by Susie Tate
Her mother threw up her hands, scowling at Lou. ‘Oh well done you. Well done for being so accepting, so understanding. Well you young lady haven’t invested twenty-eight years of your life into someone who is now completely screwing everything up. Giving up a perfectly good job in the city. He’s taken up with some bloody charity.’ Her mother might have been the only person to be able to say ‘charity’ like it was a dirty word. ‘Now he says he wants to swan off to Africa of all the godforsaken places.’
‘Mum, he’s going to be working for one of the largest aid agencies in the UK, and he allocating funds for an entire region. It’s not like he’s running off to join the circus.’
‘Look darling,’ her dad said. ‘We just want you to talk to him. Maybe convince him to let us speak to him. It’s been over a month now since he cut us off and – ‘
‘Dad, how long is it since you spoke to me?’
‘Um…I don’t - ?’
‘Four months. Neither of you have bothered to contact me for four months.’
All her dad could do was stand in front of her, his mouth working but no sound making it out. Seeing him at a loss for once was strangely therapeutic. She rolled her eyes, letting him off the hook.
‘Fine, whatever. I’ll do what I can.’ At that point Lou was more than ready for them to just leave.
‘Thank you,’ her dad said with real feeling. ‘We’ll see you soon darling.’ Further shocking her he pulled her back into another tight hug. ‘I’ve missed you,’ he whispered into her ear, ‘so much.’
‘Giles, you’ll have to get the car,’ her mum said as they were moving apart. ‘I can’t walk down the road like this.’ Her dad sighed but looked resigned. He kissed Lou on the forehead and held her eyes for a moment, with his hands on either side of his face, before striding effortlessly through the crowd to the door.
‘Thirty now Louise.’
‘W-what?’ Lou stammered tearing her eyes away from her dad’s rapidly retreating back.
‘I said you’re thirty now.’
‘Right.’ Lou frowned at her. ‘I have kind of realized that Mum, this being my thirtieth birthday party and all. Ooh and the banner and balloons also might have given it away.’
‘What I mean Louise is that you’re thirty now and perhaps you should stop with your slut antics and find a man to settle down with.’
It wasn’t the first time that her mother had called her a slut. Usually Lou was prepared to turn the other cheek, accustomed as she was to her insults and knowing that the arguments upset her dad and her brother. But Dad was getting the car, her brother was nowhere to be seen, and Lou was not feeling in the most tolerant mood. She was exhausted, and she decided that seeing Dylan with Katie tonight was enough of a blow to her self-esteem; she didn’t need her mother chipping in as well.
‘Get out,’ Lou said through her teeth, leaning in so her face was inches away from her mother’s. Her mum flinched in shock at first but then her features flushed with anger. Stepping even closer, she grabbed Lou’s exposed upper arms, digging her long nails into her skin.
‘What in the fuck is going on here?’ Both women started and Lou’s mum abruptly released her. They turned to see a furious Dylan towering over them. His eyes flicked down to Lou’s arm and then went wide, his face losing all colour. Lou frowned and glanced down at her arm to see the angry red crescents her mum’s nails had made on her, and the small trickle of blood where one of them had pierced the skin.
‘That’s twice lady,’ Dylan put his hand in the centre of Lou’s mum’s chest and gave a small shove, causing her to go back on one foot. ‘Twice I’ve seen you draw blood on your own daughter. Well I’m not fucking twenty-one anymore, and you’re on my territory now sguthan*. I suggest that you get the fuck out of here or I’ll throw you out.’
‘Oh, the Welshman,’ she sneered back at him, and then continued in a fake high voice. ‘But Mummy, I’m not interested in any of the nice boys from the nice families. I’ve met someone at university, he’s makes me laugh, and he’s got the most gorgeous Welsh accent, and I think I lo – ‘
‘Shut up!’ Lou screamed, interrupting her mum. ‘Just shut up and get out like Dylan said. You always ruin everything.’ She glanced at Dylan to see that he was frowning, trying to piece together what her mum had said.
‘Don’t you dare speak to me like that young –‘
‘Right,’ Dylan cut in, grabbing Lou’s mum’s arm and marching her towards the door. ‘As they say in Llandough, ciao for now.’
