‘Run,’ Danny shouts, his brain catching up with his actions. We both run for the Love Bug. Danny gets there first – because he isn’t doing this in five-inch heels (well, I didn’t realise I’d be dashing for a getaway vehicle today) – but he has to wait for me to get in first, because that’s the only door that works.
‘Come on, come on,’ he shouts. ‘I have previous.’
‘Of course you have fucking previous, you’re a menace,’ I snap, clambering over the seat.
Thankfully the officer’s window is too filthy for him to safely drive after us, and by the time he is out of his car and on his way over to us, Danny is speeding away, flipping him off and beeping his horn as he leaves him in his dust.
As we fly along the road, Danny makes victorious woo-ing noises.
‘We showed him, huh?’ He cackles.
I roll my eyes as Danny blows his horn and bursts into a lyrically questionable version of ‘I Fought the Law’.
I feel a wave of sickness wash over me suddenly.
‘Can you slow down, please?’ I ask.
‘No, he might catch up with us. Just let me turn off so he can’t find us. Anyway, I’m hardly speeding.’
‘That’s because your crappy car hardly can speed,’ I snap. ‘It’s not that. I feel sick.’
I watch the colour drain from Danny’s face, but soon realise that it’s not out of concern for me.
‘Don’t be sick in my car,’ he panics. ‘I’ll pull over.’
‘It’s fine, just get us to safety.’
‘I’d rather be arrested than have a car full of vomit,’ he says seriously, pulling over and hurrying out of the car so that I can get out.
I bend over the bonnet of the car, resting my head on my forearms.
‘There’s a sight I’m used to,’ Danny jokes, but I feel too ill to tell him to ‘piss off’, let alone laugh it off.
‘I’m going to be sick,’ I announce, moments before throwing up all over the Love Bug.
‘Not on the…car,’ Danny says redundantly.
I feel dreadful as a cold shiver washes over my body, but I know how much Danny loves his car and I feel bad.
‘Sorry,’ I say quietly, my teeth bizarrely chattering.
‘Hey, don’t apologise,’ Danny says, rubbing my shoulder. ‘It’s karma, isn’t it? I mess up someone else’s car; I get my car messed up. Don’t worry.’
Whether or not Danny is upset about me throwing up on his car, he does a brilliant job of acting like he doesn’t care. I still feel bad though.
‘I’ll clean it,’ I insist, widening my eyes to try and force myself to feel less dopey.
‘Don’t be daft, get in the car,’ he insists. ‘Have a nap. We’re not that far from York. I’ll take it nice and easy and wake you when we get there.’
‘Thank you,’ I tell him, climbing back into my seat and snuggling up.
‘Maybe hold this bag, just in case,’ he adds, pushing a plastic bag into my hand. So I imagine being sick on the inside of his car is still a no-no, then.
Chapter 25
I wake up flat on my back, with my hand over my mouth as though I were trying to keep the vomit inside by any means necessary.
For a moment, I breathe as gently as possible, terrified any sudden movements will make me sick again. Then, as I run my hands down my body, I realise that I’m not wearing any clothes. I sit up and take in my surroundings and realise that I’m in a room that I don’t recognise, in a bed that I’ve never seen before, watching Pointless on TV – Pointless, of all things!
‘Hello,’ I call out, panicked.
I hear running water shut off before Danny rushes out of the bathroom, wrapping a towel around his waist, moving his laptop off the bed next to me so that he can sit down.
‘You! You had me worried,’ he insists, feeling my forehead with the back of his hand. ‘Good, you’re much cooler now.’
‘What… How…’ I don’t even know what questions to ask.
‘We’re in York,’ he tells me. ‘At the hotel. You went a bit weird in the car – you burned right up.’
‘So, what, you took my clothes off me?’ I ask angrily.
‘No,’ he replies through gritted teeth, resenting the fact I’m making out like he’s some sort of opportunistic pervert. ‘I was carrying you in and you threw up all over yourself. And me. Anyway, there are easier ways to see you in your underwear.’
I feel bad for a second, until the last part of his sentence registers.
