She succumbed to fantasy fiction for a moment and let herself imagine: What if this moment was real? What if this was mutual? What if they went home together?
As mad as that sounded, with alcohol in her bloodstream and Depeche Mode’s ‘I Feel You’ pounding in her ears and his steady gaze holding hers too long – in a way that seemed to clearly say something – Edie wanted to let go briefly and dream it was possible.
Then she stopped herself, because it wasn’t real, and at some point, the lights would come back on. When they did, no doubt some lissom creature would mysteriously appear at Elliot’s side and disappear into the night with him. This girl would be someone he had a completely uncomplicated, physical-thing-only, sailor-on-shore-leave understanding with, brokered in whatever secret ways famous people organised their hook-ups. When that happened, Edie didn’t want to feel sad. Knowing Elliot had made her happier, and she had no room for more sadness.
55
Nevertheless, if this girl was going to slink from the shadows, fair play, Edie had a difficult time guessing which one she might be. When Elliot had given Edie his yarn about not ‘Augustus Glooping’ his way round the sexual Wonka factory he found himself in, she’d taken it with a pinch of salt. Not least because she had no idea what counted as restraint in famous world. Perhaps one threesome a week was the monastic life.
Yet Edie had to admit that Elliot didn’t appear to be looking at any of the gorgeous young things mothing around him. Not so much as a stray glance; although the lighting was low and the room was busy, maybe she’d missed it. His last girlfriend was Heather Lily, for God’s sake. Edie hated to think what would be the minimum aesthetic criteria required to turn his head.
She shook off the mild embarrassment of thinking it was feasible there was attraction between them and excused herself to the loo, and then to the bar. Edie was encouraged to sit back down by the waitress and by this time, she saw her seat opposite Elliot had been taken by Fraser.
Something about the way their heads were angled, speaking closely, followed by a quick scan of the bar by Fraser, whose eyes fastened on her, suggested to Edie she might be being spoken of.
Fraser vacated her seat and indicated it was hers again.
‘No, it’s fine,’ Edie said, gesticulating. ‘I don’t want to monopolise the Owens.’
Elliot pouted and cupped his hands round his mouth: ‘Am I that boring?’
Edie sensed many girls watching this exchange, dearly hoping she’d stay where she was.
‘No!’ Edie said, pointing at herself, ‘I am!’
‘Come back at once,’ Elliot said, pointing emphatically at the chair.
Edie made a mock-grimace and took her former seat again. This might be a one-night-only deal, her importance to him, but it was thrilling all the same. It was one night more than she thought she’d spend socialising with a celebrity.
‘You know, I could get offended,’ Elliot said.
‘I thought you’d want to share yourself round!’ Edie said.
‘What am I, fucking hummus?!’
Edie shook with laughter and she could see Elliot was pleased to have amused her, looking at her over the rim of his glass with his funny-and-sly expression.
This was fun. He was fun.
Was he a real friend? Could this happen? Would they keep in touch when he was back in the States? The odd humorous email? Funny cat gifs? I mean, maybe not once the memory of this brief interlude in his life faded, but … She wanted to. Edie couldn’t remember hitting it off like this with someone in a long time. Ugh, since Jack, she supposed.
‘Real talk now. Do you like gifs of cats doing funny things?’ Edie said.
‘Of course, doesn’t everyone? Have you seen the one with the cat in the helmet with the light sabre?’ Edie shook her head. Elliot fiddled with his phone to find the link. Edie gazed at the top of his head and imagined running her fingers through his brown-black hair.
Elliot held the phone up for her and Edie watched, laughing, as a confused Persian jerked its head from side to side to the whomp-whomp whoosh of a light sabre being swung around a lounge.
A text appeared on Elliot’s phone, over the screen, from ‘Fraz’. Edie could read the words in the bright blue bubble of the preview window. Hah, why didn’t he have previews turned … wait …
You say Edie’s screwed up & more issues than the Beano? I say: WOOF
56
Edie looked at it and blinked. She re-read it, as its meaning sunk in. It was like being hit around the head with a sandbag; the dull thud, the sudden pain.
