Nothing But Trouble

by Matt Cain

  ‘And we’ll obviously be in touch to arrange your first outpatient appointment,’ interjected Dr Buckingham. As she spoke, Karen’s eyes were drawn to the wart hanging off her ear. She imagined what would happen if she took out a pair of scissors and simply snipped it off. But before she’d had a chance to picture the scene, the doctor stood up and straightened her pencil skirt. ‘And well done, Miss Grant, the work you’ve done here has been really tough. I know it’s only the beginning of the process but I think you can be very proud of yourself.’

  Karen wasn’t used to being talked to like this by doctors or indeed anyone in a position of authority. She tried to pinpoint what it was that made it so different and could only think it was that she was being treated with respect. She wasn’t sure how to respond but Dr Buckingham held out her hand so she shook it.

  ‘Great, well I’ll see you again, I suppose,’ she managed.

  ‘Yes, I’m sure you will.’

  Karen gave her a sincere smile. ‘And thanks for everything, Dr Fuckingham.’

  Yes! Slipped it in after all!

  ‘Oh, I’m so sorry!’ she grovelled as the doctor gasped out loud. ‘I’ve no idea where that came from. Honestly, two months in here and my head’s mashed!’

  ‘It’s fine, don’t worry about it. It’s, urm, it’s easily done, I suppose.’

  ‘I obviously meant to say thanks for everything, Dr Buckingham.’

  ‘Yes, well, it was my pleasure. And we’ve enjoyed working with you, Miss Grant.’

  Harvey opened the door and swept her away.

  ‘You did that on purpose, didn’t you?’ he asked as soon as they were in the car. ‘Calling her Doctor Fuckingham?’

  Karen’s eyes sparkled mischievously. ‘I might have done, yeah.’

  ‘Well, I’ve got to hand it to you, it was hilarious. But do you know who you reminded me of when you did it?’

  ‘No, who?’

  ‘Lola. That was exactly the kind of thing Lola would have done. Especially when someone was being nice to her.’

  There was a reflective silence as Karen got into the car and clicked in her seat belt. She felt comforted to know that, after all these years of distance, she and Lola might have something in common after all. She gazed out of the window as Harvey started the engine and the car pulled away. The Abbey, which she was pretty sure had never been an abbey but a stately home belonging to a gambling-addicted earl, disappeared behind them. She thought about its nickname, the Abyss, and how low she’d sunk just before she’d admitted herself. And sure, she still looked a mess with her sunken cheeks, ravaged complexion and missing teeth. But inside she felt like she was leaving the clinic a completely different person.

  ‘So how is Lola, anyway?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah, she’s great, thanks.’

  ‘Really? She didn’t look great when she fell down those stairs in Norway.’

  ‘Sweden.’

  ‘Oh wherever it was. But people don’t get off their faces like that when they’re happy – I’ve just spent the last two months having that drilled into me.’ She almost stopped mid-sentence as she realized she’d hit on another similarity between mother and daughter. ‘Anyway, are you sure she’s OK?’

  ‘Yeah, honestly. You know what she’s like – she’s always been high-spirited.’

  Hmpf! People used to say that about me . . .

  ‘And do you think she might come and see me when I’m home?’

  Harvey cleared his throat nervously. ‘Yeah, I’m sure she will. One day. Once work has settled down a bit.’

  ‘Which basically means not for ages.’

  ‘No! I’ll bring it up with her next time I get a chance. I promise.’

  Karen arched an eyebrow. ‘Hold on a minute. Does Lola even know you’ve come to take me home today?’

  Harvey’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. ‘Not exactly. She’s really busy rehearsing for the tour and everything and I just didn’t want to bother her with anything else.’

  ‘Bollocks! You’re worried about her, aren’t you?’

  ‘No! What makes you say that?’

  ‘Because I might have been a crackhead for the last twenty years but I can still tell when someone’s lying. Believe me, I’ve spent a lot of time around people who do nothing but. And I’ve told more than a few lies myself – as I’m sure Lola hasn’t wasted any time explaining.’

