‘But listen,’ she said as they were heading out the door, ‘don’t feel you have to wait for me. You know I’m the least fit person in the world.’
‘Well let’s just see, shall we?’ he said as they set off towards the Heath.
After a whole minute of running down the steps in the flat, and then onto the crowded Fortess Road, Holly stopped.
‘Harry. There’s something wrong with my legs. It really ACHES to move them. Maybe I actually don’t have any muscles. Just lead, instead??’
‘You’re just full of booze toxins. But they’ll pass through in a bit and you’ll loosen up.’
They started up again. As they reached the entrance to the Heath, the gradient got steeper, she could feel a stitch coming on, and her teeth were starting to go numb.
‘Harry,’ she said, panting and wheezing, ‘now my teeth feel all weird. Is that normal?’
Harry grinned and started to speed up.
‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Shit. Why – don’t – people – tell – you – it’s – this – ex-haust-ing? Also, you didn’t tell me there’d be a hilly bit! I need to work up to that! Can we stop? Here. Just by this fountain.’ Holly drank from the water fountain as though she’d been trekking through Rajasthan for days. She splashed some water onto the back of her neck, and onto Harry, who was jogging up and down on the spot and doing star-jumps.
‘Show-off.’
‘Jabba the Hut,’ Harry said, breaking into an uphill run. ‘You really are immensely unfit, aren’t you?’
‘OI!… Wait! Not uphill!’ she said as she ran after him. Although actually, it was a bit easier now. She was looser; he hadn’t lied. She could even feel a small amount of – what was it they called it – stride?
Out of nowhere, an image of Lawrence with his stunning Facebook fiancée appeared in her mind. And then she felt someone pushing her. Maybe it was the ghost of Mrs Slydewell, her PE teacher from school, who used to run behind her in cross-country and force her to run by pressing on her back with both hands and brute force. Or maybe it was something else. But somehow, even after the agreed twenty minutes she had signed up for, Holly was still running. Mile after mile.
‘Hey! Harry! I think I’ve been through the brick wall! The anger must be keeping me going!’
Harry turned to her and grinned. ‘Haha! You’re like, Forrest Grump!’
She started to laugh and couldn’t stop. Then she realised it was exhausting to laugh and run at the same time, so quickly she visualised Jeremy and his audacious recording of their private BUC meeting, and there it was again – fuel through fury.
Flying down the main slope at the far side of the Heath, the wintry sun on her neck, she just could not stop. The anger was like guzzling six protein shakes. She felt an inner strength and a feeling that, just maybe, a small seed of defiance would one day bloom out of the wreckage, and with it the promise that one day she would love again. ‘HOORAY!’ she shouted as they reached the entrance gate and began a gentle hobble home.
When they reached the flat, Harry couldn’t help laughing. ‘Hol, your face is redder than a genetically modified strawberry!’
They headed straight for the kitchen, where Harry began preparing a huge feast with which to reward himself. ‘Want some?’
‘No thanks. My insides are still in shock. In fact I’m starting to feel quite nauseous.’
‘You should make sure you stretch out.’
‘Oh I intend to.’
She showered and headed into her room, to lie down for a long time.
As she pulled back the covers, her phone rang, and the automated robot voice began calling out, ‘What a cock. What a cock. What a cock.’ She laughed out loud, before turning her phone off and closing her eyes.
Later, she hobbled into the living room where Olivia and Harry were drinking tea before the week’s meeting. Despite half their members being either geographically or mentally absent, Olivia had insisted on continuing with a skeleton BUC service.
‘Wow! This running lark’s something else. I feel like a born-again Christian; I just want to praise everyone and everything!’
Holly smiled and kissed each of them hello on the cheeks. In return, they looked at her as if to say, what have you done with Holly?
‘Seriously. I feel all happy and floaty!’
‘Jeez, calm down. Next you’ll be running a marathon!’ Harry said.
Holly raised her eyebrows. ‘It’s all right this, though isn’t it? It’s like a natural high that you don’t need anyone else for. Mmm, maybe I’ll get one of those Nike Fuel bands. You know, to help me train.’
The others looked at Holly like she’d just spoken Swahili.
