CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Raina ate a bowl of soup on the floor of her bedroom, tucked into a corner with a blanket over her legs.
She’d been deeply embedded in neurodivergent hyper-focus, trying to lose herself in work.
She’d even started calling her accountant to check on financial matters.
Unfortunately, one of the downsides of fixating on tasks meant forgetting to eat.
It was four in the afternoon, and both Pepper and Solana had been texting to make sure that she remembered to get something in her stomach.
She just wanted to work. To read a stack of books. To go out and adopt a dog. To watch terrible television programmes that forced her brain to disengage from the world.
A broken heart made her wish and want for the absence of feeling. She wished it could just disappear as you deleted the messages, muted the phone calls.
This felt different to before. Raina hated how much she wanted to listen to his voicemails.
Even while the pain had ripped through her, she’d heard his vehement anger at Ottie’s treatment of her. His outrage at what had occurred. He’d defended her. Tried to protect her.
She just couldn’t bear the fact that he’d possibly lit the powder.
Everyone’s battling to figure out a way to be different in this world, she thought. All I’ve ever wanted is to be just like everyone else. I killed myself trying to be just like everyone else.
She could feel tears smarting, so she stared up at the bright skylight, blinking them away.
You turn the poison people feed you into a remedy. And you take it regularly. But you never forget. So, when the man you’re falling in love with has curated all of the horrible things the world has said about you and they somehow get shouted at you during a stupid, rich-people party . . .
She checked Solana’s latest text: I spoke to Mirren (the sister). This is killing him, Raina.
Of course it’s killing him, Raina thought. That was his first run-in with ableism. But it wasn’t mine.
The next day, Raina forbade herself from wallowing.
She went for a terrifying spin class with Pepper.
There was something about pushing her body through the discomfort of a dark room full of people cycling like maniacs to pop music that was therapeutic.
An instructor who looked like a swimwear model stood on a podium and yelled aggressively inspiring things at them.
‘Pedal for the life you want!’
Raina hid her face from view, looking at her feet which were strapped to the bike with no mercy. She kept peddling but was also laughing. The music was too loud for her to be heard. She pushed every negative emotion into her muscles and the laughter turned to a shout.
She and Pepper lay on the cool floor of the changing room when it was over.
‘I feel mentally ready to kill somebody,’ Pepper said dazedly, ‘but physically incapable of moving.’
‘Thanks. We’ll paint that on the front window,’ the instructor said sardonically, stepping over the two of them to get to the showers.
‘I can’t feel my calves,’ Raina breathed, staring at the ceiling. ‘Is that . . . is that good?’
The two of them supported each other as they hobbled to the taxi.
‘Notting Hill, please,’ Pepper commanded.
‘Huh?’ Raina threw her a look. ‘We going to yours?’
‘Tonight’s your big night.’
‘Yes, hence why I thought it would be a good idea to go to my house, where the dress is.’
‘I got Solana to drop it off.’
‘You crafty minxes.’
‘It’s your big night; we’re here as your servants.’
Raina laughed. Then, as the car set off through London towards Pepper’s neighbourhood, she asked a question that had been bothering her for the past couple of days. ‘How did he . . .? Did he get home all right?’
For a moment, it looked as though Pepper was about to pretend she didn’t know whom Raina meant. Then she sighed. ‘Dexter gave him a ride back to London.’
‘Oh.’
‘Not that I’m on his side in any way, shape or form,’ Pepper said, in a voice and demeanour that screamed ‘against my better judgement’.
‘But he basically told Seb and Ottie he was done with them. He broke Seb’s nose, I think.
I was watching from upstairs. I really thought they were about to scrap but I reckon he’s too big for Seb to take. ’
Raina let that information settle. ‘Fuck.’
‘Yeah.’
Raina took some hand cream out of her bag and started nervously massaging it into her palms. ‘Solana thinks I should forgive him.’
‘Well, she’s an overly romantic baby,’ Pepper said dismissively. ‘She’ll learn.’
‘What’s this fella done?’ the cab driver asked bluntly, his voice cutting through the slightly awkward silence in the cab.
‘Oh, get into this,’ Pepper said, leaning forward. ‘He’s been writing an article about her while they were dating. Had a ton of nasty stuff about her written on his wall.’
The cab driver whistled.
‘That’s not entirely accurate,’ Raina heard herself say. ‘Some of those quotes, they didn’t even sound like him.’
‘Has he apologized?’ asked the cabbie.
‘Yes,’ Raina replied honestly. ‘And I have about fifty missed calls.’
Plus, three voicemails she’d deleted.
