He looked unbearably sad. ‘The awful thing is, they sometimes say, “Let them have a final bender. That’s when they’ll hit rock bottom. That’s when they’ll really become willing.” But they don’t mention what to do if the person in question falls off a fucking roof.’ Julian’s eyes swelled with tears. ‘They didn’t tell me that could happen.’
For a moment we sat in silence, indulging the what-ifs and might-have-beens that we both knew to be pointless. ‘It wasn’t your fault, Julian,’ I said. ‘You said it yourself. She couldn’t even get through a party without those filthy bloody drugs.’
‘No,’ Julian agreed sadly. ‘But the real tragedy in all of this is that she wasn’t even that fucked. She never lost it completely. She was manageable, still just about getting on with her life. She could still have made it as a principal ballerina.’
‘Really? She seemed pretty messed up to me.’
Julian nodded. ‘Trust me, it can get so much worse. If she’d really lost it she’d have been stealing, off her face most of the time, lying all day long, and she’d have got into more serious stuff than coke. Make no mistake, she was in a bad way, but she wasn’t a dead loss. Far from it.’ Then he laughed. ‘Actually, it’s not at all funny, but she did steal my phone.’
‘She what?’
‘Yeah! The night we met – remember I thought I’d left it in the taxi? Turns out Fiona had nicked it. Raúl texted me and my phone went off in her handbag, and he was like, what the fuck?’
‘Are you serious? She stole your phone?’
He laughed again. ‘She did, and she had no idea what to do with it. I had to laugh when I found out. Although Raúl didn’t find it funny at all.’
‘Is that why he dumped her?’
Julian hugged his knees. In spite of myself I caught sight of the monkey T-shirt and smiled.
‘Yeah. Raúl was right there with me throughout the whole thing with Catherine and I guess he just got super-sensitive. He cut his losses and ran before he fell for her.’
Once again I was knifed by sadness. Fiona could have found real love. She could have got clean. She could have –
I looked at my lap. I was bowled over by what Julian had told me. By his generosity, by his courage, by his understanding of Fiona’s fragile state of mind. But there were still unanswered questions. Why that wrap of coke had been passing between them. Why she had said he’d been selling drugs to her. And – above all – why he’d done a runner when she fell off the roof.
‘So, there’s a few grey areas,’ I said guardedly.
‘There are. First, I’m a tosser. Bea accused me of selling the drugs. And Fiona agreed with her. And I … Ah, shit, it was so dumb of me. I just went along with it, because I thought it’d be the final straw for Fiona if I called her a liar in front of everyone. Catherine used to lie all the time, and when I challenged her, she’d go completely mental. I was going to tell you the truth as soon as we were alone.’
‘But why did you put the coke in your pocket?’
‘Because I’d finally persuaded her to hand it over. But then she picked a fight with you and wanted it back.’ In spite of the agony of talking about that night, I felt a growing warmth inside. It hadn’t been Julian. He hadn’t dealt her drugs. He hadn’t killed her. Of course he hadn’t! He was the love of my life!
‘So … who sold her the drugs? Where was she getting it all from?’
Julian looked at his hands. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said, ‘but, well, it was Bea.’
Everything swayed, including me.
‘Breathe, Sally!’ Julian said, half frightened. ‘Are you OK?’ He peered into my face. ‘I’m sorry to just break it to you … Ah, shit, how else was I going to tell you? It was Bea.’
‘Bea?’
‘Sally? Sally?’ Julian had shuffled forward and grabbed my shoulders.
Momentarily I allowed myself to loll sideways on to his arm. I felt his lovely warmth spread into me and smelt his lovely Julian smell and felt so lost I could hardly bear it. With a dizzying effort, I pulled myself upright.
‘I’m OK,’ I whispered. ‘Just … Bea?’
‘’Fraid so. She was nothing like Fiona, obviously. She just took coke for fun. But apparently she’d been selling it to Fiona for years.’
Of course, I thought weakly. Of course. Bea had all but disappeared from our lives; she’d run off to Glyndebourne and neither Barry nor I had managed to get a peep out of her in months.
‘The traitorous bitch,’ I said. ‘She didn’t need to sell drugs to Fiona, she was stinking rich! Fuck! How could she?’
