Chapter 2
2
DELILAH
Okay, when I said, ‘I need you to save my life,’ to my sister, I didn’t mean that literally, of course.
What I was actually asking was if Bea could step in and help protect my fledgling career and potential relationship with the guy I can picture myself marrying one day.
So, no real pressure then.
‘I know it’s a huge ask,’ I say to her when she arrives a few minutes after we end our call and gets into my car, where I’m still sitting, trying not to panic about what this injury could mean.
‘It’s more than huge, Dee.’
I give my sister a beseeching smile. She’s such a good person and I hate to take advantage of her kindness, but I swear I wouldn’t ask this of her if it wasn’t incredibly important to me. I feel like I’m finally getting somewhere and I’m desperate not to mess it up now.
‘This job could be – probably will be – the springboard to the rest of my life. It feels like a turning point. I’m not like you, Bea; I don’t have the smarts and qualifications to aim for a high-flying career that’ll pay off my student loans. I was lucky to get this job: right place at the right time,’ I lie, willing my face not to show it. ‘I’ll never get the opportunity of a position like this one again with my current meagre job experience in temping and cleaning. This role actually pays me a wage I can live on and it’ll give me something impressive to put on my CV in case I don’t manage to make it as an artist. It’s an amazing opportunity for me; you get that, right?’ I plead.
She’s not looking at me, just staring at the dashboard in front of her.
I turn to fully face her and put my hands together in a prayer-like gesture. ‘All I’m asking is that you turn up to my work today and make sure nothing goes wrong with the corporate event we’re hosting. It should be really straightforward. It’s just,’ I take a steadying breath, ‘it’s for one of my boss’s friends, so it has to go smoothly. At least, he’s made it very clear that it needs to.’
Bea shoots me a look of deep concern, her brow furrowed.
‘What do you mean? Is your job in jeopardy?’
My anxiety intensifies. I can’t believe I’m dragging her into another one of my messes.
Why do these things always happen to me?
I lower my hands to my lap and link my fingers together to stop them visibly trembling. ‘Um, well, yes, kind of. There’s actually something I didn’t tell you,’ I say, the shame I’ve been keeping locked down for the last few days starting to trickle through me like ice water through my veins.
‘The thing is,’ I take another breath, ‘I was so determined to get the position, I kind of stretched the truth a little about my suitability for it. I… er… might have used your qualifications as inspiration… a little bit.’ I clear my throat, then rush on before Bea has a chance to say anything. ‘I thought I’d be fine learning on the job and that I could ask you for some pointers if I started to struggle.’ I glance at her, then look quickly away when I see the look of horror on her face.
‘Oh, Dee, seriously? You lied on your CV?’ she says.
Heat rushes to my face. ‘Okay, Golden Child, I know it wasn’t a great move, but you don’t need to take everything so seriously. Chill out a bit.’
She opens her mouth to protest, but I just barrel on, desperately trying to recover from my faux pas.
‘And anyway, I didn’t lie exactly. I just fluffed it up a little. Embellished a few details, but the bones of it are all me. Everyone does it. And I wanted that job so badly. I need to be able to prove to myself that I can take on a responsible role and stick with it this time.’ I take a fortifying breath. ‘And it could lead on to all kinds of opportunities, especially when I’m mixing with the type of people who can afford to come to the hotel. People who can pay proper money for art. I was hoping to persuade Jonah to let me hang some of my pictures in the rooms with a view to selling them to guests. It’s all about getting your work under the right noses. I have a whole plan worked out. It’s a real win-win. I could paint and also be paid a good living wage from doing this job, just till I’ve made a name for myself. Trouble is, I’ve made a couple of rookie mistakes so I’m on a final warning. I swear though, Bea, they were only tiny things. He’s a real perfectionist. I’ve been doing better in the last few days, but this will be the last straw for him.’
She blinks at me, looking baffled by this. ‘Surely you can tell him you had an accident and you need to get checked out at the hospital though. He’s got to understand that.’