‘If he really wants you, he won’t stop or give up,’ the cabbie said, in what he probably thought was a reassuring voice.
‘Why do things men think are romantic so often sound like a crime?’ Raina muttered. ‘I want him to give up. What we had wasn’t real.’
Liar.
‘Well . . .’
She turned to stare at Pepper. ‘Well? From you, there’s a “well”!’
‘Look, I have his face on a dartboard, as you know. But you can’t say that. You didn’t see him after you were gone.’
‘He was probably just embarrassed or worried about his story.’
‘Honey, he’s got that story whether you like it or not. He doesn’t need you, to file it. If that’s even what’s happening. So, why did he look so destroyed?’
‘Exactly,’ the cabbie said. ‘He clearly wants you back. He knows he’s duffed it up. That’s why he’s calling you so much.’
‘Yes, thank you for your input, sir,’ Raina said, tapping her temple.
Pepper cleared her throat and then spoke in a serious and strangely humble tone.
‘As someone who stupidly and selfishly humiliated you recently, Raina, I have to say: it might be unfair to punish the man for having evil friends . . . who he has now cut out. Dex said he was a dead man walking.’
Raina stared. ‘You’re speaking to Dexter?’
Pepper flushed and glanced away. ‘Yeah, I am. And let me tell you, me to you . . . forgiveness – it’s a hell of a thing, Rai. Honest to God.’
‘Is this writer guy the real deal then?’ asked the driver.
‘Like, I didn’t really like this guy from the jump,’ Pepper told the driver, as if they’d been gossip pals for ever. ‘I’ve not liked any of her beaus. But he’s got a fire that the others didn’t have.’
‘How much longer? Maybe I’ll walk,’ Raina said desperately.
‘It’s a tough world to make mistakes in now,’ the driver said despondently. ‘And you know best, miss. You know, deep down, if he’s gone too far. This is a new age – men don’t get to mess you about.’
‘Right on,’ Pepper said, sliding on some sunglasses.
‘But I watch the news, me. Every night. And I get a lot of different people in this cab. Celebrities, working folk, housewives, businessmen and -women. All sorts. With all the terrible things in the papers now, I know one thing all of those different people have in common. No one gets to the end of their life, whenever that is, and thinks I’m so glad I walked away from love.
Abuse, pain, terrible stuff – sure. But not love. ’
Raina drew in a sharp breath and rolled down the window, letting the air hit her eyes as she screwed them up in a desperate attempt to ward off tears.
‘Are you driving anyone at half past six tonight?’ Pepper asked the cabbie.
‘Not yet, miss.’
‘Good. Can you pick us up from the address we’re going to?’
‘Where you headed?’
Pepper reached across to squeeze her best friend’s arm. Raina smiled wetly at the gesture and then laughed. ‘We’re going to an awards show.’
‘Hi, Solana,’ Tom spoke to Solana’s voicemail because he’d worn out Raina’s.
‘Can you please make sure she eats? She forgets a lot. When she has too much on her mind. And she has so much on her mind. She answers, like, one hundred emails a day on top of her job and . . . and everything else. Please. Just cook her something, anything. Thanks. And sorry. Bye.’
He hung up.
Tom had a lot of calls to make. He kept trying Raina, but the lack of communication was communication in itself. She obviously didn’t want to hear from him. Not a bit of him blamed her. Instead, he wrote a list of names. Tori, Ben, Mirren. He had a whole host of people he needed to contact.
He also had an entirely new piece to write. From scratch. The board was torn down and the document was blank, completely fresh. A page like new-fallen snow just waiting for footprints to give it some direction and a person pushing through the mass to reach something better.
He was about to try his sister again when his landline rang. He leapt across the room to answer it, knowing exactly which voice he wanted to hear on the other end.
‘Tom Branimir?’
It wasn’t her. It was someone with a toffee-nosed accent and an impatient tone.
‘Amanda Nolan.’
The name was vaguely familiar, but Tom didn’t care to network over the phone. ‘Yes?’
‘We met at the London Bridge building Christmas party? Your publishers’?’
‘I’m sure. Can I help you?’
There was a moment of stunned confusion on the other end of the line. ‘I’m calling for comment about Raina Lewis.’
Tom almost broke the phone. ‘What? Why?’
‘I’m dabbling with the idea of writing a piece about her. Since the Mondays announcement, she’s come to my attention. And getting information from her was like pulling blood from a stone. Plus, she was horribly vulgar.’
Good, Tom thought. ‘She’s the best person I know. Print that.’
‘I— Excuse me?’