Out Late with Friends and Regrets (54 page)

Twenty to eleven! She had meant to be up earlier than this.
 
Never mind, she had obviously needed the sleep, and it would be a miracle if Marie surfaced earlier than one o’clock.
 
She almost choked on her toast, excitement making it difficult to get down.
 
After showering and liberal anointing, she selected her clothes carefully, best jeans and a turquoise shirt which she knew flattered her.
 
She spent a while on her face.
 
She didn’t want to look overdone, but she had to admit she was looking tired.

Satisfied at last, she stood in front of the full length mirror, put her jacket and scarf on and posed, hands casually in pockets.
 
Yes, that was more like it.
 
A jolt of excitement hit her.
 
Soon, soon.
 
There was just time to nip into the supermarket for a bunch of white lilies, or even better, two, and she would be with Marie by twelve thirty.
 
Just right.

Grain Street was just as dingy as it always had been, but rays of cold-weather sun had breasted the high roofs opposite Marie’s building and reached its upper windows.
 
Fin glanced at the window of 77B.
 
“On my way, Marie.
 
I’m coming for you, Marie,” she muttered.
 
She almost forgot to pick the lilies off the passenger seat before running across the street.

Turn the key, very gently, in the lock.
 
Quiet.
 
Surprise her.

In.

The room was tidy.
 
Strange.
 
And it was light.
 
Yes, the bedspread over the pole had gone.
 
Marie-at-the-shops-buying-curtains fleeted through her mind, though it could have come up with many more likely scenarios.

The smell of the place was different.
 
It felt different.
 
She hesitated, then went over to her chair, set at an unfamiliar angle by the cold fire.
 
In the pit of her soul she knew that Comfy would not be curled up in it, and she stared at the corners of the seat cushion, looking for the small drifts of cat hair she hadn’t realised she knew should be there.
 
It was getting quite hard to breathe properly.

The street door slammed. Marie. Marie, what the hell-

Two sets of footsteps came up the hollow staircase, neither of them Marie’s.

A woman’s voice: “Just here on the right, Mr. Kowalewski.
 
Here, what the-”

The woman appeared at the door, a man behind her.

“What the
bloody
hell are you doing in this flat? How did you get in?” she shouted.

Fin sounded strange, even to herself.

“Came to see- my friend-” and her hand levitated in slow motion, revealing the key in its grasp.
 
The woman snatched it from her.

“And get those bloody lilies off the carpet, the pollen stains, didn’t you know that?”

Fin looked down at the sheaf of lilies hanging down from her other hand.
 
The heads were bent over on the floor, and one of the petals had come off.
 
She lifted the heavy bunch, and began to drift towards the kitchen, with some idea of laying them on the worktop.

“Oh, no you don’t,” said the woman, taking her by the upper arm and swinging her round, “you can just go
right
out of that door
right
now, and don’t come back.
 
Unless you can tell me where that bloody hippie is.
 
She owes me two weeks rent.
 
And
I had to get a cleaner in to do the place from top to bottom.
 
Well, you can tell her from me she’s had her deposit, and she still owes two weeks after that.
 
Bloody junkies, trash the place and do a moonlight...”

“She’s gone? When?” asked Fin, not quite able to look the woman in the eye, and still hoping for a mistake.

“Yes, yes, she’s gone all right.
 
She and her druggy boy-friend loaded up a van on Boxing Day, Mrs. Withers downstairs saw them at it, watched them bugger off, owing two weeks rent and leaving the place like a tip.
 
And
stole one of the cushions.” That must be the one Comfy had used for sharpening his claws on.

Fin looked once more at the chair.

“Cat? Did they take the cat?” It couldn’t be real.

“How the hell do I know? There wasn’t supposed to be an animal on my premises, no pets, it’s in the lease.
 
She would’ve been out long since if I’d known.
 
Cleaner said she had to go down on her knees and scrub with a brush to get the hair up, Hoover wouldn’t touch it, she said.
 
Filthy animals...”

“Perhaps I come back, Mrs. Gill?”

“No, sorry, Mr. Kowalewski, it’s just a trespasser.
 
Trespasser, Mr. Kowalewski, that’s someone who didn’t ought to be here.
 
Just a mistake, that’s all, they’re just leaving, and then we can look round.”

Fin decended the stairs very slowly, heedless of the fine saffron trail of pollen on the bare boards that followed her down.
 
She dropped the lilies on the pavement outside, turning back moments later to retrieve them and put them in the Council street bin, feeding them stem by stem through one of the four slots, followed by the cellophane.
 
She noticed that she had left the price on one of the bunches in her hurry.
 
For a microsecond she thought what a good job it was that Marie hadn’t seen it.
 
Then she cried.

She was still crying when she reached home.
 
She went from room to room, crying and calling “Marie!” as if Marie were upstairs.

The phone rang, and she ignored it.

She walked some more, dry-retched over the basin.
 
Washed her face, and wiped mascara all over the towel.
 
Lay down on the bed, letting out a moan with each breath.
 
