by Olivia Fox
Contents
Title Page
1
Sat, Jan 1st
Mon, Jan 10th
2
3
4
5
6
Mon, 17th Jan
Sat 22nd Jan
7
8
9
Sunday 30th Jan
10
11
Sunday 6th Feb
12
13
Friday 11th Feb
14
Saturday 12th February
15
16
17
18
Friday, 18th Feb
19
20
Sunday 20th Feb
21
Still Sunday, 13th Feb
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
1
"Bastard. Lying, sleaze-ball, dirty fucking bastard. Look, Lily - just pack a bag - you should stay at mine tonight. I can be with you in twenty." Emma sounded livid.
Lily didn't know what she wanted. This seemed as good idea as any. She threw some basics in an old shoulder bag; toothbrush, t-shirt, knickers... She held them up; pale, faded grey girl-boxers. Had they been the problem? Well, not those knickers exactly, but what they stood for. The whole humdrum lack of frivolity in her life. Was she was just too boring for him, she wondered. Stuck in her ways at just twenty-six? More to the point, how long had Tom known? Maybe, if she'd known they'd been at crisis point, she could have done something. Anything to keep him, she thought. Pathetic. She immediately hated herself for being so fucking needy. For a brief moment she imagined Emma's reaction to these snivelling self doubts. Ha! She'd be beyond outraged.
The buzzer shocked Lily back into the present. Red-eyed and snotty, she made her way through the rabbit warren of corridors which led from her flat back to the outside world. She answered the door expecting to find her friend in her regular sweater, jeans and heels combo. Instead, the petite blonde was looking particularly glam, donning a midnight-blue cocktail dress, with cleavage worthy of a playboy bunny (one of the few perks of managing Thrills and Frills, Soho’s oh-so-classy lingerie boutique). Of course, Lily remembered, it’s New Years Eve. She had been stressing over outfits herself that very afternoon. Christ, that felt like a thousand lifetimes ago.
It was as though Emma had read Lily's mind. "Sorry hon, I didn't have time to change."
As they hugged, Lily felt a fresh wave of tears starting to well up. She let Emma guide her into a taxi and managed to focus single-mindedly on the trickle of rain on glass, needing to keep herself together until they could talk alone.
Emma paid the cabby and led Lily down the familiar Victorian steps to her basement apartment. As ever, it was warm and comforting, with ditsy fairy lights and plush furnishings. Happily haphazard. Lily kicked off her boots and slumped onto the sofa, while Emma went into automatic; glasses, red wine, tissues…
“OK. What happened?”
Between sobs, Lily told her the whole agonizing story. How she'd had an ominous text from Tom that morning saying they needed to talk - that age old cliche. How she'd decided on a whim to meet him from work. How his sweet co-workers had called her in from the cold; told her to go ahead and wait in Tom's office. She'd seen he was absorbed by a phone call, and hadn't wanted to disturb him. So she'd waited the other side of the partition glass. She'd seen him in plain view, yet he was oblivious to her presence; totally engrossed. She hadn't meant to listen in, but it was impossible not to hear Tom's side of the conversation.
He'd started laughing, "It's mad really. I'm twenty-seven and this is the first time I ever dumped anyone."
Lily felt like she’d been punched in the gut. She stopped breathing. Her heart hammered a death roll. This wasn't Tom. He wasn't callous.
But he continued, "Yeah, well I guess you're right, it's long overdue, but I needed a shove. She's a great girl... a good girl, if you know what I mean - not like you," he laughed, then suddenly groaned ecstatically. "Don't - You know what it does to me when you talk like that, and I'm at work - don't make me walk through the office with a massive hard-on. No, no one’s about but… shit. Fuck it. Take your bra off. Go on then.”
He groaned again. The blood had all but drained from Lily's face. She couldn't convince her muscles to move, and he just kept on going, "Yeah, of course you do, you dirty - Jesus - look, just keep yourself wet for me, I'll be round there soon as I can.”
And that was the moment Tom finally noticed Lily. He'd swung round with a grin on his face, and locked eyes with her. For a second he froze, his grin faltering, wondering how much she'd heard, then her pain pierced the moment and he closed his eyes in shame. Lily had fled.
