Olivia propped herself up on her elbow. ‘And then I looked him right in the eye, in the naïve hope that I could somehow convey what I needed to say without words, and magically deliver it through eye contact alone. But no, nada. This man is DEAD BEHIND THE EYES!’
‘Then what happened?’ Holly asked.
‘Then he’s like, “What’s with the deposition? I thought we were just going to carry on wordlessly fucking without any regard for the consequences?”’
‘Bloody lawyers,’ Harry said.
‘I know, right? So then I said, “I thought that too.” And then he went silent. And I was totally stumped. Me, the high-powered lawyer. Captain of the debating squad at Cheltenham Ladies College. Able to talk myself in, or out, of anything. Suddenly I need to defend myself against this shit-hot plaintiff, and I’m totes fucking flummoxed!’
‘So?’ Holly said. ‘What defence did you come up with?’
‘I went to pieces. I said, “Because I’m scared one of us could get hurt. And. I like you.” And then he was like, “Oh, Liv. I like you too. But I’m really not in a relationship place…” And then, the more he explained why he was emotionally retarded, the more emotionally fucking needy I could feel myself becoming.’
‘Wow. He’s the ultimate mandroid,’ Bella said.
‘So it would seem,’ Olivia said. ‘He really is a proper Cadbury’s Flake.’
Harry snorted. ‘Wait. He’s the crumbliest, flakiest boyfriend in the world!’ and he carried on laughing to himself.
‘So maybe in another dimension we might have had a future. But not in this one. He’s like the Tin-bloody Man,’ Olivia said, tears falling freely from her eyes.
‘Oh, poor Liv,’ Holly said, folding her into her arms.
‘I just feel so naïve and stupid for ever thinking I could get away from this unscathed. Bella was right – when a woman has casual sex with a man, it’s never as casual as they think.’
Bella was nodding sagely now. ‘That crazy little thing called oxytocin.’
Holly looked blankly at Bella.
‘Ultimately, women have different hormones to men. We get lumbered with the needy hormone after sex that they don’t. That’s all. We can try and have sex like a man but the hormones – the slippery little suckers – have other plans.’
‘The science is stacked against us,’ Olivia said, nodding.
Holly opened her eyes wide with interest. ‘Okay. While we’re doing psychobabble, I would like to posit a theory, if I may.’
‘Can’t we just do more tent-dancing?’ Bella said.
‘Stay with me, guys. I think it’s a good ’un. I’ve been thinking about all our different break-ups, and I’ve decided there might be a mathematical formula.’
Olivia guffawed, while Bella shot her a ‘give Hol a chance’ look.
‘My theory is this. Quite simply, if you are the inducer of the break-up, then sure, it may be easier at the moment of the break. But after that, when the grief sets in, then boy are you in trouble. That’s when it gets harder, because you have yourself to blame for the pain, on top of the pain. Whereas, if you’re the dumpee, then sure you’ve got it worse to begin with, because you probably didn’t see it coming and they’ve gone and stuck a knife through your heart! But a few months in, it gets easier because at least you’ve got somewhere to direct your anger – you’ve got someone to blame other than yourself. I wish to God I could blame Lawrence for the way that I feel, but I can’t because – I made this happen! I inflicted this pain on myself! I’m a dickhead!’
‘But Hol, you’re actually doing really well,’ Harry said. ‘Apart from the odd blip.’
Holly shot him an ‘I think we both know that’s not true’ smile.
‘It’s a bit like a logic problem! Remember that, from our philosophy module? Let’s see… if P is pain, and X is your ex, and D is the dumper, and L is how much you love the person, then the formula is P divided by L, multiplied by D, to the power of L. Whereas, if you’re simply dumped the formula is much simpler. It’s just P divided by L.’
Everyone stared at her, clearly awestruck by her brilliance. Or dumbfounded by how boring she was – one of the two.
‘My. You’re like the Carol Vorderman of break-ups,’ Harry said finally.
‘Oh my days. I’ve eaten so much, I’m in a korma coma,’ Olivia said, putting down her bowl of curry and burping in a most un-Olivia-way.
Everyone looked at her in surprise.
‘Pardon me. My stomach’s really hurting, it doesn’t know what I’ve just done to it.’
