What Goes Down: An emotional must-read of love, loss and second chances

by Natalie K. Martin

  ‘Let’s just get ready and go, yeah?’

  Her face fell. ‘But we were just about to-’

  ‘I already told you, we don’t have time.’

  He looked at her in that strange way again and kissed her lightly on the tip of her nose before extracting himself fully from her embrace. Seph frowned as he went into the bedroom and lifted a finger to her lips. They were still burning from their kiss. It had felt so good. All she wanted to do was get back to it. How could he really have changed his mind, just like that? Then again, what else could she expect? Her hair was greasy, stubborn patches of paint had embedded themselves into the skin around her fingers, and she daren’t even sniff at her shirt. She’d worn it all day, for the last two days. She was hardly oozing sex appeal, even if she felt like she was radiating the need for it as fiercely as the sun radiated heat.

  ‘We need to leave in forty-five minutes,’ Ben shouted from the bedroom.

  The heat in her body slowly evaporated, like an army forced to retreat before battle, dissatisfied and edgy. She sighed and headed to the bathroom, grabbing a fresh towel from the airing cupboard along the way.

  An hour and a half later, Seph leaned against the bar in Passing Clouds and watched Ben as he fiddled with his laptop in the corner of the room. He’d rubbed his hand across his chin so many times in the last few minutes that he was in danger of taking the skin clean off. Even in the low lighting of the room, his pinched eyebrows, clenching jaw and darting eyes spoke volumes. Seph understood. She’d been sick with nerves at her first exhibition. Even knowing that the bulk of people attending were there to support her hadn’t helped. She’d been convinced that everyone would hate it and she’d be revealed as a fraud. It was only after the event, when Janice had spun her around the room, telling her that every piece had been sold that she’d even begun to relax. It had been the same at her second exhibition too, despite the success of the first.

  Seph stirred the straw in her gin and tonic, looking down into the glass. The rush they’d been in to get here tonight wouldn’t have helped Ben’s nerves, and she was squarely to blame for that. She couldn’t believe that she’d been so caught up in work that she’d clean forgotten about tonight’s concert, especially because she knew how important it was for Ben. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she didn’t care. Seph turned to the bar to order a whiskey and coke before taking it over to him.

  ‘Something for the nerves?’ She smiled, holding the glass out towards him. ‘Thought you might need some Dutch courage.’

  ‘Cheers.’ He straightened up and took it from her but despite his effort, the smile he returned did little to mask the tension on his face. He shook his head and rubbed a hand over his chin again. ‘I don’t know why I’m so on edge.’

  On the stage behind him, his friends were busy setting things up, plugging in amps and unpacking a seemingly never-ending amount of equipment.

  ‘Because they’re your friends and it means the world to them and you just want to make sure you’ve done your best?’ She tilted her head to one side with a smile.

  Ben laughed. ‘You always know what’s going on in my head, don’t you?’

  ‘Usually,’ she replied, but after the way he’d looked at her earlier, she wasn’t so sure. He’d never looked at her like that before.

  He glanced at his watch and downed the drink in one gulp. ‘I should get back.’

  Seph nodded and reached a hand out to rub the small of his back. ‘Go for it. I’ll be over at the bar when you’re done. And don’t worry, it’s going to be great.’

  ‘Thanks, babe.’ He briefly kissed her on the lips, sending the fresh, subtle scent of his aftershave into her nose before turning back to the screen of his laptop.

  Within seconds, he was back to rubbing his chin with nerves. Pride surged in Seph’s chest as she walked back to the bar. Ben might be nervous, but she was sure his documentary would be a success, even though she hadn’t seen it yet. Normally, he’d show her clips of his work as he went along, but he’d been surprisingly secretive with this one and refused to let her see it until its debut tonight.

  The band began soundchecking, sending fits and starts of music into the room. She smiled, feeling perfectly content. She loved this place. There was something about it that made it one of her favourite venues in London. With its bare floorboards, fairy lights and colourful, bohemian decor, it had a special ambience and she loved the intimacy of it. More often than not, the people she met here were like-minded and friendly as opposed to the more upmarket, stiff hipster bars around.

