Chapter 27 #2
‘Yeah, about that…’ Elle looked sheepish, yet another out-of-character facial expression for her.
‘Oh God, what now? You haven’t pitched it to The Sun , have you?’
‘No, nothing like that. But… it may very well end up being published by The Helix next December.’
‘How? I don’t understand. We’ll both be working elsewhere by then, surely?’
Elle climbed into the empty bathtub, which in usual circumstances would’ve been a strange thing to do but right now felt weirdly appropriate.
She lay back with her eyes closed and replied in a whisper.
‘I’m moving to New York, Mally. To work for The Helix there, instead. I’ve known about it for a while.’
‘Sorry, what?’
‘Back in the summer, I got approached by the US team. The new owner had heard good stuff about me. Made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. They’re paying for all three of us to relocate. We’ve found the cutest kindergarten for Frannie, and we’ve signed a lease on an amazing apartment in Brooklyn, too.’
‘That’s… amazing. Congratulations. But why didn’t you tell me this sooner?’
‘I literally couldn’t. They made me sign an NDA, because part of the reason why they wanted me to move over there was because of what was about to happen with the London office.’
‘Wait, you knew The Helix was shutting down in the UK?’
‘Yeah, I’m so sorry.’
‘Shit.’
I clambered into the bath with her, forcing Elle to tuck her long legs under her chin to create space.
‘Shit!’ I repeated. ‘You’re really leaving?’
‘Yeah, next month.’
My mind jumped back to what Rory had said to me after I’d stayed over at the start of the month – he’d seemed to be probing me about something unspoken. I’d assumed it’d been about the usual work stuff, but there’d been a whole extra layer I’d been oblivious to.
‘Next month? Jesus, Elle. What am I going to do without you all?’
We locked eyes, our broken faces – our shared histories – reflecting off each other. Elle grabbed my hands and started talking quickly.
‘But that’s the thing, this doesn’t have to be the end.
I’ve got it all figured out, and that’s why I’m here, to talk to you face to face.
You can move to New York, too! Not next month or anything, but once I’m there I can keep my ear to the ground for job leads.
And I can definitely commission you to write more stuff for The Helix as a freelancer – you’ve proven you’ve got the talent.
And then you can find an apartment near us and—’
‘Elle, stop. Please. I’m not going to move to New York.’
She released my hands. ‘But you’ve only just found out! Surely you need to think about it some more? Imagine how amazing it would be!’
‘I don’t need to think about it. If the last couple of weeks have taught me anything, it’s that I need to stay put. I need to fix things between me and Josh. I need to try and rebuild my family.’
She looked at me with wide eyes before standing up suddenly.
She battled with the shower curtain for a moment, clambered out of the bath and walked through to the kitchen.
I followed quickly behind. She was crying again.
Angry, furious tears that she removed any trace of as soon as they escaped.
She yanked open the fridge and grabbed a bottle of vodka from the freezer compartment, and downed a huge gulp.
‘As soon as you got this Scarnbrook idea in your head, I knew this would happen.’
I grabbed the bottle from her and took my own swig. ‘You knew what would happen?’
‘That you’d want to move back, even though there’s nothing left there for either of us any more.’
‘How do you know what’s there if you never look?’ I challenged, the harsh burn of the vodka emboldening me.
Elle sighed. ‘There’s no need for me to look. My life is here.’
‘And I respect that. But I’m a separate entity to you; I can make my own choices.’
Elle scoffed and flopped down on the sofa, but I kept talking.
‘You’ve honestly never been tempted to return?’
She shook her head. ‘Me and Scarnbrook are done, for good.’
‘Tell me why, Elle. I’ve never understood why you hated it there so much.’
Elle sighed, curling her legs underneath her and tucking herself into the corner of the sofa.
‘A ton of shit went down before I met you, Mally. Did you never wonder why my dad wasn’t on the scene when we moved next door?’
‘I always figured you’d tell me when you were ready but, well, you never did.’
‘That’s typical of you, though, isn’t it? You wait for things to happen to you, instead of making things happen for yourself.’
‘Ouch.’
‘Am I right, though?’
‘Perhaps. But we’re very different people. Not everyone has ambition and drive built into them. Some of us are happy to stay smaller.’
‘Yeah, well, I’m not prepared to stay small. I want to be as big as possible. I wanted to show him – Dad – he’d made the wrong choice.’
‘That he shouldn’t have left you and your mum?’
