Part 29 (2/2)

This is a difficult conversation and it becomes almost impossible when I get to the bit where I snogged Bella. Laura's intelligent, she wouldn't believe me if I said it had been solely the result of too much alcohol and, besides, that isn't true. On the other hand, I don't want to give the impression that I am still infatuated with Bella.

'Who did you bring here? Me or her?' Laura asks suddenly.

'You. I brought you. I didn't want to bring Belinda, Bella. That was your idea.'

'More fool me.'

'You're no fool.'

'I am. I b.l.o.o.d.y am.' Laura looks away and I catch the grief and regret in her face, just punishment for what I've done.

'When I first came to Vegas I didn't want to start anything up.' My voice cracks and squeaks reflecting how important the clarity of this explanation is to me. 'The opposite. I wanted to draw a firm line under everything between me and Bella. I wanted to end it.' My breath stumbles in my chest, making it difficult for me to breathe, I so want Laura to believe me. I so want my explanation to add up.

'I was having such a marvellous time. I thought we were falling in love but all along you were hankering after an old flame. How is that possible?' asks Laura, miserable and confused. 'You've ruined everything. p.i.s.sed on everything. This hasn't been our story. It hasn't been about our beginning. Even if I believe you, this is Bella's and your end.'

'It can be both things.'

'No, it can't.'

Laura stood up, zipped her suitcase and walked towards the door. 'I've booked my own room for tonight. I imagine it goes without saying but I won't be staying for the final. I'm going to try to change my ticket so that I can fly back tomorrow.' She glances around the room. 'If I've forgotten anything post it to me. I don't want to see you ever again, Stevie. Do you understand? I never want to see you again.'

The door bangs behind her. A dull, definitive bang.

46. I'm Leavin'.

Sat.u.r.day 10th July, 2004.

Laura.

I spent the night crying. Not only is it traditional but it's also my due. I cannot believe the scale of the deceit that has been played out in front of me. I called the travel agent and the airport and got my ticket transferred so that I could fly home today. After sobbing and pleading and 'holding the line' for over an hour, it was confirmed that I can fly home today as long as I'm prepared to transfer in Amsterdam. I'd transfer in Timbuktu if it was a speedy way to exit this h.e.l.lhole. I call Amelie to tell her my change of plan.

'Why are you coming home early? Have you had a row with Stevie? Is everything OK?' she asks. I almost melt at hearing her concern ooze down the telephone line. I am so glad that I have sensible Amelie to comfort and help me. I can't wait to curl up on her comfy, squashy settee and spill out my news. I can already imagine her outrage on my behalf.

'You wouldn't believe me if I told you,' I reply.

'I think I might,' she sighs.

There's something in her tone, sad acceptance perhaps, that makes me ask, 'You know?'

'Yes.'

'How do you know?'

'I've known all along.'

I hang up. Amelie knows, she knew all along. Amelie, who is decent and honourable and I thought was my friend, was part of this foul sham and she didn't think to tell me, to warn me. She is not decent, or honourable, or a friend. I am so alone. Once again, I have no one to turn to and I am so sick of having to stand on my own two feet.

I don't call Oscar to tell him that I'm coming home early. I still have a smidgen of pride and I can't bring myself to admit to him that the man I've been dating, who I thought was the man of my dreams, was actually my best friend's husband. I'll leave Eddie with him until Monday as planned, even though I ache to wrap my arms round my little boy. I know that I'll be comforted by the smell of his hair and skin and the warmth of his clumsy, casual hugs.

The thought of my journey home is depressing. I had imagined that by the time Stevie and I flew back to England we would be sweet as. We would sit back in our comfy, up-front seats, sipping free champagne, confident in the knowledge that we had exchanged promises of love. Do I ever learn? I know it's dangerous to project. So what was I thinking of when I allowed myself to indulge in fantasies where Stevie and I would drive to Oscar's to pick up Eddie? I'd taken great pleasure in imagining Oscar's face as I introduced him to Stevie. I confess I got a certain amount of satisfaction envisaging my average ex, shaking hands with my gorgeous present. That'll learn me! I'd been especially excited antic.i.p.ating the pleasure on Eddie's face as he unwrapped the mountain of pressies that Stevie and I have chosen for him. Now, I'm not even certain where those pressies are, I left Stevie's room in such a hurry.

