by Byrne, Tanya
I ordered four and downed one at the bar, before I turned to face the crowd again. I tried to go a different way this time so I wouldn’t spill the beer, but it meant going through a knot of blokes who cheered when they saw me.
‘Alright, Pink Lady?’ One of them said, reaching down to pinch my arse.
I hissed at him, but with three beers in my hands, I couldn’t do much else. So he pinched it again and I pulled away, stomping back to Sid and Juliet, seething impotently.
They were still kissing and Juliet giggled when she saw me. ‘Sorry!’ she said, taking one of the beers, and I had to resist the urge to throw the other two in her face.
As soon as I gave Sid his, I started to slide back into the crowd, but he grabbed me by the elbow. ‘Hey. Where you going?’ he asked with a frown.
‘Sorry!’ I said, peeling off the pass and handing it back to him.
I tried to slide away again, but he wouldn’t let go of my elbow. ‘I don’t mean that!’ The band was so loud that he had to lean towards me, his mouth against the shell of my ear. The heat of his breath felt so nice, I wanted to cry. ‘What’s wrong, Ro?’
‘Nothing!’ I leaned in to tell him, but there’s no way of shouting that without sounding like something’s wrong.
‘Sorry if we embarrassed you! We don’t want you to feel left out!’
We. We. We. I hate that word. Never has a word made me feel so lonely.
I could hear Juliet asking what was wrong, and I pulled away. ‘I don’t!’
‘Where are you going, then?’ he asked when I started to walk away.
‘I’m getting another beer! I’m not going back to the bar once they get on!’
Except I didn’t go back to the bar, I downed my beer and headed straight for the doors to the lobby. I made a point of passing through the knot of blokes and they cheered again when they saw me. This time I had my hands free, so I put them on the shoulders of the one who had pinched me on the arse and kneed him right in the bollocks.
When he folded to the floor, I kept walking. I walked and walked until I was in the lobby, then on the pavement, then on the tube.
‘What did you do, Emily, when you saw them kissing?’ I heard Doctor Gilyard ask, but I couldn’t stop staring at the blotter, at my name. I didn’t recognise it. It didn’t look like it belonged to me.
‘I left.’
‘Where did you go?’
‘To Juliet’s house.’
‘Why?’
My eyes lost focus as I remembered walking through the side gate to find Mike there, smoking a cigarette. He frowned when he saw me. ‘What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at the Beastie Boys gig with Nancy?’
I didn’t answer, just licked my lips. He watched me, his eyes suddenly black. When he edged closer, I licked my lips again. ‘Give me that,’ I told him, taking the cigarette and making sure our fingers touched when I did.
‘I went to finish what I’d started,’ I told Doctor Gilyard.
Through the blur, I could see wet dots appearing on the blotter and I stared at them. I guess that was our tipping point – mine and Juliet’s – that moment with Mike. The moment I’d had enough of flicking matches at her and finally set light to everything she had.
I woke up the next morning in my make-up with the taste of cigarettes in my mouth.
For a moment, I didn’t know where I was. The air was still sweet with perfume from when I got ready the night before, so I thought I was at St Jude’s. When I opened my eyes, I half expected to find Olivia on the other side of the room face down on her bed, her pillow streaked with eyeliner and one leg poking out from under the duvet. But when my eyes adjusted, I saw my wardrobe and realised I was in London and it came back to me all at once.
That happens every morning, even now. There’s a minute when I first wake up where everything is watery and edgeless, like the Monet postcard Juliet had taped to the inside of her locker at college. My head is empty, I guess. Clean. And in that minute everything is quiet again. Nothing is broken. My life is as it should be; I’m at St Jude’s; Dad is at home, eating a fry-up and reading the paper; Uncle Alex is listening to the football results in his car and swearing at the radio; Duck is asleep on the suit Dad has laid out on his bed.