‘You’ve changed,’ Olivia said in mock disillusionment. ‘Seriously, you look dead skinny, so it must be working!’
‘As if, Liv! I think you’ve got reverse-body-dysmorphia-by-proxy!’
At this point Holly noticed that Olivia was also glowing.
‘Have you been working out too?’ Holly asked in mock-Californian.
‘If you call break-up sex exercise, then yes,’ she sighed. ‘It’s all off with Jonny again,’ she announced, pinching a cola bottle sweet from the bowl in the centre of the table.
‘Oh no,’ Holly said, giving her a hug. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘What’s happened now?’ Harry asked, handing out wine glasses. Olivia shot him a look as if to say, ‘Oh I’m sorry, am I boring you?’
He filled her glass first by way of apology.
‘Oh, it’s fairly predictable stuff,’ she said, taking a sip. ‘He’s got a job again, and all of a sudden he’s stopped being all needy. Turns out he just wanted mothering for a bit while his ego recovered from the shame of being made redundant.’
‘No. What a knob!’ Holly said, doing a good job of surprise.
‘That’s it now. I was totally kidding myself. I really thought we could do the whole open relationship thing.’
‘I don’t understand the point in them. Surely they just mean you don’t love each other enough?’ Holly said.
Olivia shook her head. ‘I used to be all about the open relationship before Ross. But now I’ve stopped even looking at other men. And the thought of Jonny with anyone else makes me feel physically sick. How did this happen?’
‘Well, if you want my two-pennies’ worth again,’ Holly said, ‘you’re just a knob that’s never properly been in love ’til now.’
‘Had to pick a mandroid for my first time, didn’t I?’ she sighed and took a large sip of wine. ‘And yet when we’re together, it feels so connected! You know, when he’s looking in my eyes I think he really does feel it too. It’s like I almost come close to this secret part of him. But after it’s over, that bit of him shuts down, the mandroid armour seals back up and he’s gone. Then he’s doubly cold afterwards, I barely get a kiss on the mouth then if I’m lucky.’
‘Wow. He’s like, Vivian in Pretty Woman.’
The girls turned to Harry.
‘I had two sisters, OK?’
‘Anyway, back to me please.’
‘Sorry Liv,’ Harry said. ‘But hey, maybe it’s for the best. You know, quit before you fall any deeper?’
Olivia looked at Harry and nodded, her face gaunt and sad.
‘Now you sound like Will Young!’ Holly said.
‘Are we sure he’s not gay? Harry, that is,’ Olivia said to Holly.
Holly shook her head. ‘Oh no, he’s not gay all right,’ she said, giggling, before feeling her cheeks go red. WHOOPS.
‘What makes you so sure?’ Olivia said, looking suspiciously from Holly to Harry. Holly’s heart began thumping and she prayed that a) the others couldn’t hear this and b) Olivia wasn’t about to uncover The Dreadful Secret.
‘Oh, let’s just say the walls are thin,’ she said.
Harry shot her a look that said ‘good save’ and her heart rate began to return to normal.
‘Hey, isn’t it your first episode tonight, Hol?’ Harry said, heading over to
turn on the television.
‘Yep it is, but I’d rather you didn’t watch it.’
‘Have you actually made a secret camera show about us anyway?’ Olivia asked.
‘No I swear! It’s just so abominable, I don’t want anyone to see it. I’ve been thinking about asking if I can be called Olly Braithwaite on the credits, it’s so awful.’
‘OK. Nuff said,’ Olivia said. ‘So how is crazy Jez these days?’
‘Oh I’m fairly sure he wants my head on a stick. Partly my fault, but partly that he’s more mentally unstable than any of the contestants. Did I tell you he secretly recorded the sound from that BUC meeting he dropped in on? Then made a trailer out of it all, to send to Channel 5. I can tell you this now that Bella’s gone!’
‘Holy fuck. That’s illegal!’ Olivia said.
‘How are you still working for him?’ Harry said.
‘I have no choice. Lawry cleaned me out. I’d need to get myself out of the red before I could even contemplate leaving. No, I need to stick it out ’til the end I think.’
‘Fucking phone,’ Olivia said out of nowhere. She stared down at it willing it to beep in some way.
