Bound by Ivy

by S. Quinn

  ‘I slept in until nine,’ I counter.

  ‘It should have been until noon,’ says Rodney. ‘And don’t think I didn’t catch you trying to tidy the kitchen today.’

  ‘I was just doing the cupboards—’

  Rodney wags a finger at me. ‘No more! That’s my department. Now you sit down and I’ll bring in the tea.’

  51

  Before the lesson starts, Denise and I have a catch up about Ivy College. Tom and Tanya are looking very much in love these days, apparently. Which makes me smile a lot. I feel bad, though, about not having seen them since before Christmas.

  Wendy is on a much deserved holiday, so the admin side of college life is a bit of a mess.

  Marc still teaches classes, and the students are all learning plenty. Hearing that makes me pine, not only for Marc, but for his lessons. I learned so much from him in such a short space of time. When he taught me for a week, after the Giles Getty incident, I felt like I really grew.

  After a general catch up, Denise hits me with the bombshell.

  ‘I’m sure you’re aware that Cecile was asked to leave the college,’ Denise says, stirring sugar into her tea.

  ‘I was aware.’

  ‘Her friend Ryan isn’t very happy about it. But he hasn’t had the courage to complain. He just walks around the place with a scowl on his face.’

  ‘I imagine leaving the college must have been devastating for her,’ I say.

  ‘Indeed. The plan was to let her get the help she needed, and then she could come back when she was well again. But … oh the poor girl. Her family won’t have anything to do with her now, what with her leaving the college and being pregnant. So … she’s taken a turn for the worse. And from what I hear, she isn’t getting any help at all.’

  I chew a thumb nail. ‘That’s … bad news,’ I say. ‘To be pregnant and all alone. It must be terrible.’

  ‘Yes. It must be. But she was offered help. She didn’t take it. She’s chosen to go in another direction.’

  ‘Another direction?’

  Denise nods. ‘She’s been seen around certain underground clubs.’

  ‘Oh. I heard that too,’ I say, chewing so hard that a strip of fingernail comes free.

  ‘From Marc?’ asks Denise, raising an eyebrow.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘He’s keeping an eye on her. We all are. But I’m sure everything will work out just fine.’

  ‘Yes,’ I say, uncertainly.

  ‘Shall we get on with the lesson?’

  *****

  It feels weird singing at full volume in my dad’s cottage, especially since I know Dad, Jen, Sammy and Rodney are around the place. But once I get over the embarrassment, Denise and I have a great lesson.

  By the time we’ve finished, I’m reaching notes I’ve never reached before and my voice sounds clearer than ever.

  Rodney brings us an afternoon tea of freshly baked scones, homemade jam and farmyard butter when the lesson is over, and Jen, Dad, Denise and I sit in the lounge, feeding Sammy spoons of jam, eating scones and drinking loose leaf tea.

  It doesn’t take long before Dad starts chatting to Denise about 1960s music, and soon they’re both lost in a world of psychedelic tunes and childhood memories, while the rest of us play with Sammy.

  Seeing my Dad talking to Denise, I realise it’s the first time I’ve seen him properly smile since Christmas morning The two of them are really making each other laugh.

  When we finish our scones, Dad asks Denise if she’d like to stay for the afternoon and a spot of dinner later, and Denise agrees.

  ‘Don’t you have classes to teach at the college?’ I ask.

  ‘Not this afternoon,’ says Denise. ‘You don’t mind me staying, do you Sophia? You can say if you do. I’ll understand. I know I came for Christmas, but a weekday social visit from your teacher might be a step too far.’

  Jen gives a snort of laughter. ‘She’s done much more than that with her teacher.’

  ‘Jen!’

  ‘Sorry. Easy line.’

  ‘I don’t see you as a teacher anyway,’ I tell Denise. ‘You’re a friend.’

  ‘I’m pleased to hear it,’ says Denise. ‘Because you’re a friend too.’

  ‘I’m glad,’ I say. Then I have an idea. ‘Dad, if Denise is staying for the rest of the afternoon and Jen is watching Sammy, how would you feel if I went to visit Marc’s sister before my show? She’s back in hospital now and she must be pretty lonely.’

  I don’t add that with Denise here, I’m no longer needed to keep Dad company.

