Cold Comfort (9 page)

“Fuck,” Charles swore in the aftermath,
clasping his chin. “I think you broke my fucking jaw, you bastard,” he mumbled
through clenched teeth.

“I’ll do more than break your jaw if you keep
talking about her like that,” Hardy promised. I’d had enough. This was way out
of control.

“He didn’t ‘fuck’ me,” I said loudly, my
tone flat. “But if he had, it would have been none of your business.” Charles’
attention immediately switched to me. “I guess I’m glad I didn’t take you up on
your offer last night, Charles. I’m not into public displays of affection. Fortunately
for you, Clarissa seemed less concerned.”

If Charles was shocked by my words, it was
only for a second. Then he said; “I was imagining it was you the whole time.” He
leered at me, and I put a hand on Hardy’s arm to stop him punching Charles
again as he lunged forward.

“I saw you in the lounge with her,” I
continued. “I guess I didn’t realise that was the way you swung. I’m not really
down with the whole group sex thing. So now, if you don’t mind, I want to get
dressed and call someone to come and get me out of here.”

“You don’t need to do that. I can take you,”
Hardy said immediately.

“Have you and him got a thing going on?” Charles
asked.

“That has nothing to do with you, Charles
Taylor. In fact nothing about me has anything to do with you anymore.” I had no
idea where I had discovered this strength from.

“Delilah,” he started to say.

“No, Charles, I don’t want to hear it right
now. Just get out.” He looked at me, and then at Hardy, who was still standing
there in his briefs.

“I have to give it to you, Hardy, you
played a blinder this time.” Then he left the room.

“I’m proud of you,” Hardy said as he hugged
me.

“I’m proud of me too,” I said, galvanising
myself into action. I pulled on my dress. “Do you think there’ll be a problem
over you punching him?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care. First
things first, let’s concentrate on getting you home.”

*

Mama had been shocked after I told her
about the party when she’d got home from work that evening. She’d been relieved
after hearing my own minor part in it all, but surprised when I told her about
Hardy’s presence there. She’d been less surprised when I’d mentioned what Emily
had spent her time doing – leaving out some of the specifics from the
bedroom. I’d had only a brief text from Emily, who’d elected to stay at the
party with Jamie a little longer when Hardy and I went to find her to let her
know I was going home. The text had told me she’d arrived home safely, but that
was all.

“That girl’s in a hurry to grow up,” was
all Mama said after I gave her the sanitised version. “I’m just glad Hardy was
there to look after you. It sounds like it was a bit full on for a first party.”
I’d agreed, thinking she didn’t know the half of it.

Hardy had said little when he’d dropped me
home, leaving me no idea when or if I’d see him again. So when there was a
knock on the door the following morning, after Mama had left for work, I was
surprised. Hardy stood there looking anxious. I invited him in, stepping back
to allow him access, and my heart sped up just at the sight of him. I wished I’d
made more effort that morning instead of throwing on my old jeans and a
t-shirt. He ducked his head and stepped into the little room. For a moment he
just stood there as I shifted uncomfortably, uncertain what I was meant to do
next. Then he moved, pulling me into his arms, enfolding me. I heard myself
sigh with contentment. I thought it couldn’t get any better until he kissed me.
It was hungry and demanding, and I moaned a little as he pressed against me,
unable to think about anything other than how much my body yearned for him… how
this didn’t feel like enough. My hands slid up under his shirt and he groaned.

“Stop,” he said, pulling away, his
breathing laboured. “Not yet… it’s too soon. For you, I mean. I don’t want to
rush this. I want to wait until we’re sure it’s right. We have plenty of time.”
I couldn’t deny I was disappointed, but at least he wasn’t saying never. He
pressed his forehead against mine and rested it there for a moment. “Delilah,”
he breathed.

“I’m glad you came,” I said, shy now that the
passion between us had receded.

“I couldn’t stay away,” he admitted.

“Good. I’m glad you didn’t.” I smiled. When
he didn’t return it, I knew something was wrong. “What? What is it?”

“I need to tell you something…” Then he
confirmed my worst fears. “I have to go away.” I felt a physical pain in my
chest.

“Why? Why now?”

