The List That Changed My Life

by Olivia Beirne

  ‘I can’t just stand there and wait,’ I shout over my shoulder.

  I hear the thud behind me and notice Jack has followed.

  ‘Georgie,’ he says as he reaches me, ‘come on. Waiting for the taxi will only take a few minutes.’

  ‘I don’t have a few minutes!’ I cry, marching through the street and cursing my footwear. ‘I should be with her now. I shouldn’t be here with you.’

  ‘Georgie!’ Jack grabs my arm. ‘Georgie, come on.’

  I shake his arm off furiously and power through.

  Finally, Jack stops chasing after me.

  ‘It’s not my fault,’ he shouts after me.

  His words root my feet to the ground and the anger bubbling inside me erupts.

  ‘Yes,’ I hurl my body round to face him, my eyes burning, ‘yes, it is. If it wasn’t for you, I would be at home right now. I would be with Amy, and if I had been with her then she wouldn’t have fallen.’

  A shadow passes over Jack’s face and his mouth tightens.

  ‘That’s not right,’ he says. ‘You can’t say that.’

  I stare back at him, my chest rising and falling as the icy wind whips my hair.

  ‘None of this should have happened,’ I say coldly. ‘I shouldn’t be here with you.’

  I turn back on my heels and storm back down the street, the burning tears streaming from my eyes and spilling down my cheeks.

  I should be with Amy. I should always be with Amy.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  I grasp my head with my hands, my fingernails sinking into my cheeks and breaking my skin as anxiety burns behind my eyes.

  I should have been there.

  I jump slightly as the clock chimes, standing proudly on the mantelpiece. My dry eyes snap up to look at the time, my head splitting with the sudden movement.

  I should have been there and I wasn’t. I was miles away. In bed with someone I barely know. I never do that, that isn’t me.

  I shouldn’t have done it. I should have been here. It took me hours to get back, and by the time I did Dad told me to wait at home. Alone.

  I let my head fall back into my hands, anxiety snaking around my body and squeezing my organs like a python.

  I feel like I can barely breathe.

  Amy fell. Tamal said she fell from the top of the stairs. He had to take her to hospital; she wouldn’t wake up. She hit her head.

  This thought causes my body to jolt violently and I try to fight the balloon of fear that is swelling inside me, when I hear the crackle of the car rolling on to the drive. I leap to my feet and rush towards the door. I pull it open and my eyes mist as I spot the family car on the drive. Mum is clipped into the front seat. Her face is as white as paper and she looks as if she hasn’t slept. Dad climbs out of the car, his face bright and cheery as always. My heart aches as my eyes search his face. Dad flicks open the boot and places something by the rear passenger door. Panic storms through me as I realise what it is. My hands grip on to the door frame in fear.

  It’s a wheelchair.

  Tamal climbs out of the car next. His face is grave, a sober smile stretched across it, pulling his mouth into a shape I’ve never seen before. He walks round the car and opens the door for Amy. She folds herself out of the car and drops straight into the wheelchair like a rag doll. Her arm is hooked in a sling and I notice an ugly purple bruise smeared across her face.

  I hover at the door, my heart cracking every time my eyes fall on another dent on Amy’s battered body. Then suddenly, my stomach plummets as Amy’s eyes look up and lock on to mine. Her face doesn’t move, but I know instantly what she is thinking.

  I should have been there.

  *

  Amy looks up at me as I place a mug down beside her. She smiles weakly.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ I ask, as I curl on to the sofa next to her, guilt chewing every part of me.

  Her eyes flit to the mug, and I flinch as I realise she can’t pick it up. She’s only got one arm.

  ‘Here,’ I say quickly, handing her the mug.

  She shakes her head. ‘Not yet,’ she says, ‘it’s too hot.’

  ‘Right.’

  Amy stares forward, her eyes glazed over and locked on to the TV. My eyes ache as I look back at her hopelessly. Tamal left about an hour ago to go to work, and I texted Sally to say I wouldn’t be in. It’s the big pitch tomorrow, but she understood.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ I ask again.

  ‘Where were you?’

  Amy’s soft voice cuts through me, her eyes still fixed ahead of her. The guilt pierces my insides with blunt blades of anxiety, and I try to fight the hot panic tearing at my skin.

