‘What is going on with you?’ he demanded. ‘Why are you trying to cause a fight?’
‘Don’t turn this around on me.’ Seph shook her head, indignant that somehow she’d now become the bad guy.
‘I’ve never once given you a reason not to trust me, not once.’
‘Ben, you were seeing her while you were seeing me.’
‘We weren’t serious then and as soon as we were, I ended it. I wouldn’t have told you about it if I’d had something to hide. You know all of this.’
‘You don’t have sex with me anymore.’
‘So that means I must be getting it elsewhere? Have you thought that maybe I’m just not in the mood, or that I’m tired?’ he replied, his face etched with bewildered confusion.
‘Yeah, right.’
As quickly as it had surged up inside, her anger fell away. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She hadn’t wanted to bring up Clara or Cannes at all. She’d spent ages calming herself down and running through the different outcomes of an argument like this, and had decided not to do it. She was supposed to be cool and calm, dignified and not jealous at all.
‘Why are you doing this, Seph? You know there’s nothing going on with her, so what’s really going on? Talk to me.’
She wasn’t trying to cause anything. She hadn’t asked for any of this, to feel so angry and betrayed and hurt and frustrated. All she wanted was for things to go back to normal. She reached for the almost empty box of Marlboro on the bed.
‘I swear to God, Seph, if you light one more cigarette.’
‘What? You’ll leave? Call the cigarette police and have me arrested?’
She stared at him and somewhere, a voice in her head told her that she was about to cross a line. It was the same voice that had told her the very same thing in her mum’s kitchen earlier. She knew she was being stupid, irrational even. She was acting like a child and she felt like one, powerless to stop it. She didn’t even know why she was so angry anymore. Was it because of Cannes, her mum, Nico, her awful paintings or because it had been a shitty day? Her inner voice of reason was screaming at her, but it was as if it had been turned right down and she could barely hear it. Seph pulled another cigarette from the box.
Ben shook his head and disappointment took over from the fury that had been emblazoned across his face before. Disappointment was never good. It was always so much worse than anger. But still, she lit the end of the cigarette.
He sighed and dropped his arms by his sides. ‘You know what, Seph, do what you want. If you really want to smoke a pack a day and kill yourself then go for it. If you don’t care, then why should I?’
‘Why are you giving me such a hard time?’
He shook his head again. ‘Me, giving you a hard time? Jesus Christ, Seph, I don’t know what it is you want anymore. When I try to touch you, I’m being smothering, when I leave you alone I’m being inattentive. You complain about us not having sex because I wasn’t in the mood twice. I’m doing my best to give you the space you need to work, allowing for your fucked up, unpredictable moods and sleep patterns while trying to live my life at the same time. And then you accuse me of cheating. As if I’d have the time or inclination to sleep with anyone else, least of all Clara.’
Seph shook her head, trying to stop the whirring inside. He was rebutting everything she’d said like a top-class lawyer. Why was he making it sound as if she were a monster, making his life hell? If she wasn’t allowed to be on edge with everything going on now, then when would she ever be? She sucked on the cigarette with force, as if it were her sense of ego and sanity, her anchor in a situation that had been turned on its head with no warning.
Ben climbed onto the bed and picked up a pillow, followed by the book resting on his bedside table.
Seph pulled her eyebrows together, watching as he stood back up again. ‘Where are you going?’
‘I’m sleeping in my studio tonight.’
Seph dropped her hand to her side, sending tiny flecks of ash onto the floor. He held the pillow under his arm and the book in his hand, and stared at her for a moment. Her tongue was dry and for the first time since she’d lit the first cigarette hours ago, she became aware of the bitter aftertaste of tobacco in her mouth.
‘I can’t be with someone I have to walk on eggshells around all the time,’ Ben said. ‘If you’re trying to break this relationship, you’re doing a really good job.’
He turned and left her alone in the bedroom. She knew she should go after him, grab his hand and apologise. But instead, she slammed the bedroom door shut before sitting cross-legged on the bed with irritation scraping away at her insides like a rusty spoon.
