Heart of Glass (29 page)

“
So I meant nothing to
you?”

“
I don’t love you, if
that’s what you mean. It was all lies to get into your pants. I
never had an affair with Teresa Goddard. I knew her but she
wouldn’t give me the time of day. She was a stuck up bitch, like
you. You’re nothing but a little private school girl who thought
she’d do a bit of slumming with the lower classes.”

I fingered the edge of the
table; the tears were dripping down my nose and falling into a pool
next to my hand. “There was no baby?”

“
That was a nice touch,
don’t you think?”

I looked at the shadow of
Mark. I’d been an idiot to trust him. They’d been laughing at me,
playing me for the fool. When would I learn?

Swallowing, I picked up the
photo, sliding the small packet that lay next to it underneath and
stuffing them both into my pocket. I pushed my fingers across my
eyes, wiping the tears away, and my eyeliner to a dark smudge
across my temple.

“
You arsehole.”

He laughed; an
uncontrollable neurotic laugh. Well, let him laugh, I had his
drugs. Wait till he found that out.

Taking the stairs two at a
time, I stumbled into the bar. The pain inside me felt as big as a
melon as the sobs wracked my body. Why? Why had he done it? If he
didn’t want to see me anymore why didn’t he just say? A line of
girls blocked the way to the toilet but unseeing, I pushed past
them into a cubicle and, as a spray of abuse followed in my wake, I
locked the door and collapsed, heartbroken, to the floor. Twice, it
had happened. I’d given my heart and had it stomped on.

Pulling the photo from my
pocket, I stared at the picture. I looked like a whore, my naked
body bruised and my eyes half closed. How could I not have known?
How could I have let it happen? Sniffing the tears away, I picked
up the plastic baggy I’d taken from the table. I turned it in my
fingers. A little snort was sure make me feel better. I held up the
bag to the light and shook it. What did it matter anyway? I was
kidding myself to think I was ever good enough; I was worthless. I
didn’t deserve to be loved, look at the way I treated my friends.
Pushing the plastic zipper to the side, I tapped some of the powder
onto the back of my hand. The rush was intense, blinding and
instant. It was fantastic. I snorted some more.

The last thing I remember
was the sound of girls screaming on the other side of the
door.

***

In my dream, I was floating
above my body in a strange room. My eyes were closed as if in sleep
and there were tubes attached to my mouth and forearm. My skin was
deathly pale but my breathing, at least, was even. My hair splayed
out, fanlike, over the pillow. It’s odd to see yourself as others
do. From this view I saw clearly what people had said about me all
my life. My face looked younger than my years and cherubic, Ben
always said I was an angel. Maybe his words had been spoken
truly.

In my dream I could hear
them. I could see them, even though my eyes were closed. Ben was
standing over me, a frightened look on his face. I suppose, he’d
never experienced anything so close to death and it showed in his
eyes. Tenderly, he picked up my hand and held it to his cheek. I
could see in his face that he wanted to cry at the way I looked -
so thin, a twig that he could snap with a touch of his hand, a
fragile bird. The blue tinge of shadow under my eyes only added to
his perception. Then he spoke, and I wondered, was I dead? Was this
my end and not some strange dream?

“
Oh Bella, what’ve you
done? Why were you so sad that you’d do this to
yourself?”

It was only later in the
dream that I heard they had found me clinging to a thread of life,
with a stream of frothing spittle dribbling from the side of my
mouth after taking the overdose of heroin.

“
It’s such a
waste.”

I saw Ben’s eyes fill with
tears from where I floated, and I wanted to cry too. He did love
me, as I loved him. After all the things we’d said and done, after
all the years, he still loved me.

Then I saw Mum, standing
next to him, her hand on his arm. “She’s been calling for
you.”

That was funny, even as the
angel I was now, I didn’t remember calling his name, but maybe I
had. I couldn’t remember half the stuff I’d done with Mark, so why
would I remember that.

“
She’s been in and out of
consciousness,” Mum’s voice choked on the words. “We don’t know if
the damage is permanent or if she’ll make it through.”

“
What happened?”

“
She took something. The
doctors seem to think it was an extremely pure dose of heroin. It
was too much for her body to handle. She’s so frail these
days.”

“
Can I sit with her a
while?”

“
Stay as long as you like.
Talk to her, I know she can hear us….I think I’ll go and get some
air.” She smiled and then I knew it was a dream. Mum had never been
so friendly with Ben in real life.

Ben pulled a chair around
and sat down beside me, studying my quiet face. His hand was warm
and comforting as he took mine, turning it to kiss the transparent
skin of my wrist.

Even in my dream, I could
feel the touch of his lips on my skin. I could feel the blood
coursing through my veins, shifting my tenuous hold on
life.

He looked over at my face,
peaceful in the drug-induced sleep, and touched my hair with his
finger. “You still look like a child, an innocent girl, the way you
did when we first met. Do you remember that day Bella; do you
remember our first kiss?” he whispered to my sleeping form. “Í
should’ve been here to protect you. I should’ve looked after you,
like I promised. Oh God, Bella, please don’t die. I love you too
much.”

Then, I saw my eyelids
flutter. My skin tingled and I struggled to lift my lids a
fraction. It was a blur but I could see his grief stricken face
changing and I smiled.

“
Ben?”

“
I’m here.”

Was this still the dream?
Was he really there or was it only a subconscious yearning? He’d
always said if I needed him and thought of him he would come for
me.

“
I’m glad,” I said, “I
missed you. I searched everywhere but I couldn’t find
you.”

