by Lily Morton
He hesitates, remorse written all over his face. “I didn’t mean it like that. It came out the wrong way. You’re not a whore Nell, never. It just wouldn’t be right Nell - you and me. I don’t want a relationship honey at all. I’m not able to love anyone. I don’t want that, particularly not with you.”
“It doesn’t matter.” It never does. He tries to take my hand but I pull clear and this time he doesn’t stop me. I gather myself. I need to get home. At least at home I can see the blows coming. Sid’s just wounded me and I didn’t anticipate it. That’s why it hurts so much I tell myself. “I’m going home.”
“What? You can’t,” he says in a panicked voice. “Please Nell, let’s talk about this.”
I whirl on him. “Let’s not. In fact let’s not talk about it at all, ever again. We’re on tour together for the next few months so let’s be professional. I don’t want any awkwardness between us or I won’t be able to do my job. Can we agree to be civil?”
He stares at me, and then the turmoil is wiped from his face leaving the hard, distant expression I’ve become so familiar with. “Suits me,” he says harshly. “Forget about it. We’ll go on as normal.”
“Fine.” I walk to the door. “Please say my goodbyes to everyone and make some excuse.”
“You’ll wait,” he snaps in a hard voice. “There’s no way that you’re walking home. I’ll order you a taxi.”
“Okay,” I say in a dead voice.
“What about your coat?” This is said in a diffident voice but when I look at him his eyes are burning. My gaze drops.
“Give it to one of the whores at Kings Cross. They probably earned it more than me.” I go to pull open the door, but I’m forestalled when he pulls me back and slams it closed again.
Leaning into me he says in a cold, hard voice. “I’m going to ignore that fucking comment Nell because you’re upset, but if you ever call yourself a whore again you and I are going to have a problem. Do you understand me?” I nod reluctantly. “You are going to take that coat and you are going to wear it, and if I ever see that fucking rag that you’ve been wearing again, I’m going to rip it off your tight little body and cut it up. Do you understand me?”
I stare at him but his face is impassive. Hating him suddenly I pull free. “I’ll wear it but I just want you to know that every time I wear it I’m hating it and thinking of the way that you made me feel tonight.” He winces and it’s like fuel to me. “Anyway, it’ll make me look good on my next date won’t it?” His sharp intake of breath is my reward, but later on sitting in the back of the taxi that he paid for, watching the city flow by, my eye is caught by the bag with my new coat in that he set inside before we drew off and my eyes fill with tears.
“Alright love?” asks the driver, looking at me nervously as if I’m going to fall to the floor of the taxi and have hysterics.
I scrub my eyes. “I will be,” I say determinedly. “I just need to keep moving.”
Six
Three days later I’m standing in the coach park of a service station on the M25, waiting for everyone. It’s freezing and I’m massively early because I was so worried about being late and holding everybody up. I pace a few steps away from my suitcase trying to keep warm and mentally run through everything. I have my passport and EHIC card in my wallet, and I’ve changed some money into euros. More importantly I’ve got my iPod and my Kindle, their chargers and my set of earplugs. I’ve toured before and sleeping in bunks amongst a load of blokes that have usually had a shed load to drink I know I’ll need them to block out the snoring. It’s just a shame that I can’t block out the smells as well.
I pace back again and the material of my new coat slapping against my legs makes me pause for a second. I can’t deny that it’s so much warmer than my old one, and my confidence is bolstered by the knowledge that I look good in it. However, it’s tainted by what came after. When I left him on Christmas Day I’d been utterly determined never to wear it and had even toyed with the idea of giving it to Molly as a ‘fuck you’ gesture, but something soft inside me had utterly rebelled against this. I couldn’t get the image of his anxious face when he’d given it to me out of my head. I know in my heart that he had meant this as a nice gesture for my comfort, and it seems mean to judge him for what came after.
