Читать книгу Break-Up Club: A smart, funny novel about love and friendship - Lorelei Mathias - Страница 11

A week later, Lawrence stood at Holly’s door, an olive green beanie grappling with his unruly curls. Holly leaned forward to kiss him on the lips.

He broke off halfway. ‘Look, I bought Georgia!’ he said as he unhooked himself from the enormous, unwieldy guitar case that was strapped to his back.

‘Who?’ Holly asked, looking around her.

‘My new acoustic! Isn’t she the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen?’

Holly nodded as Lawrence clambered through the door, bashing Georgia on the already scratched walls of the entrance hall.

‘What’s not to love?’ Holly said as they headed into her bedroom and he started bashing out a tune.

In truth, Lawrence plus guitar equalled total subservience on Holly’s part. She could be furious with him about something, and all he’d have to do was strum three notes, and the drawbridge to her lady-garden would drop there and then. Right now, he was playing ‘You’ve Got To Hide Your Love Away’ – but singing the chorus over and over because it was the only bit he knew all the chords to.

Lawrence perched on the edge of the bed, his muscular frame stooped over his guitar, his brown curls falling into his eyes like a slightly crustier Jim Morrison. He was playing a new chord sequence now, which Holly couldn’t place in his usual repertoire. After a few more beats she recognised it as ‘My Boy Lollipop’. Only, when he sang the chorus he changed the lyric to ‘Hollypop, Hollypop’ for attempted comedic gain.

‘Oh, that’s cute, Lawry! Although, am I a boy?’

Lawrence grinned. ‘Yes. For the purposes of this song you are. Anyway, it’s not quite ready yet.’

‘It’s lovely. Thanks, baby.’

She sat on the bed and watched him slowly pick out the chords. Lawrence had never got round to learning how to read music. But what he lacked in patience he made up for with a most amazing ear. He could usually pick out most requests just by listening for the notes that sounded right. As a result, having Lawrence and a guitar around was sometimes like having a slightly hyperactive human jukebox at your disposal.

‘Play it again, Lawry,’ she said, brushing some sleep out of his eye.

‘No. I’m bored of that one now,’ he said, pulling her towards him for a kiss.

‘Hey,’ Holly said, breaking away after a minute, ‘do you remember the other day, when I got a bit fixated on the woman’s voice on the Tube?’

Lawrence squinted, trying to recall a memory lost in a distant fog.

‘Well, I’ve been thinking about it some more, about whether it could make an interesting story – all about the comfort people might take in the voices of their loved ones after they’ve gone? I wondered if there are any real-life TFL widows out there that we could make a documentary out of?’

‘Bit morbid, but there could be something in it.’

‘That’s what I thought, but Jez blew it out. But then I got to wondering; could it be the kernel for a short film instead? A heart-wrenching little film, about someone’s journey through grief, guided by voices…’ she looked at him, her eyes dancing with possibility, ‘but you know more about shorts than me.’

Lawrence had been tinkering with a chord sequence all this time. He stopped for a moment and looked into her eyes. ‘It’s definitely interesting, Fol. I mean, I like the irony that to most passengers the voices are just these robotic murmurs; a necessary and repetitive part of getting from A to B. Yet, to a few people they are these ghost-like traces of someone they used to know. Someone they used to share their world with.’

Holly’s eyes widened. ‘Exactly! I just have this feeling it could be really poignant. What do you think about us developing this into a film together? It’d be lovely to spend our time doing something creative, as opposed to box-set bingeing.’

‘But we love box-set bingeing!’

‘We could actually make it though – you direct, I’ll edit! It would be great for both our reels! Put it into festivals. Stop our careers from flatlining?’

‘Sounds like a plan,’ said Lawry while picking out the opening bars to ‘I Wanna Hold Your Hand’.

‘You’re better at writing than me though,’ she said, taking one of his curls and twirling it around her finger. ‘Will you help me script it sometime?’ But her voice was drowned out by a strange robotic tone coming from the bed, which sounded not unlike ‘Live’.

‘What the bejeezus?’ Lawrence said. But then it happened again. ‘Where is that robot voice coming from, and why is it telling us to live? Is it a new Existentialist phone line?’

