by Susie Tate
“Don’t laugh at your aunt’s magic cave.”
Heath was laughing now as well.
“Whasso funny?” Mia slurred.
“They think they’re funny,” Yaz said. “You’re just jealous of my flat, you pricks.”
“It’s so messy. I love it.”
‘S’not messy,” Yaz grumbled. “I just have a lot of stuff and its all on display like … like a museum.”
“The Museum of Yaz.”
“Awesome,” Yaz whispered, her body was slowly going more and more slack where she was sitting.
“Are we still talking about Auntie Yaz’s magic cave?” asked Teddy.
“Christ,” I muttered under my breath. I’d had enough experience with my sister to know when she was about to pass out. “Yaz,” I said, raising my voice. “Don’t you bloody dare fall asleep there, you useless sod. I’m not carryin-”
“Uh oh,” Mia muttered, leaning over Yaz and peering at her sleeping face. “She is outters.”
“Bloody bloody hell,” I muttered as Yaz slowly crumpled down into the booth with her head landing in Mia’s lap.
“Yaz?” Mia whispered, pushing Yaz’s hair out of her face and then giving her shoulder a gently shake. “We gotta go home now. Yaz?” Mia looked up at me with wide, glassy eyes. “She’s sleeping.”
“I’m aware of that,” I told her.
“S’my fault,” Mia slurred.
“Mia, you didn’t pour rhubarb gin down her throat,” Heath said as he came up next to me to stare down at the crumpled Yaz. “She’s just useless.”
“Hey,” Mia cried, pointing at Heath in a rare show of aggression. “She s’not useless. She’s bloody lovely. She only stayed for me – so I could have this.” Mia threw her arms out to indicate the dilapidated, beer-stained interior of the Pig and Whistle.
“Number Five …” I paused and rubbed the back of my neck. “I think that statement proves you’re rat-arsed as well. “Nobody in their right mind covets this place.”
“I do,” Mia said, her voice now fierce as she slapped her hand to her chest. “I love it. Even jus’ for a lil’ while.” Her voice trailed off and her eyes became unfocused. It wouldn’t be long until she was in the same state as Yaz.
“Right then,” I said. “Heath, can you get Yaz? I’ll help Mia.”
Heath made a face. “Do I have to? Last time I took your sister home she vomited all over my shoes, and these are new trainers.”
“Pick her up, you selfish git,” I told him. He rolled his eyes but did bend down to pull Yaz out from the booth.
“Mia?” I asked and her eyelids flickered until she focused on my face.
“Hi,” she said, smiling up at me with a goofy grin, the like of which I’d never seen on her face before.
“I’m going to take you home now, okay?”
“Hmmhmm.”
If it were Yaz I would have put my shoulder in her stomach and hoisted her up in a fireman’s lift – no nonsense. But I instinctively knew that Mia wouldn’t want to be carried. It would make her feel trapped. I took her hand and helped her to stand. She swayed for a moment and then grabbed onto my arm, leaning her weight into me.
“I’m putting my arm around you now, Mia,” I warned her so she didn’t freak out. She looked up at me and gave me another crooked smile.
“’k.”
We made our way out of the pub with me taking most of her weight so I was practically carrying her along side me. Heath, Teddy and I managed to wrestle them both into Teddy’s car. By the time we got home they were asleep. As predicted when Heath hefted her out of the car Yaz vomited. Most of it was in my flowerbed. His shoes may not have come away completely unscathed. This time I had to carry Mia up the stairs, but, as unconscious as she was, I doubted it would trigger a panic attack. We put them in the spare bed together, both fully dressed apart from their shoes. I didn’t think Mia’d wake again but as I was pulling the covers up to her chin her eyes blinked open and she focused on my face.
“That’s your big secret, isn’t it?” she said.
“What’s that?”
“You – you’re kind. You’re a good man. You would never hurt me.”
“No, love,” I said softly, searching her face and pushing her fringe back from her forehead. “Not ever.”
“I really, really like you,” she said, giving me so much direct eye contact it was like a punch to the gut.