At this thought my hand moves unconsciously to my pocket for my phone. I’d received the first text message at midnight on the same night. It had come up as an unknown number but I knew it was from him before I opened it. The message was simple:
Sid: I’m sorry
I’d ignored it but ten minutes later another text message had arrived:
Sid: I know it’s clichéd but it wasn’t you it was me. I’ve had someone sleep with me for a lot less than a Burberry coat. I just had a flashback and automatically reverted to being an arsehole. I know you’re not a whore and it was unforgivable of me if I made you feel like one
I’d brooded over this for a long while because I had a sneaky suspicion that the someone he mentioned was Leah, and if so why did he still take her calls and speak to her? Why did he worry over her and think about her? Unable to come to any conclusions I’d put the phone away and by the next morning he’d obviously got the message, or so I thought until this morning when another two messages had been waiting for me:
Sid: You’d better be wearing that coat Nell, because so help me if you aren’t I will put it on you myself and it will be in a public place. I’m sure you remember what happened last time we were in a private place, just you, me and the coat, so if you don’t want a repeat make sure that you’re wearing that fucker
Sid: And the hat, scarf and gloves
Bastard I think, shoving the phone away and becoming aware that two huge coaches are pulling up. A man alights from one and walks towards me with his hand outstretched.
“Nell Slater?” he asks.
“Yes.” I take his warm, firm hand and shake it.
“Scott Peters. I’m the tour manager.”
“Oh wow I thought Bill was doing that.” I like his open smiling face and bright ginger hair, but to be honest he could look like Shrek and he’d still be an improvement over Sourpuss Bill.
“He was but Sid decided to do things differently and voila!” He spreads out his hands in explanation.
“How did he manage to get you on such short notice?” I ask but his reply is cut short by a cold voice from behind him. I suppose when you think of the devil he’s supposed to materialize and here he is - Bill.
“The driver wants you Scott,” he says coldly, running his eyes over me expressionlessly.
“Oh, okay, do you want to come with me Nell and I’ll show you around?”
“No need Scott I’ll do it,” Bill purrs.
Scott smiles awkwardly and dashes off back to the bus while I pull my gaze back to Bill. “Nice to see you again,” I say insincerely, and he smiles.
“Of course. Well let me show you to your quarters Miss Slater.” He waits, staring into the distance while I manhandle my unwieldy suitcase and bags and makes no attempt to help me. When I’ve got everything together he gestures to the buses. “You’ll be on the second bus Miss Slater with the staff and security,” he intones, and at my look of surprise he smiles. “Why, don’t tell me that you expected to be on the band’s bus?”
“No, of course not,” I say hurriedly, but I’m lying because a part of me did expect just that, I suppose because in my short acquaintance with them I’ve always been treated as one of them. However, I’m not and Bill is obviously revelling in this chance to reinforce that with me. I won’t let him see that I’m thrown so I smile. “Lead on then Bill,” I say cheerily, using his name to piss him off.
His smile twists and he gestures to the second bus and pats it. “I’ll let you pick your bunk.” I smile and go to walk past him and then gasp as he grabs my arm. He’s not hurting me but it’s still a tight and unexpected grip. “Be careful Miss Slater,” he whispers. “I’ve got my eye on you.”
“Only one
?” I gasp.
“Very funny. Quite a comedienne. It must be your good sense of humour that’s snared Sid Hudson’s attention, because it’s quite obviously not your looks.” I gasp in outrage but he carries on talking, quickly now, because out of the corner of my eye I can see Scott approaching. “Just remember Miss Slater, the man’s an addict. He may have come out of rehab but he’ll end up back there time and time again. Don’t get involved - leave him to the more experienced of his old friends.”
“Like Leah?” I ask furiously and he smirks.
“Oh, that’s so sweet, you’re protective already. Don’t bother, because I’ve seen hundreds like you. They choke up the bus with their demands and cheap perfume, and then they’re gone just as soon as they’ve opened their legs. You’re exactly the same as them, just on a contract, and that’s the only difference. Once the contract’s done he’ll get rid of you because you are all utterly disposable to him. The only things that have ever mattered to him are Leah and coke, and I’m not quite sure which order of importance he’d put them in. Your importance to him can be assessed by the fact that it was Sid who insisted that you be on this bus.”
