The Dr Pepper Prophecies (26 page)

'Do you really want to move?' I ask.  Deep down, I think I already know the answer.

Mum shakes her head. 'No,' she says resignedly. 'I don't.'

'Well then say so,' I say, impassioned. 'Put your foot down.  It’s not too late to start affecting your own life.'

I can see Mum shying away from the idea.

'I couldn’t,' she says. 'If your father decides to sell, I’ll go along with it.'

'But the house is half yours,' I insist. 'And he’d be lost without you.  He doesn’t even know where the towels are kept.'

'The man is the head…' my mother starts to say.

'That’s crap,' I say flatly, almost forgetting that I’m talking to my mother. 'You own half the house, you’re half the marriage so you get half the say.  Tell him you want to stay and make him listen.'

My mother smiles wryly. 'You still have much to learn about men, my darling,' she says.

'I know about Will,' I shoot back. 'He understands the concept of equals.  What more proof do you need that a Y chromosome doesn’t eliminate the ability to compromise?  It’s completely unreasonable of Dad to expect you to casually pull up your roots and replant yourself in an area where you know no one and you need to make him see that.'

'Had I known political posturing was part of your job description,' comes Martin’s irritated voice from the door, 'I would have issued you with a regulation soap box.  Please save your ideologies for designated break times and return to work.'

He disappears again, face like a weasel’s.

'Charming man,' my mother says. 'Your boss, I take it?'

I nod. 'And my ex,' I explain. 'He dumped me as soon as he got the job here and he’s been victimising me ever since.'

'That doesn’t seem right,' Mum says, frowning. 'Isn’t there anyone you could speak to about his behaviour?'

'Yeah,' I say grimly, 'him.  I’m trying to find a new job, but no luck so far.'

Mum looks surprised and concerned. 'And is he representative of the kind of man you usually see?' she asks.

'Oh no,' I say cynically, 'I’ve dated much worse.  It’s not easy to find the good guys.  Hunting grounds have stopped being offices and starting being reality TV shows.'

'I think you can be sure you are better off without that one,' Mum says, returning to Martin, 'but I suppose I should let you get back to work so we don’t antagonise him any further.'

'That’s probably a good idea,' I admit reluctantly.

Mum picks up her coat, tipping her bag over as she stands up.  And envelope falls out of it and I bend down to pick it up.

It’s an official one, I notice, but I don’t think it’s a bill.  N.A.I.D. it says on the logo.  What’s that?  And why is she carrying it around in her bag?

Mum takes it from me quickly and shoves it in her bag. 'Just a letter from a friend,' she says quickly.

Mmm, a frien
d who writes on company stationery.

Wonderful, more mysteries.

**
 

I’m wondering about it again when I get home from pretending to meet Beth on Friday.  I told her I’d had to go straight up to town after work to get a present for Mum's birthday (which isn't until November, but she doesn't know that) and I’d meet her there.  By now she should be meeting Patrick.  Beth will have a great time and I will have a nice quiet evening all to myself.

Perfection.

Perfection lasts about an hour.  Maybe less.  I’m just settling down on the sofa with a
Blackadder
DVD and a fresh batch of Angel Delight when the door is unlocked and thrown open.

For the record, I mean
thrown
.  The door handle nearly punctures the wall.

It’s Beth and yet not Beth.  Beth’s psychotic twin sister.  The angel has fallen from grace.  Her hair is wild, her expression savage and I am seriously scared.

'What the hell is wrong with you?' she screams, at such a high pitch I half expect the light bulb to shatter. 'Why can’t you understand plain English?'

She advances on me and I instinctively shrink back against the far arm of the sofa.

'I don’t want to go out with Patrick,' she shouts. 'How can that mean I want you to set me up with him?  Why the hell can’t you just leave me alone?'

God, what on Earth happened?

'Are you okay?' I ask tentatively, the dormouse facing the lion.

'No, I am not
fucking okay!' Beth screams at me, kicking over the coffee table.  A chocolate puddle spreads slowly over the carpet.

She’s drunk, I’m sure of it.  Seriously, frighteningly drunk.

'And you know what?' she says, now close enough for me to smell her breath and know for sure, 'you can no longer ask me that question.  I don’t want to see you, I don’t want to speak to you and I’m sure as hell not going to keep living with you.  Get out!'

She jabs her finger at the door.  When I don’t move, she grabs my hand and yanks me to my feet.

'Get out!' she repeats, shoving me over to the door.  She pushes me outside and slams the door behind me.

'And stay out!' I hear through the door.

I stare at the door from the wrong side of it.  The paint is peeling a bit round the edges and the metal number has lost a screw.  I don’t know how to react.

That's Beth in there.  Beth.  Beth who, until this moment, I thought was the embodiment of The Seven Deadly Virtues.  Calm, sensible, teetotal Beth.

I’m locked out.  I have no money.  I’ve just been thrown out of my own home.  I’m wearing fluffy elephant slippers on my feet.

What do I do?  Where do I go?

I’m having a crisis.  And there's only one thing I can do in a crisis.

Me and my elephant friends take the first step towards Will.

Needless to say I get some rather strange looks on the way, although a group of glittery teenagers seem to think I’m making some anti-convention statement and yell out a few encouraging-sounding words that, before now, I didn’t know formed part of the English language.

With summer limping towards us, it's still quite light.  It's amazing how…normal the world looks.  It doesn't seem right that my life can be turned upside down and yet everyone else's is unchanged.

Did you ever see
The Truman Show
?  The only guy the world really did revolve around.  For the rest of us…we're just not that important, I guess.

