‘But surely that was forever ago,’ Harry began. ‘Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?’
Olivia stared at Harry as though he’d just solved a highly complicated simultaneous equation. ‘You’re right. I should try and tell him, shouldn’t I? I don’t care if I fuck it up, I’m going to HAVE A CONVERSATION WITH HIM!’ She stood up and picked up her bag, looking quite the romantic heroine; gumption emanating from her every porcelain pore.
‘WoooooHOOOO! Go Liv!’ Bella said.
‘Not now! I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll definitely do it one day though. Soon,’ she said as she walked away. The others exchanged looks.
‘Car crash,’ Harry said, when she was out of earshot.
‘Tumbleweed,’ Holly said. ‘Liv, in love? I feel like something’s been upset in the space-time continuum or something. Like, the whole natural order of things has been disturbed. If Liv’s not a FemBot, then what else might be upside down in the world? Is the sky green suddenly?’ She turned to look at Bella who was busy fiddling with a tube of glue, trying to fix the strap on her bag that had come loose. ‘Er, B, you do realise that you are in fact supergluing in public? You couldn’t have waited to fix that at home?’
‘God, anyone would think I was breastfeeding with my boobs fully out.’
Bella carried on gluing, a little bit of her tongue poking out of her mouth, in that way children did when they were concentrating hard on colouring in.
‘This is Araldite, this one,’ she said excitedly. ‘It’s meant to last longer. The trouble with superglue is, once you open it and close it again, it’s pretty much dead. Such a waste of almost a whole tube.’
Holly nodded. As she watched Bella work, she wondered whether there was an Araldite in the world strong enough for what they all needed.
22. Departures
On this particular Sunday, in an alternative dimension, Holly and Lawrence were packing a suitcase. Alternate Lawrence was running around the house looking for his passport. Alternate Holly was decanting her shampoo and shower gel bottles into the miniature bottles from Bella’s boyfriend pack. Lawrence was making playlists on Spotify, while sorting out his laundry, while watching Top Gear, while putting his PSP onto charge all at the same time, and asking everyone who’d listen where he’d left his foreign plug converter.
Then eventually an alternate taxi driver took them to Heathrow, where they rushed through check-in, cleared security, then made it to the gate just in time, after having spent too long in Boots and HMV and nearly lost each other. And then, in an alternate dimension, Lawrence held Holly’s hand while their ears popped and they took off into the air.
Today was the day they would have been going to Cuba for the big trip. The one they’d been dreaming of for over five years, and been talking about since the night they met. Back in the regular dimension, Holly knew she shouldn’t torment herself by screening footage like this in her mind, but it was just too tempting not to. She couldn’t help but picture the ‘other’ them, had they not broken up… had she not made a different decision.
Closing her eyes, she could see them now, rising to thirty-five thousand feet while laughing at his lame jokes and tucking into trays of dubious food. And even though she knew she should turn off the Holly and Lawrence show, stop indulging in it and get on with her life in this dimension, she couldn’t; it made such compulsive viewing. For the first time in her life, she had no editorial control over what her mind was broadcasting.
The patch of sand on the beach that would no longer be sat on. The waterfall that would not be snogged under, à la Tom Cruise and what’s-her-name in Cocktail. The bedsprings that wouldn’t receive a workout. The champagne cork that wouldn’t go searing high over the rooftops. The mojitos that would remain undrunk. The floorboards that wouldn’t witness their awkward attempts at salsa. The photographs that wouldn’t collect up on her memory disc, some well composed, some with Lawrence’s finger in the top right corner. One by one, she pictured all the scenes that would now never be.
Back in this dimension, she imagined the actual Boeing 747 bound for Havana at 1940 today, with its two empty seats and untouched dinners, and felt herself slip into another pity-party for one. As she was learning, when you’re in the dungeons of despair, self-respect and willpower are not your friends. No – you won’t see either of those little buggers jumping in to save you from doing things to make yourself feel worse. To that end, she picked up her laptop and fired up The Facebook for a nice quality session of Self-Harm.
‘But you’ve done so well until now in not daring to look all these months!’ sensible Holly told stupid Holly as she logged in. And yet still she went and did the one thing you must never do. She dared to check his Facebook picture, for any clues as to what he was doing with his life now. She tapped in his name, and there it was – camera one – Lawrence Edward Hill.
