by Rebecca Reid
Nancy got to her feet.
‘Where are you going, Nancy?’ asked Miss Brandon, who was clearly trying to sound relaxed.
‘Sorry, is the meeting not over?’ she snapped.
‘No,’ smirked Brandon. ‘It’s not.’
Nancy sat back down, her heart thudding. It was about to get worse, though she wasn’t sure how.
‘I’ve been wanting to put together a house team-building activity for you all, but it’s been difficult because so many of you are weekly boarders who go home at the weekend.’
It was true. But that was how it was supposed to be. All the losers with no friends and the foreign girls would stay at the weekends. They’d be forced to do pathetic activities like going to see some embarrassing musical in London or taking a nature walk. Anyone who wasn’t completely tragic would get picked up on Saturday morning after lessons, to be driven home or to stay with friends, and would spend the weekend doing stuff that was actually fun.
‘But, all of the weeklies who’d usually be going home have signed up to stay in for the weekend because of the social. So … I’ve put together a plan. We’re all going away for a girls’ weekend!’
Half the room started to chatter with excitement. The other half remained painfully silent.
‘I’m getting in touch with all of your parents tomorrow, but basically we’ll be heading up to a mystery location, doing a trek in teams and then camping out overnight. We’ll do songs, make s’mores, all the camping classics!’
What was this, a bad American film? Didn’t she realize that no one in this room had any idea about the ‘camping classics’? Holidays for them meant Mauritius, Val d’Isère, Tuscany, the South of France, the Hamptons. Holidays were not backpacks and walking. And certainly never, ever, camping.
‘Permission slips go out tomorrow! Thank you all for being such game young women! I’m so excited to see what a difference we can make together.’
Brandon got up and threw her arms out, as if she was trying to hug the room. The losers filed out, excitedly chattering, leaving a group of girls sitting ashen-faced and furious.
‘What the fuck was that?’ said someone behind Nancy.
‘Is she on crack?’ asked someone else.
Georgia draped her arms over Nancy, resting her head on her shoulder. ‘Well, that’s some good news, at least.’
‘Why?’ Nancy asked.
‘Now other people hate her as much as you do,’ she said. ‘I don’t think we’ll have to put up with her for long.’
NOW
Lila
Looking through the French windows into the kitchen was like watching a play. Nancy was talking, while Brett and Charlie watched her. Georgia stood at the other end of the kitchen, holding a knife, slicing something. Her face was pink and some of her hair had stuck to her face. It must be hot in there. It would be nice to be hot.
‘Roo, let’s go away.’
‘What?’
‘Tomorrow. Let’s go to the airport and catch a flight to somewhere and go. Just us.’
He chuckled. ‘It’s a nice idea.’
‘So, let’s do it.’ She turned to put her hands on his legs. ‘Please?’
Roo almost never wanted to be spontaneous. Holidays had to be booked and planned. The only time he’d ever given in to her whim, he’d called in sick and they’d fled to Devon. Rented a cottage on the beach. It’s where they had conceived Inigo. Roo had grumbled all the way there in the car. He said it was a waste of time to go away in England, that he’d probably be fired for turning his phone off. It wasn’t a proper break because it didn’t involve a plane, if they were going to the south-west, why couldn’t they go to Polzeath at Easter like everyone else did. Lila had said nothing, but watched the greyness give way to greenness out of the window of the car. Roo had driven, naturally. He didn’t like it when she drove. His mood had worsened, but when they finally arrived, he had understood. The river was dark green, and the water was cold. He’d smiled as he watched her peel off her clothes and throw herself into the water. She’d told him how she liked this water, with its green-brown tint, far more than a swimming pool which looked so temptingly blue but was impossible to hold in your hands. They’d jumped and splashed and played in the water like children, Roo’s bad mood forgotten, left behind in London along with everything else.
