Breaking Joseph (30 page)

Then other
thoughts began to crackle and snap.

“You!” I
shrieked at Aidan. “You told him?”

He held up his
hands. “What was I meant to do? He was going to ask when he saw the
website. I told you.” He shrugged. “Besides, I knew this was all
wrong–and it was.”

“Congratulations on narrowly
not
fucking up my life!”

“I shouldn’t
have kept the picture.” Matt bit his lip and I swear there was a
glimpse of a tremble to it. “I just…I never expected her to look
through anything…”

“It’s not your
fault,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry I blamed you.”

Aidan rolled
his eyes. “So you should be, you faithless harpy. Now. Tell her the
good news, Mattman.”

“What? What are
you on about?”

Matt raised his
eyebrows in a vague attempt at a smile. “We fixed it.”

“What do you
mean, you fixed it?” I had to grasp my wrist to control my pulse.
“What have you done?”

“In the
bedroom, Lei-Lei.” Aidan cocked his head to the door.

I glanced
between the pair of them, swallowing. “Is Joe in there?”

Please. No,
wait. Please not. Please–

Matt snorted.
“No.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

Oh. “So…so
what’s…”

“For crying out
loud.” Aidan snatched my bags away and dragged me by the arm. “Just
get in there, will you? The suspense is killing me!”

I reached for
my purse and he jerked it away. “But my phone–work–”

“I’ll talk to
Will. This won’t take long, okay?” He opened the door. “Now stop
arsing about.”

Aidan’s bedroom
was small and uncluttered, all mirrored furniture and black and
white canvases. A large lamp soaked the room in glowing shadows and
they stuck to the familiar shape on the bed.

I squinted at
him. “Charlie?”

He rose up from
his elbows and nodded at me. “Leila.”

“Jesus. What
happened to your eye?” I marched over and cupped his chin. A
plum-stained bruise curved about his left socket. Ouch.

Charlie eased
my hand away gently. “Sit down.”

I obeyed.
“Charlie…why are you here?” The room was warm, and yet goose
pimples whirled feverishly along my bare skin.

“Where to
start, eh?” He cocked a nonchalant eyebrow. “I suppose you’ll be
wanting the long version?”

“If you
like.”

He gnawed at
his lip; he was as on edge as I was and it unsettled me. “Matt came
to see me yesterday. He said…he said that a friend of his was in
trouble and he needed some help.”

“
Matt
punched you?” Jesus.

“He needed to
find the friend a job, and I knew immediately that he would only
ask for you.”

“He found out
that you and I know each other,” I mumbled. “Last week.”

“So I learned.”
He scratched at his nose. “I asked if it was you. He said yes. And
then he implied that he knew what had gone on between us, so I
apologized.”

“Oh God.”

“Only there’s
been a mix-up of some sort, Leila.” He twisted to catch me with
Velcro eyes. “I told him I was sorry we’d been lovers, and he
seemed to think I was paying you for sex.”

I gulped stale
air.

“It was when I
told him about our relationship that he punched me,” Charlie went
on, still gazing at me. “And you know, I understand why he did it.
I couldn’t have smacked him back. Fucking hurts, mind.” He pressed
fingertips to his swollen skin. “But there’s a reason you’ve had to
leave Bach and Dagier, isn’t there?”

I nodded
silently.

“Tell me that
it isn’t what I think it is.” It was his turn to go cold. “Tell me
it isn’t what Matt implied.”

His
disappointment made my bones ache. He had been cataclysmic in
Charlotte’s inception, had sculpted her with those wizened
hands–but he had done it for himself. Not for a hundred other men
across London.

“Is it my
fault?” he said finally. “Is that what I made you do?”

“No.” I didn’t
want to cry in front of him. I didn’t want to cry at all; I’d done
more of that these past weeks than I had in a very long time. “Not
like that, I mean.”

“Because that’s
not what you were to me, you know.”

“I don’t know
what you mean.”

His voice
split. “You weren’t a whore.”

I rubbed my
eyes, trying to hide the tears that swarmed there. “I know,” I
croaked. “Charlie–”

“No, no. I
don’t want to hear it. What the hell were you thinking? You silly,
silly girl!”

I crumpled into
myself, the whimpers as mortifying as the badly suppressed
sobs.

“Well?” he
ranted. “What possessed you? Anything could have happened. If you
were in trouble, you should have come to me.”

