Читать книгу The Most Difficult Thing - Charlotte Philby - Страница 13

When I came to, the room was quiet.

Even with my eyes closed I could register a sense of space above my head. My body, heavy and unfamiliar, pressed down against the springs of a mattress.

‘Anna? Thank God, man.’

I stretched my neck, my movements slow and unfamiliar as Meg’s voice emerged, along with her pale face as she bent over me.

Sitting, I pulled the sheets around a T-shirt I didn’t recognise. It was her flat we were in – my flat, now – the curtains sagging against the window.

‘I took your clothes off, they were covered in sick.’ She did her best to make it sound casual.

‘I’m cold.’ My voice was raspy and Meg nodded, seemingly pleased by the specificity of the instruction, jumping up and leaving the room without another word. Seconds later there were more footsteps, heavier this time, less certain, moving towards the bed.

‘David, maybe wait a minute, yeah?’

Meg followed him back into the room, the duvet from her own bed bundled in her arms. But he was oblivious, his bloodshot eyes trained on mine.

‘I’m so sorry.’

He lowered himself as I pulled the covers tighter around my chest, still dazed, distracted by the taste in my mouth.

The outside world was an uncertain grey, I couldn’t tell if it was dawn or dusk.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘The MDMA, it was just a dab in your drink, I warned you …’

I felt myself back in the airless bar, David’s voice mouthing words I could barely hear as my eyes scanned the room desperately for signs of Harry. I had smiled as I turned back to him, masking my disappointment as I took the drink from his hand and downed it, my eyes wincing at the bitter aftertaste.

‘Leave me. I’m fine, it’s fine, I just need to sleep …’

‘I’m sorry, honestly Anna, I thought you knew … I thought it was what you wanted.’ His face was stained with desperation.

‘Just let me sleep. Please.’ I turned away from them both, the sound of their footsteps moving into the hallway, fading again a moment later.

When I woke again, the flat was silent, and the memory of the night before came back to me in waves.

Placing a pillow in front of my face in a futile attempt to stem the flow of thoughts, tears of shame pricked the corners of my eyes, the humiliation churning in my gut, heavy and hot.

How much had Harry seen? Was I sick in the club or only once we had come home? Fucking David. I said the words aloud. I never took drugs, never risked putting myself in a position where I wasn’t in control. I couldn’t. And yet, how was he to know? I had let them believe that I did, him and Meg. I remember the sharp taste of a pill on my tongue, on nights out in Brighton, those few seconds before I turned and spat it into my hands, disposing of it before either of them saw, terrified they would spot that I wasn’t one of them.

The flat was empty, silence ringing through the air as I moved slowly towards the kitchen.

On the table, there was a note.

Hope you’re feeling OK. Pizza and juice in the fridge. Make yourself at home. Mx.

Beside it, my keys, purse and phone, which Meg must have pulled from my pockets after stripping me down.

Desperate for a distraction, I pressed the home button on my phone and watched the screen light up. Rather than a message from my parents wondering where I was, I was met only by the date and time flashing on the screen against the backdrop of a photo taken by David on Brighton Pier, two summers previous – Meg and me, the wind whipping against our cheeks, our faces contorted in a scream.

It was the same day Meg had first asked me about David.

‘So what you going to do?’ We settled ourselves at a table in the corner of the Hop Poles while David went to the bar.

‘What do you mean?’

Meg rolled her eyes disbelievingly.

‘About David …’ She waited, and when I didn’t speak, continued, ‘He fucking loves you, man.’

I snorted. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘Oh please, tell me you’re joking.’

‘What?’

‘Jesus, you’re serious. Anna, the boy is infatuated. Have you noticed that he can’t be more than two feet away from you at all times?’

Along with incredulity I felt a prick of pride. My voice was less convinced as I continued, ‘Yeah well, I don’t know, maybe that’s because he likes you and I’m always with you—’

‘Anna.’ Meg slapped her hands against her face. ‘Honestly, do you really not realise … You don’t. Wow. I mean you’re smart but sometimes you’re so fucking dumb. He’s in love with you. If you can’t see that then you really need to learn to read people better.’