Elliot was still looking at her expectantly, thinking she was enjoying cats playing Star Wars. She had seconds to decide what to do.
She whipped round, stood up and marched out, pushing through the exit, past the throng of people waiting to get into the bar where rumour had it, a famous actor was drinking tonight. That’s a French Exit for you, Margot. She didn’t care. She couldn’t stay a moment longer with those people.
Edie scanned for taxis, heart pounding. There was one with its light on, parked a little way down the street ahead, outside Broadway cinema. She broke into a trot to get to it.
Elliot’s voice rang out clearly, behind her.
‘Edie! Edie?’
She marched onwards determinedly. Elliot ran ahead, cut her off and stood in her path.
‘Let me past,’ she said, looking up at him. Ugh, she couldn’t bear to look at him and his stupid pretty fake face.
‘What you read isn’t what you think.’
‘Huh. Leave me alone, Elliot,’ Edie said. ‘Really. I mean it.’
He looked stricken. Good. Edie knew she was making Meg’s toddler huff gurn and didn’t care. She was incandescent.
‘Let me explain. I can explain.’
Edie folded her arms.
‘Oh, OK, so you weren’t running me down and saying to your brother, Don’t bang a basket case?’
‘Yes to the part about me not wanting my brother to sleep with you, no to the rest …’
‘You said those things about me?’
‘Yes, but if you’ll let me give you the context …’
‘What context could possibly make that OK?’
Elliot was going to try to minimise the damage and explain it away; of course he was. He didn’t want to be the bad guy. If Edie let him persuade her there was any exculpation here, she was a rank fool.
And if it wasn’t for that split-second fail with the technology, she’d still be giggling and confiding and thinking this man genuinely liked her. She’d been fantasising about going home with him, for God’s sake. The blow to her pride, and most of all, the discovery of another false friend: it was more than Edie could withstand. She was going to let him have it.
‘You know what, Elliot, I get that you’re kind of a big deal, but you’re irrelevant to me. I’m not a fan girl and you’re just a bloke I’m working with for a very limited time. You didn’t need to pretend to be my friend. I don’t have some giant need in me to be befriended. Arm’s length would’ve suited me absolutely fine. No loss.’
Elliot looked upset at this, and it only spurred Edie on.
‘I don’t give two shits about you, to be blunt, and I don’t care if it’s entirely mutual. So why do people like you—’
Elliot’s face had been taut during her tirade, but at this, his eyes widened in shock.
‘There’s a “people like me” now?’
‘—people like you act matey, then behind my back, say what a “nightmare” I am? Just avoid my company. Would that have been so hard?’’
‘I don’t think you’re a nightmare! Not in the least!’
Edie drew breath and went for the big finish. She didn’t care what this cost her. She was so angry and distraught, she was practically seeing double.
‘And when I told you about my mum, which I didn’t want to tell you, by the way, but you put me on the spot. Instead of saying Oh God Edie, how awful, poor you, why not simply say: “Oh dear, you must be a re
ally screwed-up mess.” Oh no,’ Edie put up both palms. ‘That’d be a terrible thing to say, right? But you did. Behind my back. Which do you think hurts more? Which do you think makes you the better or worse person?’
‘I don’t think you’re screwed up!’ Elliot said, almost shouting. ‘I think you’re one of the sanest people I’ve ever met.’
‘“Edie has more issues than the Beano,”’ Edie quoted. ‘It’s a pretty big vote of no confidence, isn’t it?’
Elliot winced.
‘I was trying to deter Fraser, that’s all. I was saying “high maintenance” – which isn’t true – anything, to get him to flirt elsewhere. He was all over you tonight and it was a very hasty, ill-considered and ungentlemanly way to get him to back off. I’m dying here, honestly.’ He ran his hands through his hair and Edie thought, Oh sod off if you think your music video in a Mustang expression is going to get you anywhere.