‘While we’re having epiphanies, I’ve got one,’ Bella said, puncturing the silence. ‘This trip has confirmed something for me.’
‘What?’ Holly asked.
‘I’m BORED of my life. Just being away for this short time – even though we are in bleakest Essex – it’s done me the world of good. And it’s made me realise. I love you guys, but after all this crap with Sam, I need to get away. Properly.’
No one knew how to respond, so nobody did. Instead they carried on drinking, the hail pounding at the sides of their cheap Millets three-man tent.
The night passed in a heady medley of tent-dancing, tent-boozing, tent-poker, and finally, at Olivia’s behest, tent-sleeping. It wasn’t until they awoke early the next morning, feeling like four squished sausages in a too-hot toad-in-the-hole, that the wave finally broke.
‘Eurgh,’ Harry groaned. ‘I can’t breathe. What the EFF were we thinking – four men in a three-man? What time is it?’
‘Sshhh, stop speaking. Too early,’ Holly said, covering her head with her hoody.
‘Too… hot…’ Olivia moaned, having apparently stripped to her bra and pants in the middle of the night in an attempt to cool down.
‘10 a.m. We can make it back in time for £2 breakfasts at the local greasy spoon if we leave now,’ Bella said.
‘I’ll get the tent pegs out,’ Harry announced, getting out of bed suddenly full of life and attempting to prise Holly apart from her sleeping bag.
‘Oi!’ she groaned.
Everyone else got up, while Holly remained welded to her sleeping bag. Eventually, they proceeded to take the tent down around her. Only when they started to roll up the groundsheet from under her did she finally give in and start to rub the sleep out of her eyes. ‘OK! OK! Jesus!’
‘Woooohooo. Let’s get out of this wretched place,’ Olivia said, helping peel a mortally hung-over Holly off the groundsheet.
Some thirty minutes later, Holly was staring out the train window at the Tottenham Hale sign, listening to the National Rail stops being called out and wondering if Clara had got herself another voice-over job, when something dawned on her.
‘Wait. Guys. I’ve had a geographical epiphany. We could get off here and take the Tube. That would save us going all the way to Liverpool Street.’
‘Oh yes. Where are we? Tottenham Hale?’ Harry said. ‘This is on the Vicky line isn’t it. Good shout, let’s do that.’
‘Wow, Lawrence’s train map-reading prowess has really left its mark on you, hasn’t it?’ Olivia said.
‘Um, guys?’ Bella said as they alighted all of three minutes later, at Finsbury Park. ‘Speaking of maps… Are you thinking what I am?’
‘That we could’ve actually just taken a cab the whole way?’ Olivia said.
‘That we’ve just gone on holiday THREE MILES AWAY FROM HOME!’ Bella yelled as they headed towards a taxi rank.
‘Ridiculous, Harry! Word of advice – never plan anything in your life ever again, OK?’ Holly said, grabbing his head between her arms in a rugby tackle.
‘Hey! That’s not so easy, you know. I am an advertising planner – it’s my job! Also, can I plead extenuating circumstances?’ he said, directing it at the Lawyer.
‘What do you mean?’ Olivia asked.
‘Look, we were all suffering from chronic heartache, we were in a hurry, and everyone kept saying they didn’t want to spend much! So in my haste I picked one of the closest campsites in Google!
’
Holly laughed. ‘I didn’t want to spend much, Harry, but that doesn’t mean I’m about to go and erect a tent in the ticket hall of Holloway Road station, does it?!’
‘IT DESCRIBED ITSELF AS A RURAL HAVEN!’
‘Rural haven indeed,’ Olivia said. ‘We could sue for false advertising. Waltham Cross? Waltham bloody fuming more like.’
‘You just took us camping in London!’ Bella squealed. ‘Hahahh!!!’
They fell about laughing.
‘Had a bloody brilliant time though,’ Holly said.
‘Me too,’ Olivia added.
‘Same again next year then, yeah?’ Bella said.
‘What can I say?’ Harry said. ‘The inaugural Bleak Camping – it’s the highlight of the British cultural calendar – second only to Ascot.’
‘Love you guys,’ Holly said, gathering them all into a big huddle just as a cab pulled up.
