She laughed too loudly. “Yes! Always!”
I willed her away, begging her silently to fuck off out of there, but she did entirely the opposite. My breath hitched as she took his arm in hers and rested her head on his shoulder and dragged him over to her car.
Cosy. They looked cosy. And she looked happy, and keen, and… in love. She was in love with him. It was written all over her face.
“Let’s go,” she said. “Bed calling.”
Bed calling.
He smiled and got in the passenger seat and together they drove away.
Together.
Bed calling. Together.
And my heart stopped.
***
Mark
I was aching to get rid of her, but she wouldn’t leave. She switched off the car engine outside my house, and lingered there, clearly angling for an invite. But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to.
I didn’t want her in there. As nice as she was, and as well-meaning as her intentions, I just didn’t want her in there.
I faked a yawn. “I’m exhausted. Too old for partying.”
She smiled. “You need a coffee and a back rub. You must be freezing.” She reached out and squeezed my arm through my shirt, and her hand stayed there.
“I need my bed,” I said. “Early start tomorrow.”
“Spoilsport.” She giggled. “I could wake you up… rustle you up some breakfast…”
“That’s very kind, but I’ll set the alarm.” I leaned over to peck her on the cheek. “Goodnight, Jenny.”
She stared as I opened the door, her mouth flapping as she tried to think of something to say.
I felt like an asshole, but that was nothing new, holding up my hand in farewell as I bundled myself in through my front door.
I held my breath until I heard her car start up. Thank fuck for that.
I flicked on the lights and the same old empty house greeted me. I turned up the heating and prepared a fire in the grate, then went to grab a jumper. There was one lying over the dining table, and as I picked it up I noticed my mobile on the side. I hadn’t taken it, hardly seeing the point, but it was buzzing and whining and flashing green, creeping its way across the table top.
I picked it up. Ten new messages.
Jesus.
Helen: I thought you liked me.
Helen: But now I know.
Helen: It was her wasn’t it?
Helen: I feel so stupid.
Helen: You’ve broken my heart!!!!!
Helen: I thought I meant something. But I mean nothing. I’m just a joke to you, aren’t I? Just a stupid kid!
Helen: Why is she so much better than me??
Helen: I love you. I love you more than she does.
Helen: I’ll never bother you again.
Helen: It’s over for me.
I fired one back.
Where are you?
Helen: Why do you care?
Of course I care. Where are you? Are you still at Elizabeth’s?
Helen: No.
Where? At home?
Helen: No.
Jesus, Helen, where are you?
Helen: I’m thinking. Down by the river. I like it here. Enjoy your time with her.
My patience expired, faded to nothing behind a plume of rage and worry. I tried her number but she didn’t answer, then called through the pathetic list of Much Arlock taxi numbers, searching for someone to pick her up. The closest to her was forty-five minutes out, already engaged on a city run. That was way too long.
I checked out my reflection in the mirror, and I looked tired. I was way over the limit, far too drunk to risk driving.
Under any other circumstances I’d never have considered it.
Fucking hell.
My fingers were angry little blurs as I sent my final response.
Don’t fucking move. I mean it, Helen. Don’t you dare.
I splashed cold water over my face, swilled my mouth out with mouthwash and grabbed my car keys.
***
She was easy to spot in the headlights, a little dark huddle of sadness on the picnic bench. I pulled up and left the engine running, grabbing hold of her before she could protest.
She was crying. Hysterical. A flailing mass of teenage drama.
“What?” I said. “What is all this about?”
She got to her feet and her eyes were streaming. “You’re with someone else!” she cried. “You love someone else!”
“What?! What the…” My jaw hit the floor, dumbfounded by the absurdity. “Miss Monkton? You’re talking about Miss Monkton?!”
“Bed calling. Let’s get all cosy in bed and laugh about stupid Helen Palmer!”
“That’s absurd.”
“Is it?!”
“Of course it is!” I ran my hands through my hair, and caught my breath, reeling at the insanity, of this… this crazy drama, this abject teenage devastation, this irresponsibility I’d been dancing with. “I’m not with Miss Monkton. I’m not with anyone.”
“But she said…”
“I don’t care what she said. She gave me a lift home, Helen. She drove me home, as a friendly colleague, and dropped me at the door, and went to her own bed in her own house. She’s there now, as far as I know.”
“She did?” Helen’s lip was trembling, her face deathly pale. She looked like a ghost in the darkness, a frightened, lonely, sad little ghost.
“Yes. She did.” I sighed. “How the hell did you get here?”