Stevie's room.

Because it doesn't feel like mine any more. In fact, the truth of the matter is, nothing is mine. Nothing ever was. Bella wasn't my friend and Stevie wasn't my boyfriend he's Bella's husband, so even the memories aren't mine.

My head aches with lack of sleep and excessive bawling. My eyes sting and my throat is raw. I am famished, yet I feel sick when I try to eat. I can't think how to fill my day. Stevie and I had talked about sightseeing. We were going to do either the Hoover Dam or the Grand Canyon. I guess I could go on my own but I can't rally. I have a lifetime of doing things on my own ahead of me. I don't see the rush.

I don't want to sunbathe, or drink, or gamble. Vegas truly is a desert.

I sit in the lobby cafe and sip coffee. I buy myself an enormous slice of carrot cake but don't touch it. Yesterday, I walked past the cafe several times and coveted the delicious cakes stashed behind the gla.s.s counter. Stevie and I had promised to indulge ourselves on the way home from last night's gig. We'd thought that the cream icing and the light sponge would be perfect for soaking up the champagne that we would have drunk. How can things change so dramatically in such a short s.p.a.ce of time? One minute, so close it's almost impossible to know where one person's dreams, thoughts and laughter start and the other's end, then the next total strangers.

'Hi, Laura, I've been looking for you.'

'Oh G.o.d, that's all I need. Bella Edwards, or should I call you Belinda McDonnel?' I say without turning to face her. She slips on to the stool in front of me.

I'm surprised she's hunted me down. Clearly, she's underestimated my murderous feelings towards her. I kind of admire her audacity for meeting me face-to-face; on the other hand after hearing of her antics over the last eight years, and in particular the last few months, her audacity can't be hyped.

'I wanted to talk to you.'

'Bit late.' I force myself to look at her. She's blus.h.i.+ng, furiously. Good. Hope she spontaneously combusts.

After about two billion years of silence Bella drags her gaze to meet mine. b.u.g.g.e.r me, she looks awful. Good. I wasn't the only one who didn't get a decent night's kip. I've never, ever seen her look so dog rough. My first instinct is to feel sorry for her and then I remember how much I hate her. I wonder what Phil has made of her frolics? Poor man, he's in a worse position than I am. Maybe I should call him. We could appear on one of those awful daytime TV programmes together.

'Shouldn't you be talking to Phil?' I ask.

'Yes.' Her hands are shaking. I watch as she tips three sugars into her coffee. Normally she doesn't take sugar. 'I really wanted to talk to him last night but he couldn't face it.'

'Well, you're no longer the one calling the shots are you?'

'No, I'm not,' she admits. 'We've an appointment, at noon, to talk.'

'How very civilized,' I mutter.

I think back to the night before. I thought I'd reached new levels of maturity when I'd only flung insults and expletives at Stevie. If I'd been in my own apartment, or his, I would have flung an entire dinner service, lamps, books, you name it. As it was, nearly everything in THE Hotel is pinned down or prohibitively expensive to replace. How can Phil and Bella be so grown-up that they pre-book their rows? Doesn't Phil want to wring her scrawny neck?

'I'm sorry I've ruined everything for you and Stevie,' says Bella. 'I never wanted to.'

'How do you know you have?' I demand. 'Maybe we're going to muddle through.' I don't think this for a nanosecond but I don't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she's ruined my life.

'I saw Stevie this morning. He seems to think things between you are pretty bleak.' I glare daggers. How dare she sit there and add insult to injury? Where does she get off on telling me she's still having cosy little one-to-ones with Stevie? Hasn't she done enough damage?

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