All Tomorrow's Parties

by Nicole Fitton

  She had grown up in a family where being the third of six meant invisibility. She had had to endure being overlooked by her parents so many times that she had become withdrawn and somehow disconnected from family life. Her older brothers had wanted nothing to do with her as she was a girl and three years their younger. As twins her brothers had always had each other and rarely even acknowledged Karenna’s existence. Her younger siblings had come one after the other and it felt to her as if she was always in the way, never warranting attention. She found solace in music and had managed to use her girlish good looks to her advantage. The dirty old men of BSS hadn’t been able to resist the girly smiles and short skirts: oh yes, she knew how to get what she wanted. Once she landed a place within the PR dept those poor old men didn’t know what had hit them, no more flirting, no more blow jobs in the back of Marquee Club - Karenna had grown into the bitch from hell as far as they were concerned. She had set her sights much higher than their cheap whims, she wanted power and to give her her dues she was prepared to work for it without using her feminine wiles. In fact, like a caterpillar turning into a butterfly Karenna had become transformed - but in reverse. Gone were the well manicured nails and the beautifully feminine dresses and fancies, now it was all about the climb to the top. She had nurtured the chip on her shoulder that had grown with her since childhood to the point where it was a comfort to her; it was her justification for how things were. Life needed to be how she wanted it to be, her life her rules. Now she had to think and think hard.

  Maybe the answer doesn’t lie with Tony she thought, maybe the answer lies with Laine.

  She lit another Marlborough Light as she decided upon her next move.

  10

  Another dreary Monday morning…Laine stared out of her office window, reflecting on the rollercoaster her life had recently become. Maybe this was what living had to offer, maybe this was her first really big step. On leaving hospital she had moved in with Tony: after all what choice did she have? She was run down and homeless. It had been Tony’s suggestion and to be honest he had been amazing. She had her own room and her own space. He had not pushed her or persuaded her into anything and was more gentle and thoughtful than she had ever seen him. In fact she had never seen that side of him before. She considered his proposal whilst convalescing.

  Whether it was her brush with death or the fact that she was tired of dreaming of her happy ever after she said yes. Yes because she chose life and stability over uncertainty, something over nothing. There had been no word from John. She had not written to him since the miscarriage.

  A feeling of emptiness had started to polarise her thoughts. She felt so alone, despite her family and friends. The love of her life was gone, the baby she did not know was gone, all that greeted her now were tears. Grief was new. It sang as a siren throughout her body; raw, uncut, open and exposed. Grief had reared its ugly pox-ridden head and made her take an inward look at herself, tilting her world view just slightly. Her glass was still half full, but for how long? How long? She knew if she gave grief another backward glance it would consume her. No, for once she would chose the path lit with the big red neon sign. She would marry Tony. She would bury her grief; bury it at the bottom of her ocean of tears. It would not consume her but it would change her.

  She had been out of hospital and back at work for two weeks. It had taken no time at all for her and Tony to develop a bit of a routine. They needed something to hang onto and a routine gave them that whilst they tried to find their way.

  Laine would get the tube into the office each morning and when he could Tony would be there to pick her up each night. The evenings were hardest for Laine: by the time Tony arrived each evening she was absolutely wiped out. The doctors had said she was rushing things and should return to work slowly, but she had needed the normality the office brought. After two weeks it still didn’t seem to be getting any easier. Every bone was

  screaming, every muscle aching. A fear of maybe this was how she would be for the rest of her life was starting to creep in.

  She watched the rain hitting the window pane, every drop feeling like a tear falling from heaven. She should have stayed, my God in a heartbeat she would have stayed. Yes it would have been messy – too many loose ends, but she wouldn’t be caught in this cycle of suffering, in this wretched state. The rain kept falling – each drop a reminder that she was raw and hurting.

  For the first time in her life she had seen the frailty of life. She now understood the time limit life had set her. Life was not something that could be replayed, unlike the records she promoted. At the end of every song you could pick up the needle and play it again, reliving the emotions you felt on first hearing, remembering the time and place, feeling the emotions that haunted you, knowing you had your connection to a time, to a place, to that song. In that moment emotions could be relived.

  Life however was not an endless song. Time tricked you, it made you feel as if every Sunday went on forever, as if each moment could be held, then without warning it was gone, blown out of your hand like a child blowing a dandelion. Laine knew she had to live, her small fragile life had to be lived despite feeling dead in her soul. She needed to look towards the future: did she wait for the unfinished oil on canvas which was her journey with John to play out, or did she look with her eyes for today at what she knew and could control here and now?

  She was aware that she was being watched and turned to see Adam looking as though he wanted to say something.

  “Did you want something Adam?” asked Laine.

  “Well, not really, it’s just that, well it’s just…” he started to look uncomfortable. “It’s just that we’re all worried about you, Laine, I’m worried about you. Since you came back from Italy you’ve moved out from Danny, been in hospital, and agreed to marry Tony – all within the space of a few months and now you look the unhappiest I’ve ever seen you. I just want you to know I’m here for you Laine, anytime you wanna talk or anything… OK?” His voice had taken on a soft almost whispered tone.

