‘I can’t believe it,’ George said, shaking his head. ‘How can this have happened when he’s running a successful business?’
‘He’s bankrupt. The business is gone. He drained it all. Bet on too many horses that didn’t win, bought too much crap we didn’t need.’
Laurel clenched her fists. She’d told Nico they didn’t need a second television for the bedroom, or a huge ash black wall unit that covered an entire wall. She’d told him and he’d reassured her that everything was fine, that they could afford it.
‘So where is he? At work? Has he found a job?’
She sighed, looking through the living room doorway and down through the hall to the closed bedroom door.
‘He’s been in bed since. It’s like he’s shut down.’ She shrugged and shook her head as a tear escaped down her cheek.
‘What do you mean shut down?’
‘He hardly eats, hardly speaks.’ Laurel picked at the skin on the side of her thumb and swallowed against the grain of a lie. Nico did speak every now and again, but he never had anything nice to say. ‘I think he blames me.’
‘Why on earth would he blame you? You’re not the one who borrowed money and couldn’t pay it back.’
Laurel looked at her brother. The muscles in his jaw flexed as he took in the empty room, his eyes skipping over the emptiness of it all. His eyebrows were scrunched together and his eyes flashed with an anger she’d never seen before.
‘I live here too, George. He paid for my course, and my camera. They weren’t cheap.’
‘Maybe not, but I’ll bet they were a drop in a bloody five thousand pound ocean,’ he replied with a stern voice. ‘I should go in there and drag him out of bed.’
‘George, don’t,’ Laurel pleaded, putting her hand on his knee. ‘Things are bad enough as it is...it’ll only make it worse.’
‘Why didn’t you say something? I can’t believe he’s left you to do this alone. How’ve you been managing?’
‘I’ve been making things stretch. I had a little in my savings account.’ Laurel tried to smile, but her lips wouldn’t comply and instead, her face crumpled as she finally gave into more tears.
‘Oh, Lorie.’ George shuffled closer to her on the floor and wrapped her in a hug. ‘It’s going to be alright.’
She wanted to believe him, but she couldn’t see how. They really had nothing, not even enough for a packet of cheap biscuits. Laurel let her brother hold her and cried even more than before.
When Laurel closed the bedroom door behind her later that night, she stared at the outline of Nico lying on the mattress. Her eyes were sore and red, but her belly was full and for the first time in weeks, she felt a glimmer of relief. Talking to George had released a pile of pressure she hadn’t known was there. Nobody else knew what had happened. Nobody apart from their neighbours who’d seen their belongings being unceremoniously carted away, that is. She hadn’t realised how lonely she’d been until George turned up. They’d nipped out to the Chinese takeaway and eaten in an emotionally exhausted but comfortable silence. She’d made the living room floor as comfortable as possible for George, lining it with blankets and towels before reluctantly coming to bed.
Laurel crept across the bedroom floor and lay down on the mattress. Without a bed frame it soaked up all the coldness from the floor and she longed for warmth. She turned her head to look at Nico. Despite the way he’d been lately, she still wished he’d turn around and wrap his body around hers.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to eat?’ she asked quietly. ‘We’ve left you some.’
‘It’s almost midnight. Why would I want to eat this late? Are you stupid or what?’
His voice was flat and mean, and it cut right into her. What was happening with him? When had she turned into someone he hated, instead of someone he loved?
‘Thanks for even bothering to ask if he can stay here,’ he added. ‘It’s only my flat, after all.’
He huffed and inched further away from her, taking the covers with him. A ball of tears wedged itself right in the middle of Laurel’s throat and expanded with every breath. She wished she could reach right in, grab it and pulverise it on the floor. It had been two weeks and three days since he’d been like this, and she didn’t know how much more she could take.
Who was this man lying next to her? Why was he punishing her like this was all her fault? Like she was the one who’d put them here? Didn’t he realise that it had affected her, too? Didn’t he care that he’d left her to deal with the aftermath all alone?