Even just seeing that he’d changed his Facebook profile picture – it was like a weird unofficial window into his world. Within seconds, the questions began. Where is he? What are the other three walls? Whose bed is he on? Who is behind the camera and are they female? Who gets to look at his stubbly gorgeous face now? Why is he standing on his head? Why did he never do that with me? And most of all, does he not know that I can see this? Does he not remember I’m unhinged enough to stalk? Or is this his subconscious way of communicating with me? Of making sure I’ll see he’s just fine thank you very much, that he has moved on and he’s living the life of the happy hedonist he always was? Or worse, he doesn’t even think of that? He doesn’t give two hoots? And a million other ludicrous thoughts of that ilk, many of which even a Harley Street psychiatrist would struggle to get to the bottom of.
I’ll show him, she thought, opening up the folder on her desktop that said ‘mixed photos from phone, must sort!’ and beginning to hunt down that one definitive picture which would say, ‘I AM PERFECTLY WELL AND HAPPY SINCE WE BROKE UP, I AM OFTEN OUT BURNING THE CANDLE AT BOTH ENDS AND GENERALLY SEIZING THE DAY AND HAVE MANY GORGEOUS MENFOLK ON MY TAIL EVERYWHERE I GO THANK YOU VERY MUCH.’
‘Sweetie? What are you doing?’ came Bella’s voice.
‘You’re stalking yourself again?’ Harry added.
Holly looked up to see that all of BUC had descended on her bedroom. At the exact same moment, she saw how insane she was being and slammed shut the computer.
‘Nothing. I just accidentally slipped and looked at Lawrence’s profile picture. And he looked good. Worse. He looked happy.’
‘In the words of Damon Albarn,’ Harry said, ‘this is a low.’
‘But it won’t hurt you,’ Bella added with a giggle.
‘But why? How could you let this happen?’ bleated Olivia like a disappointed teacher. ‘You must always tell us before you feel tempted to self-harm again, OK?’
‘I know, I know. THE RULES. But today was different. Today is the day Cuba was meant to be happening, so I can’t stop thinking about him.’
‘Have you cancelled it all?’
‘No. The flights were non-refundable so I didn’t bother. So I keep thinking about those two empty seats!’
‘So why doesn’t one of us come with you in his place? We’d have an amazing time!’ Bella said, staring at her with puppy eyes.
Holly thought for a moment.
‘It’s a lovely idea. But – and I know this sounds tragic – I’d just be too sad, imagining us being there together instead. Plus, I don’t have the spending money, as I’m so much in debt from the flights. And it’s my last month at Prowl so I’m already bricking it about how I’ll make rent next month. No – running away to Central America isn’t going to solve anything,’ she said as another tear of self-pity made a run for it.
‘Oh darling,’ Bella said, giving her a hug,
‘And there are no other editing jobs out there?’ Olivia asked.
‘Not unless I want to go and live in Glasgow. And I think I’d unravel even more if I was that far away from my BUC.’
‘Listen,’ Bella s
aid, stroking Holly’s hair, ‘I know today is a harder day than usual, but the past is behind you. You must try and leave it there. And as for what happens with your job – that’s all in the future, you mustn’t fret about it. You know they call it the present for a reason. It’s the absolute best gift you can give yourself.’
Olivia stood behind Bella, miming projectile vomiting. Holly was inclined to join in. Surely a simple hug would have sufficed, she wanted to say, rather than a torrent of pop philosophy. ‘Thanks sweetie, that’s really helpful,’ she said instead.
‘Try and focus on what’s happening now.’ Bella began reaching into her bag.
‘OK, Bella, I say this with utter love but what’s happening NOW is that you’re getting on my nerves. Please don’t try and tell me to read The Power of Now again.’
Bella smiled and carried on looking in her bag.
‘OR that Excuse me, Your Life is Waiting.’
Bella ceased rummaging in her bag and smiled resignedly. ‘Suit yourself. Stay in your spiritual VACUUM.’
‘I know what you need, Hol,’ Harry said. ‘What we all need. WHY DON’T WE ALL GO CAMPING!’
