‘I keep his things up there,’ Anna explains. ‘That’s all. I go up there to think about him.’
‘Will you show me?’
Anna nods.
Lilla takes the lead. She holds Anna’s arm, walks her to the attic door. ‘Here,’ she says, holding out her hand. ‘Give me the key.’ She unlocks the door and steps inside. She closes the door behind them and together they climb the stairs.
Lilla doesn’t say anything when she first sees the cot. She glances at Anna, then walks slowly towards it, puts her hands on the side rails, stares down at the bed linen.
‘This is Benjamin’s?’
‘Yes.’
Lilla turns away from the cot and lifts one of the framed pictures of Benjamin. She looks surprised by the image of his face, shocked even, as if she didn’t really believe Anna until then. She even blinks several times as if she might actually cry and Anna feels a small rush of warmth for her. Lilla shudders and puts the photo down. She wraps her arms around herself as if she’s cold. ‘He was quite cute. You must miss him a lot.’
‘Of course. Yes. Horribly.’
‘What happened? I mean, how did he . . .’
‘Die? It was an accident,’ Anna says. ‘He drowned.’
‘Oh my God. Anna, that’s so . . . My God. But how?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘You must feel so terrible. You must want to . . .’
‘Kill myself?’ Anna says. ‘Yes. Sometimes I do.’
‘I wasn’t going to say that, but, well, yes, I guess you must feel a bit . . .’ Lilla shrugs, tilts her head to the side sympathetically.
‘You poor, poor thing. So. You come up here and, well, do what exactly?’
‘I just sit here,’ she says. ‘That’s all. I come up here and sit in that chair.’
‘But you come up here for hours at a time.’ Lilla looks baffled.
Anna shrugs. ‘It helps.’
‘It helps? How?’
‘I don’t know. It just does.’
She’s not going to go into detail. She doesn’t owe Lilla an explanation. And she can tell now that bringing Lilla up here with the hope of garnering any genuine empathy was futile. Lilla would never understand the comfort she gets from being around Ben’s things, the transitory moments of pure happiness she gets when she successfully manages to forget that he’s gone. A second or two of that feeling is enough reward. Worth sitting there for hours and hours and hours.
‘I can’t really imagine it. The way you must feel, I mean. I don’t understand why you’d want to sit up here. With all this stuff. I don’t actually understand how that could help.’
‘I don’t understand it either. I only know it soothes me.’
‘I guess,’ Lilla shrugs. ‘If you say so.’
‘What?’ Anna laughs. ‘You don’t believe me?’
‘Oh, I believe you. I just don’t think it’s healthy. I mean, personally I think it’s a bit, well, maybe a bit morbid or something? But then I wouldn’t really know because I . . .’ She stops, smiles, puts her hand on Anna’s arm. ‘But I have no right to say anything, really. I’m not you, am I? I’m not depressed. Suicidal. And really the whole thing is beyond my comprehension. I’ve never even wanted children. I don’t even particularly like them. So I really can’t imagine what you’re going through.’
‘Of course you can’t,’ Anna says. ‘Nobody can.’
67
ON SATURDAY AFTERNOON PATRICK TURNS UP AT THE HOUSE.
There were no bookings at the restaurant and Dad was anticipating a dead night, so he gave me the night off. It’s been a wet day, and Anna and I have spent most of it in the living room watching movies, eating popcorn, fooling around. Lilla emerged sometime mid-morning, nursing a massive hangover. She took some painkillers, made coffee, and took it straight back upstairs.
We’re in the middle of our third movie when there’s a sharp knock on the door. Anna and I look at each other like a pair of guilty kids.
‘Shit.’ Anna giggles, sits up, straightens her clothes. ‘Who’s that?’
‘Dunno. My psychic powers don’t work on weekends.’
There’s another loud rap on the door. Anna raises her eyebrows.
‘Go and answer it.’ She elbows me.
I sigh melodramatically and stand up, tossing the blanket over Anna’s head as I leave the room.
I open the door and find Patrick standing there. He’s scowling and angry-looking, his arms folded over his chest.
‘Where’s Lilla?’ he demands, and I can smell booze on his breath. He sways.
‘What do you want, Patrick?’ I say. ‘Did Lilla invite you here?’
