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Chapter Twenty-six

Leon

While I could count easily the number of times I’ve seen Gemma upset over something, I have never seen her cry. Kay cries all the time over the smallest things, but Gemma …

There are fat, round tears clinging to her eyelashes and splashing onto her cheeks. Francesca gives a little gasp and starts rummaging through her bag to offer some Kleenex, and Gemma just stares ahead, breathless and tearful, looking sort of catatonic.

I almost ask Francesca if she thinks she’s in shock. Actually, I might be in shock.

Then Gemma takes the tissue offered to her, sniffling, and she props her glasses up on top of her head to wipe her eyes. She drags in a noisy, shaking breath. ‘Sorry, you two, sorry, I just … Wow, don’t drink on an empty stomach, right?’

She laughs. It’s hollow.

Francesca’s face creases, and she gives me a pained, helpless sort of look. I wish I had the answers.

I don’t know what happened with Gemma’s ex. I’m starting to understand a bit about her friendship with Kayleigh – if you can call it that; it sounds more like enmity whenever she opens her mouth to mention her.

I do know about Gemma’s dad, though. That he walked out on them when she was twelve, and he and her mum weren’t married so he just stopped paying the rent and they got kicked out and ended up moving.

I know he has a second family, that Gemma has half-siblings and a stepmother she met once and never again.

I know that he was meant to visit and see her in school holidays, but he wouldn’t show up, and she’d have to call Kayleigh and come spend the day with us lot while Nana looked after us.

I know he’s a deadbeat, and Gemma doesn’t talk about him, and her relationship with her mum broke down sometime when she was in sixth form. I used to come home from uni and she and Kay would be hanging out, and Mum said to me once, ‘I worry about that girl, you know.’

At the time, I thought she meant that Gemma was trouble.

She got detention sometimes, and she’d be the one who’d drunk a bit too much at a party that Kayleigh would have to look after (or so the stories would go), and she didn’t apply herself a whole lot in school.

She skated by until sixth form, when reality hit and she realised she’d have to really focus if she wanted to get into uni like Kay and their other friends.

Thinking about it now, I wonder if it was less about keeping up, and more about getting out, and if Mum worried about her for other kinds of reasons.

I never asked Gemma about it. I never thought to. She was Kay’s best friend and I always assumed if there was a real problem, Kay would’ve told me what was going on.

Seeing her so upset now, though, watching her gulp down breaths and fight to stop the tears pouring down her cheeks even as they keep coming, I wish I had. I wish I’d been there, like I try to be for Kay and Myleene.

Francesca offers Gemma an open bottle of water, and she takes a swig, glancing to the brunette with a wobbly smile of thanks. I’m not sure if I should do something. Francesca’s got the practicalities handled, and it’d be weird to hug her. I’m not much of a hugger, normally.

Finally, Gemma gathers herself enough to say, ‘Anyway, if I leave, it’s just going to prove I’m not good enough.’

Francesca and I exchange glances.

Right. Guess we’re not talking about the dad or the ex, then.

‘According to who?’ I ask her. ‘Kayleigh?’

She rolls her eyes, which seems like a ‘yes’.

‘But you’d rather work for her?’

Gemma flinches, cringing, and I get the impression that thought has only just occurred to her.

She buries her face in her hands, groaning, ‘Oh, God, I am, aren’t I?

As if I’m ever going to get promoted when she’ll be the one in charge of my career.

And everyone’s going to know that I pitched the promotion and she got it instead and they’re all going to laugh at me behind my back, and …

How am I supposed to show my face there?

How can I not? That’s a thousand times more embarrassing.

And she’s going to lord it over me forever.

Between that and me barely making the wedding in time …

Ugh. God, I actually hate her.’ She laughs, though, like it’s a joke.

Does she mean that in the same way as she has Kayleigh’s number saved as ‘bitch’ (with a sparkle emoji), like it’s a sort of long-suffering affection?

Looking at her tear-stained face, I don’t think so.

I’m about to ask why she bothers being Kay’s friend if that’s the case, but Francesca catches my eye and gives a small shake of her head. They must’ve talked about this earlier already.

Francesca rubs Gemma’s back, offering her the water again.

She says, ‘Maybe you’re thinking about this the wrong way.

Maybe it isn’t that you’d prove you aren’t good enough for them – but proving you’re too good for them.

If they’ve overlooked you like you said, if you’ve been cheated out of a job that ought to have been yours, wouldn’t it be less like throwing your toys out of the pram and more like giving them the middle finger and a big ‘F you!’ when you find something better, at a place that does value you? ’

Gemma snorts, the sound thick with snot. She cuts Francesca a flat look, arching an eyebrow. ‘What, like you and Marcus? Give me a break, hon.’