“Dad found out about the fight with Charles.
His parents complained. Turns out Charles has a fractured and dislocated jaw –
they weren’t impressed. He needs to have surgery. So they kicked me out of his
place, and his parents rang my dad. They were pissed because they had to cut
their summer holiday short and felt the need to take it out on someone. Dad
blew his top and wanted to know why I’d hit Charles. I didn’t want to tell him
about you, but I had no choice… nothing else made sense. Now he’s on the
rampage insisting I go to California. He says I’ve got to get my degree there
instead of Cambridge, and that I’m not to come anywhere near this place, or
you, until I’ve graduated, or he’ll disinherit me.” He looked devastated, and I
could only imagine I looked the same. I was gutted by his words, images of
happy coupledom disappearing over the horizon. I’d hoped to see more of him now
I’d finally found him again, not live apart for another three years.

“We can keep in touch,” I reassured him,
trying to find some sort of bright side to look on. “You can email and text
me.”

“And Facebook?”

“I’m not on Facebook. I barely even have
any numbers in my phone. But for you I’ll make an exception.”

“We’ll make it work, I promise,” he said,
hugging me again. I was powerless against his charms as soon as his arms went
round me.

“When do you leave?” I asked, afraid of the
answer.

“Tonight,” he muttered into my hair.

We spent the remainder of the time he had
holding each other, trying to fill the short time with three years’ worth of
kisses and touches. When he finally got up to leave he pressed a gentle kiss
onto my lips, making me promise one last time to wait for him, his eyes
beseeching. I happily agreed, enthralled, unable to imagine looking at, let
alone wanting, anyone but him.

“Why don’t you come with us?” Emily begged
me.

“I don’t want to,” I insisted.

“I swear to god you are going to have the
most boring teenage years in the history of man. Seriously, nuns have a more
exciting social life. You don’t do anything.”

“I’m happy,” I assured her, glancing down
at my phone. It was a serious habit I had, as I waited for some sort of contact
from Hardy. I hadn’t heard from him in nearly a week. He’d been getting
increasingly harder to get hold of. I’d told myself he was just caught up with
the holiday job he said he had, but it still hurt.

“You’ve just got three A’s in your A’ levels,
you’re a shoo-in for Cambridge, and you don’t even want to celebrate? What the
hell’s the matter with you?” I knew on some level that she was right, but I
didn’t have any desire to be out celebrating without Hardy. There had been an
outside chance, he had informed me a month or so ago, he might have been able
to get over this summer. When he hadn’t managed it I’d been gutted, and all desire
to do anything had left me. Instead I’d spent the summer moping about at home. Even
Ma had been worried about me.

“Really, I’ll just spoil your night,” I
told her. “You go on with the others. They don’t want me there anyway.”

“Only because you don’t make any effort
with them.”

“I’m not interested in what they want. Most
of the guys have asked me out at some point, and their girlfriends know it. It means
the guys think I’m standoffish or frigid and the girls assume I have to have been
secretly flirting with their boyfriends for them to have asked me out in the
first place. Even if, by some miracle, they don’t think that, they spend their
time telling me I’m mad for waiting for a guy who they say will never come back
for me. I’ve heard it all a million times, and I’m just not in the mood to hear
it again today.”

“That’s because you
are
mad. You’re
mental, living in cloud fucking cuckoo land.” She was pissed now.

“I don’t think I’m mental. I’m not going to
apologise for wanting to wait for Hardy. I’ve yet to meet a guy who has made me
feel half of what I felt for him in the short time we were together. He’s worth
the wait. I’m sorry things didn’t pan out for you and Jamie, or Sam, or Mike… ”
I couldn’t help the slightly snide tone in my voice as I began to list the
numerous guys that Emily had hooked up with over the last couple of years. I’d barely
even scratched the surface, but it was a bitchy thing to do. It wasn’t like me.

“Shut the fuck up,” Emily screeched at me.
“You’re so fucking holier than thou. Think you’re so much better than us
because you’ve got some rich boyfriend you’ve promised to wait for, when really
you’re a joke.”

“Why am I a joke?” I felt irritated by her
tone. “Just because I don’t want to sleep around? It’s my choice what I do with
my body, and I happen to think he’s worth waiting for.”

“Oh, give me a break, he’s no better than
the rest of them. Just ask Clarissa.”

“What do you mean ‘ask Clarissa’?” Clarissa
and I had crossed paths a couple of times since the summer I’d first met her. She’d
always been a bitch, but I’d just tried to ignore her jealousy. She’d never
forgiven me for Hardy dumping her.

