Page 35 of The Girlfriend

As she stepped out of the cab, she knew it had been a good idea.

The sun was so sweet and she saw something she hadn’t seen in weeks: shadows on the pavement.

It had been so long, they seemed slightly strange to the eye, a novelty.

It lifted her spirits, which had been frozen in gloom for several months.

The ITV meeting had been good; Alison and Sean had read the script of the crime drama and liked it.

In fact, they were as committed to the project as ever and were keen to see the next draft as soon as possible.

Assuming the writer went away and satisfactorily wrote in all the notes that had been discussed today, Laura felt she might get a green light .

The sun and fresh air were helping, but Laura’s headache still hung around, threatening to erupt into a migraine.

She’d never had one before Daniel’s accident, but could now claim at least one a month.

She dug into her bag for the tablets she always carried around, but found the packet empty.

Knowing the migraine, if it came, would be debilitating, she stopped at a pharmacy and went in to buy some.

She waited in line at the counter, concentrating on the shelves behind the assistant until she found what she was looking for.

Then it was her turn. The girl in front of her turned around. It was Cherry.

Laura hadn’t seen her for months, so it was a shock, even more so because of how she looked.

She’d lost weight, but she was also pale, with purple shadows under her eyes.

The glow that Laura had noticed the first time she’d seen her, that day she’d peered in the real estate window, that glow had gone.

Cherry recovered first. “Hello, Laura.”

“Hello, Cherry.”

They both stood there, bound together by one man, yet unsure of their own relationship.

“I think it’s time we had a chat, don’t you?” said Laura.

* * *

They went to a high-street coffee shop, something busy and impersonal.

As soon as they found their place in the queue, Laura regretted asking Cherry along.

What did she have to say to her? She thoroughly disliked her, and, yet, she wanted to know what it was like when she visited Daniel.

She’d just talk to her enough to satisfy her suspicions—that he was as unresponsive with Cherry as he was with her and Howard—and then she’d make her excuses and leave.

They found a table that was covered in sugar grains and Laura wiped them away with a paper napkin. They sat and Cherry was clearly not in the mood to strike up conversation as she gazed out the window at the people walking past. Laura contemplated her for a moment.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” It came out harsher than she’d intended, accusatory .

Cherry gave her a hard stare and then took a sip of her tea, in no hurry. “It’s my day off. I work Saturdays.”

Chastened, Laura realized something else. “But you see Daniel today, Thursdays.”

“Yes.”

“So you come into town especially.”

This irritated Cherry on two fronts: Tooting was town, albeit farther out, and of course she did. “Yes, Laura. He’s my boyfriend.”

They fell into silence for a moment and Cherry went back to staring out the window.

“How have you found . . . the visits?” asked Laura.

Cherry shrugged. “I worry I’m boring him with talk of houses.”

“Do you think he’s listening?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes.”

Laura was quick: “Why, what’s he done?”

“Nothing, I mean I don’t want to get your hopes up or anything—it’s more of a feeling. He’s too special, too interested in things, in people, not to listen.” Her eyes glazed with tears and she quickly rubbed them away. “They don’t know when he’s going to wake up, do they?”

“No.”

“I miss him.” Her voice was so small, so lost, that Laura’s heart cracked, for just a moment.

Cherry pulled herself together. “Sorry, I know you do too.” She lowered her head, fiddled with her teaspoon, and then looked up again.

“And I’m sorry for taking him away, and on your weekend too.

If I could only turn back the clock . . .

” Suddenly she was sobbing loudly, conspicuously, and Laura stared, horrified.

Then as other customers glanced over, she grabbed a paper napkin and thrust it at Cherry.

“Here. Dry your eyes.”

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry. . . .” But she managed to stem the tears. Laura noticed that she looked even more of a mess than before. “Sometimes,” continued Cherry, “sometimes I feel like I’m going to fall apart, bit by bit, find parts of me dropped onto the floor.” She attempted a smile .