I could quite happily lose the other twenty-three hours and fifty-nine minutes of the day if I could just keep that one minute. I could live a whole life in that minute. That’s where Emily Koll is right now, in that minute. But I can’t and as soon as it passes, it all comes back in a rush. I remember. The cracks reappear. And it’s so cruel, having that reprieve, because of all the things I want to forget, it isn’t what I’ve done, it’s what I had. Who I was.
No one else remembers Emily Koll with any fondness, so why should I?
That morning was worse, though, because I didn’t just remember what Juliet did, I remembered what I did – with Mike – and the weight of it pinned me to the bed. I tried to get up, but I couldn’t. My bones felt as thick as branches, my heart like a rock. I didn’t think I’d ever have the strength, that I’d have to live there for ever, on that bed, in that room, with the smell of perfume in the air.
I tried again and managed to lift my head off the pillow to check the clock on my bedside table. I had to blink a couple of times before the red lines on the digital display came back into focus, but when they realigned I realised it was 11:11. Make a wish, I thought, but gave in to the weight of my head before I could.
When I opened my eyes again, it was almost one in the afternoon and I felt worse. Every part of me ached, even my fingernails. And my head – oh my head – felt full of something, like that yellow sponge they used to stuff sofas with. I hadn’t shut the curtains before I went to bed so the sunlight spilled through the window, making my eyes sting. I went to pull the duvet over my head but realised it wasn’t there; I wasn’t underneath it, I was curled up on top of it in the clothes I’d worn the day before.
I hadn’t even taken my shoes off.
I groaned and sat up, blindly reaching for the bottle of water on my bedside table. I drained it in a few desperate gulps as I turned my phone on and waited. After a second or two, it sprang to life, the screen flashing with a list of text messages and voicemails. I jumped as it started ringing and jumped again as I realised it was Mike. Then, as if I wasn’t already a wreck, someone started pounding on my front door.
My whole body went rigid, my fingers curling around my phone. I waited, hoping it was just someone coming to check the meter or to shake a charity tin at me. But the knocking got more and more persistent until I was sure the door was going to give way.
I crept down the hallway, my heart on my tongue, and peered through the peephole.
Juliet.
‘Alright,’ I muttered, the muscles in my shoulders softening as I opened the door.
When I did, she was standing on my doormat, looking at me with utter contempt. ‘So you’re alive.’ She crossed her arms. ‘What happened to you last night?’
‘I wasn’t well,’ I said. It didn’t take much effort to sound pathetic.
‘We missed the gig looking for you. Why aren’t you answering your phone?’
‘I lost it.’
She nodded at my right hand. ‘Isn’t that it?’
‘It was under the sofa,’ I told her, tucking it into the back pocket of my jeans in case Mike called again and she saw. ‘I just found it.’
‘Sid’s mum’s in the hospital,’ she said with a sigh, throwing it at me like a rock. My legs almost gave way. I reached for the door and realised I was already holding it.
‘What?’
‘She tried to kill herself.’
‘What?’
‘He came home to find her last night.’
It was like a succession of slaps. I stared at her. ‘Last night?’
My stomach lurched so suddenly, I was sure I was about to vomit at her feet.
‘This is my fault,’ I murmured.
I didn’t think she’d heard me, but
when I lifted my eyelashes to look at her, she looked so angry, I thought she was going to hit me. ‘Can you not, Rose?’
‘Not what?’
‘Can you not make this about you?’ she said with a sneer. ‘Don’t get me wrong, Rose, it’s quite a gift, how you can turn every conversation, every situation, back around to yourself. Even Sid’s mother trying to kill herself is about you.’
She stopped to roll her eyes and I wanted to fly at her, tell her that I wasn’t being melodramatic; it was about me, if Sid hadn’t been looking for me, he would have been at home and he might have been able to stop his mum, to talk to her. But Juliet had obviously been practising her little speech, so I let her have the stage.
‘When you change a light bulb, Rose, do you just hold it up’ – she pointed at the ceiling – ‘and wait for the world to revolve around you?’
I’ve never wanted to kill her more than at that moment. I wanted to bite the smirk off her face. But I straightened up. I was only a couple of inches taller than she was, but it was enough.