“You should really get yourself on Facebook,
Delilah,” Emily said, on a roll now. “You said Hardy couldn’t come over this
summer because he had a summer job?”

“Yeah, what about it?” I had the feeling of
impending doom in my gut – knowing I was about to hurtle past the point of
no return and fearing what I would find there.

“Well, he sure made time for Clarissa when
she went over to see him, judging by the photos she posted. Didn’t look like
there was much in the way of work going on. It looked a lot like one of their
usual get-togethers. She was there for weeks. You’re a fool for believing him,
Delilah. He certainly hasn’t been waiting for you.”

“I don’t believe you,” I told her, my voice
trembling. She raised an eyebrow, reached for her iPad and pulled up her
Facebook page. A couple of clicks later, she held it out towards me. I didn’t
want to take it. I knew I could refuse and leave myself in ignorant bliss, but
part of me wanted to know the truth. I reached out and took it from her, finally
looking down at the page.

Clarissa’s beaming face smiled up at me,
accompanied by Hardy’s. He had his arm around her shoulder. He’d sent me a few
photos over the time we’d been apart, but none like this when he’d looked so happy.
I swiped the page to find the next image. It was captioned ‘reacquainting
myself with an old friend’. This time she was straddling him while he sat on a
chair. Her arms were around his neck and he was gazing up, grinning like a loon,
their groins pressed against each other. I could see various outlines of other
guys around the side of the room. I could guess exactly what was going on based
on what I’d seen at Charles’. I felt sick.

“I told you,” Emily said, smug now, “he’s
no better than any of them. I don’t know what you think you were doing waiting
for him.” She sounded pleased to see me tumble off my holier-than-thou
pedestal.

“Is she back?” I asked.

“Who?”

“Clarissa. Is she still in the States, or
is she back?” Just the fact he’d spent time with her but couldn’t spare any for
me hurt like hell. I needed to hear it from her what had happened.

“Yeah, she’s back, but you can’t be
thinking about going there, are you? She’ll eat you for breakfast.” She moved
to block my path.

“Get out of my way,” I insisted, dodging
round her to grab the keys to Ma’s car. I’d passed my test at the first attempt
last summer. I couldn’t afford my own car yet, but Ma let me borrow hers
whenever I wanted.

“Fucking hell,” Emily said, mouth agape as
I moved swiftly towards the door. “You’ve finally lost it.” But she grabbed her
bag and followed me out, excited by all the drama and clearly not wanting to
miss a minute. Drama that didn’t revolve around her for once.

When we pulled into the driveway I nearly
lost my nerve, intimidated once again by the overwhelming size of her house. The
car crunched to a halt in front of the steps and I was out and moving before
Emily had even unfastened her seat belt. I rang the doorbell before my courage
fled and waited. For a long while there was nothing, and then the door was
opened by a housekeeper, who looked upon us wearily. “Clarissa is beside the
pool,” she said, clearly assuming I was one of Clarissa’s hangers-on.

“Where’s the pool?” I asked. She looked at
me a little more closely before deciding she didn’t want to get involved and
merely pointed towards a walled area to the side of the house. I nodded my
thanks and headed to where she had indicated.

Clarissa was laid out on a sun lounger,
alone. She raised her sunglasses and peered at us as we clattered to a halt
beside her. I had to admit, despite disliking her intensely, she cut a fine
figure dressed in a scanty bikini, the entirety of her beautiful body out on
display. “Who are you and what do you want?” she finally said, sounding bored.

“Did you sleep with Hardy?”

“Who? Hardy Somerville?” I nodded, and she
rolled her eyes. “When?”

“Whilst you were in the States recently.”

“What’s it to you?”

“I want to know.”

She looked at me a little more closely. “I
remember you. You’re Hardy’s little singer. He mentioned you.”

“Did you sleep with him?” I demanded again.

“Sleeping usually has very little to do
with it, and frankly it has nothing to do with you whatever I did with
whomever.”

“If it was with Hardy, it does.” She
laughed, and that really pissed me off.

She sat up, looking annoyed. “Who do you
think you are? You’re just his little virgin tart. As I said, he mentioned you;
said he was waiting until you were an adult and then planned to have you as his
concubine – just like his father does with your mother. Thought it was
funny that they’d keep it in the family, so to speak.”

For a moment my mouth just opened and
closed, but nothing came out. I heard Emily gasp behind me. “What are you
talking about?” I managed to say.