She hadn’t told him, though, that she had been there once before, decades ago. Her mother had bundled her and her brothers into the car and driven them to Devon in the middle of the night. She must have known she was ill then, Lila realized. It had been a perfect day. They had played in the same river, throwing themselves off the bank and into the water, fighting and jumping and laughing until their tummies hurt. The mud had seeped between their toes and under their nails. When they got home, her mother had put her in a bath, the water stingingly hot, and she marvelled at how the water turned brown, at the grit left in the bottom of the bath. She wasn’t sure why she didn’t tell Roo then. Or why she’d never found the words to tell him since.
‘You know we can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘We have a child? I have a job? It would cost a fucking bomb?’
The buoyancy in her chest deflated. She should have known he would say no. If he had said yes that would have meant he loved her. He had to know how much she clung to the idea of escaping, and yet he wouldn’t let her have it. She said nothing, slumping back in her seat and staring into the house. Brett looked bored. Nancy was boring him. She’d want to talk about books and exhibitions and things like that, not real stuff. Brett would want to talk about real stuff, surely.
‘Why don’t you care?’ she asked, pricking the silence.
‘I do care,’ Rupert replied, leaning forward and putting his hands through his hair. ‘I really do.’
‘It was our child.’
‘We have a child.’
‘We had two.’
‘No, Cam, we didn’t. We have one healthy, wonderful little boy who loves you. And we had a miscarriage. A miscarriage is not a baby.’
‘It was to me,’ she replied quietly.
Rupert stood up. ‘I don’t know what to say, Cam. We’ve tried the therapy twice, we’ve seen the doctors. You won’t stop drinking, so those pills are sod all use. Is this it? Is this all I get? Because it’s been two months and I can’t do this for much longer. I want my wife back.’
‘I’m right here,’ she said, because it seemed like the right thing to say.
Roo looked sad. He wasn’t a sad person. It wasn’t a face she was used to him making.
‘I miss you,’ he said. ‘I don’t understand you. What’s going on in there? I wish you’d be honest with me and tell me what you’re thinking, what’s going on in there.’ He reached forward and tapped his finger against her head.
‘I wish I could,’ she said. It was true. She dreamed about saying the words out loud and feeling them weaken with every person she told. But she knew the rules. Never say it, never think it, never even think about telling anyone. ‘There isn’t anything to tell,’ she said. ‘We should go inside.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Are you going to talk to me if we stay out here?’
He didn’t meet her eye. ‘I don’t know what else there is to say.’
‘Say that you’re sorry. Say that you give a shit that our baby died.’
‘It wasn’t a baby, Camilla. Inigo is a baby, our baby. And he’s at home with a babysitter and you haven’t touched him in weeks.’
The sky was moving up and down, pressing into her and pulling away. There was laughing inside. Probably about her and Rupert. About how they couldn’t get through one dinner without her passing out, about how she drank too much and didn’t have a proper job or any other friends because she was boring and a shit mother.
How dare they? She might have expected it from Nancy, but Georgia? Anyway, she didn’t need them to tell her any of those things. As if she didn’t already know.
Her teeth felt numb. She stood
up, this time managing to control her sway as she walked towards the house. She ground the half-smoked cigarette into the patio floor, she knew it would piss Georgia off.
‘Cammy – please.’ She turned; Rupert hadn’t moved from his spot at the end of the garden. ‘We can go home now – make an excuse. We can be with Inigo.’
It would be easy to say yes. His stupid soft face would light up and he’d be happy. But he shouldn’t be happy. He should be sorry. He should be sad, sad like she was. He probably just wanted to save money on the babysitter.
‘Lighten up, Roo. It’s a party. Go inside, OK? I’m having one more cig and then I’ll be in. Just stop being such a killjoy, OK?’
He walked straight past her, pulled open the glass door and slammed it behind him. He didn’t even look at her.
NOW
Nancy
‘Nancy,’ Georgia called across the kitchen. ‘Shall we go out and check on Lila?’
‘Sure,’ she called back.
Lowering her voice, she turned to Charlie, ‘Will you go and keep Brett company? He’s probably feeling a bit lost with all this drama.’
