Chapter 22 Christopher #2
I’d be lying to her if I said I didn’t miss him. In fact, I’d been dreading coming back to London. Less because I’d have to see Mum, and more so because London reminds me so much of Dad.
Everywhere I turn, I see reminders of him.
The pubs that he’d drag Kelly and me into as kids so he could have a pint with his friends, while throwing us money to get squash and play pool.
The rides on the tubes and buses that he’d turn into adventures.
But the pain of that last interaction with him wiped those memories away.
And I’ve been running from them ever since.
I couldn’t even bear to be at his funeral. Everyone was coming up to me, offering their condolences, telling me he was a good man. A good man, who was just about to disown his son, if those stairs and his drinking problem hadn’t taken him out.
“Sometimes,” I say, letting out a sigh. “Do you?”
“I do.” Kelly lowers her head. “If he was here right now, he’d be able to calm Mum down. Tell her to wind her neck in and just let me get on with things.” Her voice is tinged with bittersweetness.
“Maybe we can slide an Ambien or two in her drink later to shut her up,” I say, laughing.
But Kelly is too lost in her thoughts.
The ice lolly drips down her fingers and onto the ground.
“Do you mind that it’s me walking you down the aisle and not Dad?” I ask, as we exit the park and follow the road back to the hotel. Kelly chucks the ice lolly into a bin.
I look down at my screwball and pull out the chewing gum at the bottom, throwing it in my mouth and the cup in the bin.
“You know I don’t buy into that bullshit. A man giving me away to another man, as if I’m someone else’s property to bestow upon another human. But I do wish he could be here to see me tomorrow.”
I get it.
I do.
I wrap my hand around her shoulder as the back entrance of the hotel comes back into sight. There’s a small gaggle of girls sitting on the pavement, talking among each other. Their signs are strewn across the floor.
No One Compares To You, Alexander.
You can be My Anchor.
They all look up in unison as we step over their cardboard signs.
“You’re with Alexander’s team, aren’t you?” One of the girls gets up, the others quickly following suit.
“Yeah, he was at Abbey Road,” another says.
My heart begins to beat more loudly as the doorman nods at us.
“How do you know Alexander?” a third questions, rushing around to stop in front of us.
Kelly instantly grabs my hand and drags me through the pack of girls.
“Leave my boyfriend alone!” Her voice carries as we enter the hotel.
Alexander’s publicist stands in front of us as we enter, a dumbfounded look on her face.
I drop my hand from Kelly’s. My whole body stiffens as she takes me in from head to toe.
“Boyfriend?” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a packet of cigarettes.
Quick.
Think.
She knows I’m gay, but this won’t quell her growing suspicion of me. Like a judge on a reality show, she’s clearly not amused at what she sees in front of her.
“This is my sister. I don’t believe you met her at the show the other night. Kelly, this is,” I desperately try to recall her name, “Bonnie.” I squeeze Kelly’s hip tightly, to ensure she doesn’t put her foot in it.
“Connie.” The woman instantly corrects me. Her face looks like a gremlin halfway through sneezing.
“Nice to meet you,” Kelly says, holding out her hand.
“Sure,” Connie says, looking at Kelly’s clammy hand and opting to pull a cigarette out of her pack instead.
“Suit yourself.” Kelly walks away, pushing the button for the elevator.
I force a smile on my face and follow Kelly as Connie exits the hotel.
Why must I be so bad at remembering names?
“Who was that bitch,” Kelly says, leaning up against the wall when the doors close.
“Alexander’s publicist.” I roll my eyes.
“Wow, she puts Miranda from the Devil Wears Prada to shame,” Kelly laughs as she attempts to do her best impression of That’s All. She waves her hand at the elevator door.
“So, have I been bumped off your home screen yet?” She reaches into my shorts pocket, trying to get at my phone.
“Get off me,” I say.
I push into her belly, forcing her back against the elevator wall, and Kelly immediately clutches her lower abdomen. The look in her eyes as she meets mine is not one of anger, but fear.
“You’re not!” I say, as the elevator doors open on the third floor. I hold the doors open as Kelly slowly moves forward.
Kelly’s a good liar, but she’s never been able to hide things from me. The way her nostrils flicker and her eyes shoot up to the right is a dead giveaway every time. That’s why it was always so easy to beat her when we played board games as children.
“It’s early days. We’re only six weeks pregnant.”
A smile forms on her face as she slowly lowers her hand.
“But I thought you couldn’t? That the doctor said it wouldn’t be possible with your condition.”
My mind flicks back to that night nearly ten years ago, when she found out that the root cause of her crippling menstrual pain wasn’t her digestive issues, but endometriosis, and that there was a strong likelihood she’d never be able to have children.
“That’s what I thought,” she says, stepping outside, and I follow. “But I peed on five sticks and all of them came back positive.” She shrugs her shoulders as she lifts her hands up.
“Oh my God, congratulations!” I say, being more careful this time as I embrace her. Then I catch our mother walking down the hallway toward us.
“Congratulations? Why on earth are you congratulating your sister? And why the hell aren’t you both dressed and downstairs for the welcome dinner.” An impatient sneer spreads across her face as she reaches us. Her teeth are bared like a pit bull ready to attack.
The sound of my mother’s disdain makes my toes curl.
“Give it a break, Mum. We’re not due down there until six, and it’s barely a quarter past five.” Kelly waves her away dismissively.
Thankfully, Kelly’s ninja skills extend to avoiding awkward questions and deflecting conversations, preventing our mum from probing any further.
“Well, you better get a move on, I don’t need either of you bringing the Foster name into disrepute because of your tardiness.” Her gaze locks firmly onto me.
Once.
It was once.
Okay twice. If we include lunch and the theater.
My forced smile pushes down the growing anger inside as she steps into the elevator and disappears.
“Right, I better head up to my room,” I say, reaching for the elevator button.
“Okay.” Kelly nods at me.
“I can’t believe I’m going to be an uncle!” I do a little jump for joy, like a fish out of water.
“Stop it!” Kelly whacks my arm and shakes her head as she makes her way in the opposite direction.
I immediately reach into my pocket to share the news, not with Stephen like I usually do, but with Alexander.
Less than three minutes later, I’m back in my hotel room, and I turn on the radio via my laptop. Alexander should be finding out about now if he is indeed number one.
I carry the laptop with me into the bathroom, the familiar sound of the Capital FM DJ Abbie McCarthy’s voice counting down the top ten songs as I strip out of my clothes and turn on the shower.
“Only two records remain in this week’s battle for the top spot. Will it be pop superstar Sabrina Carpenter with her latest single? Or will man-of-the-moment Alexander Morgan climb into the number one spot with his summer hit My Anchor?”
I can feel the tension building in my chest as I pull a towel from underneath the sink and hang it up next to the shower. I stick my hand inside and adjust the tap to turn the head down slightly.
“I can exclusively reveal that this week’s number two and runner-up on the UK singles chart is…”