‘Because camping in this country is hateful,’ Olivia said.
‘And we’re all broke,’ Bella added.
‘Yeah, remember? I’m meant to be in Cuba? But I’m not, because my ex has EATEN MY MONEY and I’m unemployed in a few weeks’ time!’
‘OK, OK!’ Harry said, ducking down to avoid imaginary bullets. ‘All right, how about I look for something that’s in everyone’s price range, somewhere with a nice bit of nature to heal our broken souls. For next weekend. Leave it with me,’ he said, placing the sellotaped laptop on his knees and Googling at hyper speed as though their lives depended on it.
23. Bleak Camping
‘Really, Bella! We are ACTUALLY leaving the house now, right now!’ Holly said, using up the last of the false deadlines.
‘C’mon B, you big Faff Merchant!’ Harry shouted up the stairs.
Harry and Holly were hoisting camping equipment and holdalls down to the bottom of the stairs, playing Harry’s ‘more than one journey is cheating’ game by balancing as much as they could on their arms and hands. As Holly wedged the front door open with a camping gas stove, a catatonic Olivia arrived on the door-step.
‘Liv?! I thought you hated camping!’
‘I need the club, I need the club!’ Olivia collapsed into tears on Holly and yelled into her hair, most of the sound being muffled by the curls: ‘Take me away from this godforsaken town!’
‘Oh dear. What happened?’
‘That’s the last time I tell ANYONE I’ve got feelings for them before they’ve told me!’
By now the whole crew of happy campers had assembled on the doorstep with their luggage.
‘Whoops,’ Bella said.
‘Shit, sorry Liv,’ Holly said, ‘but at the risk of sounding rude, we have to go now or we’ll miss our train. You can tell us all about it once we’re on the bus.’
‘Bus? No, I’ll not be getting on any bus… not with all these…’ Her eyes darted towards her cavalcade of matching Louis Vuitton shoulder bag and trolley, just next to the others’ mismatched rucksacks and supermarket carrier-bags.
‘Oh not this again…’ Bella began, ‘Olivia. We don’t earn a hundred K a year like you. We are normal, humble bus-riding folk.’
‘Not today you’re not!’ she said. ‘Today I am getting a taxi for us. It’s coming out of the Mandroid Foundation for the Broken-Hearted,’ she said as she stepped out into the street, scanning Fortess Road for any amber oblongs of happiness.
‘Hurrah!’ Olivia yelled seconds later. ‘Taxi, people, let’s go!’
Holly’s phone started to ring, saying ‘Don’t Answer’ in the robot voice.
‘C’mon Hol we have to go,’ Bella began.
‘Shit, it’s Lawrence! What do I do?’
‘Don’t answer. Just like the man says,’ Bella said as they piled into the back of the cab. Holly stared dumbly at the device until Bella grabbed it and turned it off. ‘There. Problem solved. Now get in! We’re going on holibobs!’
An hour or so later, they arrived at the ‘campsite’ in Waltham Cross, which was essentially a car park that hadn’t bothered to be glorified. There were over fifty static caravans, all in awkwardly close proximity. Enormous white satellite dishes balanced on top of the caravans, like stars on unfortunate Christmas trees. Next to them, a weather-worn lawn was dotted with rusty playground swings and emaciated trees. Behind that, they could just make out a bleak industrial park. Beyond that, the M11.
‘You going to drink all that yourselves?’ said the large, surly campsite owner by way of a welcome as they wandered into the site with their crates of beer. ‘You’d better not make any trouble.’
The equally surly boxer dog next to him barked aggressively as if to second that warning.
‘’S’not Glastonbury, you know,’ the owner added, before turning back to his mobile caravan to watch the match on Sky Sports. ‘Pat!’ he yelled. ‘It’s that lot from town.’
A moment later, a short, plump woman in a green velour tracksuit came out of the caravan with a rent book.
‘Question,’ Harry said afterwards as they trotted off towards their pitch. ‘Why would you come all the way out here just to be in a box watching satellite television?’
‘I have SO many more questions besides that,’ Olivia said. ‘Chief among them, why would you come here AT ALL?’
‘He was right about one thing. Glastonbury this ain’t,’ Bella said.