‘It’s my new upgrade,’ Holly said, retrieving her phone from the top of her bed. ‘It’s the world’s most complicated mobile. It insists on telling me who’s calling, in a Stephen-Hawking-on-weed voice.’

‘Why don’t you read the manual?’ Lawrence said, infuriatingly.

‘Oh, you ARE my father!’

Everyone in the world – except from Lawrence and her father – knew that life was too short for reading the manual.

‘Live,’ bleated Stephen Hawking.

‘Can you make it stop?’

‘Oh, hang on!’ Holly said once she’d found her phone, ‘He’s saying Liv! As in, Olivia! She tapped the answer button. Hey Liv, how you doing?’

‘Bored,’ came Olivia’s voice. ‘Can we go to the pub?’

‘Well, it would be good to walk Bella again. She’s been surgically attached to the sofa for two days and is starting to grow mould. I’ll go and prod her.’

Holly hung up the phone and turned to face Lawrence, who was picking out another new song on Georgia.

‘Lawry… Do you mind if we go and meet her?’

He looked up. ‘Actually, I’m really close to mastering a new song. I might stay here and finish it if that’s OK?’

‘OK. And maybe when I’m back we can have a go at writing the script. I’ve even thought of a name for it! Mind the Gap. What do you think?! It works on two levels…’

Lawrence looked up from his guitar and into her eyes. ‘Yeah, I get it! But if I’m honest, Folly, I’m not totally convinced it’s film fodder. It seems a tiny bit far-fetched to me.’

Holly’s heart sank a little. ‘The name, or the idea?’

‘That’s a point though, it’s that short film festival in Paris in March. We best get tickets soon. Remember, you said you’d come?’

‘I did?’ she said, wishing he could stay on topic for more than five seconds, just once.

‘Yes! It’s the European Independent Film Festival? It’s like, the undisputed Mecca of Indie Films? I have to go and do the whole networking thing, but it’d be so much more fun if you came with me.’

‘Are we not doing Cuba this year? Surely we should be saving all our pennies for that?’

‘Yeah, we definitely will. We can totally do both.’

‘With what, exactly? When did you start sweating tenners?’

‘I’ll sort it out, I promise… chill, Winston! How about, I start having a look at flights and stuff, while you’re in the pub?’

‘OK. Deal. Thanks.’

In the lounge, Bella was now mummified in duvets. There were flecks of crisps in her hair, and her laptop lay ajar on her knees. Her face was dotted with white blobs of toothpaste in a bid to dry out her spots – a technique she’d long referred to as the ‘poor woman’s facemask’. As she stared, transfixed at the laptop screen, the pantone of her cheeks began to change from peach to pillar box red.

‘What. A. Cock,’ Bella shouted at the screen.

‘What’s happened?’

Bella turned to face Holly. ‘Here I am, screaming my guts out, mourning the death of my relationship, not knowing if I’ll live to see another day, and Sam Cocknamara is joining groups like “Bring Back Superted!”’ Bella lifted up her laptop as if to throw it across the room, then seemed to change her mind and rested it back on her knees. ‘Oh and get this – Sam’s status update, 48 hours after breaking up with his girlfriend of just over two years…’

Holly walked towards the iconic pale blue and white webpage. ‘Sam Macnamara…’ she read aloud, ‘“can’t decide which is better – crunchy peanut butter or smooth?” Mmmm. That is a bit of a kick in the teeth.’

‘Especially when, as any douche knows, it’s crunchy,’ Bella said, scowling.

‘Although maybe it’s some really clever metaphor, for life?’

‘Nice try. But no, I don’t think he’s that clever. The last time I tried to discuss metaphor with Sam he thought I was talking about bull-fighting. He really is that thick.’

Holly shook her head, her eyes landing on the empty vodka bottle and half-eaten bag of jelly babies at Bella’s feet. ‘Right well, I’m not sure you’ll be up to it, or that you need to add to the alcohol that’s already colonising your veins, but some of us are going to the pub. I’d like to recommend you take this opportunity to try and do outdoors – take a short intermission from moping?’

