Cold Comfort (28 page)

“Whether I need to get my own manager,
whether I go back to college, whether I even want to sing as a profession. You
know life, the universe, and everything.” I paused. “Hey, I would ask one
favour, though. There’s a request in here to sing at a children’s cancer ward. I’d
like to do it. Will you sing with me? We can do the single.”

“When is it?”

I scanned the page for the details.
“Tomorrow afternoon.”

“That’s the first free time we’ll have had
in days,” he protested. “Can’t they rearrange?”

“These are kids with cancer. Time is not
their friend.”

“Okay, well, I’ll do my best… for you,” he
said with a grin. “Make sure Wayne knows and schedules in a car.” I quickly
used the contact details on the page to confirm our availability with the
hospital, who were delighted, and then scurried straight over to Wayne and
filled him in. He just scowled when he heard what I’d agreed to, especially
when he heard I’d roped Cat in too.

“Most acts would cut off their right arms
to have a tenth of those appearances and bookings, and you choose to do the one
that pays you zilch?” I shrugged and said nothing. There was no way Wayne and I
were ever going to agree on the subject.

*

The morning had passed relatively
peacefully after the chaos of the last few days. By ten minutes before I’d
arranged to meet Cat, I was dressed in my skinny jeans and the black vest top I
liked so much. It was casual, but that was the way I preferred it. I finished the
look off with biker boots and a heavy belt, congratulating myself that I’d got
the rock chick look down. It helped I had a wardrobe full of new clothes to
pick from now.

I’d arranged to meet Cat in the lobby, and
when I walked out of the elevator he was already surrounded by fans and the
predictable groupies. He must have been looking out for me because moments
after he pushed his way through the crowd and headed over to me. He was in a
Nirvana t-shirt and some faded blue jeans that clung to his legs in all the
right places. “You look amazing,” he said when he reached me, bending down to
give me a knee-trembling kiss. I swear I heard the collective female population
groan at the sight, but I didn’t care. He took my hand and led me out to a
waiting car.

“Where are we going?”

“Just a little place on the coast I know. It’s
quiet and beautiful. We can talk there.” I nodded and let him guide me into the
car. I spent the journey in silence, content with him holding my hand as the
driver sped up the coastline, away from the city lights, until we reached a
small Italian restaurant situated high in the hills, with a beautiful view
overlooking the ocean.

He led me inside where we were met by an
Italian man, clearly the owner, who seemed delighted to see Cat again. We were
quickly seated in a private area, away from the prying eyes of the other
diners, where Cat ordered a bottle of red wine and some appetisers while we
both perused the menu. “You’ve been here before,” I observed.

“Yeah, I like it here. The food is simple
but good, and I like the owner. His son is a friend of mine. He plays for
another band.” I was relieved it wasn’t his favourite date night venue, making
me just the latest in a long stream of women in his life.

When the waiter returned we ordered
delicious-sounding plates of pasta, while Cat poured the wine. I helped myself
to a breadstick, nibbling on the end, while I waited for us to be left alone again.
Finally, we had the space to ourselves. Cat sat back in his chair, cradling his
wine glass as he looked at me. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.”

“I’m sorry, Delilah. I keep doing it –
keep risking what we have for… nothing. I hate myself afterwards.”

“What made you so angry that day?”

“I don’t know.”

“I think you do,” I called him out, taking
a big gulp of my wine for courage.

He paused before answering. “I think I was
jealous. You were getting so much attention. Every interview turned into a
discussion about you, I couldn’t handle it. Then in the interview when he
suggested I was wrapped around your finger – I just felt pissed off. I’m
sorry, I shouldn’t have said what I did. I didn’t mean it.”

“You hurt me.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Why can’t you handle me getting
attention?”

“I think you’re going to leave me. Won’t
need me anymore.”

“Why would I not need you? I’m far more
likely to leave you if you act like a womanising arsehole. Did you fuck any of
them?”

“No. No, I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Did you do anything else with anyone that
I should know about?” He hesitated, and my heart broke a little. I felt tears
pool in my eyes.

“I kissed a couple of girls. That’s it. I
stopped it from going any further because they meant nothing. You’re everything
to me.”

“So because you were jealous of me getting
some attention you went and got off with other women to punish me.”

He nodded, looking miserable. “I told you I
would fuck up. I don’t know how to control this relationship.”

“Maybe stop trying to control it and start
talking to me. Start telling me what you need from me to feel secure, to not
need to go off like that with other women. Start respecting me. I don’t know if
I can handle this if you can’t find a different way to let me know you’re
unhappy with a situation. It was kissing this time, but what will it be next
time you don’t like something I do? A quick blowjob, a fuck? I’m not a mug.”