Footsteps echoed through the ceiling as someone crossed the room upstairs. Without any furniture the sound carried and she could hear everything going on around them. Laurel lay perfectly still, willing herself not to cry. Nico was perfectly silent next to her, but his presence felt just as strong as ever, if not more than it ever had.
Laurel squeezed her eyes shut. Where was the joking, charming man she’d met? The man who’d picked her up at two in the morning to go follow the moon and whisked her away to London? She missed him. So much. She even missed the man who’d sat on the wall of the roof, trying to get her to push her creativity. But this? She didn’t know this version of him, and she didn’t like it. Laurel turned onto her side and kept her eyes firmly shut. She’d never felt more alone.
*
The following month, Laurel woke up to a morning like all the others so far that year. The seventeenth of February seemed to be following the pattern of the days before it - overcast, cold and ringing in with the screams of the baby next door. Weeks of sleeping on a rubbish mattress with no bedframe meant that, before she’d even opened her eyes, a dull ache throbbed in the middle of her back. Her eyelids felt like they were weighed down with anchors and all she wanted was to fall back asleep and go back to her dreams, where she was happy and Nico hadn’t become the world’s most miserable man. She sighed as she opened her eyes and threw the cover back, which was when she realised that Nico wasn’t lying next to her.
Laurel frowned, pulled on her dressing gown and padded across the cold floor into the hallway. The kitchen was empty but when she poked her head around the living room door, she saw him, sitting on the sofa cushion. It was the first time he’d been anywhere but the bedroom for almost a month. His eyes were closed but there was something about him that made him look a little bit more like Nico. His mouth wasn’t set into the downward slope it had been stuck in and something about him just seemed different. It was as if someone had stuck a pump into him and inflated him with some life.
He opened his eyes and turned his head. It was the first time he’d looked at her properly in weeks and his brown irises didn’t look so dull.
‘Hi,’ he said.
It was only one word but it was said in a voice without the contempt and loathing she’d become used to. It sounded like Nico.
‘Hi,’ she croaked back.
Relief flooded her so hard that she could barely breathe. Maybe he was finally coming out from the black cloud he’d been under. Laurel went to step further into the living room but quickly stopped herself. He’d said so many mean things lately. She couldn’t just erase them from her mind, especially when she didn’t know what had caused them in the first place. She waited to see if he said anything else, but he didn’t. Still, it was enough, and not a moment too soon.
Laurel winced at the ache in her back and went to the bathroom. It was going to be okay, wasn’t it? He’d got out of bed for the first time in weeks. He’d said hi. He hadn’t looked at her like she was the devil. It was going to be okay, it had to be. She stood in the tiny bathroom with her back pressed against the door and looked at the laundry basket.
Yesterday, she’d stuffed a pregnancy test wrapped in a bundle of tissues right at the bottom of it under the pile of clothes. Was that what had brought Nico round? Had he somehow picked up on the changes in her, despite his catatonic state? Maybe he’d seen the roundness of her breasts or maybe she’d unknowingly snuggled him during the night and he’d felt the unfami
liar hardness of her belly. Laurel tried to picture how he’d react when she told him she was pregnant. Would he be happy and go back to the way he used to be? Or would it send him straight back to bed, depressed? Would he feel trapped? She wouldn’t blame him if he did, because that was exactly how she felt herself.
Laurel put a hand over her belly and closed her eyes. Until yesterday, she’d have been free to leave, to go and move in with George like he’d offered. It wasn’t an option anymore. Now, everything had changed.
SEPH
Twenty
‘So, what do you think?’ Seph tilted her head to one side and looked at Janice.
It had taken countless sleepless nights and barricading herself in her studio for hours at a time, not to mention intense cramping in her right hand, but she’d finished the series. With the exhibition just under three weeks away, she’d finally let Janice through the door to see it.
‘They’re so monochrome,’ Janice said. ‘Completely different to your usual explosion of colour.’
Dressed in a black knee-length dress, black skyscraper heels and matching Botegga Veneta bag, Janice looked pretty monochrome herself. It was a look that usually said she meant business and, for someone so tiny, she cut a formidable figure.
