip.

  I point towards the dance floor, where Danny is shaking his thang with a gloriously tipsy gaggle of middle-aged teachers. This time I do manage to stand up. ‘I’m straight. You’re with Danny. End of.’

  I walk away towards the bar. I’m actually pretty pleased with the ‘End of’ – I think it sounds kind of cool and street. I get into the queue huddle and try to look casually back towards the table. The new, apparent, love of Danny’s life has disappeared. John. He seems to have turned up in Danny’s life pretty much out of nowhere, and has gone from ‘guy I’m sort of seeing’ to permanent resident in Danny’s home in about three weeks straight. They’re already referring to it as ‘our’ house. It’s not theirs; it’s Danny’s. So far as I can tell John’s not working, so I assume he’s not paying either.

  It’s taking forever to get served, which is a relief. It gives me an excuse not to fling myself back into circulation anytime soon.

  By the time the crowd shifts me close enough to the bar to start the silent nightclub ‘want to buy a drink’ mime, I’ve calmed down a bit about John. I mean, Danny tried it on when we first met. Ok, so John’s older, and living with my mate, but still. I’m probably overreacting, and on that basis, I conclude, I don’t need to say anything to Danny about it. Just a misunderstanding. Better forgotten, I think.

  I feel someone dragging on my T-shirt from behind. I turn my head and see Danny leaning past about eight other people to get my attention. He mimes raising a glass to his lips, and I nod. He holds up five fingers and gestures to the group behind him, who I’m fairly sure aren’t people he knew when we arrived here tonight. I nod and get my wallet out.

  I manage to drag Danny out of the club at about twenty past two, on the grounds that none of us have any money left. At first he’s adamant that we’re going to the cashpoint and then heading back to another club, but I tell him that it’s time for bed. John sort of shambles along after us, walking four paces behind and never joining in the conversation.

  Once we get back I head straight to bed on the fold-out sofa in Danny’s spare room. The combination of the time and the alcohol sends me straight to sleep, which sounds much better than admitting that I all but pass out.

  I wake up suddenly and for a moment I’m not sure why. There’s a digital clock on the floor next to the bed which tells me it’s now 4.12am. As I turn back over I see that I’m not alone in the room. John is standing very still over by the door, still wearing the clothes from last night. I register that that’s weird, but he doesn’t give me much time to think about it. As I sit up in bed he lunges across the room, so by the time I realise he’s going to hit me I can’t even get my arms out from the duvet to protect myself. He punches me, once, hard in the face, and I fall backwards slamming my cheek into the upright back of the sofa bed. I don’t speak and shout or move or anything, and I have no idea why not. John is kneeling on the bed now. He slams his forearm hard across my chest and with his other hand he squashes my face against the sofa.

  ‘I know why you dumped that stupid bint. I know why you keep coming around here. You think I don’t see but I see everything. You’re not welcome.’

  He presses his arm harder across my chest.

  ‘Do I make myself clear?’

  I don’t answer. I can’t answer, but he seems satisfied that he’s made his point. Without saying anything else, he just lets go of me and walks out of the room. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t actually seem that angry, as though beating up houseguests in the night is just a minor inconvenience of playing host, like having to make up the spare bed, or being expected to provide interminable cups of tea.

  I don’t sleep so well after that. I spend the whole night running it over and over in my head, trying to work out what I’m going to tell Danny, when I’m going to tell him. I realise it has to be straight away. I know that I have no choice. If I don’t tell him the next morning, I never will.

  I force myself to stay in bed until I hear Danny moving around. As soon as I do hear him I switch from being desperate to talk to him, to wanting to hide in bed for as long as I can. I know I have to get up but my body won’t co-operate. I consciously make myself move.

  I go downstairs, and they’re both in the kitchen. I’d sort of expected that. During the night, I kept imagining me and Danny going off on our own and me being able to tell him in my own time, but, even in my imagination, I realised John wasn’t going to let that happen. I hadn’t expected to see them both looking so happy though. John’s in a white towelling robe, with pyjama bottoms on underneath. His hair is still wet from the shower. Danny’s dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and is whistling and frying bacon, whilst John sits on the worktop drinking tea. The radio’s on. They look like a picture from a Sunday lifestyle supplement.

