Chapter 20
I turn on my heels and run. Only, I’m in a fucking maze and the more desperate I am to get out of there, to unhear what I just heard, the more lost I get. Tears cloud my vision as I stumble through the narrow pathways, my legs feeling heavy, and I trip over a loose shoelace on one of my trainers.
I tumble into a hedge, a painful, slicing sensation across my face as a sharp edge of bramble cuts into my cheek.
‘Argh,’ I shout, angry now as I push myself back up, force myself to carry on. I touch my face and there’s blood on my fingertips but I don’t care. I keep going.
I run down one dead end after another and every time I turn a corner, I’m petrified I’m going to bump into them by accident. The last thing I need.
Eventually I find the exit and I don’t look back.
I don’t look back even as I pull my phone out of my bag, dial the only number I can think of that will help right now. Carl Vomitorium on Wheels. I’m so focused on getting out of here, so relieved that taxi driver Carl says he isn’t that far away. He can be here in ten. I can’t face walking back through the main hotel, can’t even deal with seeing Em right now. I don’t want to have to explain, or talk. Suddenly the hotel feels too cloying, too claustrophobic. All I can see are perfectly manicured gardens, the smiling faces of guests in towelling robes. All I can smell is that luxurious hotel scent that seemed so inviting at first. All I can hear is the gentle sound of jazz music being piped through the speakers in the grounds. And I need space from everything.
‘Alreet, pet,’ says Carl as his shiny blue car screeches to a halt outside on the drive. ‘No sick stains today, you’ll be pleased to know!’ he adds cheerily, his face falling when he sees the state of me. ‘Christ alive, what happened to you?’
I slump into the backseat.
‘Sorry,’ I sniff, swiping at my face with the back of my hand, which comes back covered in blood.
Carl hands me some tissues.
‘No need to apologise, pet, although if you get that on the leather there will be a surcharge,’ he says, with a note of guilt in his voice. ‘But don’t worry about that. Where to?’
God, where do I want to go to? Home isn’t home anymore. Besides, Otis might not even be out of my flat yet and even if he were, I definitely can’t afford a taxi ride all the way back to Carpston. All of my stuff is here, my friends, my … No, not Luke. It doesn’t matter about him anymore.
I think about the drive over here, how we wended our way through that pretty little town, how it had a pub in it. Somewhere I can hide for the day and drown my sorrows.
‘That town we drove through on Friday, the one where you grew up?’ I say, my voice sounding heavy, sluggish through sadness.
Carl nods, eyeing me in the rear-view mirror.
‘What happened to your opponent, then?’ he asks.
And that’s when I burst into tears.
I cry all the way to town where Carl drops me off. I walk along the clifftops first, looking out over the sea, the wind buffering my body. And when the local pub opens, I remember what Carl said about their whisky selection so I order a whisky on the rocks and cry into that too.
Only when the astringent heat of the alcohol hits my bloodstream do I stop crying, and that’s when I start to get angry.
Because, oh my god , what a total a-hole, I think as I sit slumped in the corner of the pub, nursing my drink. What a complete jerk. Did Luke think we were just going to, what, hook up behind his girlfriend’s back? Absolutely URGH. I cannot believe him! I’m so cross I could scream, only the bartender’s already giving me a wary look so instead I ball my hands into fists and press so hard that my nails leave little crescent moon imprints on my skin.
Trust me to fall for yet another inappropriate man. What is wrong with me? I knew, I knew , this was a bad idea. I can’t trust my own stupid feelings, can I? This is cold hard proof of that. I’ve got no clue. How silly of me! Of course someone like Luke wouldn’t actually, properly like someone like me. I knew, deep down, that it didn’t make sense. Only I let myself believe it for too long and now I feel completely gutted, and foolish, and hot tears are falling from my eyes so fast I can’t see straight.
Dita was right. Poor, stupid Yessica.
No doubt to Luke I was just some low-hanging fruit. Easy to pick off, just as easy to throw away.
