Susan frowns and turns towards me. “I’m missing something. What happened that Christmas? She never said.”
I take a deep breath and grimace. “Paul fucked her, didn’t he? While she was still with Ian. Ian decided not to go to Ireland and he came back early, caught them, and basically Paul fucked off and left her with the fallout. He ran away, like he always does. I wanted to smack him. I knew he was playing around. I knew what he was really like and I couldn’t say anything.”
“Because it would hurt Lily?” She takes my hand.
“That. And because she’d realise, maybe, how I feel.”
She’s shaking her head. “Why would it be so bad if she found out?”
“Listen, the way I feel about her isn’t normal. I’m looking at you and feel nothing. I look at porn and feel nothing. I get all these women offering themselves and I feel nothing. Wouldn’t you run a mile if you found out someone was totally and utterly consumed with you? That he’s obsessed to the point of distraction and is utterly fucked-up because of it?”
She squeezes my hand and smiles. “That man you’re talking about, I married him. Which reminds me, I’d better get back to bed or you’ll have to deal with him too and he’s not as tight-lipped as me.” She ruffles my hair, kisses my forehead and makes to leave. “You’ll figure it out. Just remember, friendship is almost certainly the best foundation and she’s hurting right now. She needs a friend.”
She winks and leaves me behind. I stand up and realise the cold has entered my bones and I feel so weary. I climb back under the covers on the sofa and dream fitfully, thoughts of Lily whirling around my mind – her skin, her hair, her scent, her voice.
I have always, always loved Lily. That won’t ever change.
Chapter Three
The train clatters along between Castleford and Leeds, the journey too short and not enough time for me to get my head together. Leeds Station spits me out and I start the climb uphill towards Lily’s place near the university. I have no idea if she’ll be in or what I’ll find, but something is telling me to go and show I care.
The walk should take half an hour but unfortunately, I’m no mere mortal and it’s only been twenty minutes since I left the station when I find myself staring at the front door of her building. I’m contemplating what to do when someone leaves the building and I smile as though I live here and they’re helping me out because I can’t find my swipe card or whatever.
Anyway, I’m stalking upstairs with a huge thudding in my chest soon enough – no idea what I’m going to say or do.
Should I have brought flowers? Did I chew enough gum on the way here to mask the smell of not having been home last night? Do I look like a dirty stop-out? Should I have brought with me a care package or written her a poem or had a shave?
Fuck!
I’ve barely slept, my heart’s in tatters and I drank enough red wine last night to sail myself down the river towards the ocean. I have a splitting headache and the backs of my eyes are burning with the lack of sleep, constant staring into space and the unshed tears I haven’t allowed myself to cry yet.
I arrive at her door and hear the TV on inside. Good, she’s home. Now what to do?
Oh, knock. That would help.
I knock, or rather tap, gently.
She turns the sound down on the TV (if she even still lives here; for all I know she’s also done a runner to another country).
However, I feel like I’m being scoped when I hear the unmistakable sound of the tiny circular peephole cover behind the door, scraped away so she can see who it is.
“Go away, Theo!” she yells, and then I hear stomping, and the TV being turned up.
Okay, so what the fuck did I do? I only tried to warn her… and I suppose I smacked him about a bit when I last saw him, but only because he’d been messing around. I’m innocent.
God, I can’t do right for doing wrong.
“Lily,” I yell, “I’m leaving something behind the door for you. Catch you later!”
I wait a few seconds, then walk heavily along the hallway, slam the door on the corridor and wait another few moments before tiptoeing back.
I stand by the door in silence, waiting, hoping.
I hear the chain being removed and then the door slowly opening. The door opens a sliver and she quickly realises my ruse, tries to slam the door on me but unluckily, my fist is already in the way and my knuckles get slammed to buggery.
“Shit, Lily. Calm the fuck down.”
I shake my hand out and she puts her hands to her face as I let myself in.
“I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry!”
I look down at my hand which is just scratched, nothing more. “I’ll live.”
“Good, now can you go? I’ve had enough of visitors taking pity on me.”
“I’m not here to pity you. Get your coat on and let’s go for a walk.”
“You must be—”
“I’ll start singing in every accent imaginable. Loud enough all your neighbours will hear. Don’t think I won’t, Lily. Don’t test me. I know you don’t want to become the pariah on the block so let’s go.”
“Oh, fine!” She storms off, scowling, heading for her bedroom.
I thought her clothes were running gear but evidently, she was wearing her pyjamas because she’s gone to change and is slamming things around in the process.
While she’s out of my sight I take some deep breaths and try to calm myself down. I don’t know what I’m thinking but as I look around her flat, which is a mess and stinks of microwave food, I must have an instinct that she needs to get out – or else it’s the reminder this is where they were living together.
I stand by the open door and wait patiently. Within three minutes, her hair’s brushed, she’s wearing leggings and a floaty shirt, a denim jacket and a pair of big black sunglasses. She’s perfect.
“Better, now let’s get back to reality, shall we?” I demand, and she follows me out of the door, compliant.
