Heart of Glass (16 page)

As they reached the middle
of the road, Ben looked across, seeing me clinging to the lights
and staring at him. I saw him swear. I saw the blond girl walking
beside him; oblivious to the tension I could see in his body. He
couldn’t get away and I couldn’t run without releasing the entire
contents of my stomach onto the pavement again.

As he stepped onto the curb,
I stood tall and looked into his eyes, trying to ignore the fact
that my top and shoes were laden with chunks of vomit. And for the
second time ever, I hit him. “I despise you.”

The girl looked on in
surprise, though her perfect features barely registering emotion.
“Oh Ben, you’ve been screwing a little schoolgirl. How have you
managed to keep her tucked away all this time? You naughty
boy.”

“
I’m not a little school
girl,” I bit back, as I pushed between them and ran for the bus
stop, sending a splatter of spew onto her white wedge
heels.

“
Bella, wait!” Ben called
after my retreating figure. Then he ran too, following me as I
vanished into the crowd.

I ran until my stomach hurt.
I ran until I thought I couldn’t hear him chasing me. I saw the bus
coming to my stop and I ran straight in front of it.

“
Bella…!”

I turned. He’d followed me.
The bus was coming and he had followed me.

“
Ben!” I cried out for him
to move and then I ran, shoving him from the path of the bus and
onto the footpath.

Ben’s head was cradled in my
lap, covered in spew. He was fine, a bit shaken, but fine. The
tears were stinging my eyes, my relief releasing itself in ragged
breaths from my chest.

“
You saved me, Bella. You
saved my life. ”

“
I should have let you
die.”

He gazed up he my face, he
knew I didn’t mean it. “I won’t forget this.”

“
Believe me, I’m going to
try.”

***

For the next week, Ben rang
constantly. Of course, I had no wish to speak to him other than to
know he was safe. If anything, I would have liked to use his balls
as a noose to strangle him with but it wasn’t an option so I
ignored him instead. By Monday, he was gone and the phone stood
silent in the hall. Every time it rang, I pricked my ears in
expectation and ran to answer it just so I could have the pleasure
of hearing him crawl but it was never him.

Then, a package arrived by
courier, its return address was not familiar but I recognised the
handwriting at once. With an air of finality, I held it over the
open bin. But, with the full intention of gloating over my own
inner strength, I ripped the package open. Inside, were a Neil
Young album and a letter. I picked it up. I put it to my face. It
smelt of him. I had no choice. I had to read it.

My Dearest
Bella,

Please, believe me when I
say this a terrible misunderstanding. The girl you saw me with was
a friend. I can see you’re already laughing at that old line and
thinking, “as if I’d fall for that!” But it’s true. She is my
friend and there’s NEVER been anything more than friendship between
us. Our families have known each other since before we were born. I
love you so much, Bella. You should have let me explain. You
shouldn’t have run from me. I think you are the greatest girl in
the world. You belong to me and we’re meant to be together so
please don’t shut me out. Instead, listen to ‘Lotta Love’ and
remember the beautiful day we spent together in the field. We can
have so many more if you’ll just forgive me.

Yours always

Ben x

I stared at the letter for a
long time before I smoothed out the creases.  I tucked it
under my pillow. Ben could say anything he liked but the truth
never lied and if he could go out and have a good time, then so
could I. Fuck him. I didn’t belong to him or anybody. Fuck him. It
was too late for apologies. I never wanted to see him
again.

Chapter 14

DON’T THROW IT ALL
AWAY

We can take the darkness
and make it full of light

Let your love flow back to
me

How can you leave and let
this feeling die?

The Bee Gees

“
Shit, shit,
shit.”

I studied at my timetable
for the sixth time and stared up and down the hall. Room 314, where
the hell was Room 314? The building was hopeless, a bloody rabbit
warren, it had so many narrow corridors that led to nowhere. Some
of the rooms were not even in numerical order and at the rate I was
going I’d be late for the workshop. Not a good way to start 1982 or
my university career.