Unfortunately Lou’s dad picked that moment to stride back into the pub and nearly collided with Dylan and her mum.
‘What on earth is – ?‘
‘Listen mate,’ Dylan cut in, still holding onto Lou’s mum’s arm. ‘Take your woman home and keep her away from my…’ as if realizing his slip Dylan paused, Lou knew very well that she wasn’t his anything, ‘my…my Lou. If I see her near Lou again, if I find out that she’s even breathing the same air, I will not be happy.’ Dylan let go of her arm and shoved her towards her husband.
‘I told you,’ her mum said in a fake shaky voice, ‘complete ruffians. I told you this was a bad idea.
‘What happened?’ It was obvious that Lou’s dad didn’t quite know what to do at first, but, as his confusion slowly cleared, he turned to look at this wife. ‘What did you do?’
‘Oh that’s just typical,’ she spat. ‘What did I do? Never your precious daughter. God forbid that she is anything but completely perfect. Noooo, let’s just brush to the side the way she dresses and acts like a prostitute, the company she keeps, the way she treats her own mother – ‘
‘Enough!’ Her dad’s face was red as he stared at his wife in revulsion. He turned to Lou, extending a hand, ‘Lou-Lou?’
‘Just go Daddy,’ Lou said quietly, unshed tears sparkling in her eyes. Her dad hung his head and for a second looking utterly defeated before he sighed, saying, ‘Come on Evelyn. It looks as though you’ve done enough for one evening.’ With a wary glance at Dylan, who was standing to the side with his arms crossed over his chest, he steered his wife through the crowd and out of the double doors.
The exchange had been loud and several people were now watching Lou and Dylan. All Lou knew was that she needed to get out of there before she lost it in front of everybody. The Sands family had provided enough entertainment for one evening, and the last thing she wanted was to add her tears into the whole mortifying scene. She knew she should probably say something to Dylan, but she was in no mood to endure any more embarrassment, and explaining her mother’s words would be excruciating.
So, coward’s way out it was, and she pushed through the crowd to get to the cardy that she’d left on the bar stool. Once she’d slipped it on and sighed in relief that her marked arms were covered, she felt large hands land on her shoulders and turn her around to be confronted by a less than happy Dylan.
‘I’m taking you home,’ he told her.
His ridiculous bossiness actually made her smile despite herself. Her smile died as she saw Katie approaching the bar, craning her neck and obviously scanning for him. Lou’s eyes dropped to contemplate her shoes and she vaguely registered how much her feet hurt; there was no way she would give up wearing four inch heels, but it had to be said that after sixteen hours straight they smarted a little.
‘Hey guys,’ an out-of-breath Katie said, drawing up next to them. ‘Happy birthday Louey.’ She grabbed Lou round the waist, pulling her into a tight hug, as was Katie’s way. Lou hugged her back, she liked Katie; it wasn’t Katie’s fault that she had what Lou wanted (or what she thought she’d wanted before he became an arsehole), and anyway Lou was well practised at overcoming her jealousy as far as Dylan was concerned. But for tonight Lou had decided that enough was enough, and when she pulled away she faked a grimace and put her hand over her mouth saying, ‘I’m sorry guys but I think I’m gonna be – ‘ fake wretch, ‘s…sick. I –‘ and with that she turned and sped off towards the loos. At the last minute, and once the
crowd had swallowed her up sufficiently, she hopped from foot to foot taking off her heels, and ducked down to scurry through the throngs of people.
Reaching the exit, she breathed a sigh of relief, but just as her hand made a grab for the handle it was enclosed by a much larger and far warmer one and she was tugged forward through the door.
‘What on earth – ?’
‘Babes,’ Dylan cut her off, not even bothering to look back at her as he dragged her along behind him down the pavement, ‘no lip.’
‘Dildo,’ she shouted, trying to twist her hand free as she felt one of her feet step in something wet (the fact that there had been no rain that day did not bode well for the identity of said liquid outside a busy pub). ‘Will you stop, you big Welsh lunatic; I’m not wearing any bloody shoes.’ He drew to a halt so suddenly that Lou careened into his back and nearly lost her balance, but was steadied by Dylan’s large hands enclosing her upper arms.
