The Art of Keeping Faith (27 page)

17th January

9.00 p.m.

I have been crying for four hours straight. Four hours, that is a vast quantity of tears. I don’t even know how my body is producing the watery rivets anymore but it is nonetheless. Every time I think I have it under control and I can maybe venture from the safety of my room and you know, like talk to people, I get hit by another tidal wave of drowning tears.

Gladiator Day

After our boring morning lecture we had a video room reserved in the library so some of us from History on Screen could watch the first film on the syllabus together.

What a mistake.

The film was Gladiator.

The one film in the entire history of film making that I have always for some strange reason refused to watch, no matter who has asked or begged me to sit through the ordeal of watching it with them.

I have no idea why, but Russell Crowe in a leather skirt does nothing for me and neither does the idea of men pitting themselves against each other in a fight to the death.

It’s a mystery?

Well. Now I know that I was right not to watch it. I didn’t want to yesterday; I tried to get out of it. To the point that I even pretended my period pain was far worse than it really was, just so I could leave. But no, my friends saw through that one, gave me some paracetamol and made me sit down.

“Come on, Lilah. You know Pilchard is just going to make you watch it anyway. Better with us than with him,” Richard assured me and pulled me down on to one of the low seats next to him.

“It’s just a movie, Lilah. I don’t know what all the fuss is about,” smirked Barbie. Yes that’s right, I also had to be locked up in a very small space with Barbie stinking the room out with her Popstar perfume for two hours—that is my idea of hell.

Well, at least I thought it was. But now I know my own personal hell is being trapped in a small room with Barbie for two hours, and being made to watch a movie so bloody emotionally draining that I literally had to be escorted from the library afterwards with me just muttering the words, “I can’t believe he died. I can’t believe he died.” Closely followed by, “She was waiting for him. She was waiting for him.”

I came home, crawled under my duvet and I haven’t stopped crying since.

So that’s embarrassing. Dancing and falling over drunk on campus is one thing. Hysterical crying in the library is another thing entirely.

18th January

At work. Still sniffling. Can’t think about anything to do with that movie.

Two Hours later

“Have you finished?” asks Baz.

“Yes. Can I have another Bud?”

“You’ve drunk them all.”

“Shit.”

“So anyway, removing ourselves from the Lilah McCannon rollercoaster of emotional trauma for one moment, have you heard the new Sound Box single?”

“What? No! Heard it where?”

“Uh, on the radio. It’s getting some serious airplay. It was on Radio One yesterday.”

“Really? Radio One only plays trendy music that hip, happening people listen to. Are you sure you didn’t get it confused with Radio Two or Four maybe?”

“Definitely One.”

“Oh, my God!”

“Oh, my God, indeed.”

I am bouncing, all tears forgotten about. My boyfriend has music on Radio One.

This beats buying his CD in Asda.

“Put it on, put it on, let’s listen for Ben.” Screeching, I dive for the radio.

“You’re not going to make me listen to that shit all day just on the off chance they play it are you?”

“Hell, yes.”

“Okay, but we’re going to need more beer.”

8.00 p.m.

Three times, that is how many times I have heard Ben’s song on the radio today! Once on Radio On; Once on Absolute; And once on Heart. I got a bit fed up at this point because the female DJ with the sexy breathy voice went on and on about how hot Ben is. I know this, but I don’t need it being broadcast on national radio.

My boyfriend is famous. Like songs on the radio famous.

I need to celebrate. I need to call him to congratulate him, I need to do all the above and in no particular order.

Although I may have celebrated enough with Baz and the Buds.

NAH! You can never celebrate your boyfriend being famous enough!

19th January

The impromptu Sound Box party may have been a celebration too far. I have just walked into the lounge and found Jayne face down on the wood-flooring. I have no idea where Beth is, but I am sure she was here as well.

The kitchen looks like a bomb has exploded at an off-license. There are beer cans and various empty wine bottles everywhere. There are also five empty cigarette cartons on the patio, so either there was another smoker here or I have more of a problem than I knew.

Beth is asleep in the bathtub.

“What on earth are you doing?” I ask, giving her a stiff poke to make sure she is still breathing.

I would leave her but I am desperate for a pee.

“Why did you not sleep on the couch?” I add, whilst hopping about. I really need that pee.

“Jayne,” she starts, but I know where she is heading. They must have had another row, which I am beginning to believe might be verging on lover’s tiff’s.

“You could have crashed with me.”

She opens one eye and then winces.

“Ah thanks, Lil. This is really uncomfortable.” And with that she is up out of the bath and trooping to my bedroom.

Three Hours Later

The phone is ringing. It must be my mum; it is way too early to be Ben. Choosing to ignore it, I have a good old stretch instead as the phone continues to ring.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Turning I grab the phone.

“What?!” I shout down the receiver.

“Lilah? Are you okay?”

Oh, God. It’s Ben. I haven’t even spoken to him to congratulate him on being super famous yet. I just got drunk instead.

“Hey, Ben,” I wince. Bloody hell my head hurts.

“Is this a bad time?” Ben’s voice is a notch tighter.

“Sorry, I was asleep. We had a bit of a big one last night.”

Ben chuckles and I hear him relaxing. “I know. I take it you don’t remember leaving me a voicemail recording of you and Meredith singing the new single.”

Shit.

“Sorry. I guess you didn’t need me assaulting your ear drums like that.”

“It was the best greeting I’ve had coming off stage in ages.” Ben chuckles as I snuggle down under the duvet some more.