  He placed his hand gently on her shoulder. Laine reached out and took his hand, turning her chair she met his gaze.

  “I’m fine really”, she said. She could feel the salty dew start to form in her eyes. She knew as soon as the words left her mouth how hollow they sounded.

  ‘I’m just in a bit of a cyclone right now, it’ll pass really it will.” She tried to smile, and realised this was the first time she had even attempted to smile in a while.

  “Well if you need some head space or whatever just let me know – you can take as much as you need OK?” he said.

  “OK”, said Laine softly. It was all she could do to push her emotions back down below the level of the floodgates. She knew that he was being genuine. For all the bullshit he could spin, he could be a proper genuine guy, and this was probably one of the occasions where his true self was on display.

  “Thanks, Adam - there is one thing I’d like to ask you?” Laine had thought about this and now seemed as good a time as any. “Sure Laine, anything I can do to help”.

  “Will you give me away, Adam?”

  5am – He had woken in a sweat, the whirl of the a.c. springing into life ready for the heat of the Texas day. Every night was the same, how had he managed to get himself into this spiral of misery? Each night the same dream, each night waking bathed in sweat. Running through the forest, catching glimpses of Laine, never finding her but always close, so so close. 5am was not bad, most nights he awoke between 3am and 4am.

  Shortly after Laine’s return to the UK, John and Pete had been posted back to the US, Fort Bliss El Paso to be precise. The nuclear warheads were being decommissioned so their tour had been cut short.

  El Paso was laid out in front of him, flat and bright, the intensity of the heat unyielding. Since his arrival on base he had not felt at home here. Italy had gotten under his skin and was still navigating its way around his body. La Dolce Vita – now he understood. The Italian people had a true passion for this frag
ile life which really sang to him. Italians managed to find the meaning in everything, big and small. Doing well and being guided by your own moral compass were at first alien to him, but as he had spent more time in Italy he understood.

  Before he met Laine he had spent some of his free time down at the port of Chioggia on the south side of the Venetian lagoon, watching the fishermen. He had seen how they spent hours patiently waiting, at peace with their surroundings. No rush, no urgency for a catch, just letting life takes its course. When finally their patience paid off he watched the great care they took over the fish they’d caught. Each fish handled delicately, respectfully – not discarded and thrown down without a care. This philosophy was in their blood, something since the beginning, known not learned.

  We Americans could learn a lot, he had thought.

  His return to the states had been frenetic. He’d had to arrange for his girls to continue living with his mum in Wisconsin. His ex-wife Kimberley was in no fit state to look after them and was still in denial at actually being divorced. Not only had she been running up bills left right and centre (for which he was still by law obliged to pay) but she had also refused to leave the army home they had shared – to the point where she had had to be escorted off the property. No, she was definitely not going to look after the girls, that he was sure of.

  Guilt was unfortunately a trait which John possessed in abundance. He felt guilty that his marriage had failed, he felt guilty that he could not be the dad he wanted to be for his beautiful daughters, he felt guilty that his mum was now shouldering his parental responsibilities and now he felt guilty for all the pain he knew he was causing Laine.

  Day after day her letters arrived, each one full of hope and bursting with an abundance of love. He treasured these letters, they were his window into the life he hoped one day to have. He knew he could not reply. What right did he have to play any more with her emotions? Love her enough to let her go, yes he did, and this is the mantra he would cling to. He wanted her to have everything, everything he could not give her right now. He was a wreck and he knew it, so now would be a disaster. Rarely do two people fit so well, he thought, but the tide of negativity stacked against them was vast. No, they needed clear decks if they were to have any chance, and right now his were on overload.

  The night he had met Laine had been his first night off the base in over three months. Pete had convinced him that he needed to “lighten up”, and in view of everything that had been going on he had agreed. Meeting Laine had been like unearthing a desire that until that moment he did not know he possessed. She had invaded him body and soul. He had surrendered willingly and she had nourished his soul.

  He had tried, oh how he had tried to tell her his life was complicated, but she would just smile, and at that moment he would find himself lost in her, not caring about anyone or anything. He loved her, of that he was sure. She had arrived on a breeze, bringing with her the gentle wind of change.

  John was the eldest of three boys; he had grown up in a traditional American family: his father a Baptist minister whilst his mother had stayed at home looking after the children. His upbringing had been strict Baptist, with his parents’ beliefs embedded in the fabric of his childhood. As he grew he realised his parents had had a loveless marriage and were held together by a sense of duty. He vowed this would not happen to him. Yet here he was desperately fighting the guilt, the guilt of his divorce, the guilt of not being a great father, the guilt of letting everyone down including God. Even his father with his “married for life” beliefs had had to admit that divorce had been the best option; Kimberley could test the patience of a saint. This however could not take away John’s sense of failure. With these emotions playing, he had run headlong into Laine.

