Revelry

by Lucy Lord

  ‘Did you really love him that much?’ I ask, remembering how much I thought I did.

  ‘No, I realized ages ago what a complete knobber he is.’ She’s struggling to get the words out.

  ‘Complete knobber just about sums him up.’

  She tries to grin the old Poppy grin, then stops, looking serious.

  ‘After he went, I just sat there thinking about what I’d done, to you AND Damian, my two favourite people. For fuck’s sake, Bella, remember “frolics and friendship forever”?’

  I laugh tearfully, remembering our teenage chant all too well.

  ‘Frolics and friendship forever. Yup. But don’t worry now, lovely. You’re OK and that’s the main thing. Fucking men. Didn’t we always say we’d never let the X-chromosomally challenged get between us?’

  Poppy laughs, holding her stomach.

  ‘Ow-y-ow-y-ow that hurts.’

  ‘If it’s any consolation, I feel like shit too. Hangover from hell. Can I get in with you? – it looks awfully comfy in there.’

  Poppy laughs again, weakly pushing back the sheet.

  ‘Just kidding, you silly arse.’ I lean over and kiss her pale forehead. She seems to perk up slightly and says,

  ‘Talking of the X-chromosomally challenged, have you seen anything of Damian recently? I hope he’s all right …’

  I decide not to share the memory of snogging him among the debris on my sitting-room floor.

  ‘… I can’t imagine he will ever forgive me, but please do tell him I’m sorry.’

  ‘Actually you can tell him yourself – he’s here.’

  Her pale face lights up. ‘Really?’

  ‘Really,’ I smile. ‘He still loves you, even though you’re a contemptible cunt. Shall I go and get him?’ She nods, hope flickering in her eyes, and I make my way back out into the corridor.

  Mum is chatting to one of the nurses. I imagine Diana’s outside, having a fag. She’s always been a guilty smoker – I remember her hiding her cigarettes from herself when Poppy and I were kids, then clambering on kitchen stools, trying to remember where she’d put them. She spent an hour with Poppy earlier, holding her hand as she drifted in and out of consciousness, but once Pops was fully awake she insisted on seeing me. And even lying in a hospital bed with tubes coming out of her nose, Poppy’s will is a force to be reckoned with.

  ‘Darling, how is she?’

  ‘She’s OK. Very very sorry for everything she’s done but still showing some of the old fighting spirit. She wants to see Damian. Is he in the loo?’

  Mum looks anxious. ‘Darling, he’s gone.’

  ‘Gone? Where?’

  ‘Once he found out she was going to be OK, he went. He looked really angry, actually. He was calling her an attention-seeking little bitch.’ She delivers the last bit sotto voce.

  ‘Oh fuck.’ This scenario hadn’t even crossed my mind. ‘What am I going to tell her?’

  ‘Just say he had to go. She doesn’t need to know the truth quite yet.’

  ‘OK. Thanks Mum. For everything.’ I kiss her.

  Poppy’s face falls as I re-enter the room alone, though she tries to hide it.

  ‘Damian had to go. Deadline,’ I lie brightly.

  ‘Bollocks. He can’t bring himself to see me, now he knows I’m all right, can he? It’s OK, Belles, I lived with him for five years, I know how the stubborn bugger’s mind works.’

  ‘I’m sure he’ll come round in the end …’

  ‘I wouldn’t blame him if he never wanted to see me again. He gave up every bloody weekend to come and see Dad with me. Every bloody weekend. Ben wouldn’t come with me once. And this is how I repay him. And you … My best friend ever … What kind of bitch am I …?’ She is struggling to speak again, weak, white and poorly on her horribly remedial-looking bed.

  ‘You need some rest, young lady,’ says the nurse who’s just walked into the room, approaching said bed with a cup of tea. She plumps up her pillows and smiles at her. ‘You’ve given everyone a nasty shock.’

  ‘I’ll come and see you again tomorrow.’ I kiss her bloodless cheek. ‘Night night.’

  ‘You don’t have to, you know, but I’d love it if you did,’ she replies, kissing me back.

  ‘Oh I’ll be back all right. I want some answers, and you’ve got some serious explaining to do. Young lady.’

  ‘All I want to know is why. And how long it had been going on before I caught you.’