‘You know, it’s not the phone’s fault you’re upset,’ Harry said, ‘That’s just you, projecting onto the phone. You’re choosing to filter your experience of the phone in that way.’
‘Qué?’ Olivia said, in the manner of Manuel of Fawlty Towers.
‘Seriously, if we can all learn to control how our thoughts influence what we see, we might be able to control our break-up woes,’ Harry said. ‘We just need to reset our filters.’
‘Where’s this all this coming from?’ Holly asked, shaking her head in wonder.
‘It’s basic NLP.’
They all looked confused.
‘Neuro-linguistic Programming. I did a minor module in it at uni.’
Olivia turned to him. ‘Oh Harry, can’t you, won’t you, gateway me, please? You must have some single mates?’
‘Oh Christ. Now you as well?! Look I’m sorry, my friends are all either engaged, married or boring, I’m afraid. Why else do you think I’d be hanging out with you losers so much?’
No one batted an eyelid.
‘Fair,’ Olivia said.
‘Are none of your married lot divorced yet, though?’ Holly asked, half joking.
‘OK enough about boys,’ Harry declared.
‘You’re right, Harry. We’ll stop now. Let me cook something for everyone – Liv, when did you last eat? You look positively skeletal.’
Olivia blushed, but nobody noticed because a shadow the size of Ben Nevis had just passed across Harry’s face.
‘Um, Holly,’ Harry said, ‘do you happen to follow Stephen Fry?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘On Twitter. He’s just, um, tweeted about your show.’
‘Oh really?!’ Holly’s heart stopped; first in a good way, then bad. ‘Oh, fuck. He’s a poster boy for mental health awareness, isn’t he. This is bad, isn’t it?’
‘Um, it’s not one hundred percent complimentary,’ Harry said, beginning to read aloud from his phone. ‘“#TheMadHouse is the most morally reprehensible tripe I’ve ever encountered. Genuinely thought was watching ep. from @Aiannucci’s Time Trumpet.’”
‘Oh dear,’ Holly said, ‘I totally saw this coming.’
‘It’s been retweeted 1,437 times. So far.’
‘I’ll never work again. Argh, I have had it with shit, brain-dead telly!’
‘So do something about it,’ Harry said. ‘Write your way out of it.’
‘I would! But I need Lawrence to help me.’
‘Can I just stop you there?’ Harry interrupted.
The girls went quiet. Holly watched him expectantly. He picked up his drink.
Moments later, Holly nodded. ‘You’re right. How long before I stop saying shit like that? What a waste of life this is.’
‘I’LL SAY,’ Olivia said, her eyes catatonic with boredom.
‘How long does it take to get over someone? How do you even know when you’re over them?’
‘You just know,’ Harry said. ‘The other day, I had this annoying wodge of Sellotape stuck to my shoe. It’d been there so long, dangling along, not enough to trip me up, but just enough to make me aware of its presence and piss me off by making me slightly off balance. Then, after walking around all day, I noticed it wasn’t there anymore. I hadn’t noticed it go. It’s a bit like that, I guess.’
‘That’s beautiful,’ Holly said.
‘Beautiful in a “sponsored by Ryman’s” kind of way,’ Olivia said.
‘Don’t be mean,’ Holly said.
‘I’m just saying. It’s about as profound as Tippex.’
‘You have no soul!’ Harry said. ‘FACT.’
‘Oh don’t do that. Lawrence used to say “FACT” all the time.’
They all glared at Holly. ‘Oops. I’m SO sorry.’
‘You know, Holly it’s ironic,’ Harry began, ‘considering you’re an editor for a living, you’re pretty sloppy at editing your own thoughts.’
Holly stared at Harry as though he’d just seen right through to her soul.
‘He’s right,’ Olivia added. ‘You need to look at all your memories of Lawrence and instead of replaying them and torturing yourself, kick the fuckers to the cutting-room floor. Leave them there, like the deleted scenes they deserve to be.’
‘That’s your problem, Hol; you’re an emotional hoarder,’ Harry said.
Holly looked down at her feet. ‘Blimey. Nail. Head. It’s like I need to just clear the hard-drive of memories in my head! So what are we going to do about it? Does anyone have one of those machines they have in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind? That would be the answer.’