‘He didn’t just randomly leave us, Mally. We found out he had a whole other family. Another partner, two kids, a mortgage, package holidays overseas when we thought he was away for work – the whole shebang.’
‘Fuck. Fuck!’
‘Yep. And when Mum found out, she didn’t even give him an ultimatum. She just let him leave us. She allowed herself to be made small by him. And I promised myself I’d never reduce myself to that, for anyone. So there’s my villain origin story. Satisfied?’
‘Of course I’m not “satisfied”, Elle. And you’re not a “villain”, for fuck’s sake: you’re just a messed-up human, like the rest of us. All this stuff you’ve been dealing with is huge. I’m so sorry you’ve been carrying all of this for so long. Does Rory know?’
‘Yeah, he knows.’
‘Good.’
‘And I did want to tell you, so many times. But it was just easier for me not to.’
‘Sometimes the easiest choice isn’t the best choice, is it?’
‘I guess not.’
‘It wasn’t easy for me to go back to Scarnbrook, you know. In many ways, it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.’
‘So why did you want to go?’
I collapsed onto the sofa next to her. ‘For closure, maybe? I dunno. It just felt like the right thing to do after all this time.’
Elle nudged herself along the sofa and curled up next to me. ‘You really like Tom, don’t you?’
‘Yeah.’
Elle blew all the air out of her lungs, as if she’d been holding her breath for decades. Perhaps, in a way, both of us had been.
‘I just thought we’d moved on, you know?
But you were so insistent, so I got in touch with Ryan on Facebook to let him know you were going to be in the area, mainly so he could keep an eye out for you, at first. But then, well, my stupid fucking brain got to work and I got this idea to get him to set you up with someone for the article.
And I swear, Mally, the Darren thing was all I did.
But then you bumped into Tom and the two of you seemed to be hitting it off if Ryan’s reports were anything to go by, then you didn’t reply to me for days and I just…
couldn’t deal with that. I started to spiral. ’
‘Why did me getting along with Tom Brinton bother you so much?’ I asked, stroking her hair.
‘Because… I don’t want you to leave me. I want you to come with me . To New York.’
I heaved her into a sitting position and looked her in the eye. ‘You’re my best friend. You’ll always be in my life – and, trust me, I have absolutely no intention of moving back to Scarnbrook. But you shouldn’t be here. You should be with your family.’
‘You’re my family too, y’know.’
My breath caught in my throat before I responded. ‘I know.’
Neither of us spoke after that. There’d be plenty more to say down the line, but right now, sitting here together – both of us exposed and exhausted – was enough.
I reached for the remote control and switched the telly on. It was tuned to the Christmas movie channel, and – if the unfolding Christmas cookie decorating montage was anything to go by – the film had around two-thirds to go. Elle stared at the screen blankly, her wide eyes red-rimmed.
I opened the drinks cupboard underneath the TV and took out a bottle of sloe gin. I held it aloft in her direction and raised my eyebrows. She nodded grimly. I fetched two tumblers and poured us both decent measures, sitting down beside her.
I reached into my backpack and removed the bingo sheets I’d angrily stuffed inside back in Scarnbrook. I smoothed them out and grabbed a couple of pens from the coffee table drawer, marking fresh columns of tick boxes next to all the tropes. I handed her one of the sheets and a pen.
She remained silent, but as the film continued, the protagonists winning an ice-sculpting contest, we silently played, drinking the gin as we did so.
Just as we’d innocently done a couple of weeks ago before everything had shattered.
Elle eventually reclined to get more comfortable, resting her head in my lap.
I stroked her hair once more as the characters climbed onto the stage to accept their trophy, the woman making a heartfelt speech about having rediscovered the magic of Christmas before she and the chiselled chiseller kissed, dryly.
By the time the credits had finished rolling, Elle was asleep. I turned the TV off and sat with her for a few minutes longer to make sure she was properly conked out.
Eventually, I got up slowly, laid a blanket over her, crept into my bedroom and called Rory.
As soon as they’d left, I pulled on a screwed-up pair of pyjamas that had been under my pillow for goodness knows how long, clambered up onto my bed, wrapped myself up in my covers and turned out the light.
It was still way too early for bedtime, but the last twenty-four hours had felt like twenty-four days and I was exhausted.
But, just as my eyes started to close, my phone rang.
It was Josh. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d called me.
‘Josh? Hello?’
I thought the line had disconnected, but after a few seconds I heard a long, shaky breath.
‘You’re scaring me. Are you all right? Are Mum and Dad okay? Is Saskia with you?’