Unsticky

by Sarah Manning

  Vaughn was much more helpful than he’d been in Whistler. He squatted down next to Grace as she hunched over the toilet bowl and gathered her hair up in a loose ponytail as he rubbed her back. ‘You stupid, stupid girl,’ he said over the retching.

  Eventually there was nothing left in her stomach and Grace sat back with an exhausted little sigh. There was drool dribbling down her chin and she looked at her hand in dismay when she wiped her mouth and found it smeared with what was left of her lipstick.

  ‘Are you all right now?’ Vaughn ventured, all ready with a damp towel. For the life of her, Grace couldn’t decide if it was the alcohol and the kebab that was responsible for her hurlathon or the violent argument they’d just had.

  She stayed on her feet long enough to clean her teeth, then deliberately ignoring Vaughn’s attempts to take her arm, she sank to the floor and star-fished her limbs.

  ‘You can’t be comfortable like that,’ Vaughn protested, but he was sitting down and resting his back against the side of the bath. ‘Wouldn’t you like to lie on a bed, or a sofa?’

  ‘How can you say that this isn’t an open relationship, when it’s not meant to be a relationship at all?’ Grace demanded in a raspy voice.

  ‘It’s just an expression.’

  ‘It’s not a relationship, Vaughn. We’re not having a relationship. It’s an arrangement, we both know that.’

  It sort of was a relationship, but if they started calling it that, slipping into bad habits, then, like all Grace’s relationships, it would end prematurely and horribly. And she didn’t want this to end - yet.

  ‘I know it’s an arrangement. It was just a slip of the tongue.’ Vaughn gave an empty chuckle, which completely lacked anything approaching humour. ‘Neither of us are cut out for a relationship, We don’t play well with others, do we?’

  ‘Well, you definitely don’t! I stayed out way later than I said I would but I swear, Vaughn, if you think I’d shag Noah then come trotting back to you, I’m going. I mean it.’ Grace could feel the anger welling up again.

  ‘Would it make you feel better if I told you that I hated myself the whole time you were throwing up?’

  ‘Not really.’ Grace wondered if that might actually be the moment that Vaughn said the s-word, but he just reached over to stroke her foot, which was the only part of her within arm’s reach. ‘You could at least offer to make me some toast and tea - that would be a start.’

  ‘I could do that,’ Vaughn agreed gravely. He stood up and very gently helped Grace to her feet. Her ribs felt like they’d had a run-in with a cheese grater. ‘What number does the toaster go on again?’

  He wasn’t joking either. Nor was he capable of getting the exact boiling-water-to-milk ratio right for a cup of tea that was halfway drinkable.

  ‘I’ll do it myself,’ Grace sighed, using the wall to steady herself as she limped towards the kitchen.

  They sat on opposite sides of the table drinking tea. Every time she looked at Vaughn from under her lashes as she took a sip of tea, he’d smile hesitantly at her like he was trying to make things right between them, though he obviously didn’t have a clue where to start.

  Grace looked out of the window where the sun was high up in the sky. ‘There’s no point in going to bed,’ she said. ‘I’ll just feel worse when I have to get up in an hour’s time.’

  ‘Surely you’re entitled to a sick day,’ Vaughn suggested, but Grace shook her head.

  ‘Kiki knows I had a big party last night so she’s not going to believe any excuses about twenty-four-hour stomach bugs, and I have a ton of prep work for Nadja’s shoot.’ Grace slumped over the table. ‘You should probably let Piers have the day off though.’

  ‘Oh, bloody hell!’ It took a huge effort but Grace raised her head to catch the shamed look on Vaughn’s face. ‘I fired Piers.’

  ‘You did what?’

  ‘I told him to keep an eye on you, and when you hadn’t come home, I phoned him up and sacked him,’ Vaughn admitted, running a hand through his hair. ‘I don’t know what gets into me sometimes.’