  Let go of the bitterness, she reminded herself, repeating the words of her therapist at the Abbey. Picture it drifting away and floating out into the sky. At the start of her treatment, exercises like this had seemed far-fetched and just plain daft. But she’d forced herself to get over her scepticism and play along – and had gradually learned to trust that they worked. Now she didn’t hesitate to employ the techniques she’d been taught to avoid giving in to the feelings she knew would lead her back to drugs.

  There was another silence and Karen looked out of the window. She couldn’t believe how far she’d come in just two months. Although at the same time she knew Dr Buckingham was right and a lot of the hard work still lay ahead – forging a new life for herself in the real world. As the Berkshire countryside whizzed by, the September sun strobed through the trees. It was almost as if it were willing her on.

  ‘So come on then,’ she said, ‘are you going to tell me what’s going on?’

  ‘It’s no big deal,’ Harvey replied, ‘but Lola’s under a lot of pressure at the moment. I’m sure it’s nothing more than that, but I just don’t want to add to it.’

  ‘What do you mean, “add to it”? I’m leaving rehab and going home – isn’t that good news? Or do you mean you don’t want to get her hopes up in case I get out and go straight round to my dealer’s?’

  ‘No, it’s not that, Karen. Honestly.’

  Like hell it isn’t. Although she could hardly hold it against him; she’d only known him for five years and he must have come to pick her up from rehab just as many times. But this time it’s different.

  ‘Anyway, what’s going on between you two?’ she asked. ‘I thought you told each other everything? What do you mean “you’re sure it’s nothing more than that”?’

  ‘Yeah, we do tell each other everything. But, you know, the new single’s out, she’s rehearsing for the big tour – there’s a lot of stress flying around.’

  ‘You’ve not fallen out, have you?’

  ‘No, not at all.’

  ‘Is it something to do with that Freddy Jones?’

  She spotted his jaw stiffen. It IS something to do with Freddy Jones.

  Over the last few days the papers had been full of Lola’s date with the handsome entertainment correspondent from Channel 3 News. According to one journalist quoting a source close to her, the new couple were so blissfully happy they were already looking to buy a place and move in together. Funnily enough, it was when Karen had first heard the news that she’d known the treatment she’d been having must have been working. Ordinarily she’d have felt a jolt of jealousy as she looked at the photo of Lola kissing Freddy outside some trendy restaurant. It would have reminded her of all the scumbags and scrotes she’d dated over the years – not that she’d ever done much dating, more like shagging when she was off her face or being pimped out to her dealer’s mates when she couldn’t pay her debts. But on this occasion, she’d felt a stirring of joy at the sight of her daughter’s happiness. It was about time she found a nice guy after some of the dickheads who’d made her so unhappy. Mind you, from the tension currently whitening Harvey’s knuckles, it didn’t look like she was happy at all.

  ‘It’s got nothing to do with Freddy Jones,’ he stated firmly.

  Bollocks! She could tell from his face it had everything to do with Freddy Jones. He obviously wasn’t as much of a nice guy as the papers were making out. And she might have known – he was a journo after all. And she’d had enough of them offering her cash to dish the dirt on Lola to work out what they were all like. But if Harvey didn’t want to tell her the truth she’d just h
ave to play along.

  ‘All right, Harvey, whatever you say.’

  She’d give him one thing, though. All this time she’d been thinking Lola was her father’s daughter but here was the person who knew her best saying she was just like her mum. For the first time in years she felt a glimmer of hope that she and Lola might be able to salvage something from the wreckage of their relationship. The only problem was, if Lola was anything like her mum she’d be in serious danger of destroying herself before they reached that point. And from what Karen could infer from her conversation with Harvey, it looked like she might already be well on the way.

  *

  Lola looked at the stack of papers as it thumped down onto the table in front of her. She flicked through a few tabloids and saw they were full of stories about her supposed relationship with Freddy. ‘LOLA FINDS SWEETHEART AFTER LIFETIME OF TRAMPS,’ read one headline. According to another, the blissfully happy couple were planning a Christmas wedding. Oh what have I done now?