‘They’re great though, aren’t they?’ Seph prompted, unfazed by her mentor’s cut-throat, corporate look. This series might be less colourful than the ones before it, but she knew it would be a hit.
The side of Janice’s mouth twitched a little before pulling up into a smile. ‘Yes, they are.’
Seph nodded and folded her arms, tucking her hands under her armpits. ‘And right on time, too, just like I promised.’
‘Where are the ones that didn’t cut it?’
‘There aren’t any. Turns out they weren’t so bad after all.’
Janice laughed a little and shook her head. ‘It’s never boring with you, Seph, I’ll give you that.’ She turned back to the canvases and began slowly walking around the studio, inspecting every painting again before stopping in front of the largest piece. ‘The tension in them is incredible.’
Seph stared at it too. It was hard to believe she’d ever hated it. The blue on black had seemed so dark and ominous before. Depressing, even. But now, all she saw was life. It had energy and noise and feeling. It might even be her favourite piece.
Janice turned to give her a satisfied smile. ‘I’ll arrange collection this weekend. You really had me worried there, Seph. This is damned close to the wire.’
‘Close, but on time.’ Seph winked. ‘You know me. I never let you down.’
‘Yes. Quite.’ Janice replied, raising her eyebrows. ‘So what changed?’
Seph fished her box of cigarettes from her jeans pocket and walked over to the window. It was a difficult question to answer. Did it even matter now? Things had turned around, surely that was enough? Still, she searched her mind for a response.
‘I suppose I decided to stop being so hard on myself,’ Seph eventually replied. She blew onto the end of her cigarette, making its amber tip glow. ‘I did what you told me to do and channelled it all.’
‘Well next time I’ll write it on a Post-it note and you can save us all the heart palpitations,’ Janice said dryly.
Seph laughed. ‘Nice idea.’
It was amazing the difference a few days made. Since meeting up with Nico the second time, life had got easier and easier. She remembered the clouds parting while they’d sat outside the gelato shop. It had been almost biblical, the way the sun had streamed its rays onto her face. It felt like more than just molecules of Vitamin D penetrating her skin. It had felt like inspiration and creativity, the return of her self-esteem. The return of her self. She’d realised that she was being silly, writing off endless hours of work just because her paintings hadn’t fitted in with some weird idea of how they should’ve been. It was like a load had been taken from her shoulders and she’d made her way home feeling like the ground was as soft as a marshmallow under her feet.
It wasn’t just work stress that had been lifted. The argument with Ben suddenly seemed pointless – completely and utterly stupid. It made such little sense that she couldn’t even pinpoint exactly what it was they’d argued about. She hadn’t wanted to. Life was too short to hold onto bad feelings. When she’d got home, she’d surprised Ben with a kiss hello and asked him about his day. They hadn’t spoken about it since and as far as she was concerned, there was no need to. Her confidence was back and now she could say, Clara who?
‘We need to get your press release locked down,’ Janice said, pulling Seph’s mind back into the room.
Seph crushed her cigarette out in the overflowing ashtray and grimaced. She hated writing her artist statement. How could anybody summarise their work into two paragraphs?
‘Actually, if you’ve got time there’s some stuff I need to update you on anyway,’ Seph said. ‘It’ll give you some backstory on the series.’
She pulled another cigarette from the box, lit it, and began telling Janice about Nico. She started right at the beginning on the day she got back from France and read his email, and went right up until she’d sat watching the gelato meld and melt into itself a few days ago. Forty minutes and a pack of Marlboro’s later, she raised her eyebrows and lifted her hands up.
‘And there you have it. That’s been my life for the last few weeks.’ She shook the empty box of cigarettes before frowning and scrunching it up.
‘It sounds like you’ve had a pretty tough time, Seph’ Janice replied. The skin between her eyebrows creased with concern. ‘Why didn’t you say something sooner?’
‘There was no need to.’ Seph shrugged.
‘With an upcoming exhibition it’s a lot of stress for anyone to carry. It would have been perfectly understandable to postpone.’
Seph held down a sigh. Why did everyone keep banging on about stress and the burden of it all the time? ‘I’m fine.’
‘This is me you’re talking to.’