‘Why in the fuck not?’ he asked, frowning down at her. ‘Jesus, sometimes I forget just how short you are.’ Lou straightened to her full five foot six height and glared at him.
‘I’m not short; not all of us can be great, hulking, overgrown, Neanderthals.’
‘You’re not tall either. You just prance around in those stilts all day so it seems like you are. Now why aren’t you wearing shoes? And why are you running away without saying goodbye to everyone at your own Goddamn party? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you make any entrance or exit that wasn’t laced with more than a little drama.’
‘Look Dildo, I’m in no mood for the third degree alright.’ Lou sagged slightly, and his hands tightened fractionally around her arms.
‘And that voice,’ he went on, frustration evident in his tone. ‘Stop using that ffwcin* voice.’
‘What are you talking about? And what’s f…ffwcin*? I hate it when you swear in Welsh.’
‘I can’t stand it Lou,’ he abruptly released her arms and stepped away, running both his hands through his already messy hair and looking down at the pavement. He took a deep breath, looking back at her, his green eyes boring into hers and then stepped forward, right into her space, and cupped her face with one of his hands. Lou tipped her head up so as not to break eye contact and her breath caught in her throat.
‘Please babes, I can’t stand this small, lifeless voice from you. Nothing about you is small and lifeless.’ His eyes flicked down to her chest before he looked back up with a cheeky grin on his face, breaking the tense atmosphere. Lou rolled her eyes but felt her mouth curve into a smile despite herself. Dylan was right. Louise Sands was not a shrinking violet. She was bold and brash and in-your-face. She didn’t slink away from her own party and she certainly didn’t take any crap.
After shoving her heels back on and wincing as her wet foot squelched into the expensive leather, she straightened to her new, improved full height, shook out her hair and put both hands on her hips. Dylan’s smile grew wider and what looked like relief flashed through his features.
‘Let’s get a few things straight Dildo,’ Lou said, all traces of small and broken swept away. ‘You’re going to pull your sodding finger out on the ward from now on.’
‘Yes,’ he replied immediately and her eyebrows shot up, blatant disbelief colouring her expression.
‘I will babes, I promise. I’m a prick, I’ll do better.’
His hands came up to cup either side of her face, and he shocked her by bringing his forehead down to rest against hers.
‘I’m so ffwcin* sorry,’ he whispered, the pain and regret in his voice almost painful to hear.
Lou closed her eyes. There wasn’t anyone on the face of the earth with as much power to hurt her as this man, but he wasn’t to know that. How could he know how much he’d crushed her? She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
‘I forgive you,’ she whispered back, opening her eyes and meeting his. She’d said it before, but it was clear that this was the first time it really meant anything.
‘Thank you,’ Dylan breathed, as he took his hands from her face and pulled her in for a tight hug.
‘Okay Dildo, calm down,’ Lou wheezed. ‘Can’t…breathe…’ She felt the sudden bite of the night air as he abruptly released her, stepping back almost awkwardly and running his hands through his hair. Weird, Dylan was almost never awkward, seeming immune to any form of embarrassment most of the time.
‘What…um’ he muttered and Lou frowned in confusion. More awkwardness? Bizarre. ‘What did your mum mean by…um…’
Now Lou had always been able to think on her feet. It was a natural ability that came in useful given her impulsive nature. So in a completely self-assured, derisive tone she cut him off, ‘Oh Dildo, don’t get your knickers in a twist. So what if I had a bit of a crush on Ewan when I started at Uni; it’s all water under the bridge now.’ Dylan crossed his arms over his broad chest and raised an eyebrow.
‘You fancied Ewan Evans?’ Lou nodded casually. ‘Ewan wet-pants Evans?’
She shrugged, ‘His other charms overshadowed the whole personal hygiene thing. Not all of us are as squeamish as you.’
‘The guy stank of urine Lou. He notoriously put his dick away before he’d finished pissing and didn’t wash his hands. I watched the sick bastard do it a fair few times myself. The front of his pants had a constant wet patch.’
‘You’re so judgmental.’
‘Babes. I’m not judging him. If he wants to stink of piss then he can be my guest. I’m just expressing doubt that you took one look-slash-smell of him and wanted to check out his urine-soaked knob.’
