I’ll bet you feel so lonely, you could die.
I hummed the David Bowie song to myself as I carried a food tray to my bedroom.
I’ll bet you feel so lonely, you could die.
Michael was entertaining journalists in the lounge, so I’d been told to stay out of sight.
‘It’s not the right time to show you off. I still haven’t finalized the divorce. We’ve got to keep you a secret just a little bit longer …’
I’d been in the gym room all morning and was about to undo all my good work by eating potato chips and chocolate fudge cake, washed down with Coca Cola. Michael hated me eating junk food, but he still kept cupboards of it in the kitchen for himself. Comfort food. In the absence of love, food would have to do.
Michael hadn’t visited my bedroom since Annalise came to stay.
Yes, Annalise was still here. Days had turned into weeks and now months. I could hear her at night, sometimes singing in a nightingale voice, sometimes moaning. She was moaning because she was sick, Michael said.
As I reached the landing, I noticed something – Annalise’s bedroom door was open. It was never open.
I set my tray down, stuffing a handful of potato chips into my mouth. Instinctively, I glanced at the stairs in case Michael was watching.
‘Annalise?’ I knocked softly on the open door.
Annalise was on the bed, her back to me, looking out of the window. She was staring at the large concrete hole that was destined to become a swimming pool, and the acres of fir tree woodlands beyond. Her room was a mess – piles of chiffon dresses on the floor, books, underwear …
Annalise was a mess too. Her long, brown-blonde hair was unwashed and unbrushed. She’d put on weight – which pleased me. Her middle was round and large, something I knew Michael would loathe.
‘Are you okay?’ I asked. ‘I heard you making noises again last night. Michael says you’re sick.’
Annalise didn’t answer. Just sort of gawped at me, staring with her big, dumb fish eyes.
‘Okay,’ I said. ‘I get it. I’m not Lord Michael. Only Lord Michael is good enough to waste your words on. But listen, you can’t stay here forever. Don’t you think it’s time to pack your bags and go home to your mother? Michael’s getting tired of you being here. He … he told me.’
A lie.
As I turned to go, Annalise said, ‘I’m not going home. I’m going to stay here with Michael. We love each other. We’re having a baby. And when the baby comes, Michael says we’ll all be one big happy family.’
I put my hands on my hips. ‘What are you talking about? What baby?’
‘Michael and I are having a baby.’
I laughed. ‘Don’t be stupid. You’re living in fantasy land. I’m his girlfriend, get it? His real, actual girlfriend. You’re just some silly girl with a crush who’s come to stay.’
‘I’m the mother of his child.’
I laughed again. It was so ridiculous. But then Annalise put hands to her stomach. It was round and solid-looking under a flowery summer dress.
I stared at her. My hand went to my own stomach, and to the scar running across my abdomen.
‘Who’s the father?’ I asked, swallowing thickly.
‘I told you. Michael.’
‘Come on, Annalise. Who’s the real father? Is that why you left your mother’s house? Because you were pregnant and didn’t want her to find out?’
‘Michael is the father,’ said Annalise again. ‘We’re in love. He’s going to divorce Diane and marry me.’
I laughed. ‘You’re just a dumb kid making up stories. You probably got pregnant by some roadie on tour and now you want Michael to be your happily ever after. Been there, got the T-shirt. But I got there first. So it’s not going to happen for you. Michael loves me.’
I stormed right downstairs to the lounge, where I found Michael entertaining two journalists – both women. They were laughing, while Michael topped up champagne glasses and offered cucumber sandwiches.
I hesitated, feeling sickly terror. Interrupting Michael when he had guests … there would be consequences. I felt them in every sinew of my lean body. But I couldn’t stop myself.
‘Michael.’ My voice was shaking.
Michael’s eyes lit with anger when he saw me in the door way. ‘Excuse me, ladies. My assistant has come to bother me when I’m meeting important people.’ His words and lips were tight. ‘Lorna here is my Girl Friday. She’s here to do the very dusty and thankless job of stocktaking merch out there in the cottage. I should lock the door to keep her out there. She’s always sneaking into the house for tea breaks.’
The two female journalists laughed.
‘I need to talk to you,’ I said.
Michael’s black eyes burned. ‘Not now, okay?’
‘No. Now.’ I smiled at the journalists. ‘Sorry. Urgent stock taking business.’
‘Back in a minute,’ Michael told the women. ‘Top up your champagne glasses, ladies. I don’t want to see them run dry.’
We went to the kitchen and Michael said, ‘This better be an emergency or you’re out of here. I mean it.’
‘Annalise says she’s pregnant and you’re the father.’
‘What?’ Michael blinked at me. ‘She said what?’
‘She says you’re the father of her child. It’s not true, is it?’
‘Of course it’s not true.’ Michael glanced back at the kitchen door.
‘She looks pregnant.’
‘What are you girls doing talking to each other anyway?’
‘Is she pregnant, Michael?’
Michael hesitated. ‘Listen, she might be.’ He put a hand on my shoulder. ‘But I’m not the father. That’s total nonsense. No way. This is worse than the tabloids. She’s just trying to upset you, love. Make you jealous. She’s young. You’re the grown-up here, okay? I’ll talk to her.’ He gave me a quick disconnected kiss. ‘All right? Go back to your room.’
‘She has to leave, Michael,’ I said. ‘I mean it.’
Fury settled into Michael’s forehead and cheeks. ‘Of course she bloody well has to leave. That girl is in a whole world of trouble, Lorna. She’s going to be begging for her mad mammy by the time I’m finished with her.’
I felt uneasy then, noticing Michael’s balled fists and hunched shoulders. Michael had lost his temper with me many times, but I didn’t like the idea of him hurting someone else, especially someone so young. I imagined Annalise falling to the floor, protecting her pregnant stomach.
She’s a liar, a voice said. She’s not even pregnant. She’s a liar and she tried to hurt you. She deserves everything she gets.
I looked away from Michael. ‘Just a telling-off, right? You won’t hurt her.’
‘I’ll handle it how it needs to be handled. She’ll be out of this house today. And stop eating those crisps. You’ll end up with a fat arse.’
He patted my bottom and sent me upstairs, where I ate more junk food to ease my guilt.
Later that day, Annalise’s bedroom was empty. There was no mess of hippy and babydoll dresses over the bedroom floor. A decorator guy was stripping rose wallpaper from the walls and the linen had been torn from the bed, revealing a bare, unloving mattress.
‘She’s gone back to her mother,’ Michael told me when I found him downstairs eating breakfast. ‘I gave her a talking-to and we both decided she needed to leave the house.’ He threw his knife and fork noisily at his half-eaten fried breakfast plate and stood up.
‘Where are you going?’ I asked.
‘To the cottage. The renovations are really coming along out there, but I have to oversee every detail. Honestly, you turn your back for a moment on those guys and they do everything back to front.’
Michael stayed in the cottage all day. When he came back that night, he didn’t come to my bedroom. He didn’t come the next night either.
I knew I was in a lukewarm bath that was getting colder by the day. But it was freezing outside and I didn’t have the courage to get out.