How Not to Be a Loser

by Beth Moran

  ‘You dirty old pervert.’ Selena’s voice was ice-cold venom. ‘If you touch my daughter again, I will personally slice off your disgusting, droopy old—’

  ‘MUM!’ Audrey shouted. ‘Why do you never listen to me? Graham and I are in love. He’s asked me to move in with him.’

  ‘You do know he’ll be dead before you’re thirty?’

  ‘That’s all the more reason to make the most of the time we have now.’

  ‘Is that what he told you?’ Selena took in a huge breath, scraped the punch-soaked tangles of hair back from her face. ‘Did he also tell you that none of the other women counted, the only reason he’s slept with half the village is because all these decades he was searching for you, his true soulmate, whose inner beauty is enough to make the years between you meaningless?’

  ‘Selena,’ Graham warned. ‘Don’t say something you’ll later regret.’

  ‘If you don’t stop talking, I’m going to punch you in the face,’ Selena replied, coolly. ‘And I promise I won’t regret it; I’ve wanted to do it for sixteen years.’

  ‘No,’ Audrey said. ‘You stop talking! You have nothing to do with this. You are not going to spoil it. You have everything and I have NOTHING but this and him and… and our love and you are not going to have had that too. You are NOT GOING TO TELL ME YOU’VE HAD HIM TOO.’ Stricken, distraught, as though all the emotions that had been brewing behind that blank mask were bursting up and out and into life, Audrey pulled Graham towards her, wailing through her tears. ‘Yes! Yes I’ll move in with you. Now. Tonight.’

  ‘Audrey…’ Selena gasped, as Graham beamed with glee.

  ‘I never want to see you or speak to you again.’ Audrey stomped across the Cup and Saucer, Graham shuffling behind as fast as he could manage, while the Larks and their assorted guests watched, mouths open, for the first time ever their hearts cracking with sympathy for the frozen, punch-splattered figure in front of them.

  After what seemed like a horribly long time, Marjory broke the silence. ‘You know how this goes. She’ll be back once he gets bored, you haven’t lost her.’

  Selena blinked twice and shook a purple droplet from her hair. ‘Oh, I’ve no doubt he’ll dump her as soon as another foolish, lonely girl catches his eye. If he doesn’t drop dead of a fornicating-induced heart attack before then. But I have to disagree with your last point. If I hadn’t already lost her, she’d never have fallen for the slithering pus-ball.’

  Nathan brought Selena her coat and handbag. ‘Come on. I’ll take you home.’

  ‘Right, show’s over, people,’ Dani called out as they left. ‘As much as we love Selena and Audrey, and all loathe Graham Gags, there’s nothing we can do about it now. It’s nine-thirty, we’ve still got an hour and a half of serious partying left. And I haven’t danced to Beyoncé yet. Mr DJ, would you do the honours?’

  It took another couple of songs, but, boy, Dani’s moves were infectious, and once Marjory and her partner started jiving, we had to clear all the tables to the edge of the room anyway.

  ‘Come on, Amy!’ Mel yelled, throwing an imaginary lasso to tug me into the crowd. ‘Time to stop spectating, start participating!’

  I looped the lasso over my head and tossed it back to her. ‘Maybe another time.’ I’d had a good night, mostly. Had overcome another massive hurdle, done some genuine participating. But it was now nearly ten, and I was mentally and emotionally running on empty.

  Bronwyn flossed over to where I stood. ‘If you dance, you can go to bed tonight knowing you aced it. A-star. Gold medal. Were utterly bold and fearless and brilliant in every instance. If you don’t, you’ll go home knowing you let fear win, even if just in this one small thing. Come on, let’s totally smash the party.’

  ‘Maybe in a minute, okay?’

  Before someone else came and made getting Amy to dance the new focus of the evening, I dodged round the edge of the café and slipped into the bathroom. Whew. The Amy in the mirror was a far cry from the last time I’d been in here. I looked as though I’d been out out. For a woman who’d been in in for so long, that felt like an A-star to me. And when I returned to find Nathan back, strutting to ‘Uptown Funk’ like a drunken robot chicken, I figured what the hell, if I was dancing with him, then it would give me an excuse to look right at him, rather than ogle from the sidelines.