‘Wait, what do you mean there are easier ways?’
‘Well, for one, you sent me a basically topless photo last night,’ he says.
‘How… I deleted that. That wasn’t meant for you,’ I insist.
‘Yeah, I guessed as much. But iCloud is a thing, so you didn’t just send it to my phone, you sent it to my Mac too.’
‘Fuck,’ is about all I can say.
‘Was it for Will?’ he asks, softening a little.
‘Yes. I was drunk; I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t thinking, I suppose.’
‘Did he reply?’
‘No. Well, I never sent it. I only sent it to you, and then you interrupted me so…’
‘So I delete this…’ his laptop makes a noise, confirming as much ‘…and it’s gone for ever. No one else has a copy.’
‘Thank you,’ I say weakly.
‘So, how are you feeling?’
‘Like I want to kill you, for making me eat that bloody burger,’ I tell him.
‘Hey, I didn’t make you. I’m just glad I didn’t eat mine.’
I shoot him a filthy glance. ‘My stomach is killing me,’ I tell him. ‘And I feel like I’m going to be sick again.’
‘Bathroom is that way,’ he tells me.
I dash for the bathroom as fast as my dizziness will allow, sit on the floor and hover my head above the toilet.
‘Your phone is ringing,’ Danny calls from the bedroom.
‘They can wait,’ I call back.
‘It’s Will,’ Danny adds, appearing in the doorway.
Just brilliant. When I want to hear from Will, I don’t hear a word. Now, when I neither want nor feel up to talking to him, here he is.
Danny hands me my phone, so I answer.
I am about to speak when a crippling stomach cramp grips me, and that wave of sickness washes over me again. I let out an involuntary moan before saying hello.
‘Are you having sex?’ is the first thing Will asks, angrily.
‘What? No!’
‘Candy, do you have my boxers?’ Danny calls out.
I spot them on the floor next to me and toss them out to him.
‘Sounds like you two are having fun,’ he says sarcastically.
‘Will, I’ve been texting you – you haven’t replied to me. You caused all this. I didn’t ask for any of this.’
Hearing his voice is so bittersweet. I miss him like crazy, but I can’t get past his betrayal, or him making me an accessory to his adultery.
‘So, what, you just go off with some guy for a filthy week in hotels?’ he asks – the hypocrite. Because it was fine when I was doing it with him, even though he was married.
‘Because that’s what’s happening,’ I say sarcastically.
‘Well, I called the first hotel and they said you didn’t sleep there. You didn’t sleep in the second, either. I’ve got you visiting the first office and then nothing. So you’re doing something, and you’re sleeping somewhere…’
‘I really don’t think it’s any of your business,’ I reply. I mean, the business part is his business, but we both know that’s not why this trip is happening, so he can’t say anything about it and he certainly can’t fire me. ‘And just listen to yourself! You have been lying to me – cheating on me for our entire relationship, having a baby with someone else, and you call me up after days but not to apologise, oh no, to be a jealous wanker.’
‘Language,’ Will reminds me. ‘You know how I feel about swearing.’
; ‘What are you, my fucking dad?’ I ask angrily.
‘Look, you’re upset,’ Will says calmly. ‘But we need to talk about this.’
‘Talk to your wife,’ I snap, hanging up on him.
I look up from the toilet to see Danny standing in the bathroom doorway with his boxers in his hand. He smiles and gives me a short applause.
‘Thanks for looking after me,’ I tell him sincerely.
‘You’re welcome,’ he says with a smile. ‘Just a bit of food poisoning that I probably caused – it’s the least I can do.’
‘I don’t just mean while I’ve been unwell today,’ I tell him.
‘I know,’ he replies. ‘You know what? I really like the new Candy.’
‘You know what? Me too,’ I tell him honestly.
As the night has gone on, my sickness is fading fast – hopefully the fact I only ate a mouthful of poisoned burger is working in my favour. I felt weirdly hungry when I woke up – probably due to the fact that my system is completely empty – and all I wanted was toast. Toast with butter, which is odd because both bread and butter are foods that I never normally touch.
