In a Dark, Dark Wood(25)

God this was pathetic. It was like being back at school – bitch fights and sniping and everything. I had sworn never to go back. This had been a mistake. A dreadful, dreadful mistake.

‘I’m sorry, Nora.’ It was Nina’s voice, slurred with alcohol but tinged with real concern – at least it sounded so. ‘I didn’t think … please, come out.’

‘I need to go to bed,’ I said. There was a catch in my throat, hoarseness from throwing up.

‘Le … Nora, please,’ Clare begged. ‘Come on, I’m sorry. Nina’s sorry.’

I took a deep breath and slid back the lock.

They were standing outside, their expressions hangdog in the bright light from the bathroom.

‘Please, Lee,’ Clare took my hand. ‘Come back down.’

‘It’s fine,’ I said. ‘Honestly. But I really am tired, I was up at five to catch the train.’

‘All right …’ Clare let go of my hand reluctantly. ‘As long as you’re not going off in a snit.’

I felt my teeth grit in spite of myself. Be calm. Don’t make this all about you.

‘No, I’m not g-going off in a “snit”,’ I said, trying to keep my voice light. ‘I’m just tired. Now, I’m going to brush my teeth. See you in the morning.’

I elbowed past them to the bedroom to get my washbag, and when I came back they were still there, Nina tapping her foot on the parquet.

‘So you really mean it?’ she said. ‘You’re bailing out? Christ, Lee, it was just a joke. If anyone’s got a right to be offended it’s Clare, and she’s taking it OK. Have you lost your sense of humour since school?’

For a second I thought of all the replies I could make. It wasn’t a joke. She knew full well what that question meant to me, and she’d deliberately brought James up in the one place and at the one time I couldn’t dodge it, or smooth it over.

But what was the point? Like an idiot I’d taken the bait, exploded on cue. It was done.

‘I’m not bailing out,’ I said wearily. ‘It’s gone midnight. I’ve been up since five. Please, I really just want some sleep.’

I realised, even as I said the words, that I was pleading, offering up excuses, trying to absolve myself of guilt for leaving the party. Somehow the realisation stiffened my nerve. We weren’t sixteen any more. We didn’t have to hang around like there was an invisible umbilical cord tethering us together. We’d gone our separate ways and all survived. Me getting some sleep wasn’t going to ruin Clare’s hen for ever, and I didn’t have to justify the decision like a prisoner in the Star Chamber.

‘I’m going to bed,’ I repeated.

There was a pause. Clare and Nina looked at each other, and then Clare said, ‘OK.’

For some irrational reason that single word annoyed me more than anything else – I knew she was only agreeing, but the word had a ring of ‘permission granted’ that made my skin crawl. I am not yours to boss around any more.

‘Night,’ I said shortly, and pushed past them into the bathroom. Over the running water and the toothbrush’s rasp I could hear them whispering outside, and I deliberately stayed in there, wiping off my mascara with unaccustomed care, until their voices disappeared and I heard their footsteps on the parquet trailing away.

I let out a breath, releasing tension I hadn’t even known I was holding, and felt the muscles in my neck and shoulder unclench.

Why? Why did they still have this power over me, Clare in particular? Why did I let them?

I sighed, shoved the toothbrush and toothpaste back into my washbag, pushed open the door and padded up the hallway to the bedroom. It was cool and quiet, quite different from the overheated, over-populated living room. I could hear Jarvis Cocker in the background, his voice floating up the open hallway, but the sound muted to just a muffled bassline when I shut the bedroom door and flopped down on the bed. The relief was indescribable. If I shut my eyes I could almost imagine myself back in my little flat in Hackney; only the sound of traffic and honking horns outside was missing.

I wished myself back there, so powerfully that I could almost feel the worn softness of my flowered duvet cover beneath my palm, see the rattan blind that flapped softly at the window on summer nights.

But then there was a knock at the door, and when I opened my eyes, the blank blackness of the forest reflected back at me from the glass wall. I sighed, gearing myself up to answer it, and then the knock came again.

‘Lee?’

I got up and opened the door. It was Flo standing outside, her hands on her hips.

‘Lee! I can’t believe you’re doing this to Clare!’

‘What?’ I felt immensely tired all of a sudden. ‘Doing what? Going to bed?’

‘I’ve gone to loads of effort to make this a perfect weekend for Clare – I’ll kill you if you ruin it on the very first night!’

‘I’m not ruining anything, Flo. You’re the one making this into a big deal, not me. I just want to go to bed. All right?’

‘No, it’s not all right. I won’t have you sabotaging everything I’ve worked for!’

‘I just want to go to bed,’ I repeated, like a mantra.

‘Well, I think you’re being a … a selfish bitch,’ Flo burst out. Her face was red, and she looked as if she was on the verge of tears. ‘Clare’s … Clare’s the best, OK? And she deserves … she deserves—’ Her chin wobbled.