When I think of my life, even before Richard had abandoned me, I can’t help but notice a pattern. My father had abandoned my mother. Richard had abandoned me. And I don’t know how much longer I can hold on. The girls are only toddlers, in the hands of an inept, unreliable mess of a mother. I have no job, no one to help me, no one to turn to. What other choice do I have but to give them up?
I close my mother’s diary. It seems that even before our birth, fate had been leading to that inexorable end of our being abandoned, which was to become the leitmotif of our lives. Look at my mother. Look at my sister. Look at me, multiply abandoned, over and over again.
Gabe knew what I’d been through as a child. He knew how important love and family are to me. He also knew that I didn’t deserve any of this. I’m not just a normal dumped girl. I’m a girl who’s suffered abandonment by her father before she was even born, then by her mother because of alcohol, to continue being abandoned by foster parents.
It had gone on and on for years. I thought I had finally found the person to be still with in this crazy, sordid world. But Gabe is not the one. Or perhaps I am not the one, either. Perhaps I am unlovable. Perhaps I scare men away with my sob story. But it doesn’t matter anymore, because from now on, I will be my own woman. On my own. By choice. That way no one will ever leave me again.
I had sworn to myself that I would never be like our mum, no matter what. And I’d put on a thick set of armour. I’d even done very well throughout school, although my tendencies to keep myself to myself would have made me somewhat of an oddball loner, had it not been for Hope. After all, who wanted to hear my sob story? And to be quite honest, I didn’t want to tell it either. Let them think whatever they wanted about me.
‘Faith! Faith! Are you all right? Open up!’ a voice calls as someone bangs on my front door. It takes me a full minute to recognise Hope’s voice. Dammit, now there will be no peace until I answer her.
I open an eye, just one, as my head can’t take the full force of daylight. Which room am I in? I don’t recognise it. I open the other eye and prop myself up, but this room is not Gabe’s music room where I’ve been camping out. It’s my entire sodding flat in Truro, and – oh crap the floor is covered in bottles! And I don’t even remember buying them. I can’t be doing this again!
When did I come back here? I must have drunk my heart out, because I feel sick. In one hungover glance, I make out the shop-bought chocolate cake I’d managed to polish off despite my complete loss of appetite, and an array of used tissues resting on the sea of bottles like white, puffy clouds.
What a night.
With the sheer shock of it, I don’t remember much, except for turning off my mobile to stop Gabe’s yammering at how sorry he was. I don’t even remember bringing Jawsy here, nor do I remember the drive back. But I do remember sobbing for hours on end, with no one but my own miserable, dumped arse. No wonder my voice is hoarse and I feel completely dried up and empty. If I’d called my sister or my coastal girls – Nat, Nina and Rosie – they’d have dropped everything to come and comfort me and tell me that it would all be all right. Which wasn’t what I needed last night, nor now. Because nothing is going to be all right anymore. Snow White has finally woken up and seen the dwarves for what they really are – misogynistic bastards preying on a lonely girl.
‘Faith! Come on!’ Hope insists.
I open my mouth to answer her, if only to get her to stop shouting and banging, but nothing comes out. My throat is parched with all the alcohol I’ve thrown down my neck and that found its way up again a few hours later.
I can’t believe it’s only been one night since… since… It feels like I’ve been lying here forever. Maybe I should stay here for another forever, or at least until the numbness subsides.
Because that’s it – I don’t feel any pain like the first time Gabe dumped me for Vanessa. The first time, I had gone through all the standard stages, from shock to denial, to utter madness, endless misery, asking myself over and over where I had gone wrong. Weeks of holing myself up and pretending to work from home. Days without washing or even eating. And Hope swooping in to save the day, dragging me under the shower and washing my hair while I just stood there and cried.
But none of that this time. Now I actually feel… nothing. As if I were dead. Empty. Like an old sock that someone’s thrown aside. I roll over as the deafening echo of Gabe’s voice comes back to me in a myriad of I’m sorrys and forgive mes and What else can I dos as he explained that he didn’t know she was pregnant.
And then his voice had disappeared as I’d slipped into what I can only think is a state of shock. How else can you describe being completely unresponsive to any stimulation from the outside world?
