Chapter 14
CLARA
We are sitting in the dim interior light of the car, parked just outside the dark, cavernous cave of the hotel’s underground garage.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Minty asks, looking in bewilderment at my phone with its cracked screen, no doubt wondering if he can fix it himself.
Cheeks streaked with tears, dress up around my knees in a scrunched mess, I’m no longer the fairy princess that I’d thought myself to be only hours earlier.
I am dishevelled, abandoned, and feeling used and na?ve.
I just let some rich, entitled, over-privileged womaniser have his way with me in a public place.
My cheeks burn with shame. It’s not just my phone that’s damaged goods.
I had rung Minty from the balcony, the mobile had at least held together for that.
I’d asked my brother if he could bring a car around to the back. He did.
‘What happened?’ he says, still scrutinising the pathetic phone with its dim, pleading lights emanating out through the damage.
‘I stood on it,’ I say glumly.
He shoots me a worried look. ‘Nah, C. I didn’t mean the phone. I mean the tears?’
‘It was a disaster.’
He nods as if this is oh-so predictable. ‘Music types. So, job’s gone belly up, it’s no strawberries in the fridge?’
Despite myself, I manage a small, sad smile, as I attempt to fight back the tears. ‘Sorry.’
He clears his throat, an irritated look flashing over his features. ‘But this guy, sis, he didn’t hurt you, did he?’ Minty peers at me in the mirror.
‘No, nothing. Not really.’ I grab a handful of hair and push it back up into the clip that once held it.
I need to get a grip. ‘I’ve just been a little bit foolish.
’ I sigh. ‘That’s it.’ It wasn’t entirely the truth, but my foolishness certainly has a good deal to do with the mess I’ve found myself in.
Minty shrugs. ‘My middle name’s “Foolish”.’
‘Well, that makes two of us. You’d have thought Mum and Dad would have been more inventive.’
He laughs. ‘Yeah, all that arty-farty stuff and still couldn’t sort us out a state-of-the-art middle name a piece.’
‘Some parents,’ I say with a smile.
‘You said it. Hey, you want to stop for a full fry-up?’
I could do with getting the dress back to Nelly. I shan’t be needing it again. But I can’t face Marco’s friends without backup. I love Nelly, but I know his loyalties will always be with his best mate, and I don’t even want to talk about Marco. It all feels too raw. I need somewhere neutral.
‘Brekky?’ I say, muscling a little optimism into my voice.
‘Oh, go on then.’ I manage to text Nelly, avoiding the crack in my phone screen.
I tell him we’ll be at Jack’s. It’s by the meat market.
They’re open all night. He can bring my clothes and I’ll give him back the frock.
I don’t want to have anything more to do with Marco and his entitled lifestyle.
* * *
‘Oh dear,’ Nelly says, flouncing into the café.
It’s the early hours of the morning. Dark outside. The smell of bacon and eggs lay heavily in the air.
‘Well, this is a first.’ Nelly looks around him apprehensively, dragging one finger across a Formica table. The place is immaculate. It may be a greasy spoon, but Jack keeps his tables clean and a floor you could eat off.
‘You, girl, have me popping up in all the most off-the-grid places. I’ve never had one of my gowns end up at a meat market before.’ He glances around him and places one finger on his long nose as though deep in thought. ‘It would make a wild place for a photoshoot,’ he mutters.
‘It was on the way home,’ I say, still feeling miserable.
‘You fancy a coffee, mate?’ Minty says. He’s standing at the counter.
Nelly’s eyes narrow. ‘With a tot of something spicy?’
Minty and Jack look blank.
Jack examines his stockpile of condiments. ‘I could do you a spot of sriracha in the mug, but it’s your funeral.’
‘Hmm, thanks, but…’ Nelly slides his backside onto the leather bench, whips out a flask. ‘I always come prepared.’ He turns his attention back to me. ‘So what happened?’
I sink my head into my hands. ‘It was a disaster.’
Nelly shrugs. ‘I figured. Brought you these.’ He slides a portfolio case onto the shiny red tabletop, flips it open and draws out his posh blue stationery. ‘You tried. I tried. You get the sayonara written, I’ll drop it off.’
‘Sorted,’ I say feebly.
‘Sorted,’ he confirms. ‘And… did anyone ask you about the dress?’