  She glanced around the room, looking for a familiar face among the crowd and swore when she caught a glimpse of immaculate blonde hair and clear, pale skin. Ben hadn’t told her that Clara would be coming tonight. Seph quickly turned and looked down into her glass, suddenly engrossed in her gin and tonic, and hoped she hadn’t been spotted.

  ‘Seph?’

  Her shoulders dropped a fraction at the sound of Clara’s voice behind her, and she had no choice but to summon a smile and turn around.

  ‘Clara, hi!’ Seph replied, hoping that her enthusiasm sounded more authentic than it felt.

  The air around them was flooded with a cloud of light, floral perfume as Clara leaned in for the feather-light hug and cheek kiss that had become a socially acceptable greeting for everyone, including strangers or worse – ex-girlfriends. Why couldn’t they just say hello with a polite wave or simple smile?

  ‘I thought it was you,’ Clara said. ‘It’s been a long time.’

  ‘It has.’ Seph nodded. ‘How are things?’

  ‘Really good. Ticking along, you know how it is.’

  Seph took a long sip of her drink. Seconds passed. It was always like this with Clara - awkward and stilted - and she wished Ben were here to make things a little easier. Which was strange, considering that the awkwardness she felt with Clara was partly down to guilt about being with him.

  Seph’s initial dating period with Ben had been a long one. After meeting at a mutual friend’s party, their first date had been one of the best nights of her life. They’d met for coffee in the afternoon, which turned into drinks and dinner followed by a night spent on the flat roof of the building he was living in at the time. It was one of those perfect dates when conversation flowed unendingly, when quiet moments were filled with ease and giddy smiles instead of awkwardness. It had been easy. What hadn’t been so easy, was setting up a second one. Thanks to overlapping schedules, holidays and stints working abroad, it had taken almost two months to get to a second date, and a further four weeks to get to a third. But, despite the lengthy waits, they’d stayed in almost daily contact. Her phone had endlessly pinged with messages as they’d texted backwards and forwards. Seph had had no doubt that they’d end up together. To her mind, it was just a matter of time. She’d had no interest in anyone else. The same, however, couldn’t be said for Ben.

  On good days, Seph told herself that he and Clara had only ever been a casual thing, that it had ended as soon as she and Ben had decided to make things official. He’d been upfront about it and, to be fair, Clara had never actually done or said anything outright to make her feel bad or jealous. But on less than good days, Seph reminded herself that whatever Clara and Ben had, it had begun long before she’d come along. No matter how casual Ben said it was for him, she had always felt that it had meant more to Clara. And on days where she was still feeling out of sorts from being shunned by Ben like today, she questioned why he’d chosen her over someone as beautiful as Clara.

  Seph looked down into her glass and saw her cuticles, ringed with blue paint. At one point, she’d abandoned her brush and smeared a section of the canvas with her fingers instead. Now, her nails looked messy, and the chipped varnish didn’t help. She caught a glimpse of Clara’s nails, perfectly coated in understated beige and cringed inside.

  The silence between them stretched until Seph felt it couldn’t possibly go any further. She took another sip of her drink before clearing he
r throat. ‘How was Tangiers?’

  ‘Exhausting,’ Clara replied. Her face and shoulders visibly relaxed. Maybe she was relieved that they’d finally have something to talk about instead of eking out an unbearable silence. ‘But it was fun. They’re a good group of guys and I’d never been to Morocco before.’

  Clara was a freelance lighting technician and often buddied up with Ben for work. It was, Seph believed, how they’d met in the first place. In her rational mind, she knew that work was work, and from time to time they had to go on shoots together. It was fine. And if they had to share teeny tiny camper vans in Morocco to sleep in, then that was fine, too. Mostly. She only wished that she could stop her mind from playing sadistic film reels of the relationship Clara and Ben might have had if she hadn’t come along. It was silly to feel guilty for Ben having chosen a serious relationship with her over a casual fling with Clara, but it was easier said than done to convince her mind to let it go.

  ‘How about you?’ Clara asked. ‘Ben told me you’ve got an exhibition coming up?’

  Seph nodded. ‘Next month.’

  ‘I’d love to see it. He’s always raving about how great your work is.’