Laura watched her. She wasn’t sure about this new repentant, grieving Cherry.

She didn’t trust her. This was the girl who’d lied and manipulated her way into their lives, thrown herself into a swimming pool and insinuated that Laura had pushed her.

She had deliberately ruined Laura’s birthday weekend, and then had taken her son on a trip that had put him in the hospital for five months.

But then, she did seem rather upset. Perhaps, after all, she had a conscience.

“Maybe you should go home.”

“I can’t. I’m waiting until six.”

She meant the time Laura had allowed her to see Daniel. “Look, I’m sure he won’t mind your not going tonight. Howard will be there later anyway.”

“I can’t, I—”

“I’ll be honest with you, Cherry, you look a state. Go home, have a bath, and get some rest. In fact, why don’t you take some time out. When’s the last time you had a proper break?”

“What do you mean?”

“A week away. A change of scene. Some time when you don’t think about Daniel.”

“I always think about him.”

Laura began to get irritated and could feel her compassion wearing thin.

“For heaven’s sake, get yourself some sun. Take a holiday or something. Daniel will no doubt be in the same state when you get back.”

“Do you think?”

Laura reluctantly nodded.

Cherry gave her a watery smile. “I think you might be right. I could do with getting away.”

Laura nodded again, then stood. “Good-bye, Cherry.”

“Good-bye, Laura.”

* * *

Cherry watched her leave, and when Laura had disappeared down the road, Cherry decided to get a chocolate brownie from the counter.

After all, she had something to celebrate.

The truth was, she was exhausted. Exhausted from visiting, from waiting, from wondering.

She wasn’t sleeping well, and the doctor had prescribed some Zopiclone, which had helped at first, but the pills left her listless.

At first, just after the accident, she’d missed Daniel terribly.

He’d become such a big part of her life and they’d spent so much time together, but then, after a while, the sadness spread beyond him.

She was also feeling a terrible loss for her new life, for their—her—future.

Things had changed rapidly since the accident.

There were no more dinners at nice restaurants, no staying in his swanky flat.

She winced every time she thought of that beautiful, expensive place going to waste, empty with no one to enjoy it.

She’d even had to give the car back the day Howard returned from Wales.

He’d phoned her at the office and asked her to park it outside his house and drop the keys through the letterbox.

Christmas had been utterly miserable. Wendy had invited her back to Croydon and it had been just the two of them around the fold-up table with a turkey crown and paper hats, which she had removed at the earliest opportunity.

Every time she saw Daniel, she urged him to hurry up and get out of his coma so they could be together again, continue with the life she’d planned for them.

But more than five long months had passed, and so far, nothing had changed.

Cherry had religiously visited him twice a week, every week, when she could quite easily have made excuses not to—but she hadn’t—and the vigil was beginning to take its toll.

She started to wonder how long she would be expected to stay girlfriend to a man who couldn’t respond to her in any shape or form.

She was young; she had plans; and the longer she sat by that bedside, the more she wondered what other opportunities were drifting away.

She’d planned on getting engaged in about four months’ time, a year since she’d met Daniel, and if that didn’t happen, which it didn’t look like it would, then she’d have to start all over again.

When she thought like this, she fell into an agitated despair, mourning what could have been.

It was made worse by the fact that work wasn’t going too well lately.

She was too clever for it, and it bored her.

She had to work extra hard to keep up her agent’s persona, but she felt trapped.

She couldn’t leave, because if she didn’t have a job, she’d lose her flat and Croydon loomed.

She could look for another position, but she’d only been there a year and it wouldn’t look good on her résumé.

What she was desperate for was a break, a chance to rest, take stock, get a new perspective on things.

She’d saved a bit and could book something cheap, a last-minute trip.

But she hadn’t wanted to disappear on a two-week holiday to Mexico and come back all tanned and relaxed, because she didn’t want Laura thinking she was callous.

Now, however, she had permission. She smiled. The tears had come at the right time.