Page 19 of Sorry, Not Sorry

The club was heaving when Delilah walked in, with a queue two people deep pressed up around the bar.

The multicoloured strobe lights and thumping eighties disco music were an immediate turn-off and under normal circumstances, she would have walked straight out again.

But Armenique had chosen the venue, and Delilah was desperate to see her friend and catch up on the office gossip – most of which she suspected was about her – and frankly it was a relief to get out of her flat.

At the end of the day, even Kool & The Gang at full blast was better than another night in watching reality TV and property makeover shows.

She looked round the dimly lit bar, and spotting Armenique’s shiny silver headwrap, Delilah weaved her way through the crush to where her friend had snagged a table and was scrolling through her phone, her head bobbing in time to the music, and tapped her shoulder.

Armenique sprang up, hugging her so tightly that the huge silver star-shaped brooch pinned onto her clingy black one-shouldered jumpsuit almost took Delilah’s eye out.

‘ Girl , you look stunning!’ Delilah stepped back to eye Armenique’s outfit with a raised eyebrow. ‘You should have said we were dressing up!’ she said plaintively, gesturing towards her own black trousers and plain white crop top.

‘Ah babe! With those curves, you’re gorgeous whatever you wear.’ Armenique smiled. ‘Turn around – I’m loving the hair!’

Delilah obliged with a grin, shaking her head from side to side to show off her new shoulder-length twists.

‘Thanks. I needed a change.’ Bored to distraction and with nothing but time on her hands, she had spent half a day earlier that week undoing her long braids followed by a further two hours hanging around in the local salon waiting for her nimble-fingered hairdresser, Eunice, to style her hair.

Taking the empty chair at the table, Delilah looked up and wrinkled her nose at the multicoloured lights spinning across the ceiling in time to Donna Summer.

Armenique followed Delilah’s gaze and shuffled her chair forward. ‘I swear I had no idea they were doing an eighties night,’ she said apologetically. ‘I got this table cos it’s furthest away from the speakers, so at least we can hear ourselves. I’ve ordered us a bottle of Prosecco?—’

She broke off as a harried-looking waiter appeared with an ice bucket and two glasses. He twisted off the cork in one swift movement and filled the glasses, and as soon as he’d gone, Armenique raised a glass and clinked it against Delilah’s.

‘Cheers, Del! It’s so good to see you. I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed not having you at work.’

‘I’ve missed you more! Trust me, I’d give anything to be back.

’ Delilah took a long sip of the chilled wine and leaned back happily in her chair.

After Farhan had finally succumbed to the flu, she had been avoiding Salome’s house all week, and it was great to spend time with Armenique, who had grown into a dear friend.

Tonight was exactly what Delilah needed after days of near isolation and nights punctuated with disturbing dreams about Noah and waking up in a cold sweat, drenched in vivid memories of the past.

The music changed, and Delilah put down her glass and leaned forward to make herself heard above Rick Astley.

‘How’s everything at the office?’

Armenique grinned wickedly and arched her perfectly shaped eyebrows, clearly unconvinced by Delilah’s attempt to sound casual. ‘I think you mean how’s Polly and what’s she said about you coming back?’

Delilah pulled a face and braced herself. ‘So, what has she told everyone about why I’m not at work?’

Armenique sipped her wine and waved an airy hand. ‘There’s nothing to stress about, Del. You know Polly’s discreet. She sent out an email to everyone saying you were on a leave of absence, and that she’ll be handling your client list until you get back.’

Delilah tossed back the rest of the wine in her glass, relieved her reputation was still intact but also frustrated that Polly’s communique gave no clues about how long Delilah was suspended. ‘Yeah, well I wish her luck with the Hendersons. Who knows – maybe she’ll be able to get through to Brian!’

Grabbing the bottle from the ice bucket, she refilled their glasses while singing along as Gloria Gaynor belted out ‘I Will Survive’.

Already lightheaded from the first glass, she pushed caution aside and swallowed a large gulp of Prosecco.

There was nothing she could do about her job situation and tonight was the first time she’d been out in ages. Forget about Polly and enjoy yourself!

Armenique echoed her thoughts. ‘Let’s not talk about the office. What I really want to hear about is how your apologies are going!’

Delilah had spilled the beans about Salome’s infamous list in an unguarded moment over lunch.

Having to revisit the awkward encounters with her former boyfriends wasn’t top on her list of preferred conversations, but knowing Armenique would prise the details out of her one way or another, Delilah filled her in while they worked their way through the rest of the bottle – and ordered a second.

‘Good for you, Del. God, you’re so brave!

’ Armenique exclaimed. ‘There’s no way I’d have the guts to confront my exes.

Ugh, you must have felt so vulnerable, not knowing how they were going to react.

But I do think your sister’s right. When Polly hears you’ve taken her advice to heart, I bet it makes all the difference. ’

The waiter arrived with another bottle of Prosecco and when he’d refilled their glasses, Armenique took a sip of her drink and smacked her lips loudly before eyeing Delilah curiously. ‘So who’s next, then?’

‘Please don’t remind me. I’m breaking into a cold sweat just thinking about him,’ Delilah said heavily. She put down her glass and sighed. ‘Salome’s only gone and put Carl on the list.’

‘Carl… Wait! Isn’t that the guy you were seeing when we first started the course? But that’s ludicrous!’