They all fell silent. After a while, a glint appeared in Harry’s eyes.
‘I’ve got it. The next best thing!’ he said, rubbing his hands together. ‘I’ve got the perfect wee plan for how we can all move on quicker.’
‘OH GOOD!’ Holly said, her eyes lindy-hopping with excitement. ‘Anything you can do to help me pull myself out of my arse. What is it?’
‘Mmmm. You’ve got exactly the same “cunning plan face” on that you had with Bleak Camping,’ Olivia said.
‘Is this going to be as well-thought-out as that?’ Holly asked, her eyes narrowing.
30. The Ex-orcist
‘Holly!’ Harry yelled after work a few days later. ‘Roll up, roll up, it’s the fifth of November! Know what that means?’
Holly placed her bag on the hallway floor and scrunched her nose at Harry. ‘Fireworks?’
‘Liv’s here, I’ve got a box of wine, a cheap grill, and we’re officially declaring an ex-orcism!’ he said, throwing his head back and doing a ‘Muwhaahaahahah!’ evil laugh like they do in bad horror films.
‘Ooooh. Actually, that does sound like my kind of Bonfire night.’
‘None of this, “remember, remember the fifth of November.” This bonfire night is all about forgetting.’
‘I’ll drink to that!’ Holly said, her eyes widening. Harry passed her a glass of red wine. ‘Oh, actually, not for me thanks.’
‘I’m sorry. Have we met?’
‘Seriously. I’ve been thinking I need to cut down a bit.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘Yes, you’re right. I’ll start cutting down after tonight.’
‘That’s the spirit,’ he said as they clinked glasses. ‘I’m actually quite excited about all this, in a sick way. I feel totally ready to burn Rachel’s things. It’s perfect timing too, as things have slowly been progressing with Window Girl.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yep. She was in the same lift as me at the station the other day. There were too many bloody people in the way so I couldn’t say hi though. But something’s on the cards, I can feel it. Anyway, on to the matter at hand. Pyromania!’
‘OK. I’ll just go and get the break-up bags,’ Holly said, heading to the cupboard
of broken dreams.
When she came back up the stairs, the smoke was already filling the living room, and with it a trail of laughter. She followed the sound to the roof terrace. In one hand was her break-up bag, which she hadn’t dared open since its first collation. In the other was the lighter, no less festering one of Bella’s. She could already sense the familiar stench of the singular mouldy Adidas from within the flimsy Morrison’s bag.
Arriving at the scene of the fire, she placed both bags down on the ground, and took a swig of JD from the bottle Harry was holding up at her.
‘I’m the fire-starter. Twisted fire-starter,’ he sang, a maniacal expression in his eyes. Huge orange flames were billowing everywhere, clouds of black smoke trailing off into N19.
‘Now, as we know,’ Olivia began as if she was centre stage at an awards ceremony, ‘our dear Bella couldn’t be here tonight, but I know she would if she could. And as I don’t have any Ross paraphernalia, I shall be burning Sam’s things on her behalf.’
‘In an important practical demonstration of our absolute allegiance to Rule Number Ten,’ Holly added.
‘Yeah. What she said,’ Olivia said, smiling in approval.
As the others applauded, Holly opened the bag and began to place the little pieces of Sam onto the fire. The birthday, Christmas and Valentine’s cards were the first to go. Then the pack of Embassy cigarettes, which they divvied up and lit on the flames. Then poor Jezebel. ‘Aw, Jez!’ cried Holly, covering her eyes. There was a small, mean part of her wishing that it was evil Jez there instead. Then all three of them watched the remaining Sam debris snap, crackle and pop, while they smoked their cigarettes and Harry held up his camera phone to capture it all for Bella.
Harry took a large glug from his beer. ‘Burn baby burn!’ he sang out as the others cheered and Holly took over from filming. She looked through the lens at her friend’s most heartfelt memories as they turned to embers. She zoomed in on poor Jezebel, who was slowly morphing into a teddy-shaped pile of ash. ‘There he blows! Bye bye Sam!’ and so on, they sang out.
As the flames died down a little, she reached for the bag-au-Lawrence, with a heavy heart.
Break-Up Club Page 31