  ‘I was with Jack,’ I manage. ‘We were in Brighton.’

  Finally, Amy looks at me. Her eyes are red and inflamed, and her left eye is blurred with a deep stain of sickly yellow. I reach forward and grab her hand, my fingers coiling around her cold fingers. Amy lets her fingers hang limply in mine and I grip them, desperate to instil some warmth into her.

  ‘Are you okay?’ I ask.

  She doesn’t speak, but slowly I see her grey eyes blur with a layer of tears that spill over and fall down her face. I lunge forward and cradle her head into my body, unable to fight the tears pricking at the back of my eyes.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say, holding her tightly against my chest. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t there.’

  Amy shakes her head and pulls away. I sink back down into the settee, and try to wipe my wet face dry.

  ‘Don’t be,’ Amy says quietly, ‘I’m glad you were out doing something fun.’

  ‘No,’ I argue, ‘I shouldn’t have been. I should have been here, with you and . . .’

  I trail off as Amy shakes her head at me.

  ‘Do you know what I was doing?’ she says. ‘When I fell?’

  I look back at her helplessly.

  ‘I was about to run a bath,’ Amy continues, ‘and I thought, wouldn’t it be nice to have some bubbles? I knew that Mum had that nice scented bubble bath we bought her for Christmas that she never uses. So I went upstairs to find it, and then halfway back down, my legs stopped working.’

  Amy has stopped crying now, and the words fall out of her mouth like stones dropping into water. I watch her, unable to speak.

  ‘And now,’ Amy laughs, gesturing down at herself, ‘now I’m like this! I’m in a wheelchair. It’s really happened. I’m actually in a fucking wheelchair—’

  She breaks off.

  ‘You’ll get out of it,’ I breathe. ‘Tamal said it’s only temporary.’

  Amy turns her head sharply away from me.

  ‘No one knows that,’ she says coldly. ‘I’m supposed to be at work today. The kids have their first netball game next week. How am I supposed to teach in this?’ She slaps her free arm on the wheelchair and I wince as it rattles under the force.

  I angle my body towards her. ‘They’ll understand,’ I say, ‘they know you’re not well at the moment. They all want to run for you. They want to help with the event and—’

  Amy rests her head against the back of her chair and scrunches up her face.

  ‘The event’s off,’ she says scathingly. ‘I don’t want it.’

  ‘But Amy, we’ve raised . . .’ I falter.

  ‘I can’t watch everyone I love run a 10k while I’m sat in this chair.’ Her words slice across me as her eyes flash. ‘I just can’t.’

  I stare back at her, my final glimmer of hope slowly vanishing.

  ‘Okay,’ I manage, wrapping my fingers tighter around her hand. ‘It’s off.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Running schedule:

  04/08 1k (August is not the time to start running. Sweat patches are uncontrollable.)

  10/09 2k (Actually isn’t that far at all. Who knew?)

  05/10 3k (Am doing v. well. Kudos to me. I am superior to all. Bow to me, Usain.)

  19/10 4k (Finishes right by Burger King! Coincidence?!?!)

  13/11 5k (Christ)

/>   Natalie places a cardboard cup of tea in front of me and smiles sympathetically. I slept at my parents’ house last night. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to leave Amy. When I woke up this morning nobody was there.

  I run my hand over my face as Natalie passes me her compact.

  ‘Here,’ she says, ‘I always carry one in my bag. In case I have too much fun on a night out.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I say, snapping it open and trying not to wince at my grey reflection. ‘I slept at my parents’ last night. I wanted to stay with Amy.’

  ‘How is she?’

  ‘Terrible,’ I say honestly. ‘I think she’ll be okay, though. She doesn’t even want to come to the run.’

  Natalie’s eyebrows shoot up her face. ‘But the run is in a few weeks, isn’t it? You’ve raised a fortune. I looked this morning and you’re on about eight thousand. She has to be there, it’s all for her.’

  I shrug and wrap my hands around the milky, sugar-infused tea.

  ‘That’s what I told her,’ I say quietly. ‘I managed to talk her out of cancelling it completely but she says she won’t come.’

  Natalie nods as I stare into my tea, willing myself not to cry.

  I have never seen Amy so defeatist. She has never given up on anything.

