‘I followed her home,’ I said. ‘Made sure she got there safely. It’s up to you now.’
Giles was silent. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and could only wait for him to break the ice. Finally, he stood up. ‘The Filth Monger,’ he said with a short bark of a laugh. ‘Most appropriate. Well…’ He walked over to the door. ‘Mission accomplished, it would seem.’
‘I have to keep the tape,’ I said, following him over. ‘For obvious reasons, but I can give you a copy if you need one.’
‘No,’ he shuddered visibly. ‘Once is more than enough. Keep it,’ he said. ‘But keep it safe. No fuck ups.’
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘You have my word.’
‘I hope so.’ He opened the door, to show me out. ‘And if there’s anything I can do…’
I stopped there, in the doorway. This was my chance. ‘Actually,’ I said. ‘There is something I could use your help with…’
Thirteen
By the time Liv got in, I was asleep. I was so exhausted I’d eventually lain down and drifted off, even over the incessant throb of the music. I awoke to the sound of raised voices. The music had stopped and someone was crying – a low, wailing sound.
At first, I thought it was Liv, and I froze. I’d just got up, ready to go down and fight her corner, when I heard her shout something and the front door slammed. I went downstairs, hesitantly. I felt like I was intruding.
Liv was standing by the front door, looking at herself in a mirror. She was obviously dissatisfied with what she saw, because she leaned over and ruffled her short, dark hair, pushing at it to make it stand up. I didn’t know why she bothered. Her pixie-cut locks always looked immaculate, and framed her pale face, with its dark eyes and tip-tilted nose, perfectly. She was stunning in a thrown-together kind of way, and was never out of a pair of jeans outside of work. She span around when she heard my footsteps, and looked up at me. ‘Dick,’ she said, nodding towards the door with an apologetic smile. ‘Did we wake you, hon?’
I shook my head. ‘It’s fine.’
‘My fucking hair.’ She ran her fingers through it again, throwing her reflection a critical look.
‘It’s fine,’ I said again.
‘I’m growing it out.’ She turned back to me. ‘Fuck knows why.’
I laughed. ‘So what’s the deal with you and Nick Cave’s baby brother?’ I started to walk downstairs.
‘Don’t even ask.’ She gave a sad smile and opened her arms in a welcoming gesture. ‘Musically, we’re compatible. Sexually… not so much… and domestically…’ She shuddered visibly. ‘I’m not his bloody mother!’
I reached the bottom of the stairs, and fell into her embrace. She wrapped her arms around me and hugged me to her as if she wanted to squeeze the hurt out of me. I started crying again. God, would I ever stop?
‘It’s okay, sweetie,’ she murmured in my ear. ‘It’s gonna be fine. Just let it all come out. I’ve got you.’
I went through the whole sobbing scenario all over again, right there in her hallway.
‘I’m sorry,’ I croaked, eventually. ‘I can’t seem to stop at the moment.’
‘Shut up,’ she said. ‘It’s been one day.’
She put her arm around my waist, and shepherded me through into her living room. It was magenta too, the paint daubed thickly over the wallpaper. Sagging patchwork sofas dominated the room, brought into focus by the open fireplace.
From the mantelpiece, a photo of her mum frowned down, flanked by growths of candle and incense sticks. It was practically a shrine, but Mum didn’t seem too impressed. She was probably pissed off by Liv’s refurbishment of the place, if that was the word I wanted. Looking at the heavy, black curtains and the cigarette burns on the carpet, refurbishment seemed an over-enthusiastic description, but the place suited Liv and, now Gav had gone, it suited me. Even so, I couldn’t stop moving, pacing again, restless.
‘You can stay as long as you want, hon,’ Liv said, lighting a cigarette. ‘No problem. Now, stop wearing out the shag pile, for fuck’s sake, and sit down.’
I did as I was bidden. ‘Thanks,’ I said, and I meant it so much. ‘I didn’t know where to go. I rang my sister…’
‘Don’t.’ Liv shot me a look of disdain. ‘That self-satisfied bitch. Talking of which, there’s something I should probably tell you, and you’re not going to like it…’
Fourteen
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake…’ Liv came back into the living room carrying two cups of tea. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
She passed me mine – an old chipped mug with Garfield on it. It reminded me of a card Leo had bought me when we first started going out, and I felt the tears welling up again.
I looked up at the mantelpiece and told myself firmly it wasn’t that bad. No one had died. She went over to the window, and pushed open the heavy curtains. The evening sunlight filtered through and caught on the motes of dust floating in the room. I watched them absently, as she looked out at the garden.
‘Of course it’s not your fault,’ she said finally, turning to face me. She sat down in the armchair opposite me, and put her mug on the coffee table. ‘How could it be?’
‘But I told you,’ I ran my finger around the top of my cup, the chip snagging at my skin. ‘I wasn’t…satisfied.’
‘Nor was he.’ She gave a snort of disgust. ‘God knows why. Bottom line, you stayed faithful, he didn’t. So how is it your fault?’
‘The guy in Max’s office…’ I began.
‘Hell yeah.’ She picked up her cup and took a slurp of tea. ‘So you went weak at the knees? So did I. So did the entire female workforce of Ffyvells, I should think.’ She took another slurp. ‘Not to mention a fair percentage of the men. Jeremy, for one.’
‘He wasn’t there,’ I said vacantly, still swirling my fingertip around the mug. The chip caught it on each circuit. The certainty of it made it almost reassuring.
‘He wasn’t quite up to Max’s standard, though.’ She carried on as if I hadn’t spoken. ‘He was a bit too…’
‘Perfect?’
‘…refined…for my taste.’ She grinned wickedly. ‘You know me…down and dirty.’
I managed a smile. ‘Yeah, Max is more of a bad boy, somehow, isn’t he?’
Liv laughed. ‘He’s a plaster saint compared to some of the boys I’ve known, but yeah,’ she drained her cup and slammed it down. ‘He’ll do for me.’
‘So…’ I couldn’t help myself. It hardly mattered any more, anyway. I had no one to feel guilty about. ‘Who was he? Do you know?’
‘The guy in Max’s office?’ Liv grinned. ‘That’s my girl. Sorry, but I’ve no idea. There was nothing in the diary though. Believe me – I looked. So I’d say either it was an emergency, or he’s a friend of Max’s.’
‘Or both,’ I said thoughtfully.
‘Whoever the hell he is,’ she stood up and went over to the mantelpiece. ‘He’s not the reason you’re sitting here tonight. You’re just trying to make allowances for your shitty boyfriend.’
‘Maybe if I’d been more attentive…’
Liv was straightening her mother’s photo but, at my words, she turned sharply and frowned at me. ‘He wouldn’t have hit you? Girls who get knocked about are usually very attentive, in my experience. I mean, you wouldn’t want to upset him, would you?’
‘I…’
‘Give him whatever he wants, forget to worry about what you need, isn’t that how it goes?’
‘But I…’ I tried to protest, but even I could feel the weakness in my voice.