The Orchid Girls Page 6

  I run my arm under the cold tap and think about Grace not turning up. I haven’t decided how to make her pay yet. But I will.

  The phone rings and rings and rings. Stops. Starts again. It’s eleven when I wake up to four missed calls. For a second I think it might be Grace, then I remember I was supposed to work this morning. Shit.

  Sitting up makes me retch. Breakfast is probably a good idea, but when I open the fridge all that’s on the shelf is a carton of yellow milk and an ancient tub of margarine. A glass of water will have to do.

  I write a list for the day: BUY FOOD and DON’T DRINK are my two items. The first is possible, the second doubtful.

  Tom from work has left a message and I call him back. He doesn’t waste time on small talk.

  ‘What happened to you this morning?’

  ‘Usual. I overslept.’

  ‘Out on the town again?’

  I wish. ‘Something like that.’

  ‘Gavin’s not impressed. You’re on a warning already.’

  ‘Put in a good word for me, will you?’

  He says he will but we both know Gavin is waiting for an excuse to get rid of me.

  ‘I’ll call you later. And Molly, try and sort yourself out.’

  A pile of leaflets catches my eye. AA, the local counselling centre, freebies from the doctor. I’ve had them for ages, but something is different now. I’ve got to get a grip on myself, otherwise I’ll end up back with Jodie. And Grace will like me better if I’m more in control of myself, like I used to be.

  A memory hits me, Grace in the sea, swimming in a lazy circle while I watch her, hot sun on my shoulders, sky so blue it dazzles, happy in that moment, just me and Grace with her hair flashing gold in the sun. She challenges me to a race to the rocks and I set off at a disadvantage, just behind her all the way, pumping my arms so hard my chest feels as if it will burst. Concentrating only on the rocks in the distance. Last time I beat her, but she’s determined today, half a width ahead now, water splashing and there’s no catching her. Suddenly she cries out and disappears under the water. ‘Cramp, help me, Molly.’

  Panic spurs me through the waves towards Grace. I grip my arms around her chest, pulling her towards me, feeling her heart beating fast against mine, realising just how much she meant to me.

  ‘I knew you’d save me, Molly,’ she says later.

  I knew then I’d always be there for her.

  There’s half a can of beer left over from last night and I hesitate before knocking it back, hoping it will ease the dancing feet in my stomach. It gives me the courage to make the call. I speak to the counsellor, words falling out of my mouth about last night, about my life, about the mess I’m in. More words than I’ve said in ages, all to a woman on the phone, a stranger who has a soft northern voice and sounds like she cares. She tells me her name is Ellis. She’s based in the local counselling centre round the corner. And she’s coming round.

  I get a black plastic bin bag and clear the table, sweeping the beer cans into it, tipping the contents of the ashtray into the mix and taking the lot downstairs. Afterwards I run across the road to Abdul’s shop to buy milk and a jar of coffee, in case Ellis wants some. Abdul doesn’t say anything as he’s on the phone but his eyebrows twitch when I don’t buy the usual quarter of vodka, or beer on special. Mrs Bird is sitting by the window with a cup of tea, aching to know what’s going on, but it makes me feel like I’m being spied on. She waves and I force a smile before letting the front door close behind me, flinching as it slams.

  Mrs Bird isn’t the only one looking out of the window when Ellis arrives. I’ve been pacing up and down, watching the street, ever since I got back from the shop. A tall woman with cropped blonde hair and a large leather bag slung over her shoulder slows and checks door numbers as she walks down the road. The next thing I know she lopes down the path greyhound-style and the bell is ringing in my flat.

  Ellis is northern and smiley and would love a coffee, but somehow she’s making it herself.

  ‘You’re not expecting guests for dinner tonight then,’ she says in her broad Manchester accent, putting the milk back into the empty fridge, but she’s grinning.

  ‘You’re lucky to get coffee. Milk is a bonus, trust me.’