My eyes closed and as I
drifted back into sleep I could hear him talking to me, whispering
his tenderness into my ear. “I’ll always be here for you, Bella.
I’ll always love you but I can’t come back unless you ask me. I
won’t chase you any more. The decision has to be yours.”

***

It was eight days before my
eyes opened for the first time and I looked around the hospital
room wondering where I was and how I’d got there. I choked on the
tube in my throat and the nurses bustled around me to remove it.
Mum and dad cried as I smiled groggily at them. I couldn’t
understand the reason for the fuss. My brow fell to a quizzical
frown as I tried to remember. It was no good, the memories were
gone. Except for one.

I had dreamed the most
beautiful dream. In my dream, Ben had held my hand and kissed my
forehead as he whispered that he loved me. It had been so real, I’d
expected to find him sitting there next to the bed but he wasn’t.
Coops was, and his eyes were filled with sadness and love. Ben had
only been a dream. But dreams could come true.

Chapter 20

1987 - WHAT’S NEW
PUSSYCAT?

Pussycat,
Pussycat

You're
delicious

And if my
wishes

Can all come
true

I'll soon be kissing your
sweet little pussycat lips

Tom Jones

So, here we were, ‘back to
the future’ as the movie title went. My mind was racing as I stood
there like some gawking teenager, gaping at the man who was staring
at me. Was this some sort of divine punishment for my years of bad
girl behaviour? If so, it was bound to prove far more effective
than anything Mother Imelda had ever dished out at school. I never
imagined that I’d see Ben again and I had no idea how to
cope.

I eyed him over the rim of
my glass. Who was I kidding? I had imagined it…. but the meeting
didn’t involve me wearing a tailored Country Road suit and sipping
white wine. It’d gone something along the lines of me wearing
nothing but some slinky underwear and him only a smile. ‘In the
Flesh’ would of course be playing over and over in the background
and all that had passed between us when I was young and foolish
would swept away by the passion in his eyes. Yet, there he was,
standing in front of me looking cool in a white open neck shirt and
designer jeans, as if a stylist had dressed him before he left the
house. My heart, fickle and unrepentant, skipped all the way into
my throat, ready any minute to jump out and perch itself on my
sleeve like some token of longing.

Taking a quick swig of my
drink, I tried to compose myself, and determined not to let him see
how shaken I was, my gaze fell into those piercing blue eyes. His
lashes rest upon his chiselled cheek, caressing it with their
softness as I already longed to. I cursed and tried to surround
myself with thoughts of the horrid things he’d done to me when I
was too stupid to know better. Armed and ready, a cynical smile
played on my lips.

“
Ben. Never expected you’d
be the new flatmate Justin told me about.”

There. Cool and calm. I
sounded so cool I could have been the lead skater in the Torville
and Dean Ice Show. I gave myself a quiet pat on the back, for right
about then, my knees were threatening to give way from under me and
images of the night at my house, eight years ago danced in front of
my eyes. It was happening all over again. I felt like that awkward
girl who had worried so much about her lip-gloss.

“
Justin told me his best
friend was called Bella. I should’ve put two and two
together.”

He leant over and kissed my
cheek and my heart danced out onto my sleeve, baring
itself.

“
You haven’t changed a bit,
that smile is still the same.”

“
Maybe so, but the girl
inside has changed.”

Oh boy had I
changed.

“
We’ll see.”

A lazy grin stretched across
his face. My heart sprang to attention even though I tried to stop
it.

We stood in an uncomfortable
silence, with me glaring at him as if I would like nothing better
than to toss my wine in his arrogant face and he openly leering
right back until Justin started to laugh.

“
If I’d known I’d get this
reaction, I’d have got you together sooner.”

I fixed him with a glacial
stare and he sank into his drink. Then turning, I smiled and braced
myself, “So, Ben, drink? What’s your preference?”

I hoped I sounded like the
sophisticated career girl that I was but he continued to stare as
if he was seeing me in some new light. “Beer’s fine,
thanks.”

I put my empty glass on the
bar and pulled out a ten-dollar note, waving it. Nick sidled along
the bar, his trademark grin lighting up the room.

“
Cara
, Bella. Ravishing…. As always. What would you like?” he
winked. Sexual banter had remained a major component of our
friendship, though we had not been lovers for years. I bent further
over the bar and kissed his mouth fondly, my hand grazing his
stubbled cheek in a caress. My nostrils flared at the crispness of
his aftershave. Since the first night we met, it had never
changed.

“
Um, a beer for Justin and
another for Ben, please.”

Nick reached across the bar.
“Nick Edwards, I’m the owner, pleased to meet you.”

True to his word, Nick had
spent the past five years, working and saving hard. For his effort,
he’d been able to buy the bar he’d spoken of owning when we’d first
met.

“
Ben James.”

“
The
footballer?”

“
Not any more.”

Nick winked at me again.
“The usual for you, too,
Cara
?”

“
Surprise me.”

“
Ah,
Cara,
you know I’d like nothing
more.
”
With a
touch of my hand, he went to make the drinks.

“
Why does he call you
that?” Ben asked.

“
When we first met, Nick
had come back from two years in Europe. He used to call me
Cara
cause it means
‘beautiful’ in Italian, you know, like ‘Bella’. I guess it sort of
stuck.”

“
You know him well,
then?”

“
We’ve been friends for
ages, isn’t that right, Nick?”

“
Mmm and sometimes more.
Here you go...”

I reached across and gave
Ben his beer. Our fingers touched on the icy glass but I didn’t
feel the cold. His fingers had melted it. Ben looked down at his
hand and then back to me and for a second the spark flashed,
recognition of our shared history, our past love. The blush flooded
my cheeks with the intensity of his gaze. The chemistry was still
there.