by Clare Lydon
“Something like this makes me question us, however briefly, and I really don’t want to question us, ever. I need us.” Tash ran a hand down the good side of Laura’s face, her eyes brimming with tears. “I need us more than I’ve ever needed anything in my life.”
And there it was, out there on the bed, emotions laid bare. But rather than feeling exposed, it was a weight lifted off Tash’s mind. She felt unburdened, lighter, as if she was floating to the top of a surface she hadn’t even known she’d been under. Her ears popped, light got closer, sunshine beamed in. She smiled as a tear trickled down her cheek, wondering just how ridiculous she looked to Laura right now.
Tash stared at Laura, unable to read her mood, unable to see what affect her words had made. After five years, surely Laura couldn’t be scared away that easily?
Laura swallowed and started to speak, then changed her mind.
Not known for her patience, Tash blew out an exasperated breath.
“Well, say something. I put my heart on the line and you just sit there as if nothing has happened…” Tash had gone from elation to fear now. Were her worst fears about to be realised? Would Laura really prefer someone like Kat to her? If so, she’d been living the perfect lie for the past half-decade.
Tash sat up and crossed her arms defensively, shielding herself from her lover’s words. Incredulity filled the lines between her freckles. Tash chewed a fingernail and waited for Laura’s words to assault her. None came.
“Are you going to say something? Say anything, even if it’s that you’re leaving me for Kat. I mean, I’d understand, she’s such a perfect catch…”
Bitterness was creeping in now and Tash was going down the line of insulting Laura’s friends. This was not how this had ended in her head. In that version there were pronouncements of ever-lasting love and devotion. Now, the mood had soured and Tash knew that last comment was a big mistake.
“Leave Kat out of this, she has nothing to do with it – nothing. And she’s going through a lot right now, so I don’t think we need to blame her for our issues,” Laura said.
Tash recoiled as if she’d just been slapped.
Laura was shaking her head vehemently. “This has nothing to do with my friends. Nothing.”
How had things gone from Tash making declarations of love and lifetime commitment, to Laura almost spitting in Tash’s face? Tash was baffled. She knew in her heart Laura was happy, that she didn’t want Kat or anybody else. And that’s what Tash had expected her to say.
So why were they sitting throwing daggers at each other across the bed?
Breakfast Three
It was gone 11.30am by the time the first bedroom door opened. Darren and Stu tiptoed down to the kitchen, shrugging at each other when they encountered nobody. Darren was dressed in black shorts and a red T-shirt. He stabbed open a packet of Taste The Difference sausages. What did they taste different from exactly? Tyres? Cheese? Gloves?
“You think there’s been some sort of mass-suicide pact?” he said.
“Bound to have been.” Stu scratched his stomach and stretched, yawning as he did. “Quite likely Tash killed Laura and then Kat, but it seems a little excessive. Perhaps they’re all just sleeping in instead?”
“Well, I hope Geri gets up soon because I’m gagging for some chocolate and she’s the Easter bunny.” Darren retrieved some foil from the drawer next to the sink and covered a baking tray, before arranging the sausages in neat lines.
“You’re going to eat chocolate?” Stu pointed at Darren. “Did you get special permission because it’s Easter?”
“Easter and Christmas I can pig out. After that, it’s back to the regime.” Darren flexed a bicep to demonstrate ‘the regime’.
“I’m going to take a picture of you eating it and put it on Facebook.”
“Don’t you dare!”
Darren wiped his hands on a tea towel before neatly halving it and hanging it back on the oven door. His next job was to take a family-sized pack of eggs from the fridge. They were free range – he’d expect nothing less. These particular chickens probably had their own detached house, 4x4 and pool.
“Should we wake them?” Darren cracked the eggs into a bowl before placing the shells in the open food waste bin beside him. He flipped the lid of the caddy shut before whipping the eggs into a frenzy with a fork, watching the clear and bright yellow contents combine to form a milky, frothy shake.
“Maybe. Praps I’ll just go and shout at them from the hallway?” Stu stood in the middle of the kitchen considering this option, one hand on hip, one hand on his chin.
