Cold Comfort

by Isobel Hart

  “We can keep in touch,” I reassured him, trying to find some sort of bright side to look on. “You can email and text me.”

  “And Facebook?”

  “I’m not on Facebook. I barely even have any numbers in my phone. But for you I’ll make an exception.”

  “We’ll make it work, I promise,” he said, hugging me again. I was powerless against his charms as soon as his arms went round me.

  “When do you leave?” I asked, afraid of the answer.

  “Tonight,” he muttered into my hair.

  We spent the remainder of the time he had holding each other, trying to fill the short time with three years’ worth of kisses and touches. When he finally got up to leave he pressed a gentle kiss onto my lips, making me promise one last time to wait for him, his eyes beseeching. I happily agreed, enthralled, unable to imagine looking at, let alone wanting, anyone but him.

  Chapter 8

  Present day – 1 day earlier

  “Why don’t you come with us?” Emily begged me.

  “I don’t want to,” I insisted.

  “I swear to god you are going to have the most boring teenage years in the history of man. Seriously, nuns have a more exciting social life. You don’t do anything.”

  “I’m happy,” I assured her, glancing down at my phone. It was a serious habit I had, as I waited for some sort of contact from Hardy. I hadn’t heard from him in nearly a week. He’d been getting increasingly harder to get hold of. I’d told myself he was just caught up with the holiday job he said he had, but it still hurt.

  “You’ve just got three A’s in your A’ levels, you’re a shoo-in for Cambridge, and you don’t even want to celebrate? What the hell’s the matter with you?” I knew on some level that she was right, but I didn’t have any desire to be out celebrating without Hardy. There had been an outside chance, he had informed me a month or so ago, he might have been able to get over this summer. When he hadn’t managed it I’d been gutted, and all desire to do anything had left me. Instead I’d spent the summer moping about at home. Even Ma had been worried about me.

  “Really, I’ll just spoil your night,” I told her. “You go on with the others. They don’t want me there anyway.”

  “Only because you don’t make any effort with them.”

  “I’m not interested in what they want. Most of the guys have asked me out at some point, and their girlfriends know it. It means the guys think I’m standoffish or frigid and the girls assume I have to have been secretly flirting with their boyfriends for them to have asked me out in the first place. Even if, by some miracle, they don’t think that, they spend their time telling me I’m mad for waiting for a guy who they say will never come back for me. I’ve heard it all a million times, and I’m just not in the mood to hear it again today.”

  “That’s because you are mad. You’re mental, living in cloud fucking cuckoo land.” She was pissed now.

  “I don’t think I’m mental. I’m not going to apologise for wanting to wait for Hardy. I’ve yet to meet a guy who has made me feel half of what I felt for him in the short time we were together. He’s worth the wait. I’m sorry things didn’t pan out for you and Jamie, or Sam, or Mike… ” I couldn’t help the slightly snide tone in my voice as I began to list the numerous guys that Emily had hooked up with over the last couple of years. I’d barely even scratched the surface, but it was a bitchy thing to do. It wasn’t like me.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Emily screeched at me. “You’re so fucking holier than thou. Think you’re so much better than us because you’ve got some rich boyfriend you’ve promised to wait for, when really you’re a joke.”

  “Why am I a joke?” I felt irritated by her tone. “Just because I don’t want to sleep around? It’s my choice what I do with my body, and I happen to think he’s worth waiting for.”

  “Oh, give me a break, he’s no better than the rest of them. Just ask Clarissa.”

  “What do you mean ‘ask Clarissa’?” Clarissa and I had crossed paths a couple of times since the summer I’d first met her. She’d always been a bitch, but I’d just tried to ignore her jealousy. She’d never forgiven me for Hardy dumping her.

  “You should really get yourself on Facebook, Delilah,” Emily said, on a roll now. “You said Hardy couldn’t come over this summer because he had a summer job?”

  “Yeah, what about it?” I had the feeling of impending doom in my gut – knowing I was about to hurtle past the point of no return and fearing what I would find there.