“It’s one of the best known secrets in
town. I’m amazed no one’s ever told you.” I turned and looked at Emily, who
blushed, shuffled her feet and stared at the ground. Clarissa carried on
speaking: “Everyone knows your mother is Somerville Senior’s whore – at
his beck and call whenever and however he wants her. He even lends her out to
friends sometimes. It seems Hardy liked the idea and thought you were just the
ticket.” She laughed as if it were all a big joke, and I hated her a little
more than I already did. “I think it’s very droll you actually thought he felt
something for you. Now bugger off, please,” she said, replacing her sunglasses
and lying back down. “You’re blocking my sun.”

I’d heard enough. I turned and marched back
towards the car, Emily running to keep up with me. “Did you know?” I asked,
looking sideways at her. So much made sense, I didn’t doubt there was some
truth to what I’d heard; her long hours, the nights she’d left me alone to
return to his house… the sadness I’d always sensed within her. My heart broke,
knowing she’d done it for me. Emily was silent. “I asked whether you knew about
it.”

“I’d heard a rumour.”

“And you didn’t think I ought to know?”

“I didn’t think it was my place to tell
you. I thought your mum would say something to you at some point.”

“How long have you known?”

“How long?”

“Yes, how long?” I unlocked the driver’s
door and pulled it open angrily as I looked at her across the roof.

“Umm…”

“Jesus. I can’t be around you right now.” I
told her as I slid into the car. I didn’t unlock the other door.

“You can’t just leave me here,” she said,
hands on hips as she shouted at me through the closed window.

“I think you’ll find I can,” I said, winding
down the window an inch. I started the car and put it into gear, before leaning
towards her and saying; “I always knew you were a bitch, but I still thought
you were my friend. I thought, no matter how much you used me when it suited
you, that you had my back. I guess I was wrong. You let me walk into this. You
even showed me the pictures. You wanted this to happen. I think the walk home
will do you good… it’ll give you a chance to think about what a cow you really
are.”

As I left, I could see her still standing
there in the driveway with her hands on her hips, watching as I sped away. I
knew she couldn’t care less about my words, they would fall off her like the
proverbial water off a duck’s back. She’d be more concerned about missing the
next juicy instalment of my life falling apart.

I pressed my foot down hard on the
accelerator, taking the corners at speeds I had never driven in my life,
uncaring whether I lived or died in an accident. But someone somewhere must
have been looking out for me. The roads were quiet, and despite my recklessness
I found myself pulling into the driveway at home in half the time it had taken
to do the same journey earlier. I ignored the little parking space in front of
the cottage and screeched to a halt in front of the mansion.

For the second time that day I was out the
car and marching up the steps to the house before my courage could fail me. Mama
opened the door, and for a second we just looked at one another. “Oh, baby,”
she said, and I fell into her arms. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered into my hair
as I sobbed in a way I hadn’t since I was a small child. “I wanted to tell you
myself. I tried so many times.”

“Gaynor,” a voice came from behind her.
“Who is it? Who’s making all that noise?”

“Just Delilah. I’ll see her back to the
cottage. I’m sorry for the disturbance,” she said as she tried to back me away
from him.

“Why is she here?” he asked, refusing to be
put off, his tone demanding attention. My mother seemed momentarily lost for
words.

“She’s had some bad news,” she finally
managed to say.

“Don’t lie to me, Gaynor. You know I can always
tell when you’re lying. Let me see the girl. You’ve been hiding her from me for
long enough. If she knows the truth now I want to see her.” I cowered against
my mother, wishing I had waited for her at home instead of confronting her
here, unwilling to expose myself to him. “Now, Gaynor,” he commanded her this
time, and she immediately obeyed, pulling away. A small part of me died inside
when I realised just how deep a hold he must have on her to make her respond
like that… to make her hand me over to him. Reluctantly I took a small step
away from my mother, lifted my head with what I hoped resembled defiance, and
stared straight at him.

He’d aged since the last time our paths had
crossed. It must have been at least three years. His tall frame was slightly
stooped now, his shoulders more rounded than I remembered, but his gaze was as
piercing as ever. He stared at me for a moment. “Stunning,” he finally said. “I
can see why the boy wants her. I’m almost tempted to trade you in, Gaynor, and
have her myself.” Mama flushed, looking mortified as Mr Somerville laughed. My
own increased colour was a result of the anger I felt.