“It wasn’t for
me,” I snapped. “It was for my parents. They were in trouble. And
it’s all sorted now, I’m fine–”

“Fine? You’ve
flushed six years of training down the toilet! I had your boss on
the phone last week, wanting to know when you started working for
me! I thought it was a mix-up with your internship, but now…Jesus.”
His cheeks hit his hands with a painful slap. “I honestly didn’t
think you were this stupid.”

The other day,
when I was musing over why I never told people about the whoring?
This
was why.

“They looked
after me,” I said quietly.

“What, your
pimps? That ginger tit out there?”

I squared my
shoulders and blotted my eyes with the back of my hand. “Aidan
isn’t a tit.”

“Yes, he is.
And so help me, if I find out that Matt paid you a single penny, I
will beat the living daylights out of him.” His fist landed roughly
in his palm. “I’ll bloody enjoy it too.”

“He never paid
me.” It was
sort
of true.

“He wants you
to get away from all this. I agree with him.”

“What?”

“Look. I don’t
have a job for you, Leila. I can’t pull one out of thin air. But
the firm that Matt is going to work for…” He looked me in the eye.
“I’ve had a chat with them. They’re willing to take you on.”

“What? They’re
miles away. How did you–”

“I’ve known one
of the partners for a long time. It’s not tax law. You’ll have to
specialize in something else. It won’t be a City salary. But it’s a
job, and it starts in two weeks.”

I stared at the
wooden floor for a few moments, half expecting a hole to appear and
a rabbit to pop up in a hurry.

I’m late, I’m
late…

“I’ve signed
for my flat again, Charlie. I can’t leave London,” I said hoarsely.
I didn’t want to leave London, either.

“Matt seems to
think he could put you up for a while.”

“Oh. God.”

“They’ll let
you qualify there.” He leaned in, the closest he’d dared get to me
since I sat down. “You can’t afford not to take this. You know
that.”

“Why’s he being
so nice to me?”

“Because he
feels responsible, I imagine.” He sighed. “And he’s a good kid.
When he’s not punching people, that is.” He gestured ruefully to
his marbled eye.

“And what about
you? After this…why are you being so nice to me?”

He drew a
fingertip down my wet cheek. “Because I am responsible. In a
way.”

I was
embarrassed at how much it made me blush. “Don’t be ridiculous,
Charlie. I am what I am.”

“I know,
angel.” His thumb brushed my bottom lip. “I know.”

There was a
bang on the door and we sprang apart in a hurry.

“Is everything
all right in there?” Aidan boomed.

“Fine!” I
rolled my eyes at Charlie. “I’ll be out in a moment.”

“Just
checking.”

I cocked my
head toward the door, suddenly dubious. “Did they make you come
here?”

“It does look a
bit like I’ve been beaten into submission, doesn’t it? No…I wanted
to talk to you, Leila. All this needed sorting out.”

“Well.” I
pressed my lips together. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem.
And if you ever–ever–get into that kind of trouble again, you come
to me. Do you understand?”

I nodded.

“Good. Now, go
and put poor Matthew out of his misery and tell him you’ll accept
the offer.” Finally, he smiled, and he was the Charlie I remembered
all over again. The one who’d conjured a thousand orgasms and
beaten a rainbow of curses from my mouth.

I wanted to
smile back, but the curve wouldn’t form. The idea of working and
living with Matt made me ever so slightly queasy. It was all
so…neat. “Okay,” I managed, rising.

“I’m going home
to find some strong liquor.” He threw his leather blazer over his
arm and followed me out.

The front door
slammed and I stood in front of Matt and Aidan, shifting
awkwardly.

“Well?” Aidan
broke into a grin. “Are we brilliant, or are we brilliant?”

The tears
spilled again and then the pair of them were crushing me in a
corset of a hug.

“You’re a
ginger tit, apparently,” I bawled.

“You know, I’ll
let him off because he helped out with you. And he was kind of hot
for an old dude.”

“Aid!” Matt
scowled in horror.

Aidan broke
away to hold his hands up. “I can’t help it! Anyway.” He gestured
to me and Matt. “You two have things to talk about. I’m getting a
shower.”

“A cold one?”
My smile was genuine this time.

He sniggered.
“I’ve had better three-ways, you know.”