  “Well, he sure made time for Clarissa when she went over to see him, judging by the photos she posted. Didn’t look like there was much in the way of work going on. It looked a lot like one of their usual get-togethers. She was there for weeks. You’re a fool for believing him, Delilah. He certainly hasn’t been waiting for you.”

  “I don’t believe you,” I told her, my voice trembling. She raised an eyebrow, reached for her iPad and pulled up her Facebook page. A couple of clicks later, she held it out towards me. I didn’t want to take it. I knew I could refuse and leave myself in ignorant bliss, but part of me wanted to know the truth. I reached out and took it from her, finally looking down at the page.

  Clarissa’s beaming face smiled up at me, accompanied by Hardy’s. He had his arm around her shoulder. He’d sent me a few photos over the time we’d been apart, but none like this when he’d looked so happy. I swiped the page to find the next image. It was captioned ‘reacquainting myself with an old friend’. This time she was straddling him while he sat on a chair. Her arms were around his neck and he was gazing up, grinning like a loon, their groins pressed against each other. I could see various outlines of other guys around the side of the room. I could guess exactly what was going on based on what I’d seen at Charles’. I felt sick.

  “I told you,” Emily said, smug now, “he’s no better than any of them. I don’t know what you think you were doing waiting for him.” She sounded pleased to see me tumble off my holier-than-thou pedestal.

  “Is she back?” I asked.

  “Who?”

  “Clarissa. Is she still in the States, or is she back?” Just the fact he’d spent time with her but couldn’t spare any for me hurt like hell. I needed to hear it from her what had happened.

  “Yeah, she’s back, but you can’t be thinking about going there, are you? She’ll eat you for breakfast.” She moved to block my path.

  “Get out of my way,” I insisted, dodging round her to grab the keys to Ma’s car. I’d passed my test at the first attempt last summer. I couldn’t afford my own car yet, but Ma let me borrow hers whenever I wanted.

  “Fucking hell,” Emily said, mouth agape as I moved swiftly towards the door. “You’ve finally lost it.” But she grabbed her bag and followed me out, excited by all the drama and clearly not wanting to miss a minute. Drama that didn’t revolve around her for once.

  When we pulled into the driveway I nearly lost my nerve, intimidated once again by the overwhelming size of her house. The car crunched to a halt in front of the steps and I was out and moving before Emily had even unfastened her seat belt. I rang the doorbell before my courage fled and waited. For a long while there was nothing, and then the door was opened by a housekeeper, who looked upon us wearily. “Clarissa is beside the pool,” she said, clearly assuming I was one of Clarissa’s hangers-on.

  “Where’s the pool?” I asked. She looked at me a little more closely before deciding she didn’t want to get involved and merely pointed towards a walled area to the side of the house. I nodded my thanks and headed to where she had indicated.

  Clarissa was laid out on a sun lounger, alone. She raised her sunglasses and peered at us as we clattered to a halt beside her. I had to admit, despite disliking her intensely, she cut a fine figure dressed in a scanty bikini, the entirety of her beautiful body out on display. “Who are you and what do you want?” she finally said, sounding bored.

  “Did you sleep with Hardy?”

  “Who? Hardy Somerville?” I
nodded, and she rolled her eyes. “When?”

  “Whilst you were in the States recently.”

  “What’s it to you?”

  “I want to know.”

  She looked at me a little more closely. “I remember you. You’re Hardy’s little singer. He mentioned you.”

  “Did you sleep with him?” I demanded again.

  “Sleeping usually has very little to do with it, and frankly it has nothing to do with you whatever I did with whomever.”

  “If it was with Hardy, it does.” She laughed, and that really pissed me off.

  She sat up, looking annoyed. “Who do you think you are? You’re just his little virgin tart. As I said, he mentioned you; said he was waiting until you were an adult and then planned to have you as his concubine – just like his father does with your mother. Thought it was funny that they’d keep it in the family, so to speak.”

  For a moment my mouth just opened and closed, but nothing came out. I heard Emily gasp behind me. “What are you talking about?” I managed to say.