‘You getting in or what,’ grunted the cabbie.
‘Bella,’ Holly said as they squeezed into the back, ‘can you remember your big speech last night? When you said you were bored of your life… what did you mean?’
Bella looked sheepish.
‘Oh, she was kidding, weren’t you B? She was six beers in!’ Olivia said.
Bella shook her head.
‘This going away thing – you’re not serious?’
‘I’ve never been so sure of anything. I need a break from the singing. Or the distinct bloody lack of singing! I was constantly in work last year. So I think while I’m in this quiet patch, and now I’ve finally finished the course at Guildhall, I should use the time to get away, rather than do any more gigs at the pub. If nothing else, I don’t seem to have the willpower you guys do about not seeing the ex. Even though I know I said he’s gone off, there’s part of me that still loves him and still wants to keep seeing him. No, I need to face up to the fact that as long as I’m still living in the same TFL zone as him, I’m never going to get over him! So yeah… I’M OUT, guys,’ she said in closing, like she’d just lost at a game of Twister.
The others were quiet while they took on board the notion of losing a core member. Holly felt like a piece of her arm was about to go missing. ‘But you were only quoting Samuel Johnson DAYS ago!’
Bella looked puzzled.
‘“He who is tired of London…” and all that?’
‘Oh. I thought I came up with that?’
Holly tried another tack. ‘But what will we do without you? You’re like my lifeline!’
Bella looked down at the floor of the hackney carriage and studied the bits of dirt so no one would see her eyes welling. ‘We’re all each other’s lifelines now. But I’ll continue to be that from the other side of the world. The minute you have a crisis of any sort, or a 3 a.m. craving to talk, I’ll jump on Skype! I’m sorry guys. It’s not you. It’s me – I don’t like to stay in one place too long. I’m a Romany at heart and if I don’t move every few years I start to feel like I’m gathering dust!’
‘Oh, love you too!’ Holly said.
‘Oh, don’t be like that.’
‘No, it’s a great idea,’ Harry said, ‘we’re happy for you, aren’t we?’ He looked around the cab at their faces. The girls nodded, one by one.
‘Ha. You’re just happy because you’ve done the maths already and worked out who’ll be taking my room!’ Bella teased. ‘Tssshhh! The bed’s not even cold yet…’
Harry grinned as Holly realised the implications of this. There was every chance that their accidental foray into the Circle of Sexual Disgust was about to get an Nth degree more awkward, she thought, as her phone beeped with an email.
Jeremy.Philpott@TotesamazeProductions.com
Holly.Braithwaite@TotesamazeProductions.com; Pascal.Brown@ TotesamazeProductions.com
Subject: The Madhouse
Team,
I bring triffic tidings. Channel 5 have BOUGHT The Madhouse. They’ve ordered a whole season, so it will be six months of solid cutting.
Because of the round-the-clock nature of the footage, I’m going to need to keep you both on, for longer hours than on Prowl, too.
Good news is they want to move super-fast on this. We’re straight into preproduction. Casting begins next week (we’ve got meetings at the Maudsley et. al.), and we’re scouting locations already.
You’re both pencilled to start w/c 13th July, so that gives you a couple of week’s respite from when Prowl finishes.
All that’s left to say is well done and thanks! Especially you Hol, I’d never have got that meeting with C5 without your Break-up Club as bait.
Jx
‘Whoop!’ shouted Holly. ‘Not only has Jez said thank you for the first time ever, but I’ve also just got another six months’ guaranteed work! Hurray!’
‘That’s great Hol!’ Bella yelled, while Harry was frowning.
‘Yay! Something’s going right for once.’
‘Are you sure you want to take it though?’
‘It’s security, Harry. In a time where I have absolutely none.’
‘You don’t think it’s a tiny bit like building yourself a whole new prison, in which to serve a whole new sentence?’
‘Or you could try to be happy for me. Hey, at least you won’t have to keep helping me with my rent.’
‘What’s the new show about?’ Bella asked.
‘I’d rather not say. It’s come from the land that taste forgot.’
Bella’s eyebrows raised. ‘You promise it’s not Break-up Club?’
‘NO! Look, maybe I’ll let you see it when it airs, depending how bad it is.’