I watched him
disappear into the bedroom and it was then that I noticed Matt’s
hands still spanning my waist, my fist full of his sweatshirt. It
felt organic and uncomfortable at the same time.

“I’m sorry
about Charlie,” I said softly.

“Yeah. Um.” One
hand darted to the back of his head. “That’s why you dumped me,
isn’t it? When you figured it out.”

“Sort of,” I
admitted.

“I would have
understood, you know.”

I stepped away.
“You punched him, Matt!”

“I know.” He
was trying to look sober, but his eyes lit up with glee. “That was
a bit much, wasn’t it?”

“Just a bit.”
My arms folded themselves, unsure of where else to go.

“So…you’re
coming, then? To Salisbury?” He studied me with child-like hope.
How did I refuse him? Charlie was right. I’d be an idiot to turn
the offer down.

“I suppose I
am, yeah.” I chewed my lip. “This living with you thing, though.
I’m grateful and all…”

“It’s fine,
seriously. Dad and Amy loved you. And Toby–”

“Toby hates
me.”

“Tobe’s staying
in London. I’ll have his room for a bit.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t
have to be for long, just until you get everything sorted. But it’s
fine, okay?”

“Okay. Thank
you.”

What could I
say? I felt so desperately ungrateful, but…God, Salisbury seemed so
very far from Clemmie. Aidan.

And Joseph.

“I haven’t
figured out what I’ll do about Poppy yet,” he grumbled. “Fucking
bitch.”

I shook my head
feverishly. “No, no. You can’t, Matt. She’ll know that I told.”

“I forgot about
that.” He offered me his arm and reluctantly, I settled into the
crook of it. “I can’t get over the nerve of her, or Isobel. Do you
know what their problem is?”

I gazed up at
him. “Go on.”

“They’re
jealous. You were doing this thing that girls aren’t supposed to
do, and still doing well for yourself, and they didn’t like it. I
hope karma comes and bites them on the arse.” He squeezed me. “Are
you going to do anything about them?”

“What
can
I do?” I exhaled. “No…I’m just going to keep my head
down, I think. Get everything sorted.”

“I’m having a
leaving party tomorrow.” He nudged me. “Will you come?”

“Yeah. So long
as I don’t have to work, I mean,” I added quickly.

He narrowed his
eyes. “Why would you need to work now?”

Good point.
Crap.

“Yeah. You’re
right,” I mumbled. “I’ll…I’ll be there.”

He pulled his
arm free and turned to find his beer on the counter. “It’ll do you
good, I think. Getting away from that agency.”

Oh, will it,
now? Mr fucking Fix It. “I suppose so.” I smiled faintly.

“And I know
it’s not really the time to say it, but…you and me, maybe.” He
paused to catch my eye. “Maybe?”

I glanced away,
flushing. “If it happens, I suppose.”

“If it
happens.”

I took the beer
bottle he offered me.

“So…we move in
a week,” he said, brightening. “To new beginnings?”

“New
beginnings.” I clinked my beer against his.

No time to say
hello, goodbye…I’m late, I’m late!

* * * *

It was gone
eleven when I returned home.

I stared around
and tried to envision everything packed in boxes: my bookshelves,
baking cupboard, copious photo frames, about thirty pairs of
shoes.

Then I imagined
my silky, bronze linen decking out Matt’s beautiful bed. My plush
cushions piled high against the pillows, my clothes hanging in his
huge wardrobe, my nail polishes lined up neatly next to file stacks
on his shelves. I saw my shadow bumping into him on the way back
from the shower, still clad in pearls of water and one of my plum
purple towels. Gaining three stone from eating Amy’s breakfasts and
developing a borderline fetish for brown sauce.

Then Matt was
slinking into the room in the dark, in just his underwear, thinking
it silly to text me from another room.
Like paper cups on
string.

This
claustrophobia seemed childish. We’d spent the evening whooping,
teasing and playing Twister. In fact since we decided to remain as
friends, we’d been on better terms than ever. We shared the same
sense of humour, I could trust him with my secret, he filled out
jeans in a very pleasing fashion. Surely Matt was the perfect
roommate?

Except that he
loved me. That his words burned with expectation. We had history
made of skin and pain and orgasms, and the way his eyes widened
when I entered the room made it all impossible to ignore. I was so,
so rubbish at resisting the chemical snap of him, I forgot that to
touch him was to imply that we belonged.