Bella shook her head. The prospect of having to act happy again so soon did not appeal. After crying for so long, she felt snug as a bug nestling at sorrow’s bosom. ‘No, no. Not out there, not yet.’

Holly walked over to the window and peered through the gap in the dark blue blinds. There was still some daylight left; the sun wasn’t quite setting. She grabbed the string and pulled.

‘Hey!!! What are you doing?’ screamed Bella, clamping her hands over her eyes.

‘You have a date in the bathroom. There’s someone in there I’d like you to meet. He’s called Mr Shower Head. Now. Come on!’

Reluctantly, Bella relented. But instead of hoisting herself up on the sofa in order to stand up, she went for the roll and land technique. Still swaddled in blankets, she slowly rolled onto the floor in the manner of a depressed pancake. Then Holly began to peel off the blankets, Bella whimpering as the cold air hit her pyjamas. She stood up, shook her hair free of some of the crisp crumbs, then hobbled towards the door in the pink duvet slippers.

‘YAY. Well done you. Listen, you get in the shower, I’ll make you a cup of sugary tea and put it in your room for afters, OK?’

‘Thanks,’ mumbled Bella, stepping out into the hallway and walking like something from Dawn of the Dead. Holly went to put the kettle on. Moments later, there was an almighty shriek, followed by what sounded like a herd of elephants jumping on top of each other.

Holly ran to the landing. She looked down to see Bella in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs.

‘FUUUuuuuuuCK! I’ve broken my arse!’

Holly ran down the stairs. ‘I did try and warn you! No walking in the slippers! They are strictly for loafing!’

‘I forgot I had them on!’

‘Sorry!’ Holly said, folding Bella into her arms.

‘Hey, at least I can’t get any lower now, can I?’ Bella said, shrieking with laughter, tears streaming down her face.

Forty minutes and thirty millilitres of soothing Aloe Vera gel later, they set off. After wandering down the long and winding Tufnell Park Road, Bella and Holly arrived at Holloway Road. Aesthetically, the contrast never failed to bring a shock to Holly’s system. The way the charming Victorian conversions morphed into grey concrete 1960s blocks and stalls flogging mobile phones. Slowly they strolled down the rows of off-licenses and discount clothing shops, with dated shopfronts.

Just as they turned right onto the road, Holly felt the wind tugging at her hair, forcing her to wrap her charcoal-grey duffel coat tighter around her. Holloway Road appeared to have its own microclimate – it was always cold and windy, no matter what the weather was doing anywhere else. As if on cue, it then began to rain. Holly pulled her coat above her head to protect her curls from going fuzzy.

‘Ah, home sweet booze,’ Bella said, as they walked through the doors to the Big Blue and she leaped towards a cluster of free sofas, draping her long red coat over the biggest armchair.

‘I’ll have a Vodka and Red Bull if you’re going up to the bar,’ Bella said, slumping into a chair and resuming the affectation of a broken-hearted creature.

‘Of course. Although, I can’t believe you still drink that university shite. You’ll be after a Snakebite and black soon!’ Holly said, looking at the door and seeing Olivia walk in.

‘Hi, Liv,’ Holly said, moving in for a hug.

‘Oh my days, Holly, what’s happening to your eye? It keeps jittering! Are you developing a nervous tic?’

‘Oh, my eyelid? It’s been doing that for days now. I didn’t realise anyone else could see it twitching. Do I look like a circus freak?’

‘No more than usual,’ Bella said.

‘That’s stress, that is,’ Olivia said, ‘when your eyelid gets a trapped nerve. It’s stress, or lack of sleep.’

‘Oh well, I’m sure it will go away. What’s everyone drinking? I’m getting this round.’

‘Hendricks and slim-line, please,’ Olivia said. ‘Remind me again why you guys drink here?’ she added as she sat down on the only non-saggy bit of sofa, surveying the scattering of Arsenal-shirted, skin-headed punters. As her eyes took in the peeling upholstery and the lighting that hid a multitude of nicotine stains on the walls, her expression read, ‘Take me back to West Didsbury!’