  ‘So,’ Natalie says airily, swirling her latte in her hand, ‘is there any other reason why you look so sleep deprived?’

  I click my eyes up at her teasing face and, to my annoyance, feel the sides of my mouth pull into a smile. I can never stay miserable in front of Natalie for long.

  Natalie slaps the table with her hand and an enormous hoot of laughter escapes from her mouth.

  ‘I knew it!’ she cries. ‘I bloody knew it! I think I have a sixth sense. A sex sense.’

  I scrunch up my nose at her. ‘Ew,’ I say, ‘don’t say that.’

  ‘How was it?’ Natalie says, leaning forward. ‘How did it happen? Tell me everything. Have you seen him since?’

  I falter.

  Of course I haven’t seen him since. We barely spoke on the train journey home. He tried to call me but I didn’t answer. What would I say?

  ‘No,’ I say quietly, ‘we had a fight, actually.’

  Natalie’s face changes and I, begrudgingly, tell her everything. Each detail drags up a familiar feeling of guilt as I relive every horrible word I threw at Jack. He was only trying to help.

  ‘And you haven’t spoken since?’ Natalie asks when I finish.

  I shake my head, taking a generous sip of tea. ‘He tried to call me.’

  ‘But you didn’t answer?’

  ‘No.’

  Natalie leans back into her seat, holding her coffee with one hand and pushing her long braids off her shoulder with the other. ‘He’ll understand,’ she says. ‘He knows what’s been going on with Amy, doesn’t he?’

  I nod. ‘He’s been helping me.’

  ‘This is just a blip,’ Natalie says. ‘Everyone fights. He’ll understand, I wouldn’t worry about it.’

  I smile slightly as the knot in the pit of my stomach loosens.

  ‘So,’ Natalie starts again, ‘apart from that, how was it?’

  I meet Natalie’s excited eyes as a warm glow spreads through me.

  ‘It was amazing,’ I say honestly. ‘It was one of the most romantic days of my life.’ I look into her shining eyes. ‘I really like him.’

  Natalie leans her head against her hand and grins.

  ‘I always knew you fancied him.’

  *

  I look up as Sally strides into the office, stopping next to my desk. Her crisp bob is perfectly tucked under her chin and she is dressed head to toe in an immaculate suit. The big pitch is today. Even though me and Sally have very little to do with it, Bianca instructed us to wear our ‘most expensive-looking outfits’. Which, for me, is my Topshop blazer and my only pair of trousers without frayed hems – certainly not the pair that has little bristles of elastic that sprout all up my bottom.

  I should really throw that pair away.

  ‘Hello, Georgia,’ Sally says.

  ‘Hi, Sally,’ I say, raising my glazed eyes to meet her. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Fine,’ Sally says. ‘How is Amy?’

  I hesitate.

  ‘She’s okay,’ I say eventually. ‘She fell down the stairs, so she’s quite bruised. She’s actually in a wheelchair.’

  Sally’s face twitches. ‘That’s bad,’ she says.

  I almost want to laugh at her attempt to be sympathetic.

  ‘Yeah,’ I say, pulling my eyes back to my computer screen.

  Sally walks back to her desk and sinks into her chair.

  ‘I have received a lot of sponsorship,’ she says abruptly. ‘Almost one thousand pounds.’

  My eyes snap up from my screen and I angle my body round to see Sally over the monitors.

  What? Sponsorship?

  ‘One thousand pounds?’ I repeat.

  ‘Yes,’ Sally responds, ‘people have been very generous when I’ve explained what it is for. And five people from my running club have signed up too. They all want to meet Amy.’

  I blink at her, trying to make sense of it. She’s been telling people? She’s been fund-raising? I just thought she liked running.

  ‘Wow,’ I breathe, ‘that’s amazing, Sally. But I’m not sure Amy is going to be there.’

  ‘What?’ Sally barks, alarmed. ‘Why not?’

  I falter. A weighted ball of sadness lodges in my chest as I remember Amy’s face.

  ‘She doesn’t feel up to it,’ I manage.

  Sally opens her mouth to respond, when Bianca charges through the office door. Her red hair is sculpted into an impressive ponytail and her cat-like eyes are framed with sweeping black eyeliner. Today, she is dressed in a magnificent blue dress that wraps around her slim frame and tumbles down her long legs. I try not to flinch as I notice her spiked heels, poking out of the bottom of her dress like glamorous hedgehogs.

