Ralph's Party (25 page)

She tied it back again, making sure there were no ridges or tangles in it, and smoothed it down with

her hands. She felt calmer now.

1

Another car puled up outside. It wasn't him. paced the room again.

Fucking bastard. Fucking smuj Irish piece of shit. Cunt. Cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt. She was ready for him now. She stood at the window, waiting She saw the dark-haired man and the girl from down stairs leave the basement flat clutching cans of lager and laughing. Out for a normal Friday night - lucky them.

Come home, you bastard, come home, you bastard.

She tapped her fingernails on the windowsil. Come home.

Finaly, the familiar rumble of the old Embassy. She watched him slowing down, looking for a parking space, not finding one — good

— reversing back down the road with his chin on his shoulder and his arm over the passenger seat, into the space in one smooth movement — he'd always been a very good parker — reaching into the back seat to pul out his briefcase and a carrier bag from the off-licence, locking the door, striding up Almanac Road. Look at him, she thought, just look at him. Who the fuck does he think he is? Prick. Oh, yes, skipping up the stairs now with a bounce in his step. Cunt. She remained where she stood by the window and waited for the sound of his key in the door.

'Hi.' Bastard.

Silence for a second and then his voice from the halway.

'Shit. What's happened here? Shuv, where are you? Are you al right? What's this stuff doing al over the floor? Shuv? Shuv? Shit!'

He walked into the living room and a tiny pink-glass bauble crunched under his foot. He took a step sideways and looked around the room in horror. 'Jesus Christ, Shuv, what's happened?'

He

walked precariously towards her. 'Are you al right?' He reached out a hand to touch her arm. She jerked it away from her.

'Get your filthy hands off me. Don't you dare touch me!'

He backed off. 'Oh, Jesus, what's happened? Who did this? Has someone hurt you?'

Siobhan laughed bitterly. 'You could say that.'

Who? Tel me.' He attempted to touch her again.

'It's you, you revolting piece of shit. Get off me!'

'Me?' asked Karl incredulously. 'How?'

Tes- you! You'd love it if it was someone else, wouldn't you? Then you could get al angry and phone the police and roam the streets seeking revenge. But there's no one else to blame. I trashed the house and it's your fault, you fucking bastard.' She pushed him out of the way and stormed into the bedroom.

'What are you talking about? Shuv - please — talk to me.' He folowed her through the hal and into the bedroom. 'What've I done wrong?'

Siobhan turned to face him. Her face was red with anger. She slowly lifted her head up to the ceiling and pointed above her with a finger. She put her other hand on her hip and stared at him.

'What!?' asked Karl in exasperation. What the hel was going on?

This was insanity. Al day long he'd been looking forward to coming home. It had been a hectic, problem-ridden day of hassle upon hassle, but at the end of the tunnel were Siobhan and Rosanne and the flat and a blissful weekend of relaxation and warmth and television and the pub. Not this. What was this?

That!' she hissed, stil pointing upwards, 'that's what you've done wrong. That trashy little tart up there. In the office at the dance club, apparently ...'

Karl's jaw dropped and his heart began to hammer against his ribcage. This could not be happening. Not now. His mind hurtled through a milion possible responses in a couple of seconds. Denial?

Admittance? Tears? How the hel did she know? Had he left something lying around the flat? No. It must have been that venom-ous little bitch. She must have told her. Why? Why now after so long?

'Are you going to say something or are you just going to stand there looking like a retard? You know what I'm talking about, don't you?

You're not going to deny it, are you? I'd hate you even more than I already do if you did.' She folded her arms and regarded him with icy disdain.

Karl felt his stomach constrict and the contents swil around nauseatingly. He sat down heavily on the bed and exhaled a deep, painful breath. He had to find out how she knew.

'Shuv, oh, God, I... er ... who told you?' He looked at her desperately.

You did. You told me, you stupid fucking careless bastard. Here,'

she said, turning to walk out of the room, 'wait here.'

Karl heard the sound of glass and vinyl crunching underfoot as Siobhan walked through the living room. He felt, like people he'd heard on talk shows and films say a thousand times before, as if his world was faling apart. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that this was the worst thing that had ever happened to him.