‘Feel better?’
‘Not really.’ She crossed her arms again. ‘Sid’s mum’s in intensive care, but he’s out of his mind worrying about you. So can you let him know you’re okay so he can focus on his mum for a while? I think she needs his attention more, what with her nearly dying.’
I had to close the door on her then, otherwise I would have punched her.
Mercifully, she wasn’t at the hospital when I got there.
‘Ro!’ Sid gasped when he saw me. I suppose it should have been awkward after I’d disappeared during the gig, but standing in the waiting room of the ITU, surrounded by sobbing, shaking families, it all seemed so juvenile.
He scooped me up into a hug and when he put me back on my feet, I smiled softly and asked him if he was okay.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked.
I looked around, half expecting Juliet to come flying at me. ‘Where’s Nance?’
‘She had to go home for a sec; Eve needed to talk to her about something.’
I wanted to ask why, but the word got caught in my throat as my cheeks started to burn. So I tried to change the subject. ‘I brought you something.’
I held up a plastic bag and he peered into it. ‘There’d better be some Smarties in here.’
‘’Course. I drank all the Stella on the bus, though.’
He tipped his head back and laughed. I don’t think I’ve ever been so relieved to hear someone laugh. The sound was so warm, so bright that, for a moment, it made me giggle too.
‘Only you would joke about that here, Ro.’
I realised what I’d said and gasped. ‘Sorry. I didn’t think.’
‘Don’t apologise,’ he said, draping an arm across my shoulders and kissing the top of my head. ‘I don’t want to think for a while, either.’
‘Fag?’ I suggested and his face lit up.
‘Quick. Before Nance gets back.’
‘Is she alright? Your mum?’ I asked, while we were waiting for the lift. There was a Christmas tree in the corner, its coloured lights blinking merrily. I remember how strange it looked – vulgar, almost – next to a poster reminding visitors to use the hand gel in the dispenser provided before they went into the ITU.
Sid slipped his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and shrugged. ‘She’s better. They’re moving her out of intensive care, but she tried to kill herself so I don’t think so.’
It knocked the air right out of me and I just looked at him for a moment.
‘I’m so sorry, Sid. I don’t know what to say,’ I admitted, looking at my feet.
‘That’s okay, ’cos I don’t want to talk about it.’
Thankfully, the lift arrived then and he held the door open so that I could get in. It was full, so we had to squeeze in, but as soon as the doors closed, I reached for his hand like I had at the cemetery. I didn’t look at him and he didn’t look at me, I just squeezed it and he squeezed mine back, so hard I felt my ring dig into my knuckle.
When we got outside, I didn’t push him. I didn’t ask how he was feeling or tell him that everything was going to be okay, I just lit a cigarette and handed it to him. We passed it back and forth and when it was finished, he sat on the railing and peered at me from under his eyelashes.
‘Come here,’ he said, and he looked exhausted, like his mother had at that wedding, like he hadn’t slept for years and years.
I stood between his legs, and when he put his arms around my waist and pulled me to him, I shivered. I shivered again when he dipped his head, resting his forehead on my shoulder. I didn’t know what to do. I suppose I should have said something comforting, held him and spun him a line about how everything was going to be okay, but I just stood there, my hands fisted in the front of his jacket, so I wouldn’t touch him.
I never did, you know. Touch him, I mean. I read what they said in the papers, that I threw myself at him, that I led him on. SHAMELESS, the Mirror wrote in capital letters under a picture of me once, but I never laid a finger on him.
I won’t lie, I wanted to. There were days when we were in the park, eating chips and bickering about our dream Glastonbury line-up, when the urge to touch him was unbearable. The number of times I almost reached a hand up to twirl a wave of his hair around my finger or I wanted to run my thumb along his bottom lip. But I didn’t. And I didn’t that afternoon outside the hospital, either. I just waited for him to lift his head again and look at me.
‘Thanks, Ro,’ he said with a long sigh.
I told myself to let go of his jacket. ‘For what?’
‘For this.’