I wandered, lost, along the
hall, wishing I hadn’t thrown the campus map away. As it was, Mum
and Dad had gone ballistic when I told them I’d signed up for this
course. Imagine their faces if I failed because of
nonattendance.

“
What use is creative
writing in the real world?” Dad had said. “You’d be far better off
studying psychology; at least you could teach or be a social
worker.”

“
I’m doing it for an
outlet, Dad. Some of my other courses are pretty heavy.”

“
Hmph,” he’d grunted, by
way of acceptance. “I suppose you know what you’re
doing.”

Mum, of course, laid on a
guilt trip complete with baggage, which went half way around the
globe without stopping to refuel. She gave in with a parting dig,
“Well, it’s your life Bella. We’ve done the best we can, paying for
your education and everything. Heaven forbid that old fools like us
should have any sort of sensible opinion.”

Anyone would think I had
signed up for Terrorist Studies 101.

Sprinting around the corner,
my eyes fixed on the door numbers and counting ahead, I lurched
headlong into a boy coming the other way.

“
Fuck!” he cried, as our
heads collided and papers and books flew into the air.

I stopped, rubbing my
forehead. A dismal pile of books lay at my feet. There was no way
I’d avoid being late now. “Why don’t you watch where you’re
going?”

“
You could be a bit more
careful yourself, it’s a hallway, not a bloody grand prix
track.”

“
Sorry, I was in a bit of a
hurry.”

We bent down to retrieve the
contents of his ring binder. Loose papers were strewn up and down
the hall and he tutted quietly to himself as he looked at them.
“It’s OK, I’ve got a hard head but I think my nose is broken.” He
looked me up and down. “I guess you’re new.”

“
Am I that
obvious?”

“
You looked lost and
ridiculous with that enormous pile of books you’ve borrowed from
the library. Nobody works during ‘O’ week, sweetheart. You just
meet the tutors and drink.”

The boy reached over and
began to stack my books for me.

“
I was looking for Room
314, but it’s not where it should be.” I must have sounded like a
complete idiot. Rooms don’t usually get up and move of their own
accord.

“
Nothing around here is
where it should be. Grab your things and I’ll lead the way, I know
the room.”

I followed him along the
corridor and around the corner. His lanky legs moved so quickly
across the carpet, I had to run to keep up. “I’m Annabelle
Stone.”

“
I’d say nice to meet you,
Annabelle, but until I get the bill for my nose I’m not sure
whether it is. I’m Justin Fitzgerald. Are you in Prof. Phillips
workshop?”

“
Yes, how did you
know?”

“
I saw your
papers.”

“
What’s he
like?”

“
He’s an arsehole,
everybody hates him. Make sure you’re prepared or he’ll knock you
down to size like that.” He snapped his fingers in the
air.

“
But I’m only doing his
course for fun.”

“
Prof. Phillips’ classes
are not fun, Annabelle, believe me. They’re a shitload of work.” I
bit my lip; maybe it wasn’t such a good idea. Perhaps I should have
done psychology like Dad said.

We stopped outside a grey
door. Looking back down the hall, I wondered how I could have
missed it the first time. I had walked past it at least twice.
“Thanks for the advice. I hope your nose is OK.”

Justin smiled back. “I’ll
live. Listen, are you off in an hour or so?”

“
Yeah, I’m finished after
this. Why?”

“
A few mates of mine are
catching up in the bar. Why don’t you join us, meet a few people?
Our male bonding goes a bit too far sometimes. We could do with
some female input.”

“
Sounds great, I’ll see you
there.”

He waved goodbye as he
walked back the way he had come. “Good luck with
Phillips.”

I poked my head around the
door to the room. Everything was grey, except for a little man who
sat at the end of the table with dark unruly hair and a large pipe
dangling from the corner of his mouth. I gathered that was
Phillips. The other students, already seated with pens poised, were
clearly waiting for my arrival. It had shades of Miss Gibson and
Year Ten Biology written all over it.