  Grace could have done without the shouting and the shaking he’d subjected her to, but it had been a long time since anyone had been worried about her making it home in one piece. Not since she’d lived with her grandparents and their ridiculous 11 p.m. curfew. As Grace had tiptoed up the stairs, usually at least two hours after eleven, she’d always hear her grandmother call out, ‘Is that you, dear? You’re grounded for a month.’ Happy days. Still, it didn’t mean that Vaughn was forgiven.

  ‘Piers lasted about ten minutes after you’d gone before he walked into a lamppost and had to go home. You’d better phone him up and unfire him,’ Grace snapped.

  ‘I’ll do that,’ Vaughn said quickly. ‘He’s had his eye on this Pop Art triptych that came in last month. It might do as a peace-offering.’

  ‘You’d do that?’

  ‘I would do that. I’m trying to make up for how unreasonable I’ve been, but you’re sitting there with a look of dejection that I can’t seem to shift.’

  ‘I know.’ Grace pulled a rueful face. ‘Honestly, I could sulk for England.’

  Vaughn reached across the table and took her hand. The spark between them that was always there, even when they were fighting, began to burn brightly again. Grace let her fingers coil around Vaughn’s and none of it seemed to matter so much any more.

  chapter thirty-two

  Grace had had a lot of fights with a lot of boys, none of them coming even close to the ferocity of her fight with Vaughn, and it had always been the beginning of the end. They’d make up, but then they’d break up, usually within a week.

  But that didn’t seem to be the case with Vaughn - though it was hard to tell. The fight had been followed by a busy weekend of back-to-back brunches, lunches and dinners which hadn’t left much time to prod at the wounds to see if they still hurt, then he’d flown to New York for the week, while Grace got the easy Jet to Barcelona for five days’ shooting main fashion with Nadja.

  It was the first time Grace had been in the presence of Nadja as an almost-supermodel rather than as an almost-friend, and it had been a challenging experience. Although Grace had accompanied Nadja to McDonald’s on three separate occasions on two different continents for a Quarter Pounder with cheese, fries and a full-fat Coke, on the job she insisted that, ‘Every day I only eat thirty grams of cashew and an apple sliced eight times.’ Every night, without fail, she’d eat the food right off Grace’s plate, when she wasn’t knocking back vodka and flirting shamelessly with any male aged between nine and ninety.

  Nadja had also stuck to her plan that they’d share a room. The first thing Grace heard when she opened her eyes every morning was Nadja complaining about everything, from the birds singing too loudly to the sun coming through the drapes too brightly. The last thing Grace heard as she tried desperately to get some sleep was Nadja carping about her early call time or the girl in the club they’d just been to who wouldn’t let Nadja queue jump in the Ladies.

  But the shoot had had its upsides too. Grace had been left to her own styling devices as Lucie’s husband had just been made redundant from his job in the City so she was spending all her time on the phone in tears because they might have to sell their holiday home in Cap Ferrat. And as the photographer was an egotistical cokehead, he spent most of his time in a drug-addled haze in the hotel bar, leaving his assistant to take the shots, which had turned out surprisingly well.

  Nadja looked like a barely tamed wood nymph in a series of couture gowns cascading around her in a wash of saturated colour. Grace’s favourite picture was Nadja skipping towards the camera on the beach at Sitges wearing a plunging red Viktor & Rolf dress, its skirt made entirely out of feathers, which seemed to float in the breeze. Nadja had her head back, toffee-coloured hair streaming behind her like she was about to throw down - possibly with someone who’d dared to look at her funny. Grace was usually the queen of quirk, but Kiki was all about the strong, sexy silhouette so s
he’d be happy, which was the important thing.

  Still, Grace had never been more pleased to get on a 6 a.m. flight out of Barcelona on the Saturday morning, after promising Nadja that she couldn’t wait for the next time they worked together.

  Coming back to Vaughn’s house felt very familiar now. Grace headed straight for the kitchen to put on the kettle and root through the fridge for something to eat. There was milk, so at least she could have a cup of tea, but apart from that the fridge was bare and there wasn’t much in the cupboards except Vaughn’s protein bars and some dried shiitake mushrooms.