‘For what? I didn’t do anything.’
‘Exactly,’ he said with a tired smile. ‘Nance is amazing, she hasn’t left my side, but she’s so practical. So far today she’s brought me two sandwiches, five cups of tea and made me read a load of leaflets about depression.’ He stopped to rub his face in his hands. ‘She’s even been looking up local AA meetings.’
‘Yeah, but you need that stuff. I brought you a tube of Smarties and twenty B&H, how’s that gonna help?’
‘It does.’ He reached for my hand and when he pressed a kiss to my palm, the shock of it made me take a step back.
‘We should get back inside. I’m freezing,’ I told him, my nerves rattling.
But he didn’t move. ‘This is my fault, isn’t it, Ro? What happened to Mum.’
‘What?’ I took a step towards him again. ‘No.’
He shook his head. ‘I should have done something when I found the bottles.’
‘What were you supposed to do?’ I waited until he looked at me again. ‘It was her choice. It was a bad one, but we’re the kids and they’re the grown-ups, they’re supposed to know what they’re doing. Why do we always blame ourselves for their mistakes?’
He nodded and he looked so sad I couldn’t bear it. So I raised my hand and smoothed the crease between his eyebrows with my finger. He smiled, but before I could smile back, I was aware of someone standing behind me.
‘She knew?’ I heard someone say and turned to find Juliet watching us.
‘You told her about your mum,’ she looked at Sid, but pointed at me, ‘not me?’
‘Nance,’ he said, jumping down from the railing with a sigh, but she wasn’t listening.
‘You bitch,’ I heard her say before she flew at me.
It happened so quickly that I didn’t have time to raise my hands before she slapped me across the face. I’d never been slapped before. It knocked my eyes out of focus and I fell against the railing. It’s a strange thing to remember, but I remember how cold the metal was as I reached out for it to steady myself. It was so cold I almost let go of it again.
‘Nance! What are you doing?’ Sid grabbed her wrist as she tried to slap me a second time, so she tried to slap me with her left hand, but he grabbed that wrist too. ‘Stop it!’
‘She’s a whore, Sid!’
‘What?’
‘She shagged Mike!’
&
nbsp; Sid let go of her then. ‘What?’
‘She shagged Mike.’ She stopped to blow a curl out of her eyes, her fists clenched at her sides. ‘That’s why I had to go home; Eve wanted to tell me they’re getting a divorce!’
Sid stared at me. ‘I didn’t,’ I breathed, shaking my head. ‘We just kissed.’
‘Like it matters! I thought you were my friend!’ Juliet came at me again, grabbing my hair and pulling so hard I yelped. ‘You ruined everything. I have to live with another family.’
Sid grabbed her wrists again and looked at her. ‘What? Why?’
She stopped then. I suppose I could have told him; because they’re not her aunt and uncle, they’re her foster parents and if Mike leaves, who’ll protect poor, precious Juliet? Perhaps I should have. Perhaps I should have reached up and pushed her off that high horse. Then she would have seen what it was like down in the gutter with me.
But then a woman in a dressing-gown looked at us as a nurse in a Santa hat pushed her wheelchair up the ramp towards the hospital and I remembered where we were.
‘Can we not do this now?’ I said, lowering my voice. ‘I think Sid—’
‘Don’t tell me what’s best for Sid,’ Juliet interrupted with a filthy glare.
I tried again. ‘I don’t think now is the best time to—’
‘No. I want to do this now. I want Sid to know who he’s confiding in.’
‘Well, can we do it somewhere we’re not disturbing a load of sick people?’
‘You’re the sick one, Rose. I know your type.’
I shouldn’t have, but I bit back. ‘My type?’
‘Your family’s broken up, so break up mine. Can’t find a boyfriend? Take mine!’
I saw the tears in her eyes, the way her hand shook as she pointed at me, and my heart. She knew what I’d done. I didn’t even have to tell her and she knew.
Juliet Shaw is a lot of things, but she’s not stupid.
‘I thought we were friends, Rose. I told you everything.’