“When you’ve stopped doing your Kenneth Williams impersonation, maybe yes,” Darren said. “But stay like that as long as you like because it’s amusing me no end.”
Stu broke his pose, kissed Darren full on the mouth and walked out of the kitchen.
“Wish me luck,” he said over his shoulder.
“Luck!” Darren filled the kettle before pulling the sticky yellow tag off the end of the bread and placing two slices into the toaster. He heard Stu take the stairs, heard him shouting, then heard him bounding back in, slightly out of breath.
“They coming?”
“They are now,” Stu said.
***
First to the kitchen after Stu’s wake-up call was Geri, flushed and sleepy, a pillow crease still visible on her cheek. She was wearing blue pyjama bottoms, a white T-shirt and was sans bra, her nipples clearly visible. Her hair was a mass of matted waves, still in its yet-to-be-straightened state.
“Alright boys?” Geri slumped over the table, her body and senses still alive and raw. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with this feeling in front of her two best gay friends. Confess to the fact she was woozy from too much sex? Probably something they didn’t need to know. She didn’t want to commit the heinous lesbian crime of over-sharing.
“It’s like dawn of the dead,” Darren said, buttering toast and grinning at Geri. “Is it National Lesbian Strike Day and nobody told us?”
Geri put her head on the table, hands on top of her head and yawned.
“Where’s TJ anyway? She gone already?” Stu placed a bunch of cutlery on the table beside Geri’s prone form.
Geri covered her ears as they clattered to a standstill, before raising her head and rubbing her face.
“Yep – gone. Gone but not forgotten…” A knowing grin lit up Geri’s features.
Darren held up a hand in protest. “Can we at least have a lesbian sex-free breakfast after I’ve cooked most of it?”
If Geri had the energy she would have shot Darren a look, but she didn’t. Instead, she simply smiled wanly at him. “Sweetheart, if you wanted a lesbian-free anything this weekend, you’ve come to the wrong house.”
Stu walked over to the table, carrying a second pile of hot, buttered toast, followed by some white side plates which he spread around the surface as if dealing a pack of cards.
“Are you seeing her again later?” he asked.
“TJ?”
Stu nodded.
Geri did the opposite. “Nah – she had stuff to do today.” Geri put the ‘stuff to do’ in finger brackets and followed that up with a nonchalant shrug, even though she felt anything but. “Still, I got laid and she got an Easter egg, so everyone’s happy.”
Geri was interrupted by the appearance of Vic and Stevie, who entered the kitchen looking relaxed.
“What’s this? You got laid?” Vic said.
“Was I the only one?” Geri asked.
Before Vic could answer, an ashen-faced Tash walked in and sat at the table.
“Morning lovebird – have you two kissed and made up after last night?” Geri asked her.
Before Tash could answer, Laura arrived in the doorway looking sheepish.
Geri could see everyone else’s eyes swivelling to the door and widening, so she turned around too.
“Holy shit! What happened to you?” Geri’s voice wavered. She look
ed at Tash, back to Laura, then again at Tash.
Tash held up her hands. “And before you all say it, no I didn’t beat Laura up.” She paused. “I wanted to last night, but I didn’t.” She tried a smile but the group of friends weren’t budging.
“So how did you get that shiner?” Geri got out of her seat and walked right up to Laura. “It looks like someone thumped you in the face.” Geri paused. “Wasn’t Abby, was it?”
Laura laughed, then winced, putting her hand to her face. “Someone didn’t beat me up. Something beat me up. A rake, to be precise.”
“A rake?”
Laura nodded. “Yep. A rake. In the garden last night while I was grovelling to Tash. Some people would call it karma, I guess.” Laura paused. “So that means something bad has to happen to Kat now.”
Geri let out a strangled laugh. “Already taken care of.” She looked around the group. “Abby left last night, went back to London.”
Laura put her hand over her mouth. “No!”
Geri simply nodded.
Laura looked dazed by the news as she sat down next to Tash, who gave her a grim smile.
