Chapter 3
THREE
It would never have occurred to me that I’d live somewhere beautiful. I’d never put the thought into words – not, Beautiful places aren’t for the likes of you, Livvie , or anything like that – but it had still become somehow internalised. Besides, I already had somewhere to live – that is, until I came to the realisation that I’d rather live anywhere at all than there. Well, almost anywhere.
I’d been renting the top right-hand bedroom in a house just off Mile End Road for three months by then. In the room opposite mine, on the other side of the landing, was Samantha and often Samantha’s boyfriend, Gary. Half a flight of stairs down was the back bedroom that was Amanda’s.
Even though we didn’t know one another, it should have worked. We should have become mates, borrowing each other’s hair straighteners and comparing hangovers while we cooked fry-ups on Saturday mornings. Or even if that didn’t happen, we could have rubbed along, barring the occasional row about who’d left hair in the plughole and who was late with their share of the rent.
But we didn’t. Not from the beginning.
It started a week or so after I moved in and never really stopped; something had made Samantha decide that Amanda was her friend and I wasn’t. When I arrived home from work, I’d find Samantha in the kitchen, either with Gary or Amanda or both of them. And always, when I walked in, they’d stop talking about whatever they’d been talking about, look at me for a second, then laugh.
I didn’t know what I’d done wrong, but clearly it was something. I did my best to ride it out, to rise above it, and so it took until March before things went from tense to explosive.
One morning, when I managed to catch Amanda alone, I tried asking her about it. It was a Saturday; I’d slept in – or not slept so much as lain in bed, listening carefully to the sounds of the house, trying to judge when it was safe to emerge from the refuge of my room, use the bathroom and go downstairs.
When I eventually did, I found Amanda there, eating toast and peanut butter at the kitchen table, apparently engrossed in Heat magazine.
‘Morning.’ I smiled. ‘Tea?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m all right.’
I flicked the kettle on, glancing at the open magazine next to her plate.
‘Oh my God, Jordan and Peter Andre,’ I exclaimed, although I couldn’t have cared less about either of them. ‘Do you think they’ll get married?’
‘Hope not,’ Amanda said. ‘She’s a slag and he’s too good for her.’
‘Maybe he’s what she needs,’ I suggested, pouring water on to a teabag. ‘Maybe he’d settle her down, and be a good dad for…’
My knowledge of the celebrity couple had run out.
‘Harvey,’ Amanda said.
‘Harvey,’ I echoed, taking a seat opposite her. ‘You up to anything fun today?’
A shadow of something flickered over Amanda’s face, and it was only when she spoke that I realised it was guilt.
‘Sam’s party tonight, innit,’ she said. ‘She and Gaz have gone out to buy booze.’
‘Oh.’ My voice came out sounding not like me. ‘I didn’t know… is it her birthday or something?’
Amanda shook her head. ‘Just having some mates round. It’s no big deal.’
Except it was a big deal – I hadn’t been told about it and I literally lived in the same house as her.
‘Is there…’ I began. ‘I mean, have I done something to annoy Samantha? She seems… I don’t know. Off with me.’
Amanda actually blushed, before muttering, ‘I dunno, Livvie.’
‘There must be something, though.’
‘I guess she thinks…’ Amanda looked cornered, and I had a flash of understanding of how she must feel. Samantha was the one with the power – the power to shut her out like she’d shut me out, to cut off her friendship as she had done with me.
‘Thinks what?’
‘Thinks you’re after Gary.’
‘I what?’ I burst out laughing. Gary, with his receding chin and his habit of standing over you with his crotch at your eye level, thumbs hooked into the belt loops of his jeans? Gary, whose snoring sometimes kept me awake at night? Gary, who was – even if none of the other things had been the case – my flatmate’s boyfriend?
‘Apparently he said something to her about you.’ Now Amanda had started, it seemed she thought she might as well carry on. ‘That he totally would, and maybe if someone gave you one you’d be a bit less standoffish.’
I suppressed a shudder of revulsion at the idea of being given one by Gary.
‘Look, Amanda,’ I said, ‘I couldn’t be less interested in him. Really. I just want us all to get along. Thanks for telling me, though. I won’t be here tonight – I’ll go out. I’ll try to talk to Sam in the morning. And have a great night, okay?’
I did as I’d promised. I texted my friend Emily and arranged to meet up with her that evening for a pizza and a movie, and only returned home just before midnight. A wall of noise greeted me – music, laughter, raised voices and the crash of a breaking bottle. Praying that no one had heard me come in, I made my way upstairs.
But I only made it as far as the landing. As I was passing, the bathroom door opened and Gary lurched out, a can of Carlsberg in his hand.
‘Evening,’ I muttered.
‘Where’ve you been?’ he demanded. ‘Wasn’t our house party good enough for you?’
‘I was out with a friend.’
‘Boyfriend? You look hot.’
I was wearing jeans, a jumper and Converse, and I certainly didn’t. I just said, ‘Thanks.’
‘Very hot.’ He took a step towards me and I stepped back, but the wall was in the way.
‘Thanks,’ I said again. ‘Anyway, have a good rest of the?—’
But before I could finish, he’d leaned in and kissed me.
It was horrible. I’d had my share of unwelcome snogs, of course, but this was up there with the worst of them. Gary smelled of stale Lynx, beer and fags. His stubble scraped my skin. The hand that wasn’t holding the beer can was pressed against the wall next to my head, trapping my hair.
I fought to escape and, after a few horrible seconds, I managed it. But I wasn’t quick enough.
As I snaked away from him, I heard Samantha’s voice calling from the stairs, ‘Gaz, where the hell are— What the fuck?’
Desperately, I ran the rest of the way to my room and ducked inside, locking the door behind me.