  I collapse onto the sofa, suddenly exhausted. I’ve never opened up to anyone before in the way I spoke to Ellis on the phone, and now she’s here in front of me I feel hot and my hair sticks to my face. But I mustn’t say too much. Some things I must keep to myself. Once she’s found the mugs, which isn’t hard as there’s nothing much in my cupboards, she’s sitting across from me, perched on the edge of my armchair right on the red wine stain from the time I threw a glass at Jodie.

  I clutch my mug of coffee close to me and listen as Ellis tells me her story; a rehab clinic four times, then a couple of detoxes.

  Her face tightens when she talks about how she left home.

  ‘Dad caught me searching through Mum’s purse. She’d just been to the bank and drawn a large amount of cash out, to pay for my brother’s school trip. I went mad when he tried to stop me, desperate for drugs, I was.’ She shakes her head at the memory. ‘Out of control. Mum tried to stop Dad kicking me out, but he wasn’t having any of it. Said he couldn’t bear to look at me any more. I spent a few nights on the streets before I managed to get a hostel place. It was rough, Molly, believe me, the crowd I ended up with. I’ve spent more nights in police cells than I can remember.’

  But Ellis doesn’t resemble the person she is telling me about. She holds herself like someone who matters, and her voice is clear, confident and caring. Straight away I feel like I get her. It doesn’t happen to me often, when you first meet another person and you click. Just like that. Like me and Grace. I try to push thoughts of Grace aside.

  ‘You’re not what I expected. I don’t want to waste your time.’

  ‘Was it my stripy Dr Who scarf that put you off? I made it myself, you know.’ Her wide grin almost makes me smile. ‘Something compelled you to call. That’s as good a reason as any.’

  I stand up and wander over to the window. A dog has been tied to the tree outside Abdul’s shop and it’s straining against its lead. Why did I make that phone call? Memories crowd my head and I recall the shame, the row with Jodie, missing another shift, turning up drunk at Grace’s do. Grace.

  Before Ellis leaves she puts her phone number into my mobile and makes me promise to stay in touch. I watch her pull up her collar against the wind as she sets off down the street, waiting until she turns the corner. The ring pull clicks as I crack the can open.

  Charlotte’s Diary

  Friday 26th July 2002

  Belinda’s gone but she’s promised she’ll ring me as soon as she gets to Torremolinos. She wants me to keep an eye on Harry cos Melanie’s been hanging around him a lot. Today I went down to the beach on my own and I was reading a magazine and keeping an eye on Jason when he started talking to this blonde girl. I went straight over cos she was blonde and gorgeous and I didn’t like the way Jason was looking at her. She doesn’t go to my school – she must be from the posh school on the hill. He introduced me and I swear she looked me up and down. I don’t care cos I know I look good in my leopard-print bikini. She was wearing a long T-shirt over shorts, hair loose and shiny. I bought a Pepsi and sipped it at the counter until she got the hint. I asked Jason who she was and I couldn’t believe it when he said she’s a mate of Molly Conway’s. Grace, her name is. Stupid religious name. He said his mum knows Molly’s mum and Grace often stays with them in the holidays. Sure enough I watched Grace as she laid out on a stripy towel and a bit later Molly came to join her too. Molly had shorts on and she’s so pale the red scar on her arm stands out. Oh my God, when I saw that it made me wonder if that was there because of us and I wish I hadn’t seen it. Remembering what we used to do to her makes me feel bad all over again.

  Monday 29th July 2002

  No word from Belinda. This summer is turning out to be shit. Yesterday I bumped in
to Jason in the burger bar. I was so excited until he asked me to come and join ‘us’ and when I saw who he was with it was too late to say no – Molly and Grace. It’s so awkward with Molly. I wonder if she’s told Grace about me. Molly was eating an ice cream and it dripped on her leg and she saw me looking at her. Back at school her neck would have gone red like it did every time she saw me and Belinda coming towards her. But today she just stared at me again and it proper freaked me out.