We’re in a four-star hotel, so it’s no surprise that toast is not on the dinner menu. Danny offered to pop down to reception and ask if they would make me some because I was unwell and it’s all I wanted. Unsurprisingly they said no, but when Danny returned to our room half an hour later, he was brandishing two Asda carrier bags, having bought and successfully smuggled a toaster, bread and butter up to our room. He cooked it up on the desk and served it on the saucers from the teacups. It might actually be the best toast I’ve ever eaten in my life.
So here we are, sitting in bed in our underwear, eating toast and flicking through the TV channels that the hotel has to offer.
‘That really hit the spot,’ I tell him. ‘Thank you so much.’
‘It’s just toast.’ He laughs.
It might be just toast, but if I were here with Will, there’s no way wheat of any kind would be on the menu. The only part of the trip I’d been dreading was visiting all of these amazing hotels with wonderful restaurants, and not being able to indulge in what they had to offer. Well, now I can…and yet here I am, in bed, eating toast.
‘Well, now I need another cuppa. Want one?’ I ask.
‘Sure, but I’ll make them,’ Danny insists.
‘No, you’ve done enough and I’m feeling loads better,’ I say as I climb out of bed, awkwardly transitioning from under the covers to the privacy of a hotel dressing gown.
‘I’ve seen you in your underwear more than I’ve seen you in clothes these past few days.’ Danny laughs. ‘Is that really necessary?’
‘Yes,’ I tell him firmly as I make the tea.
‘Well, that’s what we’ll work on next.’
‘What?’
‘You getting more comfortable with being undressed around people.’
I laugh. ‘You say that like it’s normal.’
‘It is,’ he replies. ‘But you stiffen up, like you’re terrified of your own body.’
‘I’m fine with my body, thanks,’ I reply, placing his cup down next to him.
‘Well, we’ve got you on solid food; we can get you on better terms with your body. Know that you’ve got a cracking body.’
‘Shut up,’ I say, taking the dressing gown back off and climbing in bed.
‘No, I’m serious. You’re way out of that chubby old wanker Will’s league.’
I can’t help but smile.
‘He tried to contact you again?’
‘No, he thinks we’re too busy having sex for me to chat to him.’
‘Well, if that’s what he thinks…’ Danny jokes with a wiggle of his eyebrows. I throw one of my discarded crusts at him.
‘Oi, didn’t your parents teach you to eat your crusts.’ He laughs, throwing it back. Danny’s face falls seconds after my own does. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean…’
‘It’s OK,’ I tell him honestly. Well, it’s just one of those things that people say, isn’t it? ‘It just reminded me of some advice that my dad did give me before he died. It was just me and him, sitting in his room. We’d been quiet for a few minutes and then my dad comes out with: “I know that you’re a lesbian, and I love you – know that”.’
‘Was he confused?’ Danny laughs.
‘Yes,’ I reply. ‘But not because he was ill. Because I’d confused him with my lack of a love life. I dressed kind of punky then too, so that and because I’d never brought a bloke home – my dad put two and two together and got lesbian. But he was quite an old-fashioned kind of man, so to hear him say that meant a lot.’
‘Yeah, I bet.’ Danny laughs.
‘Well, I explained to him that a love life just wasn’t happening for me. We’d never discussed such things – I’d only ever chatted boy stuff with my mum, but it was like, he knew this was the end. This was the last piece of parental advice I was ever going to get, so he reached out. He told me not to worry about it, and to make sure that I never needed to rely on anyone for anything. He said that while it’s nice to have someone to fall back on, when that person is not there you’ll come crashing down on your own. He told me to never let a man control my happiness, or my financial stability – well, look at me: miserable, sleeping with the married man who pays my wages, doing all the things he told me not to do.’
‘Don’t be so hard on yourself,’ Danny insists. ‘You’ve just got off track a little, that’s all. We all make mistakes but we learn from them and we don’t make them again. Hopefully. I can’t promise you we won’t have any more run-ins with the fuzz.’ He laughs. ‘Seriously though, I know I annoy you, but I just want what’s best for you, and everything I’m doing or pushing you to do is because I know it will make you happy in the long run.’
