Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
SIXTEEN YEARS AGO
Victoria
‘Oh God, oh God, oh my God,’ she keeps repeating.
Her voice is muffled because she has her head between her knees so she doesn’t throw up again.
I can’t imagine there’s much left anyway.
I drive with an unreal feeling of hyper concentration, aware that I should not be in a car.
I have had way too much to drink. I keep checking to make sure I am going the exact speed limit, that I’m doing all the right things as my eyes flick up to the rear-view mirror over and over again while I scan for a police car.
Fifteen minutes after we have left Camilla’s house, or at least her parents’ house, Reese sits up, her nose running, her eyes red.
‘She didn’t mean it, did she? I mean it’s not possible.
It’s not possible, is it? Lawrence wouldn’t do that, would he?
Please, tell me this is not possible. My parents, oh God, my parents have spent so much money and my dad…
it was making him so happy. Oh God, pull over, pull over. ’
I swerve to the side of the road, grateful we are in the suburbs, and Reese grabs at the door handle, getting it open just in time so she can retch onto the sidewalk. I lean over, rubbing her back, still scanning for police. Finally, she sits up again and closes the door.
‘Okay?’ I ask. ‘It’s only another ten minutes to your place.’
She nods, hiccups and in the dim light I can see the shine of tears on her cheeks. I have never hated a person more than I hate Camilla right now.
By the time I park in the street outside Reese’s apartment building, I have a headache that defies logic. It is everywhere in my head. It’s a band around my forehead and a pounding at the back of my skull and a sharp knife behind one eye.
Together we make our way to the apartment where she fumbles for her keys, finally dropping them on the floor and sinking down, her tears a never-ending trail down her face. I grab mine from my bag and open the door but she doesn’t move.
‘I’m a bad person,’ she wails.
‘You?’ I ask, incredulous. ‘You’re nothing but nice and kind and Camilla is an evil bitch who hates the fact that anyone is happy because she’s so unhappy.’
‘No, no,’ says Reese. She’s hysterical and drunk and in despair. ‘I said mean things about Lawrence and so she knew that I didn’t… deserve him.’
I grab her arm to get her to stand and finally we are inside, safe, home.
‘That’s crap, Reese, just crap. She’s nasty and probably pissed off that she didn’t get into Cambridge. She’s always blamed everyone around her for her problems.’
She goes over to the sofa and sinks down and I grab a box of tissues for her. She needs a shower but I’m not going to suggest that now.
‘Maybe get some sleep. We can both get some sleep and then we can deal with this in the morning.’ The urge to call Lawrence and scream at him until I lose my voice rises inside me but I’m just sober enough to know how stupid that would be.
Reese is just as likely to forgive him this indiscretion as she is to call off the wedding.
At least she knows, I think, despite how terrible that is. It would be awful for her to have gotten married without knowing what her husband-to-be is capable of.
She may forgive him but there’s no way I’m ever going to forgive Camilla. Ugly thoughts roam through my head as I imagine her dying in a car accident, getting a horrifying disease, being in pain.
‘Don’t leave me,’ Reese cries as I go to the kitchen to get some water.
‘I’m not. I’m getting water and Panadol. I won’t leave you, I promise.’
But I can see when I return to the sofa that she is already nearly asleep. I ease off her shoes and lift her legs and then cover her with the knitted chocolate-brown throw she keeps there.
‘I want to die,’ she whispers. ‘I’m going to die. I’m a bad person.’
‘No, you’re not,’ I say but she is asleep. I want to shake her stupid words out of her. Only Reese would blame herself for someone else’s betrayal.
Will there be a wedding next week? It’s still possible, I guess.
I know what I think should happen. She can’t marry this guy. If he cheated once, he’ll do it again. And with one of her friends? What an arsehole.
I take three Panadol instead of two and drink down a glass of water and then I grab a throw pillow from the sofa and lie down on the floor instead of going to my room, where I have my stuff all packed up, ready to go.
I was supposed to be moving out of here while they were on honeymoon. I’ve already paid a rental deposit on a one-bedroom apartment near here.
But now I have no idea what’s going to happen.
As the Panadol kicks in and the pounding in my head subsides, I try to imagine tomorrow, next week, next year. Camilla has changed everything.
And that’s not something she can get away with.
I’ve always known she was a bitch but I don’t think she knows how awful I can be, too. I don’t think she has any idea about that at all.