‘Why is Fraser liking me such a crisis? Am I not good enough even for a casual thing? I don’t think WOOF indicates a desire to wed, I think you’re safe from me ruining the Owen name.’
‘Of course not. Because,’ Elliot paused. ‘Because I didn’t like the idea. At all.’
He stared at her, jaw set hard in a miserable yet defiant grimace. Edie knew what he meant: he feared if she and Fraser shared throes of passion, she might also share his secret. What a poor view he had of her character, when you stripped away the superficial.
‘Oi! I am my Kingdom! Oi!’
They looked over to see a group of check-shirted lads outside the Rough Trade shop opposite.
‘Are you the prince? Wolf Whorer!’
Elliot ignored them and turned back to Edie.
‘Sorry you find the prospect of me and your relative so revolting,’ Edie said. ‘The one degree to Kevin Bacon and all that. Seems pretty snobby and vile, that I didn’t pass your strict criteria for a worthy consort.’
‘Oh … man. This isn’t going right at all. It’s not because I thought you weren’t good enough for Fraz. Completely the opposite.’ Elliot rubbed his chin. ‘You were working with me and we were friends and I … felt like you … belonged to me, not him. I know how obnoxious that sounds, and I’m sorry.’
And the spoilt kid, dog in the manger thing where he didn’t want his brother to put his lackey to another use. Edie understood a little more again but it didn’t make her any warmer towards him.
‘You could’ve said to Fraser, Don’t go there, she’s my friend, then? I still don’t see the need for nastiness about me.’
‘The reason I didn’t simply say that to Fraz is – well, he hasn’t won all those sporting medals for nothing. If he knew I didn’t want him to do something, he’d take it as a challenge …’
‘Oh my God, so what am I, PING-PONG?’
‘No! Oh Christ. How do I say this now …’ Elliot rubbed his forehead.
‘Or you could’ve said to me: “Hey, Edie. Please don’t boff my brother, it’ll be weird, what with us working together?”’
‘I didn’t have the guts to do that.’
‘Why not?’
‘You might’ve said you wanted to. Can you really not see why I went to him and not you?’
‘Bros before hoes, isn’t that the line?’
‘No! God.’ Elliot put his hands on his head, in the style of a footballer who’s missed a penalty. ‘I completely get why you’re raging after thinking I was talking about you in that way. But I’m telling you the truth.’
‘No you’re not. You didn’t ask me not to sleep with Fraser because you thought: “Of course it’s a done deal that Edie will take any chance she gets, don’t you know what a desperate needy screw-up she is.” Do you know, it’s not a massive surprise, Elliot. I knew from our conversation earlier today you didn’t want me to come. Not all your acting is so great.’
Phew, Edie was unstoppably savage. Elliot looked distraught. He was still only experiencing a small per cent of what he’d inflicted on her.
‘That was not because I didn’t want you to come! I was freaked out my brother had your number and might be sexting you dick pics, or something.’
‘Hey. You’re shorter in real life!’ someone called, from across the street.
They looked back and saw the heckling group had got a few more members, some female.
‘Fuck off mate,’ Elliot said, and the group exploded into jeering, cackles, and ‘oooooh, get you’.
‘You need to go back to the bar before you get mobbed,’ Edie said, ‘And I want to go home.’
‘Edie, I don’t want to leave it like this.’
‘Well this is how it is. I’m going to take my many issues home in that taxi. Good job it’s a five-seater.’
‘Get your tits out! Oi! Get your tits out for the prince!’ Edie turned and gave their latest male antagonist the V sign, producing more delighted screeching.
‘Night,’ she said to a stricken-looking Elliot, and wrenched the heavy door of a Hackney open. She didn’t look back, but angered herself by worrying that Elliot was out there with no protection and hyenas around him. She shouldn’t care. From now on, she wouldn’t care.
