Page 22

22

Lilah

Evil alice was at the front desk, so Lilah didn’t check out any books and gave her a wide berth as she left the library. Her paycheck for this month had come through into her otherwise-emptied bank account, so she had some income. She intended to call an Uber to get her to Richmond, but she had a lot to think about, so instead she walked westward along the high street.

It felt good to walk: glancing into shop windows, being among people who didn’t notice her or know any of her problems. It kept her body busy so her mind could travel. She hadn’t walked anywhere since that time at the bookshop when someone had followed her.

Some of the things she had just read had given her a different perspective on that event. Now, she wondered if maybe it had just been paranoia that had made her think she was being followed. Paranoia planted there by Zachary, masquerading as concern and love, but with the intent of trying to control her.

Her left hand felt light without the big engagement ring. Something about having it gone made her mind freer, too. Three days ago, she never would have said that Zachary was controlling. But one of the books she’d devoured in the library had been about coercive control. She’d picked it up off the shelf thinking that it would exonerate Zachary, give her some arguments to convince the other women that he wasn’t as bad as Opal said. She’d expected (or rather, desperately hoped for) a checklist in which exactly zero items matched the behavior of the man she’d fallen in love with.

But then she read about love bombing. And she thought about all the gifts, all the flattery, all the ways that Zachary had portrayed himself as being exactly the right person for her, all the ways he said he’d keep her safe, all the ways that he made her feel pretty and smart. All the times that she had thought to herself, with delight and no suspicion: He’s too good to be true .

That wasn’t unusual, though, surely? Novels said that was what love was: something precious and over-the-top, something to make you feel wonderful, something you could hardly believe was happening to you.

He’d said he wanted to protect her, and that was what she wanted. So she’d thought it was love when he rang and texted her dozens of times a day to check on her, so often that sometimes she couldn’t concentrate. When he chose all the restaurants they went to, the hotel she was staying at, when he said he would pay for everything so she wouldn’t have to worry, when he wouldn’t allow her to speak to the police without him, when he kept her from speaking with her father’s oldest friends at his funeral, when he steered her away from Jimiyu and her other library colleagues who’d come to support her, when he said she shouldn’t go back to work.

That was not protecting her. That was isolating her, and controlling her time, and restricting her finances, and keeping her afraid.

Meanwhile he’d been out with Marina and who knew who else, spending Lilah’s money and lying. And she had completely fallen for it: hiding in her luxury hotel, looking behind her, carrying pepper spray, watching everyone with suspicion.

Lilah stopped abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk. She’d gone to those elaborate lengths to avoid a stranger in a hat, someone who was probably minding his own business. She must have looked ridiculous.

She cringed.

And then she thought: Hold on a second. If I’m ashamed about this, if I’m afraid to confront it, he has won.

Lilah flagged down a cab and told the driver to take her to Charing Cross Road.

At Cuthbert & Binding, the same bookseller she’d embarrassed herself in front of was behind the register again. Lilah felt a stab of humiliation, but at the same time, the bookseller saw her, and his face lit up into a crooked smile that was actually rather lovely.

“Hi!” he said to her with a little awkward wave. “You came back!”

“I did,” she said, approaching the register. Maybe it was the beautiful soothing sight and scent of books, or maybe it was the bookseller’s greeting, or maybe it was her own determination, but her discomfort melted away. Well, most of it. “I have money this time.”

“I’ve got your books waiting for you. I was hoping you’d come back for them. Just a sec, I’ll be right back.” He hurried off through a door behind the till and Lilah had a chance to look around. Since she’d been here last time, many of the books had been taken off the shelves and heaped onto tables marked with large “SALE” signs. She browsed them, and in the short time before the bookseller returned, she’d picked out an illustrated history of London’s sewer system and a novel about circus geeks.

“Here they are,” said the bookseller, holding up her original stack, and then: “I think you’re going to need a tote bag. These ones are seventy-five percent off.” He nodded to a display of green canvas bags with the shop name emblazoned on them.

“You’re having a big sale.”

“Yeah. Stock liquidation.” He began scanning her books through again. “The landlord’s raised the rent four times in the past two years. I’ve got to look for a new job, or maybe finally finish my PhD.”

“Oh no! I mean—about the bookshop closing, not about the PhD. This was the first bookshop I ever visited when I was a little girl.”

He shook his head. “Profit margins are cut to the bone for independent booksellers. It’s hard to compete with supermarkets or online retailers, because they can slash prices. We do okay here, but the owners can’t keep up with the overhead. Anyway, I’m glad you came back in time.”