I peel the corners away from the beer mat, feeling so foolish.
For a while there, I’d dared to hope that Luke was going to be a part of my new chapter. There he was, all beautiful like a Roman god with kind eyes and nice words and, bloody fireworks . No one has made me feel that way before. And I took it as a sign that Em was right, that this Saturn Return thing maybe was happening for me. A chance to start afresh. Instead of living my life for other people – Mum, Dad, my boring ex-boyfriends – I was going to live it for me.
But no. Steel-eyed boys are where danger lies. The man I cannot take my eyes off has a girlfriend in America, who Stella thinks is perfect for him, whom he’s loved for four years, and who wears latex to airports and is called Brie .
URGH.
I can’t believe he invited me back to his after the barbecue, and how much willpower it took for me not to go. But I wanted to do the right thing, to talk to Stella first. Meanwhile, he couldn’t have been less concerned about doing the right thing; he was too busy cheating on his partner. It’s almost laughable, when I think about it. Almost. I’m sure, in time, I’ll come to see this as a lucky escape. Thank god I didn’t sleep with him. But right now it’s all so raw.
I spin the whisky tumbler around in my hand, running a finger over the hard glass edges. Maybe Bryan was right. Maybe I should put this silly pretence to an end and get back to the real world. Go back to my job, make the most of the new salary he’s offered. I wince when I think how much I spent in the hotel shop on beautiful clothes just to impress Luke. What an idiot I am. I cringe hard at that thought, furious with myself for making so many stupid choices.
So, should I go back with my tail between my legs? I could go back to the flat. Who am I to be making such grand gestures, anyway? I should have started smaller. Maybe dyed my hair or got a tattoo, not quit my entire life and fall for a heartbreaker.
I order another whisky.
Head outside to sit on a picnic bench in the beer garden, looking out to sea.
The beauty of the day jars hard against my mental state. The waves are peaceful. The sound of seagulls carried on a gentle breeze. I look down at my white T-shirt, drops of cherry red blood seeped into it from the cut on my face.
Here I am, covered in stains again.
Only this one looks much harder to wash out.
The pub starts to fill up at lunchtime and I find myself being taken under the wing of a group of retired people who’ve just finished a long coastal walk. Despite the warm day, they’re wrapped up in layers and start discarding their coats as soon as they find a spot in the pub garden, which is shaded from the wind, the sun beating down on us.
‘This looks like heartbreak to me,’ a kindly woman wearing a sweatband around her head calls over. ‘Would you like to sit with us?’
I’m at the why-not stage of drinking so I shuffle over to their picnic bench and they introduce themselves as Anita, Peter and his wife Rita.
‘We know our names rhyme.’ Peter chuckles when he spots my confused face.
‘Oh good. I thought I was more drunk than I actually am for a minute there,’ I say. ‘I’m Jess.’
‘Would you like to talk about it, Jess?’ asks Rita, the one in the sweatband. ‘The heartbreak?’
‘How did you know?’ I whisper, sitting down under a parasol. ‘Are you psychic?’
Rita smiles. ‘No, love, I’m just very wise.’
‘Very old, you mean,’ says Anita, chortling. ‘I can make that joke because I’m older than Rita by a year,’ she adds to me. ‘Eighty-one!’
I hope I’m still wearing sweatbands in my eighties, I think vaguely.
‘You’re right,’ I say. ‘I met this guy a few days ago and I really liked him. Like, a lot. I even bought a beautiful new swimming costume so we could go for this midnight swim, and then things seemed to be hotting up, and then this morning I overheard him talking about his American girlfriend,’ I add with a long sigh. ‘So, he’s been cheating on her, with me, which does not make me feel great, Anita, Rita and Peter.’
Peter nods sagely.
‘You can’t beat a new swimming costume,’ says Anita. ‘Did you go for a high leg? I used to love those, always made your legs look incredibly long. These days I buy costumes with depressing things in the title like “tummy control” but I look back fondly on those high leg days.’
