The Confession

by Jessie Burton

  ‘You’ve stayed out here so much longer than I thought you would,’ said Deborah, looking over her shoulder to see if she could spot the waiter. ‘I can see why, but you are coming back, aren’t you?’

  Connie didn’t say anything. ‘Con?’ said Elise. ‘Did you hear her? We are going back, right?’

  ‘I heard her,’ said Connie.

  ‘Everyone’s too positive here,’ said Deborah. ‘It’s like a disease.’

  ‘People will be just as rude to you in Los Angeles if you want them to be,’ said Connie. ‘In some cases, even ruder.’

  The women laughed. Elise thought it was interesting to see the place through a new pair of eyes. Have I got used to this? she wondered to herself. I surf in the Pacific. I say ‘have a nice day’. But this wasn’t enough, and she knew it.

  ‘Oh my god. Is that Don Gullick?’ said Deborah, pointing to a man standing by the barbecue. ‘Con, you have to introduce me. Just don’t tell Robert.’

  ‘Come on, you,’ said Connie, taking Deborah by the arm. ‘Don’s a teddy bear.’

  They left Elise standing on her own by the pool. She watched the little groups of people coming together, drifting apart again. She did not long to join them, but she longed for someone to notice her and come to her rescue.

  *

  The heat of Los Angeles by this time of year was insufferable, but they had started the party at six p.m., when it was hoped the earth had cooled a little. Elise couldn’t bear to stand alone any more, so she walked to the border of cacti round the pool, and placed one bare sole on the soil, feeling its retained warmth, wondering what would happen if she tripped and fell into one of the huge and spiny succulents. She imagined herself skewered there, for ever. Connie had bought her a present, a gold necklace with her initial dangling from it. ‘An apology present?’ Elise had said, holding the shining letter E between her fingers, pleased at the annoyance flickering in Connie’s face.

  ‘It’s a birthday present,’ said Connie. ‘I did say I was sorry. I found it in an old shop in Los Feliz.’

  ‘It’s really pretty.’

  ‘I’m glad you like it, darling. Things have gone crazy here. You see that. My life – our life – you know this is what I’ve wanted, for a long time. It’s just been a bit of a whirlwind.’

  ‘But what is it that you wanted, Con? To live in a bungalow with a pool?’

  ‘No. To be acknowledged.’

  ‘You were acknowledged in England.’

  Connie had ignored this. ‘To do good work,’ she said. ‘With interesting people.’

  Good work, with interesting people, thought Elise, remembering the conversation now, recalling Connie’s distracted manner, her defensiveness. Heartlands did have a spectacular cast and production team, that couldn’t be denied.

  As she watched the party guests, Elise trailed her new necklace through her fingers, the E made of gold like the chain. It had been battered very thin and flat, a reminder both of who she was, and to whom she belonged.

  She didn’t want to be melancholic, but she couldn’t shake it off. From the cacti, she kept her eyes on Connie, who’d reappeared from out of the crowd, a glowing and unmissable beacon in her burnt-orange pantsuit. Where had she even bought it? She was a defiant act of a redhead, a walking streak of autumn in August’s closing stage. Elise had chosen to wear black.

  ‘Hello,’ said a voice. Matt was standing on the edge of the border. ‘You trying to get some peyote?’

  ‘That isn’t such a bad idea,’ she said. ‘I want to get out of my head tonight.’

  He looked concerned. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing. I just . . . this party.’ Elise gestured with a limp arm towards the doors of the bungalow. ‘Who are they all?’

  ‘Connie, right?’

  ‘I don’t know what I’m doing here,’ said Elise. ‘Half of these people don’t either.’

  ‘Well I know why I’m here. Happy birthday.’

  ‘It was weeks ago, Matt. And you know it.’

  He put out his hand and Elise took it, treading lightly over the soil. She felt in her body a second of not wanting to let go. He dropped her hand like it was boiling.

  ‘Where’s Shara?’ she said.

  ‘Inside.’

  ‘Is she OK?’

  ‘Do you want the honest answer?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Shara doesn’t like it here either. She wants to go home.’

  ‘Well, then. You should take her.’

  ‘But that’s the thing. She wants to be alone.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I know things aren’t going well.’