‘What’s going on?’ Nancy asked, sotto voce, as Georgia opened the French windows.
‘Roo’s sleeping with another woman.’
The smile on Nancy’s lips wouldn’t have been called a smile by anyone else, anyone who hadn’t watched her win arguments for the better part of a decade.
‘Perfect,’ she purred, slipping through the doors.
Trying to shake the sense of disquiet that had settled at the pit of her stomach, Georgia followed her, watching the way her shiny hair caught the light from the kitchen. Nancy was moving towards the door when it swung open and Roo marched past, his shoulder catching Nancy’s as he strode into the kitchen and picked up a glass of wine that probably wasn’t his. Nancy stumbled slightly, knocked off the edge of the heel of her ankle boots.
‘Hey,’ said Brett, getting up. ‘Watch it.’
Lila was standing outside, swaying, a cigarette hanging from between her chapped lips. Georgia leaned out. ‘Come inside, Lila. It’s freezing.’
To her surprise, Lila listened. She dropped the cigarette on the ground and came to the door. ‘What did Roo do?’ she asked.
Georgia followed her eyeline as she closed the door. Roo was sitting at the far side of the table, refilling his glass, and Brett was towering squarely above him. ‘Calm down, mate,’ Georgia heard Roo say.
‘I’m calm,’ Brett replied. ‘But you pushed my fiancée. You owe her an apology.’
Roo smirked. ‘I didn’t realize you needed protecting, Nance? How does this fit with your feminist ideology?’
‘Shut up, Roo,’ said Nancy, taking her seat at the table. ‘It’s fine, Brett.’
‘It’s not fine. He smacked into you, he should apologize.’
‘Just say you’re sorry, mate,’ said Charlie lightly.
‘It’s fine,’ replied Nancy, her voice tight. ‘It’s not a big deal.’
‘See?’ said Roo. ‘She’s a big girl.’
Brett’s hands were clenched. Georgia tried not to look at them. ‘Does anyone want more water?’ she called out. It was a stupid thing to say. Pointless. No one even bothered to reply.
‘Fine,’ said Brett. ‘But if you’d done that in a bar I’d have kicked your ass.’
Roo laughed. ‘You need a drink, mate. Relax – I can smell the testosterone coming off you.’
Georgia watched as Brett pulled himself up to full height, towering over Roo, who was slumped smugly in his chair, grinning. The red wine had stained the insides of his lips. How could Lila go to bed with him every night, Georgia wondered. Had there been a moment at some point in their marriage when Lila had suddenly realized that her husband was a total arse? Or did she not see that people’s faces dropped when they realized they were going to be obliged to sit next to Roo at a dinner party? Did Lila notice how people switched off the moment that Roo started lecturing the room about politics?
‘I don’t want to fight you, bro,’ said Brett in an even voice. ‘All I want is for you to say you’re sorry to Nancy.’
Roo looked up. From where he was sitting, Brett must have looked angry and huge because Roo cocked his head to the side, glanced at Nancy and said, ‘Sorry, Nance. Didn’t mean to bump into you. Are you OK?’
Two dark-red patches had appeared on Nancy’s cheeks. ‘I’m fine.’
‘Please can you come live with us and make Roo apologize when he’s horrible?’ said Lila. Every head in the room turned to look at her. She was eerie by the door, white top, white skin, blond, almost white hair standing in contrast to the blackness of the night outside. She giggled. ‘I was joking!’
Georgia forced herself to laugh. Nancy did the same. Roo guffawed ostentatiously. The stone in the air broke. Georgia allowed herself a sigh of relief. ‘Are we ready for pudding?’
Nancy waited until everyone was distracted, and then she made her move. ‘Can I borrow you for a sec?’ she whispered in Brett’s ear.
‘What do you need, baby?’
‘Just follow me.’