“I’m struggling with you becoming a
celebrity. I want to keep you to myself.”

“I never asked for any of this. I didn’t
want fame. You put me in this position.”

“That article, it just knocked me sideways.
Everything I saw in you was right there. For everyone else to see. All the
potential laid out across the page, and I felt like you were slipping away from
me.”

“You pushed me more like,” I responded,
indignant now. “I wanted nothing more than to finish my degree and become a
music teacher. I still want that. I did the interview for you, because Wayne
said it was good for the single, good for the band. The promotion work, the appearances,
all for you, because it would help Cold Comfort. I didn’t want or need any of
it. And then you have the gall to get pissed with me because people praised me
instead of you? I think that’s fairly pathetic. You went and copped off with
other women just to hurt me because I’d done well? That’s low. How would you
feel if I had done the same?”

“Devastated,” he whispered. “God, Delilah,
I’m so sorry. It was only a kiss. It meant nothing. It was just the cocaine.”

“The cocaine is a problem too.” I held up
my hand as he started to protest. “It’s just recreational,” I said, stealing
his line before he could say it. “I know. I’ve heard you say it enough. Tell me,
though, how often were you doing it before I arrived on the scene? Every weekend?
Every other day? Every night? Be honest with yourself, does that sound
recreational to you? It’s moved beyond that. Henry does a line before every
appearance now.” His brow furrowed. “If it’s not already a problem it’s going
to be soon. I don’t like the man you become when you take it. I don’t want a
relationship with that man.” Cat deflated in front of me.

“But I do want a relationship with this
man,” I said, reaching out to take hold of his hand. “I want to go back to the
UK and finish college, and I want us to try and make this work. I don’t need
the limelight. If giving it up means not losing you, then it’s a sacrifice I’d
willingly make. If it makes you that unhappy, then I’d do that for you… for us.
But it’s conditional.” He looked up at me, hope visible for the first time in
our conversation. “No other women and no cocaine.”

He let out a long breath. “I can try,” he
promised. “For you I will try.”

I nodded as the waiter brought our plates
in and placed them down in front of us. It felt like a fresh start. I just
prayed I wasn’t getting my hopes up only to have them dashed again.

Our first test arrived the very next
morning when my UK article got picked up in some of the US press. The paparazzi
were all over us during our early appearance that day, attention fixed
primarily on me, and I could feel Cat becoming more and more tense as the
morning went on.

After lunch the band retreated to the
studio to work on their album, while Eddy and I tried to dodge the press. We’d attempted
to do the tourist thing and take a trip round Hollywood, but the press had
other ideas, and in the end we’d called it a day and headed back to the hotel.

By quarter past three I was standing in the
hospital reception with my guitar. The staff were delighted I’d accepted the
request to sing for the kids. I spent more than an hour just meeting some of
them, the heartbreakingly visible impact of their illness on their small bodies
humbling me and making me thank god for the health I’d been blessed with. They
were so happy to meet me, and I felt the least I could do was make the
experience one to remember.

By half past four there was still no sign
of Cat, and people were starting to get fidgety. Some of the press had got wind
of where I was, and the hospital had given permission for one of them to come
inside. “What made you decide to do this, Delilah?” he asked.

“I was honoured to be asked. If the kids
thought it would brighten their day for me to sing, then I was happy to do it.”

“Where’s Cat? I thought he was coming too.”

“So did I,” I admitted. “He must have been
held up at the studio.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard what Cold Comfort are
like when they get in the studio.” He snorted.

“We need to start the rounds soon,” the
nurse who’d shown me around said, shifting uncomfortably at needing to rush me.

“Sure,” I said, feeling equally awkward. “Well,
if you don’t mind it being just me then I’m happy to start.” Everyone nodded. I
quickly got my guitar out of the case and sat down on the stool to tune it,
trying to control my shaking hands. A small expectant crowd had gathered, and I
scanned the faces, hoping to see Cat amongst them. I didn’t. But I did see
Hardy. He was near the back, his eyes fixed on me.

“If you’re ready, then,” the nurse said,
and I realised with some embarrassment I’d been staring at him for the last
five minutes. He smiled and nodded encouragingly, and I looked down at my
guitar, trying to decide what to play.

“Um,” I began hesitantly, then another look
at Hardy made my mind up for me. “So most of you know the single I did with
Cold Comfort, ‘Eternity’, but that’s a duet, so I can’t sing that right now
because Cat’s not here. If you don’t mind I’d like to sing one of my own. It’s
something I wrote when I was going through a hard time. I hope you like it. It’s
called ‘One Small Step’.” With that I played my song, for the first time
singing the words I’d written so long ago. Singing them to Hardy.

