Bad Friends (23 page)

‘My ex-boyfriend,’ I corrected her. ‘What’s he done now?’

‘Your ex-boyfriend.’ She wrinkled her creamy little brow slightly as if this was painful for her, her huge eyes never leaving my face. ‘It’s just – I thought you should know. We spoke on the phone yesterday afternoon.’

I shook my head in bemusement. ‘Why?’

She twisted a little pearl ring round her middle finger once. ‘Well, he wanted to – we – we met for a drink.’

I started to laugh. ‘Perfect,’ I said.

My sole intention was to find Digby and then get the hell out of London. I knew I couldn’t take Sebastian with me, the first night of his play was on Friday, and I’d have to miss it now – but I had a desperate urge to speak to him. In the cab on the way to Greenwich I scrabbled around for my phone. Before I found it, it started to ring in the depths of my bag.

‘Maggie!’ Bel screeched. ‘Finally. How are you?’

‘Don’t ask,’ I said. ‘Not great.’ There was a strange echo on the line that meant my own voice repeated itself three seconds after I spoke. It was eerie. ‘Terrible actually (terrible actually).’ I shook my head in frustration. ‘How’s Bangkok?’

‘We’re not there any more. We’re on a little island down on the east coast. It’s absolutely beautiful, Maggie. You’d love it. You should see the colour of the sea.’

‘I wish I could. How’s Han?’

‘Bit dazed, I think, but having a good time. Making friends with everyone, getting to grips with a snorkel. The jetlag’s a bit full-on though.’ There was a pause and I thought I’d lost her. My eyes seemed to be swimming oddly. I blinked hard.

‘Bel?’

‘Yeah, I’m here. Listen, I remembered what I wanted to tell you when we left. I don’t want to upset you, but –’ Her voice trailed off.

‘Bel?’

‘Sorry. It’s a really bad connection. The mobiles don’t work at all and the island phones are a bit dodgy.’

‘So what is it?’ To be honest, nothing could get any worse.

‘It’s just – I thought you should know. Alex has been up to his old tricks.’

‘Which ones?’

‘I got an email from Anna-Beth. She knows Serena from the fashion circuit. Serena’s having serious problems with him now too.’

‘I see.’ I tried to be droll, though actually I felt almost victorious. ‘Poor her.’

‘I just wanted you to remember why you left him.’ Bel was trying to engage me. ‘That it wasn’t just you, that Alex has a serious problem. I don’t want you to keep blaming yourself, because I know you do. You know what men are like.’

The problem was, I obviously didn’t.

Listlessly, I lit a cigarette and stared out at the dreary morning streets of South London. I’d crashed off my adrenaline high; now I just felt tired and sad. I watched a young mother at a bus-stop berating her toddler for taking his coat off, and then cuddling him in remorse when he cried, and I thought about my mother and how desperately I wished she was still here to hug me. I turned my phone over and over in my hand debating whether to ring Seb, but I suddenly felt all shy. I felt like I was losing all the stability in my life, and I despised myself for not being stronger, for not just being on my own when I knew I needed to be, for clutching on to another man when I wasn’t really over Alex.

‘And next up,’ Robert Elms’s distinguished voice broke into my thoughts, ‘we’ve got an exclusive interview with Oscar-tipped star and lead of the smash hit that even I enjoyed –
Love All
.’

‘Can you turn it up please?’ I asked the cabbie urgently.

‘So stick with me, cos coming up right after a nice bit of funky stuff’ – I waited with bated breath – ‘we’ll be welcoming the exceedingly cool James McAvoy.’

James McAvoy. Not Sebastian Rae. I stared at the driver’s bristly neck, at the red rolls of fat as Minnie Riperton began to sing sadly about love. I stared out of the window, but I didn’t see anything apart from my own stupidity reflected there. Racking my brain, I tried to think if Sebastian had ever actually said he’d played the lead, but I couldn’t recall the details now.

When we pulled up outside my father’s, I practically ran up the garden path.

‘Is Digby here? Have you found him?’

‘Oh dear.’ Jenny’s anxious shiny face spoke volumes. ‘I was really hoping – he’s not with you then?’ Her perfect hair was ruffled for once. I shook my head miserably.

‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ she intoned again, talking very fast as I followed her into the kitchen. ‘I feel like it’s all my fault, though I honestly don’t understand how on earth he got out.’ A stack of exam booklets looked precarious on the edge of the table; like a paper Tower of Pisa. Jenny pushed them to safety. ‘One minute he was here with me while I was marking the mocks, then I answered the door to the flower chap – your bouquet’s out there, by the way, it’s lovely,’ she gestured to the utility room, ‘and when I next remembered about poor Digby, he just wasn’t here. Your dad’s gone out to look for him in the car.’

