Happier Than She's Ever Been... (13 page)

May didn't like bars, but she knew Jake did. And she supposed it was better than the intimacy of a restaurant booth or, worse still, her hotel room. When she first walked inside she couldn't see him. She'd been half hoping he wouldn't be there, but, now that he wasn't, the disappointment quickened her pulse, the familiar sense of rejection tasted like copper in her mouth. She turned to go.

‘Maya, May, wait!'

She glanced back to see Jake hurrying towards her, two glasses of wine held aloft: one white, one red. He handed May the red as he reached her.

‘Cabernet sauvignon.'

Despite herself, May smiled. ‘You remembered.'

‘But, of course.' He flashed his bright white teeth at her again.

Jake led the way to the back of the bar and May followed, like a magnet, sliding into a booth before she could think to object. Their knees touched under the table and she shifted slightly so it wouldn't happen again. She thought of Ben at home, oblivious. Then she remembered what he'd done. So, technically, it didn't matter what she did now; she'd only be evening the score.

‘I can't believe you're really here,' Jake said, smiling at her.

‘No. Me neither.'

‘And what's happened to you since… I mean, it's quite incredible.'

‘What?' May asked. ‘My evolution from a pathetic mess into –'

‘Hey, I never thought you were a pathetic mess,' Jake said. ‘At least, not at first. But when you got all those rejections, I suppose you lost yourself for a little while. I bet those agents and publishers are kicking themselves now, right?'

‘I doubt it.' May shrugged. ‘I don't think I'm that big a deal.'

‘Well, judging by what I read in the papers, you're the only one who doesn't.' He looked at her and held her gaze until May looked away. ‘Do I make you nervous?'

‘You make me doubt myself,' May said quietly. Perhaps it was because she was so much weaker now, whittled away by all she'd won and lost, hollowed out by too much desperation and desire, but May felt herself regressing in Jake's presence, becoming who she'd been all those years ago: needy, lonely, looking for love outside herself.

‘I remember what you liked about me back then and what you didn't,' May added. ‘And I don't think you'll like me right now.'

‘You're wrong.' Jake reached up and ran his fingertip slowly along her cheek to her chin. ‘I find you incredibly attractive right now.'

May sighed softly. ‘Don't.'

Then he kissed her. Jake's lips were warm, soft and just slightly wet. May was surprised she remembered how he'd tasted. It felt comforting, just the way chocolate cake had made her feel when she was empty and alone. As Jake slid his hands down her back, she knew how easy it would be to take it all the way. What a relief it would be, what a nice way to numb the pain rising up inside her belly. But then something shocking happened. In the darkness of that moment, May suddenly understood why Ben had done what he'd done. She could feel his heart as strongly as she now felt her own: so lost and loveless that she'd search anywhere to make it feel again.

But this wasn't how she wanted to do it. It hadn't worked with chocolate, and it wouldn't work with sex. And, as Jake lightly trailed a finger across her breasts, a small voice inside her spoke up.
No
, it whispered.
No.
So softly she almost couldn't hear it.
No.
Without thinking, May jumped up, almost spilling her wine over Jake. She apologised profusely, ran through the tables, out of the bar and jumped into the first taxi she saw.

Half an hour later, back in her hotel room, May sat on the edge of the bed. She was no longer numb. She was so filled with conflicting emotions that she couldn't for the life of her fathom how she actually felt: sad, lonely, guilty, sorry, angry, scared… She didn't know what to do. Suddenly she missed her mother; she missed Ben, Lily and Faith. The longing seized her at her throat, and the anger at herself for everything she'd done pumped through her veins. She wanted to thump the walls and wail, smash all the mirrors and rip the curtains to shreds. But she didn't even have the energy to get off the bed.

And then, for the first time in a very long time, May started to cry. For all the mistakes she'd made, for all the decisions she wished she could undo, for all the pain she'd caused.

For all she had loved, and all she had lost.

F
AITH

When May awoke the first – and only – thing she wanted to do was call Ben. But it was still only two o'clock in the morning for him and she worried about how he might react. After pondering for a moment or two, she picked up the phone and called Faith. Her cousin answered at the second ring.

‘Hello?'

‘Hi, I, um, it's…' May scrambled for a suitable apology for not having called in fifteen months, wishing she'd prepared something.

‘Oh, May, how wonderful!' Faith exclaimed. ‘How are you, lovely?'

A wave of relief washed over May; clearly her cousin still never held grudges.

‘I'm so, so sorry I didn't call,' May said. ‘I, well, for the last fifteen months I… I lost all sense of myself, and everything that really mattered, and I just…'

‘It's okay,' Faith said soothingly. ‘I signed up to the newsletter on your website. It was very informative.' May could sense Faith smiling. ‘And I just Googled you whenever I wanted to see your face. So it's all good.'

‘Oh no.' May sighed, absolutely mortified. ‘I – I was pretty, incredibly busy. But, of course, that's not the point at all.'

‘Don't worry. I know. I know you were,' Faith said. ‘And I knew you were going through some sort of identity crisis too. I expected it.'

‘You did?' May frowned, sinking back into the plush silk pillows on her bed, feeling the tension in her body begin to subside at the sound of her cousin's voice.

‘Of course,' Faith said, ‘you got sucked into the world of Comparison, Control and Crazy. It was only to be expected.'

‘You know about that?' May asked, stunned. ‘How on earth do you know about that?'

