Authors: Jade West
“What’s the point?” I seethed. “We’d never have worked, Lydia, never. This is what happens when I get close to people.”
“That’s not true!” she said. “I lived my whole life trapped behind a wall, not daring to let anyone in. All I wanted was to be the strong one, the indestructible one, the one that was so in-control nobody could ever fuck my shit up again, but these last few months I learnt something. I learnt something from
you
. I learnt it’s ok to let go, it’s ok to be weak, it’s ok to cry… I’ve learnt it’s ok to fucking trust someone, James! That there’s something out there worth taking the risk for!”
My eyes flared with rage. “I
was
learning to trust someone, Lydia. I
was
learning to love again, but it was a stupid fucking dream.
This
is the reality, right here, right now.
This
is what
love
leads to.”
“So, what now?” she wheezed. “We’re over, just like that?”
My heart thumped so fucking hard, begged me to run to her, begged me to fight for her, but I turned away.
“Just like that,” I said. “I can’t love you, Lydia, I just can’t. Stuart’s outburst was for the best. It’s shone the light of clarity in a way I’ve been blind to for months. This whole thing is for the best.”
“You don’t mean that!”
“I wish I didn’t,” I sighed.
“Say you won’t leave, James, please!” There were tears in her eyes as she spoke, and my heart lurched. “Please don’t quit over this.”
“It will take me a while to find another job,” I said. “It won’t be imminent, but I will be leaving, Lydia, I’m sorry.”
She didn’t stay to argue, and I hated myself from the moment she left.
***
Frank finally surfaced mid-afternoon. He knocked with a hearty flourish, swinging his way through the door with a shake of his head. I braced myself for it, for the tirade of abuse, but it didn’t arrive.
“Bloody hell, James, what the fucking hell was that craziness about this morning, hey? That bloke was a tee short of a putt, I tell you. Lydia should count her lucky stars she got away from that one.”
“He seemed a bit on-one,” I said warily.
“On-one?! He was bloody cuckoo! Poor Lydia, did you see those marks on her legs? I wouldn’t be surprised if they were from him, you know. We’ll have to keep an eye on her from now on, James, make sure she doesn’t go running back there. I’d hate it if anything happened to her.” He scratched his neck. “I’m surprised you didn’t punch him one, all that shit he was spouting about you. By God, man, what an absolute loony-tune, you should’ve landed one right in the jaw.” He smiled, sitting himself down opposite. “I have to admit, I wondered it myself, if there’s anything going on between you and our Lydia. If there is then don’t be put off by some psycho-ex, it’ll blow over, you wait and see.”
“There’s nothing going on between me and Lydia,” I said numbly.
He sighed. “Oh well, I thought we might have the first Trial Run wedding. Never mind, eh?” He grinned, leaning towards me. “You’ll have to go grab a coffee at some point, the whole admin team are gaggling themselves crazy. They think you’re some kind of superhero now, James, rushing to the aid of the lovely Lydia. You got him in that arm lock real bloody quick-smart, it was quite a move.”
“They’re saying what?” I quizzed, mouth dry.
“They’re all gaggly over you, my lad, think you’re the hero of the bloody year. You’ll never hear the end of it, I tell you. It’ll go down in history as the day our James wrestled a psycho-intruder through reception,” he chuckled.
I could barely swallow. “Where’s Lydia?” I asked. “Is she ok?”
He sighed loud and long. “Ah, poor Lydia. I don’t think she coped so well. She’s gone home sick. Can’t say I blame her either, it was quite a shock to her system. God only knows how bad it could have been if you hadn’t been there, James, Lord knows what the crazy fool would have done to her. I put her in a taxi, don’t worry, she’ll have got home safe.” He raised himself from his seat. “You could give her a call, James, check she’s ok. She didn’t look so good, shock I guess.”
I was dialling her mobile before the door clicked shut behind him, but it was no good. My call went straight to voicemail.
***
James
I paced my living room and listened to her voicemail click in for the hundredth time. “Lydia, call me, please.”
She wouldn’t, of course, she hadn’t returned a single call all day. I fisted my hands in my hair, and finally plucked up the courage to call Rebecca. She picked up on the third ring.
“Is she ok?” I asked. “Please tell me she’s ok.”
“Fucking hell, James,” she hissed. “What the fuck? No, she’s not fucking ok! Just stay away, will you? She doesn’t need you right now.”
“Fine,” I said. “I know she’s hurt. I know that.”
“You don’t fucking know! You don’t know anything! That girl loves you, James, she opened her poor, bruised little soul right up on a plate, and you shit on her, James, you shit all over her, and now she thinks it’s all her fault!”
“It was Stuart,” I said. “He showed up here, shouting his mouth off. He must have found out from somewhere. I freaked, Bex, do you know how big a deal this shit is to me? Do you?”