‘You’ve just got a phobia of urine since I got Bernard to swamp your bed.’ Lou smiled the smug little smile she could never hold in when recalling her victory, and Dylan’s eyes narrowed.
‘Bloody hell,’ he said. ‘First Bernard, and now wet-pant Ewan. You’ve got some sort of twisted piss fetish. Golden showers and – ‘
‘Yes, yes the smell of urine sets my heart racing blah blah blah,’ Lou interrupted, waving her hands dismissively. ‘I’m a self-confessed urophiliac. Ricky Martin and I would be in seventh heaven together. Now smell my foot.’
‘Smell your foot? Is this another weird – ‘
‘Just smell it will you,’ she balanced on one foot and lifted the other as high as she could, grabbing onto Dylan to stop herself toppling over. ‘You dragged me through a yet-to-be-identified liquid. Obviously I need to know what it was and whether I need to change my stocking. Of course if it is piss I will be in thrills of ecstasy all evening so I’ll probably – ‘
‘You’re wearing stockings?’ Dylan’s voice sounded strangely hoarse and Lou looked at him in confusion.
‘Yes, freak. You know I never wear tights or cotton underwear. Now smell my foot.’ Two slashes of red appeared across Dylan’s cheekbones and Lou saw him swallow before he cleared his throat. She shook her foot at him again and even had to resort to poking him in the tummy with it to snap him out of his stupor. He grabbed her calf, took a deep breath and lowered his head to her foot.
‘Nothing,’ he said in a choked voice before clearing his throat again and releasing her leg. ‘I mean, I think its just water.’
‘Oh well,’ she muttered, shoving her shoe back on. ‘Better luck next time I guess. Maybe I can sneak into the urinals and get some cheap thrills that way.’ Dylan let out a strangled sound, which she thought might have been an attempted laugh at her joke, but his face still had a strangely faraway expression. She snapped her fingers in front of his nose, impatient now to get back to the pub, and furious that she had become the kind of woman who allowed a little bit of heartbreak and an unpleasant family member to run her out of her own birthday party.
‘Come on loser. I need a drink.’
Chapter 11
My Louey
‘Right,’ Lou shouted, slamming her shot glass down on the bar and stamping her foot. ‘Who’s dancing?’
The party had moved onto a bar with a live jazz band and bizarrely an open
mic. The result was surprisingly good. Who knew the pale radiologist who’d made it out of the bowels of the hospital for a rare night out had such a soulful singing voice? Or that the theatre team could give such a good rendition of ‘Mack the knife’.
Just as she was about to grab Frankie’s hand and force her onto the crowded dance floor, the music was interrupted, and a familiar self-satisfied voice sounded over the microphone.
‘Hello there everyone. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Miles, and I work with an…interesting woman who has a hitherto undiscovered talent.’ Lou froze and turned towards the stage, her eyes widening and her face draining of all colour.
No, he wouldn’t…
‘I must say I was surprised,’ he went on, and Lou felt the urge to punch him right in his smug, smiling, annoyingly flawless face. ‘She’s not exactly known for hiding her light under a bushel. But it seems that she’s been keeping a secret from us all and tonight, as she’s the birthday girl, I think she should finally let her talent shine through. Ladies and gentleman I give you Louise Sands.’
Lou’s mind flashed back to a conversation she’d had with Gwen in outpatients. Her worst fear: singing in public. It wasn’t as if it was even an irrational fear. Lou was tone deaf, and not just in the fake-self-deprecating way people say when they didn’t particularly enjoy a singsong. Lou singing was agonizing. Dylan had once likened it to the slow death of a constipated goat.
The whole bar erupted into applause and Lou felt herself being shifted forwards through the crowd. She caught sight of Frankie’s panicked face as she tried to push through the crowd after her, and noticed Dylan had also moved away from Katie at the bar to start towards her, but she was powerless to stop being propelled forward. Before she knew it, she’d been pushed up onto the stage and was in front of the mic.
‘What’d you wanna sing love?’ the sax player asked her and she shot panicked eyes to him, before looking back out to the seemingly vast crowd. Her hand shook as she reached up to clutch the mic and she took a deep breath.