  When I walk in, John jumps off the worktop smiling. ‘Good morning. Tea? Coffee?’

  ‘Coffee.’ I reply before my brain has chance to intervene. How am I drinking coffee with a man who attacked me in my bed?

  Danny looks up. ‘Bloody hell mate. What happened to your face?’

  I haven’t even looked in a mirror yet, but as soon as he says it I realise that I almost certainly have a fairly dramatic bruise across my cheekbone. John leans over to pass my coffee and peers at my face. ‘That looks nasty. What happened?’

  He’s all innocence and concern. Maybe I misunderstood; even as I think that another part of my brain is screaming at my voice to say something.

  Danny is still peering at my cheek. ‘Don’t tell me you can’t remember.’

  I move my fingertips to my cheek, and shrug. ‘Guess I was more drunk than I thought.’

  There should be a moment now. A moment where I grow a pair and say. ‘Actually Danny…’ but I don’t. I didn’t shout last night and I don’t shout now. I guess it’s already too late.

  Danny laughs. ‘Oh dear. Getting too old for the lifestyle, boy. Don’t worry. Eat some breakfast. I’ve got antiseptic somewhere.’

  John nods still all concern. ‘I’ll find it. Don’t worry.’

  He looks right at me. ‘You’re going to be fine. It’s not far above your lip though. It’s gonna hurt like fuck if you try to talk too much.’

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Henrietta

  One week from now, I will be Mrs Claudio Messina. Henrietta Messina. Henrietta Leonard-Messina. No. That might be too much. ‘Messina? Yes, it is unusual. My husband’s Italian you see ...’ My husband? I haven’t even got used to calling him my boyfriend yet, and now I’m going to have to remember to say husband. I bet I get it wrong all the time. I hope people won’t think we’re having an affair, or just pretending to be married or something.

  Tonight is going to be my hen night. Claudio’s probably already out on his stag, but I insisted on having today to myself. This will be my last Saturday on my own in the flat. As soon as we get back from the honeymoon I’ll be moving into Ben and Claudio’s. I suggested he could move here, but Claudio’s only just unpacked from the last time and it’s only for three months so I don’t really mind. This morning it’s me, my flat, my duster, and a teach yourself Italian course on my MP3 player.

  When I told Claudio I was going to clean the flat today he laughed at me. He can’t understand why it matters when I’m not going to be living there much longer, but it does matter. If anything it matters even more. What if Trix rents it to someone else and they think I didn’t keep it nice? And I’m going to be waking up here on my wedding day, so every detail has to be perfect.

  The wedding is actually going to be perfect. I know that every bride probably thinks that, but this wedding really will be. Since we found the dress, everything seems to have come together. Trix has a perfect simple blue dress, which even she ag
reed was ‘tolerable.’ My dad’s making us the most amazing cake. We’ve hired a kind of souly-motowny band to play in the evening. Our first dance is going to be I Say a Little Prayer, which I didn’t really know that well, but Claudio loves. It really is going to be perfect.

  I start cleaning the kitchen. I love cleaning the kitchen. There’s a corner behind the toaster where crumbs accumulate. You have to pull the toaster out to get at them, and then you have to brush them up with something dry. Once you’ve brushed the crumbs up then you can spray and wipe. I love cleaning that corner. After I’ve done the worktops, I clean the oven, and then the floor. I always do the floor last, because then you can sort of back out of the room as you clean and you don’t have to walk over the wet floor. I don’t like the idea of contaminating bits I’ve already cleaned. I’m the same in the shower; I always wash my hair first, and then my face and then go down my body, so that the dirt from bits I’m just washing doesn’t run over the clean bits.