I shake my head feebly, failing to tell him that some woman had asked me if it was the fashion to wear dresses hooked up into your garter belt. I had left in a hurry! ‘No,’ I say simply.
‘Philistines,’ he states, equally simply. ‘Well, these are yours.’ He pulls my work clothes out from his bag. ‘Sorry, darling.’ Nelly ruffles my hair. ‘The man’s just not ready for love.’
‘I wasn’t…’ I protest.
‘Oh, but you so were. Shame.’ Nelly sighs. ‘It would have been a great match. Made in heaven. Marco just loves places like this. It’s his kind of hot sauce if you like.’
‘Coffee for you,’ Minty says, sliding a mug across the table towards Nelly.
‘Great.’ Nelly twists the neck of his flask and adds a slug of whisky. ‘Now you,’ Nelly says, fixing me with his deep brown eyes. ‘Get your clothes off.’
And surprisingly, although this is one of the most beautiful gowns I have ever worn, will most likely ever wear in my entire life, I can’t wait to get the thing off.
* * *
The next day, I can barely get out of bed let alone go to work. So, I feel a sense of satisfaction that my letter of resignation will be winding its way into the world without me.
‘What can I do?’ Minty asks, standing in the doorway to my room, wiping his hands on the apron I got him last Christmas.
‘Nothing,’ I say, throwing a pillow over the back of my head and burrowing into my mattress.
‘I’ll call the doctor,’ he says.
I don’t need a medic. All I really need is space in which I can feel foolish. ‘Seriously, Minty, I’m fine.’
He comes into the room, tiptoeing across the carpet, and lays one hand over my forehead. ‘You’re not hot. Then again…’ he pauses, mulling something over in his brain. ‘I think it has to go in the ear. That’s where you get the best readings.’
‘Nobody is sticking a finger in my ear,’ I say firmly. ‘Anyway, that’s taking a temperature with a thermometer, not with your hands.’
‘Ah, right,’ Minty says. ‘I always thought that was a bit unhygienic.’ He glances suspiciously at his own hands. ‘Oh, and by the way, you’ve had phone calls.’ Uninvited, Minty takes up a pew, sinking down at the edge of my bed.
Phone calls? I cringe. Could it be Marco? I don’t want to talk to Marco. He’s probably ringing to ask me where his stapler is. ‘Was it work?’ I ask, simply unable to not pick that wound. Even talking about him sets my whole body reeling.
‘Work, yes, one of the calls.’ Minty shoots his eyes up into his forehead as he attempts to remember all the details. ‘A lady called Betsy. She said you’ve got to work a week’s notice, and you’re best on reception.’
Well, at least that’s one blessing.
‘She also said she wanted to talk to you.’
My heart sinks. She must have seen the footage. Most likely they all know it was me who left the door open. I’m not in the mood for a showdown.
‘And the other call?’ I ask, nervously.
‘Evelyn.’ Minty smiles. ‘From the choir. She wanted to check if you’d be there tonight. Something about a solo?’
‘Oh, I can’t,’ I say, pulling the eiderdown up around my face.
Minty looks confused. ‘What did you do, sis?’ he asks gently. ‘You can tell me.’
But of course, that is absolutely not possible. I cannot tell my brother that I’ve had sex in what may have seemed a private grotto but is essentially a public space. A one-time rough and tumble with an arrogant shit of a music producer. No. That information would not go down well.
‘Whatever it is,’ Minty says kindly. ‘You need to stop beating yourself up over it. Life goes on.’
He’s right, of course.
‘Okay,’ I sigh. ‘Choir tonight.’
‘Great,’ Minty says brightly, pulling himself back up from my bed. Clearly relieved – as far as he’s concerned, I’m a job done. He can get back to his precious cars. ‘I’ll drive you over.’
* * *
MARCO
I feel bloody awful when I wake. The fragments of the night before come back to me like painful shards of a broken mirror, each piece seeming to taunt me.
After I’d got rid of Fitz’s parents, I searched everywhere for Clara.
But just like Cinderella, the woman appeared to have vanished into thin air.
There wasn’t even a shoe left on the hotel’s steps.
Although a handbag with her ID in would have been a lot more helpful.
I had no idea where she lived and couldn’t get into the HR records until the morning.
So I just ended up wandering the streets like a zombie.
Eventually, I must have wound my way back home and tumbled into bed in the early hours.