‘If you don’t open this door right now, I swear I’ll break it down myself!’ Hope roars. ‘And then I’m going to fly to goddam Thailand and beat the crap out of that upstart low-life who calls himself a musician! Remember I pound meat to a pulp for a living!’
And knowing her as one who does not utter idle threats, she will.
I slide off the settee and drag myself across what seems like the endless deserted wasteland of my life to let her in, almost tripping over a wheelie suitcase I don’t even remember packing the night before.
Apparently, I had cleared the place of every new trace of me (as there hadn’t been any old ones left). Our coverlet, our sheets and all of our most precious keepsakes, which I had brought to the beach house in a fit of absolute bliss, now lay in a pile inside the open bags. It looked like my entire life had imploded in one tiny puff of colour.
And I’m supposed to be an interior designer who makes homes better. Ha – what an impostor I am. I go into people’s houses with promises of turning them into homes. How could I ever expect to make a happy home when I myself come from a broken one?
I clutch at the doorknob, open the door and there she is, my rock, carrying the contents of an entire shop with her.
‘Hey…’ she says as she plops down her shopping bags, eyeing me critically without telling me how crappy I look. She knows better than to say anything, let alone ask how I am, bless her. Besides, my outfit of pyjama bottoms and old wool sweater – complete with chocolate ice cream stains – are definitely a tell-tale sign.
‘Who told you?’ I ask as she comes in and notices the empty bottles, but says nothing, bless her.
‘You left me a voicemail. I didn’t find it until this morning so I drove the kids to a friend’s and went to Sainsbury’s. I’ve got absolutely all of your favourite foods.’
Ever since we were bounced around from foster home to foster home awaiting adoption, Hope was always the one to take care of me although she was only fifteen minutes older. Even now, when I’m down, who comes to my rescue but my faithful sister with a bag full of tricks and treats? Only this time, I fear, there is no remedy in her bag for a twice-broken heart. There is no pie, no chocolate or fried chicken in the world that will put it back together again.
The food, I can’t even bear to look at, let alone enjoy. She lines everything up on the counter, awaiting a response.
‘Thanks,’ I manage from under the blanket.
As I watch her from the corner of the settee, she switches the kettle on and begins to busy herself, opening and closing cabinets, the creaking and cracking sounds reminding me that this flat is an absolute shite-hole with its cheap countertop and cabinets – nothing like the beautiful and sturdy kitchen Henry had first designed for the beach house. Or the one he’s planning at the moment.
Henry, so dependable, steadfast and true. Why couldn’t I have fallen for someone solid like him, rather than a rock star who was always a bit OTT?
Hope comes back to the sofa with the Home Hug I had given her when she was pregnant with Jowen. I look up at her and she shrugs.
‘I didn’t know if you’d found yours yet,’ she says, putting it on my lap and gently pulling our mother’s diary out of my reach. Instinctively my arms wrap around the cushion in a life-long gesture that is ingrained in me. Hope pulls my blanket closer around me, her warm hands lingering on my shoulders and for a fleeting moment, we’re back in one of our former homes, and I have the feeling that nothing has changed. We can only depend on each other.
At the beach house, I’d been completely surrounded by Vanessa’s stuff, from her mugs to her bath mats as I hadn’t been able to access most of my own things yet. I’m living on borrowed items, and from the woman who stole my life, to boot.
Everything at the beach house had screamed of her after only the six months she’d been there, while of the three wonderful years Gabe and I had lived and loved there, barely a whisper. And now? Where am I, in my life?
‘I’ve lost e-everything,’ I hiccup, tears falling again.
Hope doesn’t answer me, but goes back to the counter where the kettle is ready, and returns with a hot water bottle and a steaming cup of instant cocoa. Hope has never been one to fuss. She is pragmatic and straightforward – just what I need right now.
‘Here,’ she says, tucking the hot water bottle under my throw. ‘You haven’t lost anything but a bloody philanderer. Take my word for it – consider yourself lucky it happened now and not when you had kids together.’
‘Is that supposed to make me feel better?’
