I slam the brakes and jump out of the car and onto my poor victim who is on her knees.
‘Oh my God, I’m so so sorry, are you all right? Lie still, let me call an ambulance!’ I cry, feeling her for broken bones. And then she looks up and I gasp and jump back as if I’d seen the Antichrist. It’s Vanessa Chatsbury in the flesh. ‘Are… you okay? The baby…?’
With my help, she picks herself up and dusts herself off. ‘No, it’s okay, Faith. You didn’t hit me, I just panicked and tripped. I’m okay…’
She takes my hand and cackles. ‘God, am I unfit with this fat arse! I was just popping in to see you, funnily enough. I’m sorry I didn’t call, but I didn’t have your number. You must be wondering what I’m doing here.’
I stare at her, my mouth opening and closing like my little Jawsy. ‘Yes. What are you doing here?’
‘Long story. Can I come up?’
I study her briefly. Apart from the fact that I have envisaged running her over, back and forth, a million times, I am grateful that in reality I have inflicted no harm on her. Granted, she is pale and blotchy at the same time and it looks like she’s literally cried her make-up off. Break-ups are painful. I’ve done the legwork.
I move to one side to let her in through the main entrance, wondering what the hell she could possibly want from me, seeing as she has everything that I have always aimed for in life, professional recognition included.
I am especially aware of the state I’m in. And I’m also aware of the fact that my place is so tiny, but really, living on my own and working practically eighteen hours of the day and coming here only to sleep and shower, who do I need more space for?
‘I come in peace,’ she huffs as we stop at my front door.
Peace, between her and me? This I need to see.
I guide her inside and to the settee onto which she eases herself slowly.
‘Thanks,’ she wheezes. ‘Sorry again for popping round without notice, but I have a feeling you wouldn’t have wanted to speak to me. Not that I can blame you.’ And then she takes a good look at me. ‘Oh my God, Faith, what happened to your face?’
My face? She looks absolutely awful, with peroxide-tipped dark roots shooting out of her head and a sweaty face. ‘It’s nothing. Would… you like a glass of water?’ I offer. ‘A cushion?’
‘Yes, please, to both,’ she huffs, adjusting herself as I dash forward to shove one of my Home Hugs behind her back.
‘Ah, perfect, thank you,’ she says and I go to the sink and pour her a glass of water, all the while still wondering what the hell she wants. Is she, as is her custom, going to lull me into a false sense of security, only to go completely psycho-bitch on me? Although, to be honest, she looks too exhausted.
‘Here, put your feet up,’ I say despite myself as I pass her the glass, wondering what the hell is wrong with me, letting the enemy into my home.
She fans herself, shaking her head. ‘Ah… great. I don’t know why you’re being so kind to me, but thank you.’
I shrug. ‘You’re expecting a baby.’
‘But that’s the very reason why you should hate me, Faith,’ she says softly.
‘I know. I did. But not anymore.’
‘I know. We’re done, too.’
I’d say I’m sorry, but in truth, I’m not.
‘I know what you’re thinking. That Gabe and I slept together long before he left you. Which we did. I know – he’s awful, I’m awful. We’re both awful, and now, at my weakest, karma’s come back to bite me on the ass.’
‘Why, is the baby okay?’ I blurt out.
‘Yeah, she’s okay.’
‘Awh, it’s a she?’
She stops. ‘You realise that you’re acting way too nicely? If it had been you, I’d have kicked your arse all the way to Timbuktu.’
‘I did kick your arse,’ I confess. ‘Plus I almost just ran you over.’
She grins. ‘That’s okay, I deserve it.’
Which still doesn’t answer my erstwhile question. ‘Vanessa? Why are you here?’
‘To tell you that I’m sorry. You and Gabe were happy when I came along.’
I shrug. ‘I was, or thought I was. Gabe obviously wasn’t.’
‘He never is.’
How true.
She half-laughs. ‘You’d think so. It’s his specialty, isn’t it? Playing with girls’ hearts like that. But as far as I know, he isn’t with anyone. For all I care.’
I don’t care either. I’m done with crying and wondering where I went wrong. I now know it’s not my fault. I did what I could for Gabe. I have absolutely nothing to blame myself for. I was a good girlfriend, and if he didn’t appreciate me, that’s just too bad for him.
‘My sources tell me he’s going back to Thailand tomorrow. He has to finish his tour. Good riddance. He’s ruined my life completely. I can’t sleep, eat or think about anything except how he’s humiliated me.’
Well, luckily I’m over it, while Vanessa is only at the beginning of her personal hell.
‘What about the baby?’ I enquire. ‘Will he be back in time for the birth?’