I try but I don’t manage to conceal my wince of pain, and he smiles opening his mouth to carry on his attack, but he’s interrupted by a throat clearing and we turn to see Scott standing next to us looking awkward because he’s obviously interrupting something. “Shall I take over now Bill?” he asks brightly.
“Yes, of course. I think Miss Slater and I are finished for now.” He lets go of my arm and brushes his suit jacket down. “Remember what I said Miss Slater.” Then he pauses. “You really do look very familiar to me.” I don’t think that I manage to cover up my alarm because interest flares in his eyes. “Hmm,” he says. “I’ll see you soon I think,” and then he heads over to the band’s bus.
We stand for a second until Scott stirs. “Bit of a funny one isn’t he?”
I laugh but it’s strained. “You can say that again. I keep thinking that he should announce his entrances and exits with a bang and a cloud of smoke.”
“Yes, and one of those mad villain laughs.” We look at each other and laugh. “Come on,” he says. “I’ll show you around.” He dutifully shows me over the huge bus which is decorated in black and silver. There’s a seating area and a little kitchenette with a microwave, but the majority of the room is taken up with bunks, all in their little curtained alcoves and interspersed with cupboard space. He points to the end bunk. “I’d probably take this one as you’ve got first pick. It’s past the toilet so you won’t be woken up by men stumbling to the loo every five minutes, and you won’t have people walking by all the time.”
“This is the one then.” I sling my bag onto the bunk.
He hesitates. “I’d let you have the back bedroom but I’ve had to set it up as an office. You can leave your bag in the corridor down the side of it and take that wardrobe space next to your bunk. The lads in here will live out of their cases. I’ve never known anyone on this bus to hang clothes up.”
“Thanks and this is fine don’t worry,” I smile.
“To be honest I’d presumed you’d be travelling with the boys because Adam is, but Bill was very insistent.” He shrugs, a little embarrassed.
“Don’t worry.” I wish that I could smash Bill’s head in with my suitcase, but it’s not Scott’s fault so I smile. With that he takes his leave to sort something out, and I throw myself onto my bunk and draw the little curtain along looking at what will be my home for the next few months. It’s cosy with a little shelf running along the bottom to keep my stuff on, and to be honest anywhere away from my mum and Molly is a palace. I think it might be a hidden blessing to be away from Sid too because as much as I’m attracted to him, Bill is right. I’m disposable to him and I can’t be that because I’m disposable to everyone else in my life. I just want someone to whom I matter. Dismissing the depressing thoughts I swing my legs off the bunk and start unpacking.
Sid
Charlie and I pull up to the bus to find Bram outside slumped against the side smoking. “You’re late,” he says without much passion.
“Yeah, well you try separating Charlie and Mabe. It was like Romeo and Juliet. Although without the stabbing and poison,” I add as an afterthought.
“Fuck off,” Charlie says in a surly voice, and boards the bus with us following him.
“Okay,” I shout after him. “You’ve talked me round. We’ll keep the poisoning!”
Bram laughs. “Yeah, don’t eat your fucking cornflakes.” A raised middle finger is our only answer. On board I greet Seth and Adam with hugs and back slaps and then groan loudly as I see Bill talking to Charlie.
“What the fuck is he doing here?” I snarl at Seth.
“Calm down,” he says, ever the peace maker, and then directs a curious look at me. “What’s up with you?” he mutters. “You’ve been in a foul mood since Christmas.”
I rotate my shoulders in discomfort. “I’m alright. I just hate Christmas.”
“Okay.” He clearly doesn’t believe me and why would he? I love Christmas. I look around trying like fuck to look casual.
“No Nell yet?” I ask and he chuckles because the bastard can see right through me.