Delilah nodded with a pained smile and picked up her glass again.

The alcohol was rapidly numbing her brain, but it was going to take more than two bottles of Prosecco to blot out her time with Carl.

She’d kept his number in her list of phone contacts, but only so she’d know not to answer if he ever tried to call.

‘It was Carl who—?’ Armenique started, and Delilah cut in emphatically before she could finish.

‘Yep.’

‘Jeez! He was such an arse – no offence. I remember how he’d crack these really bad jokes and then laugh like a drain. He was okay looking, but definitely not boyfriend material. What on earth did you see in him?’ Armenique asked bluntly.

Delilah screwed her face up in bewilderment and held up her palms. ‘I wish I knew! I met him long before I started the counselling course. He used to come into the café for a cup of tea and a chat when I was still waitressing. I’d just finished a relationship and was going through a bit of a bad patch, so I suppose having someone to banter and have a bit of a flirt with took my mind off things.

He took it way more seriously than me, and if I’m honest, we only lasted so long because he worked on a cruise ship and only flew back for the odd weekend.

By the time I started the course, he’d finally clocked that I wasn’t into him, which was when?—’

‘—he started sending you flowers at college every day. I still remember those rambling poems and love letters he’d send with words he’d cut out of magazines. God, that was so creepy! No wonder you cut him loose.’ Armenique shuddered. ‘What was your sister thinking putting him on the list?’

‘She says it’s because technically we lasted longer than six months and that ghosting him when he was desperately in love with me wasn’t “compassionate” – which is bollocks because Carl deserved to be dumped and I’m not sorry at all!’

Delilah frowned into her wine glass while her foot tapped along to Cyndi Lauper shrieking ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’. Salome was seriously out of order for making her contact a man who’d already proved he couldn’t take no for an answer.

Another hour and three more glasses of Prosecco later, the world looked a lot rosier.

The small dance floor was packed with people boogieing to popular eighties disco tracks and Delilah, merry from the booze and flushed from singing along with the crowd, was feeling on top of the world.

So much so that when an equally sozzled Armenique suggested they call Carl so Delilah could stop stressing and take him off the list, any resistance on her part quickly slipped away.

‘If you don’t want to speak to him, just send him a text,’ Armenique urged, trying not to slur her words. ‘Go on! Do it now before you bottle it again.’

‘Okay, okay !’ Delilah giggled. ‘But what if he?—’

‘You’ll never know if you don’t try,’ Armenique said, speaking slowly and deliberately, and wagging a finger in Delilah’s direction. ‘Right, let’s go. First off, knock back the rest of that glass.’

Delilah dutifully obliged, and Armenique instructed, ‘Now, take out your phone.’

Delilah pulled her phone from her bag and frowned dubiously at the screen. ‘Hold on, isn’t there a law against drinking and texting?’

‘Don’t worry, girl. I’ve got you.’

Hi Carl, it’s me, Delilah. I need to talk to you.

She typed the words and glanced up at Armenique, who nodded reassuringly. Drawing in a sharp breath, Delilah pressed send, immediately dropping the phone on the table as if she’d been burned.

They stared intently at the phone and less than a minute later, it pinged with a text.

Why, what do you want?

Delilah picked up the handset as gingerly as if she was handling a rabid dog and tried to focus on the words. She thought for a moment through a haze of alcohol and then typed.

Can we meet?

I’d rather not.

Taken aback by the abrupt response, Delilah’s hackles immediately rose.

After everything Carl had put her through, the least he could do was consider her incredibly polite request. Feeling no more prepared to take no for an answer than Carl had been two years earlier, she jabbed out another message.

Why not? I just want a few minutes of your time. That’s all.

No! I’m working through healing myself and SETTING BOUNDARIES!

You know your trouble, don’t you? Women like you say you want a man who can open up and share his feelings and then when he does, it’s TOO MUCH for you!

! I spent a fortune on flowers, and it took me ages to make you those letters!

I literally poured my heart and soul out to you.

For what?? For you to block my calls and just disappear. No explanation??? No NOTHING???

Jolted, Delilah read Carl’s furious message twice, the high from the Prosecco slowly seeping away like air from a deflating balloon. Was there anyone she hadn’t messed up? Too much alcohol combined with the vitriolic text brought sudden tears to her eyes.

Armenique leaned over and gently prised the phone out of Delilah’s hand, her lips forming a silent ‘wow’ as she read the message.

‘Not much sign of any healing going on there.’ She looked up at Delilah with raised eyebrows.

‘What should I say?’ Delilah pleaded, and Armenique shrugged and handed back the phone.

‘Just say sorry and cut your losses, Del. You can’t win them all.’

But Delilah was too weighed down with guilt to leave it. She might not be able to force Carl to meet her in person, but she could tell him what he clearly still needed to know. Before her friend could stop her, Delilah tapped furiously on the phone keypad.

I’m truly sorry. Please believe me. It was incredibly immature of me to behave that way, and you didn’t deserve it. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but as part of your healing maybe you should at least consider if you can?

She waited with bated breath. Then:

If I say I forgive you, do you promise never to contact me again?

She hesitated, and then quickly typed:

Yes

While ‘Don’t Leave Me This Way’ played loudly in the background, Delilah watched the three dots that showed Carl was still typing move around for what felt like forever. Finally, a message landed.

I forgive you.