  Cleaning gives me good thinking time, which I need today. I need to work through what I‘m going to say when Danny calls tonight. He’s decided that tonight is the night for putting part two of his grand Ben and Trix plan into action. To be honest I’m feeling a bit sick about the whole thing so I don’t make much progress. I’ve reached the bedroom before I’ve really thought anything beyond the fact that I’m going to mess it up and make Danny cross.

  I always start and finish cleaning in the bedroom. The first thing I do when I wake up is strip the sheets off the bed, and put them straight in the washing machine. Then I let the bed air while I clean the rest of the flat, and the last thing I do is put fresh sheets on the bed.

  I must have been slow today because I’m still lying on the bed, enjoying the fresh sheet smell, when Trix bangs on the door.

  ‘Just a minute!’ I jump off the bed and wash my hands before I let her in. She’s standing on the doorstep wearing jeans, a checked shirt, and a cowboy hat. She is dragging a holdall behind her with one hand and trying to manage two six-bottle wine holders with the other. She looks suspiciously around when she comes in.

  ‘Have you been cleaning?’

  I nod. She slams the wine down on the coffee table.

  ‘It’s your Henri Hen Party today! Why are you doing housework?’

  I shrug. I don’t want to tell her that I wouldn’t enjoy the party if I knew the flat was messy.

  ‘Anyway, I have wine. There is pizza coming in about an hour, and everyone else will be here in about half an hour, so you need to get changed.’

  She practically manhandles me into the bedroom and thrusts the holdall she is carrying into my hand. ‘Seriously, find yourself something pretty!’

  Inside the holdall there is an Indian Squaw costume. I walk back into the living room.

  ‘You said you wouldn’t make me dress up.’

  ‘I lied.’

  ‘Ben isn’t making Claudio dress up.’

  ‘Well, Ben’s a miserable bugger. You are going to be a Red Indian.’

  ‘Native American.’

  ‘Whatever. Just put the costume on.’

  ‘Where did you get it?’

  ‘Hire place in town. Now put it on, or I’ll shoot.’ She pulls a plastic gun out of a holster on her belt. I notice that her hat is accessorized with a Sheriff’s badge.

  ‘Can’t I be a cowgirl?’

  ‘No. You Indian Squaw. Go dress.’

  I give in and go back to the bedroom. I give the dress a little sniff. It smells clean but I don’t like the idea of all the other people that might have worn it. It makes me feel itchy somehow. I know Trix will be cross if I don’t wear it though so I do as I’m told and put it on.

  I’m trying to arrange my feathered headband when Trix comes in. Apparently I’m still not in the full costume. She scrabbles around inside the bag and finds facepaint which she uses to make red and black lines on my cheeks. She spins me towards the mirror. ‘There you go Mini-haha!’

  For fancy dress it’s not too bad actually. The dress is loose, so I don’t have so many bulges and sticky out bits, and the lines on my face distract from the pastiness of my skin. They also save me from having to try to put make-up on.

  There’s another bang at the door. ‘That’ll be everyone.’

  Everyone in this case is mainly librarians, a couple of teachers from schools that I go into, and a few old friends of Trix’s who sometimes come over at weekends. Some are just wearing normal Saturday night outfits with Stetsons added. They get properly told off by Trix for their crap costumes. Most seem to have gone for it though. There’s a lot of double-demin and cowboy boots on display tonight. It’s not very pretty.

  The pizza arrives, and Trix has put some music on. With the combination of wine, music and junk food the place starts to feel quite lively. I’m hoping that if everyone looks like they’re having enough fun here, Trix will forget that we’re supposed to be going on a pub crawl, and permit us to stay here. No chance though. As soon as she’s satisfied everyone is gathered she bashes her gun against her wine glass for quiet.

  ‘Ladies, and ladies, thank you very much for joining us. We are here to send Henrietta off into coupledom with a good strong idea of the pleasures she will be missing as an old married woman.’

  There are quite a lot of woops and yee-hahs while she’s talking. I almost feel a bit intimidated. Trix continues. ‘It is time, ladies, to launch ourselves into the night with our hostage.’