‘Invite me?’ He laughs. ‘I need an invitation to see my own girlfriend? Since when?’
Anna comes to the door, stands behind me. I urge her away with my hand.
‘Listen, mate,’ I say. ‘You’re drunk and that’s probably not the best way to try and see Lilla. You’re only going to piss her off. Why don’t you come back some other day, when you’re sober, and give her a call first?’
For all I know I’m talking out of my arse. Lilla could be sitting upstairs waiting for him, she might have called him, asked him over, but somehow I don’t think so. Patrick has the defensive air of a bloke who knows he’s not wanted. He looks down for a moment, staring at his feet, and I can see that this could go either way. He could be cooperative and leave, or try something stupid. When he looks up, his face red and his lips curled in a snarl, I know he’s taking the second option.
‘Listen, you dumb prick,’ he spits. ‘Don’t fucking tell me what to do, and don’t bother giving me your bullshit advice. Just go and tell Lilla I’m here.’
He steps closer, pushing his face aggressively towards mine. My heart rate picks up; my fingertips tingle with adrenaline. And even though he’s more than twice my size, puffed up with all that muscle, I would have loved to fight Patrick a few weeks ago, back when I thought he was the major cause of all my troubles. I would have hurt him, too. Desperation can make you stupidly fearless. I used to imagine the satisfaction I’d get from hitting him: my clenched fist smacking into his ugly face. But right now, I’d have no chance. I just want to go back inside and watch TV. I don’t care. I don’t hate Patrick anymore – if anything, I feel a bit sorry for him. And my lack of passion would definitely be a disadvantage in a fight.
‘Patrick. Stop with the insults, okay?’ I sound more confident than I feel. ‘And step back a bit. You’re starting to come across as aggressive. Lilla wouldn’t like it. You know that.’
I’m bluffing a bit, but it seems to work. He steps back, puts his hands up in an appeasing gesture.
‘Just go and get her for me. I need to speak to her. Just tell her I’m here.’ He looks at me then. His eyes are bloodshot, desperate, and I feel even sorrier for him. I can see how unappealing this kind of desperation is, and I know that Lilla won’t respond to it, or respect him. He’s only wasting his time, making things worse for himself.
‘Wait,’ I say. ‘I’ll go and tell her you’re here.’
I leave Patrick on the porch and close the door. I lock it, not caring that he’ll hear the deadlock click through. Anna’s standing in the living-room doorway and I explain to her quietly what’s going on, then I go upstairs to Lilla’s room.
She doesn’t exactly look thrilled to hear that Patrick has come to visit.
‘Fuck,’ she says, rolling her eyes. ‘You didn’t tell him I was home, did you?’
‘I didn’t tell him you weren’t, and he’s not going to believe me if I say you’re not here now.’
‘Goddamn it to hell and back,’ she says, and gets out of bed, clomps noisily over to the full-length mirror. She runs her fingers through her hair and sighs. ‘I look like total shit.’ She’s wearing a big, loose T-shirt and her hair is messy. She starts trying to fix it with a brush and clips.
‘Lilla, why the hell do you care what you look like? I thought you didn’t even like the guy anymore.’
‘It’s a matter of pride,’ she says, and she takes her loose top off, puts a tiny black T-shirt on.
I watch her rummage through her clothes. I’m curious, puzzled. ‘What’s the point? What do you care what he thinks? Don’t you want to get rid of him?’
‘What?’ She turns to me, exasperated. ‘What are you on about?’
‘If you go down there looking hot you’re only going to make things worse.’
‘God, Tim, just shut up would you? This has nothing to do with you.’
‘You’re right,’ I say. ‘I will shut up. Mainly because I don’t actually care.’
Lilla stops what she’s doing and comes closer until she’s standing directly in front of me. She puts her hand on my shoulder. ‘Don’t say that,’ she says, pouting. ‘You do care. I know you do.’
*
I don’t hurry down after her, and I fully intend to return to the living room and Anna, but when I get back downstairs the front door is open and I see Patrick standing drunkenly over Lilla, his hand gripping her arm.
I watch, make sure Lilla’s okay.
‘That’s enough,’ Lilla says, pulling away from him. ‘You should go now. We’ll talk some other time, when you’re sober.’
‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ he says. ‘Too good for me now, huh, now that you live in Fairlight? Too good to talk to your own boyfriend?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Patrick. And you’re not my boyfriend. We broke up, remember? I know you’re thick, but I’m sure you can work out what that means all by yourself.’
Lilla flinches as he pulls her roughly towards him, his grip on her arm tightening.
‘Hey,’ I say, stepping towards them.
‘Getting too big for your boots, eh, Lils? Think you’re something special now, do ya, living here? Big house given you a big head or something, eh? Well, I wouldn’t get too smart. Do your new flatmates know you haven’t even got a job anymore? Do they know you got fired? Bet you haven’t told them that little detail.’
‘Oh piss off, Patrick. Just go away.’ Her words are brave but I can hear the embarrassment in her voice, the trace of alarm.
‘Mate. Come on, let her go.’ I put my hand on his shoulder, try to make my voice sound reasonable, non-confrontational. ‘Don’t do anything you’ll regret.’
He ignores me. He holds tight to Lilla’s arm and drags her down the porch steps and onto the front lawn.
‘Fuck, Patrick,’ she cries out. ‘What the hell—’
‘I just want to talk to you,’ he says, his voice cracking with emotion. ‘I just want to talk and you’re being a stuck-up bitch.’
I follow them onto the grass and push myself between them so that he’s forced to let go of Lilla’s arm.
‘Fuck off,’ Patrick screams at me. ‘Just fuck off and leave us alone, you dumb fucking loser.’
He lurches towards Lilla again and I grab his shoulder, trying to hold him back, but he’s stronger and angrier than me and I don’t have much chance. He reaches for Lilla with one hand and takes a swing at me with the other, hitting me straight in the gut. It’s not a full-blown punch, more a distracted backhander, but it still hurts like hell, knocks the air out of me, and I double over, trying to catch my breath.
And then a shout comes from the front porch that makes us all stop. It’s Anna, her voice strong and furious.
‘Let go of her right now and get the hell off my property!’ It’s the first time I’ve seen her so angry, and I’m so startled I forget the pain in my gut, stare up at her. Her eyes are flashing, her cheeks are flushed. She’s magnificent with rage. ‘How dare you come here and act like such an arsehole! Get out of here! Now! Or I’ll call the police.’
Patrick looks startled too, as if he can’t quite believe the small blonde girl on the porch could have such authority. He lets go of Lilla and looks from me to Anna, then back at me. I can almost see his brain ticking over, weighing up his options. Should he stay and fight, or go before he makes things worse? Anna has her phone in her hand and is holding it up for Patrick to see. Lilla has her arms folded across her chest and is staring at him with dagger eyes.
‘Okay, okay,’ he calls. ‘You don’t need to call anyone. I’m going.’
He takes a step away, but suddenly stops, lurches towards me and grabs my shirt front. He pulls me so close I can feel his breath against my skin, smell the fumes of whatever it is he’s been drinking. ‘You watch your back, arsehole. Stay the fuck out of my way.’
‘I have no intention of getting in your way, Patrick,’ I say. ‘I’d rather not go anywhere near you.’ He shoves me and I stumble backwards, only just managing to stay on my feet.
He staggers to the gate, looking drunker than he did when he first got here. It’s a pathetic sight, and with the safety of distance, he starts looking more ridiculous than threatening.
He stops and points at me before he crosses the road. ‘I’m watching you, Ellison,’ he says. ‘Ya fucking dog. I’m watching you.’
*
After he’s gone, Anna, Lilla and I sit around the kitchen table and have coffee.
‘Well, that was an unexpected adventure,’ I say. ‘You certainly picked him from the bottom of the barrel, Lilla.’
‘But he’s not like that,’ she says. ‘Not really.’
‘But he is like that,’ I say, exasperated. I’m no longer jealous of Patrick, but it still annoys me that she’s sticking up for him. ‘Obviously. He was just here being like that. And what was that he said about your job? You didn’t tell me you got fired.’
Lilla glares at me. ‘It’s a complicated story. I was treated unfairly. And I didn’t tell you because you would only say it was my own fault. Anyway.’ She turns to Anna. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve never seen Patrick act like that before.’