Geri noted the body language and frowned. She wasn’t sure if she was buying Laura’s story. She leant forward in her chair as she sat back down.
“So are you two okay now, despite rake-gate?” she asked them. “It was just a rake, right?”
Laura didn’t respond.
Tash smiled weakly. “Yes, it was just a rake. And we’ve had a chat, working through,” she said, glancing Laura’s way.
Tash nudged her girlfriend, who returned her a look that could topple governments.
Just what had gone on last night? Geri watched the pair’s emotions get tangled in each other’s hair, up each other’s nose, dangle on their ears.
She tuned back into the room again and heard laughter as Vic and Darren were making some rude sausage joke, Stevie and Stu throwing their heads back, too. Geri was sure it hadn’t been that funny.
***
A minute later, the doorway was filled by Kat. She looked like she’d been in a boxing ring, her eyes puffy, her cheek bruised. She was dressed in her grey pyjamas and her efforts to remove her old make-up hadn’t quite worked. Where everyone else looked tired, Kat just looked broken. She scanned the room once, then again, before addressing the table, a worried look spreading across her face.
“So – Abby’s not here?” Kat asked.
The women around the table all winced, then shook their heads – all apart from Tash, who still couldn’t quite manage too much sympathy for Kat.
Stevie got up and put an arm around her friend, pulling her in close.
Kat rested her head on Stevie’s shoulder and sighed.
“She’s gone, sweetie.” Stevie hugged Kat closer.
“Gone? Gone where? For a walk?” Kat was grasping at straws and she knew it, but she wasn’t quite prepared to admit defeat yet. Somehow, don’t ask her why, Kat wanted to draw this out as long as she could.
Looks shot round the room but Geri took over, addressing Kat directly.
“She went home last night – back to London. She said she was going to text you – didn’t she text you?”
Kat shook her head, her demeanour shrivelled, despondent.
“I haven’t checked my phone yet, couldn’t face the bright lights. My head’s not so good.” Kat paused. “Back to London? Did she drive last night?”
Geri shook her head. “Got a cab – she needed to leave. Speak to her, you might be able to patch things up when you get back.”
Kat walked over to the table and went to sit down next to Laura. Then she remembered and changed direction, plonking herself next to Geri instead.
“Sorry, mate.” Geri rubbed Kat’s back gently. “But on the upside, the boys have cooked us a slap-up breakfast. And…” Geri’s eyes lit up as she jumped up and sprinted from the room. The others looked bemused.
“Something I said?” Kat asked, slumping in her seat.
In the kitchen Stu fried bacon, a tea towel slung over his left shoulder. Beside him, Darren was proving himself an adept partner, popping open a tin of baked beans with the stainless steel tin opener that reminded him of his childhood, winding the butterfly key slowly. He emptied two tins into a small black-bottomed pan on the hob and swore as tomato sauce splashed up his forearm. He licked it off.
A minute later they heard footsteps bounding down the stairs and plastic rustling. Next, an out-of-breath Geri appeared brandishing a white carrier bag.
“Just call me the Easter bunny!” she said, holding the bag aloft. “Happy Easter everyone!”
Geri dished out the Easter eggs to happy faces. When she got to Kat she reached down and gave her a hug.
“That should put a smile on your face!”
Everyone knew it was going to take more than that to cheer Kat up today but right now, an Easter egg was the best it was going to get.
Kat gave Geri a wry smile.
“I’ll put yours in your places,” Geri shouted to the kitchen as if it was a million miles away and not in the same room.
Kat, Tash and Laura all clamped their hands over their ears at the screech.
“When did you become so loud in the mornings?” Laura mumbled at Geri, already tearing the foil off her egg and cracking into the chocolate.
“You’ll ruin your breakfast!” Stu shouted from the kitchen.
“I bet I won’t.” Laura broke the chocolate egg and sucked on a piece, feeling it stick to the roof of her mouth.
Stu took out the sausages, which were by now golden and sticky, and shovelled them into an earthenware dish, followed by the bacon. He turned and carried it to the table borne aloft, as if it’d got sparklers and the group were about to celebrate someone’s birthday.