I’m sorry, it’s too hard for me to stay
Heard you went with that other girl, so there’s nothing left for us to say
I’m sorry, I’m too selfish to just wait
And hope that maybe you’ll wake up and believe in our fate

My voice was strong and confident as I sang
the words. It was liberating, and as I sang the final refrain I sought Hardy out
and sang directly to him:

So I took a step, and then one more
I reached for the strength and I found the door
Because one small step away from you
Was one small step towards him too.

I finished, feeling triumphant. It was
emancipating to finally tell him how I’d felt all those months ago. All those
times I’d been unable to sing the lyrics I realised now had been because I’d
been waiting for this moment. The moment when I could tell him to his face.

The applause when it came actually startled
me. Suddenly I was thrust back into the moment, aware of the sea of faces
smiling and clapping and looking at me with delight. I lost count of the people
who congratulated me on the performance, as the photographer clicked away
beside me.

“Who was it, Delilah?” a reporter asked. “Who
broke your heart?” I swung my head to find one of the paparazzi beside me.

“Excuse me,” I said, pushing to get through
the crowd.

“Was it Cat?”

“What? No!”

“Then how does it feel to have it happening
again?” he called. “He’s with Tiff Johnson now when he’s meant to be here with
you. Have you seen the pictures on Twitter? How does that make you feel?” At
the words my face crumbled, my vision blurred and I felt lost and alone in a sea
of strangers. I pushed blindly forward as the photographer snapped his pictures
all the while. Panic rose in me, until a strong arm wrapped around my shoulders
and steered me forward. I pressed my head into the shoulder of my saviour until
I heard a door close, the noise suddenly diminished, and finally we were alone.
I looked up and was enveloped by Hardy’s warm chocolate gaze. Watching warily as
he wiped the tears from my cheeks with the pad of his thumb, I used the moments
to store the small changes that had occurred in the time since we’d last been
together like this. Small lines around his forehead and spidering around his
eyes.

“What are you doing here?” I finally asked.

“My family, my mother, donated this children’s
wing to the hospital. I was the one who suggested you might be willing to do
this.”

“You arranged this? You set me up because
you wanted to see me? You exploited sick kids just to get some time with me?”

“No, I took a chance that the big-hearted
girl I knew would be willing to give her time for nothing to a bunch of sick
kids who may not have much longer on this earth. I did it for them, but I won’t
deny I hoped to see you too.”

“Well, now you have. Did you like the song?
I wrote it just for you.”

“The song was beautiful, but it’s one of
the saddest I think I’ve ever heard. I think it actually broke my heart.”

“I know the feeling,” I said, sobbing. He
pulled me into his arms and hugged me, and I let him until my sobs had calmed,
my breathing approaching something resembling normal again. Then I pulled back
and looked at him. “I shouldn’t be here… with you.”

“Look, have a coffee with me. Just one
coffee. Let me talk to you for ten minutes. Nothing else; coffee and a
conversation. Please, Delilah.” There was a note of desperation in his voice. I
hesitated, then looked at my phone – there were no messages from Cat. I
opened my Twitter app and sure enough in Cat’s feed there were pictures of the
band mid-party in the studio. I recognised all the signs. Tiff was virtually in
Cat’s lap in most of the pictures. His eyes were glazed. Less than twelve hours
after promising me he’d try, he’d fallen off the wagon. And with her too.

I sent him a text;
All deals are off. Hope
she/it was worth it.
Then I turned off my phone and swivelled to look at
Hardy. “Coffee, that’s all. You’ve got ten minutes.” His face lit up.

He led me out the office we’d been hiding
in, the crowd having finally dispersed, and then down some stairs until we
arrived in a car park. His car was a black Audi R8. “You got your trust fund,
then?”

“I got what I was entitled to. For putting
up with that bastard as my father, and surviving despite an almost continually
absent mother. Since then I’ve nearly trebled it,” he said as he opened the
door and waited for me to climb in.

“So soon… How?” I asked, curious.

“I’m a venture capitalist. I invest in
other people’s ideas, help them make their dreams a reality. Turns out I’m
rather good at spotting potential. Well, you should know. You were my first.”

“You didn’t make any money out of me,” I
scoffed as he sped out of the car park.

“No, but I saw the potential, bought you
the guitar.” He grinned at me. “The rest, as they say, is history.” I turned to
look out the window, noting the shops and many coffee shops we had already
passed.

“Where are we going? You’re passing all the
coffee shops.”