  “It’s one of the best known secrets in town. I’m amazed no one’s ever told you.” I turned and looked at Emily, who blushed, shuffled her feet and stared at the ground. Clarissa carried on speaking: “Everyone knows your mother is Somerville Senior’s whore – at his beck and call whenever and however he wants her. He even lends her out to friends sometimes. It seems Hardy liked the idea and thought you were just the ticket.” She laughed as if it were all a big joke, and I hated her a little more than I already did. “I think it’s very droll you actually thought he felt something for you. Now bugger off, please,” she said, replacing her sunglasses and lying back down. “You’re blocking my sun.”

  I’d heard enough. I turned and marched back towards the car, Emily running to keep up with me. “Did you know?” I asked, looking sideways at her. So much made sense, I didn’t doubt there was some truth to what I’d heard; her long hours, the nights she’d left me alone to return to his house… the sadness I’d always sensed within her. My heart broke, knowing she’d done it for me. Emily was silent. “I asked whether you knew about it.”

  “I’d heard a rumour.”

  “And you didn’t think I ought to know?”

  “I didn’t think it was my place to tell you. I thought your mum would say something to you at some point.”

  “How long have you known?”

  “How long?”

  “Yes, how long?” I unlocked the driver’s door and pulled it open angrily as I looked at her across the roof.

  “Umm…”

  “Jesus. I can’t be around you right now.” I told her as I slid into the car. I didn’t unlock the other door.

  “You can’t just leave me here,” she said, hands on hips as she shouted at me through the closed window.

  “I think you’ll find I can,” I said, winding down the window an inch. I started the car and put it into gear, before leaning towards her and saying; “I always knew you were a bitch, but I still thought you were my friend. I thought, no matter how much you used me when it suited you, that you had my back. I guess I was wrong. You let me walk into this. You even showed me the pictures. You wanted this to happen. I think the walk home will do you good… it’ll give you a chance to think about what a cow you really are.”

  As I left, I could see her still standing there in the driveway with her hands on her hips, watching as I sped away. I knew she couldn’t care less about my words, they would fall off her like the proverbial water off a duck’s back. She’d be more concerned about missing the next juicy instalment of my life falling apart.

  I pressed my foot down hard on the accelerator, taking the corners at speeds I had never driven in my life, uncaring whether I lived or died in an accident. But someone somewhere must have been looking out for me. The roads were quiet, and despite my recklessness I found myself pulling into the driveway at home in half the time it had taken to do the same journey earlier. I ignored the little parking space in front of the cottage and screeched to a halt in front of the mansion.

  For the second time that day I was out the car and marching up the steps to the house before my courage could fail me. Mama opened the door, and for a second we just looked at one another. “Oh, baby,” she said, and I fell into her arms. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered into my hair as I sobbed in a way I hadn’t since I was a small child. “I wanted to tell you myself. I tried so many times.”

  “Gaynor,” a voice came from behind her. “Who is it? Who’s making all that noise?”

  “Just Delilah. I’ll see her back to the cottage. I’m sorry for the disturbance,” she said as she tried to back me away from him.

  “Why is she here?” he asked, refusing to be put off, his tone demanding attention. My mother seemed momentarily lost for words.

  “She’s had some bad news,” she finally managed to say.

  “Don’t lie to me, Gaynor. You know I can always tell when you’re lying. Let me see the girl. You’ve been hiding her from me for long enough. If she knows the truth now I want to see her.” I cowered against my mother, wishing I had waited for her at home instead of confronting her here, unwilling to expose myself to him. “Now, Gaynor,” he commanded her this time, and she immediately obeyed, pulling away. A small part of me died inside when I realised just how deep a hold he must have on her to make her respond like that… to make her hand me over to him. Reluctantly I took a small step away from my mother, lifted my head with what I hoped resembled defiance, and stared straight at him.

