The Art of Keeping Faith (20 page)

“So, you’re not upset about those pictures in the paper yesterday?”

“You saw them?”

“Yep.”

“And you did not text me?”

“Lilah, you and Ben are your own thing.”

“Thanks.” I sound like a five-year-old.

“So is that why you are running like a demented person?”

“It was either that or drink vodka like a demented person.”

“I don’t think that’s true. Everyone has choices, Lilah.”

“Are you going to get all philosophical, Rich? Because it is only seven and to be honest I did have a few vodkas last night.”

He nudges me in the rib, which hurts rather a lot. “Nah. Fancy a coffee? I don’t think I can run like that all the way back.”

“You are supposed to be the sportsman! And anyway I don’t have any cash on me.”

“I have.”

I eye him up and down. “Where?”

He gives me a cheeky wink and breaks into his enormous grin.

“That’s gross, please tell me it is not down your pants.”

“Delilah! What a dirty mind you have. Why would you think it is in my pants?”

He slings an arm over my shoulder and turns us in the direction of Costa.

“Where is it, then?”

“In my trainer, you dirty beast.”

I flush, which ratchets up the purple to a puce pink shade. Yay.

He just laughs some more and opens the door to the coffee shop for me with a dramatic sweep of his arm.

“You’re nuts,” I tell him with full authority, as I walk past him into the steaming coffee haven.

“Learning from the best, Lilah. Learning from the best.”

12th December

Can’t walk.

Power running = bad.

I must remember to gently amble at a granny pace from now on.

7.30 p.m.

“Lilah, have you got a moment?”

It’s Meredith, who looks very sheepish. Actually scratch that, she looks petrified.

“What’s up?”

“Um, nothing, what makes you say that?”

I don’t bother to reply, I just stare at her.

“Trist is just getting us some wine.”

“Well it must be very bad if you are sweetening whatever it is you have to say with alcohol. Have there been more pictures in the newspaper?”

“No!” she assures me.

Meredith was not pleased with the pictures, she helped me deface them, which we both did with immense pleasure. Tristan was not overly happy with them either.

Tristan walks in with the glasses of wine and they both sit on my bed.

They are freaking me out.

“Are you eloping?”

“No!”

“Are you pregnant?”

“No!”

“Well what the hell is it then?”

“We are going away for Christmas,” Meredith gushes the words.

“What the fu—”

“Lilah, I am sorry but I really want to take Meredith away and this is the longest break until Easter.” Tristan straightens his shoulders. “I just feel we could do with some time by ourselves.”

Wanker.

“What away from me?”

“No, no, no,” Meredith assures me. She grabs my leg and pats it like I am a pet in need reassurance.

“What the hell am I going to do?”

“Go to Mum and Dad’s?” Tristan offers, although his heart is not really in it. His face is screwed up ready for the wrath of Lilah.

“Kiss my arse, Tristan. You go to Mum and Dad’s and I will go on your holiday. Lord knows I could do with it.”

“I am so sorry, Lilah,” Meredith says, her green eyes filling with tears.

Guilt trip.

“Oh for goodness’ sake, don’t worry about it. I will be fine. I’ll just get myself some food, a box of wine and sing songs with my cat. It will be great.”

Depressing.

“I’ll buy the wine,” Tristan gallantly offers.

“Too right you will, and the bloody turkey.”

9.00 p.m.

I am so desperate to talk to Ben I could almost give in. I could just call him and hear his voice on the phone and all would be okay. But then I think of those pictures of him frolicking in the sea with Mihraandah and I know I can’t ring. If he has moved on, and has his new superstar life where he gets papped all the time, then I don’t think he will have time to talk to me, and why would he? I am crazy and neurotic and he is probably better off without me.

I know this, and I am guessing he now knows it as well.

I am going to take my ring off. I know it sounds really dramatic but I can’t keep walking around with it flashing blue at me constantly. It is enough to make me feel sick to my stomach. It blinks at me all day, a permanent reminder of Ben, and the fact that the ring should never have been given to me anyway. He acted in haste. I am sure he is aware of that.

I will keep on the necklace he gave me for my birthday last year. I don’t have to see that unless I am looking in the mirror.

The ring, well I think the ring can take up residence in my knicker drawer.

13th December

Cheese and Biscuits

I cannot believe I am doing this.

Cheese and bloody biscuits with the lecturers, I must have been very bad in a previous life.

I walk into Southlands Bar by myself, which in my opinion is mighty brave. None of my friends wanted to come with me. Funny that.

“Aaah, Delilah,” calls Pilchard.

Spotted.

“Hello, Professor Pilch … Pilch …”

“How about you just call me Mike?”

“Um, okay, Mike.”

“Well now you are here I can introduce you to everyone else.”

He takes me by the elbow and leads me to the gathering of bores near the bar.

“Would you like a wine? I hear that you are rather fond of wine,” Pilchard asks as we near the crowd.

“Pardon, who told you that?” I indignantly ask.

“I did,” says a voice behind me. I turn and find Johnson with a full wattage smile on his face. He is bouncing on his toes, I am sure this man twitches even in his sleep.

“Hello, Professor Johnson.”

“Hello, Delilah, how are you?”

“Oh you know, the same as usual.”

Deranged.

“Essays done yet?”

“Not exactly. I have planned one of them.”

This is a significant extension of the truth; I have written the title of one in the middle of a sheet of A4 paper and drawn a nice bubbly circle around it.

“Lilah was telling me her great idea just the other morning,” says a voice I recognise behind me.