Many times before today, when we were both feeling glum or rather I was, we’d head for Hotel Chocolat, stock up and head back to hers for a gorge session.
Today we buy takeaway drinks and a big bag of fancy chocolates, then head for the courtyard across the road, where there’s a little garden, benches and a bit of quiet away from the busy street nearby. I don’t know about her but I need fresh air and sitting in a packed, hot and sweaty coffee shop is just about my idea of hell right now.
“Aren’t you going to say anything about Paul?” she asks, as soon as we get sat down on a bench.
It’s the first thing she’s said since we left the flat. Wow. So that’s where her head’s at? Not, “So, how was the trip, Theo? How are you? Holding up? What’s new in your life?”
Playing second fiddle despite his disastrous decisions… not my idea of fun.
“What do you want me to say, Lily? That he’s a cunt of epic proportions and if I had any idea where he is right now, I’d take a Kalashnikov to him and shove it up his arse until he chokes on it.”
Her chest shakes as she tries to stop herself laughing and then it springs out of her, that amazing laugh of hers, even turning to me with a little tearful happiness in her eyes.
Her face falls again within moments and she opens the sweets, offers me one, though I decline. She sniffs a little and drags a tissue out of her pocket. My instincts take over and I wrap an arm around her shoulder. She takes my offer immediately and pushes her face into my chest, sighing now I’ve got her. I kiss the top of her head and smell her strawberry shampoo, my favourite – sometimes I even wash my hair with it just to smell like her.
Sad, sad arsehole, Theo. That’s what you are. I take a chocolate from her bag in the hope of stopping myself saying more.
“Who told you he’s not around anymore?” she asks, a bit of a tremble in her voice.
“Who’d you think?”
“Ah, Adam.”
“Yes.”
“So, you know about…?” She doesn’t say it
, but I hear the pain of it in her voice.
“I know about how much of a spineless cunt he is.”
“It was my fault as well,” she whispers. “I should’ve known better.”
Oh, the things I could say – should say – but now’s not the time. If it had been my baby, or even if she’d come to me and said she was in trouble by some other bloke and needed my help, there’s no way on earth I would ever leave her or ever not support her, no matter the outcome.
“There are things I know about Paul that would make you see things differently but that’s all I’ll say.” Better to maintain the moral high ground.
“Like what?” she asks, sitting up and scowling, almost burning herself as she forgets she’s holding scolding hot chocolate in her hand. I take our drinks and rest them on the arm of the bench next to me.
“I’m a gentleman, I don’t repeat the acts of a devil.”
“Fuck that, Theo. Tell me.”
God, I’m a sucker when she says my name.
I push my lips together and grimace, trying to think of the least hurtful thing possible. Trouble is, all the things we – Paul’s mates – know about him are truly repulsive.
“Where do I start, Lily? Where?”
“I don’t know. Start with the thing that’ll eradicate this pain, the thing that’ll make me realise he is a vile monster and he did break my heart, not the other way around. Because I keep thinking it’s me, that I did this, that I deserve this and I—”
“No,” I yell, a little loudly, catching the attention of other people milling about the courtyard or smoking outside the Marriott hotel nearby.
She has her hand on my forearm and I look down at it, seeing her shaken by my outburst. She has tears in her eyes and looks cracked, like a broken doll, all her beauty intact but the edges not the same.
“You have to tell me, Theo. This is driving me insane. You know what I do for a living, you know how I see and understand why people do the things they do, but this is different. This feels like he knows how much he’s hurt me and he doesn’t give a fuck. He left when I needed him most, he just went. Why would someone do that?”
“Because he’s an addict, Lily. Alright?”
I leave the bench and turn my back on her so she can’t see the look in my eyes.
“You really think he is?” she whispers, like she knew but didn’t want to believe it – like her mind knew but her heart wouldn’t accept it.
“I’ve seen him,” – I turn around towards her but keep my eyes on the floor – “so has Adam, even Tom and his brothers, we’ve all seen him at his worst. It’s not just booze, it’s sex, it’s everything bad. He’s addicted to fulfilling his own destruction. He’s dedicated himself to wrecking not only his life but everyone else’s, too. If you only knew—”
“Then tell me,” she yells, standing up, her neck and face red with stress and agitation.
Okay, the worst thing, then… the worst thing…
I lift my eyes to hers and see she’s in pain, but for some reason, she needs even more pain before she can reboot and reset herself.
“At Adam and Susan’s wedding, me and his mum went looking for him because he’d missed the whole ceremony. And by the way, his mum was there because Adam invited her, not because Paul couldn’t find a date – because Adam and him were best mates once upon a time and Lydia used to feed Adam his tea after they played football together. So, me and his mum went looking for him after the—”
“He was with me,” she harshly interjects.
“No, Lily. No. Right after the ceremony, we found him in the disabled toilet with a woman in uniform. He forced us out, locked the door properly and finished what he was up to. You also don’t know what he did the next day. He went straight to his ex’s house and got back together with her.”
I can see from the look on her face she knows about that bit. Also, it’s now dawning that Paul had sex with at least three women in the space of twenty-four hours… that she’s not special to him… she’s just another of his victims.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she spits.