“Cheers, boys!” Geri raised her coffee mug in appreciation.
“Eat, before it gets cold,” Stu said.
“You’re going to make someone a lovely mother,” Vic said. “And thanks so much for taking over kitchen duties today – much appreciated.”
Darren blew her a kiss in return. “Just our way of trying to make amends for last night – me and my big mouth.” He paused. “I’m sorry, everyone.”
Geri did a double-take: “Did you actually just apologise?”
Darren rolled his eyes. “It can happen, Ms Paterson.”
Stevie leaned over and kissed Darren, while Tash murmured her thanks.
Laura stayed silent, concentrating on piling her plate with food.
***
Kat drooped at the table, not reaching for any food. Her eyes scanned the outside world: couples, solidity, health, happiness. She did a brief audit of her world: single, darkness, nausea, pounding headache.
She sat and took in the scene, a steadying hand on the white table top. Heavy eyes, smiling mouths, teas rippling as surfaces were broken. The sight of the food was more than she could bear. The room began to spin. She gripped the table tighter.
The details were suddenly grotesque, as if she’d stepped into some surrealist painting, as if Dali were warping the edges of her world. Kat saw grease glistening on lips, the yellow of the eggs too bright for her eyeballs, bean juice sliding down chins, bacon fat caught between teeth.
The walls of the dining room were dancing now, throbbing and stained. She took a sip of her tea. It was a step too far. The physical act of swallowing had opened up her body and digestive tract for business, and there was only one way it was going right now.
Kat’s chair scraped on the floor as she got up, a small ball of vomit making its way up her windpipe. She lurched round the back of Geri, retching slightly, clamping her hand over her mouth in alarm.
Then her feet were moving fast and she was running to the downstairs toilet, vomiting over the sink, the floor, the toilet seat, not quick enough to save it for the toilet bowl alone. Kat’s eyes were closed and she could barely focus as she gripped the sink with one hand and tried to ste
ady herself, her breathing. Her brain was thumping inside her skull. She stayed still, hoping this moment would pass.
It did, but then it was building again, Kat’s blood pumping stronger. In seconds, her insides bolted up through her throat and landed in the toilet. She hated this helpless feeling, the struggling to regain control of her breathing, her senses. The bowl was splattered with brown, yellow, even a hint of pink. Did she drink rosé last night? She didn’t remember, but felt extra hatred towards herself if she had. If she was drunk enough to drink rosé then she was drunk enough for anything to happen.
On the toilet bowl were written the words ‘Armitage Shanks’. Funny to think of a family somewhere, generations of the same family, their fortunes made from loos.
Kat grappled to get her breathing under control, swallowing down despite herself and wincing as she tasted her own acrid saliva. Did the Armitage-Shanks family get a feeling of sadness when they vomited on their own name? Or was that something you got used to?
The waves came thick and fast now. Kat heaved over the bowl, sank to her knees, knelt in her own still-warm sick. Thick sobs escaped her body as she hugged the toilet. She retched once, twice more, bringing up nothing except her own bile and self-pity, her whole body flushed with cold and shaking.
She stared at the walls in the downstairs toilet – they were purple, probably a paint called Aubergine’s Breath. The slate tiles were cold as she slid into a sitting position. She leant back, the reassuring cool press of the wall at the base of her spine also touching the small of her neck where her hair was at its finest.
As omens went, sitting here in this aubergine cell among a pile of warm sick seemed apt for her life right now. Really, she should get one of her friends to take a picture so she could stick it to her fridge the next time she thought about having a drink.
Kat didn’t want a drink now. Or drugs. Or, strangely, a girlfriend. But then her brain wasn’t functioning fully so perhaps that was just the mechanics failing, some crucial node not attached. Her vision was blurred and her thought process, too.
On the plus side, the good thing about not having a girlfriend today was she didn’t have to think about anybody else. Now, Kat could wallow in the mess she’d made of her own life, she could shower, ignore her friends, crawl back to bed and go to sleep because she knew from bitter experience that was the only thing that was going to cut it today.