“
Sorry, I’m late,” I
mumbled. “I got lost.”

***

Little more an hour later, I
stood on tiptoes in the door of the University Bar. My insecurities
were jumping up and down attempting to bite me on the bum but I was
determined to begin my new life. Bella, the party girl. That was
me. All I needed was the party. My eyes scanned the heads looking
for Justin. I couldn’t even remember what he’d been wearing, though
I knew he was tall and thin, at least 6” 2”, with brown short hair
that was shaved at the sides and a rather obnoxious little rat’s
tail cut at the back. I looked around. It was hopeless. Every boy
in the bar looked like that. Biting my lip, I craned my neck over
the masses of over-dyed denim and stretch jeans. This wasn’t fun at
all, it was a serious a mistake.

“
Annabelle! Over
here!”

A hand poked put from above
the heads. I put on my best smile and tried to look cool as I
walked towards it.

Justin gave me a friendly
grin. “Guys, this is Bella, the girl who tried to give me a home
nose job. You don’t mind if I call you Bella do you?”

“
No, go right ahead.” I
looked expectantly around the group.

“
This is Phil Burns. He’s
filthy rich but don’t hold that against him. He’s finishing his
Fine Arts Degree, while he waits to inherit the Burns millions.
Pity he’ll never use it. It’s a waste of talent. His daddy has a
yacht at the Royal, so be nice to him and he might take you for a
ride one day.”

Phil thrust out a hand and
shook mine furiously. He didn’t look filthy rich; he looked
ordinary and nice with little gold glasses perched on the end of
his nose and a rather neat checked shirt. His hair was the only
clue to his creative streak, being a prime example of eighties
styling with spikes and blue streaks in all the wrong places. “Nice
to meet you Bella, would you like a drink, a wine or
something?”

He turned to the bar, and a
vision of Astro Boy came to mind, his gelled locks nearly taking
out my eye. “Hey Shelley, get us a Riesling, sweetie, would
you?”

I’d never met a boy who
addressed girls as ‘sweetie’ before. It was quite….well….
sweet.

“
And this is Steve Cooper,”
Justin added. “You can ignore him if you like, he has no money at
all but he thinks he’s God’s gift and he’s a bit of a sleaze, so
don’t let him come on to you.”

A dark haired guy leapt from
his stool.

“
Coops,” he corrected,
grasping my hand and raising it to his lips. I tingled as tiny
tremors ran along my arm and into my spine. Then I blushed again.
He was very handsome. His voice was deep against my hand, his eyes
never leaving my face. “Would you like a seat, Bella?”

“
Thanks.”

I hopped onto the edge of
the barstool. So far, so good. They all seemed nice, no axe
murderers or weirdoes.

Coops turned to Justin,
punching his upper arm. “Thanks, mate! I don’t think you should be
responsible for introductions any more. You make me sound like a
pervert and Phil sounds like some sort of pretentious private
school boy who should be sitting at the Polo Club drinking whisky
on the rocks.”

“
What do you do, Steve?” I
asked. Pervert wasn’t an occupation, more of a lifestyle
choice.

“
I’m a
carpenter.”

“
Oh. How did you meet
Justin then?”

“
We went to school
together,” Phil said.

“
Ahh. So you’re not a
‘pretentious private school boy’ then?”

Justin laughed. “Well, he is
actually. We met in primary school and then Phil went to Grammar
for secondary. We stayed friends though. No one else can put up
with him and we like his yacht.”

For a moment I felt a stab
of regret. I would never be able to say that about my school
friends. I didn’t even know how I would introduce them.

“
This is my friend Lucy,
who didn’t talk to me for six months because she wanted my
boyfriend and then got pregnant to him before the baby died and she
ran away to hippy commune.” I was sure that’d go down a treat.
Besides, I didn’t believe we’d be friends a year from now, let
alone in ten years. We were going our separate ways.