‘You’re on,’ Holly said.
‘OK. Right,’ Olivia said, writing down everyone’s goals. ‘I’m proposing we all devote a few minutes every day to our projects. Structure. That’s what we all need.’
‘How about every week rather than every day?’ bargained Harry. ‘I mean, let’s be real here – we’re all still in mourning at the moment. We need to factor in time for being morose, and getting recklessly drunk,’ he said, beginning to sound just that.
‘And recklessly hung-over,’ Holly added.
‘He’s right. I mean, I for one need to know that we’ve got enough scheduled moping hours,’ Bella said.
Olivia frowned. ‘All right. A few minutes every week then! We set aside thirty – no – sixty minutes a week to DO CREATIVE PROJECTS. That way, all those who complain about their jobs – I’m looking mostly at you, Braithwaite – will have no excuse. Myself included. We shall carve out our own niche in the world, one way or another.’
‘Niche quiche!’ Bella squealed. ‘We’ll carve out our own Niche Quiche!’
‘HAHA!’ Holly said. ‘That should be your company name, Liv!’
Olivia’s eyes lit up into pound signs.
‘Have it. Think of it as my gift to you, and your recovery,’ Bella said, affecting the look of a modern-day Mother Teresa.
‘I might just check if it’s copyrighted already,’ she said, getting out her phone.
‘Hey, I know!’ Bella began. ‘Why don’t we all go swinging?’
‘We’re not that middle-aged yet!’ Harry said.
‘No. Swing dancing. Lindy hop. It’s all the rage at the moment. All the cool kids are at it. In fact, there’s a class at Dalston Roof Park that my friend told me about. Who’s with me?’ She looked around hopefully, but everyone else was looking down at their two left feet.
‘Holly. I nominate you. I’ve seen you dance when you’re hammered. You’ve got rhythm! Sort of.’
‘I’m entirely mal-coordinated. But all right then.’
‘Ace! Actually, thinking about it, she said it was on every Sunday at 8 p.m. So there’ll be a class opening in half an hour! We can make it if we jump on a bus now.’
‘Oh, I didn’t mean go now!’
But Bella was already pinning her hair into a victory roll, and slapping on more rouge. Evidently, swing class was an excuse to look even more fancy dress than normal.
‘Really? Oh, what the hell, I’m drunk enough now. Let’s give it a go,’ Holly said, faffing with her bags and following Bella out the door. ‘Only you’ll have to shout me the money.’
‘Sure,’ Bella said, rooting around in the bottom of her handbag.
‘Thanks. I’m just not really managing at the moment.’
‘I can see that, darling. You’re wearing a scarf and it was the hottest day of the year today!’ Bella said as they headed out onto a busy main road.
‘I meant financially, but thanks…’ Holly looked down at the stripy Doctor Who-style scarf, which her mother had made her. Her mum and stepdad had a bit too much free time now they were retired, so they were often sending her strange yet exciting packages. This month’s handcrafted horror went down to her feet and was made of wool, even though it was spring.
She removed the scarf and stuffed it into her shoulder bag.
‘There. I’ve put the stupid thing away now. OK?’
As Bella nodded, they heard the screeching of car horns, then the sounds of a huge double-decker bus grinding to a halt.
‘What was that?’ Holly said, her eyes scanning the Islington traffic for a clue.
‘Look!’ Bella pointed to the other side of the street where a red bus was parked halfway into the road, its hazard lights flashing. The bus was being emptied of its passengers, and people were crowding round.
‘Someone’s been hit,’ Holly said, racing across the road. Bella hobbled behind in her enormous heels.
Her first thought when they got to the other side of the bus was, fuck-sticks, why hadn’t she paid attention when they’d done first aid in school? Then she might’ve been more prepared for the fact that there, in the triangle of road between pavement and bus, a man was lying on the ground, contorted under a mangled bicycle. His bruised arms were tangled up in a bike chain the colour of Sunny Delight, and his body was beginning to erupt into small quakes.
‘Shit, we should do something!’ She looked around, noticing a whole audience of people staring and gawping, none of them actually helping.
‘We’re trollied, Holly. We’ll only make things worse.’