Julian laughed, slightly to my surprise. ‘Ahem. Sorry. I’ve just never heard you say “fuck” before.’
‘I – I’ll kill her,’ I whispered furiously. ‘She’s loaded! She knew how worried I was! She – oh, my God!’ I gazed at him, appalled.
‘From what I gather Bea just sold Fiona some grams here and there. But by the time Fiona died she would have been getting it from all over the shop, certainly not just Bea.’
‘But she blamed you,’ I said. ‘Bea told me she was suspicious about you having nice clothes and money and – and an apartment on Mulberry.’
Julian smiled wistfully. ‘Yeah. That was quite clever of her, really. I think she’d begun to realize she had a minor role in it all and was panicking.’
‘Why are you defending her?’ I was incredulous. ‘I blamed you for Fiona’s death! I treated you like absolute shit! I cut off all contact! I – oh, my God. When it was her fault!’
Julian watched me. ‘No, it wasn’t,’ he said.
And, like he always had done, he took the wind out of my sails.
He moved back to his side of the wardrobe, putting both of his warm socked feet on top of my cold bare ones. ‘It wasn’t her fault,’ he repeated.
There was a long silence.
‘I suppose not,’ I said eventually. ‘Fi would’ve got it from somewhere. But … but I’ve spent all this time thinking you were the devil when you were actually a saint. I can’t stand it. I could have … We could have …’
‘Sssh. We couldn’t have stayed together. You were insane with grief. And so was I. We needed to be apart.’
‘But not with me hating and blaming you! Why didn’t you insist on telling me?’
‘Because I wanted to protect you,’ he said softly. ‘I didn’t think you’d be able to cope with the truth. Bea was one of your best buddies, wasn’t she?’
I nodded mutely as my brain turned over the events of that awful night, trying out this new information. ‘You didn’t do a runner, did you?’ I said.
Julian shook his head. The light from my bedside lamp spilled warmly on to the side of his face and for a second I could see each little hair on his cheek; each precious little –
STOP IT.
I looked at his eyes again. ‘You’d gone looking for me.’
He nodded. ‘I had to find you,’ he said simply. ‘I couldn’t let you come back and find her there in the road. I was running around Brooklyn like a psycho, crying and yelling your name. It was stupid. I was just desperate. I wanted to keep you from the pain, because I know how it feels. I wanted to protect you –’ He broke off, crying.
After a while he spoke. ‘Sally, I will regret for the rest of my life that you got back to the hotel and found out the way you did.’
I leaned forward and took his hand. ‘Hey,’ I said quietly, ‘you have nothing to feel bad about. Nothing. Do you understand?’ It felt desperately important that he got this, that he realized what a kind, good man he was. That it should have been me begging him for forgiveness.
‘Bleugh.’ A tear fell down his cheek on to the monkey T-shirt.
‘No. Not bleugh. You’ve been so good to me and I’ve treated you like you were a monster. I’ll never be able to put into words how grateful I am for what you did.’ I stroked his hair for a second, then drew my hand away. It wasn’t safe.
I handed him Carrot instead. ‘Have a hug with Carrot. He’s good for momen
ts like these.’
Julian took him, a smile emerging. ‘Hello, Carrot,’ he said, balancing my ancient teddy on his knees. ‘It’s good to meet you at last.’
‘Try a hug,’ I urged. ‘He’s fantastic for that kind of stuff.’
‘I’d rather have a hug from you,’ Julian said.
Momentarily, I paused, weighing up the danger. There were a lot of feelings in me just then. I ignored them and shuffled forward to hug him.
But while the wardrobe was a good space for one, it didn’t have room to accommodate hugs between two full-sized adults. Realizing I was at risk of sprawling on to him, Julian took my hand and guided me round so I had my back to him. He sat me between his legs, slid his arms round my tummy and held me tightly, his face buried in my hair.
‘Did you ever really, honestly believe it was my fault?’
‘No,’ I admitted. ‘Although I didn’t know that until today.’
I felt him nod, and melt deeper into my hair.