“Because he’s an animal and you didn’t deserve to have your trust wrecked. I thought eventually you’d forget about him… that he’d never even dare consider settling down… that it wouldn’t get that far.”
“You should’ve told me.”
“I know that. I know now.”
She wipes the tissue across her face and sits back down, crumpled and dejected. I sit next to her and hand her the hot chocolate.
“I can see why we didn’t sit in now,” she chuckles, gathering herself.
“I know how it feels, you know,” I mutter, “we all do, especially Adam. We cared about him. We tried to help. Nothing worked. It hurts when you care and can’t help them. It hurts when they take out their own self-hate on you. It hurts like hell, I know that. But the truth is, every man and woman is responsible for their own actions and destiny, nobody else. There are a hundred other men out there, a thousand even, who’d kill to be your partner and take care of you, no matter what. I know he’s your sickness and you’ve found it hard to quit him, but you’re stronger than this, Lily. You can overcome this and conquer. You don’t need him. He’s toxic. He will never be better until he admits he needs help, but he won’t. We all know it. All of us. A real man would never have left you in this state. It doesn’t matter how much it hurts to lose a baby, he should have put you first and he didn’t. You’re the one it happened to… you’re the one he took risks with. No real man would do that to you and run, Lily. I guarantee it. You deserve better and the only person who can save him from himself is him. You can’t. You tried and look what it cost you.”
She falls apart and I hold her in my arms as she cries, broken and destroyed. My heart breaks and I cry when she’s not looking, holding the crumpled frame of my once-powerful best friend in my arms.
“I missed you,” she says, finally. “These past months, I missed you so much.”
And just like that, I begin to heal.
Chapter Four
A few hours later, we’ve eaten a Chinese takeaway and put some rubbish on the TV that appears to have been boring enough to draw her into a deep sleep. She’s resting in my lap, her perfect head right where I’d like her to explore… and in a dark, sensual way. I’m a voyeur when she’s like this, inert and mine to stare at, fantasise about and etch onto my memory. Her long hair is tied back… and I’m having to fight the urge to release it, run my fingers through it and clutch it between my fists.
The distance between her nose and her top lip is very short but the pronounced and deeply accentuated gap is something I feel I’d need to lick and nibble very, very slowly. Then I’d tuck my tongue under her top lip until gradually, painstakingly, commanding her mouth and lashing my tongue against hers until she comes around me from kissing alone. Fuck, I’ll be hard in no time if I’m not careful – and she’s still got puffy cheeks from more crying earlier.
Her long eyelashes fan out against her cheeks, beckoning me to kiss her eyelids and let them tickle my chin. Her beautiful boobs have slid to one side but I can just see enough to know they’re bouncy and would fit deliciously into my mouth or hands. Then there’s her hand which is resting on her belly and all I want to do is link my fingers with hers, wake her, lead her to bed and help us both forget we ever hurt. I want to know what she tastes like and have her tear the hair out of my head as she comes so hard, she literally can’t take it. I’ve slept with less women than I have fingers on one hand but I know she’d be satisfied with me. I know that because I wouldn’t ever get tired of screwing the living daylights out of her.
Feeling like there might be questions if she woke up now and found me slightly hard, I try to think of things not sexual like Paul… my mother’s bad joints… the dead plants at home that need throwing out because they’ve turned manky. Donald Trump’s hair…
Slightly deflated, I try to wake her gently. “Lily, I’d better get home.”
It’s n
ot right to be here like this when she’s so vulnerable and I have these motives I’m struggling to resist. She’s broken and fragile and she needs a friend who isn’t constantly wondering if she wears normal bras or front-fastening ones, because that would be helpful to know.
“What? Don’t go,” she mumbles.
“I better get back and check on Mum. She’s still a little unwell at the moment.”
“Are you sure you can’t stay?” She sits up, rubbing her eyes and looking like she might cry again.
“Why don’t I make you a cup of tea and stay until you fall asleep again? Tuck you up in bed.”
Her bottom lip wobbles with gratitude and my soul damn near flies out of my body just to kiss hers.
She heads off to the bedroom while I visit the kitchen and boil the kettle. I search the cupboards for signs he was here – like the coffee he drinks which she wouldn’t because she mostly has tea, or those tubs of ramen noodles he’s been living on for a decade now. There’s nothing in the house but tea, milk and empty takeaway cartons, plus a few half-eaten meals left in the fridge to moulder. I chuck those in the bin and as I’m filling the trash receptacle, discover a load of unused coffee sachets and packets of ramen noodles trashed rather than sent to the local homeless shelter. While the tea brews I tie up the bin bag and take it to the door so I can dispose of it on my way out. I also make a mental note to get her a bunch of groceries delivered to the door.
I place her cup of tea on the nightstand and she watches as I sit on the edge of the mattress, making sure she’s tucked in. She’s all bundled up in pyjamas and now her hair’s free, flowing behind her.
“What are you going to do now you’re back?” she asks, biting her thumb, pensive.
“I’ve got to go back to London and sort a few things out.”
Bad Actor Page 2