‘But no one else is doing anything! OK how about you ring for an ambulance, and I’ll try to make contact.’ Tentatively, she stepped forward and crouched down. ‘Hello. Are you OK?’
As she got closer, she could see that the young man’s leg was bleeding and a small paddling pool of blood was appearing next to it.
‘Sorry. Stupid question.’
He nodded and gave a half-smile. Then he winced, and a tear slid down his cheek. ‘How bad is it? I can’t feel my leg.’
‘It’s OK. You’re OK,’ she lied, blindingly conscious of her own ineptitude. ‘We’re getting you some help. Try not to worry,’ she said, taking hold of his hand and squeezing it.
‘An ambulance is on its way,’ Bella announced, crouching down next to them, ‘so try not to worry.’
As the two friends exchanged concerned glances, a rotund woman emerged through the crowd of gawkers. Luckily, she looked the spit of Matron from the old Carry On films. Holly hoped with all her might that she could act the part of Matron as well as look it.
‘Has anyone got anything we can wrap around his leg?’ Matron said, crouching down to join them.
‘How about this?’ Holly grabbed the stripy woollen scarf from her bag. ‘If you don’t think the bits of fluff will cause damage or anything.’
‘I think there’s more risk of fashion damage with that than anything else,’ Matron said.
The man managed a small smile as they wound it around his leg like a tourniquet.
‘Should we try and put him into the recovery position or something?’ Holly asked, feeling her brain kick in a little more as she gradually sobered up.
‘No, it’s best not to move him just in case,’ Matron said.
Halle-fucking-lujah. At last, someone who wasn’t a total numpty when it came to life-saving. Holly vowed to take up first aid the second she got home.
She squeezed the man’s hand again and took a proper look at him for the first time. His hair was splayed out in matted tendrils over the tarmac. In normal circumstances, were his cheekbones not caked in blood, it might have been the kind of smile that could light up a room. Shit. Looking at his toned arm muscles, she had to admit that – morbidly inappropriate though it most definitely was – he was disarmingly attractive.
Christ. Perving on the incapacitated; we’re really descending to new lows, she thought as she let go of his hand and turned away to look for the ambulance again. As much as she tried to shake the thought from her mind, surely if she was finding so many other men attractive – dead or alive – was this not more proof that she was right to break up with Lawrence? Then she decided, thinking purely in medicinal terms of course, that it might be a comfort if she gently stroked the man’s hair. So while Matron carried on wrapping the ridiculous Technicolor scarf around his leg, she kneeled down again, held his hand, and began to stroke his soft, brown hair in a completely non-sensual way.
‘Thank you,’ he said, his eyes half open, his expression ever more vacant, as though he was slowly slipping out of consciousness.
‘Can you remember your name?’ Matron asked.
‘Aaron,’ he said, then he stopped shaking and closed his eyes.
‘Shit!’ Holly said, still holding his hand. ‘Where’s he gone?’
‘It’s OK, he’s just passed out,’ Matron said as they heard an ambulance siren ascending in volume.
‘Phew, that was fast!’ Bella said.
The ambulance pulled u
p, and Holly slowly let go of his hand. ‘You’ll be OK,’ she whispered to him as the paramedics got to work. The three women stood back as the professionals took over. After making some checks on him, they untangled him from his bike and hoisted him onto a stretcher. The girls watched, transfixed until the doors closed and the ambulance drove away.
Neither of them said a word as they walked back across the street to the bus stop, listening to the piercing siren fade away into the distance.
‘Shit, that was horrible. I don’t really feel like going swing dancing now, do you? It doesn’t seem right. Not while that poor guy is in such a bad way.’
‘No. Let’s just go home instead, have a stiff drink,’ Bella said, as the traffic gradually returned to normal.
They saw a bus headed for Tufnell Park and climbed aboard in silence. As they took a seat at the back, Holly contemplated the gravity of what they had just seen; of how the threat of mortality had stared them both in the face. Time to start valuing their life, stop moping around, start making the most of every minute…
‘You’re thinking it too, aren’t you,’ Bella said gravely.
‘What?’
‘Fit. As. Fuck.’
‘Isabella Allen! You are an OUTRAGE.’
‘He was BEAUTIFUL!’