  Grace thought longingly of the two beds upstairs. Then she thought of the trip down to Waitrose on the Finchley Road so she could do a really big shop and have a proper Sunday roast waiting for Vaughn when he got home the next day. She drank her tea standing up because sitting down would be fatal, and was just about to haul her aching carcass to the front door when her phone rang.

  It was Lily, which meant that it was a misdial. Had to be.

  ‘Grace? You’re back from Barcelona, right? Are you doing anything? I’ve just had the most massive row with Dan and he’s stormed out!’

  At any other time Grace would have been thrilled to hear from Lily, but she was seriously sleep-deprived and clutching the phone precariously between cheek and shoulder as she tried to put on her jacket.

  ‘I’ve been back a couple of hours,’ Grace mumbled. ‘Why are you and Dan arguing?’ It was too much to expect Lily to call because she’d been itching to get a debrief on Grace’s trip. But at least she’d called.

  ‘. . . he said that he didn’t see why we should move his guitars out of the spare room if the baby was going to sleep in a crib in our room and I said that everyone gets a nursery ready when they’re having a baby because it’s just what you do, and he said—’

  ‘Lily. Hey, Lily!’ Grace repeated a bit louder so Lily would stop. Just stop. ‘Do you want to meet for a coffee in Primrose Hill or something?’

  ‘I can’t drink coffee!’

  ‘Decaff then or a herbal tea or an orange juice. I need fresh air before I fall into a coma.’

  There was a moment’s silence while Lily pondered this daring request. ‘Well, OK. I suppose that would be all right,’ she said graciously.

  For someone who claimed to have been crying all day, Lily looked remarkably fresh-faced. Grace would even have said she was radiant but that could have been the pregnancy or because Lily’s knowledge of skincare was encyclopaedic - she even knew what AHAs were.

  Lily had already snagged a corner table in the Primrose Bakery as a water-soaked Grace, who’d got caught in a sudden shower on the way from the bus-stop, squelched her way to the table.

  ‘I had your tunic dry-cleaned,’ Grace said, carefully placing the precious package on the spare chair. ‘Have you ordered?’

  ‘I was waiting for you.’ Lily looked coyly at the menu. ‘If you were going to have a cupcake, then I’d have one too.’

  After the lemon juice and cayenne-pepper detox and Nadja eating most of her meals, Grace’s waistline could handle a cupcake or three. She’d barely licked the butter-cream frosting off her first one, before Lily was back to the fight she’d had with Dan, which sounded like an argument for the sake of having an argument. Throwing him out for his spirited defence against using a nappy delivery service for a baby who wasn’t even born yet seemed a tad melodramatic.

  Lily didn’t really need much input from Grace, apart from the odd ‘Really?’ and, ‘Yeah, that does sound annoying,’ so Grace made short work of cupcake number two and realised that she was still furious with Lily and it was exponentially increasing as the minutes went by.

  ‘And then he said it was just my hormones,’ Lily spat and she’d obviously come to the end, because she folded her arms and looked at Grace expectantly.

  ‘Yeah, sounds about right.’ Lily was too shocked to do anything other than gasp, as Grace continued, ‘Like, when I have PMS, I still have valid reasons to be irritated and pissed off but the hormones bring a side order of crazy to the table.’

  ‘Well, thanks for the moral support,’ Lily snapped, pushing away her half-eaten cupcake. ‘Usually you’re only too happy to slag Dan off.’

  ‘Then the minute you make up, which you know you will, you tell him all the mean things I’ve said about him and he hates me a little bit more,’ Grace reminded Lily waspishly. ‘So what’s the point?’

  ‘Well, why did you bother asking me to meet you then, Grace?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Grace sighed. ‘I’m sorry I never told you about Vaughn, I really am. And you don’t even know how gutted I am that I missed your wedding, but half the reason why I never tell you stuff is because you’re not interested.’