‘Not if you’re a muppet, no. But if you have one ounce of vision, you’ll see he did you a favour, Faith.’
‘How? How is leaving me – twice – a favour?’ I demand, torturing the chimney bit of my Home Hug between my fingers. ‘And having a baby with her, when he promised to have it with me and—’ I shut up, realising how pathetic I sound.
‘He’s gone, Faith,’ she sentences as she sits down on the pouffe before me. ‘Look at him. He may well be topper of the charts, loved by millions. But he doesn’t love you or even that steaming psychopath Vanessa.’
‘You don’t think so either?’ I ask, clinging to her words.
Hope snorts. ‘God, no. I think her wild child image appeals to him because it simply makes him more noticeable. They’re like Sid and Nancy, Kurt and Courtney. Believe me, he doesn’t love anyone but himself. Because he doesn’t know what love is. I already pity that poor baby.’
To be honest, so do I. Not so much because of Gabe as because of Vanessa. A baby in her hands would definitely be at risk, poor thing.
‘Yuh, poor, poor baby…’ I moan under my breath. It will never know what it’s like to have a loving mother. Just like Hope and I, really. We have a lot in common with this baby already.
‘At the end of the day, Faith, he’s done it before, and you survived. Well, barely. But this time you’re stronger.’
I snort as I look down at my socks, realising they don’t match. Not that I care.
‘Of course you are. There’s nothing more he can throw at you that will hurt you. You are now completely, utterly and totally immune to him, Faith.’
‘Am I?’ I sniff, wiping my eyes and nose on my sleeve. Hope passes me the tissue box.
‘Here. Yes, you are. You are a strong girl, even if right now you might not think so.’
‘Hope, do you often think about Mum?’ I venture.
She puckers her lips and tilts her head as if trying to remember her. ‘I used to. Not so much anymore. I have my own life to live now thank God, and I suggest you do the same. She and our “father” are both gone, and the damage they caused is up to us to fix now.’
She’s right, of course. But saying it is one thing, while executing it is a completely different story.
‘So what’s your next step?’ she asks while cleaning up around me.
‘Cash the cheque for all our losses. Charge him a bloody fortune,’ I say through gritted teeth as I rake a hand through the mess that my hair is. All I know is that I’m certainly not going back to the beach house. I’ve earnt the right to wallow for at least one day. Tomorrow I’ll have to peel myself off the floor and sort out my crew. But today, I’ve earnt the right to be miserable.
Hope cackles. ‘Good for you, I was going to say! Why don’t you come and stay with me and the kids, then? We have plenty of room and they would love to spend some time with you.’
‘Oh, I dunno. I don’t know what to do right now.’
‘Why don’t you start with a shower?’ she quips, wrinkling her nose.
‘Do I stink?’
‘Well, let’s say that you don’t exactly smell like a bowl of roses.’
I take a whiff of my clothes. ‘Ugh. Sorry.’
‘In any case,’ she says, ‘not that the baby will be raised by them as a couple, with all that ceramic throwing.’
I scratch my head. ‘You mean pottery throwing? What’s that got to do with anything?’
‘No, I mean crockery. I heard that—’ Hope bites her lip.
‘What?’ I say, propping myself onto one elbow. ‘What have you heard?’
Hope rolls her eyes. ‘I was trying to spare you some more heartache, but yes, apparently they have these huge fights in front of everyone. Last week she threw a plate at him in a restaurant, and there were noodles hanging from his face.’
‘How do you even know all that?’
‘The miracles of the net. There’s even a picture.’
I want to laugh at the idea of them being at loggerheads – truly, I do – but my head hurts too much.
‘What if the baby turns out like her?’ I ask Hope.
She shrugs. ‘The way I see it, either way, the kid’s doomed. Are you going to sit up or am I going to have to spoon-feed you?’
I reluctantly prop myself up further. ‘I’m not really hungry, Hope.’
‘Of course you’re not. That’s why I made you your favourite.’
I crane my neck towards the counter. ‘You made me vegetable soup?’
‘You bet I did,’ she says with a smile as she stands up, ruffling my hair as she passes me by.
‘But do go take that shower, Faith. By the time you get back it’ll all be ready, dessert and all.’