‘Erm, it did have quite high legs,’ I say, about to launch into a full description of the costume.
‘Anita!’ snaps Rita. ‘Now is not the time for waffling on about swimwear! Poor Jess is in romantic turmoil!’
‘It’s okay—’
‘Poor love,’ Rita says, taking a sip of her sherry. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Very sad, and cross with myself, and cross with him, and also a bit tipsy now,’ I admit.
‘Understandable,’ says Peter.
‘Maybe you shouldn’t jump to conclusions,’ suggests Anita.
‘Maybe she should,’ huffs Rita. ‘They are all at it, men.’ Peter looks a bit miffed at this.
‘Well, hang on, Rita. Jess said she overheard him talking about his girlfriend,’ Anita says, turning her attention to me. ‘Could you have heard him wrong? This might be a lot of fuss for nothing, after all. No big deal.’
‘Hmm,’ I say, mouth now on fire thanks to many midday whiskys. ‘Maybe you’re right, maybe this is not a big deal. I let myself be ruled by my heart for a week and I got in a pickle and that’s … fine. A valuable life lesson, right? You know, the hotel we’re staying in advocates a “whole life cleanse”.’
Peter scoffs at the words ‘whole life cleanse’ and I offer up a watery smile, trying not to feel too silly. The things is, though, the hotel has got the right idea. I’m meant to be getting rid of complications, not adding them in! I literally already knew this and I’m so cross with myself for getting distracted by Luke, and bitterly disappointed that I misjudged someone again.
I mean, seriously, what is wrong with my good human-being radar? Did I just get lucky early with Stella and Em? Maybe this is the cosmos’s way of telling me I’m extremely fortunate to have two beautiful humans in my life already. Not to mention Mum and Dad, of course. I should be counting my blessings, not crushing over boys who are actually quite mean, when you think about it. Why would Luke lie to me like that? And why, when I think about him, do I feel this longing to be in his presence even now that I know what he’s done?
YUK.
This is why I don’t let myself develop feelings for beautiful boys. Or any boys, if I’m being honest. This is precisely why I’m doing just fine on my own.
‘Eff you, Luke,’ I mutter darkly, as Peter pushes a plate of chips my way.
‘Chips always help,’ he says kindly, as my phone begins to ring.
‘Where are you?’ barks Em, who is not usually a barker so I immediately know that something’s wrong. Thankfully my good friend whisky has taken the edge off so I don’t flinch too hard as she starts talking with some urgency down the phone.
‘I’m with my new friends Anita, Peter and Rita,’ I reply, head swaying a little.
‘ARE YOU DRUNK?’ Em is shouting now. ‘Stop that immediately, Jessie, and tell me where you are. Luke is here.’
‘Nope.’ I hold my palm out wide, even though she can’t see me, in the ultimate ‘stop’ move. ‘Not Luke. Never again.’
‘Jessie, wait! You need to listen.’
‘I’ve done enough listening, Em,’ I snap. ‘I’ve listened to you going on about this Saturn Returns like it’s an exciting thing to happen and I got all buoyed up and thought it would be great and now bloody look at me! Drunk and sad and eating chips, Emerald!’
There’s a long pause and I brace myself for some sharp words in response.
‘Jessie? You’re breaking up … Where are you? Luke … in the maze … WRONG, JESSIE!’
‘I know I was wrong! You don’t need to give me a lecture about it.’ I huff.
‘What? Did … hear that? Can … back, Jessie. Where …’
‘I can’t hear you!’ I shout back. ‘There’s no reception.’
‘Wait … coming,’ she replies. What does that even mean? I wonder, flinging my phone down on the table and stuffing five chips into my mouth all in one go.
Anita watches me with concern.
‘I think she’s going to need a parmo as well,’ says Rita mysteriously.
I look up with a raised eyebrow. What is she talking about?