  Lily sniffed contemptuously and Grace wondered why she’d even tried to explain or apologise. ‘You didn’t tell me because you knew what you were doing was totally wrong.’

  ‘I’m not getting into that again. The real issue here is that you haven’t even asked me how I am. You just called because you’ve had some bogus row with Dan and I’m meant to be the sympathetic best friend because it’s your life and I just live in it.’ Grace started shoving phone, purse and uneaten cupcake into her bag. ‘Maybe I have been a shitty friend, Lils, but so have you, and what you called me was fucking unforgivable.’

  There was meant to be a majestic storming out but the café was crowded and there was a pushchair blocking the exit so Grace ended up having to squeeze between the tables and was still within earshot when Lily burst into tears.

  Grace could feel at least twenty pairs of disapproving eyes all cutting into her because she was an unfeeling bitch who shouted at pregnant women and made them cry. There was no way she was going back to their table, absolutely no way, except she was. But she was doing it with a really put-upon air to let Lily know she wasn’t completely whipped.

  ‘You have no idea what hard work it is being friends with you,’ Lily spluttered. ‘You’re, like, always moody and you never tell me what the matter is so in the end I don’t ask.’

  ‘I am not always moody. It’s just the way my face looks.’ Grace tipped her head back and opened her eyes really wide to stop the tears from spilling over. One girl crying in public was bad; two would have been ridiculous. ‘I just felt like my life was always derailing in these hideous ways and you’re just so fucking perfect. Everything you do is perfect and everyone loves you and you make me feel like a complete fuck-up.’

  ‘I’m not perfect. I have problems too,’ Lily insisted, wiping her eyes with a napkin. ‘You always know exactly how to hurt me, Grace, and you totally nailed it when you said my life was over. I’m pregnant and I’m really scared I’m going to get stretchmarks and I’m only twenty-four and I had all this stuff I was going to do and I love Dan but what if he’s not the one and, hello, I have haemorrhoids.’

  It was the complete essence of Lily in one sentence. The sobs that Grace had been trying to hold back turned into giggles on the way out of her mouth. ‘I’m sorry. That’s not funny,’ she choked, laughing so hard that tears poured down her cheeks again.

  Lily was still crying but as Grace tried desperately to get herself under control, she gave a gurgly, hiccuppy laugh, because the giggling was contagious. Like the time they’d both nearly been fired for having hysterics during an important company presentation because the Publishing Director’s flies were undone. Grace and Lily sat at their corner table laughing and crying and flapping their hands in front of their faces, until the yummy mummy next to them got up and moved to a different table.

  ‘I did really miss you, Gracie,’ Lily said, when the giggles had quietened down. ‘I’ve had nobody to talk to except Dan, and I don’t think he can take much more.’

  ‘You have loads of friends,’ Grace pointed out gently. ‘And most of them don’t come with as much drama as I do.’

  ‘I don’t - not proper friends. Girls don’t really want me as a friend because of this . . .’ Lily waved a hand dismissive
ly in front of her perfectly symmetrical face. ‘Like they can’t quite trust me not to steal their boyfriends or something. Don’t get me wrong, I like being pretty but I feel I have to work extra hard to be nice and super-friendly all the time. And then when you didn’t tell me about him, about Vaughn, it was like you didn’t rate me as a friend as much as I rated you. That really hurt.’

  Grace blinked back more tears. ‘I didn’t tell you because I knew it was a bit dodgy, and honestly, at the beginning I didn’t think it was going to last more than about three months, and now . . .’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘It’s good, really good. I feel that everything in my life is finally moving forward and I think I’m happy. The only thing that totally sucked was not having you.’

  Lily reached across the table to squeeze Grace’s hand so tightly that Grace thought she might have broken a couple of fingers. ‘There were so many times when Beth in Features was wearing something really fashion backwards and I wanted to bitch about her.’