“There’s a place I like up in the Hills. I
wanted to show it to you. They do the best coffee I’ve ever had.”

“The Hills? That’s hardly a ten-minute
coffee. You’re pushing your luck.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I promise it will be
worth it.” I sat back in the seat and watched the scenery as we drove. “You
were amazing earlier,” Hardy suddenly said. “Your voice is even better than I
remember it, and that song. God, I don’t have words…”

“Thank you. I’ve never performed it before.
You inspired me.”

“I’m so sorry you were ever made to feel
like that. … I’m sorry I made you feel like that.” He turned the car into a
driveway, pulling through some immense wrought iron gates.

“What is this place? A hotel?” I asked as
we pulled up in front of a massive house.

“A house. My house.” My head swivelled to
look at him.

“Your house? What the hell, Hardy! Take me
home right now.”

“I will,” he soothed, “I promise. It’ll
just be coffee – good coffee – and then I’ll take you home. If we’d
gone anywhere public we’d have been disturbed. You’re too well known right now.
I imagine after today’s shenanigans you’re all over the entertainment news. I’ve
waited so long to talk to you I didn’t want anyone to disturb us. I’m sorry, I
was being selfish. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, putting his hands out
as I leaned my back against the door, trying to move as far away from him as I
was able. “Just coffee, I promise.” I looked at him and saw nothing that led me
to believe he was lying, then wondered if that was what all murder victims
thought as they wandered into the murderer’s lair.

“You are scaring me,” I admitted.

“Call your friend – Eddy, is it? Tell
him where you are. I’ll give you the address.”

“Okay,” I nodded slowly. I switched my
phone on, ignoring the texts and missed calls from Cat that started to flood my
phone, and called Eddy.

“Delilah, oh my god where are you? I saw
the footage from the hospital… are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m with a friend. I’m going to have
coffee, but I’m going to give you the address so you don’t worry about me.” I
didn’t add it was so that I didn’t worry about me either.

“What friend? What’s the address?” I
repeated the details after Hardy said them to me and could hear Eddy scribbling
them down. “Who is it, Delilah? Cat’s been going out his mind. He lost it after
he got your text.”

“Well, he should have done what he said he
would, then, shouldn’t he? Maybe he should have spent a bit more time with me
and a little less with Tiff Johnson. I’ll be back in about an hour,” I
promised. “Just don’t give the address to Cat. Promise me,” I added when Eddy
was initially silent.

“I promise,” he breathed. “Are you with
him? Is he here? Are you really okay?” he asked, sounding worried now.

“I’m okay. I’ll be back in an hour. I love
you.”

“I love you too, D. Look after yourself.”

“I will,” I promised.

I disconnected the phone and then turned
back to look at Hardy. “You’d better get going. You’re on the clock.” He leaped
out of the car and ran round to my door.

“Walk round the side there,” he said,
pointing at the side of the building. “There’s a patio with an amazing view. Make
yourself comfortable while I organise the coffee.” He sprinted off indoors,
while I made my way to where he’d pointed. As I rounded the corner I literally
gasped at the view. An infinity pool led away to the rolling hills beyond.

I was still standing staring at the
spectacle in front of me when Hardy emerged with a tray of coffee. “Do you like
it?” he asked, placing the tray on the patio table and coming to stand beside
me.

“How could I not? It’s incredible.”

“Good.” He looked pleased with himself. “Still
milk no sugar?” he asked, pouring us each a cup of filter coffee.

“Yes, thank you.” I sat down opposite,
taking my cup when he passed it to me. “So, you wanted to talk?”

“I wanted to explain. I’ve planned for so
long what I would say when I had a chance, but now you’re here, in front of me,
I find myself oddly speechless.”

“Well, we can just drink our coffee. There’s
not much to say, really. Your father bought and paid for my mother. You wanted
to do the same for me. In the meantime, while I was waiting for you, you were
off doing whatever with Clarissa…” I trailed off.

“Is that what he told you?” He looked angry
now. “He paid for your mother’s favours, that much is certainly true. I tried
to persuade her once, after you and I got together that first time, to leave
him… to take you away. But she wouldn’t. I even offered to repay her debts to
him, but she said she didn’t want to be beholden to yet another man, or let you
get caught up in what she thought of as her mess.” That sounded like my Mama. “But
I never, never suggested I would use you that way. Jesus, Delilah, how could
you think that of me?”

“Your father said it outright. Suggested he
might renege on the deal and keep me for himself because he liked the look of
me. Mama was scared for me, and that’s why I ran. I couldn’t risk it – I
didn’t know what to believe.”