It felt so good to be wrapped up in him that I hardly dared breathe. What are you doing? my head shouted. You have a boyfriend! GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE! I closed my eyes and shut the voice out, enjoying Julian’s size and shape. That perfect tessellation of bodies I’d missed so much.
After what felt like nowhere near enough time, Julian shifted. ‘I think we should probably get out of the wardrobe,’ he said softly.
I clamped my hands over his arms as they prepared to release me. ‘No. I want to stay here.’
Julian laughed quietly. ‘I know you do. But I’ve got to get home cos my mom’s just about to land at Heathrow.’
‘Oh! Stevie! Wow!’
I felt Julian smile behind me. A big, lazy, lovely smile. ‘Yep. Mrs Bell is in da house.’
There was a silence as we both thought about Julian’s brilliant mother.
‘How are you feeling after Stourbridge?’ Julian asked tentatively. ‘Have you been thinking about your own folks?’
‘Constantly.’
‘And?’
I bit my lip. A thousand thoughts were dancing around in my mind. ‘And I don’t know. I need more time to think.’
Julian said nothing.
‘It’s all very well for Mum to say, “Oh, no, of course we don’t blame you!” when there’s guests there,’ I continued. ‘But they hadn’t called me, Julian. Not in a year. I nearly died of grief and they … Nothing. Always nothing. Since I was tiny.’
‘I know,’ Julian said sympathetically. ‘I know how hard it’s been.’
I breathed out, more confused than ever. There was so much about my parents’ conduct that I didn’t understand. So much anger balled up inside me, liable to explode at the slightest provocation.
But something had changed in Stourbridge. A door had been opened, just a tiny crack, but opened all the same. Whether I walked through it or not was quite another matter, but I knew it was there. And that would have to be enough for now.
‘When’s your mum arriving?’ I asked.
I could feel Julian smiling again. ‘Soon. I should get going. But, Sally – and I say this with absolute respect for all you’ve been through – I think it’s time you got out of this wardrobe. For good.’
I listened.
‘I know it’s kept you safe since you were little but, Sal, you are safe out there in the world. And I think you’re beginning to know that.’
I shrugged nervously.
‘No, don’t shrug. I’m serious. There’s a new chapter of your life in progress. One that doesn’t involve Fiona, or wardrobes, or hiding of any sort.’
‘My life will always involve Fiona.’
‘Of course. But you still have to let her go.’
‘But this is all for her! This singing and college and … stuff …’
Julian shook his head. ‘It was for her. And it’s wonderful that you’re going to make it as a singer, even though she couldn’t make it as a dancer. But it’s time you started doing it for you. Let go of Fiona. Let her rest. And start out again for Sally Howlett. Because she’s still alive, she’s being brave and awesome and, above all, she’s really precious. She deserves to be out there in the open.’
I felt my lip wobble childishly. ‘But I’m not ready …’ I whispered. She’s been like my coach. My friend. My advisor.’
Julian stroked my arm with his thumb. ‘You’re so much stronger than you realize.’
Carefully, he slid sideways out of the wardrobe. Once out he knelt down in the doorway, holding my hand. ‘I know how this feels,’ he said. ‘But it gets easier once you let them go.’
‘I’m afraid.’
Julian smiled. ‘There’s nothing to be afraid of out here,’ he said. ‘You can do it, Sal. I believe in you.’
Never taking my eyes off his, I uncurled my legs and – slowly, ever so slowly – I got out of my wardrobe, somehow knowing that this was the last time.
Scene Twenty-three
Today has to be very calm, I reflected, as I drifted into college the next morning. The law of averages says so. I’d had enough drama in the last forty-eight hours to last me the rest of my life; today would be a millpond.
It was not.
‘Sit down,’ Brian said pleasantly, when I walked into my singing lesson. ‘I brought you some tea. And a Twix for us to share. It’s – oh.’ He pulled a warm, misshapen Twix out of his pocket and stared at it sadly. ‘It’s ruined.’
‘It most certainly is not!’ I replied spiritedly. ‘Open it right now! And then tell me what’s going on.’
‘Hmm?’
‘Come off it, Brian. Something’s going on if you’re feeding me rather than teaching me.’
‘Ah,’ he admitted. ‘Ah, yes.’
How I loved Brian.
