Confessions Of A Karaoke Queen (28 page)

‘You’re just going to put an unhelpful spin on everything I say, aren’t you?’ She flicks channels on the telly. ‘Ooh look,
Three Men and a Baby
’s on at four.’

I put the soup down. ‘It’ll only make me upset.’

‘What, that you don’t live in a massive New York apartment with handsome creative types and throw parties where it’s acceptable to dance to Gloria Estefan?’

‘No.’

‘That the likelihood of you being in the same park as Tom Selleck, Ultimate Man, playing Frisbee and wearing high-waisted shorts is about a billion to one?’

I smile. ‘That’s moderately upsetting.’

‘Well, then.’

‘I’m just not in the mood for happy endings.’ I pull the duvet up to my chin, determined to wallow in the full depth of my gloom. ‘Especially not love ones.’

‘Actually none of them finds love at the end,’ explains Lou. ‘Except they love the baby, of course. That’s kind of the point.’

‘Yuck.’

‘God, you are in a foul mood, aren’t you?’

I ball my fists and slam them down on the bed, stroppy as a child. ‘I wish I’d never said yes to this in the first place, Lou. We’re in a massive fuck-off mess now and it’s all my fault.’

‘Hey, everyone understands,’ she says, kicking me gently.

‘You think?’

‘Sure. You’ve done the right thing telling them what’s happening – now they know what Evan’s up to they can decide for
themselves how they want to be perceived. Getting all woe-isme about it isn’t going to help.’

‘Ugh.’ I pop a throat sweet out its foil and suck on it, ignoring her counsel. ‘It’s been a disaster from start to finish.’ At Lou’s raised eyebrow, I add, ‘On a personal level, at least.’

Lou flicks channels idly. ‘So I guess you don’t care he’s been walking round with a face like doom,’ she says.

‘Who?’ I ask, feigning ignorance and not believing for a single second that she’ll buy it.

‘Oh, no one.’ She settles on
Countdown
.

We both take a few seconds to work out the anagram. Lou comes up with ‘Lavish’ and I come up with ‘Haves’.
Haves
. It’s not even a proper word.

‘I don’t care, Lou,’ I pronounce. ‘He’s dead to me.’

‘That’s a terrible thing to say!’

‘What he did was terrible.’ I sink down lower. ‘He had me going the whole time.’

‘But you haven’t even heard him out,’ she says. ‘Don’t you think you should at least see what he comes back with?’

I shake my head. I haven’t told Lou about what Nick and I talked about on the bridge. If she knew he’d lied about that, she’d never speak to him again either.

‘He asked me yesterday how you were. I think he knows something’s up.’

‘Good. He tried ringing last night but I ignored it. He’s left it too bloody late – he’s had days to call, even before all this blew up, and he didn’t. Now I know why. He was probably receiving his next set of instructions from Evan.’

On cue my phone beeps and Lou and I look at each other.

‘Pick it up, then!’

I reach over. I don’t know what I’m hoping for. I’m angry and hurt and upset, and even if I don’t want to hear it and I’ve already made up my mind, I still want an explanation.

But it’s Lawrence.

‘Ugh!’ cries Lou, peering over my shoulder. ‘It’s Lawrence!’

Hey Mads, heard u were ill, coming over tonight to make u better. L x

Lou makes a pretend gagging sound.

‘All right, all right,’ I say, flipping the phone shut.

‘He’s tenacious, isn’t he? I’d have thought he was well pissed off after your altercation last week.’

‘I thought you weren’t watching!’

‘I just caught that bit,’ she admits sheepishly. ‘I had to turn it off when Alex kept banging on about Jaz liking Si. You don’t think she does, do you?’

‘No.’ I blow my nose. ‘I’ve told you before.’

Lou snatches the handset off me. ‘You’re not
seeing
Law again, are you?’

‘Of course I’m not.’ I bristle. ‘He’s just been … phoning me. And checking up on me. And making sure I’m OK. What’s wrong with that? I said we could be friends, didn’t I?’

She reads the message again. ‘But it sounds romantic, Maddie,’ she whispers. ‘It sounds …
menacing
.’

‘He wants to make it up to me,’ I say, patting down the duvet and lying back like a nerve-addled damsel in need of my smelling salts. ‘And I could do with a little attention right now.’

‘He didn’t mind about your spat being broadcast?’

‘No.’ I yawn. ‘Lawrence didn’t mind at all.’

Lou snorts. ‘That figures.’

‘Well anyway,’ I puff, ‘what’s wrong with enjoying a little grovelling? I deserve it!’

Lou looks confused. ‘But I thought you hated him.’

‘I never
hated
him,’ I say patiently. ‘I just didn’t particularly
like
him.’

‘That’s the same thing.’

‘No, it’s not. And isn’t a girl allowed to change her mind?’

Now she’s properly worried. ‘Not where Lawrence Olivier’s concerned—’

‘It’s Lawrence
Oliver
.’ To this day Lou believes she heard him on the phone once calling himself that – she’s never let it go.

‘Whatever. Aren’t you forgetting how he behaved all the time you were together? And that it’s very possible he cheated on you—’

‘But we don’t know that for certain, do we?’

‘Oh, Maddie.’ She shakes her head, despairing. ‘Either you are suffering from a dreadful delusional fever or you’re swapping one man’s affections for another’s.’

I try to focus on the numbers round – it’s just not the same without Carol. ‘Why would I do that?’

She props herself up next to me. ‘Because you’re feeling discarded. Nick’s crapped all over you, and just because Lawrence happens to be taking a break from crapping all over you, you’re happy to give him another shot – even if the chances of him crapping all over you again is almost a definite, and then you’ll have had both of them crapping all over you.’