  Hostage? I’m guessing that’ll be me then. The party rolls out into the street. I’m relieved that none of them have actually tried to tie me up like a proper hostage. Worryingly, some of them do seem to have lassoes hanging from their belts. As we’re walking down the street, my mobile rings.

  Trix laughs. ‘Probably Claudio checking up on you.’

  It’s not Claudio. It’s Danny. Right. I guess this is it then. I slow down slightly. ‘I’d better get this.’

  I press the button to answer the call, and hear Danny on the other end. ‘Is this a good moment?’

  I let Trix get a little bit further in front of me. The rest of the group has walked on ahead, but she’s half hanging back to wait for me. She’s in the sort of halfway position where she’s trying to wait for me without looking like she’s listening in. ‘Yeah. This is a perfect moment.’

  ‘Good. Do you want me to talk you through it?’

  ‘No. It’s OK. I’m not going to say anything to her.’

  ‘Perfect. I’ll just wait here and prompt if you need it then.’

  This is odd. I feel a bit like a performing monkey. I’ve got Danny on the phone checking that I’m doing it right, and I’ve got Trix in front of me, pretending not to listen. She’d better actually be listening. This is all for her benefit, and I don’t think I’d cope if I had to do it all again.

  ‘Seriously. I’m not going to tell her. It’s up to Ben if he wants to say something.’

  ‘Fabulous. Have you got her attention?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ I pause trying to think of what to say next. I practically rehearsed the whole thing with Claudio last night, but it’s different now.

  Danny jumps in. ‘Just to be clear. It’s Trix you’re not going to tell.’

  ‘Of course, I won’t say anything to Trix.’ Now she’s definitely listening. ‘It’s hard though. She’s my best friend.’

  ‘Good. Keep going.’

  ‘I think he should just tell her.’

  ‘You’re a natural at this.’

  I grin to myself, and turn slightly away from Trix, so she doesn’t see me smiling; hopefully it’ll make it look even more like I’m trying to have a conversation I don’t want her to hear. I hope she is still listening. ‘Ben’s so proud. He should just tell her how he feels.’

  ‘Ah, but he never will. That’s why we have to help matters along a bit. Anyway it’s not just him that’s proud.’

  ‘That’s true actually.’

  ‘Come on. Spell it out a bit. We’re not dealing with the brightest people her
e, love life wise.’

  I laugh. At least I know Danny is wrong about that. Trix and Ben are easily the cleverest people I know. Hearing them talk to each other always makes me feel like I should have done more revision. This is not the time for an argument though. ‘Ok. You’re right. Her pride’s just as bad.’

  ‘Nice. I can feel Cupid preparing his arrow as we speak!’

  ‘You are sure that he likes her?’ That was only half part of the charade to be honest. It was at least half a genuine question.

  ‘Absolutely. I think he more than likes her. Go on!’

  ‘Ben in love with Trix?’ I lower my voice a little bit more. I’m sure she’s listening now. I need to concentrate on making it look like I don’t think she can hear.

  ‘Nice. That’s probably enough. Shall we wrap it up?’

  ‘Well, look, I won’t tell her. You don’t need to worry about that.’

  ‘Good. Good. Enjoy your night, sweetie.’

  ‘You too. Where are you guys now?’

  ‘Just arrived at the Indian.’

  ‘Is Claudio there?’ I know that calling your fiancé on your hen night is pathetic. Trix tried to stop me bringing my phone to make sure I couldn’t, but this way I didn’t ring him. And technically he didn’t ring me, so neither of us would have broken any hen or stag rules.

  ‘Um. I think he must have gone to take a slash. Ben’s gone too.’

  ‘Oh. OK. Well, have fun.’ I hope he’s OK. What if something’s happened and Danny doesn’t want me to know?

  ‘I’m sure he’s great though. I’ll go make sure. Don’t fret.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  Danny laughs. ‘Course you’re not. See you on Monday.’

  Danny ends the call, and I turn back towards Trix. She’s staring at me. She looks like she’s just witnessed a car crash. ‘The others are getting away. We’d better catch up.’