When the European tour finished, Michael and I drove through the English countryside in a rented limousine. I remember green fields, yellow autumn corn, red leaves on trees.
‘This house will be spectacular when it’s all done,’ said Michael. ‘A real king’s castle. I’m having them build turrets and all sorts. You’ll have your own tower, like a princess.’
Michael drank vigorously from the limousine bar during that drive – straight whiskey. I joined in the rock and roll party by having a rum and Coke. It wasn’t even lunchtime, but we were rock stars. It was fun. Exciting. That’s who we were and what we did.
Michael and I were getting along a little better since the tour ended. He seemed to want a lot of sex all of a sudden, and I was desperate to be with him.
I wore leopard-print leggings, a red vest held together by safety pins and spiked-up hair. Sexy punk rock chick, just like Michael wanted. And I was skinny, like he wanted too. Skinnier than I’d ever been thanks to his comments about my weight.
Michael dressed all in black.
I remember joking about bed linen and hanging pictures, because of course I wasn’t that kind of girl – the home-making kind. That’s what a wife would do. What Diane had done. But I was too cool for all of that.
I also remember asking if I could call my sister when we reached the house.
‘What do you want to call her for?’ Michael asked. ‘You have me now.’
‘Just to tell her I’m okay. Dee worries about me. Especially since the cancer—’
‘Well, she shouldn’t. I’m taking care of you now. She should stop interfering in your life, Lorna. It’s not normal.’
‘She doesn’t interfere. I’ve only called her once since I came away with you, and Dee can’t call me. She’s my sister, Michael.’
‘Are you a grown-up or a little girl? We’re in a real adult relationship here. Or are you still a child, needing a mammy to look after you. Which is it?’
‘I’m a grown-up.’
‘So what do you need to call your sister for? You know she’s crazy jealous, don’t you? I don’t want you having anything to do with her. She’s toxic.’
‘She’s my sister, Michael. She’s been there for me my whole life. She worries—’
‘Can you stop going on about this, Lorna? The phone line isn’t set up for international calls anyway. You’ll have to write her a letter.’
Eventually, the limo drove down a long, tree-lined lane, then stopped outside a dark wood of Christmas trees and cobwebby branches. There were huge, wrought-iron gates with dragons chasing around in the metalwork. I thought the whole place looked haunted.
‘Here we are,’ said Michael. ‘Our country love nest.’
‘Where’s the house?’ I asked.
‘It’s there through the trees,’ said Michael. ‘There’s a lot of building work going on right now. See the scaffolding?’
I saw glittering metal scaffold rods and piles of bricks, but no house. But when the gates opened and the limo wound through the trees, I finally saw the shell of an English country mansion, some walls half built and the beginnings of weird concrete turrets at the sides.
The house was perfectly Michael: a blended bunch of egos. Country gent, Tudor lord, medieval king and modern millionaire celebrity.
I managed: ‘It’ll be big when it’s finished.’
‘Oh, yeah.’ Michael nodded approvingly. ‘The biggest house in the south-east, as a matter of fact. Acres of land around it. I’ve bought up all of Huntingdon Wood. The whole lot. Your bedroom is in that turret there.’ Michael pointed.
‘My bedroom? Won’t we share a bedroom?’
‘Don’t you want your own space? We’ve been cooped up on a tour bus for months on end.’
‘No, I want to be with you. Like a normal couple.’
‘Normal is boring. Forget about normal.’
‘Michael—’
‘Come on, Lorna. Not today.’
I downed the last of my rum and Coke.
‘Whose is that quad bike?’ I asked, seeing a red all-terrain vehicle sitting near the moat wall. ‘Yours?’
‘Oh. Yeah. That’s a new toy. To go racing around the woods on. They’re vast, these grounds.’
‘Can I ride it one day?’
‘Not on your own. I’ll take you.’
Of course not on my own. Giving me even the tiniest bit of power was too dangerous. Keys to a vehicle? No way.
As we pulled up by the moat bridge, Michael sat up tall in his seat. His arm came across to hold me in place, even though I was strapped in.
‘Stay here, Lorna. Okay?’
I followed his gaze. There was a beautiful woman outside the house, wearing classic country attire – a box-quilt bodywarmer, green wellington boots and a blouse tucked into plain blue jeans. She was older than me. Probably in her thirties. Her arms were crossed.
‘Who’s that?’ I asked.
Michael’s arm was like an iron bar. ‘Wait here, okay? Don’t move, okay?’
‘What? Why—’
‘Just stay in the car, Lorna.’
Michael climbed out of the limo, closing the door quickly behind him. I watched him give the woman a long, swaying hug. She was short and skinny, like me, and fitted Michael’s body perfectly, her head leaning on his shoulder. After a few minutes, Michael came back to the car.
‘Lorna,’ he whispered. ‘Diane’s here. She’s taking our separation very hard. To tell you the truth, I think she’s losing her mind. You just wait here in the car until I sort everything out.’