  Dad frowns a little. ‘Sophia, the whole point of not seeing Marc is so you can do your own thing. Be your own person. Get some distance.’

  ‘It’s not Annabel’s fault that you’ve put me in this position,’ I say. ‘Don’t keep her from having visitors, just because you’re not sure about Marc.’

  Dad sighs. ‘Point taken. Okay. Fine.’

  ‘I’ll be back in time to cook dinner.’

  ‘Oh no you won’t.’ Rodney picks up cups and saucers and loads them onto a tray. ‘Cooking is my department right now. Marc’s orders. You’re to take it easy, and focus on the show.’

  ‘For once, Marc and I agree on something,’ says Dad.

  52

  The hospital isn’t at all what I expect. For a start, it doesn’t look like a hospital. It’s more like a stately home with red brick walls, big chimney stacks and acres of green lawn and fir trees all around.

  Annabel is staying in West London, not far from where Marc took me when Ryan drugged my drink. It takes me a full five minutes to walk up the long stone path to the grand pillared entrance of the hospital.

  I push through a heavy black door into a light, airy reception area with thick carpet, and smell lemon fragrance and camomile tea.

  Waiting on a beige-leather sofa by the reception desk is Annabel.

  ‘Sophia.’ She leaps up and throws her arms around me in a bony hug. ‘I’m so, so glad you came. It’s … I’ve had a bad day today.’

  ‘Then I’m extra glad I came,’ I say. ‘I brought you scones. Tell me about your bad day.’

  I hand her a wicker basket, covered with a red checked cloth.

  ‘Did you make these?’ says Annabel, pulling back the cloth. ‘They smell delicious.’

  ‘I should have,’ I say. ‘But no. Rodney did. Next time I’ll bake you something myself.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. Having you here is more than enough. You don’t need to bring anything other than yourself. It’s such a relief that I can have visitors now. Before Christmas, I was so, so lonely.’

  ‘You’re looking really well,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry to hear today hasn’t been great.’

  Annabel nods and puts the scone basket down on a coffee table. ‘Shall we go for a walk?’

  *****

  As Annabel and I stroll through the green grounds, it’s great to smell the soil and see the bare branches overhead. Sometimes, when I’m at the theatre, I feel like concrete is caving in on me. It’s nice to know there are parts of London, aside from Ivy College, that are green and natural.

  We walk for a while in silence. Then Annabel tells me why she’s had a bad day.

  ‘This morning, I found out that getting my son back isn’t as straightforward as I thought,’ she says. ‘There are lots of assessments. Paperwork. Things I have to prove that I just can’t prove. That I’ll provide a stable home. That there’ll be friends around to support me. That I can earn an income. I … everything just feels impossible right now.’

  Her bony face sags and I notice how much older she looks now we’re in the daylight. I slide an arm through hers.

  ‘I can help you,’ I say. ‘I had to fill out lots of those sorts of forms for Dad when I was younger. Some of the neighbours thought he wasn’t a fit parent. So we had people coming to check on us all the time.’

  ‘I’m surprised to hear you had those sorts of troubles,’ says Annabel.

  ‘We’re a close family,’ I s
ay. ‘But we’ve had hard times, too. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Dad had just lost his wife when all that stuff happened. He was grieving. But anyway, enough about me. Marc and I will help you get everything you need to get your son back.’

  ‘But Marc has already done so much for me. And you have too. The whole point of getting well is so I can stand on my own two feet. I need to stop taking from people and start living.’

  ‘Annabel. You’re beating a major drug addition. Now is exactly the time you need help from other people. Get well first, then you can start giving to others.’

  ‘I don’t know, Sophia. Everything just feels a little hopeless right now. I don’t deserve Daniel. That little boy needs a better mum than me.’

  I shake my head. ‘Annabel, no little boy should grow up in care. You’re a good person. You’ve just had a tough life, that’s all.’ I slide my arm free from hers and put my hands firmly on her shoulders. ‘If you can beat heroin then you can do anything – including being a good mother. And Marc and I will help you every step of the way.’

  53

  I visit Annabel a few more times during the week, and she has good days and bad days. When I see the forms she has to fill in, I get more and more desperate to talk to Marc. I’ve seen those forms before, and I know it’s really important that Annabel has her own place if she’s going to get her son back. So I need to ask Marc if he can help.