  Clara smiled again and it seemed genuine enough. She turned to order a drink, raising herself up on her tiptoes and pressing her elbows into the bar for extra leverage to try and make herself seem taller. It instantly made her look cute and non-threatening. Seph sighed because, when she really thought about it, that was how she would have to sum Clara up. Things were always awkward between the two of them, but Clara was usually always friendly. She could be a little distant but, then again, so was Seph. Whenever Ben mentioned that Clara would be coming along on a night out or event, Seph would make other plans. It just seemed easier that way.

  Clara turned back around with a drink and flashed her another smile. Seph cracked one back in return. Maybe she was just being stupid, letting a misplaced sense of guilt make things awkward and uncomfortable. They were adults, after all. Wouldn’t it just be easier if they all got along? Besides, it was old news. The two girls locked eyes and Clara grinned, as if she’d somehow tuned into Seph’s thoughts and was deciding the very same thing.

  ‘So…it’s pretty packed,’ Clara said.

  Seph nodded and surveyed the now heaving room. ‘It’s more than Ben was expecting, I think.’

  ‘Where is he?’

  Seph pointed to the corner of the room by the stage. ‘Still setting up.’

  ‘I’ll say hello later. He looks busy.’

  ‘And nervous.’

  Clara laughed a little. ‘God only knows why.’

  ‘You know how he gets,’ Seph replied with a small smile.

  Dissolving the weirdness with Clara was turning out to be easier than she thought. If she’d have known it would be this painless, she’d have done it ages ago.

  ‘I know, but he has absolutely nothing to worry about. It’s really good. I actually think it’s his best piece of work so far.’

  Seph tilted her head to one side a little and raised her eyebrows. ‘You’ve seen it?’

  Clara nodded. ‘A couple of days ago. He came over for coffee and a confidence boost. He’s such a worrier.’

  Had he? Seph took a sip of her drink. It was silly to feel jealous, but still, it burned in her stomach. Why had he shown it to Clara and not her? Seph looked at her, with her big, doe eyes. What kind of confidence boost had she given him? The normal, pep-talk kind, or something else? Seph bit down on her straw, telling herself not to be so stupid. She trusted Ben and, so far, she had no real reason not to trust Clara.

  At that moment, he emerged through the small group of people clustered in front of them with a panic-stricken face. He opened his mouth to speak to Seph, until he saw Clara standing by her side.

  ‘Clara, thank god you’re here,’ he said, looking as if his Christmases had all come at once.

  ‘Well that’s a welcome I could get used to.’ She laughed.

  The panic on his face deepened. ‘I’ve got a technical crisis. Can you give us a hand?’ He put his palms together and looked up at the ceiling when she nodded in reply. ‘You’re an angel. Thank you.’

  Clara looked at Seph with a small smile. ‘I guess I’ll catch up with you later, then?’

  Seph nodded and watched the two of them as they made their way back over to his computer. As masochistic as it was, she couldn’t help thinking about what an attractive couple they made. Clara looked gorgeous in a long, summery dress that hugged her petite, curvy figure and her hair cascaded down over her shoulders. Thanks to having to rush getting ready, Seph’s vest top and jeans looked woefully lame in comparison. Her hair was loose, instead of being its usual scruffy bun and was, at least, clean. But Clara had clearly made an effort for tonight in ways that Seph hadn’t had time to, and the realisation of it did nothing to help with the insecurity building as she watched the two of them together.

  Clara briefly glanced up and looked in her direction, throwing her a smile. Seph took a breath, reminded herself of her decision to let the awkwardness go, and smiled back. They might never be best friends, but it would make life easier for everyone if they got along. Seph was about to look away when Clara reached a hand out and placed it on the back of Ben’s neck, in the exact same place that Seph knew made him weak at the knees. Seph’s stomach lurched. It had looked friendly enough. Maybe it had even been meant as a gesture to calm his nerves. They were reasonable explanations, but still, it was all a little too close, too intimate. Seph took another sip of her drink, telling herself to let it go. She wasn’t the jealous type. Insecure at times, maybe, but not jealous. There was a difference, wasn’t there? She tore her eyes away and fixed them onto the guys on stage, refusing to think about it anymore. There was no need for the territorial feeling building inside, because if anyone else had touched him like that, she probably wouldn’t have batted an eyelid.