Siobhan returned a second later holding something smal and silver in her hand: Rick's state-of-the-art tape recorder. Karl mentaly rewound and fast-forwarded through his memories until he found what he was looking for. That night at the chapel, when Siobhan and Rick had gone outside, he and Tamsin.

He heard Rick's voice in his head, word for word: This thing's briliant, it tapes for six hours.' Siobhan rewound the tape a little and pressed Play — it was Tamsin's voice, shril with bitterness and alcohol:
'you think no one knew about you and Cheri in the
office at the dance club? Did you think we were all stupid?!

Cheri told me all about it. All the sordid details. She told me
about the abortion, too -your baby that she had to get rid of...'

He screwed his eyes closed. How stupid. Oh, God, how painfuly stupid.

'OK, so now you know,' said Siobhan, waving the gadget at him.

'You fucking bastard.' She threw it on to the bed beside him. 'I want you to go, Karl. I want you to pack a bag, right now, this instant, and leave. I'm going to my mother's tomorrow. You can come and move back in then. I can't live under this roof any more, I can't share a roof with that whore. I don't want to talk about this and I don't ever, ever want to set eyes on you again.' She choked on her tears as she left the room, slamming the door behind her.

Karl sat numbly on the edge of the bed for a minute. This could not possibly be happening. His stomach churned and his head ached with tears that he was too shocked to set loose. This could not be happening. But it
was
happening. This was real. This was horribly, horribly real. He had to stop it!

He leapt to his feet and strode into the living room. Siobhan was sitting on the sofa, their new sofa, staring into space, Rosanne lying uncertainly across her lap, her eyes darting awkwardly around the room. Karl got

down on to his knees and began to colect smal shards" of coloured glass and black vinyl.

'Leave it, Karl!'

'It's dangerous,' he whispered. 'Rosanne might hurt her paws.'

Til do it,' Siobhan snapped, 'after you've gone. Talking of which -

can you please leave.' She wouldn't looks - him.

'Siobhan — please — can't we talk about this ... ?'

'Why on earth would I want to talk about this' Listen to your excuses. Hear al the sordid details. It-pathetic. You're pathetic!

Nothing means anything any more. Just go!'

'Oh, God, Siobhan! No! Please! Please don't do this I love you. I need you. I...'

'Oh, stop it, for God's sake, stop it—you sound pathetic Look, Karl, I mean it. I want you to go. I don't want to talk about it!'

Karl's face crumpled and he began to cry.

'Shuv - no!' He dragged himself on his knees to he feet and wrapped his arms around her legs, his whole body quaking with silent sobs. 'No ... no! I won't go.. it was nothing, it was a mistake, it was crap, rubbish, I was stupid, I was weak. It was ... al a huge mistake. I'm so sorry, so sorry ...'

The sight of Karl prostrate at her feet, crying, opened Siobhan up.

It broke through the cold hard shel she'd been determined to wear, and she started to cry too. 'I trusted you. I always trusted you. I asked you about her, remember, in Scotland? And you made me feel like a sily little girl. How could you?! I was honest with you, about Rick. Why couldn't you be honest with me too? That's what realy hurts. The lies. The dirty, ugly, stink ing lies. You made a mistake. I made a mistake. Why couldn't you admit it? And why, Karl - why did you do it? Because I was fat, that's why! "Oh, no, Shuv, you're beautiful, I love you whatever size you are." Bolocks! You lied to me! You must have thought I was so fucking stupid. I hate you, Karl, I hate you so much!' Tears flowed down her face and her shoulders heaved up and down. Karl gripped her legs even tighter and cried even harder.

Tm so sorry. I'm so sorry! Oh, God — what have I done?'

'Ruined everything, that's what you've done, you stupid cunt.' The unfamiliar word felt like poison spiling from her lips. 'Ruined absolutely everything.'

For a few moments they sat stock-stil, Karl stil wrapped around Siobhan's legs, crying so deeply and painfuly that neither of them could talk. Rosanne looked from one of them to the other, her dark eyes ful of concern and confusion. She whimpered quietly and snuffled at the top of Karl's head. Karl raised his head and looked up at her. He kissed the top of her head. He caught Siobhan's eye, the first eye contact they'd had since he'd got home. He knew what to do. His face brightened slightly. He took Siobhan's hand.