Francesca recoils a bit. ‘That’s not—’

‘It is . If anybody should understand why I don’t want to leave, it’s you. You’re clinging to this idea of being with Marcus because it’s too mortifying to admit defeat, right? And there’s still a chance to win, as long as you’ve got skin in the game. You can still make a comeback.’

‘I …’ But Francesca trails off, not having much of a retort to that.

She blinks a couple of times, turning her face away, and I wonder if Gemma’s words cut a little too deep.

I’m at a loss, though, not sure how to navigate any of this.

I don’t know how to comfort Gemma if she’s taking the stance that she doesn’t want help, like she’s accepted her fate, and just like I couldn’t bring myself to write that speech for the wedding reception, I can’t bring myself to tell Francesca that it’s okay, I’m sure Marcus will choose her.

It’d be great for us if he did, but …

Is she even really his type? She’s so … soft . Gentle, and warm. Wouldn’t he walk all over her? Take over with his arrogance and ego, while she disappeared into the background? Hardly much of a partner .

I’ll give Kay that – she and Marcus always seem on an even keel. Equals. There’s a sense of mutual respect, even if they snipe at each other sometimes.

(Is that the sort of thing you can put in a wedding speech? It’s not very romantic, but it is honest, at least.)

But Francesca, who literally let herself get trodden on by that guy in the coffee queue earlier …

No. It’s not my place.

She’s already chosen Marcus anyway, right?

I open up one of the pizza boxes, and offer it to the girls.

They both dive in, and the tension breaks.

I feel it snap, loosening the air around us, the tightness bleeding out of my shoulders.

I watch Gemma sit a bit straighter where she’s leaning against the wall, crossing her legs more comfortably beneath her, and Francesca gives a little wriggle, relaxing too.

We pour some more drinks, and barely come up for air as we scarf down the food, all three of us ravenous. The long day, the amped-up emotions ahead of the wedding, the late hour and the stress culminate in us absolutely tearing through our picnic like a pack of vultures.

We eat ourselves into food comas, until I can barely see straight and Gemma is groaning and unbuttoning her trousers to rub her stomach, and Francesca is struggling to find a comfortable position. She ends up going for a wander to walk off the food.

When she’s gone, Gemma swirls her drink around the little paper cup. This one is more Coke than vodka, I noticed. She seems to be making a concerted effort not to look at me, which gets my attention as much as if she was staring daggers through my skull.

So I ask her, ‘What’s up?’

‘Just … That stuff about my dad …’

‘Oh. I won’t say anything to Francesca; it’s okay. I’m sorry I brought it up.’

‘No, it’s … I mean, you were right. If I quit – if I walk away, I’m no better than him.’

‘It’s a job, Gem. Not a child.’

She grimaces; I could’ve worded that more tactfully. But before I can apologise, she’s already saying, ‘I don’t just mean the job.’

It takes me a beat to realise. ‘Kayleigh.’

‘Yeah. I can’t just turn my back the second things get hard. And she … You guys did so much for me when we were kids. She did so much for me. I wouldn’t have made it to where I am without her.’

I nod, even though I know I’m only just beginning to understand.

The way she talks about Kay – the things she says Kay’s done, not just in general but to Gemma …

At the very least, it’s unhealthy. If she were saying those things about a partner, I’d be telling her those were classic signs of an abusive relationship, or at least a toxic one.

She can’t be happy. She certainly doesn’t look happy.

A couple of people in white T-shirts scrawled with silly nicknames and things like ‘Mate of Honour’ trip past us, leaning on each other and laughing on their way to the toilets. I wonder if the wedding they’re building up to is as hellish as this one.

Gemma scoffs a little, rolling her eyes like she’s thinking the same thing.

My heart is sitting heavy in my chest, and I feel restless and unwell in a way that has nothing to do with overeating.

For all I’d convinced myself on the flight out that I was on a mission to put a stop to the wedding and get Kayleigh back for the family’s sake, I’m not so sure that’s a good idea, if this is who she’s become. Who she’s always been, maybe. It’s feeling more nauseating by the minute, actually.

It’d break Mum’s heart to feel like Kay ditched us for her new life with Marcus, but wouldn’t it be worse to know Kay cut us out because she simply doesn’t want us in her life? Not that we’ve been replaced, just – abandoned.

I glance again at Gemma.

‘I’m not saying you don’t owe her for being your friend and being there for you. But you don’t have to sacrifice your whole life just to try and make up for that. And if you walked away from … from the job, from whatever, it doesn’t mean you’re no better than your dad.’

The smile she gives me is wan.

‘Easier said than done.’