  ‘Don’t be sorry. It’s how it is. You know, the only time it’s good is when she’s painting you. Because she’s doing the thing she loves, and I’m not around.’ Matt ran his fingers through his hair. ‘I shouldn’t be telling you this. I don’t know why I am.’

  Elise thought she might know, but said nothing. In her sittings in Shara’s studio, Shara had not talked at length about her marriage, but she had, to Elise’s surprise, talked about the lost baby. Sometimes, she would only allude to it, as if the baby was wreathed in vaporous circles that Shara could not, or would not penetrate. Other times, she talked as if the baby had survived. She said she wanted to name the girl Dinah, though she hadn’t told Matt this. After sitting for Shara, Elise would take her surfboard and head to the ocean with Matt, and she would enter the water, and think of Dinah, the lost baby.

  ‘We’re just experiencing this so differently,’ Shara had said, her brush aloft, the paint dripping off it onto the studio floor. ‘He thinks I’m dwelling on purpose, that I’m not willing to move on.’

  ‘Are you willing to move on?’ Elise had asked.

  ‘I want to. But I’m not ready,’ Shara had replied. ‘I just want to be here, with a brush in my hand. I can’t see the decades ahead with him,’ she’d said suddenly. ‘But I suppose that doesn’t mean they aren’t there.’

  ‘Does Shara ever say anything to you?’ Matt said. The volume of the music from the bungalow had suddenly been raised.

  ‘Soft Cell,’ said Elise.

  ‘What? Oh, the music. Well, does she?’

  ‘No. She just works.’

  He exhaled heavily. ‘I better go,’ he said. ‘Drive her home.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Elise began to walk away, wondering how feasible it might be for her to slip inside the bungalow and crawl into bed.

  ‘Come surfing tomorrow?’ he called.

  She turned back. ‘I don’t have a sitting with Shara tomorrow.’

  ‘I know.’

  They looked at each other. ‘You’ll want the water,’ he said. ‘With the hangover you’re planning. I’ll come at twelve.’

  Matt turned and walked away towards the patio and through the back doors. You cool customer, Elise thought, despite the fact that Connie would have him for breakfast. What was this – the idle flirtations of an unhappily married man – or was it her own desires, projected? He was handsome, no doubt – in a scruffy, English way. He was young, too – but he didn’t have the energy or hunger for his life that Shara had for her painting, or Connie for her writing. There was something aimless about him that many women would find unattractive.

  But Elise recognized it in herself too – the capacity to blow with the winds. She felt an affinity with Matt, and thought he felt the same. Whenever she was out in the water with him she always felt wonderfully free. She felt safe about her own confusions and insecurities when he was around, because he was normal and humane. When they were in the water, Matt was always there for her, keeping an eye, making sure nothing happened to her. But he was lost like she was, of that she had no doubt.

  *

  Suddenly, there was a flurry at the patio doors. Barbara had arrived, carrying a huge bouquet of flowers that repulsed Elise with their hot pinkness. But she was still amazed by Barbara’s presence, by the sheer fact that Barbara Lowden was bringing garish blooms to her twenty-third-birthday party.

 
The movie star came through the crowd, appearing to look for someone. She spotted Elise, and to Elise’s surprise, made a beeline for her, laughing off the claims for attention from at least seven people in the process. She came up to Elise and embraced her. Barbara was wearing a heavy ylang-ylang perfume; her barriers were up tonight. ‘Why are you skulking by the cactus?’ she said loudly. ‘Happy birthday, honey. It only gets better.’ She embraced Elise again, and Elise took in a mouthful of hairspray. ‘How’s my eye?’ Barbara whispered behind the bouquet. They separated a little, still hidden from the rest of the party by the giant flower arrangement, and stared at each other closely. Barbara’s hair was enormous. She was wearing a pantsuit in one shade of blue, a jacket in another shade of blue over the top of it with large, angular shoulder pads, and a gold necklace, the centrepiece of which was cast in the shape of a lion.

  ‘It’s good, Barb,’ Elise whispered. ‘You can hardly see it. And the shimmer eyeshadow looks great.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Barbara whispered. ‘You are an angel. You just need to show us your wings.’