“I like you too, Mia,” I told her, my voice rougher than normal and my chest feeling tight.
“’s not real,” she whispered, as her eyelids fluttered closed.
“What?’
“’s not for me,” she said, her voice so faint it was a struggle to hear it. Her body went completely lax then and her eyes drifted shut.
Chapter 25
I want to help you get it back
Mia
“Oh my God. Kill me.”
I blinked open my eyes. On the pillow next to me all I could see was a mass of curly hair above the duvet that was pulled over Yaz’s face. The low, constant groan from underneath sounded like an animal in pain. I lifted my head off the pillow and pushed up onto my elbows. Yaz’s hand came up and pulled the duvet down so she could look at me. Her eyes were bloodshot, her skin tone decidedly green.
“What happened?” she groaned, rubbing her hands down her face. “And why am I at my brother’s house?”
I sat up bolt upright with a start and my mouth fell open as a stream of images from last night filtered back into my consciousness.
“Oh no,” I whispered. Max had carried me. It was bad enough that he had to support me so I could walk out of the pub but I knew, I just knew, that when we got to his house he carried me. I could still smell his aftershave. Bloody hell! I’d told him I liked him. Really, really liked him. Why didn’t I have the ability to forget drunken behaviour like Yaz?
“Hey, you okay?” Yaz asked, sitting up next to me and reaching out to touch my forearm. Like always her touch was calming. It helped me breath through my panicky thoughts. There was a sort of peaceful, warm energy about Yaz (even hungover Yaz) that settled my mind.
“I’m good,” I said, giving her a shaky smile. “I mean, apart from the badger mouth and nausea.”
“Jesus,” Yaz sighed, flopping back down onto the mattress again. “How did Max get us both home?’
“Heath carried you. Don’t you remember?”
“What?” Yaz shot bolt upright again only to have her face drain of all colour. Her hand went to her mouth and she scrambled off the bed to lurch towards the bathroom. I heard her retching and then groan like an animal again before the bathroom tap went on. She emerged five minutes later looking pale and very small, her hair a crazy mass of curls sticking up in all directions. “Okay, be honest. Was I sick on him?”
I bit my lip. “You weren’t sick on him exactly.’
“Mia,” she said in a warning tone.
“Well, you were sick in Max’s geraniums. Heath may or may not have held your hair back while you chundered.” She groaned and leaned over to put her head in her hands.
“Why do I always have to make such a dick out of myself in front of Heath? This is the first time I’ve been drunk for ages, but it always seems to happen when he’s around. He always sees me at my worst.”
“Oh Yaz,” I said softly, crawling over the bed to where she was sitting so I could rub her back. “I’m sorry, hun. I thought you might have a bit of a crush on him but-”
‘What!” she said in a horrified voice, taking her head out of her hands to stare at me with wide eyes. “I hate his guts, Mia.’
“Oh, right. Yes.” I suddenly regretted mentioning her thing for Heath. She looked humiliated. But how could she not realise it was obvious? “Of course you do.” I crossed my fingers behind my back as Yaz let out a shaky sigh.
“Hey,” Max’s voiced sounded from behind the door, making me start on the bed. “You ladies alive yet?”
“No,” said Yaz in a dejected voice. I scrambled off
the bed and went to the door as she flopped back down again.
“Sorry I –” My voice cut off as I flung open the door to be confronted by a freshly showered Max in jeans and bare feet. Don’t ask me how a man’s bare feet can be sexy but Max’s were gorgeous. I felt like I couldn’t breath for a minute, he looked so utterly and effortlessly handsome. I was suddenly very aware of the fact I was still wearing the oversized Sandbaggers’ top and leggings. One of my hands went up to my head and yes, yes of course half of my short hair was bunched up in a tangle at the side. I cleared my throat. “I’m so sorry about last night. You must think that-”
“I think that I organised a lock-in at the Pig and Whistle and my sister got you pissed on rhubarb gin,” he said, taking in my dishevelled appearance with half smile and a twinkle in his eye. “You have nothing to be sorry about.” He turned to Yaz. “You on the other hand owe Heath another pair of shoes. Fancy ones too.”