  He had found his soul mate, he had ridden the wave of all-encompassing love, but he knew he had to let her go. How could he match her needs, her wants? He had enough baggage to fill the QE2; she on the other hand only had a small piece of carry-on!

  He wanted her, in fact he needed her, but now was not the right time. He needed to get back on his feet, recover from the storm that had been Hurricane Kimberley. For his own sense of worth he needed to show Laine he could support her, look after her, care for her in the way she needed. He loved her enough to let her go.

  She had half expected him to turn up at the church, “If anyone here knows of any lawful impediment ....”, but the day had been faultless from beginning to end. Every day she had written to him, detailing her thoughts, laying open her emotional turmoil. And every day silence had greeted her. Two weeks before her wedding, Laine wrote her final letter. If she were to make this marriage anything but a sham she needed to believe in it. She would have to close the chapter of John, as painful and cutting as it would be. She had to live the life being created for her, not the one she dreamt of.

  Dear John,

  This will be my final letter to you. It has taken me a while to realise that despite my hopes and dreams of us being together it will now never be. I just wish I could speak to you, to try to understand what I have done to make you hurt me so much, I loved you that is all, in fact I still love you but I can no longer live with this misery. I am to be married to a man whom I will grow to love, of this I am sure, I know he loves me and right now that is enough.

  I do not know what else to say except a day will not pass where I shall not think of you.

  Take care my beloved

  Laine

  It had felt like a lead weight as she had taken it to the post office. She knew by posting it she was turning the page in her book of life. With regret she allowed the letter to drop into the box. The dull thud as it landed confirmed the reality - it was over.

  Laine Marshall and Tony Black were married on August 6th 1983 at St Peter’s Church, Notting Hill Gate. Over 150 people attended the service, with over 200 guests dancing the night away at the evening reception held at Kew Gardens.

  The great and the good, the bad and the ugly, the glitterati and the shitterati had attended. Some were genuinely happy for the newly-weds, whilst others had gone out of sheer jealousy. Tony had upset a lot of women and also some men with his lack of commitment. In fact some just attended to see if he really would go through with it, some came to pass comment as to the food/wine/dress/flowers and some came because they genuinely cared.

  Laine had worn an understated cream layered silk A line dress with a small train – she made a conscious decision to go against the trend of meringue style dresses made popular by Princess Diana. “I wonder if Diana felt like this as she got ready for her marriage?” thought Laine.

  Her hair had been fashioned by Sassoon’s top stylist who had gone for a medieval “damsel” look, whilst the flowers had been styled by the incredibly talented Jane Packer. Throughout, Laine had insisted on understated. Only two colours were to be present, red and white nothing else. She did not know a lot about flowers but she knew there were to be no Chrysanthemums as they smelt like pee. Tony had insisted that no expense be spared, in fact he insisted that he pay for it all. As it was, Laine’s mum could not really have helped out financially: her wages from the social club did not go very far.

  If Tony had known of Laine’s preoccupation prior to their marriage, he did not show it. As the day drew near he became even more attentive and gracious: did he fear as the day grew closer that he may lose her? Possibly.

  He had loved her almost from the first moment he had seen her at that promo evening. He knew she was young, but had felt at that moment that her soul had lived beyond her years. He had not been able to take his eyes off her and had spent weeks trying to figure out how to orchestrate a date with her. His chance had come when she had called to cancel Reggie’s lunch and he had not let the opportunity pass him by.

  Tony had been around long enough to know that women were clever and very subtle when they wanted to lure you into their web. Yet although captivated by her, Tony knew Laine was completely unaware of his feelings. For so long he had avoided all those women
with their “let’s start a relationship” eyes and their “please don’t just shag me, I want to see you again” conversations, yet he had played the game – the life of the single bachelor who had the best job in the world for attracting hot women. He had gained himself a reputation around the business of being a bit of a hard heart who was only looking for one thing. If he got pissed off with a “clinger”, as he called them, he would just avoid the label they worked for, bands and all.

  All well-versed bosses kept their beauties away from him, knowing that if they failed to live up to his expectations their business would suffer.

  Adam was a good friend of Tony’s, yet he had done his best to keep Laine well away from him. Fearing the worst on several occasions he had deliberately kept Laine away from functions he knew Tony would be attending. Whilst it was not always possible, he did his best to protect her.

  Tony’s lunch in Holland Park with Laine had hit him straight between the eyes. He knew at that moment he wanted her more than anything and was prepared to do almost anything to make it happen. He had scared himself by the depth of his feelings. He was used to being in control, but with her he was completely out of control.

  He had prepared himself for the long game; after all she had a boyfriend. He could wait: after all, he would be playing for keeps.

  Things had been progressing rather well until Italy. What the fuck had happened in Italy and who had been following her and why? He had seen the photos and knew what they meant. Who had hated him so much that they wanted to truly cut him down? It was obviously someone who knew him. He had made no secret recently of how he had fallen for Laine, which was admittedly out of character for him. Over the years he had been a true arsehole to so many women but who, who would have the motivation to do this and why now and why Laine??