  ‘Georgie,’ she says as her eyes land on me, ‘good, you’re here. I need you.’

  She turns and walks out of the office, and I spring to my feet and follow her obediently. I’ve given up worrying about Jack telling her about us. She can’t fire me before the wedding, I’m the only one who knows how to control the doves.

  We march down the corridor and into her office, which is covered in various wedding sketches. Why she planned her wedding for the weekend after our biggest pitch I will never know.

  ‘How are you?’ she asks, dropping into her large chair and gesturing for me to do the same. I sink into a much smaller chair quietly.

  ‘Fine, thanks,’ I say. ‘How are you? How are you feeling about this weekend?’

  Bianca flips open a file and she smiles. ‘I am very well,’ she says. ‘Thanks to you and Sally, I think it will be a wonderful day.’

  I nod, feeling my cheeks pinch in embarrassment.

  Maybe she’s forgotten about the bears.

  ‘So,’ she hands me a large piece of paper, ‘I just wanted to run over the seating plan one last time before the pitch. My great-uncle has just pulled out. Apparently he’s sick. Anyway, now I need to find a new place for my Great-Aunt Julie, who won’t want to sit on her own.’

  I pull out a pen and look at the table plans.

  ‘So,’ she continues, ‘I just want to go through it and see if there is anyone we can move. We’ve got about ten minutes before we need to get ready for the pitch; that should be enough time.’

  I nod again. ‘Okay.’

  She stretches out her own seating plan and sighs.

  ‘So,’ she peers down at the paper, ‘obviously on the top table are myself and Jonathan; my parents; Jonathan’s parents; Jack and Lulu. They all have to stay together, although Jack would be the perfect person to stick with Aunt Julie because he will just chat to anyone.’

  ‘I’m sure he wouldn’t mind not sitting on the top table,’ I comment, ‘if you move him to the table next to it.’

  ‘Oh no,’ Bianc
a says, ‘we can’t separate Jack from Lulu. They need to sit together.’

  I feel a pang of envy.

  I’ve never heard of Lulu before.

  ‘Oh,’ I say, trying to keep my voice light, ‘why? Who is she?’

  Bianca swishes her pen across the paper. ‘She’s Jack’s wife.’

  My stomach drops.

  What? She’s . . . what?

  ‘Bianca . . .’

  I jump as Sally appears at the door.

  ‘. . . the clients are downstairs. They’re early.’

  Bianca springs to her feet and shoots Sally a knowing look.

  ‘Great!’ she says. ‘Go bring them up, will you, Sally? Georgie,’ she turns back to me, ‘follow me. I’ll need you to get coffee.’

  Slowly I get to my feet, my legs threatening to buckle beneath me, as if all my bones have dissolved. I can feel my heart cracking and splintering in my chest and releasing a thick ooze of panic through my body, turning every spark of happiness within me to ice. My throat twists as I struggle to breathe.

  His wife?

  My entire body numb, I follow Bianca out of the room. My mind feels like it has been turned into thick, grey paste as it tries to compute that sentence.

  His wife?

  That’s why he didn’t tell Bianca about me. That’s why I know nothing about his life. It’s because he’s married. He’s married.

  He can’t be. He can’t be married.

  He’s married?

  ‘Right!’ Bianca says briskly as we push through the doors. ‘Let’s . . .’ she trails off as we enter the meeting room. My eyes follow her in brief confusion, until I reach the centre of the room and my heart stops entirely.

  Spread across the room are my designs. Pinned up and scaled up into giant posters. The designs I have been working on for the big pitch, in private. My designs.

  What are they doing here? How did they get here?

  My stinging eyes pulse in panic and I stumble back towards the door, desperately reaching for support. Bianca storms up to one of the posters, a look of fury on her face.

  ‘What the fuck is this?’ she cries, outraged. ‘These aren’t my designs! Where are mine? Who put these . . .’ her words are lost as she turns abruptly to examine the corner of one poster. My stomach lurches into my throat as she reads my name, etched in dark ink. Bianca hurls herself round to face me, her eyes like balls of fire.