'It doesn't have to be ruined, Shuv. We can work on it. We're strong enough. We can get through this. Other couples couldn't.

We're not like other couples. We're special, we can get through this. I'l do anything it takes - anything. I'l move out for a while if that's what you want. But please, let's fight for it. We can't give up on this because of something so... so... stupid. If we gave up it would be the most tragic thing imaginable, we'd regret it for ever -

please.' He squeezed her hand tightly

and looked up at her pleadingly. Imagine it, Shuv. Us, not being together. Me, on my own here. You, somewhere else. Not together. Imagine what it would realy be like. Imagine it. We can't do it, we can't let that happen to us — can we?'

Siobhan looked down at him in her lap. She couldn't imagine it. It filed her with dread and pain. But she couldn't imagine making it work again either. She didn't trust him any more. He'd had sex with their neighbour, impregnated her, he'd lied to her, he wasn't the man she'd thought he was, the honest George Washington, incapable of teling a lie. How many other lies had there been? She would become an insecure wreck, worrying constantly when he was out of her sight, like one of those women she'd always pitied. She'd go through his jacket pockets, interrogate him about his activities, sniff the air for perfume when he came in from work, steam open suspicious-looking mail, eavesdrop on his telephone conversations, look for his love, his attention, al the time. She didn't want to become like that. She couldn't live with someone she didn't trust.

She'd rather be alone for the rest of her life. She looked away from Karl's intense gaze and withdrew her hand from his. Every muscle in his body was taut with anticipation. She shook her head sadly.

'No,' she said quietly, 'it's too late. It's over.'

Karl wailed. 'No! Please, God, no! Don't say that. It's not over, it'l never be over. We're soul mates. We have to be together, Siobhan, we just have to!'

She pushed him gently off her lap and stood up heavily.

'I don't trust you any more, Karl. I can't live with someone I don't trust. Now, please, I beg of you, pack a

bag and go. If you realy care about me you'l go. Please!' Very slowly, Karl got to his feet. 'Tomorrow,' he sighed, Til go tomorrow.' Siobhan shook her head again. He walked numbly to the bedroom while Siobhan waited in the living room, listening to the desolate sounds of cupboard doors opening and shutting, drawers being slid back and forth, the zipper being puled open around the circumference of Karl's suitcase, and then puled shut again. The saddest sounds she'd ever heard in her life. Her tears ran silently.

Karl stood slackly in the doorway, weighed down by his suitcase and his misery. Siobhan wanted to ask him where he was going but didn't let herself. That would be too caring, too personal, too ...

ordinary. She saw him for a second, as he'd looked skipping up the front steps just half an hour before, light-footed, ready for the weekend. In another world they'd be eating now, watching a video, drinking a bottle of wine, curled up together on the sofa, bathed in garish, twinkling reflections from the fairy lights on the Christmas tree they'd put up the weekend before. They'd discuss his show like they did every evening and Siobhan would tel him how the wedding plans were progressing. One of them would take Rosanne out for a walk and then they'd go to bed together, cuddle up in each other's arms for a while to get warm and fal asleep.

But this was a different world, a world in which she'd been bored in the afternoon and had found that little tape recorder of Rick's. She'd switched it on and enjoyed listening to it, laughing out loud to herself. Because she was cooking she hadn't switched it off at the end, she left it playing. And then everything had gone psychedelic.

She'd thought it was a joke at first, Tamsin and Karl messing around together, so she'd rewound it and played it again.

And then she was sick, physicaly sick, shivering and gasping and heaving over the toilet bowl. She'd splashed her face with cold water and the shock woke up the anger in her and she'd gone insane for quarter of an hour, destroying their home. This was the world she was in now. This was reality, Karl standing in the doorway with a suitcase about to leave home. The tears kept coming.

Til phone you later,' he said quietly.

'No,' she said. 'No. Don't phone me.'

Til phone you later,' he repeated. Rosanne jumped off the sofa and walked up to Karl. He crouched to hug her, muttering tear-stained farewels into her soft ears, and then he stood up, looked at Siobhan and walked out of the front door. The slam echoed around the barren flat.

Siobhan walked slowly to the window and watched him unlock the boot of the little black car, swing the suitcase in and then manoeuvre himself into the front seat before starting the engine and driving away.