  By the time the band finally started, she’d managed to push what she’d seen from her mind and let herself be taken in by the music. She stood next to Ben with the rhythmic notes from the bass guitar winding their way from the speakers into the stuffy air and coiling around her. It was so deep that she felt the vibrations of it in her feet and inside her skin, and all the while, she was entranced by the film playing on the projector screen in the background.

  Ben’s depiction of inner city London matched the style of music perfectly - black and white, grainy and somehow sad, flitting from rooftops to dark alleyways and crowds of people. A shot of a man sleeping in a doorway on a bed of cardboard boxes, surrounded by people, made her think of Joe. Was that how he saw the city they lived in? A dark, gritty and sombre place where you could be in a crowd of people and still feel so desperately alone? It was different to the work Ben normally did. Maybe that was why he’d been so nervous about it. Maybe it was even why he’d gone to Clara for an opinion instead of Seph. Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. She was proud of him – so much so, that the predatory feeling that had stalked her since seeing Clara stroking the back of his neck had almost been forgotten. Almost.

  Seph reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck before planting a kiss on his lips, making sure that she was directly in Clara’s eyeshot. She was happy to make an effort with Clara, as long as the lines were drawn and everyone knew exactly where they stood.

  LAUREL

  Eight

  June 1987

  ‘What do you think?’ Kim asked, tightening the belt around her waist.

  Laurel looked up from her magazine and focused on her best friend as she twisted and turned in front of the full-length mirror on the wall. The stonewashed denim dress Kim was wearing was a complete switch from the loose turned up jeans, roll-neck sweaters and Doc Martens she usually wore, but it suited her. Laurel had always thought that she looked dwarfed in her normal oversized clothes, like a pixie.

  ‘It looks great,’ Laurel said, noticing how it pulled in around her friend’s waist. ‘What shoes are you going to wear wi
th it?’

  Kim pulled her red curls into a ponytail, holding it with her hand. ‘No idea. I can’t wear my DM’s with it, can I?’

  Laurel shook her head. ‘It’ll look weird. I could swipe a pair of Mum’s heels for you, if you want?’

  ‘I can’t walk in heels, and they’d be too big.’

  ‘You can stuff some tissue down the front.’

  Kim released her hair, sending her curls bouncing onto her shoulders and groaned, turning back to the mirror. ‘Maybe this is a bad idea. Why did I buy this stupid thing?’

  She sighed, flopping onto the bed and Laurel sat up, closing the magazine.

  ‘You bought it because it looks great.’

  ‘I’m going to look like an idiot.’

  ‘Course you won’t.’ Laurel rolled her eyes. ‘You look fab in it, and Tom will think so too.’

  ‘He’s invited everyone. He probably won’t even notice I’m there.’ Kim jumped up from the bed and padded across the room to look in the mirror again. ‘Are you sure I don’t look stupid?’

  ‘You know I’d tell you if you did.’

  Kim turned away as she took off the belt and hitched up the bottom of the dress before slipping it off over her head. They’d been best friends since primary school and had undressed in front of each other more times than Laurel could count. But lately, Kim had started to turn away as she undressed, curling her shoulders into her body, as if she were trying to hide. She’d been mentioning her ‘weight’ for a while now, and had even called herself fat once. It was madness. She wasn’t fat, not even close. She had an hourglass figure that most of the other girls at college could only dream of, Laurel included. Kim’s eyes were big and blue, and her alabaster skin was clear and blemish free. As far as Laurel was concerned, Kim was gorgeous. If only she could see it that way too, instead of having such a distorted image of herself.

  Laurel was sure she’d heard Kim throwing up in her en-suite bathroom after dinner. The Smiths had been playing loudly on the stereo so she couldn’t be one hundred per cent sure, but she’d thought that Kim’s already pale skin had looked a shade lighter when she’d come back out again. Maybe it was the curry they’d had for dinner. Mrs Harold had made a chicken korma and it had been thick and overly sweet. Laurel had had to work hard to finish it and felt quite sick herself afterwards. Kim had probably felt the same. Besides, she’d only been in the bathroom for a matter of minutes.