  It was Belinda’s idea to have a bit of fun with her back then. That’s all it was. Don’t know why I keep going on about it. So we were in the cafe and I ignored psycho Molly and chatted to Grace and she’s actually not bad. She was telling us about her dad who’s a vicar and spends his life trying to make her be a good Christian. And I was right, she goes to the church school, which is why I’ve never seen her hanging around town. I’ve been so fed up without Belinda and I was laughing for the first time in ages. And if we made friends and she knew how I felt about Jason then maybe she could help get us together. So I chatted back and Molly scowled. I told her my mate was away and she said I should come to the beach with them!! Turns out she can swim but she doesn’t like getting her hair wet – another thing we have in common! It takes me ages to get ready for the beach, no way I’m getting into that dirty water. Grace said she gets bored cos Molly’s always in the sea. Molly can’t have told her about me. Shame she has to be there, but we can get to know each other while Molly is swimming. Molly will hate that, though. Oh well.

  Seven

  GRACE

  My fingers run along the red silk of the dress, spilled out on the bed like a bloodstain. The first present Richard bought me for Valentine’s. It fit perfectly, showed off my curves, seemed to generate electricity between us. I want to glow at Richard’s side tonight as his team celebrate his campaign so far. Polls have picked up, and it’s a real possibility that he could become the Mayor of London. Red is the colour I choose when I’m at my most confident, but today cold fingers pluck at my nerves and I can’t settle. My eyes flicker along with the minute hand of the clock which counts down the remaining two hours until I am due to step into the car which will be collecting me.

  Sounds emanate from the bathroom; Richard’s voice is loud and off-key as he sings. This would usually make me smile but today it puts me on edge. Not meeting Molly seemed like a good idea at the time but now I’m not sure. It’s made me feel even more anxious.

  The whoosh of the water subsides and silence envelops me, making my thoughts sound louder. I pull my bath wrap tight around my waist and go in search of a glass of water. Back in the bedroom Richard is pulling his boxers on, a fresh lemon smell from his shower lingering in the air.

  ‘Great outfit,’ he says, as I slip into the red dress. ‘Are you looking forward to this evening?’

  ‘Do you need to ask?’ I love that Richard is doing so well. He deserves it. ‘Are you nervous?’

  ‘Me? Never.’ He sits down on the bed beside me, doing up the buttons of his crisp shirt and runs his fingers through his half-damp hair. ‘It means a lot to me, you being there, Grace. You know how important tonight is.’

  How could I not – he’s been going on about nothing else for weeks. Apparently this speech is the most important of the campaign. All I have to do is be there.

  ‘It’s not going to take long. Once the speech is out of the way we’ll be able to relax over dinner, apart from the odd bit of networking, of course. Lucky we’re both so good at it.’

  The word ‘network’ jolts in my head and I feel responsibility pressing down on me. My reputation must remain untarnished. We both want this so much. What am I thinking of, letting Molly get to me? It was no lie that I’m looking forward to this evening, and Molly doesn’t belong in our world. The best thing to do is tell Richard, make light of it, laugh it off with him. Once this is over maybe he’ll decide the time is right for a baby… I almost convince myself. Richard snaps his cufflinks into place.

  ‘Take your time getting ready. I’m going ahead to go over my speech, but you don’t need to be there until eight, that’s when the presentation is. We’ll go in together. I’ll pour you a drink, then you can chill for a bit.’ I imagine the scene in my head, the two of us hand in hand, posing for the camera. If only Mum were there to see this version of me, the successful daughter she never got to meet. Sadness stings my eyes. My arm itches, as it often does, and I rub the raised skin where the tattoo once was. Thank God I got rid of it.

  When I’m ready, I join Richard downstairs where the television is on, loudly documenting the story of the missing girl. It’s still dominating the headlines, and it’s the last thing I want to hear about. It’s bad enough Molly reminding me of the past, without this too.

  ‘Wouldn’t you rather have music on?’ I ask, sipping the white wine spritzer Richard has poured for me.

  He jumps and I realise he hasn’t heard me come down the stairs. The remote is in his hand but he makes no move to quieten the sound. ‘I want to hear what they say about this evening.’

  He’ll be lucky. The only story on the news is Emily. Everywhere I look there is something to remind me. I shake the liquid in the glass, not wanting to drink it, unable to settle. Richard has never seen my anxious side. The facade I normally have in place is cracking. I wish I could confide in someone – I can talk to Carrie about the baby stuff, about Richard, but with this I’m on my own.