  ‘That day you caught us was the first time, I promise.’ Poppy looks a lot more like her old self today. There’s some colour in her cheeks and they’ve taken the tubes out of her nose, thank God, though she’s still on a drip. ‘And maybe, if you hadn’t caught us, it might have been the last time.’

  ‘Really?’ I ask, sceptically.

  ‘Actually no, it probably wouldn’t have been the last time, but it was the first. You’ve got to believe me, Belles.’

  ‘So how did you set it up? Ben was meant to be in New York. YOU were meant to be at Babington House, for fuck’s sake!’ I almost shout, angry again now that she’s OK and the extent of their betrayal is coming back to me.

  ‘Ben called me the Wednesday before. He said he thought things were moving too fast between you two and he needed someone to talk to about it …’

  ‘WHAT? The little shit. HE asked to move in with ME. He kept telling me how much he loved me. I wasted hours helping him learn his boring fucking lines. He’s a useless ham anyway; he’s only got one cunting facial expression for grief …’

  Poppy furrows her brow in an exact impersonation of Ben’s grief face. It’s funny, but I’m too furious to laugh.

  ‘He … he … he …’ I am lost for words, remembering with renewed rage all the faithless turd’s empty promises. I may not be sad any more, but that doesn’t stop me being livid at his duplicity.

  ‘He said he’d spun you some line about going to the Big Apple for the weekend, he knew Damian was going away for Adam’s stag do, so was it OK if he crashed in Hoxton with me on Saturday night.’

  ‘And you said yes? You fucking bitch! You must have known what he was after.’ Poppy can’t look at me. Eventually she says, in a very small voice,

  ‘I knew what he was after. He’d been flirting with me for ages, whenever you were out of the room, and I’d been getting off on it. As I said, I’m a contemptible cunt.’

  She sees the look on my face and adds, ‘Though I did try to stop seeing you both for a bit. I reckoned it would be better to put some distance between us all.’ She takes a deep breath, which clearly hurts. ‘I was bored. I’ve been with Damian for five years.’

  I raise my eyebrows at her and she punches herself in the arm.

  ‘Still thinking in the present tense, silly cow. I was with Damian for five years, my career was going brilliantly and, once I started the new job, I was doing a LOT of coke. Probably getting on for a couple of grams a day.’

  ‘For fuck’s sake, Poppy, you’re a TV producer, not a bloody rock star.’

  ‘I know, I know, Pete Doherty eat your heart out,’ she says, coughing like Mimi in La Bohème. ‘And, much as I don’t want to blame the drugs for my own absence of moral fibre, you kind of stop having normal feelings if you never give yourself a chance to sober up.’ I wonder how she’s going to feel when they take her off the morphine drip.

  ‘So why Ben? I know he’s got a body to die for, and it must have been flattering him flirting with you, but …’ I trail off miserably. ‘I thought you and I meant more than that to each other.’

  ‘That’s the worst thing for me to come to terms with.’ She stares out of the window. ‘I think it was because he was with you. I’ve always been the successful one – straight As, Oxford, effortless achievements, gorgeous blokes, the full fucking Monty. I was really happy for you at first, when you and Ben got together at Glastonbury. But then … I don’t know, he suddenly looked on the verge of A-list stardom, and I was intensely, insanely jealous.’

  I am suddenly angrier than I�
��ve ever been in my life.

  ‘You disgusting, conceited, mean-spirited little bitch,’ I say slowly. ‘Do you have any idea what it’s been like, playing second fucking fiddle to you ever since we were ten? Do you think I actually enjoyed celebrating all your successes when I was only successful at art? And not even that after I left college? Do you really think I never fantasized about any of your gorgeous blokes? Do you think that in a million years I would ever have tried it on with any of them?’

  Poppy shakes her head miserably. Something occurs to me. ‘Actually, now I come to think of it, that wanker you were shagging at Oxford, Luke something or other, tried it on with me one of those nights I came to stay at Christ Church with you. He said you were too skinny for him and he needed a real woman, ha ha. What a bastard, eh? I told him to fuck off, because that’s what friends do. THAT’S WHAT FRIENDS DO, POPPY.’ I am now looming over the bed, shouting into her face.

  A middle-aged nurse bursts through the door.