“Bugger off and die,” Yaz said, bending her arm at the elbow and shaking it at him. In return he bit his thumb and flicked it towards her.
“Okay well, I’ll be out of your hair in a sec. I just need to-”
“Feed. Me.” Yaz shouted and Max bit his thumb at her again.
“You can feed yourself, Midge. I’m feeding this one.” Then, to my surprise, he reached forward and took my hand in his warm, dry one, tugging me out of the bedroom. I shook my head.
“You don’t have to feed me,” I told him.
“Quit yer mitherin. It’s Sunday. Every bugger gets bacon on a Sunday. Well, apart from Yaz – she’ll have a mushroom or something.” He shuddered. “House rules. You need to eat.”
“Really Max. I–”
“Mia,” he cut me off and turned to face me, one of his hands going to the back of my neck and curving around below my hairline. It should have felt intrusive, provoked anxiety, but for some reason all his touch did was make me feel safe, and warm, and triggered a strong wave of awareness to spread down from my neck to my toes. I let out a shaky breath and looked up into his intense gaze. “You’re going to eat some bacon and then I’m going to take you to see a physiotherapist.”
“Wh-what are you on about?” My head was throbbing now as I sat down at the kitchen island. As he turned to the kettle Yaz pulled out the stool next to me.
“I wouldn’t bother arguing with him,” she said, slumping forward onto the counter once she made it up on the stool. She rested her head on her hands and her puffy bloodshot eyes looked up at me. “He’s a bossy bastard. I should know. I grew up with him.”
“Hey, you’re alive.”
Yaz’s eyes shot open when she heard Heath’s voice accompanied by his heavy footfalls as he walked into the kitchen.
“Kudos both of you for not choking on your own vom. Hashtag winning.” He held his hand up to me and I gave him a weak high five. Yaz’s face flushed a deep red colour. One of her hands went to her out-of-control curls, which, after a night of drunken sleep, looked way more Side Show Bob than ruffled surfer chick.
“Why aren’t you working?” she asked accusingly, searching her wrists for a hair band, which wasn’t there. “You’re always working.”
“I do get the occasional day off, Midge, and it is a Sunday,” he said, moving towards the kettle after it was clear Yaz was going to leave him hanging. A plate landed in front of me loaded with bacon, sausage, bean, toast, even black pudding was on there. I blinked.
“I’m not a massive breakfast eater,” I told Max something he knew and he shrugged.
“You can’t afford to carry on missing meals, Mia.”
“See,” muttered Yaz. “Bossy.”
Max faced me across the counter, lifted one eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. The bacon did actually smell pretty good. But I couldn’t bring myself to pick up the fork. I felt anger trickle through me, strengthening my spine.
“Don’t tell me what to do.” My voice didn’t even sound like my own. It was cold and harsh. Max’s face lost the arrogant expression and he frowned, uncrossing his arms to rest his hands on the counter. I pushed off the stool and took a step away from the kitchen island.
“Mia,” Max said slowly, the rest of the kitchen was silent. “It’s okay if you don’t want to eat that breakfast. I just think you should have something. You’re hungover. The only thing that will make you feel better is food. I’m not telling you to do owt, I’m asking. I’m sorry if it sounded like an order but the truth is I bark out orders all day long to these buggers, most of which get completely ignored. It just becomes a habit. I’ll be more … careful in future.”
The tension drained from my body and I felt my shoulders relax. My cheeks felt heated as I took back my position on the kitchen stool.
“I may have overreacted,” I muttered into the plate. “You’re right. I do need to eat.” I lifted one of the rashers of bacon off the plate and took a small bite. Max pushed a cup of tea tentatively across the kitchen island towards me as if he was offering it to an angry badger. I wished now that I could claw back my words. The last thing I wanted was for Max to be careful with me – to treat me differently. Despite my churning stomach, after a few mouthfuls and a few sips of tea (half a sugar and lots of milk – just the way I liked it) I started to feel better. Funny, but in all the years I was with Nate, he never learned how I took my tea. I offered Yaz a slice of bacon but she groaned and shook her head.