  When Friday comes around, I spend most of the day doing internet research at the cottage. I need to know all the laws and regulations about adoption and custody, so I can tell Marc exactly what Annabel needs. It’s important that I don’t leave out any detail. We have to get everything right if Annabel stands a chance of getting her son back.

  By evening time, I’ve got together a long list for Marc and I’m feeling really positive about Annabel’s future.

  Rodney cooks us all a delicious lasagne for dinner, and after we’ve eaten I soak in a hot bath while Sammy sleeps. Jen has already driven back to her apartment and Dad is at work, so the house is nice and quiet – except for the sounds of Rodney tidying the kitchen.

  I’m just towelling myself dry when I hear the doorbell downstairs.

  ‘I’ll get it,’ Rodney calls.

  I hear the clump of heavy feet and Leo’s voice in our hallway.

  ‘Just coming,’ I call out, running out of the bathroom in my towel, and heading to the guest bedroom.

  Typical Leo – he’s standing at the bottom of the staircase as I run past, so he gets a full-length view of me bound up in a white towel, my hair soaking wet.

  ‘Nice outfit,’ he calls up. ‘I thought you might like some company on the way to the show again.’

  ‘Wait in the lounge. I’ll be right down.’

  After I’ve dressed in leggings, Ugg boots and a huge pink sweater, I head downstairs, still towelling my hair.

  Leo is lounging on the sofa wearing ripped jeans and a sweatshirt with a picture of a pastel sunset on it.

  ‘Ah, my favourite co-star. All dressed up and ready to go,’ says Leo. ‘I thought I’d pick you up tonight. You don’t mind, do you?’

  ‘No,’ I say, truthfully. ‘It’ll be nice to have the company in the limo.’

  ‘Hey, what are those yellow flowers in your front garden called? They’re awesome.’

  ‘Daffodils,’ I say. ‘They always come up early around here. I have no idea why.’

  ‘Daff-o-dils,’ says Leo. ‘I should write that down. I want to tell my mom about them. She loves yellow flowers.’

  ‘They’re really easy to grow,’ I say. ‘Just put the bulbs in the ground and that’s it. They come up every year. If you like the front garden, you should see the back. It’s covered in them right now.’

  ‘Wow. Can I see?’

  ‘Sure.’

  Leo follows me outside, and I point out the bright daffodils sprouting from every flowerbed. They make a blanket of yellow petals around the lawn.

  ‘Pretty,’ says Leo.

  ‘Aren’t they?’

  ‘You know, I’m sure gonna miss you. When the show finishes.’

  ‘We’ve got ages before the show finishes,’ I protest. ‘We’re only half way through the run.’

  ‘I guess maybe time is going slower for you than it is for me,’ says Leo, throwing me a wonky grin. ‘But you’re having fun, right? At least some of the time?’

  I smile. ‘Yes. It’s fun. Working with you is fun. And performing is fun too. I just wish I didn’t miss Marc so much.’

  ‘Still miss him, huh?’ says Leo.

  I nod. ‘More than ever.’

  ‘Shame. But if you ever get lonely in the night, you know where I am.’

  I laugh.

  ‘Hey, laugh all you like, but if it wasn’t for Marc Blackwell you might just have given me a shot by now. We could be living happily ever after.’

  ‘You’re not my type. And you’re only interested in me because you can’t have me.’

  ‘So untrue,’ says Leo. ‘Well. Maybe a little bit true. But how do you know I’m not your type?’

  ‘I just know.’

  ‘I always thought I’d hate frozen yoghurt. And then I tried it. And now I love the stuff.’

  ‘Trust me. I don’t need to try you out to know you’re not my type.’

  ‘Are you sure about that?’ Leo drops his face so our noses are almost touching. He rests a hand on my shoulder. ‘You could be missing out on something incredible.’

  Before I know what’s happening, his lips touch mine and his arms come around my body, pulling me close.

  54

  It feels like so long since I’ve been held or kissed. So very, very long. And as Leo’s lips press harder against mine and begin moving softly, I don’t pull away. I let it happen, because I’ve missed this – being close to someone. Feeling someone’s hand stroke my hair. Strong arms around my body.