The further I get from home, the more real the situation becomes.  And the more afraid I get of what’s going to happen next.  I mean, I live there.  I can’t exactly never go back.

Although I suppose I could send Will round for my stuff.

And I’m sure he’d let me stay with him.

Of course, then I’d have to lie in bed at night knowing that Will and Natalie were in his room together.

God, what am I going to do?

Will’s caretaker (well, his building's caretaker) recognises me and pauses in mending the outside light to let me in, barely raising an eyebrow at my slippers.  Which is probably because I turned up dressed as a carrot last Halloween.  And a goblin the one before that.  I mutter a thank you and trudge up the stairs.

Which is when it first occurs to me that Will might not be there.  Or that he might be there with Natalie.

What would I do then?

I reach his door and ring the bell.  Not once, not twice, but six times.  I wait, concentrating on visualising Will answering the door.

Although I suppose visualisation can’t help much if he’s not there.

Even when I’ve waited long enough for a tortoise to reach the door, I refuse to give up.  He could be in the shower, or be wearing earplugs, and be not quite sure if the bell has rung or not.

So I ring it again.  Six more times.

The minutes tick by.  No Will.  Not even any sounds of movement inside.

After watching five long minutes on my watch, I admit it to myself.  Will is not here.

I slump to the floor outside his door and lean back on it.  Suddenly my legs can’t hold me up anymore.  Reality has just bitten and the blood loss has left me too weak to stand.

I’m homeless.  I’m alone.  I have no place to go and no one to turn to.

I pull off my elephants and hug them to my chest the way I usually do with my pillow when I’m upset and Will isn’t there.  And I start to cry.

Tears drip uselessly down my face and onto the carpet.

I’m homeless and alone.

I’m homeless and alone.

I’m home…

The lift wirrs up to my floor and the little number at the top lights up as it shudders to a halt.  The doors jerk open and Will steps out.

He might as well be dressed in shining armour instead of battered jeans and a
Galaxy Quest
t-shirt.  I have never been so utterly grateful to see anyone in my entire life.

'Mel,' Will exclaims, startled to say the least. 'What on Earth…?'

That’s as far as he gets before I, having scrambled to my feet the moment I saw him, throw my arms around his neck and kiss him.  On the mouth.  And…he kind of kisses me back.

Crap, why did I do that?

I suddenly feel all nervous and panicky.  I’ve never kissed Will like that before.  I don’t know what to do with myself.

And I never imagined that it would make me feel like that.

I mean, I never imagined it full stop.

And I can’t read Will’s expression and that’s even scarier to me.

'What happened?' Will asks, sounding concerned but more-or-less natural, while I put my slippers back on as something to occupy myself with.

'Beth threw me out of the flat,' I say, daring to look up at him in the hope that the enormity of my statement will render the awkwardness obsolete.

Will looks as though I’ve told him that aliens have landed in Leicester Square.

Although
, if I really did say that he’d probably get all excited and want to go there and see.

'Beth?  Threw you out?' Will repeats
.

I nod.

Will rakes a hand through his hair. 'Frell,' he says confusedly. 'What…I mean, why…are you okay?  How long have you been here?'

'I just got here,' I say, rubbing my eyes on my sleeve. 'And you weren’t here and I didn’t know where else to go.'

Will hugs me and holds me close. 'I’m here now,' he murmurs into my hair. 'Come in and get cleaned up and I’ll find you something to wear.' He frowns. 'I’m sure I have something somewhere that won’t fall off you.'

Maybe I should have mentioned that I’m also wearing my pyjamas with flying pigs on them.  I’m not even wearing a bra. 

Which is probably another reason why the caretaker was so pleased to see me.

He unlocks the door and I pad into the flat in my elephants, Will’s hand resting lightly on the small of my back.  I’m getting that warm feeling again.

What does this mean?

**
 

I’m lying in Will’s absolutely massive bathtub, enjoying the
mountain of bubbles – in a delightfully childish way – that I’ve created with half a bottle of extremely expensive-looking foam bath that must belong to Natalie.

Share and share alike.  Her fault for leaving it there.

Although I’m trying not to let it, Will’s kiss is on instant replay in my mind.  I can’t get it out of my head.

Will and I are friends.  We always have been.  Nothing else.  We’ve never lost a dare, or got drunk and depressed, or won each other at spin the bottle.  It just hasn’t been an issue.

But I’ve never felt that way when anyone else kissed me.

There’s that little voice again.

I lie back and soak my hair.  I'll have an afro later, but I don't care.

Being a good kisser doesn’t make him boyfriend material, does it?  Enjoying one little kiss doesn’t mean I fancy him.

What does it mean then?

Crap, I’m so confused.

Okay, check list.

Do I think that Will is handsome?  Yes.

Well…it’s not a matter for debate, is it?  Comparatively speaking, he is good-looking.  It’s a simple fact, no personal feelings in it at all.

Am I attracted to him?  Ummm…

That’s too hard.  Find an easier one.

Do I like him? Yes.

I like him better than anyone else I’ve ever met.  That’s why we’ve been friends for so long.  But surely the only reason I’ve liked him better than any guy I’ve ever dated is because he’s great and they were all losers.  See, no worrying implications there at all.

So, I don’t fancy him.

Or, maybe…

I need to do the flower-petal thing.  I fancy him, I fancy him not.  But, obviously, no flowers in Will’s bathroom.

I suppose I could pick bristles out of his nail-brush.

But then, he might object to that.