Part 29 (1/2)

'There's never a dull moment around you two, I'll say that for you,' says Neil. His eyes are twinkling. 'I best be on my way. Likely as not, you've a bit of explaining to do, Bel-Girl.'

And so he shuffles off, leaving me alone with Philip.

44. Heartbreak Hotel.

Philip.

I'd guessed. About eighteen minutes before the bra.s.sy compere confirmed the status quo, I'd guessed that there was something between Bella and Stevie. I hadn't thought they were married. No. No, that was too much for my imagination to conjure. But as I'd watched Bella watch Stevie sing 'Are You Lonesome Tonight?' I'd reached the conclusion that they were probably going at it like rabbits behind Laura's and my backs.

Sorry to be vulgar. But it throws a man, somewhat, hearing that his wife is a bigamist. Quite an a.s.sault on my dignity, I think most would agree. And needless to say there's the little fact that my life has been s.n.a.t.c.hed away. My being crushed.

'Get your wrap, Bella,' I instruct. She does so without argument or attempting an explanation. For this, at least, I'm grateful. I'd rather we played out the rest of our drama in private. I wait for her to return to the table with her wrap. For a fleeting moment I consider there's a real possibility that she won't return. Bella has a history of walking away from problems. An extensive history, from what I can gather. She does, however, reappear at my side. She looks tiny and transparent as she hovers waiting to catch my attention. Which is ironic, no? The one thing she's definitely not, is transparent. I finish my whisky, as I antic.i.p.ate a need to fortify myself, and then we thread our way through the tables to the exit and catch a cab back to the hotel.

45. My Baby Left Me.

Stevie.

Laura can really move. She'd slipped through the crowds and outside into a waiting taxi within moments of Neil Curran's horrendous revelation. I try, but miserably fail, to keep up with her. What is it with me and women slipping from my grasp at the final of the annual European King of Kings Tribute Artist Convention and Compet.i.tion? Except, this time, I know that Laura didn't so much slip from my grasp. The most charitable description is that I carelessly dropped her some would say I flung her away. I tell myself not to make flip comments about deja vu, not even to myself, it's mindless and disrespectful. I deserve this lousy predicament but Laura doesn't.

I run back to the hotel I might move faster on foot than she will in a cab and maybe I can head her off, although I'm not sure what I can say or do to fix this situation. Belinda was right she's finally started to talk some sense this whole crazy episode has been a diversion but it's not real. When I said that stuff to Belinda in the diner I was talking idiotic, indulgent c.r.a.p. It's not as though I thought of her every day for years and years. If we hadn't come on this holiday together I wouldn't have thought of kissing her and I wouldn't have missed kissing her. But I'm missing Laura already.

Laura's taxi beats me back to the hotel and by the time I push open the door to our suite, she's packing.

'Don't go,' I plead.

'f.u.c.k off,' she says. Neat, succinct, to the point. 'You miserable, lying b.a.s.t.a.r.d,' she adds, in case there was any need for clarity.

'Laura, please. I am so sorry.' I rush towards her, but she backs away, glaring.

Her patent disgust turns me to stone. I decide against trying to put my arms around her, instead I drop into a chair in the corner of the bedroom. For some minutes I am silent, trying to gather my thoughts. In the meantime she dashes around the room, grabbing knickers off the floor and tiny tops from drawers. She bundles them into her case, not giving a thought to creasing. At this rate she might have moved out before I've built a compelling defence. What am I talking about? She might have married someone she hasn't even met yet before I build a reasonable defence. I start blathering, all I have as a vindication might not be too compelling or reasonable, because even the truth exposes me as an a.r.s.e, but I have to try.

'I am so, so sorry.' I sound like Bella. 'I didn't mean to hurt you.' That old cliche. 'I didn't plan any of this. It just sort of happened.' I sound pathetic to me too.

'What sort of happened?' screams Laura. 'You stupid w.a.n.ker. Are you saying you sort of married my best mate? I'm right, aren't I? You are married to my best friend?'

'Technically,' I admit.

'A bona fide, full on, one hundred b.l.o.o.d.y per cent commitment.'

'Yes.'

'f.u.c.k! It's one up on an affair. You almost make Oscar look like a good guy.'

'Sorry.'

'But Bella is married to Philip.' The good news is Laura has stopped packing. Her outrage at the complex state of affairs has, at least, distracted her from that.

'Not technically.'

'How long have you been married?'

'Erm, eleven years, I suppose.'

'Holy f.u.c.k. An eternity. But it was one of those pa.s.sport marriages or something, right?'

I can hear the hope in her voice. I wish I could justify it. 'No.'

'You b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Are you saying it's a love match?'

'Yes. Was. It was.'

'I hate you,' she says. Simple enough.

'Please, please let me explain, Laura.' I jump up from my seat and move towards her. 'This is why you and I had such a slow start. I was trying to find a way to describe my weird marital status. I wanted to tell you on the very first night. I tried to but you didn't let me you rushed ahead with your own a.s.sumptions.'

'Don't you dare try to blame this on me, you t.w.a.t.'

'No, no, I'm not trying to blame you. Of course I'm not.'

I can't help but notice how determined and confident Laura is. I've seen flashes of this in her before and I've always found it attractive. I know it's an inapt thought but I find I'm turned on by the fact that she's giving me a hard time and fighting her corner with such steely fort.i.tude. I can't help but admire her. Not that it will do me any good. I realize the time for my cas.h.i.+ng in on admiration for Laura is long gone. I've blown this. I have no chance of winning her back. I daren't even hope for that. Right now, I just want to apologize.

'And that bogan drongo said you were acting like a couple of lovebirds today. What did he mean?'

'We b.u.mped into him at a diner.'

'You've been rooting us both all along?' Her disgust whips me.

'No! For a time I got muddled and last night I kissed Belinda. We needed to talk about it so we met up today.'

'You've been kissing who?'

'Bella. She was called Belinda when I knew her. She changed her name.'

'That scheming b.i.t.c.h.'

'Please let me explain,' I implore. I don't know how it happened but I'm on my knees, prostrate in front of Laura, literally begging for a chance. This might seem ridiculous considering I'm wearing a skin-tight, sky-blue, catsuit, but I don't have much right to dignity at this precise moment in time.

'Explain,' instructs Laura.

It's the first time, since Neil Curran's revelation, that she's said something to me without feeling the need to cuss or yell. I see this as progress of sorts. Laura flops on the edge of the bed. She looks so miserable, lost and wounded. Again this is something I have caught a glimpse of in the past. Occasionally, when Laura has talked about Oscar and how badly he let her down I've seen the same expression of sorrow flicker across her face. I used to burn with fury against a man I'd never met because he'd hurt Laura. Watching her pain now is about a million times worse because I know I caused this. More than anything I want her pain to stop.

I present the facts of Belinda's and my story as fairly and honestly as I can. I take care not to imply that the entire sorry mess is Bella's fault and take full responsibility for my part in it. I make a big blunder when I point out that I've always been uncomfortable with the situation and only backed Bella's plan because Laura had begged me to give her friend a chance.

'You lousy sod! I said that without any knowledge of the actual situation. You're a pathetic b.a.s.t.a.r.d, trying to offload this c.r.a.p on me.' Spot on.