  Richard’s phone pings. ‘My driver is here,’ he says. ‘You’re in a funny mood, Grace. Better not drink any more, OK? We want to create the best impression.’

  I’m annoyed he’s picked up that something is wrong. This evening is so important. I can be better than this.

  Once he’s gone I step outside, longing for a cigarette. I haven’t smoked in years but the craving has been growing in me ever since Molly returned. Outside, the water is dark and the banks are still; boats are cloaked in darkness as if everyone is out tonight, waiting for Richard’s speech. The shrill sound of the landline ringing brings me back inside but by the time I reach the handset the caller has rung off. Only Richard’s parents ever use the landline – it’s probably his mum wanting to wish him luck, or his dad reminding him where he stands in the polls. I press to play the message back. The line crackles and then Molly’s voice fills the room. I freeze.

  ‘You didn’t turn up. Big mistake, Grace. But I’ve got something you won’t want your husband to see. So unless you want me to show him, you’d better talk to me.’

  My knees buckle. Fear rattles through me and a trickle of sweat runs down my back because I know exactly what she means. My dress clings and I rush upstairs and cool myself down with cold water, holding my arms around myself, trying to keep calm. How did she get this number? Downstairs the phone trills again injecting another shot of panic into me. This can’t be happening, not now. Why did I think not turning up was going to keep her away? How could I be so stupid?

  There is an hour to go until the car comes. I pace up and down the bedroom, trying to work out what to do. I’ve got to stop Molly contacting me. One phone call, a few firm words, that should do it.

  My fingers feel clumsy and I misdial, making three attempts before I hit the right buttons. I drink some of my spritzer to steady my nerves as the phone rings and rings. What’s taking her so long? I’ve almost given up and I’ve downed half the glass. But then I hear Molly. Her voice is loud, her words slurred. I hold the phone away from my ear.

  ‘You’ve got to stop ringing me. I want to leave the past behind, Molly, and I’m sorry if that hurts you, but that’s the way it has to be.’

  ‘Too important now, are you?’

  She lashes out in such a familiar way: it’s like stepping back in time. But I won’t let her hurt me now. I’m not that version of Grace any more. I have to make her stay away. I have to.

  My heart starts to thud and I drop onto the sofa, closing my eyes. ‘Molly, please, let’s not do this.’

  ‘I’m coming over.’

  I hear a
clatter and then the phone buzzes like a mosquito in my ear.

  The stainless-steel clock indicates there are forty-five minutes to wait until the car arrives. Powerlessness sweeps over me; the cars are always booked through Richard’s campaign office and there is nothing I can do about it, apart from make sure I’m ready and pray that the car will arrive before Molly does – if indeed she’s coming. She’s obviously been drinking again, doesn’t know what she’s doing. Hopefully she’s forgotten already. But the thought doesn’t reassure me. Outside it’s dark and a light drizzle falls on the pavement; a plastic bag darts along the bank as if searching for a means of escape.

  The face in the mirror doesn’t look like me. My make-up is immaculate, every accessory is coordinated, from my bag to my tights. But my face is all wrong. My mood plays havoc with my body language, making my shoulders stiff and tense. I sit down on the sofa with another half-glass of wine. I don’t want to overdo it before I get to the function, but my mind is whirling and the alcohol might ease it a little. No matter how hard I try to control my breathing or push thoughts of Molly away, images dance in front of my eyes, pictures flashing back at me, as I try to deny knowledge of them even to myself.

  The doorbell cuts into my daydream and I know it’s her. The driver who comes with the car always texts to let me know he’s here. I jump to my feet and pace up and down, unsure what to do. There’s no way I can get out without going past Molly. The bell rings again now, and again, and again. She’s got her finger on it like a drill boring into my head and I put my hands over my ears like a cartoon character. My mobile is on the table and I snatch it up in panic. I could call the driver and tell him there’s a stranger at the door harassing me, but who knows what state Molly is in, and what she would say. I can’t risk it.