She stares at me. ‘Okay, let me be clear. I don’t want him anywhere near me or the baby. Ever.’
‘Okay,’ I say carefully. If I know her at all, she’ll change her mind in a few days. She’ll want him back. But again, it has nothing to do with me anymore.
‘So how are things with you?’ she asks.
‘Me?’
‘Yeah. I hear the house renos are coming along well. I’m relieved. I hate that horrid theme.’
‘But… you… designed it,’ I stammer.
‘I did,’ she agrees. ‘But my tastes have now changed. I guess it has to do with being constantly sober since I found out I was pregnant.’
I still can’t believe we are having a conversation, let alone this one.
‘Look,’ she says, pulling out a tissue, and for a moment I think she’s about to cry. But she only blows her nose, thank God. ‘You need to know that I have always envied you.’
‘Well, many women want Gabe.’
She looks up at me with those bloodshot eyes. ‘No, not because of him, but because you are the self-made It girl.’
My eyes almost pop out of my head. ‘You’re joking, right?’
She looks up. ‘Why would I be? You’ve worked extremely hard to be where you are now. You clients rave about you. I want to be more like you. I never wanted to hurt you, you know.’
‘Then why have you always been trying to ruin me?’ I ask softly.
She sniffs and bunches her tissue up in her fist. ‘I have been, haven’t I? I have always looked down on you as the middle-class upstart from nowhere, and I couldn’t understand why my aristocratic connections weren’t enough to erase you once and for all. I was afraid of you professionally.’
‘So you thought to hurt me by taking my boyfriend…’
She looks up at me with big dark eyes. ‘Yes. I’m sorry.’
It’s so bloody funny I can’t help but grin. ‘Don’t be. You’ve done me a favour.’
‘So you forgive me, then?’
‘Not unless this is one of your usual ploys to get something else out of me? Because I have absolutely nothing that you would want.’ Except for maybe Jawsy. He’s one hell of a conversationalist.
‘No, I promise, no games. I just want us to stop feuding.’
I shrug. ‘As long as you behave yourself and stop trying to steal my clients.’
She lowers her head. Apparently she has just discovered a thing called shame.
‘All right. I promise.’
‘Good. Thank you.’
‘And maybe we could be friends…?’ she suggests, blowing her nose again.
‘Er… I don’t know about that, Vanessa…’
‘No, you’re right! I’m a disaster!’ she wails.
‘Don’t say that,’ I plead. As much as I dislike Vanessa, I never wanted her to be miserable. I only didn’t want her to be happy with my boyfriend.
‘Can we… be at least professional friends? Recommend suppliers to each other and all that sort of stuff?’
I hesitate. None of this is really Vanessa’s fault, at the end of the day. It’s Gabe’s fault. He’s the one I have an issue with.
‘And maybe hang out? I don’t have many friends left, you know, after…’
‘Well,’ I debate, wondering what I’m getting myself into. Vanessa is anything but friend material.
She runs a tired hand through her new bob. It kind of looks nice on her. She looks almost normal without the bizarre hair. ‘God, what I’d do to never have met him.’
Her and me both.
Her hand slides down to her belly. ‘Do you think it’s better to have loved and lost, or to have never loved, Faith?’ she asks me as if I was the bloody oracle. But on second thought, she’s right to ask my opinion as I’m the expert on losing a bloke. I’ve done it three times in the past three years, and two of those in the last few months.
‘I… guess it is better to have loved and lost. You would never have had a baby – your daughter – to look forward to,’ I answer, thinking of Henry. Would I have preferred to have never met him? I know he and I could never hit it off. For a million reasons, plus the obvious one that he lies next to at night. And yet, I wish I’d had the chance.
‘It was always you,’ she breathes as if exhausted. ‘Every time, all he talked about was you. Even when we were in bed—’
‘Yes, well, that’s a little too much information, Vanessa.’
‘Again, Faith. I truly am sorry, for doing that to you.’
I shrug. ‘You were in love. I guess that’s kind of a synonym for blindness.’
She wipes her eyes and giggles. ‘Yeah! I can’t believe that you and I are having this conversation. It shows that, at the end of the day, it’s all about female solidarity, isn’t it?’
I nod in agreement. ‘I think that there should be more of it.’
‘So, how’s working with Henry?’
‘You know Henry?’
‘Of course – everyone knows Henry. He’s an absolute gem, and so so talented. And of course, a knicker-melter.’
I snort.
‘You don’t think so?’ she asks. ‘Oh my God, you’re turning red! No!’
‘No, what?’ I ask, trying to play it cool as the heat rushes up from my stomach, blasting its way up my face and to the tips of my hair.