I watch as she busies herself removing lids and heating stuff like the great mum she is. Jowen and Verity are the luckiest kids in the world.
I get to my feet, my head still slightly spinning, but manage to throw myself at her back, wrapping my arms around her waist and resting my head on her shoulder. ‘You’re the best of the bestest sisters ever,’ I murmur.
‘Get on with it, you,’ she gently chides me, but I know she loves it. We’d never had any displays of affection from anyone but each other, and it was something we hadn’t lost over the years. If anything, we became closer and closer with each family that returned us to the sender.
Hope blames herself because she was a wild child, but I blame myself because I was much too needy. I guess that hasn’t changed. Always afraid of being abandoned until Gabe and I set up house together. And now the other shoe has finally dropped.
‘Thank you, sis, for being there for me. What would I do without you?’
She turns and puts her hands on her hips, and I wonder if our mother used to do that. I can scarcely remember her.
‘You’d probably starve and catch lice,’ she says with a laugh. ‘Shower.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ I say with an American salute as I move towards the bathroom. I only hope that some of my sorrows will be washed down the drain, but I sincerely doubt it.
I throw myself under a hot shower and lather up, wondering how I’m going to break it to my team. If only I could finally catch the attention of the Wickfords with my work on the beach house. I had been banking on making it into the trade magazines and thus increasing my chances of being noticed by them. I’ve done my homework and know exactly what they like. But first, I have to make them know I actually exist.
After my shower, I get dressed into a pair of cleanish leggings and a long-sleeved T-shirt and wool socks. I’m always cold when I’m miserable, go figure. And then I sit on the settee again and Hope forces a bowl of soup on me. I manage to eat a few spoonfuls without hurling, but that’s where I draw the line. The tiramisu will have to wait for a better day, because this day – the first where I realise that I’m definitely on my own once again – is a never-ending nightmare.
‘I’m sorry, Faith, but I’ve got to get to work now,’ Hope says, storing the food in the freezer and collecting the now empty plastic containers, which she shoves into her carrier. ‘Or I can cancel, if you need me.’
And ground her here, next to a snivelling wreck, when she could be dazzling her patrons and doing what she loves best?
‘Don’t be silly, Hope. You go to work. And thank you. I really appreciate it.’
‘Are you sure? I’m owed a few days, so—’
‘No, save them for the kids. Honestly, I’m fine.’
She continues to watch me, so I pick up the remote in a gesture that looks like I’m actually taking interest in something besides my own misery.
‘If you’re sure…?’
‘Go,’ I say, turning the TV on. ‘You’re never alone with Netflix.’
She chuckles. ‘That would be a great slogan.’
‘Aren’t I clever,’ I drawl.
‘Okay, then. But call me if you need me, Faith – even for a chat.’
As if. Once she gets to work it’s going to be hell broken loose as usual in that kitchen. ‘Of course. Now go.’
She turns to go, but then comes back, bending over me and kissing my cheek. ‘Bye, sweetie.’
‘Bye, sis – and thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you,’ I say, feeling my throat getting all knotty again as she smiles and gently closes the door. Easy, Faith. You don’t want to cry yourself dry again – you’ve still got the whole sodding night ahead of you.
As I’d imagined, there is nothing on TV that I’m in the mood for, and despite all the food Hope has brought me, there is nothing I want. I don’t want to read anything, I don’t want to do anything. I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m all cried out, but I’m not sleepy – just absolutely exhausted, from head to toe.
I turn over on the settee and watch the muted scenes of a family having breakfast. Outside the sun is shining – it’s got to be California – and they’re all so chatty and chipper and even the family dog is wearing an ear-to-ear smile. ‘Yeah,’ I tell them. ‘It’s all a bed of roses until he gets some other girl pregnant.’
I flick the remote and the scene changes to a couple kissing so I immediately flick it again and there’s some bloke in a space suit. He is floating off, untethered, into outer space as a woman clutching at the commands deck is silently screaming in what I can only assume is utter despair, “Come back!” And that’s exactly how I feel, watching my life float off into a galaxy far, far away, and there’s not a single thing I can do to stop it.