‘Right.’ I thought quickly. ‘Do you know which way he went?’

‘Oh dear, no, I don’t. Can I do something? Make you a cup of tea?’

‘No, thanks.’ I grabbed my car-keys from the sideboard. ‘Could you just ring my dad and tell him I’m going back to mine to look for Digby there. Dad should stick to the streets round here. And can you let the local police know, please. In case they’ve picked him up.’

‘The police? Oh dear. Do you really think it’s that serious?’ Her round face was the epitome of concern.

I nearly screamed in frustration. ‘I don’t know, Jenny. I wish I did.’

As long as I was looking for Digby I didn’t have to think about everything else that was going wrong. But I hit the lunchtime rush and got so snarled up in traffic that my mind began to race through the disasters of the day. I felt increasingly overwhelmed and desperate to get out of London – but I didn’t want to leave until I’d found the dog. I was too frightened to think what might have befallen him. I was still too angry to involve Alex; too depressed to call Seb.

‘Face it, Margaret Warren.’ I looked at my wan reflection in the car mirror, my bruised forehead a splendid mash of colours now. ‘Your life’s a mess.’

I turned on the radio to hear Danny Baker announce the A2 was blocked entirely by a crash involving a caravan. I’d never get back to mine now. I turned the car around; I’d go back to my dad’s and phone Mrs Forlani and ask her to keep a lookout for the dog.

As I drove down my father’s road my dad was just hauling his stooped frame out of his car. He looked tired.

‘Oh Mag, I’m so sorry,’ he said when he saw me, half-opening his arms. I stared at him.

‘What?’ I croaked. ‘Did you – have you found him?’

‘No.’ He shook his head and my legs went sort of trembly.

‘Oh God.’ I sat on the garden wall for a second. ‘Oh God, I thought you were going to say you’d found him and he was, he was – you know.’

‘No, Mag. But –’ he dug in his anorak pocket, ‘I did find this by the gate.’

Digby’s collar, his dog-bone tag that Hannah had given me for a birthday present, with my mobile number on it. I stared at it.

‘Oh Dad. I’m not sure …’ I whispered, ‘I’m really not sure I can cope with this.’

My father didn’t speak. He put an arm around me and led me home again.

Desperate for news, I waited for the phone to ring all afternoon. I sat in the warm kitchen drinking endless cups of coffee and watching Jenny cooking a lumpy cauliflower cheese, biting my lip when she didn’t sieve the flour or get the butter to the right heat. Eventually I stood silently at the cooker and whisked up a white sauce that I could do in my sleep, and she gave me a quick squeeze. I couldn’t even bear to look at the latest bunch of flowers; I asked Jenny to chuck them away and she took one look at my face and didn’t argue.

Over dinner we managed to make small talk about the end of term and our plans for Christmas. I didn’t tell my father about work and I didn’t call Sebastian. After struggling through Jenny’s valiant attempt at rice pudding, I shivered outside the back door, staring alternately at my father’s perfectly regimented but dying garden and my mobile phone – until I took a deep breath and sent Seb a pretty bald text with lots of question marks at the end. Then I poured myself a big glass of red wine and took it up to wallow in the bath. This time I locked the door.

A while later my father tapped on it gently. ‘There’s someone called Sebastian on the phone. He’s pretty keen to talk to you.’

‘Well, I don’t want to talk to him, Dad. Thanks.’

I ducked my head under the water. I’d just stay here all night. It was warm and safe and kind of womb-like – and I’d
felt so incredibly cold recently, as if my very bones were made of ice.

Sometime later, there was a commotion downstairs. Digby! I jumped out of the bath and rushed dripping wet onto the landing.

‘Please, Mr Warren. I only need five minutes.’

He was so beguiling I could sense my father hesitating. I sighed. It just wasn’t fair to keep dragging my poor dad into my mess.

‘It’s okay, Dad.’ I stuck my head over the banisters. ‘I’ll come down.’

I pulled on my pyjamas and drained the rest of my wine before I went to find Seb by the fire in the sitting room, the fake coals glowing red and warm, the carriage clock gently chiming on the mantelpiece. My dad and Jenny had retreated tactfully into the kitchen.

‘Maggie,’ Seb turned as I came in, his tone urgent. ‘I got your message.’ He looked a bit like a small boy with his hand stuck in the cookie jar. ‘I’m sorry. I’m really sorry – but you got the wrong end of the stick.’