  *

  The night darkened. Everyone hugged Elise, kissed her on the cheeks, held her arms or her hand – and with every touch, every paw on her, and exhortation to enjoy herself, how lucky she was to be so young, Elise felt more and more alone. Connie had arranged for a cake with slices of kiwi and purple flower petals fanned across it. The guests at the party sang ‘Happy Birthday’ as Elise held the knife aloft. Barbara told her to make a secret wish the moment she made it to the bottom of the sponge; Elise wished that Connie would want to go home. The cake looked bizarre but tasted good.

  ‘Did you make this?’ Elise asked Connie.

  ‘God no. Barbara gave me the name of a fabulous baker.’

  After Don Gullick left, Deborah decided to go back to her own hotel. ‘Jet-lag,’ she said to Elise, as the two of them stood at the front door. Connie had vanished again.

  ‘Thanks for coming,’ Elise said.

  ‘I had a really good time,’ said Deborah. She pointed through the hallway towards the patio. ‘This set-up is mad.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Where’s Con? I should tell her I’m off.’

  ‘I don’t know. Did she – say anything to you, about going back to the UK?’

  Deborah swayed slightly. ‘You really like her, don’t you.’

  ‘Why else would I be here?’ said Elise, regretting the edge in her voice.

  ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’ Deborah paused. ‘I’ve known Connie a long time,’ she went on.

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘She . . . will always do what she wants to do.’

  ‘What are you saying?’

  Deborah inhaled the fragrant night air. ‘I’m saying this for your own good. The writing’s always going to come first. She’s always going to come first, because she’s the writing. And I know she brought you here, and I know you live together – but take it from someone who’s seen it so many times before. Make sure you’ve got your own thing, OK? You’re young. Don’t forget that.’

  ‘I’m not young.’

  ‘You’re twenty-three.’

  ‘Jesus. You too?’

  Deborah put up her hands in surrender. ‘I’m not saying you’re fourteen years old and you don’t know your arse from your elbow. But – I haven’t seen her like this in a long time. Not since Wax Heart came out.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘She’s high. She’s up. She’s writing. She looks straight through me. Don’t you see her doing it? She’s doing it to you as well.’

  ‘How much did you drink tonight, Deborah?’

  ‘Ah,’ said Deborah. ‘So you do know what I’m talking about.’

  ‘Look – I know what it is, to be with someone like her,’ said Elise. Deborah laughed with disbelief. ‘My eyes are open, Deborah.’

  ‘Oh, darling,’ said Deborah, turning away and meandering down the garden path. ‘They’re just not open enough.’

  *

  Interfering bitch, thought Elise, slamming the front door. She went back to the party and began to drink with renewed focus. She thought she might have embarrassed herself in front of Matt, but she couldn’t really remember. There were already blanks in the night. Someone took a group photo with Connie’s camera, everyone bunched together by the pool. Elise saw little clumps of people, briefly hunching over, snorting up cocaine. She danced alone to electronic melodies and the erotic disco of Donna Summer, whose liquid voice floated off into the dark sky.

  Eventually, Connie appeared. ‘Where have you been?’ Elise said, her words slurring.

  ‘Hosting a party,’ said Connie. ‘Oh, my god. You’re wasted.’

  She looked at Elise with such disapproval that Elise thought she might cry. ‘My eyes are open!’ said Elise.

  ‘What? You’re pissed. Go to bed now.’

  ‘Take me. I can’t walk.’

  ‘Are you serious? In front of all these people?’

  ‘Fuck these people,’ said Elise.

  ‘Right,’ said Connie, dragging Elise from under her armpits, shouldering her weight as they staggered to the bedroom.

  *

  Elise lay back on the bed and Connie peeled off her black dress, putting her head through an oversized I LOVE LOS ANGELES! T-shirt that the production team had bought her for a joke.

  ‘This is a joke that’s turned out to be true,’ Elise said, prodding her own breasts.

  ‘What?’ snapped Connie.

  ‘You said this place would eat your brain,’ said Elise. ‘Don’t you remember?’

  ‘It was a friend of mine who said that,’ said Connie. ‘And it hasn’t eaten it so far.’

  ‘I don’t want to be here,’ Elise slurred. She waved her hand in the direction of the garden. ‘All the plants have spines.’