  She was sitting with Barbara in the lounge area of Musicmaker rehearsal studios, preparing for a big interview with the showbiz editor of the biggest-selling red top in the country. The plan had been to promote the release of Tramp, which according to the midweeks was set to enter the singles chart at number one this weekend. But from what Barbara was saying, there’d be another topic of conversation right at the top of the agenda.

  ‘What’s going on, doll?’ she asked. ‘Are you seeing Freddy Jones or not?’

  ‘No, I mean yes. Well, I mean, we did blatantly go on one date, which is when the paps got that picture, obviously. And we had a really nice time and everything but I haven’t seen him since. To be honest, darlin’, he’s fit and I fancy him but I just can’t go there right now.’

  Barbara nodded, mulling it over. Lola wondered if she’d heard the rumours about her seeing Jake – or if she’d been too caught up in her own long-distance relationship with the German radio producer with the laugh like a hiccup. If she had heard anything, she wasn’t letting on. Good old Barb, always sensitive, never questioning or criticizing. Why can’t Harvey be like that? Ever since her date with Freddy he’d been pestering her about setting up another. No doubt he’d be grinning with glee at all this newspaper coverage.

  Barbara folded her arms. ‘OK, so what are we going to tell this journo now?’

  ‘Well, I blatantly don’t want to string him along but I also don’t want to hurt Freddy.’ Not that I haven’t hurt him enough already. Lola thought back to their date and how wonderful it had been until she’d ruined it. Her actions had been selfish and thoughtless and she hadn’t been able to shake off her guilt about it since. Why do I always seem to do the wrong thing?

  ‘Well, whatever you say,’ cautioned Barbara, ‘it’s got to be good because we don’t want to go pissing off Freddy Jones or Channel 3 News. The show’s ratings might be on the slide but it’s still the most popular news programme on telly – and we need to keep them sweet.’

  Oh my God, thought Lola, how have I got us into this mess on top of everything else?

  ‘Can’t I just tell the truth?’ she asked Barbara. ‘Can’t I just say I really like Freddy but I’ve just got too much other stuff going on right now – and I’m not in the right place for a relationship?’ Not that that’s the whole truth but it isn’t exactly a lie . . .

  ‘Yeah but maybe you should soften the blow a bit. How about warming it up by saying you think Freddy’s lovely but you just want to be friends?’

  Lola could hear a train clattering along the tracks through the window behind them. ‘Yeah, all right. OK. If you think that’s best.’

  Barbara nodded firmly. ‘Great, that’s settled. Now let me go and get this journo – he’s waiting in reception.’

  Lola leant forward and looked again at the stack of papers on the coffee table. Once again she was confronted by the sight of her own image gaily kissing Freddy outside the entrance to Scran. Oh what was I thinking? She took the papers and dropped them into the bin.

  *

  Freddy tried to concentrate as he googled background information on a children’s fashion designer he was about to interview who’d been propelled to fame when the Duchess of Cambridge had dressed Prince George in her latest designs to open a sausage roll factory in Skipton. But he was finding it a real struggle. He knew nothing about fashion – let alone children’s fashion. What on earth’s a shortall?

  Besides, he had much more pressing personal matters on his mind. If you could call a very public brush-off a personal matter. He picked up the newspaper from his desk and reread its front-page boast of a ‘world exclusive’ interview in which Lola Grant ‘sensationally reveals the truth about her relationship with red-headed reporter Freddy Jones’. He opened the paper at the centre spread but already knew where his eyes would settle – on Lola’s description of Freddy as ‘lovely’ but her admission that she ‘just wanted to be friends’. Even though he’d been staring at the words for most of the morning, they still hit him like the bumps and thuds of a particularly aggressive team of opponents on a rugby pitch.

  ‘I’m sorry, love,’ said Dolly Dawson with a stomach-wrenchingly sympathetic smile. ‘Let me know if you want to talk about it.’

  ‘Bad luck, boyo,’ boomed Hugh Badcock. ‘But look on the bright side – all those housewives will only love you more now you’ve been dumped!’