‘Did I?’ I went to the window in case Digby was outside. ‘And which wrong end would that be?’

‘I
never
said I played the lead in
Love All
. When did I ever say that? You seem to think I’ve lied to you, but I honestly didn’t. I’m sure I told you.’

It was dark outside except for the flare of the streetlamp – and there was no small dog panting to be let in. I let the curtain swing back as I looked at Seb. I thought of his invitation to the small premiere in Piccadilly. What had his exact words been?

‘I’m sure you didn’t. And you must have known I thought you were playing the main part.’

‘Why?’ He pushed his dark hair back distractedly. ‘You never asked – I seem to recall you never asked which part I played. And if we’d gone in, if we’d watched the film, you would have seen.’

‘But you didn’t want to watch it.’

‘I hate watching myself, that’s why. I never think I’m good enough.’

‘So what
was
your part?’ I sat on the sofa opposite him. ‘Third undertaker from the left?’

He grinned. ‘No. A bit bigger than that, thank you very much. I played the hero’s brother.’

‘I see.’ That didn’t sound quite so bad.

‘It’s just,’ he sighed, ‘he does get killed in Afghanistan about ten minutes in.’

‘I see.’ I tried not to smile. ‘Third corpse from the left then?’

‘Something like that.’

We gazed at each other. Then, tentatively, he crossed the room and slowly sat next to me. ‘I mean, I had a proper part, Maggie. Lines and everything. I wasn’t trying to pull the wool over your eyes, I swear.’

I stood and crossed to my dad’s drinks cabinet. ‘Drink?’

‘I’m okay, Maggie, thanks. Are you all right now, then?’ he asked rather anxiously as I poured myself a whisky.

‘Kind of,’ I shrugged. ‘I resigned today, actually.’

He stared at me. ‘Really?’

‘Yes, really. Well, sort of. I think they got the message anyway. I’m not going back.’ I wrinkled my nose at my acrid drink. ‘And Digby’s –’ I swallowed hard, ‘he’s gone missing.’

Seb looked shocked. ‘Oh God, I’m sorry. When?’

I shrugged. ‘Sometime this morning. Early.’

‘Can I – do you want me to go and look for him?’

‘I don’t think there’s much point. I think someone’s taken him. He’s pedigree, you know. Maybe it’s a trader.’

We both knew I didn’t really think that.

‘Right.’ Seb pushed his hands through his hair, gazing at the fire. ‘Maggie, I’m so sorry about this mess. You’ve got enough on your plate.’

‘No, I’m sorry.’ I drained my glass. ‘I’m just in a bit of a state. I probably overreacted.’

‘Well, I should have been more upfront, I suppose – I didn’t lie, but perhaps I was trying to impress you.’

‘So what about your audition this morning? Was that real?’

‘Totally real. For a new doctor in
Holby City
. I’ve got the script somewhere.’

‘And the play you’re doing, your big part – is that real? Or are you just a spear-carrier?’

He was starting to look cross now. ‘No, I’m not. I’m playing Orsino. Of course it’s bloody real.’ He dug around for something in his bag. ‘God, what do you take me for, Maggie?’

He found what he was looking for – a batch of publicity shots and a well-thumbed script. I peered at the photos: the top one was Seb dressed in a ruffled white shirt and breeches, long riding-boots to the knee, looking very dashing; in the next he was a punk; then a British soldier with a rifle. ‘That was my mum’s favourite. That’s
Love All
.’ He pointed to the last one, pushing his hair back again distractedly. ‘It was taken just before she died.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ I said mechanically. ‘I’m sure she was very proud. You look very handsome.’

‘She thought so, bless her.’ He stood. ‘You look knackered, babe. Give me a call when you’re ready, okay?’

‘Okay. Thanks, Seb.’

He moved towards the door, then he turned round slowly. ‘We’re having a cast party tomorrow to celebrate going up. I did – I really wanted you to come.’

‘Wanted?’

‘Well, it’s just – I mean, after this – perhaps you don’t want to.’

I contemplated my glass like the answer to all my problems might lie in the dregs. ‘I’m sorry, Seb. I’d love to come normally. It’s just – I’m just not in a very good place right now,’ I said honestly. ‘Everything I thought I knew seems not to be true right now.’

‘Really?’ He looked perplexed. ‘That bad?’

‘You know I thought they’d caught the bloke who’s been doing all this crap to me, Joseph Blake.’

‘I know, thank God. They have, haven’t they?’