LAUREL
Seventeen
November 1987
Laurel pulled a pack of Polo mints from her pocket and offered it to Kim. ‘Want one?’
‘Ooh thanks, I’m starving.’ Kim took one between her fingers and inspected it before popping it in her mouth.
‘Yeah, I’ll bet,’ Laurel replied, taking one out for herself. ‘You haven’t eaten anything all day.’
Kim shrugged. ‘I just didn’t fancy anything, that’s all.’
The seat of the bus vibrated beneath them as it drove on. From the moment Laurel had picked her up at Victoria Coach Station yesterday, she’d hardly seen Kim eat anything. Nico had taken them out for dinner last night and while they’d devoured a plate of steak and chips each, Kim had only nibbled on a bread roll, claiming that she’d stuffed herself full on the coach. She’d skipped breakfast altogether this morning and turned down a sandwich for lunch.
A man came up onto the upper deck of the bus with a parcel wrapped in greaseproof paper, sweating in a stripy plastic bag. He sat a few rows down from them and Laurel soon caught the scent of chips soaking in vinegar.
‘What do you want for dinner?’ she asked, her mouth watering. ‘We could get some fish and chips if you want? We’ve got a really good chippie around the corner.’
‘Oh, I don’t mind.’
‘Or we could cook something. There’s loads of stuff in the freezer.’
Kim shrugged. ‘Whatever you like. You don’t need to make a fuss for me, and I’m not that hungry anyway.’
‘You just said you were starving.’
‘Not literally.’ Kim rolled her eyes playfully. ‘Anyway, the Polo got rid of that.’
A Polo mint got rid of starving hunger? Laurel frowned and looked outside the window. Dribbles of condensation ran down over the glass and the sky was already a dark, inky blue as the bus trundled across Vauxhall Bridge. The road below them was slick with rain and people hurried around like ants under umbrellas.
She took a quick glance at Kim. Her gorgeous, vibrant red hair looked dull and brittle, her skin was dry and flaky and she’d lost weight. A lot of weight. It was the first thing Laurel had noticed when Kim had stepped off the coach. Kim’s cheekbones were sharp and her fingers were bony. But Laurel had had no idea how severe it really was until last night. She’d walked past the living room where Kim would sleep for the weekend and had caught a glimpse of her through the crack in the door. It had been impossible not to notice Kim’s hipbones jutting out and straining against her skin and she’d had barely any waist to speak of. Her hourglass figure had gone, melted away as if it had never been there at all. Laurel hadn’t said anything about it despite instinctively knowing she should, and now she couldn’t get the image of Kim’s concave stomach and clearly visible ribs out of her head.
Kim caught her staring. ‘What? Why are you looking at me like that?’
Should she say something? She wanted to, but it seemed wrong. They were on a bus, surrounded by other people. The last thing she wanted was to embarrass Kim, or to ruin the rest of her weekend. And it had been so long since they’d seen each other. Laurel swallowed the words back down and put a smile on her face that felt so plastic, it might as well have been made from the bags sitting at their feet.
‘Nothing. I’ve just missed you, that’s all.’
&n
bsp; ‘Me too. It’s all so different now, especially with uni and everything.’
‘At least Tom’s there, too.’
‘True.’ Kim smiled.
Maybe it was fate that they’d both applied to Cardiff and got in because at least Kim wasn’t alone. By all accounts, they were madly in love. Laurel was happy for her, but she had to wonder if Tom had noticed the massive change in Kim’s appearance. He must have. It was hard to miss, especially when compared to the version of her who’d turned up to his house party back in the summer rocking stilettos and a tiny dress. And, if he had noticed, she wondered if he’d brought it up at all.
‘You know, I’d thought about transferring to somewhere down here,’ Kim said, picking at a nail that looked so brittle it could snap with the slightest pressure.
‘Really? You never told me.’
‘It was only an idea and, to be honest, I’m glad I didn’t.’ Kim shook her head. ‘It’s so expensive and I’d feel like the ugly duckling all the time. I mean, did you see those women earlier?’