‘You think twerking in a strip club, getting so drunk I get an Isis tattoo, getting driven to the police station in the back of a police van and winding up with food poisoning is going to make me happy?’
‘Yes,’ he replies confidently. ‘Because it’s keeping you amused, entertained, on your toes and distracted from your problems.’
‘This is true,’ I reply. ‘But I’m not sure how I feel about you being on a little mission to sort my life out.’
‘Will you let me, though?’
‘Yes,’ I reply, slowly and cautiously. The truth is that, as messy as things are and as furious as Danny can make me, he is distracting me from Will and it is making me feel better. Living life has given me this clarity, the knowledge that I can’t and won’t be happy with Will, so there’s no point in trying to fix it. Best to just pick up the pieces and walk away.
‘So you want to put him completely behind you?’ Danny asks. ‘Because if you do, I’ll help you, but you’ve got to go all-in. I’m happy to help you change, but I’m not going to be your girlfriend, taking your phone off you so you can’t drunk dial, wailing “he’s not worth it” at you as I drunkenly swill you with Lambrini.’
I laugh. The truth is that I have had enough of Will, and the more I think about it, the more I feel like we were just a source of warmth for each other during a cold time. He was unhappy in his marriage; I was unhappy generally. We just sort of paired off, and we shouldn’t have. It sounds like Danny needs some convincing, so it’s time for a little embarrassing honesty.
‘I thought he was going to propose.’
‘What?’ Danny asks.
‘Will. I thought he was going to propose while we were away. I found a ring in his pocket last week, this beautiful, silver band with a huge, gleaming rock on it. I actually thought it was an engagement ring, and I was terrified because over the last couple of days I cut my left hand four times on four separate occasions. At first I was upset and annoyed, that my hand was going to look ugly in the photos. Then I started worrying that it was a bad omen, or that my body was physically rejecting the idea of marriage. But it turns out it wasn’t an engagement ring for me – I suppose it was a yay-we-had-a-baby ring for his wife.’
‘That’s rough,’ Danny admits.
‘Yep,’ I reply. ‘But the thought of marrying him now makes me want to cut my left hand off. How can I feel anything for a liar and a cheat? Maybe things would be good to start with, but what’s to say he won’t trade me in down the line too? I’d never relax. I’d be trying to keep up my Little Miss Perfect act for ever and I’m just so tired.’
‘Do you trust me?’ he asks.
Again, I’m cautions, but open to ideas. ‘Yes,’ I reply.
‘Then all I ask is that you do as I suggest, OK?’
I think for a moment, excited by the idea, but worried. ‘OK, but we need ground rules.’
‘State your terms,’ he says, clicking the TV off.
‘Right, you can’t make me eat anything that might make me ill. No more body modifications. No getting me arrested.’
‘Deal,’ Danny says, holding out a hand for me to shake. ‘And this isn’t me backing down, it’s just that I feel like we’ve done all that now. Time for new stuff.’ He flashes me a cheeky smile.
‘You’re trouble, mister.’
‘I’m trouble?’ He laughs. ‘Look, I’ll take responsibility for almost everything, but don’t act like you’re sweetness and light. I hear you swear, I saw how much you could drink before you got drunk. I saw you twerking at the strip club – well, videos of it at least. And when you were trying to make Emma jealous, that was all you. And let me tell you this, Candy, you’ve got moves. Your neck-kissing game is strong.’
I try to bow from my position sitting in bed, keeping the covers up high. Danny notices me being awkwardly undressed again, and he looks as though he’s going to suggest I flash as part of my life rehabilitation, according to him.
‘Don’t worry,’ he says eventually. ‘We’ve got to let it happen naturally. I throw you in the deep end, you’ll drown.’
‘Illness aside, today is the first day since the shit hit the fan that I actually don’t feel like I’m drowning. I suppose I have you to thank for that,’ I say reluctantly.
‘No way,’ Danny says modestly. ‘You might have been drowning, but you were in the shallow end of the kids’ pool. You just needed someone to tell you to stand up.’
Drive Me Crazy Page 16