I turn to find Richard grinning as he moves into our little triangle making it into an awkward square.

I don’t think I have ever spoken to him about anything to do with study before. Ever.

“Yes, Lilah was musing over whether the crusades in the Middle Ages equate to Islamic extremist behaviour in recent times,” Richard continues, still grinning.

Nope I don’t remember that at all.

“Well, Delilah.” Pilchard claps his hands together with glee. “That would be a most interesting essay, I do hope you explore the idea and use it as your subject.”

I grimace at Richard.

How the hell am I supposed to write an essay about that? I have no idea what he is talking about.

“Oh, well, let’s see,” I say knocking back my entire glass of wine. “I have some other ideas, too.”

Johnson is grinning at me as he drinks his red wine.

Pilchard wanders off and Richard turns to talk to someone else.

“So how have you been? Truth now, it is just us!” Johnson winks at me like we have a secret club for two.

“You know, I’ve been better. But then I have probably been worse as well.”

“Missing Ben?”

“A little,” I allow as I down another glass of wine I have grabbed from a passing tray.

“I hope you have not forgotten our conversation about faith.”

“Nope,” I tell him although I had.

“Good. Now let’s get sloshed. It’s free.”

He downs his wine, which makes me choke on my own.

“I do love cheese and wine, let’s hit the buffet.” He grabs my arm and steers me over to the table.

“Now the trick,” he tells me, “is to take a mouthful of the smelliest cheese you can find, and then wash it down with half a glass of wine.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Oh it is. Although it is a guaranteed headache.”

“Most things are I find.”

“That’s my girl. Come on don’t be shy.”

I grab a glass of red and a plate and prepare for my cheese and wine lecture. Now if only all Uni lectures were this interesting I would be the best student about.

14th December

Good grief. I do believe one of my lecturers got me drunk.

Judging by the locomotive currently circuiting my skull I would say that one of my lecturers got me very drunk.

Shit. I have work.

9.30 a.m.

“Where’s your ring?” Baz demands.

I have literally just walked through the door.

“Jeez, Hawkeye. It is in my drawer at home.”

“Why?”

“Because.” I shrug. What am I supposed to say?

“Do we need Bud?” Baz looks a little too hopeful at this prospect.

“No! This body is a temple.”

“Why are you wearing your sunglasses when it is sleeting in winter?”

Oh, the sleet. It’s been nonstop for days I wish it would just bugger off or snow properly and not this half-hearted shit falling from the sky making everyone miserable.

“Smart arse, I have a migraine.”

Caused by wine.

“Well I hope you have bought your ‘A Game,’ today is going to be busy.”

For a minute I just stop. We are only ever busy when Ben plays. For a split second I think—Ben is going to be here. Then I remember that I am crazy, and he is in fact somewhere else living a different life. One that does not involve sleet or cheese sweats and one that definitely does not involve me.

“It’s Christmas, Lilah, remember? Bumper sales and all that? I assume you have done some Christmas shopping?”

Crap.

“Yay to Christmas.” I give him a sarcastic thumbs-up.

“Okay, Ebenezer, just smile at people and leave me to do the talking.”

“Suits me. Oh, Baz, I may need to pop out at lunch I have some shopping to do.”

“Thought you might.” He gives me a know it all wink which I maturely grimace at.

Right then. Just what can I buy everyone?

6.00 p.m.

The doors are locked.

Thank God for that. What a day. I may be Christmassed out. I gift wrapped ten guitars, I think customers are supposed to pay for the privilege, but when Baz saw my efforts he gave the service away for free.

Baz is cashing up and I am straightening up the shop, which looks like a war zone.

“Fancy a rock out?” I ask.

Baz looks up from the register. “Sure, what you in the mood for?”

“I don’t know surprise me.”

After we’ve finished up our jobs we settle down with some Buds. I know I should get home, and I am sure he is desperate to get away from his alcoholic Saturday girl and home to his family, but I can’t face the trudge home in the sleet to nothing.

Halfway through our game of Guitar Karaoke I am struck with inspiration.

Ben and I may not be talking to each other but I can still communicate with him in one way. Baz has just played “Wonderwall,” and it has created a massive lump in my throat.

“It’s a bit crazy but can I record that? I want to send it to someone.”

Baz looks at me with a look of pride that I am not sure I deserve.

“Sure thing, Lovey.”

So I do. It rocks.

9.00 p.m.

Voicemail sent. I will never come up with words to say to Ben that could be more apt then those. Even if he is over us, I hope that it means something to him.

18th December

I have not heard back from Ben. I don’t know what I was expecting, but nothing was not really it.

I have taken up vodka again.

And singing.

Lots and lots of singing.

Kit is not coming in my room at all. Tristan has told me it is because I am making his poor kitty ears bleed with my wailing.

“I’m not wailing, it’s Taylor. She is the only one who understands my pain.”

Tristan thought this was hysterical and walked off chuckling something along the lines of, “Even Taylor wouldn’t understand this fuck up.”

Wanker.

21st December

More work.

More guitar wrapping.

More Budweiser.

I even lugged all my books into the shop today just in case I wanted to do some study for my essays. I didn’t.

Now I am just going to have to carry them all the way back home again. It’s snowing really hard so I am physically going to have to carry them all the way home and not just to the car.

Still nothing from Ben.

It’s just downright rude to ignore someone for that long.

Oh actually hold on, isn’t that what I did to him?

Fuck it.

24th December

This sucks. It wins the sucking prize in the suckiness competition and then some.