"Oh my God, and that was it?! He didn't run after you? He didn't even try to explain himself?" Emma was predictably, heart-warmingly incensed.
Lily sniffed, “There was no point, anyway. What could he say?"
"But, I mean, for Christ's sake he could have said something..."
"I'm glad he didn't. I don't want him pretending to care about my feelings, not now. He's left God knows how many voice-mails and texts - I just can't face any of it. Here..." Lily offered her phone to Emma, "You read them... You can tell me if there's anything worth knowing, then I can delete the damned things. Listen to the voice-mails too if you can be bothered..." And suddenly Lily was struck again with that vertigo feeling of unreality. She swallowed down the need to sob uncontrollably, and reached for her wine glass. She swirled the rich burgundy, watching it slosh in little whirlpools, trying not to ignore the ache in her chest as Emma scrolled through Tom's texts.
After a brief eternity, Emma looked up, "He's moving into Pete's place. That's his cousin right? And he's collecting some of his stuff tonight, the rest next week. That's pretty much all that's worth knowing. Now, permission to block Mr Sorry-I-hurt-you-but-you-must-have-seen-the-signs from ever contacting you again?"
Lily gasped. "I didn't. I didn't see signs. What signs?"
"OK, I'm doing it. I'm blocking him."
"No, wait-" Lily sighed, "I'm going to have to talk to him some time soon. I don't think I can avoid it for long. There's all his stuff to sort out, and the joint account, and the flat... Oh my God i can't afford the flat on my own! I barely make my half of the rent as it is, and there are 3 or 4 months left on the contract, maybe more, and-"
"OK, now breathe, it's all OK, just take one thing at a time. We can cope with all this. There's a room for you here if you want it? I mean, how much would I love to have our girly-pad uni days back?! You'll have to break your contract, but that wouldn’t be the end of the world."
Lily shook her head, "Thanks, hon..."
"But?"
"But I couldn't do it to poor Mrs Ellington. That rent is pretty much her only income, and she's been so good to us. She'll need time to advertise for new tenants. I'll just have to find the money somehow. If I put the freelancing on hold for a while-"
"But hon, you were doing so well with your writing. So close to making it work. Don’t let that fucker screw up your chances."
Lily grabbed a tissue, breathed deeply and tried to ground herself. She seemed to have been crying for hours. Where was practical Lily, the one who could think on her feet in a crisis? She blew her nose and tried to pull herself together.
"Lately most of it's been pretty mundane anyway, reviews for hair straighteners and leg wax, not exactly the stuff my journalistic dreams are made of. I'll just have to find something else, but God knows what..." She trailed off, distracted by the
curious expression forming on Emma’s face, “…Em? What is it?”
Emma was getting excited. “OK, I’ve got an idea. It’s a long shot, but maybe… You remember Cayley?”
“Immaculate twenty-four/ seven Cayley? Cayley who hired a cleaner to sterilize our student pad before she could face coming round to watch a movie? She’s not the kind of girl you forget.”
“Yeah, well, she came into Thrills this morning, bought love eggs and said it was for work- yeah, right! Anyway, I’ve never seen that girl flustered before, but she was so surprised to see me that she just started rabbiting on about how over-worked she is. Apparently her colleague had some major skiing accident and now she has to cover both their workloads until her boss hires someone new… so, do you see where I’m going with this?”
Lily raised a dubious eyebrow. “What the hell kind of job does she do to be buying love eggs?!"
“Events something or other. God who cares!"
"I'm not even sure what love eggs are," Lily mused.
Emma sighed. "You stick them up your - look - that's not really the point is it?! She’ll be totally made-up to hear from you. You were always her favourite pet project.”
“Don’t remind me,” Lily laughed. “Remember when she insisted on styling me for Spring Ball? You know, it’s probably her fault I met Tom in the first place. If I’d stuck to my old scruffy ways I wouldn’t be in this mess.”
Emma nudged her. “Hey, at least now you’re laughing! I’ve got Cayley’s number. Promise you’ll text her tomorrow?”