“A bigger deal to you than Lydia is, clearly,” she snapped. “And that’s the fucking saddest thing of all. Just leave her alone now, James, please. You’ve fucking broken her.”
“I told her about Rachel, Rebecca, I told her everything that happened, and still this shit landed on my doorstep.”
She laughed, but it was full of bitterness. “You think that was Lydia’s fault? Do you? If you want to blame anyone you’ll have to blame Cara. It was her who let that stupid bitch Steph up with no warning.
That’s
how this happened, James, one stupid mistake. No trail of stupidity, or attention seeking, or game playing, just one stupid case of bad timing. Cara’s sorry, if you want to know. She hasn’t stopped crying. Blames herself for this whole sorry mess.”
“Take care of Lydia, Bex, please. Tell her I’m sorry.”
She was already gone.
***
I prayed every day that Lydia would be at my desk in the morning, a fresh cup of coffee in hand, but she never was. She called in sick before nine without fail, I saw the emails. Generic
she’s unwell
shit. It ate at me through every minute, but still I couldn’t break through my own fucking barriers.
What is love, anyway? What does it mean? Did I love Lydia Marsh? Was that even enough?
I drove myself insane, throwing every waking hour into the Salmons project and barely sleeping, pleading that one day soon the ache for Lydia would pass.
But it didn’t. It got fucking worse.
So many times I wanted to turn up at hers, armed with a taxi full of roses and promises of happy ever after, but I couldn’t promise that, couldn’t promise something I was uncertain I’d be able to deliver. I’d baulked at telling Frank about us, even though he suspected already, baulked at the very first fucking hurdle. How the fuck would I ever give her the relationship she deserved? I couldn’t even admit the truth of it to myself, let alone anyone else.
I wasn’t expecting a knock on the door at ten am on Friday morning, and I definitely wasn’t expecting it to be Emily Barron, the scatty blonde girl from Lydia’s team. She took a seat across from me without invite, beaming like a big smiley dullard. I raised my eyebrows in question, not really giving a shit what she wanted.
“I’m here about Salmons,” she said. “I need briefing, since I’m taking over the project management.”
“Sorry? You’re doing what?”
“I’m taking it over,” she repeated. “Now that Lydia’s gone.”
My blood turned to ice. “What the hell do you mean, Lydia’s gone?”
She looked at me like I was retarded, like I was the only person on the planet not in the loop. “She’s in the main meeting room with Frank,” she said. “Handing in her notice. Wants to get away from an ex or something, you know the one you kapowed in reception? Seems you giving him the shoe wasn’t enough, she’s off. Brighton apparently, got a job with White Hastings McCarthy.”
I felt the colour drain from me. “She’s doing what?”
“Poached by Trevor White I think, rumour has it there’s something going on there. I hope so, Lydia’s a nice girl.”
“Where is she now?” I hissed.
She rolled her eyes. “I told you already, she’s down with Frank, signing off her leaving arrangements. She’s not coming back, not even for a single day, how shit is that?”
“Excuse me, Emily.” I stormed from my desk, uncaring of the way she was flapping her mouth for my attention.
“But what about me?” she said. “What about Salmons?”
I pointed to the file on my desk. “Knock yourself out, Emily, I couldn’t give two fucking shits about Salmons.”
***
My heart jumped into my throat as I caught sight of Lydia through the meeting room door. She looked pasty, sick, worse than she had done those months ago in the kitchen. All over again I watched her dither, a tiny sparrow on a branch, clawing for grip. I hovered awhile, until finally her eyes met mine through the glass panel. She looked away instantly, straight down at the paperwork in front of her. Frank carried on oblivious, chortling on about some bullshit or other, I’m sure.
I opened the door without knocking, and Frank jolted in his seat. “James!” he said. “Come to say goodbye? It’s so bloody sad, isn’t it? We’re all so sorry to see you go, Lydia.”
“I need to speak with Lydia a minute, please Frank, outside.”
He looked from me to her, then turned his attention to his paperwork. “I’ve got some forms to fill in,” he said “Carry on.”
“Please, Lydia,” I said. “Just a minute.”
She shrugged, sliding from her seat like a ghost, trailing me to the doorway. I shut the door behind us, all so aware of the bustle all around. We were right in the heart of the admin gossip hive, right amongst the thrum of twitchy ears and twitchy mouths.
“Can we go upstairs?” I asked. “It’s much more private.”
She shook her head. “I don’t have long. I’ve got to sort my things.”
“You’re really going to Brighton? To Trevor?”
“It was that or Warwick,” she said. “And Mum’s doing fine without me, she’s happy with Mr Bingo.”
I cast my eyes about, checking for eavesdroppers. “I’m so fucking sorry, Lydia, I never meant to hurt you.”
Her eyes pooled instantly, but this time she made no move to choke it back, none at all. “It’s ok,” she said. “It was casual, we both knew that.”
“It wasn’t casual,” I whispered. “None of this was casual.”
