Читать книгу The Grip Lit Collection: The Sisters, Mother, Mother and Dark Rooms - Koren Zailckas, Claire Douglas - Страница 33
ОглавлениеRain batters against the French doors and Beatrice cups her hands around her face to block out the light from her studio so that she can see into the garden. Where is he? The sky is cluttered with fast-moving, angry clouds and she longs for the hot temperatures of yesterday. How she wishes it could always be summer. Thunder rolls across the sky in a low roar, followed by the inevitable flash momentarily lighting up the garden. Beatrice jumps back from the window; she’s always had a fear of being struck by lightning, imagining its electric fingers reaching through the glass to electrocute her.
She shivers, pulls her cardigan around her body. It’s nearly midnight. Where is Ben? She doesn’t feel safe until he’s home, hates the fact the house is empty apart from her. She’s at her happiest when the house is full of people, with Ben at her side. She fights the urge to call his mobile, not wanting to appear needy, even though she knows she is. She paces the room instead, trying to dispel the energy from her legs, her arms, her hands that are twitching to reach for the phone. Her eyes fall on to the velvet box next to her mobile. The lid is open exposing the sapphire bracelet nestled against the satin fabric, the piece that she’s most proud of creating. She’s promised to post it to her client in the morning. She’s been paid handsomely for the bracelet, although it’s not about the money, it’s about the recognition of her talent.
Beatrice never thought she would end up as an artist. She wanted to be a lawyer when she began her degree at university all those years ago, the degree she never finished because everything went horribly wrong and she was forced to run away from it all.
It was the first August of the new millennium when she met him. Most of the students had gone home for the holidays, but she had hung around Exeter with her friend Laila, both not wanting to give up their flat, or to go back home to their families, enjoying their first taste of playing at being grown-up. They had gone to the local pub, the Seven Stars, which all the students frequented in term time because the beer was cheap. Spiller’s ‘Groovejet (If This Ain’t Love)’ was on the jukebox and even now, all these years later, she can’t listen to that song without remembering how she felt when she first noticed him. He was leaning against the bar, chatting to his friend with a pint in hand, seemingly unaware of her reaction. Of how, for those few long seconds, she couldn’t breathe, as if she knew that she had found her soul mate. As if she knew that they were destined to be together before they even uttered a word to each other. And when they did speak they couldn’t stop, she was amazed by how much they had in common. He too was a student at the university, although he was doing a different course. When she found out he was on the same campus as her she couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed him before.
Beatrice hardly ever allows herself to think of that time; it was thirteen years ago now and so much has happened since, so much wasted time, so many regrets. Her heart was broken and she had no choice but to leave, not only the university but the country as well. A few years later she heard through Laila that he had a new girlfriend, and it was as if her heart was being ripped out of her chest all over again.
She jumps as the front door bangs, bringing with it hushed voices, a giggle that echoes around the house. Beatrice rushes out into the hallway to see Ben with his arms around Abi’s waist. Their hair is wet and plastered to their heads, Abi’s hanging in cute tendrils, a limp umbrella dripping water falls from her hand and on to the doormat. She’s looking up at Ben with her beautiful open face and Beatrice is surprised to see her expression is full of adoration. She never expected Abi to fall for him, not this quickly. They are both laughing and the sight of them together brings back unwanted memories. Memories that she tries hard to keep buried. She only wishes she could find someone to fall in love with and then the past could be erased as easily as a pencil drawing.
‘All right, Bea.’ Ben flashes her his lopsided smile, but Abi doesn’t even glance in her direction. Standing by the old school radiator, Beatrice is suddenly awkward in her own home. There’s something different about Abi tonight, she realizes, an aloofness that wasn’t evident in her persona before. It’s true that Abi has always been slightly jittery, with a shyness, a vulnerability that endeared her to Beatrice, but she was always so eager to please, so polite. When Abi told her, that day in her bedroom, that she reminded her of Lucy, she had been flattered, had felt that maybe this was the beginning of a long friendship that both of them so obviously needed.
‘Have you had a good night?’ she says in an effort to stem her jealousy. It’s not their fault that she’s single.
‘Yes, thanks,’ replies Abi shortly, still looking up at Ben, her arms encircling his waist. Beatrice is taken aback by her abruptness. Was it all an act, Abi, your eagerness to be my friend? Was it only so you could get into my brother’s pants? Perhaps Ben’s told her about yesterday, how upset she became in the park when she thought they were sleeping together. Would he be so disloyal? It wasn’t the fact he was sleeping with Abi that had bothered her so much. Not really. She just doesn’t want them to get too serious. Even she can see it’s going too fast, that one of them is going to end up getting hurt, and Abi is so vulnerable. Putting a halt to their intimacy might slow things down, give each of them a chance to get some perspective on their relationship. Sex gets in the way. It’s easier when you take it out of the equation, she thinks.
Abi uncoils herself from Ben and, clutching his hand, leads him up the stairs. ‘Goodnight, Beatrice,’ she calls over her shoulder, and there is something about the way she says it, the way she leads her brother up the stairs, that makes Beatrice think that she’s taunting her, letting her know that she won’t let Beatrice win.
It’s not a fucking game, Abi. This is my life.
Ben has a stupid lovestruck grin on his face as he follows Abi up the stone staircase. Beatrice knows she must look like a disapproving landlady, standing at the bottom, wrapped in her thick woolly cardigan, arms folded across her chest, but surely Ben wouldn’t go against her wishes? Surely he wouldn’t be so cruel as to still have sex with Abi after everything she said yesterday? Not when he knows she has the ability to pull the plug on it all.
Beatrice sighs and flicks the switch to turn the light off in the studio. She must trust that Ben will do the right thing. She can’t keep tabs on him as if she’s his overprotective mother.
Her eyes pause on the velvet box on her desk, and she makes a mental note not to forget to post it to her client first thing. Another giggle emanates from the landing, causing her to forget all about the bracelet, and, closing the door on it, she follows her brother and his girlfriend up the stairs.