Lily rolled her eyes, “Oh, God. Fine. She’ll think I’m nuts but fine.”
“That’s my girl,” Emma grinned. “Now listen hon, I’m bursting out of this dress, just wait two mins while I pull some PJs on.”
Lily curled herself into the sofa, and wondered how the man she’d loved for eight years, her only sexual partner, could have tossed her aside so casually. Last New Year’s Eve, Tom had insisted they stayed home. He’d bought her a tacky French maid’s outfit, and though Lily must have been visibly cringing, he’d fucked her passionately. Had that been the first sign? A sign that he wanted to screw someone new?
As Emma crashed back down next to her, Lily plucked up her courage. “Em, tell me honestly - what did he mean about seeing the signs? Was it obvious to everyone but me?”
Emma squeezed her hand. “Look, you trusted him. Why would you see signs? I’m just the suspicious type I guess, and - well, there were just a couple of times, when were all out together and he had that look. You know. That predatory look guys sometimes get - and I guess I wondered about it, that’s all.”
Lily remembered that look, it had been what attracted her to Tom. “Urgh,” she groaned, hammering her palms against her forehead. “I’m such an idiot.”
“Lilian Wilde!” Emma pulled her up sharp. “Don’t you dare let me catch you talking like that again, you hear?! You were a good girlfriend to that piece of dung. Even after that time he - you know - anyway, you trusted him and the rat-bag lied to you. End of story.”
Good girlfriend. Good girl. Hadn’t those been Tom’s words that very afternoon? Lily had allowed Tom to mould her into the girlfriend she thought he wanted. Dutiful, faithful… and now who was she? She’d given her youthful years to him. Whilst Emma, Cayley, everybody else, had been dating, partying, experimenting, she’d been committed to Tom. And for what? Hot tears stung her eyes again, but this time they were tears of rage.
“You know,” Lily sniffed, “I was good to him. Too damn good. All those years I could have been free and single and crazy - but I gave it up for him - he seemed worth the sacrifice. I never did anything wild - not really. The wildest thing I ever did was getting my tattoo. That’s it. Hardly a life of excitement.” And yet perhaps that tattoo did symbolize something wild in Lily, something wanting to break free. Tom had pestered her to get his name inked across her, a sign of their commitment - or her commitment to him more like. But she’d refused outright, returning from the tattoo parlour with a sleek lily lilting elegantly upon her belly. A tattoo for her. Not him. Thank God.
“Anyway,” she continued, trying not to think of him, “I’ve never had the chance to experiment with other men. I haven’t a clue who I am when I’m not being Lily and Tom. It’s pathetic really.”
Emma looked exasperated. “Not pathetic, not at all - but you talk as if you’re middle-aged. You’re twenty-six. Still young. Still extremely gorgeous. And if you need to experiment, I say go for it.” She paused. “But do it for you. Don’t do it because you think that scumbag will want you more if you’re a bad girl.”
Lily shook her head, “No worries there. I’m going to do it, you know. Fuck it. This will be the year I have some fun for once.”
Emma looked coy. “You know, this is sounding like a New Year’s resolution...”
“Hmm - yes, I guess it is. Why do I feel like I’m walking into a trap?”
“Because you know me well. Here - catch!” Emma tossed a hardback book into Lily’s lap.
Lily hesitated, “Your dad gave you a diary again?”
It was a running joke that every Christmas Emma’s dad would send her a diary, and every New Year she’d donate it to the local charity store.
“He did, indeed, and this year I’m donating it to you! I know what you’re like with New Year’s resolutions, you’re as bad as me. Hey - remember that one about running three times a week - Oh! Or that one about only eating chocolate on weekends - which, by the way, was obviously total madness. Well, this time it’s a resolution with homework - you’ve got to write about it!"
Lily stroked the diary's velveteen cover. She kind of liked the idea of keeping a journal; somewhere to track her year of self discovery. It made it official somehow. Outside, fireworks peppered the night sky. Twelve midnight. Lily emerged from her gloomy chrysalis, oddly self-possessed. Hopeful. Inquisitive even.
