All Tomorrow's Parties (17 page)

“Three days”, he tried to smile.

Tony had only left Laine’s bedside when her mum and sister visited each day. He could not bear the thought of her waking up and his not being there.

Even when Danny had arrived he had stayed, making the situation somewhat awkward. He had felt a sense of duty towards Danny and had agonised about calling him. He had done the right thing for once: bad enough he had slept with Laine whilst she was still with Danny. Neither of them made eye contact; they were both there because they loved her. The elephant in the room was being duly avoided. After all, whose baby had it been - his or Danny’s? Maybe Laine didn’t even know. But these were not questions for now, Laine needed to fully recover.

Danny curtly asked to be kept updated on Laine’s recovery, for which he received a civil nod from Tony and swiftly left. Tony held her hand as she slept, so pale, so fragile and cold. She was drifting in and out of sleep. Sometimes lucid and sometimes not. As he sat and watched her gentle existence fight for life he knew he would always be there to protect her, he would love her forever whatever it would take.

9

Karenna lay in bed taking urgent inhalations on her cigarette. She was absolutely fuming. She had tried everything she could think of to fuck up Laine’s relationship with Tony but it had all backfired on her in grandiose style. After that debacle at the pub, she had vowed that one way or another she would end it for Laine and Tony - after all what right did they have to make fun of her, who the hell was Laine to get in her way? She had wanted to be with Tony since the first time she met him but then Laine fucking Marshall with her long legs and gorgeous shiny white teeth had messed it up for her.

Karenna’s plan had been simple - show Tony what a whore Laine really was and he wouldn’t want her any more; she really wasn’t anything special, she just had to show him. She had heard on the grapevine how Laine and Ella (that other cow from Vestal) were going to Italy.

A few well-placed calls and she had found out where and when they were going.

Her plan had been simple but perfect - she would follow the girls to Italy and get some shots of them drunkenly partying the night away with random guys. She could then send these to Tony – job done. She had got more than she had bargained for with Laine in particular. Italy had seemed to turn Laine Marshall into some kind of X-rated sex-on-the-beach kind of nympho with that pretty average American GI. Karenna had managed to stay undetected and got some classic shots of them making out on the beach and through the window of the holiday apartment. This really was more than she had dreamed of. All she had to do was get the film developed and send it to Tony and that would be the end of it between them. A couple of times Karenna had thought she may have been seen so, had lain low for a while. She had found it hard to resist going through Laine’s things and on a couple of occasions had crept in through the open apartment window and pocketed a few trinkets she had seen Laine wearing. She would send them to Tony along with the photos to prove they were genuine. It had been a close shave for Karenna one of the nights: she had got so carried away looking at Laine’s belongings that she had not clocked the noise in the stairwell and had to jump quickly back through the window to avoid detection. On her return to England she had developed the photos herself as they were way too saucy to send to Boots. She had hand delivered them with the brooch to the reception of Trash. The plain brown A4 hard backed envelope gave nothing away. The note inside read –
This is what your girlfriend gets up to when you’re not around, enjoy!

Karenna was satisfied she had done a good job - the photos spoke for themselves after all. She would wait for the dust to settle and then arrange to bump into Tony accidentally on purpose – this time he would not be so blinded by that bitch and would be all hers. Now lying on her bed she could not believe what she had just heard: three days she had given it, and finally she had got news about Tony - but it was not the news she had wanted. Everyone was talking about it. Tony Black was to marry Laine Marshall – it would be the rock and roll wedding of the year.

Karenna had not been able to figure it out, she knew he had seen the photos; she had sneaked into his office later that same day and had seen the opened envelope on his desk. Was he really so stupid that he didn’t care that his wife-to-be was a GI-loving harlot? Obviously he didn’t. Karenna had never given up anything without a fight. She had fought for everything she had, she was not about to concede, no, she would have to find another way.

She had grown up in a family where being the third of six meant invisibility. She had had to endure being overlooked by her parents so many times that she had become withdrawn and somehow disconnected from family life. Her older brothers had wanted nothing to do with her as she was a girl and three years their younger. As twins her brothers had always had each other and rarely even acknowledged Karenna’s existence. Her younger siblings had come one after the other and it felt to her as if she was always in the way, never warranting attention. She found solace in music and had managed to use her girlish good looks to her advantage. The dirty old men of BSS hadn’t been able to resist the girly smiles and short skirts: oh yes, she knew how to get what she wanted. Once she landed a place within the PR dept those poor old men didn’t know what had hit them, no more flirting, no more blow jobs in the back of Marquee Club - Karenna had grown into the bitch from hell as far as they were concerned. She had set her sights much higher than their cheap whims, she wanted power and to give her her dues she was prepared to work for it without using her feminine wiles. In fact, like a caterpillar turning into a butterfly Karenna had become transformed - but in reverse. Gone were the well manicured nails and the beautifully feminine dresses and fancies, now it was all about the climb to the top. She had nurtured the chip on her shoulder that had grown with her since childhood to the point where it was a comfort to her; it was her justification for how things were. Life needed to be how she wanted it to be, her life her rules. Now she had to think and think hard.

Maybe the answer doesn’t lie with Tony she thought, maybe the answer lies with Laine.

She lit another Marlborough Light as she decided upon her next move.