Michael slammed the door before I could protest. The driver got out too and he, Michael and Diane went into the house.
Hours passed. With a mother like mine, I was used to being tossed aside, forgotten and uncared. But then lunchtime came and went and my humiliation and discomfort grew. If Michael loved me, how could he treat me like this? Leave me out here all day, forgotten?
Finally, Michael came trotting out of the house and opened the limo door.
‘Come with me, Lorna.’ He clicked his fingers at me, looking back at the house. ‘Come on.’
‘What’s going on, Michael? Why is Diane still here? Can’t you tell her to leave?’
‘I can’t bloody tell her to leave.’ Michael glanced back at the house again. ‘I told you. She’s losing it. Hurry up now, we need to get you into the house without her seeing. Unless you want to stay in the car all night.’
‘I’m not sneaking around—’
‘Yes, you bloody well are.’ Michael pushed a hurried hand through his hair. ‘Diane’s flipped out. She’d scratch you to bits if she saw you. Let’s just get you inside, up to your room.’
‘I’m not doing that, sneaking inside, hiding from your wife. Just tell her to leave.’
‘I never thought of you as a cruel person,’ said Michael, dropping his hand to my shoulder. ‘Come on. Diane is having a hard time. We don’t want to make it worse, right? Just help me out on this one. In a year’s time it’ll all be fine. But right now, she’s struggling. Listen, I’ll take you in the house and we’ll go right upstairs. Diane’s in the kitchen. She won’t see you. Sound okay?’
‘No. It sounds sneaky and awful.’
‘Lorna.’ Michael’s voice dropped to danger level. ‘Not today, okay? Don’t mess me around today. It’s been bad enough Diane turning up out of the blue. Would you just behave yourself? She’s my wife, Lorna.’ Michael gave me hard eyes. ‘My wife.’
I got the message. I was the interloper here, not her.
‘Do you still love her?’
Michael whipped round furiously. ‘DROP IT. You’re supposed to be a cool girl. Well, prove it.’ He grabbed my wrist and pulled me towards the house. ‘Don’t make a sound. Not a sound.’
As Michael pulled me along, I looked over at that big, lonely house – the place that was supposed to be my new home. Diane was lady of this castle. I was the courtesan, sneaking in the back door.
Inside the house, there were dust sheets and building materials everywhere. It looked like someone was trying to construct three different houses: a glossy Italian marble Versace palace, a modern bachelor’s pad in graphite and a British stately home with antiques and oil paintings.
‘How long will Diane be here for?’ I whispered when we reached the first-floor landing.
‘Would you just be quiet?’
‘I was just asking—’
‘Lorna, shut up. I’m stressed enough as it is. If you keep this up, you and I are finished. I mean it. Show some respect.’
I followed Michael to a smashed-out archway propped up with scaffold. It led to a wooden spiral staircase held up by more metal poles.
‘This is your bedroom.’ Michael pushed me into a round room with bare plaster on the ceiling and a mattress on the floor. ‘I had them do it out in your style so you’d feel right at home. Not that you deserve it right now, the way you’re acting.’
The room was small and smelt of paint. Two walls were patchy with careless black paint strokes. A paint can and petrified brush sat in the corner, like someone was coming back to finish the job.
‘What’s my style? Train wreck?’
‘Hey.’ Michael took both my hands and gave me his signature whirlpool eye stare. ‘There are new things for you in the wardrobe.’ He opened a wonky cupboard, also painted a patchy black. Inside were packages of underwear – fishnet tights, suspender belts, red lace bras, all stacked up.
‘So, what? I wait here and dress in underwear while you entertain your wife downstairs?’
‘You’re not a girl who likes to upset people, right? Diane’s been through enough. She dreamed of a simple married life and it’s all come tumbling down. Have a heart. Stay here. Just stay put, okay. You’re my number-one girl.’
‘Michael—’
Michael put a heavy hand on my shoulder. ‘Listen. When you’re staying at my house, you follow my rules. I’m lord of the manor here. There can only be one lord, okay? And you’re the princess. I lead, you follow. Everything is better that way. Count your blessings.’
‘And if I don’t?’
Michael did that angry, shoulder-hunching thing. ‘Then get out of here, Lorna. Go back to your crap little life. And don’t expect anything from me, ever again.’
Michael left then, slamming the door.
I went to the window, tears forming. I would leave. I’d walk right out the door and through the woods and …
It took about three seconds to understand the practical reality: I was in the middle of nowhere with no car, no friends and no money. But more than that – I didn’t know how to be without Michael. Whenever he left me alone, I felt empty. Lost. Sad. My life now was spent waiting for him.
Back then, I was certain I would never be happy without Michael in my life. He was the only thing that made the sadness go away. I didn’t realize that, like any drug, Michael caused both the sadness and the happiness.
I sank to the black-painted floorboards and cried into my knees.
Somehow, I would have to make this relationship work. We had to get things back on track. Find the love again. Make things like how they were in those first few weeks.
Michael was my happily ever after.