  Leo’s lips work back and forth, opening and exploring. His hand slides around my hair and his chest presses tight against mine. I have to admit, it feels good. But it’s Marc I’ve missed kissing. I don’t want to kiss anyone else.

  I pull away, feeling a shame I’ve never known before. My skin is sticky with guilt.

  I step back, shaking my head. ‘Oh god. Leo I didn’t mean for that to happen -’

  Leo runs his fingers through his thick, blond hair. ‘Actually, I didn’t either. Guess I just had to try it out.’

  ‘You did that all right,’ I whisper, feeling guilt, shame and embarrassment tumbling around in one awful sickly spin cycle. ‘God, why did I let that happen? Why? I love Marc.’

  I look away from Leo, feeling tears come.

  ‘Hey.’ Leo puts steadying hands on my shoulders. ‘It wasn’t your fault. I kissed you, remember? And you’ve been away from your boyfriend for over a month. Don’t be too hard on yourself. Be hard on me instead. It was my fault. I should have realised how vulnerable you were.’

  Tears slide down my cheeks. ‘I have to tell Marc what happened.’

  Leo shakes his head. ‘No you don’t. It was an accident, that’s all. And it wasn’t your fault. I should have known better. We’re friends and nothing more. I should know that by now. You’ve told me often enough.’

  ‘I can’t keep it a secret,’ I say, close to tears.

  ‘Who would you tell him for? Him or yourself?’

  ‘He’ll find out, Leo. Whether I tell him or not. There are cameras out here.’ I feel sick. ‘I don’t want to risk him finding out second-hand. It has to come from me.’

  ‘I don’t see why it’s such a big deal,’ says Leo. ‘It was just a friendly kiss, that’s all. We kiss on stage every night.’

  I chew at my thumbnail. ‘I shouldn’t have let it happen.’

  ‘Then at least tell him it was my fault. I mean, it was my fault.’

  I shake my head. ‘I should have pulled away sooner.’

  ‘Hey, you’re only human.’

  ‘Please don’t joke.’

  ‘Sorry. But seriou
sly, that kiss was nothing. I could tell you weren’t into it. It was a stupid thing to do. I’m an idiot.’

  ‘You and me both,’ I say, feeling the nausea wrap itself around my waist. ‘I need to find him. Right now.’

  ‘But what about the show?’

  I hesitate.

  ‘Are you going to just disappear and let down all those people?’ Leo asks.

  ‘I …’

  ‘Come on, Sophia. You know as well as I do that your audience can’t wait. They’ve paid to see you tonight.’

  I find my eyes drifting to the pink patio stones under my feet.

  ‘Don’t you have your weekly phone call with Marc tonight?’ Leo asks.

  I nod.

  ‘So. Call him after the show,’ says Leo. ‘He probably doesn’t even know what just happened. Maybe he won’t care. I mean, it’s no big deal. I kissed you and you pulled away.’

  ‘Okay,’ I say, the sinking feeling reaching my toes. ‘Yes, you’re right. The audience can’t wait.’

  55

  All through the show I feel sick. I perform okay – I’m kind of on automatic pilot, reading my lines and singing my songs like a robot. But the whole time I’m driving myself crazy, wondering what’s going to happen when I tell Marc.

  When the curtain falls, I’m just a mess. I don’t know what to feel or think.

  What if Marc leaves me? What if he leaves me? God, I can’t even bear to think that …

  I run straight to my dressing room and grab my phone. But of course, there’s no reception down there, so I change and head up to the street.

  I’m buffeted around by the theatre crowds on the street as I dial Marc’s number again, and to my relief the call connects first time.

  ‘Sophia?’ Marc’s voice is low. ‘Where are you? You’re supposed to get straight in the limo after the show.’

  ‘I needed to speak to you,’ I blurt out, my voice shaky. ‘Marc, something happened. Something bad. I need to see you.’

  ‘Sophia, calm down. Tell me what’s wrong. Are you okay? Are you hurt.’

  ‘No, nothing like that.’

  ‘Good.’ I hear the relief in Marc’s voice. ‘Get in the limo. Keith will drive you to Ivy College. I’ll meet you there.’