The Art of Keeping Faith (29 page)

He laughs a little but it is a nervous sound I have never heard from him before.

“Lilah, I would never ever do anything to betray you. I hope you know this, if nothing else.”

I look into the blues.

“Yeah, I do.”

“I love you, Lilah.”

“I love you, Ben.”

“So tell me about how you got so drunk on Saturday?”

So I do.

He laughs when I tell him my song choice.

“Well, I hope enough is never really enough for you.”

Then he said he wished Barbie had been around to record it for him. Hm. She was strangely absent on Saturday, no doubt plotting her next move in her ‘Let’s Make Lilah Look like a Dick’ plan.

After I hang up, I go and find Kit. He’s sitting on Tristan’s lap. So I hike him, growling at me, back to my room.

“Your dad’s coming home.” I tell him as I flick Cheerios in his direction to try and stop him tearing the door down to get back to Tristan.

Kit turns to watch me with his pale blue eyes and I aim another cheerio.

“Reckon we can hang on that long?” I ask him.

I don’t expect a sensible or helpful response.

February

1st February

6.00 a.m.

Shit. My phone.

“What?”

“It’s not raining shall we go running?”

“You’re completely mad. It’s Saturday.”

“So?”

“So, I have to build myself up to be the alcoholic Saturday girl of the year.”

“All the more reason to jog first. Meet you in twenty mins.”

“Bu—” I start but don’t bother finishing. Richard is gone, no doubt bouncing around trying to get his Lycra on.

I have spent a lot of time with Richard the last few days. Meredith has been working on a project and has actually been putting in some half-decent study time; either that or she is perving at someone on the laptop in her bedroom.

Beth and Jayne are officially not talking to each other, and neither of them will talk to us to tell us why. Believe me I have tried, I even offered Beth wine and chips, normally a failsafe offer that she can’t refuse. But she did. Instead, she sat at home sulking in her room.

As I get out of bed and struggle into my yoga pants and trainers I can’t help but worry about the situation we are all finding ourselves in.

Two friends not talking. Meredith doing a secret squirrel in the bedroom, or, even scarier doing some study. Ben and me living some bizarre semi-relationship where I am fast starting to not care what he gets up to. And more worrying than all of this is that I am actually starting to become a half-decent student myself.

I am determined to never again put myself through the January essay nightmare. Therefore I am studying every night and even participating in class. Professor Johnson, who is back as one of my lecturers for Crime in Medieval Europe (sick fuckers, that’s all I am going to say!), is loving the new, studious Lilah. He praises me left, right and centre and frequently calls on me in class, which I respond to by not going red at all.

Shame the same can’t be said for History on Screen; Pilchard still hates me and makes a point of picking on me at every opportunity. Probably not helped by the fact I hate all the films we have to watch.

They are a complete pile of pony.

2nd February

It’s worse than I thought.

I spent the whole day yesterday badgering Beth into coming out for a drink with me.

She gave in after I played my final card. Tapas.

It’s fair to say we threw our names away in the Tapas restaurant again. They must truly hate us in there. Last night we refused to sit at a table and insisted on having our food at the bar where we proceeded to wash down the food with a tasty combination of sangria and Sambuca.

I fell off my stool again. Twice in the same restaurant is just embarrassing on any level but I did have a good excuse.

Beth had just told me whilst bright red in the face, that her and Jayne had slept together after our New Year’s Eve nightmare party, and that is why the atmosphere has been so frosty for the last month and why they were now officially not talking at all.

“What? Why didn’t you tell me before?!” I exclaimed. It was the arm movement accompanying my loud exclamation that knocked me off balance, not the drink.

By the time Beth had heaved me up off the floor we were both in fits of giggles. But then she started to sob a little bit, which was uncomfortable with all the restaurant staff glaring at us for making a scene. Again.

“It feels good to tell someone,” Beth said.

“I am sure it does. Come on let’s go someplace else and you can tell me all about it.” I grabbed her arm and pulled her out the door.

So we did. The pub that smelled of old farts had some music on so we went in there and shook some booty while she told me all about the hideous situation her and Jayne have found themselves in.

It makes Ben and I look like we are living in paradise.