‘You’ve fallen for Henry Turner, haven’t you?’
I look up at her, my former nemesis, and find in her eyes an understanding that I never thought I’d see. So I’m probably just imagining it.
‘No.’
‘Liar. I can see it all over your face. I don’t blame you. He’d be perfect for you.’
‘Fat lot of good it does me,’ I mutter as I swipe at a tear straying down my own cheek this time. What is wrong with me? I haven’t cried in months, and I have to go and do it in front of bloody Vanessa?
Her face softens. ‘Hey… why don’t you just tell him your feelings?’
‘Because he’s gone back to his wife,’ I blurt out in a squeak. ‘Among other things.’ These two definitely have something in common. Maybe they should hook up.
‘Oh. Well, that does it. He has always been remarkably loyal.’
‘Hurray for loyalty,’ I say with fake cheer.
‘I’ll bet he fancied you, too,’ Vanessa says.
‘Yes, well,’ I say, using one of his expressions. Like it or not, Henry has left a visible mark on me, and I don’t mean the black eye. That was either Gabe or Travis playing silly buggers.
Vanessa downs the rest of her water and struggles to her feet. ‘I really have to run to my gyno appointment. But it was good talking to you.’
‘Do you need a ride or something?’ I ask before I can help myself.
She stops and looks up at me. ‘Thank you – my parents are taking me. They’re being really supportive and have promised to help me raise the baby.’
I swallow a lump in my throat. I have no idea how it got there. ‘That’s… family for you…’
‘Yeah. My mum especially is over the moon.’
‘Oh. Okay. Good luck then.’
‘And you, Faith. I wish you all the best. Talk soon?’
I nod.
‘Good. See you!’
‘Uhm, Vanessa?’
She looks at me, her face serene.
‘What… made you change like this?’ I ask.
She smiles and rubs her bump. ‘Motherhood. I want to be the best I can for my little girl. Nothing else matters now, you know?’
I swallow the rock in my throat and nod again. ‘I know,’ I whisper.
And with one last smile, she squeezes my hand and waddles out the door, obviously much happier and at peace with herself. Lucky her. Because the mere thought that I could have had Gabe’s baby, as much as I wanted it, now makes me shiver in horror.
I understand now that mine has been a teenage obsession for my boyfriend who became a rock star and grew out of me. I was not in love with Gabe, but the idea of an amazing life next to someone I’d dreamt of for so long.
But now, that dream is over, thank God. If only I could talk to Henry. But to what end? He’s happy with his ex-wife. I can’t question his actions. I have absolutely no right to. Family comes first.
*
It is finally World Monuments night. Jowen has got his Chrysler building suit on, which is just a zipper job dividing the dome part from the rest of the body, while Verity looks formidable as the Fearless Girl, with her bronze-painted hands on her bronze hips and chin raised in defiance.
‘You guys are perfect!’ I exclaim as I spray some more coloured hair spray to secure Verity’s stiff ponytail. ‘You’ll be great!’
She nods. ‘I know, I know. Auntie Fi?’
‘Yes?’
‘Thank you for being here.’
I wink at her. ‘I wouldn’t have missed it for… the world!’
‘Corny!’ Verity says with a giggle.
But it’s true – how many of us go through life never actually enjoying its tiny, insignificant moments? Even here, backstage, we are all moving under the directions of one of Verity’s teachers who is waving a clipboard to shoo us around like cattle while not enjoying a single moment of it.
‘Hi,’ I say as I near her.
She whirls around. ‘Ah! North America,’ she tells me, as if I didn’t know.
‘I just wanted to say that everything looks great.’
Her face lights up. ‘Really?’
‘Yes, really. You’ve done an amazing job, and from here it’s all pretty much a no-brainer. I’d hate for you to miss the real enjoyment.’
‘The enjoyment?’ she echoes, wondering what the hell I’m on about.
‘Look at all the children’s faces – look at the parents. See what a great time they’re having, and how excited they are? If you enjoy it, too, you’ll remember more of it.’
She finally nods, if only to get rid of me, but I can’t help but spread this feeling of living life to its full because you never know when things will go pear-shaped. ‘I suppose you’re right. Thank you.’
I beam at her. Where has this come from? ‘You’re very welcome.’
‘Right,’ she says, turning away from me. ‘We’re doing Asia first, then Europe, then the Americas, and finally Africa, so please assemble with your continent promptly. Now, please, Tempus Fugit!’
I watch her go, still highly strung, and shrug to myself. I tried. She’ll learn in her own time.