‘Because it’s cheap, and we can always get a seat,’ Bella began, ‘and because when you’re here, you can’t sink any lower. Lower your expectations, and you lower your propensity towards disappointment.’ It wasn’t entirely clear whether she was talking about their surroundings or something more. Either way, as was sometimes the case with Bella, there was a kernel of wisdom buried deep.

‘So how’s the exciting new job?’ Olivia said. ‘Is it getting any better?’

‘Nope. Starting to really wish I’d stayed where I was. Far better to be a junior editor in a company I liked, than a senior one in a clusterfuck of an omnishambles! Not only is it such a small outfit there that I’m doubling as general office gofer, and doing all my own grading as well as the editing, but Jeremy’s also got me and the other editor there competing to pitch him ideas for new shows in our spare time!’

‘Bet you’d be good at that though, wouldn’t you?’ Bella said.

‘Not the sort of rubbish he likes. From what I’ve seen so far, he’s got the creative judgment of a discombobulated goldfish. But I’m going to give it my best shot.’ Holly’s voice slowed as she noticed a Vesuvius of tears erupting all over Bella’s face.

‘What happened?’ she said, stroking Bella’s hair.

‘Dylan,’ Bella said, as if this explained everything.

Holly’s eyes narrowed in confusion.

‘It’s bloody, bastarding Bob, on the cocking jukebox. I was doing fine until this!’

‘What’s wrong with Bob Dylan?’ Holly asked, regretting it as soon as she had.

‘Bob Dylan is Sam’s favourite singer. It’s like they know!’ Bella said, scowling across at a cluster of innocent bystanders at the jukebox. Then she looked hopelessly from Holly to Olivia, her eyes bloodshot.

‘Oh, dear,’ Olivia said, leaning forward to give Bella a hug.

Holly rubbed Bella’s shoulders. ‘Poor B. It is awful now, I know, but it will get better. I think. It has to, doesn’t it?’ Holly looked for direction from Olivia, who smiled and nodded unconvincingly. ‘Um, will it help if I say something about focusing on the good times? Like, you know, it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have—’

‘Oh don’t you dare start with that BOLLOCKS!’ Bella cut in. ‘Nothing but propaganda, perpetrated only by the likes of Moon Pig, to sell pointless cards! I can honestly say that I feel so much worse for having been shat on by Sam than I would do if I hadn’t ever met him!’ She was now swaying, having dispensed with any attempts to conceal her level of inebriation.

‘Are you calling Alfred Lord Tennyson a liar?’ Holly asked.

‘Well surprise me, it was a bloke that said it!’ Bella yelled, ever more irate. ‘And since when is Lord a middle name?’

‘OK,’ Holly said, stroking Bella’s hair again. ‘Let’s take some deep breaths now.’

‘I’ll bet Alfred didn’t have any useful advice on what to do with the stupid little leftovers you have after a break-up, did he?’ Bella said in between deep breaths. ‘For instance, I have this weird little pack of break-up detritus that I’ve been carrying around all day. It’s basically the contents of my “drawer” at his house. You know, the shit I’d leave at his for when I stayed over.’ She paused for a breath, mid-rant. ‘When I left, I just shoved the lot into my rucksack, and now I don’t know what to do with it all. Do I unpack each and every sad bit of toiletry and make sure I use them one by one? That might make for really sad showers?’

‘Can you even say the word toiletries in singular form?’ interjected Olivia, prompting a scowl-ette from Bella.

‘Or, do I pack it away and save it until we ever get back together, or until I meet someone else who is ready to give me a drawer again? Is that sick though?’

‘Little bit,’ Olivia said.

‘Haha,’ snorted Holly, realising something. ‘You’ve got a BOYFRIEND PACK! You beautiful nut-nut!’

‘Just throw it all away, surely?’ Olivia said. ‘Buy new stuff. I don’t know why you didn’t just leave it all there!’

‘Where is it all? Let me at it!’ Holly said.

Reluctantly, Bella produced the Boyfriend Pack from within her rucksack. She opened the bag and upturned it so that the contents splayed out all over the floor. Shampoo miniatures, a small travel hairdryer, hairbrush, manicure set and suchlike.

Holly dived in to claim some of the miniatures. ‘These will come in handy for the gym!’