‘Which women?’
‘The ones in Chelsea.’
‘What about them?’ Laurel asked, remembering the women they’d seen with their long, fur lined winter coats and designer handbags trotting down the street.
‘They looked like models. Almost everyone here does.’
‘Don’t be daft, of course they don’t,’ Laurel scoffed. ‘You’ve seen our neighbours. Do they look like models to you?’
‘You know what I mean. It’s just not somewhere I could ever live. It’s nice for a visit, though. And I got everything on my list so that’s a bonus.’ Kim smiled happily. ‘It’s been a nice weekend.’
Laurel smiled but it felt hollow. They’d laughed and joked, catching up on each other’s lives. After a brief tour of Brixton that morning, they’d headed out to start striking things from Kim’s Christmas shopping list, starting with window shopping in Chelsea and ending up on Oxford Street. They’d spent ages in House of Fraser, spritzing themselves with perfume, clipping on earrings and trying on make-up. Kim had bought Yardley soap for her mum, a tie for her dad and a chain for Tom. And she was right, it had been a nice weekend. If only it hadn’t been framed with concern about Kim’s weight and concerns about money.
Laurel hadn’t bought a thing all day, and it wasn’t because she couldn’t afford to, because she could. Nico’s business was booming, with cars selling quicker than people could drive them away. She’d taken photographs for his ads just like he’d wanted, and he’d paid her for them too. Cash was rolling in and he’d given her a wad of it to spend today, but she’d kept it firmly in her purse.
‘You’re driving up on Christmas Eve, right?’ Kim asked, and Laurel nodded.
In just two weeks, she would be back at her parents’ for the first time since leaving. She’d imagined visiting more often but, between her course and Nico’s business, there just never seemed to be enough time. He’d been up a couple of times to help finish things off with the restaurant but she’d stayed behind. If she were honest, the idea of going back made her stomach swirl. She missed her family badly, and knew she was missed in return. But even though George had told her they were proud of her, she knew she’d broken their hearts by skipping university.
‘It’ll be fun,’ Kim said.
‘Dry turkey, stinky sprouts and EastEnders,’ Laurel grinned.
‘We can hang out with Tom, too,’ Kim added. ‘It’d be nice to be together, all four of us. We haven’t done that yet.’
Before she’d moved to London, time with Nico had always been wedged between his stints helping out at the restaurant. He’d never had time to do much else, but Christmas would be different. Not only would they spend time with her friends, they’d also bring the two families together, gathering around the table for Christmas dinner. And she hoped to have quality time with Nico, too. Considering they lived under the same roof, they seemed to spend more time apart than together lately. He was so busy working, driving all over the country to source cars and having business meetings all the time. She was busy with her course and homework, and often fell asleep before he came home.
Brixton Road was heaving with traffic and when they finally got off the bus, the two girls huddled under an umbrella with the shopping bags. Laurel linked her arm though Kim’s. Would it be silly to admit to the things she was worried about? She had nobody else to really talk to about it. It felt like the words were clogging her throat and if she didn’t let them out soon, she’d uncontrollably vomit them up. But she didn’t want to seem like she was complaining either. After all, she was living with Nico in London, studying photography. On the surface, it looked like she’d got everything she’d ever wanted.
Laurel sighed to herself as they dodged the other people wielding umbrellas like shields. What would be the point? Kim wouldn’t understand. She didn’t live with Tom. She’d probably never had to stand in the launderette feeling sick to her stomach because his shirts smelled of another woman’s perfume. She’d probably never wondered if his mood swings were because of her, if she’d done something wrong.
Laurel thought about the cash in her purse. She was absolutely certain that Kim wouldn’t understand why she was worried about the flow of money either. As quickly as it came in, it seemed to go straight back out again and the honest reason she hadn’t spent any of it was because she was scared to. She was forever pulling betting slips from Nico’s jeans and was terrified that the thousand pounds he’d given her would be all they had left if things carried on as they were.