‘Honestly, I am. Yes, it’s been testing but everything’s good now. Great, in fact.’ She smiled. ‘It’s worked out pretty well. Nico’s great, we’re really alike in some ways - we have the same taste in food and music and stuff. And we look alike too. It’s kind of cool that he’s around.’
It could have been much worse. They might have had nothing at all to say to each other, or clashed and rubbed each other the wrong way.
‘I’m glad it’s worked out, Seph, but if anything this major ever happens again and coincides with an exhibition, you’ve got to tell me,’ Janice said. ‘In fact, I think I’ll make it a contractual obligation.’
Seph rolled her eyes playfully. ‘I’m fine. I wouldn’t have been able to get those paintings done if I weren’t, would I? I can handle it. This is what artists do, right?’
Janice didn’t look convinced.
‘Come on, you’ve got to admit, it’s been a great inspiration for my work. I mean, imagine how boring the series would’ve been without all this.’ Seph grinned, filled with enthusiasm. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying I’d wish for it all to happen again. I’m just saying that it’s all worked out in the end.’
‘I want to invite Nico to the exhibition,’ Seph said.
‘Really? Won’t your parents be there?’
‘Yeah, but they’ve got to learn to get along sooner or later. It’s the perfect way to draw a line in the sand.’
‘If you want my honest opinion, I think it’s asking for trouble.’
Seph tilted her head to one side and raised her eyebrow in response.
‘Fine, fine. It’s your exhibition and he is your dad,’ Janice conceded with a sigh. ‘Just make sure there’s no drama.’
‘There won’t be,’ Seph promised. How could there be?
Happiness welled in her chest like a bright ball of light. She sparkled with it, with creativity and a promise of good things. Nothing could possibly go wrong.
After saying goodbye to Janice, Seph rushed to the bathroom. The
urge to get out of the house and experience life again was too strong to ignore, but she needed to clean herself up first. With the little digital radio on the sink blasting out music, Seph stood under the shower, singing along as her favourite songs played one after the other. Clouds of steam billowed around her as she scrubbed herself clean. Hot water pounded against her back and shoulders, beating all the little knots that had built up over the last few weeks into submission. She washed her hair for the first time in ages and treated it to a lengthy conditioning treatment. After trimming her nails and plucking her eyebrows, Seph stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes sparkled, her skin glowed. Finally, she was human again.
Seph padded into the bedroom and pulled open her underwear drawer. Everything in it looked so worn and functional and boring. She rifled through it. Didn’t she have anything nice? Something to match how she was feeling inside? She slammed the drawer shut, blowing out a puff of air. She’d read somewhere once that every woman needed at least one good set of lingerie but it had never really been her thing. She sat on the edge of the bed, picking up her phone. She deserved a treat after handing over her series, didn’t she?
After a quick Google search, Seph scrolled through Coco de Mer’s website. Excitement pulled at her belly with every flick of her thumb against the screen. Jewellery, masks, robes and fancy bras. They all looked so gorgeous and classy and exactly what she needed. The shop was in central London. She could be there in under an hour.
Seph jumped up from the bed and pulled on a vest and pair of shorts, her fingers fumbling over the zip with adrenaline. She grabbed her purse, keys and Oyster card, and slung them into her bag. Warm air greeted her as she left the warehouse – not too hot or sticky – a perfect day for spontaneous shopping. Seph walked quickly to the station. A train pulled in just as she’d made it down the stairs and onto the platform. For once, it was almost empty and she had the pick of seats. Changing lines at King’s Cross was effortless and quick. Everyone around her smiled, replacing the usual blasé indifference London was so famous for. Maybe they could feel the happiness in her chest, that sparkly feeling that had helped her to see straight, because she was sure they were smiling at her. She smiled back at each and every one of them as the Tube sped towards Covent Garden, a place she’d avoided for years but was now heading towards for the third time in as many weeks. Anticipation mounted with every station they passed as she imagined what she would try on, what she would buy, how it would feel to wear something so beautiful.
What Goes Down: An emotional must-read of love, loss and second chances Page 21