  ‘Come on, El.’

  ‘I don’t have a spine,’ she said, nuzzling her head onto Connie’s shoulder. ‘I don’t have a spine.’

  Connie held her and rubbed her back. ‘I can feel a spine,’ she said. ‘See?’

  It felt so good to be held.

  ‘I do like it here,’ said Connie. ‘I won’t lie. I know you don’t like it as much as I do.’

  ‘Of course you do, of course you do,’ said Elise, her mouth open on the taut fabric of Connie’s pantsuit, dampening it. ‘It was my birthday. It was my day.’

  ‘I know. But go to bed now. We’ll talk about this in the morning.’

  ‘Fuck you,’ said Elise.

  ‘Elise. Lie back down. You’re plastered. Go to sleep. I’ll check on you in a bit.’

  ‘Stop treating me like a child!’

  ‘Enough. You like it when I do,’ said Connie, and she closed the bedroom door.

  *

  Elise’s rage battled with her sorrow and intoxication, and lost. She slid into unconsciousness.

  About two hours later she woke up with the need to vomit. The music had stopped. The bungalow was silent and the night outside was entirely dark. The curtain on the window was still open. Only the pool was illuminated by its own lights, a glow of neon blue. Elise’s vision was skewed and she felt extremely sick. One day, she thought, as she staggered to the bathroom, I’m going to have such a sophisticated birthday party. The most sophisticated thing will be not to have a party at all.

  Kiwi and tequila and bits of petal swilled into the toilet bowl. Elise felt rancid, though better for ridding herself of the poison. She didn’t look in the mirror, too scared to see a black hole. When she got back to the bed, she realized that she was the only one in it. Connie’s side was cold.

  ‘Con?’ she croaked. She sat up, looking again through the window towards the pool. Tiptoeing towards it, she saw Barbara behind the wall of cacti, sitting on a sun lounger, silhouetted against the bright shock of water. As slowly and quietly as she could, Elise pulled open the window. The night was cooler than the room and she was grateful for the fresher air. Con was in the pool. She’d submerged herself
entirely, and her hair was plastered to the sides of her face. Has she gone in there in her pantsuit? Elise wondered.

  Con quietly bobbed around in the water, on her back, staring at the stars.

  ‘It’s why I didn’t have kids,’ Barbara was saying.

  ‘She’s an absolutist,’ Connie said.

  ‘A good thing, until it isn’t. But don’t forget you were the one who brought her here.’

  ‘She had a choice.’

  ‘Huh.’

  ‘OK, fine. I shouldn’t have brought her,’ Connie said. ‘I can’t look after her and do what I need to do. It’s not fair on her. Or me.’

  ‘I think most people would have jumped at the chance to come here,’ said Barbara.

  Connie put her hands on the side of the pool and pushed herself out. She stood in shadow, but Elise could see she was completely naked, her pale skin dripping water, the outline of her body caught in the blue light reflecting from beneath the pool’s surface.

  Barbara reached out and stroked Connie’s stomach, her fingers trailing down into Connie’s pubic hair. Connie tipped her head back. ‘Oh, god,’ she said.

  ‘Ssh,’ said Barbara, removing her hand.

  Elise couldn’t move a muscle. She tried to process what she was seeing, but it was impossible. She blinked, refocused. The women were now standing apart. ‘She doesn’t know, does she?’ said Barbara, handing Connie a towel.

  ‘No,’ said Connie, wrapping herself and taking a seat next to Barbara. ‘She thinks I flirt with you. But that’s it.’

  ‘Everyone flirts with me.’

  ‘Well, exactly.’

  ‘No one knows how to talk to me properly,’ said Barbara.

  Connie lifted a hand to Barbara’s hair in a liquid, easy motion. ‘I do,’ she said. ‘But you scare everyone else shitless.’

  Barbara turned to Connie and Elise saw their faces in profile, the tips of their noses nearly touching.

  ‘She’s a good kid, Connie,’ said Barbara quietly. ‘She’s a really, really good kid. She’s lost, and moody, but I know how that feels.’ Barbara put her head in her hands. ‘Shit. I feel like shit. I said it should have only happened once.’

  ‘I will tell her.’