“Me too.” She put four tote bags on her pile. “Thank you for saving my books for me.”

“Absolutely, any time.”

Despite the sad news about the bookshop, and despite her heavy burden of books, she felt buoyant as she left the shop. Before hailing a taxi to get her to Marina’s house, she went into a nearby Tesco to pick up a few items that she realized, now, were necessary.

* * *

She arrived at Marina’s house at the same time that Opal ran up from the other direction. She had clearly been jogging because her skin was sheened lightly with perspiration, but she didn’t have a hair out of place and her lipstick was perfect. Lilah was pretty sure that if she got close enough to smell Opal, she wouldn’t smell of sweat but of some expensive skin lotion. She probably didn’t even need to use a filter on her social media pictures.

Marina had clearly been watching for them because she opened the door as soon as they set foot on the doorstep. Without consulting, they all went straight to the kitchen in the back of the house. The room was steamy, various pots and pans were in use, and there was a large mixing bowl on the table. There was also a terrible rattling noise.

“What’s that?” asked Opal.

Marina, who was wearing a white apron, picked up the bowl and started mixing vigorously, so hard that the muscles stood out on her forearms. “Aligot,” she replied, a little out of breath. “It’s a specialty of the Auvergne region—a mixture of mashed potatoes and Tomme fra?che, but that’s impossible to find here, so I’ve used mozzarella. I haven’t made it in years because my ex-husband said it was too fancy and he always wanted plain old shepherd’s pie. You have to rice the potatoes until they’re completely smooth, and then beat them until the mixture becomes stretchy.” She lifted up the spoon, to show them a long rubbery string of white. It looked disgusting but smelled delicious. “It’s absolutely full of carbs and saturated fats. It tastes gorgeous. Z will hate it.”

“Fancy thing to call cheesy potatoes,” said Opal. “I meant that terrible rattling noise.”

“Oh. That’s Godzilla. You don’t even notice him after a while.”

Lilah doubted that.

“That hamster has a death wish,” said Opal.

“I sort of like the company. He requires very little of me aside from a few seeds.” She moved to the chopping board and used a very large knife to attack some vegetables. “I think someone might be watching my house.”

“Did Zachary tell you that?” asked Lilah. “To make you paranoid?”

“No. He’s been asleep. I found evidence that someone was in one of the trees in the back of the house. There’s a tree house there. It could have been some neighborhood kids.”

Opal immediately pulled down the window shades and went out the back door.

“She’s not very tactful, is she?” Marina sighed. “How’s your day been? Do you want a cup of tea?”

“I’ve got a better idea.” Lilah put one of her tote bags on the table and pulled out one of the bottles of tequila she’d bought at Tesco. “Are you child-free tonight?”

Marina gravitated to the tequila like a moth to a flame. “Yes, they’re with my parents. I haven’t had a shot of tequila since I was at college. I’ve got limes in the fridge.”

“And salt,” said Lilah.

“And Nana Sylvia has a collection of shot glasses somewhere.”

When Opal came back in, the other two were busy arranging glasses and slicing limes. “There’s no sign of anyone in the tree, but let’s keep the blinds closed in case. Are we having a party?”

“We have had a traumatic couple of days,” said Lilah. “I thought we should get drunk.”

Opal looked Lilah up and down. Lilah steeled herself for Opal to say something mean. Finally, she said, “Good idea, Bunny.”

“Don’t call me Bunny, please,” said Lilah, bravely.

“Okay.” Opal pulled out a chair and cracked open one of the bottles.

It had been that easy?

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking today,” said Lilah. “And the thing is that we’re stuck in this situation together but we don’t know anything about each other, which is why we’re fighting. We have to stop fighting with each other and find some common ground. Other than Zachary.”

“At least we can get shitfaced, I’m sure that’s something we all agree on,” said Opal. She poured a hefty slosh of tequila into each glass. “I don’t usually drink because it gives me hot flushes. But fuck it.”

“What if Xavier wakes up though?” asked Marina, pausing with a lime wedge halfway to her mouth. “I don’t want to get drunk and fall down the stairs or something.”

“He won’t. I drugged him.” Opal licked the back of her hand and shook salt on it.

“You what?”

“I put a couple sleeping pills in a protein shake.”

Lilah put down her glass. “But that’s against the rules that we agreed on.”

“I know. But seriously, Marina has enough to worry about without being at Zander’s beck and call and making him fancy French mashed potatoes. I thought I’d give her a break. And also, the more he’s awake, the angrier he’s going to get. It’s better if he has a nice nap. Cheers.”