“I’m gonna make a smoothie,” she said, slipping off the stool and grabbing some fruit on the way to Max’s Nutribullet. Instead Heath snatched it out of my hands and shoved it into his mouth.
“Nothing you can Nutribullet is going to cure your hangover like bacon, Midge,” Heath told Yaz. “Whilst you’re crying about the poor piggy wiggies the rest of us are feeling bloody brilliant, having restored the required salts and protein needed for alcohol poisoning recovery.”
“Bugger off, Heath,” Yaz mumbled, her face still a bright shade of red as she ducked her head to make her smoothie.
“Well, aren’t you a delight the morning after the night before. You should go and stand outside over Max’s raspberries – scare off all the birds.”
“Ha, or provide them with a ready-made nest,” Max chipped in. Yaz stopped what she was doing, turned on her heel, and power walked out of the room. I didn’t think I’d ever seen Yaz do more than just amble, when she wasn’t on the rugby pitch that is, so her power walking was vaguely alarming.
“What was that about?” Heath asked in a bewildered voice after Yaz had made her exit.
“I think you hurt her feelings,” I told him, keeping my eyes on my breakfast.
“But I always take the piss. That’s what little sisters are for.”
I was about to tell Heath that Yaz wasn’t his little sister, and that maybe he should be a little less clueless and open his bloody eyes to see the way she looked at him, worshipped him. But I bit my lip. Yaz would be humiliated if anyone pointed out how she felt about Heath to Heath himself.
“Well, I don’t know what’s crawled up her arse this morning,” Max said, sipping his coffee. “Yaz can normally take a joke.”
I bit my lip again. I was sure that Yaz could take a joke in normal circumstances, but after having vomited (for the second time) on the shoes of the man that I was now convinced she was secretly in love with, then seeing that man the morning after when she looked like she had been dragged through a hedge backwards, in those circumstances, a little teasing – the type that was good natured but had just an edge of cruelty – that type of teasing would be tough to take.
“So, Mia,” Max said. “You still love the Pig and Whistle after last night? Got to say I’ve never heard anyone wax lyrical about that shithole and its grumpy old bastard of an owner like you did.”
I laughed and took a sip of my tea. “I stand by everything I said last night.” My smile dropped a little after I caught Max’s eye and remembered how much I’d said. The smile he gave me was smug this time. I’d never seen him so pleased with himself.
“No, I fucking hate places like that.” The vehemence in my voice caused his eyebrows to shoot up in surprise.
‘Er … okaaay,” he said slowly. “Hope you’re taking note Maxy Boy – no nice places for this lady. Strictly sawdust on the floor and no toilet paper in the bogs type of girl. Right up your street, you stingy northern bastard.”
“I’m going to call an Uber,” a slightly less dishevelled Yaz said from the door of the kitchen. She’d managed to find her hair band and controlled her lion’s mane, but a few wayward curls still stuck out at random angles. She turned to Heath. Her face was pale and her eyes a little red rimmed. My heart ached for her. “I’m sorry I threw up on your shoes … again.” Red stains appearing on her pale cheeks before she turned and made a swift exit, pulling her phone out as she went.
“Yaz,” said Heath, jogging around the kitchen island to catch up with her. “Don’t be a div. I’ll drive you home. You don’t have the money for an Uber.”
Max and I listened to them argue all the way to the front door and until it closed behind them.
I took another sip of tea before breathing in deeply through my nose and out through my mouth.
“Max, listen,” I said as I put my cup down on the counter and looked up at him. Holding eye contact wasn’t easy for me, but it was time I stopped being such a wuss. “I know you want to help me and I really appreciate it. But honestly you don’t have to take me to a physio today. My arm is fine, whatever Heath says.”
Max huffed out a frustrated breath and closed his eyes for a moment before making his way around the kitchen island to stand in front of me. The stool was high so my face was more on his level than normal, but I still had to tip my head back as he moved into my space. He lifted his hand to my shoulder then it stilled before making contact.
