It Had to Be You (38 page)

She went into the park across the road and sat down on a damp bench. Her mobile started buzzing in her bag. Lizzy knew who it was. Elliot had left her two voicemails last night and he’d called again this morning.

Lizzy almost let the phone ring out before answering. ‘Hi.’

‘You’re alive!’ He did a good impression of sounding relieved. ‘I was about to send out the search and rescue team.’

‘My phone died,’ Lizzy said.

‘You could have at least sent me an email. I was starting to get worried.’

The sheer casualness of his deception took Lizzy’s breath away. ‘How were your work drinks?’ Each word lodged painfully in her throat.

‘Nothing special.’ He sounded utterly normal. ‘I was tucked up in bed by eleven.’

Lizzy stared across the park. A small dog was running across the grass after the ball its owner had just thrown. A weird, detached part of her wanted to smile at the absurdity. Was she really sitting here on this bench, having this conversation with the man that she’d fallen in love with? It was so clichéd it was almost comical.

‘Where were your work drinks?’ she asked.

Elliot paused for a fraction too long. ‘At a bar in the City.’

‘What was it called?’

‘I can’t remember.’

A steady anger started to build inside Lizzy. ‘You can’t remember the name of the bar you had your work Christmas drinks in?’

Silence. Lizzy could almost hear his brain whirring, going on the defensive, looking for an escape route.

‘What’s this about, Lizzy?’ he asked.

‘Do you want to tell me where you really were last night?’

‘I just told you. I was out for work drinks.’

‘No,’ she said very slowly and deliberately. ‘You were at your place with Amber.’

More silence. ‘How do you know that?’

‘I saw you through your living-room window.’

‘You were spying on us?’

‘I wasn’t spying! I just had this gut instinct, which as it happened turned out to be right.’ Lizzy stopped. ‘Hold on a minute,
I’m
not the one who’s done something wrong here. Don’t you dare turn it back on me!’

She expected a blustering denial from Elliot, or at least him begging forgiveness. The lack of any reaction was damning.

‘So you’re not denying you were with her?’

‘No,’ he said simply.

Lizzy’s heart started to pound. Was this really happening?

‘Where are you?’ he asked. ‘We need to talk.’

‘I’ve think I’ve heard all I need to hear!’

‘Lizzy, please.’ Elliot lowered his voice. ‘Let me see you face to face so I can explain.’

She gripped on to her phone. ‘Just tell me one thing, Elliot. Have you been meeting up with Amber since you and I have been together?’

Lizzy was willing him to give her an explanation, a way out of this nightmare.
Tell me it’s not how it looks.

‘Yes, but—’ He started blustering. ‘Lizzy, just listen for a moment …’

‘You
bastard.
’ She hung up and burst into tears.

The last week before Christmas had descended into the usual festive chaos. People were staggering from one drinks party to the next with the exhausted look of marathon runners at mile twenty-four. The exodus had started out of the major airports as millions headed off on their well-earned breaks. It had become perfectly acceptable to see grown men going to work in the mornings with Santa hats on, and there were urban myths about commuters offering their seats to each other on the Underground. Everyone had been infected by the happy, silly giddiness before they waved goodbye to work for ten days and entered a world where calories ceased to have any meaning and it was acceptable to start on the Prosecco at breakfast.

Everyone that was, except Lizzy. She had lost her job, she had lost Elliot, and for the first time ever, she had lost her faith in the human race. After putting down the phone on Elliot, she had packed her bags and gone to stay with Poppet, and she’d been there ever since, drifting round in her pajamas like a ghost.

Lizzy had never been (knowingly) cheated on before, and she’d been shocked by her physical reaction. When she’d watched a moment of betrayal in a film or, say, in
EastEnders
, there had been lots of tears and shouting and one person would storm out of a room or throw an ornament or something, but that was nothing compared to what she’d experienced. When Elliot had admitted his infidelity (or
hadn’t
admitted it, the cowardly bastard), Lizzy’s heart had started beating so fast and so painfully that for a moment she’d honestly thought it had been about to pack up. Her whole body had been invaded by pins and needles that felt more like stabbing knives. It was like developing sudden frostbite, and she’d been frozen ever since.

To make matters worse, Elliot had started to call her incessantly. He obviously wanted to exorcize his guilty conscience, leaving rambling voicemails about how he’d messed everything up. Lizzy had started deleting them without even listening. She’d given Elliot every opportunity to explain himself, and he’d had nothing to say. There was nothing
to
say. How do you defend the incontrovertible truth that you’re in love with another woman and always will be?