“What d’you reckon?” Emma said. “I, Lily Wilde, resolve to dedicate the next year to the pursuit of wild, uninhibited, self-serving sex?”
Lily smiled for the first time that evening, and nodded coyly.
“Maybe.”
“Uh-uh, you got to say the words or it doesn’t count,” pushed Emma.
“Fine,” she sighed, “I, Lily Wilde, resolve to dedicate the next year to the pursuit of wild, uninhibited, self-serving sex.” She raised a glass to meet her best friend’s.
BOOM. WHOOSH. Lily stared, startled, out of the window. The lure of adventure was igniting. Who knows, she thought, this might just be a year to remember.
Sat, Jan 1st
What on earth am I letting myself in for? Have agreed to spend a year repenting for years of unfulfilled monogamy with my only ever (God I’m so pathetic!!) boyfriend, Tom-Tosser-Preston. You, diary, will be my incentive (as dictated by slightly bossy best friend who shall remain nameless) - written proof that, at some point in my life, I did something JUST FOR ME. So here we go. Here comes my sexual awakening/ my salacious sexcapades/ my happy descent into badness/ whatever you want to call it.
Oh, Lord, am I really going to do this?!
L x
Mon, Jan 10th
Oh my poor, neglected diary!
Feeling very guilty for not having looked at you since New Year's.
Who knew so much could change in 10 days. The flat feels empty. Tom has taken most of his stuff. He looked tired - tried to hug me - said 'our friendship is worth saving', that he 'needed me in his life'. Screw that.
I've just got home from my first day's work with Cayley at Bellevue Events, and when I say day - well - I started work at 9am and it's now past 9pm. Tomorrow is scheduled to be even longer, and way more stressful as there's an actual event to manage instead of all the planning we've been doing today.
I'm in two minds about all this. I certainly need the money, and it's surprisingly kind of great catching up with Cayley again. She's mellowed some, though she clearly still wants to save me from myself. She's got our sleazy boss, Mr Bateman, wrapped around
her perfectly manicured little finger. They interviewed me together, and what a joke! Cayley did most of the talking for me, bless her, and somehow she persuaded Bateman to hire me. So now I'm a 'Production Assistant'. I get to shadow Cayley for 2 weeks, then I'm on my own... Eep! This is a major blag, and it'll be a small miracle if I pull it off.
That's all for now - need to eat, need to sleep - but I'll try my damnedest to write again tomorrow.
Yours exhausted,
Lily Wilde
2
Her bed was unmade, so Lily briefly rearranged the blankets before sliding beneath the covers. It was harder to get warm at night without Tom's extra body heat. She lay in bed shivering for a while, wondering at what point in her suddenly choc-a-bloc schedule she would begin her 'sexual awakening'. The whole idea was beginning to feel a bit pathetic. A desperate attempt to put a positive spin on a miserable reality.
Lily slept through her alarm and was woken by a text at 8.35am. With much tripping and swearing, she hurricaned through the morning routine and pinned her eternally tussled auburn locks into a messy up-do. By 8:50am, she was waiting for the District line at Whitechapel Station, and by 9:05am, she was escaping the crowds at Monument, then falling into Cayley's office, rosy cheeked and in dire need of caffeine. Cayley, on the other hand was the very personification of cool efficiency; unruffled and demure, with perfect posture, sitting at her well tended desk. A ballet dancer in a tailored two-piece. She glanced up from her notes to offer Lily a look of well-meant pity.
"Oh sweety, is everything alright?"
"Uh-huh, why? ...Oh, you mean the hair?" She reached back and fussed self-consciously with her grips. All things considered, Lily thought she was doing pretty well. She reminded herself that she'd never be as glamorous as Cayley, and resolved to give herself a break.
"No, no darling, not the hair. Well, not really. But let’s book in with my beautician this afternoon, once we've done all the prep. We'll have a good couple of hours to kill before things kick off. Say you'll do it. My treat? We’re going to have so much fun working together - I just know it! And this girls’ night out is bound to be a hoot. I can’t wait!"