  ‘Is it wrong that I find that sort of sexy?’ one of the younger Larks I didn’t know very well whispered out the side of her mouth, as Nathan jerked about.

  ‘If it’s wrong, then I don’t want to be right,’ Bronwyn laughed, breathless. ‘But don’t tell my boyfriend I said that!’ she added, coming to an abrupt halt. ‘Like, seriously. Please don’t.’

  ‘Are you scared of your boyfriend?’ I asked, as she started bopping again.

  ‘As if! I’m a hardcore bouncer, remember!’ She grinned and twirled away, but not so fast that I didn’t see the flicker of a lie behind her smile.

  A couple of songs later, I quit the dance floor and checked my phone. A missed call from Joey. Four texts that rambled on for several paragraphs each. The summary: could he stay the night at Sean’s Airbnb?

  Crap.

  Could he? I reviewed the numerous reasons he gave for this last-minute change in plans. Took a deep breath, ducked into the bathroom and called Sean.

  ‘Hey, Amy. How’s the party?’

  ‘Was this your idea?’

  ‘It was…’ I could hear the cogs turning in Sean’s head as he tried to decide what answer would be more likely to make me say yes. ‘Sort of, came to us both at the same time.’

  ‘Right. Fill me in on the details, then.’

  ‘Well. There’s a spare room in the apartment. I’ve got an extra toothbrush. I’ll drive him straight to the gala in Leicester in the morning, stay and watch him race. That way you don’t have to rush home and can lie-in tomorrow.’

  ‘He needs his kit.’

  ‘Yeah, we can pop by and pick it up on the way.’

  ‘You already have it, don’t you?’

  Silence.

  ‘If this is going to work, you need to stop playing me. I’m not nineteen any more and I won’t be manipulated or controlled. This kind of crap just stops me trusting you.’

  ‘Yeah. Sorry. I hear you, and I’ll make sure I talk things through with you in future. But Joey’s really excited and…’

  ‘Again, emotional blackmail is not going to help. I’m totally comfortable with disappointing him or coming off as the mean parent if I believe it’s in his best interest. You’re the one who got his hopes up, not me.’

  ‘Right. Sorry. I’ll bring him straight home. Tell him it was my fault, I should have discussed it with you earlier.’

  The door to the bathroom crashed open as Bronwyn and another runner tumbled through, sweaty and laughing, accompanied by the sound of a roomful of partygoers giving their all to ‘Livin’ on a Prayer’. ‘All right, Ames? Nathan’s looking for you, wanted to dance.’

  I thought about that for a couple of seconds. Did one of those lightning-quick parental calculations, assessing the pros and cons and deciding that I didn’t actually have a good reason for making Joey come home now, just to be picked up by Sean first thing in the morning. Pretended it had nothing to do with me dancing with Nathan. Decided that even if it did, so what? It was about time I wanted to stay out and have some fun for once.

  ‘No, he can stay. But I’m serious about ditching the games, Sean.’

  ‘Thanks, Amy. I can’t tell you how much it means to us…’

  So they were an us now, Sean and Joey. Was there any of that cinnamon punch left?

  39

  Stop Being a Loser Programme

  Day One Hundred and One

  Three glasses of wine later, the remaining few Larks sat strewn amongst the debris, as the staff attempted to clear up around us. Mel, despite giving up alcohol when Tate was born, was nevertheless drunk on communal dancing, sleep-deprivation for all the best reasons, and a truckload of endorphins.
>
  ‘You lot!’ she exclaimed, leaning her head on Dani’s shoulder. ‘Are the best Larks a woman could wish for. I can’t believe all what you’re doing for my little boy. That triathlon is going to be one of the best blummin’ days of my whole life. All these years, it’s been all up ter me. Meetings and phone calls and appeals and fighting to get my kids what they need. All the while knowing that if I drop the ball, if I mess something up or get it wrong, it’s me kids who will suffer. And now. Now… I’m not on me own any more. I just can’t tell yer…’ She dabbed her eyes, hiccupped and did an enormous sniff. ‘Right, someone change subject for goodness’ sake. It’s supposed to be a party. Eh – I know – did you hear that Amelia Piper is gonna be there on the day to open the centre?’