The digits overlaying the image read 20.12. Sunday night. For the first time in my life, I had slept through an entire day.

Sipping gratefully at a glass of too-warm water from the tap, I moved from the counter towards the sofa.

Meg must have had a clean-up while I slept as the detritus that was usually scattered across the floor had been stacked into a pile in the corner of the room, the remote control neatly aligned on the coffee table in front of the sofa.

Scanning mindlessly between channels, I settled on a film I did not recognise, my thoughts gradually fading into nothingness before a harsh buzzing noise reverberated through the intercom, causing me to jump.

Pressing the volume on the television to mute, I lay back on the sofa, holding the edges of the blanket I had dragged in from the bedroom, waiting for whomever it was to give up. A moment later, though, the bell sounded again, longer this time.

Aware it might be Meg, having forgotten her keys, I reluctantly stood, brushing away the covers before moving to the window.

The light inside the flat was off. The only potential clue to my presence was the glow emanating from the screen behind me as I nudged the curtain with my fingers, pressing my cheek against the glass. Looking down, my eyes ached as they struggled to focus, my breath forming a screen on the pane in front of me.

Using my thumb, I smeared the condensation away. As if sensing my movement, his face flicked up at me.

‘Fuck.’ I pulled back.

The buzzer sounded again. I couldn’t let him see me like this, but what choice did I have? Besides, I had already made the decision as I moved across the room towards the door. Pressing my hand against my thigh, I leaned forward into the mouthpiece, pressing the button before I could change my mind.

‘Hello?’

‘Anna?’

My palms were prickling. My face, in the reflection of the screen on the intercom, was hollowed out, and tacky with sweat.

‘It’s Harry.’ There was a pause, and then, ‘It’s bloody cold out here – are you going to let me in?’

My finger hovered for a moment over the button, before pressing down again.

‘What are you watching?’ Before I had time to fully register his presence, he was moving across the room as if being here was the most natural thing in the world.

‘A film.’ I turned to the counter, pulling desperately at my hair, twisting it into a bun.

‘You alone?’

‘Yeah.’

It was too late to turn away, to shield him from the circles under my eyes, the unwashed skin.

‘Would you like tea?’

He nodded, his eyes smiling. ‘You feel like shit, right?’

‘I don’t know what happened, I’m not usually—’

‘Course you’re not.’ His laugh was familiar. ‘I’m just glad you’re OK. That’s what I came to check. The club, I couldn’t find you anywhere and then I saw Meg and she said you weren’t well and had to go home and …’

The moment our eyes locked there was a rush through my body and I instantly felt like a fool for imagining whatever it was I had imagined might have happened between him and Meg in the time that they were lost in the club.

He settled himself on the sofa as my grip tightened slightly around the handle of the kettle.

‘How did you know where I lived?’

‘You pointed it out last night, on the way back from the pub.’

‘Really?’ It was unlike me to forget things. Besides, everything else from the night before remained clear, before the club. Or did it? How would I know – was it possible to intuit where the holes in your memory lay? Harry’s claims were hardly surprising given the number of shots we’d consumed at the bar. Something about his presence had lured me into a state of off-guardedness, my usual restraint failing to kick in. The drinks had been endless, David galvanised by the presence of another male into buying round after round, each more elaborate than the last. If nothing else, this was a lesson. Or fate, perhaps. If I hadn’t passed out, would Harry have been here now? At the time, the thought struck me as reassuring.

He took the cup of tea I had made for him from my hand and our fingers touched.

‘Have you eaten?’

‘I still feel pretty sick.’

‘You’ve got to eat.’ He stood up straight, pulling his wallet from his pocket. ‘And have a drink. Trust me, it will make you feel better.’ He winked, taking a sip of his tea and passing it back to me.

‘I’ll be back in ten, buzz me in?’

I watched him pull the door closed behind him, and it was all I could do not to scream.