She spent hours going over little things Elliot had said or done, tormenting herself even further. He was a private person and Lizzy had always respected that. But now, when she thought about it, there was never any accidental
stuff
that had spilled out of his life the way it normally did when you were seeing someone. Elliot had only ever given her what he’d wanted to. For example, wasn’t it funny how he never left his iPhone lying around? Or how he always seemed to be cutting a call short as he walked up to her? When he’d been on his iPad all those times in the coffee shop, Lizzy had never really known what he had been doing. Had he and Amber been instant-messaging each other while Lizzy had been sat there blowing on the froth of her latte like a clueless fuckwit? What about all the evenings he had worked late, the times he had turned his phone off because he was in meetings or interviewing somebody? Lizzy had worked with enough journalists to know that they
always
had their phone on. That time she’d caught him on his phone in the corner of M&M’s World and he’d fobbed her off and changed the subject. Hadn’t fifteen years of reading women’s magazines taught her
anything
?

And yet, in amongst all these dark thoughts, there was a tiny part of Lizzy that still wanted to believe. Still wanted to believe that Elliot
had
genuinely felt something for her, that he’d meant some of the things he’d said. She wanted to believe that she hadn’t imagined the way they’d grin at each other like a pair of idiots for minutes on end, or the way Elliot had held her in bed after sex, or that annoying protective-man thing he did when he took her hand at the side of the road, as if Lizzy wasn’t trusted to get across by herself. The way he’d made her
feel
, even when Lizzy hadn’t been with him. It had all felt so
real.
Maybe Elliot had convinced himself that he had felt something for Lizzy, but when the love of his life had clicked her fingers, he’d gone running.
Because if you want to trick yourself that something is there with someone, it’s easier to do than you think.

Poppet came back at seven o’clock to find Lizzy still lying in the same position on the sofa that she’d left her in that morning.

‘I thought you had your work Christmas party tonight,’ Lizzy said dully.

‘I wanted to see if you were all right. You haven’t been answering your phone.’

‘I had it on silent.’ Lizzy was staring mindlessly at an episode of
The Hairy Bikers
. She bet Dave and Si didn’t take women’s hearts in their dependable, floury hands and smash them into smithereens on the kitchen floor.

‘Is Elliot still trying to get hold of you?’

Lizzy nodded miserably. ‘I wish he’d just leave me alone.’

‘Do you think it would help if you did see him? It might give you some closure.’

‘What’s the point, Pops? It’s for his benefit, not mine. Mr Bloody Principled has been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and now he wants me to forgive him so he can walk away with his decency intact. I’m not giving him the satisfaction.’

Poppet sat down next to her. ‘You’re worth ten of Amber. You do know that, don’t you?’

‘Amber is a beautiful, world-famous fashion designer who once helped ship two thousand stray puppies out of North Korea,’ Lizzy said dully. ‘I used to peddle suppositories for a living. I’m not exactly catch of the century.’

There was a silence. ‘Right, I’m staying in tonight,’ Poppet announced.

‘Don’t be daft; you can’t miss your work do.’

‘I’d much rather stay in with you. Besides, I’ve been drunk eleven nights in a row and I can’t do up the top button of any of my work skirts.’ Poppet patted Lizzy’s leg. ‘We’ll have a lovely night in together watching schmaltzy Christmassy films and I’ll cook you something nice. Oh no!’

Big fat tears were running down the side of Lizzy’s face and plopping on to the embroidered petal pillow.

‘We don’t have to watch schmaltzy Christmassy films if it upsets you.’ Poppet looked round for the remote. ‘I think there’s something on with Jean-Claude Van Damme in it.’

‘It’s n-n-not the schmaltzy Christmassy films,’ Lizzy gulped.

‘Oh sweetheart.’ Poppet looked close to tears herself. ‘I’m so, so sorry.’

Lizzy let herself be scooped up into Poppet’s arms and cradled like a child. ‘Why am I always the girl who nobody wants?’ she sobbed.

The Three Crowns at the end of Poppet’s road had to be one of the only pubs in London that hadn’t been given the gastro facelift. At midday Lizzy was sitting in the gloomy saloon bar with a Baileys in front of her. The only other customers were a heavily tattooed skinhead with no teeth, and two old men in flat caps sat at one of the round tables by the door arguing about horse racing. The smoking ban obviously hadn’t reached the clientele of the Three Crowns, because everyone apart from Lizzy, the barman included, was chain-smoking.