‘Stop it. You are beyond dark! You know there’s a line – and you just went way beyond it!’
‘No, you’re right. Sorry. I’m being awful,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘It’s just that he was just such a classic Hol-type. The curly hair, the stubble, well, from underneath all the blood, that is.’
‘Not. Listening,’ Holly said, putting her fingers in her ears.
‘Hol, deny me to my face that he wasn’t an absolute Adonis! And he seemed like such a nice guy, too! When you were holding his hand, he seemed so grateful and sweet!’
‘There’s a word for people like you. You’re like – a borderline necrophiliac.’
‘He’s not dead!’
‘Yet. You don’t know the extent of his injuries. He may have internal bleeding.’
Bella fell silent.
‘Well, that’s put an end to my mission to take up cycling,’ Holly said a few minutes later. ‘No way am I riding in London after that.’
‘Me neither. Think I’ll put mine on eBay. Still, maybe there’s a TV show in it for you, on the very real dangers of cycling in London?’
Holly stared out the window and closed her eyes, replaying in her mind the scene of the poor (stubbly) bleeding man lying in the road.
15. Niche Quiche
Olivia turned the oven dial to the Off setting, slipped some oven gloves on, and pulled out a large steaming tray. Then she proudly placed ten perfectly formed mini-quiches onto Holly and Bella’s living room table.
‘Shit Liv. These aren’t half bad!’ exclaimed Holly after taking a huge bite. ‘Except I just burned the roof of my mouth. OW.’
‘They’re fucking delicious!’ Bella squealed. ‘Who knew our oven was even capable of producing something like this! Liv, you’re the perfect woman!’
‘Thanks,’ Olivia said, beaming. ‘I’m working on a special haloumi flavour for you, Holly. It’s going to be called “You Had Me At Hellim”.’
‘That is literally the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me,’ Holly said as Bella guffawed.
‘You’re wasted in The Law,’ Harry said. ‘You should quit immediately. The culinary world needs you.’
‘Oh, that’s a tangible career plan. I can just imagine my parents now. “Dad, I’m going to BAKE my way out of the legal profession, after all those tuition fees you paid for. What do you think, Mum?” “Bye, bye now,” they’ll say, and I’ll be ejected from The Mahoneys before you can say interfamilial divorce.’
No one had a counterargument for that one.
‘So how’s everyone else been getting on with their own creative exploits this last week? Are you all using the gift of time to its full potential?’ she said, sounding oddly like a life coach from Malibu.
Everyone was silent.
‘Holly, have you written your short yet?’
Holly shook her head. ‘Still too soon for me, I think. Any day now though, I’m going to start.’
‘We tried to do swing last week, but we ended up helping out at the scene of a bike crash,’ Bella said.
‘How awful,’ Olivia said, ‘was everyone OK?’
‘Hopefully,’ Bella said, looking pointedly at Holly. ‘I still think we should ring round the local hospitals and check on poor Aaron.’
‘Aaron? You talk about him like you know him!’ Holly said. ‘Come on, B. That is ILL behaviour. If I thought for one moment that your concern came from a Samaritan-like goodness, then I would let you.’
Bella smirked.
Sometimes, she was worryingly unaware of the fine line between fancying someone a lot and being a stark-raving stalker.
‘Sorry. I just thought you guys looked good together. There seemed to be a real connection between you. In other circumstances…’
‘Maybe you should track him down, Hol?’ Harry said. ‘Imagine if you ended up going out? Then it’d make another addition to your lovely documentary idea!’
‘Oh, bless you for trying to help, but no, Jez blew that one out straight away. Anyway, shall we stop being morbid and move on?’
‘No you’re right,’ Bella said. ‘He’s bound to have a girlfriend anyway. All the hot men in London in their late twenties do. Unconscious or not.’
‘Well I hope he’s OK,’ Olivia said, before turning to face Harry. ‘How about you? Have you done any work on your novel since we last talked about it?’
He shook his head. ‘Still too raw.’
Olivia rolled her eyes. ‘Tsh, you’re all lazy twonks. Oh well. Who’s in for seconds?’ she said, having barely touched her own portion of quiche.