  ‘What on earth do you think you’re doing? Get out of here, at once.’ She grabs my arm and tries to pull me away, but Poppy stops her, saying,

  ‘No, it’s all right, Jean. Please let her stay. I’ve had this coming a long time.’

  ‘Nobody has any right to shout at you in your condition.’

  ‘Bella has every right to shout at me whenever she wants.’

  ‘I’ll stop shouting,’ I say to the nurse, as I haven’t finished what I have to say yet and I’m buggered if Poppy’s getting off that lightly.

  ‘Just leave us alone for five more minutes, please?’ Poppy says to the nurse. She nods, grudgingly, and walks out, shooting me another dirty look.

  ‘Getting together with Ben was the best thing that had ever happened to me,’ I start, and Poppy gives a little snort.

  ‘Oh just shut the fuck up for once, you arrogant bitch. Yes, I do realize now that it wasn’t the best thing ever, but at the time, my greatest fantasy had come true. Can you imagine, for once in your self-centred life, what it’s like not to be you, not always to get the gorgeous man of your dreams? Can you imagine how it felt for me to walk in on the man of my dreams with my best mate? Two people I loved and who I thought loved me?’

  ‘Oh Belles, I’m so sorry …’ Poppy is gazing up at me, tears running down her pale cheeks.

  ‘And can you imagine how it was made even worse by the fact that he was shagging the person I’d always played second fucking fiddle to? Like of course I was never in his league in the first place? That I cried and cried myself to sleep for weeks on end because of you? Did THAT ever occur to you, when you were coked out of your tiny mind, bored with Damian and jealous of me? Jealous of me …’ I shake my head at such a preposterous notion. ‘If only you knew how many years I’ve battled with myself not to be jealous of you.’ I’m crying too now, almost out of steam.

  ‘Belles, stop it, please,’ Poppy begs me. ‘There was another reason, but I didn’t want to say before.’

  I snort. ‘This had better be good.’

  ‘That weekend before, when Damian and I went to see Dad, he didn’t recognize me. Not for the whole weekend. He had absolutely no idea who I was …’

  ‘Oh …’

  ‘I went on a massive bender. Not the most grown-up way of dealing with it, I know, but there you go. Fuck knows how I managed to wing it at work. That Wednesday that Ben called, I was completely off my tits. I’d said no to meeting up in private so many times before, Belles, you’ve got to believe me. He caught me at a very, very weak moment. I guess I just thought – fuck it, he’s gorgeous, it’s about time I had some fun. No one need ever know. You and Damian were both meant to be away. It was never my intention to hurt either of you, I promise.’

  ‘Oh for Christ’s sake … why didn’t you say so before?’ I recall the endless phone calls and emails and Facebook messages, when all she could say was sorry.

  ‘I didn’t want to use Dad’s illness as an excuse for my shoddy behaviour.’

  ‘Which is exactly what you’re doing now,’ I point out. ‘But I’m really sorry about your dad.’

  ‘Don’t be nice to me, Belles. I think I preferred it when you were shouting at me.’ She tries to get out of bed to approach me but is hindered by the drip.

  Poppy gazes at me some more, so many tears now falling that the front of her hospital gown is soaked.

  ‘Stop crying and get back into bed. I’ll probably get blamed for you catching pneumonia.’

  I go and stare out of the window, trying to decide what to do next. The revelation about her father not recognizing her doesn’t excuse what she did, but it does make it a hell of a lot more understandable. And I do have a grudging respect for her not using it as an excuse until now.

  ‘If it helps, I’ve been bloody miserable pretty much ever since it happened – not that I’m asking for sympathy. None of my friends would speak to me, except for the druggy workmates – you know, Caz and Lucas, all that gang. I’ve been missing you and Damian more than I thought possible. And living with Ben was pretty fucking hellish in the end. His ego is even bigger than mine, if such a thing is possible …’

  ‘So … not all glamorous A-list stuff? I kept seeing you in the papers.’

  ‘Sorry about that too. But you can’t help the bloody paparazzi taking photos. I did hope you’d get a bit of Schadenfreude at the pics of me looking like shit …’

  I try not to smile at this.

  ‘Oh yes, plenty.’

  ‘I tried to call and explain, Belles, I did.’

  ‘Let’s change the subject. I don’t think I can take much more in today.’