“It’s funny,” she said, with a sad smile. “I spent my whole life trying to be strong, trying not to cry, but I was wrong. Breaking isn’t weak, James, it’s strong. Being able to wear your heart on your sleeve and let other people see your pain, that’s strong. I was hurt after Stuart, really hurt, but it never hurt like you did. Losing you was a million times worse than Stuart ever was, and that’s ok, because it set me free.” She smiled as she wiped tears from her eyes. “You know, I got so sad I even rang my mum. I rang her and I told her everything, because nothing could feel worse than I felt anyway, nothing she could say would be that bad.”
My eyes were heavy, they burnt under the weight of her gaze. “What did she say?”
“She said a lot,” Lydia smiled. “More than I expected, and it helped. You know what I figured? I spent so much of my life being strong for other people, that I had no idea how to let them be strong for me. I never gave Mum a chance to be there, I never ever let her in.” She put a hand on my arm. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for breaking me.”
My hands were clammy, shaking. I could hardly swallow for the pain in my throat. “Don’t do this, Lydia, please don’t go. You were right and I was wrong, we can get over this, it was nothing, a storm in a teacup. The world didn’t end here, Cat, not with Stuart storming in, it ended when you walked out. Please don’t leave.”
“And then what? We go back to being Lydia and James, professional co-workers?”
“No... yes...” I said. “I don’t know.”
She smiled a smile so tender it took my breath. “It’s not enough, James. I need someone who’ll put themselves on the line for me, like I put myself on the line for you. I want someone who can love me, who can be with me for who I am. I never wanted that before, but I do now. If I’m here with you I’ll never find that person, there will only ever be you.”
“And what if I
am
that person?” I breathed. “What if I
can
be that man?”
“But you can’t, you said it yourself. Your life is too compartmentalised, too rigid. There’s no place for chaos, James. There’s no place for
me.
I’ve got to go, Frank’s waiting.”
I fisted my hands in my hair. Palpitations ratting through my chest. I was sweaty, hot, exposed, thoroughly out of my comfort zone and hating every second of it. People were gathering at the sidelines, keeping a nosey eye on our exchange. I found I no longer gave a shit about any of it, about my stupid job, or this stupid place, or Salmons, or stupid fucking Trevor White. I no longer cared what any of them thought of me, because none of them mattered.
Only one.
Lydia mattered.
I pulled her towards me, and she wheezed at the contact. “Let me go, James,” she breathed. “Please don’t make this any harder than it already is.”
“I can be that man,” I said. “Let me be that man.”
Her lip trembled, eyes welling up again. “Don’t,” she said. “Please, James, don’t break me like this.”
“I’m not breaking you,” I whispered. “I’m breaking me.” I searched her eyes with mine, begging for absolution. “Do you love me, Lydia?”
The tears I craved spilled freely from her. “More than you could know,” she said. “More than
I
could’ve known.”
“Then be with me, Cat, please, I can be that man.”
“Stop it,” she hissed. “Please, I can’t take it!”
“I mean it,” I said. “I want to be that man. I
am
that man.”
“And you’ll stand at my side in front of the whole world, will you? Declaring it to everyone who’ll listen?”
I wrung my hands together, knuckles white, trying to jam my thoughts into some kind of order as she stared up at me.
“Thought not,” she said. “Goodbye, James.”
“Fucking hell, Lydia Marsh,” I seethed. “I can’t believe you’re fucking doing this to me. I’m going to slap your ass so fucking hard for this little stunt.” I yanked her elbow, pulling her into my arms as the whole of the fucking admin team looked on. For all their gasps and open mouths, not one of them looked so shocked as Lydia herself. She bit her lip, just like she always does, and this time I really did suck it into my mouth. I kissed her like my life depended on it, and after a moment’s hesitation she kissed me right back.
I broke away to find Lydia’s eyes like saucers, staring up at me as if she’d seen a ghost. Frank stood up from his chair, gawping through the window at us, and I found that I was smiling. I was smiling my fucking head off.
I paced through to the meeting room.
“Is this Lydia’s letter of resignation?” I asked, stealing the paperwork from under Frank’s nose.
“Um, yeah, James, it sure is.”
“Not anymore.” I tore the thing into tiny pieces, dumping it straight in the wastepaper basket.
On my way back to my office. I made sure my voice was loud and clear, carrying the full length of the room.
“
Yes
, I’m in love with Lydia Marsh,
yes
, it’s the real fucking deal,
yes
, we have a wonderful fucking sex life, thank you very much, and
no
, she isn’t going to Brighton. Any more questions?”
Nobody made a sound, including Frank who’d appeared in the meeting room doorway.
“Good,” I said. “Carry on.” I turned back as I reached the stairs, my eyes firmly on Lydia. “Coffee please,” I yelled. “If you’re making one. We’ve got a whole fucking week’s worth of work to catch up on, best get a move on.”
She didn’t disappoint me.
***