“Not yet,” he replies but I already know it. I don’t know what it is about her but the air seems to change when she’s around and I always know when she’s there. Mind you the way she looked at me on Christmas Day I think I’d know she was nearby because she’d be sticking a fucking knife in my back. I know that I’ve been in a fucker of a mood the last few days, but I’ve wanted to reach back and kick my own arse every time I think of that look on her face that I alone put there. I’m a complete twat because I know that there’s something wrong at home. I know she’s not happy. I know she’s too thin and cold all the time, and all I’ve wanted to do since I’ve met her is to make things better. This impulse bewilders me because I thought I’d lost it in the bedroom of my old home on a night eighteen months ago. The fact that it’s back disturbs me enormously. I don’t have the room in my life or the inclination to be in a relationship and I’ve tried to keep my distance, but the thought that I had left her feeling like a whore guts me. I’d just put my hand on the coat and it had flung me straight back to multiple encounters with Leah over the years, and all the blow jobs and shags I’d had so that she could thank me for new clothes and shoes at first, and then baggies of coke later.
I scrub my hands over my face wishing that I could erase the memories of Leah, and almost as if my wish has been granted I remember doing this on Christmas Day when Nell had gone and I could smell the scent of her hair on my hands. I have a flashback to the feel of her in my hands, all supple strength and energy. It had been like touching a live wire and I’d thought I’d burn if I didn’t get inside her. Embarrassingly I’d jacked myself off later lying with my head thrust into sheets that smelt of her. Suddenly all I want to do is see her, fuck the distance, and I turn to Charlie. “We’ll get going when Nell gets here,” I say, abruptly breaking into his conversation with Bill who promptly smiles pityingly like he’s dealing with a small child, and my fists clench.
Seeing that Charlie breaks in. “Where is she? Has anyone seen her?”
“Miss Slater is here already,” Bill purrs, smiling at me. “She was actually the first to arrive.”
“Where is she then?” I ask, puzzled.
“On the other bus.”
“Why?” I ask in a harsh voice. “Why is she on a bus with a load of strange men? She should be on here with us.”
“Yes, another load of strange men,” Bram mutters and then holds his hands up when I glare at him. I gesture to Bill to walk with me, all the time fantasising about frogmarching him to the front of the bus and kicking him straight out of the door with my foot up his arse.
“You can go and fetch her Bill,” I grit out. “Make your apologies for putting her on the wrong bus, and when she’s here you can go and we can set off.”
He sm
iles in an embarrassed way and leans towards me. “I’m afraid it was Miss Slater’s choice to be on that bus,” he whispers and I jerk.
“Why?” I ask, and I know it’s fucking plaintive but I can’t help it.
“I don’t know. She just said that she thought it would be more comfortable.”
I stare at him for a long minute, my brain stumbling and jerking. She doesn’t want to be with me. I’ve fucked everything up. Then I force myself to harden up.
“Anything else?” he asks.
“No,” I say coldly and he goes back to shake hands with the boys and then makes his way off the bus without bothering to shake mine.
Charlie comes up beside me. “Is anyone helping Nell?” he asks, giving me a searching look.
“No need,” I say coldly, turning away. “She can stay on the other bus. It’s better that way.”
“Are you sure?” He sounds confused.
“Oh yes,” I say in a dead voice. “It’s better all-round if she’s not with us.”
Nell
A week later I lie in my little bunk feeling my body sway with the movement of the bus as we speed through the night on the way to Hamburg to play the next gig. We’ve just played Berlin and like all the gigs so far it’s been brilliant with an amazing atmosphere. All the venues that we’ve played have been great, and we’ve played in some fantastically over the top theatres and old clubs so Scott is definitely earning his money. The tour has been sold out for ages and the fans have been going mad over the new stuff. The album is riding at number one for the second week, and the first single is also at number one.
The only blot on my horizon is Sid, and he makes my heart hurt despite my best efforts. I suppose he’s kept to his agreement to be civil, but it’s only in the broadest sense of the word because what he is, is cold. He’s completely shut off from me, and no conversational overture that I try manages to thaw him. He replies when I talk to him and speaks to me about the gigs and arrangements, but that’s it and it hurts. It makes his previous distance look like over the top niceness.