  He wasn’t sure he could take it much longer – and was almost looking forward to interviewing the fashion designer just so he could get out of the newsroom. The worst thing was, all week he’d had to put up with his colleagues winding him up about his ‘pop star girlfriend’ as the papers had built up their single date into the romance of the year. The last time he’d looked, one had quoted a ‘close friend’ of Lola’s saying she was madly in love with him and the couple were about to start trying for a baby. And now here he was being blown out in an interview with the most popular red top in the country.

  As if the date itself hadn’t been confusing enough with Lola blowing hot and cold and then launching herself at him in front of all those paps. What the hell was she up to? He couldn’t call her as he still didn’t have her number and he couldn’t plug Spike for information seeing as Harvey hadn’t spoken to him since he’d told him he’d been unfaithful. Freddy looked at Spike now sullenly tossing a ball from one hand to another as he gazed aimlessly into space, his baseball cap pulled down so far it hid most of his face. Once they’d got through this shoot he’d take him out for a drink and try and cheer him up.

  He had no idea how he was going to cheer himself up. What was it with him? Why was it that girls always seemed to blow him out by saying he was lovely and they just wanted to be friends? Am I too nice, like? Is that what it is? If it was that, he couldn’t understand why so many of the girls he dated wanted to be treated like crap. He knew it was supposed to be something to do with low self-esteem but how could that be true of Lola, who had to be the most popular and successful woman in Britain? Or was it that something was wrong with him? That’s it, that has to be it. I’m just an unsophisticated, unexciting ginger Welsh guy. Why would anyone want to go out with me?

  The only thing was, he’d been convinced when he and Lola had been on their date that the energy between them wasn’t just friendly but distinctly flirtatious. That was until she’d disappeared to the loo and come back with a face like thunder. No, I don’t buy all this bullshit about her having too much other stuff going on in her life to commit to a relationship. That kind of thing was always just an excuse. If she did really like him then surely she’d just ask him to wait a while?

  He looked again at the paper and the photo of Lola perched next to the journalist, about to tell all. No, there was more going on than she’d made out in the interview. And what he’d give to find out what it was.

  *

  ‘How about this one?’ Harvey asked. ‘It’s cocky and feisty. I love it.’

  ‘Yep, that’s fierce,’ agreed Lola. ‘Put it in the Yes bin, bla
tantly.’

  The two of them were sitting in front of Harvey’s laptop in the private kitchen area of Pomegranate Dance Studios, sipping extra-hot skinny lattes and sorting through images of Lola for use in the tour programme and merchandise. The problem was, she’d been so shattered and in such a foul mood on the day of the shoot they were having to reject more than three quarters of the photos.

  ‘What about this one?’ asked Harvey, clicking onto a close-up shot of her making a diamond-shaped hole with her fingers and thumbs and winking through it.

  ‘Are you taking the piss?’ huffed Lola. ‘It looks like I’ve got a lazy eye. Never mind the No bin – put that in the Trash.’

  She took a sip of her coffee. Her relationship with her manager had been tense since they’d got back from Barcelona and that tension had increased when she’d announced in the national press that she just wanted to be friends with Freddy. Not that it’s got anything to do with him, she thought, gazing in horror at a shot of her looking like she’d only had an hour’s sleep. Which, if she remembered rightly, she had; the photo session, her second with Mark and Mark, had taken place the morning after the night Jake had turned up at her flat shit-faced and, once he’d shot his load, rolled over and snored so loudly she hadn’t been able to get back to sleep, spending the rest of the night fretting about why she’d faked her first orgasm. ‘Nope, get rid of that one,’ she frowned.

  Harvey clicked it away and it was replaced by a shot of her cuddling the photographers’ dog, Nancy. ‘Oooh, now that’s quite sweet. What do you think about that, Harvey?’

  ‘Hmm, I’m not sure. I think we want to stay focused on you looking strong and in control. You know, so it matches the message of the music.’

  Here we go again. He can’t resist having a sly dig . . .

  She lowered her coffee onto the table and looked him in the eye. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Nothing. Just what I said.’

  ‘But you blatantly said it with a snigger.’