Lilah and Marina exchanged a look, and then downed their tequila shots, too.

“So, that’s the plan?” Opal reached for the bottle again. “Drink and bond, somehow? You’re going to have to explain this to me. I don’t hang out with women that much these days. Or people in general, actually.”

“I bought the tequila because I thought we could play Truth.”

“I thought it was Truth or Dare,” said Marina.

“I don’t like dares that much. But I think truth is really important.”

“Huh.” Opal poured them each another shot, and they all sat around the table. “What are we supposed to tell the truth about, specifically?”

“Well. We can start by saying one nice true thing about each other. But it has to be true.”

Opal grimaced. “I’m not good at nice.”

“Good idea,” said Marina. “Okay, I’ll start. Lilah, you have a really beautiful speaking voice. You could be on the radio. And Opal, you are very good at ordering people around.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“I meant it as one. I’m not even good at ordering my own children around.”

“This feels so fake,” said Opal. “Randomly giving other people compliments without wanting something off them.”

“The more you practice being kind to people, the easier it gets,” said Lilah. “That’s what my dad used to say, and he had to practice a lot because he was a mailman. Marina, I think you are stunning. You are the kind of person I always wanted to look like. You just seem so comfortable in your body, which is something I’ve never been able to be.”

“Really?” Marina sat up a little straighter. “I didn’t think I came across that way.”

“You do. I wish you would give me some fashion tips. Like how do you know how to wear a scarf like that?” She gestured at the green and pink patterned silk scarf that was holding up Marina’s hair.

“Oh, it just takes practice. You would look great in this one. Here, try.” Marina pulled off the scarf and put it around Lilah’s neck, tying it in a loose knot. “It really brings out the color of your eyes.”

“Thanks,” said Lilah. She took a deep breath and turned to Opal. “It is quite hard for me to say something nice about you because you have been mean to me. But I do actually appreciate that you have taken the trouble to tell Marina and me the truth about Zachary. You didn’t have to do that, and maybe we never would have found out until it was too late. So thank you.”

“Is it my turn now?” Opal pursed her lips. “I need to do another shot first.”

They fortified themselves with salt, tequila, and lime. Opal put her glass down with a bang.

“Okay. Here goes. Marina. I think you are probably a great mother. You seem to always think of your kids first. And you feel so guilty about pushing your boyfriend down the stairs that you bought them a fucking hamster. And Lilah...” She took a deep breath, as if this were difficult for her. “I am really quite envious of you.”

“Envious?”

“Yes. Because you talk about love so easily. And you seem to actually feel it, even after being betrayed. And when you talk about your dad, you—it’s as if he hung the moon for you. I’ve never felt like that about anyone. But you have, and that makes you very, very lucky. I would give anything to feel something so real and genuine, just once.”

Lilah blinked. “Wow. I wasn’t expecting...wow.”

“Yeah,” said Marina. “I sort of feel that my compliments were inadequate now.”

“Ah, well, apparently practice helps.” Opal reached for the bottle, and Marina brought the bowl of aligot to the table along with another of salad with a mustardy, garlicky dressing. She served them all a hefty pile of both. Lilah took a bite of the potato and had to sit for a moment in reverent silence. She had never imagined that mere cheesy potatoes could taste like this.

“This,” said Opal after a while, “is really fucking good.”

“I know,” said Marina.

Lilah took another forkful and in the middle of chewing it, she laughed, choked, swallowed, and laughed again. “I just realized: if this were a book, we’ve just passed the Bechdel test.”

“The what?”

“It’s a system for measuring representations of women in the media,” Opal told her. “A story passes the Bechdel test if it’s got two or more women, who are named in the story, and who talk to each other about something other than a man.”

“This is the first time we’ve actually talked about each other,” said Lilah. “We’ve been talking about Zachary.”

“Well,” said Opal, loading her fork with salad, “there’s a lot to be said about that bastard.”

“We have to talk about men,” said Marina. “They’re everywhere. It’s a man’s world. They make all the laws and commit all the crimes. Most of the crimes,” she amended. “If we don’t talk about them, we can’t work out how to live with them.”

“But we need to talk about ourselves too,” said Opal. “Otherwise, how do we know how to live with ourselves?”

It was the moment. Lilah put down her fork. Her throat was tight, but that was never going to change unless she did something about it. She picked up the tequila bottle, poured herself a shot and drank it down in one.

“I think I need to tell you a story about a man,” she said. “His name was Darren Pine.”