  Oh no. My heart froze.

  ‘Really?’ Bronwyn leant in. ‘Wasn’t there some massive scandal about her, ages ago?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Dani nodded. ‘She went MIA. Never turned up to the Olympics. What year was it?’

  2004.

  ‘2004,’ Marjory said.

  ‘There was that whole Search for Amelia thing!’ Bronwyn exclaimed. ‘And then it turned out she’d just run off with some bloke, and she got sued by her own parents.’

  ‘Oh yeah, I saw them on the telly…’

  I made it three steps out the café door.

  Nathan found me, slumped against the freezing cold wall, wiping the vomit off my chin. He handed me a napkin, waited while I cleaned up, then held out a glass of water.

  ‘Are you okay for a minute while I sort you a lift? It might take a while to get a taxi this time in the morning.’

  ‘No.’ I cleared my throat, tried again. ‘No, I can walk. It was just the heat and the wine and everything. I needed a minute to clear my head, but I’m fine.’ Hah. If fine meant my vital organs were disintegrating.

  He studied me for a moment, unconvinced.

  I pushed away from the wall and stood as straight as I could manage, chin up, swimmer’s shoulders back, hands raised in a ‘see?’ gesture, using everything I’d got to override the chaos in my ribcage. ‘And I don’t need you to walk me home, either. It’s eight minutes. I’m feeling great now. You shouldn’t just disappear without saying good night to everyone.’

  He shook his head in mock frustration. ‘I’ve already said good night. And I can follow you like last time, or we can walk together. Either way, you know I’m seeing you home.’

  Underneath my complete freak out, I did know that. ‘Okay then.’

  He held out a hand. ‘Would it help?’

  I nodded. Nathan gently took hold of my hand, and, honestly, as long as I focused on that, it felt as though nothing else could touch me. Like being at home, in the safety of my bed, only infinitely better because I was still outside, breathing in cold, crisp air as opposed to stuffy duvet fumes and walking beneath the light of a billion stars.

  Halfway home, Nathan spoke again. ‘You know that if you want to talk about it, I won’t tell anyone.’

  ‘What is there to say? It just got too much. I’ve been out for seven hours.’

  We walked a few more steps. ‘Joey filled in a parental consent form to join the club.’

  ‘And?’ I frowned, my wrung-out brain trying hard to follow this new conversation.

  ‘Amy Piper.’

  We had nearly reached my house. I stopped anyway, my hand dropping from his. ‘How long have you known?’

  He looked down, kicked at a wonky slab in the pavement. ‘I told you I trained with the Loughborough Uni team.’

  ‘I need to get inside.’ Hurrying past Nathan, I virtually ran down my front path, scrabbling at the lock with my key until he gently took it off me, opening up and letting me practically ram him out the way to get to my sofa before my knees gave out. ‘Carry on.’ I waved a hand at him, impatiently. My anxiety was out of its cage and on the rampage.

  Nathan took a seat on the chair opposite me. ‘I watched you compete a couple of times. We even trained together once. I ate lunch at your table in the café. Asked stupid questions about your diet because I couldn’t think of how else to start a conversation.’

  ‘I don’t remember.’

  ‘Of course you don’t. I was nobody, you were Amelia Piper. I’d never seen anyone so focused and strong and brilliant. You were captivating. I was in awe.’ He pulled a wry smile, running his fingers through his hair. ‘You were my first major crush.’

  I clutched my stomach, praying there was nothing left to throw up. ‘So how did you recognise me? I bear absolutely no resemblance to that person.’

  Nathan’s voice was gentle. ‘You’re far more like her than you think. In all the best ways.’

  ‘So, you’ve known all along?’

  ‘I wondered, when I saw the name on Joey’s form. When I saw him swim. But then, you never came to training, or to the meets. I guessed you might be trying to avoid stealing his limelight, wanting him to be judged on his own merit. And, of course, your career hadn’t ended well. But to never turn up, when swimming had been everything to you? I decided it was a coincidence, similar name, or maybe you were distant cousins or something, that’s it. And then, when I saw you in the street, as soon as you opened your eyes… I was seventeen again.’

  ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’

  ‘I got why you wanted to stay anonymous. It wasn’t my secret to tell.’

  ‘All that fuss about the triathlon, the whole publicity thing…’

  ‘I remember what it was like for you. How everyone who came near you had an agenda. Resenting your talent, or worshipping you for it. I didn’t want you to think I was one of those people. Only interested in what your name and fame could bring us.’

  I shook my head, even managed something close to a laugh. ‘Well, I did a pretty good job of using my name and my fame to get what I wanted from Antonio Galanos at the council.’

  Nathan smiled. ‘I did wonder.’

  ‘Bloody hell, Nathan. You must have been dying to say something. How could you resist trying to wangle it out of me? All those times we talked about warm-ups and training.’

  ‘Being stiflingly self-disciplined can come in useful sometimes.’ He paused. ‘As I’m sure you know.’

  ‘Mmm.’

  The momentousness of the whole conversation filled the room.

  ‘You probably should tell the others at some point.’

  ‘I know. I’ve agreed to open the centre.’ I sighed. ‘I’m just not ready to talk about it yet. The Larks have been… everything. Once they know, it’ll change. You heard them just now. Even if they pretend to be all nice and understanding, I know what they really think.’

  ‘Late-night idle gossip. You’re talking about the single mother of five kids, one of whom will never know who her father is. A human rights lawyer who was the only black woman in her Oxford college, and the girlfriend of a local mafia boss. They aren’t going to judge you.’

  ‘They’ve already convicted Amelia Piper.’ I shook my head. ‘It’s been so good being accepted as a loser, rather than a failed winner.’

  ‘Well, if it’s any consolation, I won’t be treating you any differently. And I hope that’s not been like a loser or a failed winner.’

  ‘You’ve been nothing but professional at all times, Coach Gallagher.’

  Nathan beamed, suddenly, all white teeth and eyes like stainless steel.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Amelia Piper, calling me coach.’

  ‘Keep being nice to me and I might sit with you at lunch sometime.’

  We chatted for a few more minutes about nothing much, Nathan only going home once it was clear the shockwaves of the past half hour had settled, leaving me with about enough strength to drag myself upstairs, brush my teeth and crawl into bed. Maybe other women would feel ashamed to wake up in last night’s clothes, face a smeary mess and hair smelling of Prosecco, but as a one-time-only thing, partying past midnight was a whole step up on the Programme. I showered, wolfed down a mountain of tea and toast and spe
nt the next six hours in full-on information-processing mode. Trying to spend more time focusing on the fact that Nathan knew who I was, rather than replaying over and over again that I was captivating, he was in awe, first major crush. That, combined with AS SOON AS YOU OPENED YOUR EYES, I WAS SEVENTEEN AGAIN, equalled feelings that didn’t only break Nathan’s rules, they stomped them into smithereens.

  40

  Stop Being a Loser Programme

  Day One Hundred and Three

  One side effect of being mentally imprisoned within your own house for over two years is an acute case of talking to minibeasts, television characters, inanimate objects and, inevitably, myself. Another, I realised the week before Christmas, is an ability to stretch a modest income from one payday to the next. On top of my usual outgoings – rent, bills, Joey’s mammoth calorie requirements, his membership of various sports clubs and associated equipment costs – I now piled on my own running club fees, the additions to my wardrobe and shoe-rack, plus multiple orders of pancakes, fancy coffees and more variations than I’d have thought possible of eggs and avocado. Add on drinks at the Christmas party and my night out with Nathan and by the time I finished the Programme, complete with full-on outside life, Amelia Piper would be reduced to selling her story to the likes of Moira Vanderbeek to avoid plummeting into the washed-up-celebrity bankruptcy cliché.

  I clicked shut my online bank statement, booted out a horrible thought about Sean and child support, then listened again to a saved voice message from my employer, Grant Winlock, who ran the bid company I worked for.

  As one of the most productive and long-standing bid writers at Winlock Tenders, I had been offered the position of senior bid writer several times. One of the current three senior writers was retiring in the New Year. The job was mine if I wanted it. Oh, and providing I could attend an informal interview to demonstrate my ability to present myself to major corporate clients as a non-gibbering wreck in the flesh.