I catch sight of the Eiffel Tower and the Colosseum, scanning the rest of the monuments for La Sagrada Familia that I’d spotted earlier, but there’s no sight of it anywhere.
‘There you are, I’ve been looking all over the place for you!’ says one of the assistants as he comes to a stop right before me. ‘Sorry I’m late – it took us forever to find it, jammed as it was between the leaning tower of Pisa and Big Ben. Oh, well. You have exactly ten minutes to get ready!’
‘Get ready for what?’ I ask.
‘For your exhibition,’ he says, shoving a garment bag at me. ‘The parents wear a costume as well. Sorry, we had a whole bunch, but you didn’t show for the selection, and now you’re stuck with the leftovers. Did you bring the green paint? No matter, we have some in the back. Go, go, go!’
I stand there, dumb-struck. Green paint? ‘There must be some mistake. Their mother can’t be here so I’m filling in, but—’
‘Hurry, Auntie Fi,’ Verity pleads, pulling my hand.
I look down at their anxious faces and want to murder my sister for leaving out this tiny detail. She knows I hate being on a stage in front of everybody. She knows and still— Oh, crap…
I let them drag me to a dressing table under a naked light bulb and open the bag, only to reveal a pale green suit. What the hell is this, an alien costume? This is not bloody Comic Con! And then I see the spiked crown. Oh God, I’m going to be the Statue of bloody Liberty. Well, thank you very much for this one, Hope!
Sighing inwardly, I slip the tunic over my head, pull my hair into a bun and proceed to vigorously apply the green paint, which, funnily enough, doesn’t manage to hide my now purple and yellow eye.
As I’m doing so, my phone rings. It’s Travis.
‘Hi, doll!’
‘Hi, what’s up?’
‘Have you got an answer for me regarding New York?’
‘Funny you should ask that right now,’ I quip. ‘I’m dressed as the bloody Statue of Liberty as we speak.’
He sniggers. ‘What?’
‘Indeed. It’s my niece and nephew’s geography night at school.’
‘Sounds like fun. I’m sure you look great in green.’
‘Not as good as I’d hoped,’ I answer as I apply the finishing touches of green to my chin. The things you do for love of your blood.
‘I’ve been meaning to ask you, Travis – what news on the beach house?’
Silence.
‘Travis?’
‘The uhm, house has already sold, Faith. I’m sorry…’
I drop my green face paint, my frozen image reflected in the mirror. ‘What? When?’
He hesitates. ‘A while ago.’
‘A while ago?’ Gabe has been lying to me about this as well, for all this time?
‘Faith? You okay there?’
‘I’m s-sorry, I can’t t-talk right now,’ I blubber and hang up, dashing for the ladies’ which, thankfully, is deserted.
I sit in one of the stalls, my arms wrapped around my knees, and silently sob into the folds of my costume. Why, why, why? Not only had he been cheating on me, but he’d sold our home from under my nose. How could I have not known any of this? Granted, the deeds were in his name, but… God, when am I going to remember that he didn’t care about me enough to include me in his life decisions? Why has he treated me like I had meant absolutely nothing to him?
And then a thought occurs to me. How had he sold it without any viewings? I’d worked from home the entire time, even receiving clients from there, so I was never out for too long. How had Gabe managed to sneak in viewers behind my back? Unless…
I dig out my mobile from the pocket of my jeans underneath my robe and dial Travis.
‘Hey…’
‘Sorry, Travis. I just need to ask you something.’
‘Shoot.’
‘Did you sell the beach house on Gabe’s behalf?’
‘No. I represented the new buyers. I had just taken it on after the new buyers bought it.’
And then it dawns on me. ‘Sorry – do you mean that you are working to sell the house for the new buyers? They’re reselling? Oh my God, maybe I still have a chance! I need to speak to them!’
‘Faith…’
‘Travis, please, you don’t understand how important this is to me! To you, it may just be another listing, but this was m-my home.’ And the last place my mother had been happy. Until she wasn’t anymore. All because of a man breaking her heart.
‘Faith, I understand, really I do. But you’d have to be rolling in it to afford to buy it.’
‘Which means I can get a mortgage.’
‘I know you’re doing well, but we’re talking millions here. You know that.’
I bite my lip. Of course I know. Unless I can get into the Wickfords’ graces and earn that kind of money, it’ll be quite impossible.
‘It’s time to let go, Faith. Come with me to New York. Get a fresh start.’
‘Just tell me who bought the house off Gabe, Travis.’
‘Come on. I can’t give you that information.’
‘Travis – I have a right to know who I’ve been killing myself here for. Please. Who am I working for?’
A loud groan, and then: ‘Henry.’