“I am so proud of you,” I tell Ben. This may be the understatement of the year.

“I know you are. You told me in about fifty text messages yesterday.”

Ooh, that’s going to sting.

“Well, just so long as you know.”

“I know. So how was Gladiator?”

“No, no Ben. Don’t!!”

He chuckles some more.

“Was it the grass at the end?”

And just like that I start to cry all over again.

Goddamn it.

“I-t w-a-s s-o-o s-a-a-a-d,” I grizzle into the phone.

“I know, my love, it is sad,” he murmurs low in my ear, but then he ruins it by bursting out laughing.

“Arse,” I tell him.

“Will you two shut the fuck up?” says a voice next to me.

I give a start. “Fucking hell, Beth, you just scared the shit out of me,” I exclaim. Ben starts to laugh even more.

“I could be jealous,” he teases down the phone.

I give my friend a once over and report back my findings. “I wouldn’t, she has make up all over her face and looks like she has been dragged through a hedge.”

“And you are as pretty as a picture yourself,” she retorts pulling the duvet up over her head.

21st January

“So what is the first thing you do when getting in a car?”

Meredith gives me an ‘are you for real look’ from the driver’s seat.

It is freezing cold and we are scrunched up in Deathtrap Cooper for Meredith’s first driving lesson.

How I got myself talked into this the Lord only knows.

“Uh, start the car?”

“Nope.”

“Check my mirrors?”

“Nope.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Lilah. I don’t bloody know,” Meredith exclaims with clear frustration.

“You must always do your seatbelt up before you even start the engine,” I inform her with my many years of deeply skilled driving knowledge.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Okay.”

She does up her seatbelt pronto. “Now what?”

“Now I am going to talk you around the different levers and controls.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“This is a very serious task you are undertaking.” I use my most serious voice to match the gravity of the situation.

“Lilah, it is a frigging car park. We are not even on the road.”

“Same rules.”

“Whatever,” she mumbles under her breath.

“I heard that, young lady.”

One Hour Later

Oh, my God. I am my father. I am a Nazi of a driving instructor.

Meredith may never talk to me again. I made her cry. Badly.

She told me she never wanted to get in a car with me again, even to get a lift to campus.

I told her she would be getting lifts for the rest of her life because she was the single worse driver I had ever come across.

24th January

Ben Sodding Hur

I will never ever be able to get back the three hours I have wasted today watching Ben bloody Hur. I don’t care if it is a classic, I don’t even care if it won five million Oscars.

It was three hours of uncomfortable backache and a very uncomfortable atmosphere.

Meredith is still not talking to me. It’s been days but I have not been forgiven for calling her an appalling driver. I even offered to take her out after class yesterday but she just ignored me.

I think Tristan is enjoying our little spat because that way he gets Meredith all to himself. Normally she splits her time equally between girly time in my room and the lounge with him, otherwise known as boring time. I have been very bored by myself all week.

I wonder when she is going to forgive me.

Beth will help, I am sure. I will see what she is up to.

11.55 p.m.

Beth won’t help at all. She will just convince me to go to Froebel, where we both throw our names away dancing in the middle of the bar before the DJ has even started.

“I don’t know why you are asking me anyway?” she questions when we have paused from our gyrating so I can have a power smoke outside in the frigid night air.

“Well, you row with Jayne.”

“Yeah, because I fancy her and it is really annoying. You don’t fancy Meredith do you?”

“Uh, yuck! No!”

“Thank you, Delilah.”

“Sorry, you know what I mean.”

“You know I think what you and Ben do is equally gross.”

For a moment I lose myself remembering just what it is that Ben and I do.

Damnit! I miss that man!

“Lilah? Lilah? Hellooo??”

“Sorry, I got side-tracked.”

“Yeah, I see that. Right. Are we going home so you can make up with your best friend or are we going to dance and drink some more?”

“Drink more.”

It was a silly question anyway.

25th January

“Two things.”

Meredith has stropped into the shop and slammed her bag down on the counter waking both Baz and I up.

Baz looks between the two of us and then mumbles something under his breath before walking into the back area.

“Only two?” I say.

It’s fair to say I am not very mature at confrontations; in fact a five-year-old is possibly more adult.

“Actually three.”

Figured.

“Go on, then.” We are glaring at each other which I don’t think we have ever done in the year and a half we have been besties.

“Firstly, you owe me an apology. I am not a terrible driver. I would have been much better if I was not out with a neurotic, crazy woman who shouted at me all the time.”

I purse my lips.

Oh what’s there to lose? “I am very sorry Meredith I was horrible to you. It’s a genetic flaw I am inflicted with and I promise not to do it again should you decide to have another lesson with me.”

Her green eyes scan my face for any sign of sarcasm or humour. “Okay, forgiven, I reckon you are still a better option than Tristan.”

“Well so long as I am better than Tristan that’s okay.”

It’s impossible for me not to be sarcastic.

Her eyes narrow in suspicion before she clearly decides to shake it off.

I soon realise why. She has gossip and needs to share it. “Did you know that Beth and Jayne have snogged?”

“Um, yeah, why? Who told you?”

“Jayne. Who told you?”

“Beth.”

“Oh.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway,” she hesitates. Obviously there is something bigger than this to tell. “A removal van turned up this morning and the people upstairs have started moving out.”

“I didn’t know there was anyone upstairs.”

“Me neither,” she shrugs.