It was probably best not to say anything. Relationship anxiety was surely just part of life, especially with a live-wire like Nico. And anyway, Kim would be going back home tomorrow. She didn’t want to cloud their time together with her paranoia, so she tuned back into what Kim was saying as they walked back to the flat.
*
Almost four months after seeing it grow smaller and smaller in the wing mirror of Nico’s car, Laurel looked up at her parents’ house. Fairy lights blinked in the windows and even through the heavy-duty net curtains, the outline of yet more lights on the Christmas tree was clearly visible. She looked behind her at the Papoulis’ house. After a quick hello, she’d left Nico there and for the first time since setting off from London earlier that afternoon, she could finally breathe. She didn’t know what was going on with him but something had changed. Ever since Kim’s visit a fortnight ago, he’d become less and less playful and more and more sulky.
At first, she’d wondered whether it was something she’d done. Maybe she ignored him while Kim was there, or had done something else to make him regret asking her to move in with him. He was being so dismissive and cold; she couldn’t help but think it was down to her. Then, she’d wondered if there was a problem with work. He seemed so agitated, constantly bouncing his knee when sitting on the sofa, or gnawing the end of a pen. He barely ate, barely slept, and snapped over every single little thing. The drive up today had been unbearable.
Nico had talked and talked so much that his words had felt like bullets hurtling into her head. He’d talked about everything: his work, her course, their sex life, his sex life before they’d met, why Hassan had annoyed him the other day. He’d given a running commentary on the traffic, the meaning behind the lyrics to “The Fairy Tale of New York” by The Pogues, the weather, his thoughts on the origins of AIDS and his predictions for how Christmas would go. And he’d said all of it without pausing to let her get a word in. It was as if he’d waited especially for the moment she’d be sat inches away from him, stuck in traffic and forced to listen with nothing to distract her. And when they did hit a clear stretch of road, he’d driven like a maniac, going well over the speed limit and getting too close to the cars in front, intimidating them until he could pass. She might as well have not been there at all and in fact, she’d wished she weren’t. She loved him but she’d never wanted anyone to shut up and leave her alone so badly before. How did that work? And what did it mean?
La
urel took a deep breath. It didn’t mean anything. It was probably just a side effect of the adrenaline rushing through her veins from the drive combined with tiredness. They’d spend the evening apart tonight. It was better that way. He could be with his family, she could be with hers, and everything would look better in the morning.
She slid her key into the lock like she had so many times before and stepped inside. The hallway smelled of an enticing blend of apples and nutmeg, a clear sign that her mum was making her legendary mince pies. The warmth of the house was like a big hug and Laurel smiled as she dropped her bags onto the carpeted floor.
‘Anyone home?’ she called, shrugging off her coat.
The living room door opened, and she turned to see George.
‘Finally! You took your sweet time.’ He grinned before pulling her in for a fierce hug
Laurel squeezed him back. She’d missed him so much that it was hard to remember ever having a moment’s frustration with him.
‘Wow, you look great,’ she said after they pulled away. ‘Your hair’s so long.’
‘I know. It’s The Lost Boys look.’ He flicked it out of his eyes before looking at her with his trademark-raised eyebrow. ‘Yours on the other hand…’
He held a lock of it between his thumb and forefinger, and Laurel shrugged him off.
‘I haven’t had time to do anything with it.’
The peroxide had grown out, leaving behind huge brown roots. Compared to the gorgeous bob she’d left for London with, it was almost unrecognisable.
‘We’ll have to sort it out tonight. You can’t possibly have hair like that for Christmas,’ George said, as if bad hair was the ultimate festive crime.
Laurel laughed. ‘Deal.’
She followed him into the living room where their dad was sitting in the armchair reading The Radio Times as he did every Christmas Eve.
‘There she is,’ Robert said, holding the corner of his glasses. He looked up at her with a smile she hadn’t seen in years. ‘We’ve been wondering where you got to.’
What Goes Down: An emotional must-read of love, loss and second chances Page 18