Closed her eyes.
 
The phone rang again.

“
No!
” she shouted.
 
The ringing stopped. She drifted, numbness a comfort.
 
She thought she heard ringing later, or it could have been imagination.
 
She opened her eyes after a while.
 
The afternoon light was seeping away. She studied Marie behind her eyelids, a few frames from their brief time together. In the clip, Marie was singing, her face alive, eyes speaking to Fin’s, saying, I would never do that. Then a fade to the empty room where Comfy should have been, and wasn’t.
 
Fin longed for his furry body nestled into hers.
 
Was he curled up next to Sid? Or what if Sid had said, we don’t want a cat, put him out on the street, he’ll be all right.
 
Was Comfy creeping around the freezing rubbish in some alley, she wondered.
 
No, Marie wouldn’t let him go, she couldn’t be so cruel.
 
Not to Comfy.
 
Maybe there was a cat rescue organisation in the town Fin could check with.
 
Oh, God, oh God...

Then it was dark, and she rolled off the bed and stood up.
 
It felt like having the ‘flu.
 
Kind of weird and wobbly, and spaced out.
 
She crept like an old woman to the lavatory, knelt in front of the toilet bowl for a minute or two, waiting to be sick.
 
Nothing.
 
She went down to the kitchen, changed her mind, went into the front room and got herself a drink, pouring herself a tumbler of Grouse.
 
She was just inhaling its breath, when there was a loud knocking at the door.
 

The lights were out.
 
She didn’t need to answer it.
 
She took a gulp of the whisky, and coughed, some of it coming down her nose.
 
The knocker rapped again.
 
She stood still.
 
Then the sound of the letter box being pushed open.

“Fin! Fin! Open the door! Please, Fin, it’s Rachel!”

Fin looked through the open door to the hall, and reluctantly made her way towards it.

She didn’t say Come in; Rachel just did, and opened her arms and held her.
 
Fin stood stiff and still, drink still in hand.
 
Rachel took it from her, and put it on the tiny windowsill.

“Come on,” she said, leading her by the hand and taking her into the sitting room.
 
She put the fire on, and a table lamp, then put her arms around her once more.
 
It was a while before a tear rolled down Fin’s face, but then she crumbled, and wept in Rachel’s arms.
 
Just quietly, trying not to snuffle.

They sat, and she reached for the tissues.
 
Same box as Cecilia had used.
 
Fin had stood there, where Rachel stood now, and pitied Cecilia.
 
Life could certainly play some vile little tricks on you.
 
She sat down on the sofa.

“Cup of tea, Rachel?” That strange, husky voice again.

“I’ll make it, if you want a cup.”

“Not really.
 
How did you know?”

“Well, we knew from the fact we hadn’t seen anything of you, and from the way you talked about her when we did, that it was pretty serious.
 
And Miriam was at a student party on Christmas Eve, and I’m afraid Marie was there.
 
Apparently she and this chap were all over each other, was the way Miriam described it.
 
We said to her, she must be mistaken, it must have been someone else, but she was adamant.”
 
Rachel sighed.
 
“And I have to tell you, we were on our way to friends on Boxing Day, and we actually went via Grain Street.
 
And we saw them, trying to close the doors of a van outside the flats – she does live down there, doesn’t she? Ellie said she lived in Grain Street...
 
Anyway, I told Dave to stop, I had to be sure.
 
And it
was
Marie, I’ve seen her perform, it was unmistakeably her, they slammed the outside door of the building and she put something through the letter box, the key I suppose.
 
Then they got in the van and drove off.”

Fin was gasping for breath.

“I’m so, so sorry, Fin.
 
I was hoping to get to you first, so you wouldn’t go over there and find her gone, but I didn’t know when you were going to be back.
 
You didn’t pick up any of my voicemails.”

Christmas Eve.
 
With her parents, eh?
 
Except that she was at a student party, to which she obviously hadn’t wanted Fin to come.
 
Either because Fin didn’t fit, or maybe she had already been in contact with Sid, and had made her plans accordingly.
 
Fin closed her eyes, no longer weeping, but unable to speak.

“Well, I guess it wouldn’t have made it easier, however you found out.
 
Would you like me to sit with you tonight?”

Fin managed a smile.
 
Not much of one, but enough to tell Rachel how much the offer meant to her.
 
She shook her head.

“No.
 
No.
 
Can’t.”

“Then you’re coming over to us for the night.
 
I’ll give you some of my home-made soup – well, Dave made this batch, actually, but it’s still pretty good... oh, dear oh dear...”

Fin tried hard not to crack up again.

“You’re so lovely, Rachel.
 
I just need to be alone.
 
Can’t bear anybody, sorry, so sorry...”

“Tell you what, I’ll leave when I see you in your nightclothes and in bed.
 
I’ll get you some hot milk – have you got any milk?”

“No.”

Fin did as she was told, and Rachel brought her up the rest of her whisky in a mug, with hot water and honey in it, and watched her as she drank it.