57
When Edie was younger and she needed to escape the walls and ceiling of her home pressing down on her, she used to walk. And walk, and walk. Since she’d come back to Nottingham she liked having a compact city to traverse again, the distances she could cover made her feel like a Scott of the Antarctic explorer.
I am just going outside and may be some time.
Her father caught her slipping out of the quiet house before nine a.m. ‘No hangover? My goodness. Where’s my daughter and what have you done with her?’
Edie said something about how those cocktails were clearly a rip-off, couldn’t even get drunk for your money any more, and disappeared swiftly before he could notice her downcast demeanour.
She walked down past the terraces of Forest Fields, up through the Forest Recreation Ground, once a year taken over by the organised chaos of Goose Fair, and through the Arboretum, following the tramlines into the city centre. August was nearly over and you could sense the cooler snap to the air coming, that smell of September.
Why bother to care about anyone? she thought, as she reached the city centre and bought herself a coffee in a cardboard cup, sipping it through the tracheotomy slit in the plastic lid. Most of them let you down. Most people were awful. The initial outrage with Elliot had given way to a deep, miserable disappointment in humankind. Her cynicism had said, ‘too good to be true’ about their friendship. Now, she was no longer sure it was cynicism, more like realism.
She expected mea culpas to limp in, and she got them by mid-morning.
First Fraser, trying to play Kofi Annan, with no success.
Edie, I’m an absolute arsehole for sending that text, blame me. Elliot just freaked because he thought I was going to try to take you home and I was totally paraphrasing. Please forgive him, I know he thinks the world of you. Fraz x
Edie texted back polite thanks to Fraser and absolved him of any criminal activity. She couldn’t bring herself to reply to Elliot’s near-simultaneous text for an hour.
I did a lot of apologising last night & I appreciate repeating those apologies is probably both useless and irritating, but anyway: I’m so sorry, Edie. I don’t think those things about you, not at all, not even a bit. I said them in a panic. I hate the thought of hurting you more than I can say. Ex
The last line affected her. Then she remembered he was an actor, who read from scripts. In real life, he wasn’t the person she thought he was. She couldn’t find it in herself to say a false: ‘It’s OK.’ Making him feel better meant making a doormat of herself. Why should she make him feel better?
What’s done is done. Let’s put it behind us and finish the book.
It wasn’t just that he’d hurt her, it was how he’d hurt her.
She could’ve more easily forgiven overhearing standard laddish put-downs. ‘Edie? Wow, nice enough girl, think you could
do better though, mate, and you know she’s thirty-six?’
Being pragmatic, she would’ve been pained but not surprised to find Elliot had judged her and found her wanting in that respect.
It was the betrayal of knowledge of her past she couldn’t stand, used to paint her as a clingy, flaky hysteric. Was that true, had she come across as someone with her shit very much not together? She wished so much she’d never told him about Jack, or the Facebook page. Or her mum. She’d made herself vulnerable and he’d thrown it back in her face.
And worst of all, Elliot should be able to empathise. He understood what it was like to get over something like that, the work it took to put it behind you. They’d bonded over exactly that. In fact, Edie could date her most tender feelings towards him back to that moment in the hotel.
Elliot was trying to cover it his betrayal with this bluster about not liking the thought of her and Fraser at it like knives – probably under his parents’ roof – but there wasn’t enough wallpaper to cover the gap, in Edie’s view. It had stopped short of being a full explanation.
She walked home with her iPod blaring in her ears, New Order’s ‘Bizarre Love Triangle’, which seemed to sum up the last year pretty well. Apart from the love.
When she got in, she checked her phone and found three missed calls from Elliot. Edie decided to ignore them, let him sweat overnight. She wasn’t paid to speak to him on a Sunday and she didn’t know what tone to take with him.
Polite but cold? Terse but businesslike? Raging harpy batcrackers, to play up to her stereotype?
Then, Nick was calling her. She had the ‘grave walk’, prescient shiver that this was more attention than she usually fielded of a Sunday, and something might be up.
Who's That Girl? Page 29