‘When have you ever been to a gym?’ Olivia said, who had started going to Gym Box every morning at 6 a.m. without fail since moving down to London.

‘I’m going to start. This will make me start!’

‘I guess I could use that hairdryer if you’re not going to use it,’ Olivia said, grabbing it with both hands.

Before long, the bag was empty, save some weathered nail-files, and the problem was solved.

Fuuuuuuuuck, was all Holly could think as she stared at the empty bag. What if she ever broke up with Lawrence? After nearly five years, it would be her life in duplicate. Her Boyfriend Pack would be more than some tiny Dick Whittington pouch; it would probably stretch to three suitcases’ worth.

‘So,’ Bella said, turning to Olivia in a bid to deflect the embarrassment away from herself if only momentarily. ‘How are you, Liv? How have you been coping?’

‘Yeah, fine. Ross has been in touch a few times over the house stuff. He’s finished buying me out, so it feels good not to be tied together by bricks and mortar anymore! I had to see him the other day, just to give him back a few of his things and sign all the papers. I’d thought it would be good to clear the air a little. But it turned out to be like a kind of exit interview, you know, like when you leave a job? He kept telling me all the things I could have done better!’

‘I hope you made sure you gave him ample “360 degree feedback” in return,’ Holly said.

‘Oh I did! I can’t help still missing him a bit though. You know, there are just so many reminders of him everywhere I go. Ridiculous things! Like, a pop-up online advert turned up in my face the other day, for this anti-virus software he used to go on about. It reminded me of how I used to find it so chivalrous, the way he’d spend hours installing updates on my laptop, and programming my phone for me. Now I’ve got no one to do all those things. So I couldn’t help missing the little dweeb when I saw that – just a bit. And oh! Then the other day this big lorry drove by and stopped by me at a traffic light. As I walked past, the driver started singing the first song we ever kissed to!’

‘Weird. What was it?’ Holly asked.

‘Oh God. This really old track from the eighties, by Simple Minds, called “Don’t you forget about me”.’

‘Oh I love that track!’ Bella said, bursting into song, prompting stares from people nearby.

‘But it’s such an old track! That’s why it weirded me out so much that some random lorry driver was singing it, at that exact moment.’

‘Do you think it’s a sign’ Bella said, ‘that you shouldn’t forget him just yet?’

‘Is it fuck,’ Olivia said, taking a sip of her drink.

Bella laughed. ‘I so know what you mean with the reminders though, Liv. Every other day, there’s something else to remind me of an in-joke with Sam.’

‘But you know, it’s easy to go too far with that stuff. You know, drag it out beyond the point of silly,’ Holly said. ‘For instance, do you remember Lucy, our flatmate from uni, when she broke up with Rob?’ she broke off as Olivia nodded in recognition. ‘He dumped her on graduation day, the poor lamb. While the rest of us posed for photos in our gowns, Lucy was hiding in a ditch behind the university library, weeping into her mortar board, slowly dismantling the visions in her head that she’d had of them going travelling, of moving to London, living out their careers together. From her ditch, she had sat and watched as her dreams scattered into the air with all the mortar-boards. Well, that’s how she put it to us after three gins later that day, anyway.’

Bella’s eyes began to well with empathy for this poor girl she’d never met. ‘Wow that’s a ceremonious stinker of a dumping!’

‘Exactly,’ Olivia said, ‘see, at least Sam didn’t do that to you!’

Holly nodded. ‘But yeah – my point is, it was so terrible a dumping that even for weeks after it happened, we’d be like, “Do you want a cup of tea Lucy?” and she’d be all, “Oh, Rob used to make me cups of tea…” and start bawling again.’

They all laughed.

‘Poor Lucy, she really did milk it, no pun intended.’

‘So yeah, to some extent you have to be a bit disciplined about this stuff,’ Olivia said. ‘You almost need a rule. Something like a “no mentioning their name more than five times a day… or, “no listening to songs that remind you of your ex” rule. Just til a certain time has passed.’

‘Sounds a bit regimented, surely?’ Bella said.

‘Ha! Liv invented regimented. She’s the most disciplined person I know!’ Holly chuckled.