‘Well, I think it’s great news, Hol, well done!’
‘Thanks, Bella,’ Holly said as the truth finally hit her. She’d just agreed to spend another six months of her life alone in a broom cupboard, making morally destitute telly with a middle-aged sociopath for company.
24. Leaving on a Jet Plane
Holly was sat in the centre of the living room, surrounded by torn-up newspapers, brown tape and sheets of bubble wrap, which they were all trying their best not to jump up and down on. For the last few nights, they had gone to sleep with the sound of the brown tape dispenser reverberating in their ears.
‘OK, that’s the last one,’ she said, wiping the dust from her face and leaving a trail of newspaper print all over her cheek.
‘You’re an absolute legend!’ Bella said, throwing her arms around her.
‘I can’t believe you’re going so soon. It’s barely been a month since you first mentioned it.’
‘Yeah, but I can’t wait to go and get started on the work out in India.’
‘You make it sound like you’re going to work in an orphanage! Isn’t it your mate’s bar in Palolem?’
‘Well, working in a bar is a step towards character growth for me!’
Harry popped his head round the corner.
‘Hey, neighbour,’ he said, smiling at Holly.
‘How you finding your upgrade from the sofa?’
‘Good thanks. Although there wasn’t a mint chocolate on my pillow? I rather hoped I’d get one for the inflated cost per night…’
‘Oh hardy har,’ she grinned. ‘Bellarama, we need to get going if you’re going to make your flight.’
‘I’m just going for a swim but I’ll meet you at the airport,’ Harry said, who had recently signed up for a triathlon on a drunken whim with Olivia.
‘OK, sporting mentalist!’
‘Don’t knock it, Holly. Sport has given me a PURPOSE these last few weeks. I think you’d benefit from it too,’ he said, mid-lunge.
‘GO Sport!’
‘Piss off. I’ll see you at T5.’
*
‘God, airports are cathedrals of heartache, aren’t they?’ Holly said, looking around the crowded terminal. ‘Checking in, checking out. Left luggage. Baggage reclaim… going in different directions… Christ, they’re a metaphorical field day!’
‘If you choose to see it that way,’ Bella
said, trying to remain upbeat despite Holly’s exponential doom.
Staring at the revolving doors towards Departures, Holly couldn’t help imagining she and Lawrence rushing through them, only just making the check-in deadline, racing to stock up on provisions from Boots and WH Smith – doing that ‘divide and conquer’ thing they always did when they were in shops and short of time.
‘You’re regressing again, aren’t you? You’re watching old movies of you and Lawrence?’
‘You’ve got me. Sorry, it’s just that being here is making me think about how me and Lawry were meant to be here together, going to Cuba…’
‘Oh sweet Lord! Be kinder to yourself, Hol! You have to stop thinking like that; it’s actually self-harm. Just do what you’d do at work. Delete the tape, or something. Wipe it clean!’
‘You’re right. And sorry, today is meant to be about you.’
‘That’s all right. But listen, you could quite easily have gone on another three years with Lawrence, larking about having fun, despite knowing that, deep down, you weren’t right for each other long term. If you’d been to Cuba, all you’d have got would be three weeks of happy memories.’
‘Which is bad, how exactly?’
‘Hear me out! You see, happy memories have this bleak way of turning their back on you and making themselves into sad ones – they actually torment you! So by not going you’ve triumphed because you’ve got less in what I call the SadBank.’
‘The SadBank?’
‘Yeah, it’s like a WankBank – you know, where blokes store pictures of their naked ex-girlfriends so they can check in any time they’re having a play. The SadBank by contrast, is a receptacle of the happy times you spent together. So, when you’re mourning someone, you indulge in memories of you together, which become sad by virtue of how you use them. So it’s a relief you didn’t go to Cuba, just to get three more weeks of happy memories. AND! Here comes the best part. You would have PAID two grand for the privilege! Seems like a steal now, doesn’t it?’
Holly stared at Bella, feeling her eyes growing hot.
‘Thanks, B. You know, in all this time, no one’s been able to make me feel any better about my being essentially bankrupt. But now I can actually see some sort of bright side. Ball-bags, I’m going to miss you.’
Break-Up Club Page 27