Why best friends should never have sex. Ever.

After Beth and Jayne had finished screaming at each other in the garden, they had come back inside to wish us all an unhappy new year before dawdling off down the road together to find a taxi to take them to the Alton Estate in Roehampton. Otherwise known as the armpit of the world.

Beth was vague on juicy details which I found rather disappointing considering the amount of secrets I have spilled to her in the past. But halfway down our road they stopped to have a post row snog, which Beth was not expecting at all. They then walked along in silence for another few minutes before jumping each other again.

One hour later they finally made it home without the aid of a taxi. And then they went to bed. Together.

All okay so far, well I guess. However, the next morning Beth woke up, Jayne was back in her room and she has not spoken about it since.

They have spoken about everything else, like baked beans for dinner, the incessant rain and whether or not Benjamin Chambers is indeed a player or not (hm!) but they have not talked about the night when they changed their friendship to something as yet undefined by either of them.

This makes me a little sad because I love them both equally and individually but I love us all the more when it is the four of us in our little post dorm gang.

My conclusion is that one should never have sex with a friend and it is something that I will store in my head just in case I ever need to recall that small piece of information, but I am hoping that I won’t need to.

3rd February

History on Screen.

“So, Delilah, out of the two movies you have watched on the same subject matter, which do you think is the most realistic in its approach? And what tools have they used to highlight the historical lesson they are trying to teach?” Pilchard peers at me intently, awaiting my intellectual response.

“Um, which films are they?”

If I play dumb he may pick on someone else.

“Come on, Delilah, stay with the programme.” Pilchard gives a little chuckle at his own play on words—what a dick. “Gladiator and Ben Hur?”

Oh, no.

Gladiator. Gladiator. Gladiator.

All I can see is soft focus tall swaying grass with a hand running through it.

“Um. Um.”

“Come on, Delilah, did you watch the films?”

“Yes!”

“And?”

“And, and, I think Gladiator was a highly romanticised manipulation of actual events made to over sentimentalise something that happened a long time ago, which the majority of the viewing public will have little chance of understanding.”

Pilchard looks at me sharply.

“Excellent very perceptive of you. And Ben Hur?”

“The same.”

“Marvellous.” Pilchard claps his hands together in glee. “So what are the similarities between the movies?”

“They are based on a pile of crap?”

“Crudely put, but yes. What’s the one thing the movies make the viewer believe?”

Ooh, tricky.

Um. Um.

Then I remember how Gladiator made me feel.

“They make me believe it was real.”

“Exactly. When we visit the British Museum in a few weeks you will be able to look at what few facts and articles they can base a film on but yet still make the ticket paying audience believe it to be real.”

The bell goes and everyone leaps out of their seats.

“Lilah,” Pilchard calls.

“Yes?” I try not to roll my eyes, but am only partially successful.

“Well done.”

“Uh, thanks.”

“You seem to be enjoying your studies a bit more. I am pleased.”

“Yeah, I guess I am. Uh, Professor Pilch, Pilch, Pilch …”

“Mike?”

“Mike, I am sorry about my last essay. I just want you to know how embarrassed I am by it.”

“Why would you be embarrassed? It was fine, not a first, but fine all the same.”

“Really? Mine?”

“Yes, Delilah, yours. Now, run along. I am sure your friends are panicking in case I have eaten you or something.”

I smile and dash out of the door.

Richard is outside having a smoke and Meredith is with him.

“Lilah, Lilah? Has anyone seen my friend Lilah? Has she been stolen by aliens?” Meredith calls to the entire student body walking by.

Ha bloody ha.

Richard sweeps a hand over my forehead. “You feel okay, Lilah?”

I stick my tongue out. “Yes, I am.”

Then I decide to do one better and jump up and give him a squeeze. “Thanks for helping me with my essays.”

“You are welcome. You can trap me in your bedroom and force me to do things anytime you like.”

He says this with a wink, but I hit him with my bag all the same. Turning I find Meredith glaring at us. I shoot her a questioning look which she frowns at. What’s her problem?

“Fancy coming over to study now?” I ask him.

“What about me? Am I bloody invisible?” Meredith grumbles.