‘The only thing to do at this point is booze. Booze ourselves silly, in this poor man’s Butlins,’ Holly said, looking pointedly at Harry, along with everyone else.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ he offered. ‘Sorry guys.’ He held out a can of Red Stripe to Holly by way of a peace offering.
‘Thanks,’ she said.
‘You OK?’
She nodded. Somehow, the shock realisation that Harry had taken them for a holiday retreat at The Only Way is Essex meets Scrapheap Challenge had managed to diffuse any residual sexual tension between them.
‘Oh, you’re not serious. Is that all we’ve got to drink?’ Olivia asked as they all started to unpack. ‘Cheap multi-buy beer? No bubbles?’
The others exchanged eye rolls, while Harry popped open a can and slurped on it as it fizzed everywhere. ‘You want bubbles?’ he spat. ‘Them’s bubbles.’
‘All right, all right!’ she said, checking the alcohol content was high enough. ‘Gimme beer,’ she forced a stoic smile. ‘Thank you.’
Four hours later, they had relocated to a scraggy patch of woodland just left of the car park, where they were dancing in the rain to a tinny stereo. They did a reclaim for Bob Dylan’s ‘Times They Are A Changing’ for Bella. They bounced on a collapsed fence, which they had reimagined as a trampoline. They climbed really low trees. They held a weightlifting championship with an abandoned car chassis they’d found next to a burnt-out motor in the woods. They played the slowest ever game of Poohsticks, using bits of litter in the stagnant river. By eight o’clock, Holly was doing a booze run back to the tent for their final crate. When she returned, she stood back and watched the spectacle from afar. Olivia letting her hair down, pogoing to rock anthems and chain-smoking cigarettes. Harry sitting by the ‘river’ weaving a bracelet out of some long grass, while staring out at the motorway horizon as though it was the most sublime vista on Earth. And Bella dancing among them all, doing cartwheels and handstands.
Holly was about to jump on in there when an epiphany (and a bit of mud) stopped her in her tracks. I don’t need a man to be happy, she suddenly realised. This is my family and I blinking well love them. Maybe this very moment, silly though it was, could be the high-water mark of their lives. For one brief moment, she saw how lucky she was. And how actually, one day, they might all be OK. One day, they might each find four completely deranged yet perfectly matched fuck-ups with which to settle down and s
pend their lives. And if they didn’t, well then that was OK too. They’d have each other. And it would be one fun old people’s home.
Just as she was enjoying the image of a wrinkly Harry and Bella dribbling into their slippers and Zimmer frames, she heard the opening beats to her and Lawrence’s favourite Belle and Sebastian song, and burst into a run to join the others on the trampoline. As they bounced away and the song reached the chorus, she shouted ‘RECLAIM!’ at the top of her voice so that even the smallest animals in the woods could hear. All things considered, this night was a definite High Point (if not for the animals).
‘You know what,’ she said, feeling a pissed sermon brewing, ‘Most people would have taken one look at this shit-hole and scarpered. But you guys – you saw it for what it could be – a gymnasium, a trampoline… Not everyone could do that. I’ve just realised, guys, I’m bloody well in love with you all!’
‘Wooohooo!’ Bella squealed, turning up the stereo, which was now blasting David Bowie. Holly bounced up and down as though her life depended on it, singing ‘We can be heroes, just for one day,’ as loud as her lung capacity would allow. Harry sang along with her, as he clambered onto the branches of a tree.
Later, when the heavens had opened beyond repair, they retired to the tent to enjoy a delivery from the Waltham Cross Tandoori House.
‘So, Liv,’ Holly began as they tucked into their tent feast, ‘do you want to tell us what happened with Jonny?’
Olivia sighed. ‘All right then,’ she said, taking a long drag on a cigarette. ‘We were at his house. We’d just had blinding sex. I was lying there watching him smoke. God, when Ross smoked I used to think how rank he smelled, but on Jonny it just looks hot. Anyway, so then I was like, “Jonny. Before I go, I was kind of hoping we could talk.”’
The others nodded, listening intently.
‘“Talk? What is talk?”’ he goes, like he’s a tourist trying on a new phrase. And I go, ‘“Talk. About this. Us.”’
Break-Up Club Page 26