I feel hot and panicky at the thought of how that conversation would go. ‘I very much doubt it. I’m really not his favourite person at the moment and I’m worried he’ll use this as an excuse for me not to pass my probation period if I don’t turn up today.’
The exasperated huff she lets out tells me she’s not entirely on board yet. Clearly, I need to lay it on the line for her, no matter how humiliating it is for me to admit it out loud.
‘Please, Bea. It meant so much to me when Dad finally said, “Well done,” to me for getting this job. I need to keep it so I don’t have to go to him, cap in hand, and tell him that I failed and that he was wrong to be proud of me,’ I say. ‘That I’m the failure he always suspected I’d be and that I need his hand-outs after all.’
A shiver runs through me at the very idea of this and I feel the tears I’ve been keeping at bay for the last couple of months start to press dangerously at the back of my eyes.
Seeing me on the brink of a breakdown seems to get through to her because she reaches over and pulls me against her body, wrapping her arms around me.
‘I know. I get it. He can be a real tyrant, but he just wants the best for you,’ she whispers into my hair.
I nod against her shoulder, but her kindness, along with the shock of my accident and the residual savage ache it’s left in my ankle all culminate in a wave of sorrow and frustration so strong, I let out an involuntary, loud sob.
‘Oh, Dee, don’t cry,’ she says, leaning back and using her thumbs to wipe away the tears that are now cascading down my cheeks.
‘I’ve… been trying… so hard,’ I say to her, in a broken voice, between sobs, ‘but no matter what I do, it’s never enough. I’m not like you, Bea. Something always bloody trips me up!’
‘I know, I know,’ she soothes. She’s an amazing sister, even if she does drive me crazy with her perfection some days. In fact, I’d probably hate her if she wasn’t such a lovely human being.
‘Okay,’ she says, giving me a reassuring smile. ‘I’ll go to the hotel for you today and make sure everything goes smoothly, but you’ll need to give me a full run-down of what to expect and be available on the phone if I have any questions. Okay?’
Pulling her back, hard against me, I wrap my arms tightly around her, relief flooding through me. I try not to feel bad about the tense way she’s holding herself now.
‘Thank you! Thank you!’ I whisper, leaning back to look her in the eye. ‘I’ll make it up to you somehow, I swear.’
My sister smiles at me, but I can tell from her expression that she can’t think of any way in which she’ll ever need my help. Her life is too organised for that. She’d never be put on a warning for anything.
Untangling herself from me, she slaps her hands onto her knees. ‘Right. I’m going to drive you to the hospital so you can get your ankle checked. You can tell me what needs to happen today on the way there. Then I’ll nip back to your flat and borrow some of your clothes so no-one will turn a hair when I walk in as you.’
Something occurs to me when I hear the word ‘hair’. ‘Uh, Bea. What are you going to do about your hair?’ I gesture to my chin length bob, then to her long swathe of locks.
Her eyes widen and her face seems to pale a little at this complication. ‘Ah. Yeah. I’d not thought about that. I’ll have to pretend I’m wearing a wig, or tuck it in or something.’
The scepticism I feel must show on my face though because her cheeks flush and the expression in her eyes turns a little wild.
‘Don’t worry about that now,’ she says. ‘I’ll figure something out.’
I push away the surge of guilt I feel about putting her out like this. I know she’ll find the perfect way to deal with everything though. It’s her God-given gift.
‘Thanks, Bea. You’re a superstar. I love you. You know that, right?’
She just nods once, then puts her hand out for my car key, which I pass to her. ‘I know. I love you too.’
This time, the reassuring hug she pulls me in for is full of the warmth I crave.
I breathe in the familiar, sweet scent of her. My lovely sister. My rock. She smells like home and comfort. Sanctuary.
What would I do without her?
Pulling away, she looks me right in the eye, the practical Bea fully back in evidence. ‘Don’t worry. It’s going to be fine,’ she says.
I swallow hard.
Bea’s very rarely wrong about anything and I silently pray that this time isn’t going to prove to be the exception to the rule.