She could feel his eyes on her as she walked out of the kitchen, up the stairs and slipped into the bathroom on the first floor. It was ridiculously big. Georgia had probably ripped out a perfectly good bedroom to make way for this enormous copper free-standing bath which must take about half an hour to fill. Heavy robes hung on the back of the door and she was pretty sure she could see a basket of hotel slippers. Nancy tried not to scream.
The door knob twisted and Brett stepped into the room. She slid the heavy bolt across the door and ran the tap.
‘What’s going on, baby?’ He looked confused, taking in the locked door and the running tap.
‘What the fuck was that?’ she ground out through her lips.
‘What?’
‘Why did you do that?’
‘Do what?’
Nancy slammed her open palm against the pale blue wall. ‘That display. Just now. Downstairs.’
Brett’s face was a picture of hurt and confusion. ‘What do you mean? Nancy, I don’t understand, what did I do?’
‘That whole “apologize” stunt you pulled. What was that about? What the hell did you think you were doing?’
‘He bumped you?’
‘And?’
‘He should have apologized.’
‘He’s a cunt, Brett. He’s spoiled and selfish and he doesn’t apologize – that’s who he is. That’s his thing. He’s a nasty little man.’
‘Why are you mad at me?’
Nancy sat on the edge of the bath, trying to calm her thudding heartbeat. ‘You humiliated me.’
‘Humiliated you? I was protecting you.’
‘I don’t need protecting.’ Her voice was louder than she had anticipated. Not by much, but the lapse in control frightened her.
It was OK. The evening was affecting her more than she had realized. She had let it get to her. It was time to stop. There was nothing to be gained by starting a fight with Brett – Brett who didn’t matter in the slightest. He wouldn’t understand. She was only doing this because she was angry she’d lost her chance to get Lila alone with Georgia, because she was worried that Georgia might actually have been right, that things were as bad with Lila as she had feared. But none of that was on Brett. Brett had nothing to do with any of it. She shouldn’t have brought him here. She shouldn’t have made him part of this whole hideous spider’s web.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said slowly. ‘I didn’t mean to raise my voice.’
Brett nodded his understanding, so easily won over. ‘It’s OK.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s not. I am sorry.’ Some people, she knew, found it difficult to apologize when they didn’t feel that they had done anything wrong. Even at work she saw full-grown men and women refusing to say things because they didn’t ‘believe’ them, although it would have made things easier and neater. She’d never understood that. It was the same at school, when other girls were
wrongly accused and refused to take the blame. She had known that a good apology got you miles further than shouting and screaming that it wasn’t you and that it wasn’t fair.
‘Don’t be,’ he said. ‘I’m kinda glad that you did, if I’m honest.’
‘What?’
‘I’m kind of glad you yelled.’
‘Stop it,’ she replied.
‘No – really. It’s good that you’re letting go a bit,’ he said. ‘I feel like I’m getting to see the real you when you do stuff like that.’
She dipped her head, letting her hair form a curtain around her, buying herself some valuable privacy. She was suddenly very aware of his eyes on her skin. His gaze was heavy on her. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He wasn’t that smart. He wasn’t supposed to see through her artifice. Even if she had become lazy, even if she’d allowed a tiny chink in her armour, she had chosen him because he was average enough not to be able to tell.
‘I do,’ he replied. ‘Really.’
‘You want me to shout at you?’ She reached for his neck, smiling suggestively. Perhaps she should go down on him? Anything to distract from this hideous situation, from his desire to claw her open and understand things that didn’t need to be understood, that were better left alone.
Brett laughed. ‘OK, so I don’t want you to yell at me exactly, but I want you to know that when you’re mad you can yell. We’re going to be married a very, very long time. You have to be able to be real with me.’
No we’re not and no I don’t, thought Nancy.
‘You’re right, baby,’ she said.
She had known that she couldn’t marry him. For a start, he would be scared of her parents and the idea of co-hosting dinners with him made her feel nauseous. But she had become fond of him. She had occasionally pondered the idea of keeping him on as a bit on the side. She knew now that that could not be allowed to happen. She couldn’t keep the puppy. She needed to take the puppy back to the pound, where it belonged.