  ‘Delighted to.’ Poppy smiles nervously, wiping her sodden face on the arm without a drip in it. ‘OK. Erm … what’s been happening in your life since I’ve been so inconveniently out of the loop? Any gossip?’

  I laugh slightly bitterly. ‘Where do I begin?’

  And over the next hour I fill her in on the last few months’ events. The only thing I leave out is my growing obsession with Andy. I’m not ready to trust her with that quite yet, if ever. It’s great talking to her about everything else, though. She is thrilled about my painting and horrified about Dad’s arrest but determined ‘we won’t let the lanky bitch get away with it’.

  When I tell her about the Stadium party and Mark she makes me feel better, just like she always used to.

  ‘I still don’t understand why you didn’t shag him. But don’t you dare call yourself a despicable slag. Where have your old feminist principles gone? You wouldn’t use those words about anyone else, so don’t use them about yourself.’

  ‘You keep calling yourself a contemptible cunt.’

  ‘That’s a statement of fact. All you did was have a bit of slap and tickle with a fellow unattached grown-up. Nothing wrong with that at all.’ She doesn’t know about Damian and Andy of course, but again she makes me feel better.

  ‘So how did Damian seem?’ she asks, oh so casually. ‘Was he with anyone?’

  ‘Anyone female, you mean? No. It’ll be a long time before he’s interested in anything like that again. You broke his heart.’

  Chapter 19

  ‘I am not going to see her and that is final,’ shouts Damian, banging his fist on the beer-sticky table. We’re in the Coach & Horses in Soho, just around the corner from the Stadium office. A couple of old soaks turn to stare at him. He’s wearing blackout shades again, so I can’t see the expression in his eyes. ‘I don’t know how you can forgive her, Bella, after what she did to us both. You’re too bloody soft, that’s your problem.’ The Welsh lilt is back with a vengeance.

  ‘You were there like a shot when you thought she might die. Anyway, I haven’t forgiven her, but she’s my oldest friend and I missed her. What’s the point in holding on to grudges? Her dad didn’t recognize her, Damian, you of all people should understand how hard that must have hit her.’

  ‘I know exactly how hard it hit her. I was there when it happened, as I was always there for her. And how did she repa
y me? By going on a fucking bender and shagging my best mate.’

  I realize I’d better change tack.

  ‘As far as I’m concerned, she’s sorry, she nearly died, and I really don’t give a fuck about Ben any more.’ Damian looks murderous at the mention of his nemesis. I add hastily, ‘Go on, Damian, would you just consider giving her another chance? I know she regrets it from the bottom of her heart. You two were such a perfect couple.’

  ‘You’re wasting your time so we might as well change the subject.’ He takes a large swig of his pint and starts laughing. ‘I have to say you’re not the fashion department’s favourite person at the moment.’ He starts to chair-dance, sticking out his tongue and making the universal wanking gesture. The old soaks gawp a bit more as I bury my face in my hands.

  ‘Oh fuckety fuck, I was hoping that bit was a dream.’

  ‘Don’t worry, everyone else thinks it was great. Simon and Mark adore you.’

  I am walking towards the number 23 bus stop, trying to decide what to cook for dinner, when my phone rings.

  ‘Maxy? How are you? What’s up?’

  ‘It’s Andy!’ Max is so excited he can barely get the words out. ‘He’s found something out about Kimberly, something that he says is relevant to the case!’

  ‘Oh my God!’ I stop dead in the street.

  ‘Stupid bitch,’ says the man behind me, narrowly avoiding walking into me.

  ‘So what is it? What has he found out? It has nothing to do with cults, has it?’

  Max laughs. ‘He told me to tell you that it has nothing to do with cults. He wants to meet us this evening to show us the evidence. Say you’re free, sis.’

  ‘Are you insane? Of course I’m free. And even if I wasn’t, I’d cancel dinner with Barack Obama to see what he’s got on Kim.’ I’d cancel dinner with Barack Obama just to see Andy again full stop but I don’t tell Max this.

  ‘Divine Comedy at seven thirty?’

  ‘Can’t he make it any earlier? I’ll be there.’

  Max and Andy are sitting at a large wooden table made out of a’n ancient carved Indian door. I try to be cool, sauntering over and not noticing an empty pint glass that someone’s left on the floor. I trip over it and nearly go flying but Andy leaps to his feet and catches me in time.