‘IN!’ Holly said, holding her plate out. ‘So. I have a question: Is it just me, or are there loads of cosmic jokes going on at the moment?’
‘What do you mean?’ Harry said.
‘Like, today, on my way to the meeting, I passed a new shop that’d just opened up. Do you know what it said on it huge letters?’
‘What?’
‘FOLLY,’ she said, like it was the worst news on all planet Earth.
‘So?’ Bella asked.
‘Well… you know… Lawrence used to call me Folly? It was his nickname for me when I was being a bit special.’
‘OH! I’ve seen that shop!’ Olivia said. ‘Isn’t it spelled F-o-l-l-i-e?’
‘Possibly, yes… But still, the timing of it just opening up.’
‘Strictly speaking it’s two words, spelled F-o-l-l-i-F-o-l-l-i-e,’ Olivia said, looking at Holly. ‘I think it’s time we had another talk about the rules.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, if you remember, some time ago, I drew up a provisional list of BUC rules for us all to abide by – mainly for our own protection, but I’m slightly worried that a) you’re not all adhering to them and b) we maybe need to add a few more to the initial draft, to help us all keep our sanity a bit more in check.’
Holly stifled a yawn, and with it the urge to say ‘someone’s sanity definitely needs keeping in check.’
The others shifted about in their seats.
‘Holly, I’m actually thinking of you in particular,’ Olivia said sternly.
Holly sat up straight in her chair, suddenly aware she was slouching. ‘Sorry, Miss.’
Olivia’s eyes switched to ‘evils’ setting.
‘Come on guys,’ Bella said, ‘I know all this seems a little officious forward-slash infantile, but I can’t help thinking if I’d had some of these rules around when I was going through the worst of it with Sam, it might’ve helped?’
Olivia smiled at Bella like a teacher would to her pet. ‘So,’ she began, just as the doorbell rang.
‘Who the shit’s that?’ Bella looked at Holly as if to say ‘you go.’
‘Maybe it’s one of Daniel�
�s girlfriends? I can’t keep up with them all, he’s like, Casanova MD at the moment,’ Holly said, getting up and heading to the intercom. ‘Hello?’
‘Holly, its Jez.’
Her stomach lurched. She covered the mouthpiece and whispered to the others, ‘Guys, it’s my boss. What’s he doing here? What have I cocked-up now?’
‘Fucked if we know. Go and find out!’ Harry said.
‘Just a minute,’ Holly said into the intercom, before heading down the stairs. She opened the door to a tear-stained Jeremy. He burst into fresh sobs as she took him in for an awkward hug.
‘Jez, what is it, what’s wrong?’
‘My wife’s left me.’
‘Oh! Shit, I’m so sorry,’ she said, relieved she wasn’t in trouble again. She leant forward to give him another hug. ‘Um, can I help? Is there any reason—’
‘Well, it’s Sunday night, so I thought…’
‘You thought what?’
‘I wasn’t sure if you had a drop-in policy or not? You know, your Break-up Club?’ he said as Holly’s mouth dropped to the floor.
‘It was presumptuous of me. I’m sorry, I’ll go,’ he backed away, his eyes watering again.
‘No, no, don’t be silly. Since you’ve come all this way…’
As they headed up the winding stairs, Holly wondered how she would explain to the others that they now had a fifty-year-old sociopath as their fifth member.
‘Guys,’ she said as she opened the door to the living room, ‘this is Jeremy. He’s suffered a recent heartbreak, so um, let’s all show him the support he needs, shall we?’
Harry leapt out of his chair to shake his hand. ‘Welcome, Jeremy!’ he said as awkward claps spread round the room.
‘Thanks mate.’
‘How do you have your tea?’ Harry said, putting the kettle on.
‘Or perhaps something stronger?’ Bella said, going over to the drinks cupboard.
‘Whisky?’
‘Sure. Double JD?’ she said, pouring it out and taking it over to him.
Jeremy clasped the glass with both hands, then looked up to see who had handed it to him. He quickly became locked in a nano-trance at the sight of Bella in her blue polka-dot dress and its halter-necked cleavage, punctuated by her big brown eyes. ‘Amazing, thank you. And you are?’
Break-Up Club Page 19