‘It was probably just an aberration,’ Anna puts in, diplomatically.
‘Exactly,’ Lilla nods. ‘I’m sure he’ll be devastated tomorrow. He’ll probably ring and apologise.’
‘I bloody hope not.’ I think of the night I saw him at the pub, the footsteps I heard later, the feeling that I was being followed. ‘I just wonder how well you really know the guy, Lilla.’
68
THE NEXT MORNING, FOR THE FIRST TIME IN WEEKS, I GET UP early for a surf. The air is cool but the water’s warm, and once I’m actually out there, I forget about everything but the water and my body and the sky and the sea. I exist as I only ever do when I’m surfing or having sex – purely in the rush of the moment. And as I walk back up the beach I have my usual post-excellent-surf thoughts: I bag myself for forgetting how awesome and perfect it is, for forgetting how an early-morning surf can set a good tone for the rest of the day. And I swear to myself that I’ll make the effort to come out more often – every day, if possible.
When I get back to the house I run upstairs to Anna. It’s dark in our room, the curtains drawn, and I take off my clothes quietly. I get beneath the sheet and wrap my arms around her back. Pressing my skin against hers is like lowering myself into a fragrant bath.
‘Oh,’ she says in a soft murmur. ‘You’re cold.’
‘Make me warm, then.’
And she turns to face me, opens her arms, and does just that.
*
Later, I go to the kitchen and make enough bacon and eggs and fried mushrooms for the three of us. When it’s done I go upstairs and tell the girls to come down. Lilla enters the kitchen in her dressing-gown, looking a lot healthier than she did yesterday. Anna appears a moment later. She’s dressed, her hair wet from the shower. We smile at each other.
‘Oh, stop it, you two,’ Lilla says. ‘Those looks you’re giving each other. You’re making me sick.’
We each have a huge plate of food and we all go back for seconds. Lilla makes coffee when we’ve finished and we sit around the table, content, bellies full.
‘Why don’t we have a dinner party?’ Lilla says.
‘We just had a party,’ I say.
‘No. I meant a small th
ing. A dinner party, Tim. It’s quite different.’ She smiles sheepishly, looks at Anna. ‘Actually, I was thinking we should invite your friends over for dinner, Anna. That bloke I met at your party last week. Marcus? And his sister?’
‘Fiona?’
‘Yes. Them. They seemed pretty nice.’
‘They are nice,’ Anna says, looking puzzled. ‘I’m just not sure—’
‘But wait,’ Lilla interrupts. ‘I just have one really important question I need to ask first.’ She grins. ‘Is Marcus single?’
‘You can’t be serious,’ I say. ‘You haven’t even got rid of Patrick yet.’
‘I have so got rid of Patrick. It’s not my fault he’s having problems understanding that fact.’
‘Shouldn’t you try being single for a week or two?’ I say. ‘So you can find yourself or something?’
‘Nah. That’s all bullshit. Why am I more likely to find myself by being alone? All I’ll discover that way is that I’m lonely,’ she says. ‘And horny.’
‘God, Lilla.’
‘Don’t be so uptight, Tim. Why shouldn’t I pursue love if I want to? I don’t like being alone and I’m happy to admit it. It’s boring.’ She shrugs. ‘And I just thought Marcus seemed nice. Mature. It can’t hurt to get to know him, can it? I’m not going to ask him to marry me or anything. I just thought it might be fun to get to know some new people. You know, plant some new trees in my social garden.’
I look at Anna but it’s hard to know if she’s upset or not. I know she wouldn’t like the idea, though. She makes an uncertain gesture, lifts her shoulders.
‘What is it?’ Lilla asks, looking at Anna. ‘Have I put my foot in it? Did you two have a thing or something?’
‘No,’ Anna says. ‘Not that. And yes, he is single, but he’s also very shy.’
‘That’s okay,’ Lilla says. ‘I like shy. I can handle shy. In fact, I’m so not shy, I think I’m better off with a shy person. You know, yin and yang? A bit of karmic balance or something?’
‘I don’t know,’ Anna says. ‘He’s not really the type to enjoy being . . . I don’t know . . . what is this? A set-up? A blind date?’
Sweet Damage Page 20