She gazed through the fug of nicotine around her at the peeling flock wallpaper and stained seats. The only concession to Christmas decorations was a single paltry line of tinsel along the bar. The place had definitely seen better days, but Lizzy had needed to get out of the flat. There was only so much internal monologue a person could take. Besides, Poppet’s dad was coming over to fix the flickering light in the hallway and Lizzy couldn’t face the inevitable questions. Poppet’s dad was a very nice man, but he’d once asked Lizzy if she’d ever considered learning to sew to make herself more attractive to men.

‘Another one of those, love?’ the barman asked.

Lizzy looked at her glass. A treble Baileys went down so quickly. ‘Better make it half a lager,’ she said gloomily. Now she was unemployed she didn’t have the money for such luxuries.

A loud noise suddenly blared out from nowhere, interrupting the funereal quiet. Lizzy reached for her phone. Poppet had changed her ringtone to Destiny’s Child’s ‘Survivor’ to try and put Lizzy in a more positive state of mind.

It was her mother. ‘I just tried you at work and they said you weren’t in.’

‘That’s because I’ve been sacked for misconduct and I’m now sitting in an old man’s pub, getting drunk by myself.’

‘Ha ha, very funny, darling. Quick question! Do you think Elliot would like a pair of leather gloves?’

Lizzy gazed at the wallpaper. Was that a blood splatter, or was it meant to be part of the pattern? ‘What?’

‘I
said
, would Elliot like a pair of black-leather driving gloves for Christmas? I ended up buying two pairs for your father, and if you think Elliot would like them it would save me a trip back to Bluewater.’

‘Mum, I can’t really talk about this now.’

‘Getting an answer out of you kids about Christmas is like getting blood out of a stone! Robbie still hasn’t got back to me about whether he wants a stocking this year. I know Hayley always told us not to bother because she liked doing one for him, but do you think he’d like one from us again now? Or is he too old? And what are your thoughts on a chocolate yule log?’

One of the old men blew his nose violently into a grubby tartan handkerchief. Lizzy watched him open it and inspect the contents, his eyes widening in wonder as if he’d discovered a priceless treasure.

‘Is that a trumpet playing in the background?’ Mrs Spellman asked. ‘Are you at a Christmas concert?’

‘I have to go,’ Lizzy said. And for the first time in her life, she hung up on her mother.

The toothless tattooed guy had been loitering by the fruit machine shooting Lizzy looks. Sensing an opening, he sidled over.

‘All right darlin’?’ said a raspy voice.

Lizzy gazed up at the walking Etch A Sketch standing in front of her. The man had ‘Candice’ tattooed on his neck, ‘Mayhem’ across one sinewy bicep and ‘Mad in Britain’ across the other. And wait, was that a mermaid bleeding from the eyes on his forearm?

‘What’s a pretty girl …’ He clocked Lizzy’s pajama bottoms. ‘What’s someone like you doing in a dump like this?’

‘I wouldn’t come too close if I were you. I can’t remember the last time I brushed my teeth, and my breath could melt pavements.’ Lizzy blew on her hand for confirmation. ‘Whoa!’

Toothless Tattoo Man’s smile faltered.

‘How can I help?’ she asked briskly. ‘Have you come to chat me up?’

‘Well babe, I wouldn’t put it exactly like that …’

‘Because I may as well tell you first, I’m a woman on the edge. I’ve just lost my job. And I’ve just found out that the man I was in love with – actually, can I really say that?’ Lizzy sat back and pondered it. ‘I mean, I
thought
it was love because every second with him felt like I was floating on air, and I wanted to burst into hysterical laughter at everything – even when I tracked dog poo into the flat and thought it was the bins for two days – because everything was so bright and beautiful and so bloody
brilliant
, and every second we were apart it was like I was holding my breath until the next time I saw him, and I could start living again.’ Lizzy drew a breath. ‘That sounds very dramatic, doesn’t it? But that’s what it felt like. Have
you
ever felt that with someone?’ she asked, not waiting for an answer. ‘But while all that was going on with
me
, it turns out that
I
was just a stop-gap to him! What one might call’ – Lizzy winked at him horribly and did the quote marks – ‘“a filling-in-the-timer”.’