We sat by the piano, dunking our chocolate fingers into Brian’s tea, and I waited for him to break his news. To my surprise, I found I wasn’t actually nervous at all. Since Julian had left last night I’d been filled with hope, an emergent, fragile sort of hope; a feeling that maybe I could start a life free of guilt or fear. That I could do this course for me, while never forgetting my beautiful Freckle.
‘Now, Sally Howlett, there are two things I want to talk to you about. First, Peter Ingle has heard fantastic things about your work in Stourbridge. I think you’ve really impressed him, young lady.’
‘With my common touch, you mean?’
‘Aye,’ Brian agreed, in his best Huddersfield accent. ‘He likes us rough folk. Anyway, he’s invited you to sing at some big do in Mayfair.’
‘Oh.’
Brian tapped his fingers together, watching me. ‘And he’s paying you five thousand pounds.’
I nearly threw up my chocolate. ‘WHAT?’
Brian started chuckling. ‘I think that’s his way of giving you an extra boost. A little bit higher than the standard fee, as I’m sure you’ll appreciate.’
‘I can’t take that sort of money!’
Brian grinned. ‘You most certainly can, my girl,’ he said firmly. ‘I’ve known Peter since we were spotty youths, and if I know anything it’s that he wants you to have this. He thinks you’re brilliant.’
‘Brian, I’m from Stourbridge! I’m not a starving peasant! He can’t do that!’
‘Sally, be quiet.’ Brian smiled. ‘Peter could fart five thousand pounds out in his sleep.’
‘Shit!’ I breathed. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Quite sure. Jan will be performing alongside you. It seems Peter’s taken to the boy too …’
‘Good. Cos Jan was brilliant.’
Brian’s brow knitted. ‘There is one thing, though. You’ll need to wear a performance dress. And I suspect that’s something you don’t own, my dear.’
He was right. Unlike my coursemates I did not possess one of those long, satiny monstrosities that opera singers insisted on wearing for concert performances. But with all of this positive energy bubbling around in me, I didn’t care. I had five grand to spare!
‘I’ll go and buy one! I used to be
a wardrobe mistress, Brian, it’s about time I learned how to dress myself!’
Brian shook his head. ‘Your transformation really is remarkable.’ He folded his arms across his chest, watching me. ‘Your musicianship lessons are coming along in leaps and bounds, I hear, you’re reading music quite confidently now … you’re singing out of the wardrobe and look at you! You’re accepting offers to sing in concerts! It’s really quite unbelievable!’
He cocked his head to one side. ‘What do you think did it, Sally? What do you think has brought you out of yourself so beautifully?’
I wanted to say that it was Fiona, and Brian, and even Julian, to a certain extent. But I had begun to realize that someone else was involved, a lot more heavily than I’d known.
‘It was me,’ I said, after a long pause. ‘I changed myself.’
Brian looked a bit misty in the eye area. He nodded his agreement, a proud, dad-like gesture that made me want to cry.
‘The second thing I wanted to tell you was …’ he took his glasses off and polished them on the corner of his shirt ‘… we want to cast you as Mimi in next term’s production of La Bohème. But it was agreed that we would ask you first, because we know how hard you find it to sing in public. We don’t want to give you something that feels too much, too soon.’
I gaped at him. My favourite opera in the universe. The role I had secretly dreamed of singing since I was a little girl. Not to mention the duet I’d sung in the poetry café with Julian.
‘We plan to cast Jan as Rodolfo,’ Brian continued, ‘Hussein as Marcello and Helen as Musetta. So you’ll have your gang around you.’
Still I said nothing. As much as I wanted it, was it not a bit more than I could handle?
Then I felt my heart beating slowly and steadily in my chest, my hands cool and still in my lap, and knew that – just as Julian had said last night – I was far stronger than I’d ever realized.
‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘I’d love to play Mimi. Thank you, Brian.’
In the canteen I sat with Helen at an otherwise deserted Singers’ Table. I told her we were playing the leads in La Bohème. We sat opposite each other, saying nothing other than ‘Shit. Oh, my God. Arggh. Bollocks. Fuck! What the Jiminy Cricket? Shit.’
The Unfinished Symphony of You and Me Page 30