‘Can we stop talking about me getting crapped on?’

‘Sorry.’

‘Besides, I’m not giving Lawrence another shot. I’m just saying he
did
break up with that woman for me, so he’s got to like me deep down, hasn’t he? I’m not a complete reject, am I?’

‘Of course you’re not.’ She bites her lip. ‘But listen – and I’m only telling you this because I believe, I
know
that you’d be making a mistake to trust him again – but I heard it was Francesca who dumped him, not the other way round. She didn’t cast him in her new play and he kicked up such a fuss that she called the whole thing off.’

I sob into my tissues. Even that nugget of half-satisfying intelligence is a lie.

‘And there’s a rumour going round. It’s bad, Maddie …’

‘What is it?’ I snuffle.

‘Lawrence is so short of work he’s been doing shifts at his uncle’s butcher’s.’

‘So?’

‘Well,’ she winces, ‘apparently he’s been getting paid in … meat.’

I’m distressed. ‘Meat?’

‘Yeah. Like chops and things.’

‘Oh
god
!’

Lou takes my hands. ‘All I’m saying is that his motivations might not be entirely … honourable. That’s all. He dumped you because he felt he was going places and you weren’t – now it’s the other way round he wants to claim his piece. It’s dark, Maddie. And if you can’t see that, then I have to tell you.’

‘He’s getting paid in
meat
?’

‘That’s what I heard.’

I blow my nose again. ‘Fine. But even without the
Francesca Montgomery admission, he’s still been there for me – and he knows me. Right now that’s the kind of person I need—’

‘You need someone familiar,’ she says, ‘and trustworthy – that’s all. It’s not Lawrence.’

‘It’s certainly not Nick,’ I mumble. Thinking about him again sends me back into a pit of despair. ‘I told him my name as well!’ I howl.

‘Oh for god’s sake!’

‘I know … I think I have Tourette’s!’

‘You don’t have Tourette’s; you’re just a fool. I’d have thought you’d be more careful after last time.’

‘I couldn’t help it,’ I lament. ‘I thought I could trust him.’ I remember that night on the Thames, how perfect it was – too perfect, it turns out – and a well of tears throttles my chest.

Lou puts her arm round me.

‘And I guess those flowers are from Lawrence as well, are they?’ She looks over at the sorry bunch of pink carnations on the windowsill, sad and droopy through lack of sun.

‘Yes,’ I sniff.

‘I wonder how many sausages they cost.’

‘Please don’t tell me how many sausages I’m worth, I’m not sure I can handle it.’

‘OK, OK.’

But I feel marginally better, at least for the minute, so long as Lou’s here and we’re watching
Three Men and a Baby
, and trying for the fiftieth time to work out if there really
is
a ghost by the window in the scene where his mum comes round, or if it’s just a cardboard cut-out of Ted Danson in a top hat.

Lawrence turns up at five to six, a little after Lou’s gone. I answer the door looking horrible. This is one of the (few) advantages to being chased by someone you’re not interested in: it’s quite fun to test how rough you can make yourself and still be desirable.

‘Hi
yuh
,’ he greets me, opening his arms for an embrace. One thing about Lawrence: he doesn’t hold a grudge.

‘Hey.’ I sniff, and the end of my nose is sore and bright pink. My eyes are like slits and my hair’s a greasy unbrushed hedge. There might be tomato ketchup stains down my T-shirt. ‘Come in – if you’re brave.’

Enthusiastic as a dog, Lawrence bounds in after me. ‘I brought your favourite,’ he says, holding out a pizza box. I open it. It’s not my favourite at all, but I don’t mention it.

‘Thanks, that’s really kind.’

‘How are you feeling?’ He perches on the sofa, leaning forward with the anticipation of a father whose child is off playing near a precipice. Under his coat he’s wearing a peach linen shirt, dark blue jeans that have been ironed funny (or only just bought?) so there’s a sharp crease down the middle of each leg, and toffee loafers.

‘I’m OK, just vegetating.’ I flop down next to him and drag a duvet over my knees.

‘I caught the show last night,’ Lawrence says with a serious frown. ‘I’m concerned, Mads.’

‘Let’s not talk about the show.’ I grab my box of tissues, annoyed that Lawrence has to bring it up within half a minute of arriving. ‘I’m sick of it.’

‘OK … What do you want to do, then, shall we go out?’

‘Lawrence, I’m sick.’

‘Oh yuh, sorry.’

‘Are you going to take your coat off?’

‘There’s a great little coffee shop nearby, why don’t we go there?’ His eyes are bright. ‘It’d do you good to get out the house for an hour, show the world you’re still alive—’

‘I don’t
want
to go out!’ Angrily I flip open the pizza box. ‘And I don’t want to
show the world
a damn thing about me right this minute, OK? I want to sit in, stuff my face with unsuitable food and forget about everything. Are you with me or not?’

Lawrence shrugs half-heartedly out his coat. ‘How about tomorrow then? Shall we go out tomorrow? There’s a restaurant I’ve been meaning to try …’

‘Look,’ I say, ‘that’s nice of you, but I don’t know how I’m going to feel tomorrow. And anyway,’ I think of the meat, ‘can you afford it?’

He looks confused. I wonder if he’s working out how many giblets he’ll need or whether he was hoping I’d cough up like before.

‘It’s too soon,’ I say, putting him out of his misery with a generic rebuff.

‘Too soon after your fumble with that director, you mean?’

Great – I knew it was only a matter of time before that got out. Bloody Evan. I shove the box on the floor, my appetite vanished.

Lawrence reaches for me. ‘I was worried,’ he drones, ‘that’s why I brought up last night’s show, I thought you’d want to talk about it.’