“Well, you will be in your room looking at whatever it is you stare at on the computer all night.” It might be my imagination but I am sure she flushes a tinge of pink that clashes with her flame hair.

“I’m in,” Richard confirms, turning toward the exit. “But is there any chance you are going to feed me this time? You can’t keep starving me. It’s hard maintaining this physique.”

“I thought you lived on beer and cigarettes.”

“Don’t forget the toast.”

“Beer, cigarettes and toast. Sounds like my kind of diet.”

Richard gives a little groan.
“Better get some bread then on the way back.”

“No, it’s okay I don’t want to be accused of being a shit hostess. I will cook something.”

Now what can I cook?

9.00 p.m.

Toasted cheese sandwiches and a bottle of beer. It’s a step up from Cheerio’s or toast. I am quite proud.

4th February

Midnight

“I did something very exciting tonight.” The excitement is so much, I have to take a long drag on my cigarette, just to make the moment last longer.

“You did, did you? What was that?” Ben blows out his own lungful of smoke.

We are perfecting the art of long distance tandem smoking. It’s about the only skill we are going to be able to perfect together right now.

“I cooked dinner!” I start to giggle straight away.

“You did not.”

“I most certainly did!”

“And what gastronomic feast did you provide your guests with?”

“Toasted cheese sandwiches.”

I hear Ben slowly release the air he has been holding whilst waiting with baited breath for me to announce my new culinary skills. “A toasted sandwich?”

“Yes, what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing at all, I just wish I’d been there to have one. So who did you create your new Michelin starred menu for?”

“Oh just Mer and Rich.” I tell him flicking my cigarette out of the open window.

Silence.

“Ben, are you there?”

“Yeah, I’m here. So where were Tristan, Beth and Jayne?”

“Trist was out being an arse somewhere, and Beth and Jayne are still not talking since the whole don’t have sex with your best friend thing?”

“What? The whole don’t do what thing?”

“You know? I told you? About Beth and Jayne sleeping together on New Year’s Eve?”

“You did not.”

“I did.”

“Lilah, I can promise you right now, you did not.”

Crap, who did I tell then?

Ben changes the subject away from our two friends with benefits. “So it was just the three of you then?”

“Yeah, well Meredith was still doing her secret squirrel with her laptop but she came out to eat. Well, when the smoke alarm kept going off. I have to admit I burnt the first few rounds.”

“You surprise me!”

“Ha fucking ha. Anyway she came out. We had a few beers and ate my gourmet sandwiches, but then Rich wanted to watch some shit late night movie that he said would be good for our History on Screen module, I told him it looked shit and sent him home.”

“Late night movie? What time does that start?”

There is a tone in his voice that I cannot make out.

“Half eleven. Come on, Ben. You haven’t been gone long enough to forget what time the late night movies start.”

“So what? He has only just left?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“He has been there since after lectures and only just left?”

“Uh yeah, I don’t understand what you are talking about.”

Silence.

“Well nothing I guess.”

“No. Come on, Ben. Something is clearly on your mind.”

“Did you not think that I might be jealous?”

What?

“Why on earth would you be jealous? It’s only Richard and a toasted sandwich?”

“Yeah and the fact you have spent the last what, five, six hours with some guy who is not me?”

I don’t think I have ever heard Ben jealous before. This is new territory and I am not sure what to say.

“Ben it was a sandwich.”

“It’s not the point is it?”

“Well, how many hours have you spent with Mihraandah today?” Okay I probably did not need to say her name like that. I try and correct myself straight away, but fail. “Ben it was just a sandwich and hanging out, what am I not allowed any friends of the male species?”

Silence
.

“Well did you hold hands?”

“No!”

“Did you sing together?”

“No!”

“Did you dance?”

He is laughing a little now.

“Oh, my God, no! What do you think? I am just going to burst into song midway through buttering the bread?”

“Well, it could happen?”

“Did it ever happen with you?”

“Well, no.”

“Then I think we are safe on that happening. Speaking of which, you have not played guitar to me for ages.”

“True.”

“Could you play now?”

“Maybe?”

“Do you need to get the Gibson?”

“Nope, got it.”

“Okay play …”

He strums a couple of notes.

“Wait!”