I felt the wall of panic rise in me again. ‘But it’s not Blake. It can’t be. I just got more of those hideous flowers, and it was while he was locked up. Oh God.’ I put my head in my hands. ‘I was so bloody relieved it was over, and now it looks like it’s not. And I’m so worried about Digby. He’s never run off before.’

Seb came towards me and took the glass out of my hand, setting it down on the little walnut table beside me. ‘Maggie,’ he said softly. ‘I’m here for you.’

‘Thank you.’ I couldn’t look at him.

‘I know you’re cross, but I didn’t lie. And we’re good together, aren’t we?’

‘I thought so,’ I mumbled. I was starting to feel like I wanted to just let go of all this mistrust now. I wanted some kind of oblivion. I wanted someone to hold me; to tell me it would be all right.

He pushed my hair out of my eyes. ‘You’re beautiful, Maggie, and you’re hurt.’

‘I’ll say,’ I joked. ‘My head’s still throbbing.’ I still couldn’t look at him.

‘I’m serious. You’re drowning in misery. I want to help you.’ Gently, Sebastian forced me to meet his gaze. ‘I came here to save you.’

‘Lordy,’ I mumbled. ‘My hero. Am I really that far gone?’

He bent his head to kiss me. After a minute I came up for air.

‘Do you
really
think I need saving?’

He didn’t answer.

Seb went home around midnight, once I’d promised to think about coming to the party. But when I woke the next morning, back in the room where I’d spent the demise of my childhood,
I realised I couldn’t go. I had to get the hell out of London; I had to before I imploded.

My dad and Jenny had already left for school. I had a cup of coffee, several cigarettes, and then I drove to the office to clear my desk. I wanted to make my leaving absolutely official. There was nothing Charlie or Renee could do to me any more, I reasoned; I had to be adult about the situation.

Sally bounced into my office as soon as she saw my light go on.

‘Oh my goodness!’ she said, her freckled bosom almost heaving with the drama. ‘What
were
you like yesterday?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said dryly. ‘What
was
I like?’

‘You certainly gave ’em what for – not that they didn’t deserve it.’

‘I’m glad it was so entertaining. I meant every word. Are there any boxes out there?’ I took the picture of Pendarlin off the wall and clutched it to me. ‘I need to pack my stuff up.’

‘I’ll get Cheryl to have a look. So you’re really going then?’

But Sally had lost my attention as I switched on the computer. About ten emails down from the top was one from Alex, dated yesterday morning, and headed ‘MY BLOODY DOG’.

‘Oh my God.’ I opened it feverishly.

‘Bloody bastard. I don’t want to see you anyway.’ But I was so relieved that Digby was safe I laid my sore head on the desk for a minute.

‘Maggie?’

‘Sorry. It’s nothing. Just that Alex took my dog and I’ve been worried sick.’ From my vantage point I spotted the bottle of vodka on the cabinet. I sat up. ‘But he’s okay. This calls for a celebration, I think. Pass the bottle, Sal.’

She eyed it nervously. ‘Maggie, it’s nine thirty in the morning. Do you really think it’s a good idea?’

‘One of my best.’ I held out my hand.

‘Maggie.’ Sally sat down in front of me, her jolly face serious. ‘I’m starting – I’m worried about you, you know. You seem a bit –’

‘Mad?’ I stood to reach for the vodka.

‘No. Manic, I was going to say.’ A big crease furrowed her forehead.

I unscrewed the lid. ‘I’m fine, honest. I’m in control.’

‘Are you?’ she asked quietly. ‘It’s okay to say you need help, you know, Maggie.’

‘Are you saying I’m acting mad, Sal?’ No one here except Charlie knew about my past, but I was beyond caring now. I looked around for a glass. ‘I’m fine. I promise.’

‘Please don’t drink that, Maggie.’ Sally stood too, holding her hand out for the bottle. ‘I just don’t think it’s a great idea.’

I looked at her and then at the vodka. The clear liquid rolled behind the clear glass and I thought longingly of the burn in the back of my throat as the alcohol hit it. Then I thought about the truth of Sally’s words and the fact that I hadn’t eaten anything this morning and how I needed a clear head, and reluctantly I relinquished the bottle into her hand.

‘All right, Sal. I expect you’re right.’

My new phone beeped. I picked it up.

‘
LAST WARNING
’ it said. ‘
YOU’RE CORNERED
.’

‘Oh God.’ I looked at the bottle, now in Sally’s possession. ‘On second thoughts, Sal, I think I might need that after all.’