  He’d aged since the last time our paths had crossed. It must have been at least three years. His tall frame was slightly stooped now, his shoulders more rounded than I remembered, but his gaze was as piercing as ever. He stared at me for a moment. “Stunning,” he finally said. “I can see why the boy wants her. I’m almost tempted to trade you in, Gaynor, and have her myself.” Mama flushed, looking mortified as Mr Somerville laughed. My own increased colour was a result of the anger I felt.

  “I’m no one’s,” I told him in no uncertain terms. “Not yours, and certainly not his.” Mr Somerville just laughed again. It was a more sinister sound this time, and for a moment I felt afraid of him.

  “Get back to the cottage now, Delilah,” Mama interrupted. “Move the car from the front of the house. I’ll be over shortly.” She sounded coolly efficient, not at all her normal warm self. I hesitated, unwilling to leave her here with him. “Now, Delilah,” she said again. I moved, relieved when I stepped out of the house and into the fresh air. Somehow I started the car and drove it back to its place in front of the cottage. Then I went inside and sat in a chair to wait for her.

  *

  She arrived home about half an hour later. When she walked through the door, for the first time in my life, I didn’t know what to say to her. I’d thought of so many questions while I’d waited, but the words just fled. “Why?” I finally managed to croak out.

  “Oh, baby,” she said, moving to kneel in front of my chair. “Baby, I’m so sorry you found out from someone other than me. I regret that more than anything.”

  “Why do it, though, Mama? How could you let him do that to you?”

  “Baby, I’m not going to lie, life was hard for us. You were little for most of it, but I struggled – a lot. Before I had you I’d always made a living that way, honey. I’m not ashamed,” she said quickly. “I didn’t walk the streets or anything. I was a little classier than that, I like to think. But I gave it all up when I met your dad. He was a client. Like so many others, he said he wasn’t happy in his marriage, that his wife didn’t understand him. I thought I’d fallen in love for the first time, and then I had you and I really learned what love was. The relationship wasn’t strong enough. He just couldn’t cope with my history. Even though I wasn’t doing it anymore, he couldn’t handle the fact I had done it at all. When we ran into an ex-client while we were out shopping one day, it was all too much for him. He ran straight back to his wife.” She paused to take a breath. “After he l
eft it was a struggle for me, for us. Then, just when I was at my wits’ end, Mr Somerville contacted me. He’d been a client before and heard I was considering starting again. He made me an offer – come and work for him, be available to him and him alone, and we could live in this cottage. I couldn’t turn it down. It was the chance to make a better life for you. For both of us.”

  “It wasn’t worth it, surely?”

  “Honey, I’ve never known how to do anything else, apart from look after and love you. It’s not been so bad, has it? We’ve been happy all these years.”

  “Yes,” I whispered, “we’ve been happy, but at such a high cost for you.”

  “Nothing was too much for you, sweetheart. He’s not so bad most of the time. I’m just a glorified housekeeper, really. But now he’s seen you, baby…” Her voice trailed off.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s a man who likes to acquire beautiful things,” she said, cupping my face with her palm. “I like to think that’s why he wanted me all those years ago.”

  “You’re still beautiful, Mama,” I assured her. She was. Even at middle age she was still a striking woman. Slim, with long dark hair like mine, with deep mahogany eyes. I’d often wondered why she’d never been snapped up by some guy or other. I’d supposed at the time she wasn’t interested. Now that I knew the truth, I realised it just wasn’t permitted. I felt another pang of sorrow for everything she’d given up so that I could have a secure childhood.

  “Thank you, sweetheart. Don’t look sad. I chose this life for us, and if I faced those choices again I’d do the same thing. I’m not ashamed of the life I’ve lived… but I don’t want it for you.”

  “I don’t want it for me either.” I shuddered, thinking of Mr Somerville.

  “As I said, he likes to collect beautiful things. God knows you’re surely one of the most beautiful. Hardy’s already made a fuss about you…” The mention of Hardy’s name in this context brought me up cold and reminded me of what had brought me to this point in the first place. “Now Mr Somerville has seen you, he’ll want to keep you.”