Olivia grinned with pride. ‘Everything in life is easier to deal with if it’s compartmentalised and under control!’

‘But – but – we can’t be that hard on ourselves straight away,’ Bella said. ‘Surely we’re allowed some wallowing time? For instance, I know I’ll probably fall apart when I see the first dandelion clock of the season.’

‘Why?’ Holly said.

‘Oh, there’s just this funny thing Sam used to do with them.’ Her eyes began to water.

‘What, tell the time?’ Holly said.

‘Well. Yes.’

‘Everyone does that, B. That’s not so special,’ Olivia said.

Bella looked as though Olivia had just trampled all over her palatial sandcastle. ‘No they don’t. Not the way he did it. He used to pretend to be the speaking clock voice, and do the whole “time sponsored by Accurist” bit, like it used to say in the nineties. You had to be there.’

‘Evidently,’ Olivia said.

‘OK, Bella darling,’ Holly began. ‘I know you don’t want to hear this, but I’m going to say it in case it will help. Your Sam was a complete ARSE! I mean, he used to call you MISS PIGGY behind your back.’

Bella snorted.

‘He didn’t!’ Olivia said. ‘So that’s where your Miss Piggy Complex comes from?’

Holly stared at Bella and thought that, in spite of her dark brown hair, her round, symmetrical face bore an ever-so-small resemblance to Jim Henson’s most famous creation. And yet still there were some things you must absolutely never say to a person, and ‘you look a little bit like a brunette Miss Piggy’ was chief among them.

‘You absolute Muppet!’ Olivia punned, unwittingly. ‘Why would you put up with that?’

‘Blimey,’ Bella said. ‘Listen to us, whining on about our break-ups like a couple of miserable reprobates. We’re like some lonely hearts club, only without the band.’

‘Sad Bastards Anonymous, more like,’ Olivia suggested, smoothing out her hair, which had become crumpled from all the recent hugging. She began foraging for her handbag under the coat pile.

‘No…’ Holly said, ‘you guys are like some kind of bizarre break-up cult!’

Bella’s eyes dilated with excitement. ‘Break-up Club, surely? That’s got a better ring to it? Yes! That’s what we are!’ Bella lurched forward, while Holly and Olivia exchanged looks of concern. ‘HAHAHAHaaaa!’ She clamped a hand over her mouth. ‘Um, has anyone got a tissue? I think I’ve just been a bit sick in my mouth,’ she mumbled through her fingers.

‘No,’ Olivia said, clearly disgusted, while Holly dug around in her bag for a tissue and handed it to Bella.

‘Ha! And that can be our strapline!’ Bella said through giggles, having wiped her mouth of anything offensive. She pulled out a moleskin notebook and began to jot things down in it. ‘The Break-up club..’

‘You cannot be serious,’ Holly said.

‘LOL. LOL,’ Olivia said.

Everyone slowly turned to face her.

‘Liv. Did you just say “laugh out loud” – like, as an acronym?’ Holly asked,

Olivia nodded. ‘I’m afraid the answer is yes. Yes I did.’

Bella groaned. ‘Liv, you div. You can just laugh, you know. You don’t need to, like, declare the laugh.’

‘I’m sorry. I can’t help it. It’s Ross. He barely said whole words in all the time we were together. He spent so much time in those chat rooms! You’ll need to bear with me while his geek vernacular wears off.’

‘Anyway, we can always think up another strapline for the club,’ Bella said, deadpan.

‘You nut-nut; there isn’t really a club. We were just twatting about,’ Olivia said, looking at Holly. ‘Seriously, we’re not that unhinged.’

‘Yes, seriously, hon, we’ll be fine,’ Bella said, her eyes bloodshot, mascara all over her face, and snot congregating around her nostrils.

‘I don’t think you should be so quick to knock it, actually,’ Holly said.

Bella squinted at her in confusion.

‘Yes. In fact, I was just thinking how it’s kind of serendipitous that you guys have coincided. It’s nice that you’re there for each other, to help each other through this difficult time.’

‘Next you’ll be saying you’re jealous,’ Olivia said.

‘Ha! No, you’re all right,’ Holly said, taking a large sip of her drink and accidentally finishing it.