10

Another dreary Monday morning…Laine stared out of her office window, reflecting on the rollercoaster her life had recently become. Maybe this was what living had to offer, maybe this was her first really big step. On leaving hospital she had moved in with Tony: after all what choice did she have? She was run down and homeless. It had been Tony’s suggestion and to be honest he had been amazing. She had her own room and her own space. He had not pushed her or persuaded her into anything and was more gentle and thoughtful than she had ever seen him. In fact she had never seen that side of him before. She considered his proposal whilst convalescing.

Whether it was her brush with death or the fact that she was tired of dreaming of her happy ever after she said yes. Yes because she chose life and stability over uncertainty, something over nothing. There had been no word from John. She had not written to him since the miscarriage.

A feeling of emptiness had started to polarise her thoughts. She felt so alone, despite her family and friends. The love of her life was gone, the baby she did not know was gone, all that greeted her now were tears. Grief was new. It sang as a siren throughout her body; raw, uncut, open and exposed. Grief had reared its ugly pox-ridden head and made her take an inward look at herself, tilting her world view just slightly. Her glass was still half full, but for how long? How long? She knew if she gave grief another backward glance it would consume her. No, for once she would chose the path lit with the big red neon sign. She would marry Tony. She would bury her grief; bury it at the bottom of her ocean of tears. It would not consume her but it would change her.

She had been out of hospital and back at work for two weeks. It had taken no time at all for her and Tony to develop a bit of a routine. They needed something to hang onto and a routine gave them that whilst they tried to find their way.

Laine would get the tube into the office each morning and when he could Tony would be there to pick her up each night. The evenings were hardest for Laine: by the time Tony arrived each evening she was absolutely wiped out. The doctors had said she was rushing things and should return to work slowly, but she had needed the normality the office brought. After two weeks it still didn’t seem to be getting any easier. Every bone was

screaming, every muscle aching. A fear of maybe this was how she would be for the rest of her life was starting to creep in.

She watched the rain hitting the window pane, every drop feeling like a tear falling from heaven. She should have stayed, my God in a heartbeat she would have stayed. Yes it would have been messy – too many loose ends, but she wouldn’t be caught in this cycle of suffering, in this wretched state. The rain kept falling – each drop a reminder that she was raw and hurting.

For the first time in her life she had seen the frailty of life. She now understood the time limit life had set her. Life was not something that could be replayed, unlike the records she promoted. At the end of every song you could pick up the needle and play it again, reliving the emotions you felt on first hearing, remembering the time and place, feeling the emotions that haunted you, knowing you had your connection to a time, to a place, to that song. In that moment emotions could be relived.

Life however was not an endless song. Time tricked you, it made you feel as if every Sunday went on forever, as if each moment could be held, then without warning it was gone, blown out of your hand like a child blowing a dandelion. Laine knew she had to live, her small fragile life had to be lived despite feeling dead in her soul. She needed to look towards the future: did she wait for the unfinished oil on canvas which was her journey with John to play out, or did she look with her eyes for today at what she knew and could control here and now?

She was aware that she was being watched and turned to see Adam looking as though he wanted to say something.

“Did you want something Adam?” asked Laine.

“Well, not really, it’s just that, well it’s just…” he started to look uncomfortable. “It’s just that we’re all worried about you, Laine, I’m worried about you. Since you came back from Italy you’ve moved out from Danny, been in hospital, and agreed to marry Tony – all within the space of a few months and now you look the unhappiest I’ve ever seen you. I just want you to know I’m here for you Laine, anytime you wanna talk or anything… OK?” His voice had taken on a soft almost whispered tone.

He placed his hand gently on her shoulder. Laine reached out and took his hand, turning her chair she met his gaze.

“I’m fine really”, she said. She could feel the salty dew start to form in her eyes. She knew as soon as the words left her mouth how hollow they sounded.

‘I’m just in a bit of a cyclone right now, it’ll pass really it will.” She tried to smile, and realised this was the first time she had even attempted to smile in a while.

“Well if you need some head space or whatever just let me know – you can take as much as you need OK?” he said.

“OK”, said Laine softly. It was all she could do to push her emotions back down below the level of the floodgates. She knew that he was being genuine. For all the bullshit he could spin, he could be a proper genuine guy, and this was probably one of the occasions where his true self was on display.

“Thanks, Adam - there is one thing I’d like to ask you?” Laine had thought about this and now seemed as good a time as any. “Sure Laine, anything I can do to help”.

“Will you give me away, Adam?”

5am – He had woken in a sweat, the whirl of the a.c. springing into life ready for the heat of the Texas day. Every night was the same, how had he managed to get himself into this spiral of misery? Each night the same dream, each night waking bathed in sweat. Running through the forest, catching glimpses of Laine, never finding her but always close, so so close. 5am was not bad, most nights he awoke between 3am and 4am.

Shortly after Laine’s return to the UK, John and Pete had been posted back to the US, Fort Bliss El Paso to be precise. The nuclear warheads were being decommissioned so their tour had been cut short.

El Paso was laid out in front of him, flat and bright, the intensity of the heat unyielding. Since his arrival on base he had not felt at home here. Italy had gotten under his skin and was still navigating its way around his body. La Dolce Vita – now he understood. The Italian people had a true passion for this fragile life which really sang to him. Italians managed to find the meaning in everything, big and small. Doing well and being guided by your own moral compass were at first alien to him, but as he had spent more time in Italy he understood.