‘Oh, it's quite common knowledge among us esoteric types,' Faith said breezily. ‘It's a very typical stage in a person's development if they step into the public eye, and a very challenging one at that. Some people get stuck in that stage for the rest of their lives.'

‘What stage?' May asked, a little lost.

‘The stage of seeking,' Faith explained. ‘The stage of longing, yearning, wanting… The stage of thinking that “it” – happiness, contentment and joy – is always around the corner with the next big thing: promotion, holiday, car, house, mansion, magazine cover…'

‘But –' May hugged a cushion to her chest, absently twisting its tassels round her fingers – ‘I thought I'd been through that stage before when I was obsessed with finding a man, money and weight-loss, remember?'

‘Ah, but that was different,' Faith said, ‘that was when you had nothing. And now you have everything. It's a whole new ball game.' She laughed. ‘Did you like my American metaphor? I threw it in to make you feel more at home.' She giggled again and May felt the warmth of Faith's laugh like a balm on her soul, soothing her wounded spirit.

‘Oh, Fay, I've missed you so much.' May let out a heavy sigh. ‘I want to see you, I need to see you. Are you free?'

‘For you? Of course I am, but are
you
?'

‘No,' May said, ‘but I will be.'

Faith and May walked slowly along the river, arm in arm. Her cousin looked exactly as May remembered: her long wild black hair, crazily colourful clothes – this time a pair of purple leggings, a red tutu and a bright green jumper – and the most beautiful smile she'd ever seen. The late-afternoon sun shone softly through the trees, shimmering on the water. May sighed happily and, suddenly overcome with an inexplicable rush of love and joy, squeezed her cousin tightly. Faith squeezed her back.

‘Did they make a fuss?'

‘Not really,' May said. ‘I told them I was having some sort of artistic breakdown and I needed a few days off. I expect they're used to it, all those dramatic, diva artists they have to deal with. They didn't try to stop me.'

The two women walked along in silence for a while, hearing only the occasional quack or splash of a duck landing on the river. A light wind blew through the trees, rustling the leaves, and every now and then a cyclist passed them on the path. May really wanted to talk, to get her cousin's advice on every crazy thing she'd done over the last few months, but she couldn't bring herself to break the silence. It had been so long since she'd heard it: the thick syrupy softness of the air, so still it almost sat on her skin and May wanted to soak in it for as long as she could.

When at last they reached the end of the path and began to stroll across the fields in the direction of Faith's flat, May spoke up. ‘So tell me more about the ball game.'

‘What? Oh, yes, okay then,' Faith said, taking a moment or two to remember what she'd been talking about. ‘Yes, so… the stage of striving for everything, seeking happiness, seeing it in the distance but never feeling it inside.'

‘Exactly,' May said. ‘That one, 'cause I thought I'd been through that, dealt with it. I mean, I spent my whole life striving to find happiness in something, but when I let go of everything, when I found myself, when I stood at the top of that mountain in Arizona… Then I knew I'd found happiness
inside
me; I knew it wasn't out there. I stopped striving. I found peace. And then I went and bloody well lost it all again.'

‘Ah, but you see,' Faith said, smiling, ‘it's quite easy to find peace on a mountain top, away from the world – all the advertisements, TV, magazines, rich and famous people, the constant invitations to compare yourself to others and find yourself wanting – all alone, where you can feel the calm even in the air. But to stand right in the middle of all the madness in this crazy world and still be at peace? Now that takes real strength of self.'

May sighed ‘Ah, well then, I supposed I never had that.'

‘Hey.' Faith squeezed her hand. ‘Don't feel bad about it, most people don't. So when they get dropped into the illusory world of fame and fortune, they lose their heads and, more important still, their hearts. They compare themselves to everyone else. They become convinced they have to keep striving for more and more. They have no perspective. They can't let go – of money or work and the need to have control over everything. So they have no peace. And that's when the craziness sets in.'

‘Yes.' May giggled, suddenly seeing herself so clearly. ‘That's exactly what happened to me.'

‘Exactly, it could have happened to anyone.'

‘Not you.'

‘Well, no.' Faith smiled. ‘Not me, but then I am a saint.'

At this May giggled louder until they were both laughing and couldn't stop. Faith fell onto the grass, rolling around in her tutu, and May flopped down beside her.

‘Oh, oh, oh,' May exclaimed breathlessly, ‘that was my life, that was me. I can't believe it, you've just… it's like you were watching me the whole time.'

‘Sometimes I know you even better than you know yourself.' Faith giggled, still catching her breath.

‘True, that's true, that's so true,' May realised, ‘I'm only just starting to see it, how deluded I've been, driven by the little gremlin inside me, desperate to get his grubby little hands on all the world has to offer, without caring a damn for the consequences. I've been ignoring the whispers of my heart, telling me how miserable I was making myself ' – with a stab in her chest, May thought of Ben – ‘and everyone else.'

‘Forgive yourself for that,' Faith said softly, echoing Harry. She sat up and pulled May's hands into her lap. ‘There really aren't many people strong enough to resist the pull of illusion: of fabulous shoes and fancy dresses, mansions and magazine covers, the attention and adoration of strangers. People are pulled in by the sparkle, mistaking the rush of glitz and glamour for true joy. It's too easy to become trapped in the cycle of celebrity, succeeding and striving, while deep down wondering why you don't feel as satisfied as you should and why true happiness always evades you.'