The Art of Keeping Faith Page 41

  Tears start to fall quicker and I brush them away. They don’t stop though.

  “What’s the matter, babe?” Meredith whispers.

  ”I wish Ben was here.”

  She does not say anything, but just gives my hand a little squeeze.

  After we have finished we walk back out into the glaring sunshine and try to locate Deathtrap Cooper.

  “Can I drive?” I ask.

  Meredith pulls a face and reluctantly hands over the keys. We are just heading back onto the A3 when I finally say what is on my mind.

  “Mer?”

  “Yep?”

  “Will you help me try and get Ben back?”

  She gives a little sigh and settles back, grinning at me from the passenger seat.

  “I’ve been waiting days for you to say that.”

  “I need to make a plan.” I say.

  “What plan?”

  “The Get Ben Back Plan.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I have no idea. That’s why I recruited you.”

  She muses on this for a moment.

  “Well first we need to get you integrated back into Uni. The more you act out of character the more people are going to notice. And then, before you know it, someone is going to guess and blab. You need to be the one to tell him Lil. I have a feeling he is going to hate himself for walking away.”

  “Mer, I’m not sure that if he finds out about baby it will change the way he feels about me. I just need him to know.”

  “Well we won’t know until we find him. So you need to come out a bit and be seen on campus. Just breathe in so no one notices the weight gain.”

  “What! How can I have put weight on?!”

  She eyes me up and down.

  “Well it’s not weight gain as such. It’s just your tits. They look bigger.”

  Such a way with words.

  “So I have to be seen on campus?”

  This thought is not appealing to me in the least. If I could hide for the next seven weeks, I would.

  “Yes starting tonight, we are going out.”

  “Ooooh but, Mer, I am soooo tired.”

  She turns and gives me a stern look.

  “Lilah, you do realise you are going to have a baby? This is not tiredness. This is just mild fatigue.”

  I have nothing to say to this, so I stick my tongue out instead.

  Froebel Bar

  So this is how I find myself at Froebel bar at seven-thirty on a Friday night, instead of at home snuggled up on the sofa in my pyjama’s, with my friend Google open on my lap, participating in some serious Ben stalking.

  Tristan has come along for moral support, which is probably a good thing because Meredith is drinking all the alcoholic beverages that people are unwittingly buying me. She has already had two large wines and her eyes are looking a little glassy—we’ve only been here for half an hour.

  Beth and Jayne are ecstatic that we are all out together. They still seem to be in best friend mode, which is good news. I am not sure I could cope with any more drama right now.

  Barbie is here, but she’s right over the over side of the bar which was a relief because I do not have to worry about punching her. Richard’s over there with her, along with some of the other football players.

  That is also a good thing. I was not sure I could handle another awkward date related conversation with Rich. He seems to be getting over his break up with Fiona very well. That’s nice.

  I wish I could show everyone my scan picture. It’s burning a hole in my purse where I’ve hid it amongst six months’ worth of receipts. I showed Tristan the Arse earlier before we came out, the conversation went like this:

  “Look it’s my baby.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “No look, you are not looking properly.”

  “I am looking, Lilah, I am not sure what you want me to say.”

  “Tell me it’s beautiful.”

  “Um, it’s beautiful.”

  “Look at it’s cute fingers.”

  “Mm, lovely.”

  “Look at it’s cute toes,”

  “Mm, even lovelier.”

  “Oh sod off Tristan you really are a complete Arse. You are never allowed to touch my baby, ever.”

  Half an hour later

  Meredith is having problems sitting up straight and keeps shouting at Trev behind the bar to put some “tunes” on.

  This is definite Lilah-behaviour. I am going to have to start keeping a close eye on her.

  Trev keeps shouting back that she is two hours too early and she should learn to pace herself.

  Ha.

  We are all gathered around and have started making the Ben Plan.

  It’s become clear that Ben is not talking to anyone, not Beth, not Tristan, and we all know that he is definitely not talking to me. This makes creating a plan interesting.

  Another problem with the plan is that everyone else is so drunk they haven’t come up with one useful idea. I still have a plan though.

  The Plan

  Sound Box is supposed to be playing the Isle of Wight Festival. This was always their plan and one of the reasons why Ben thought he would be home with me for the summer. I am going to go to that damn festival and climb on that stage if it means he will notice me.

  I am going to write my book—okay I know this is going to take some time and our child will probably be at school by the time I’ve finished but I am going to do it, just like I always planned. I am going to write down every moment of our time together in the vain hope that one day, far off in the future, he may read it and realise that I truly did love him even if I was too much of an arse to show it.

  Worst-case scenario—I will ring Ben’s mum. I really don’t want to do this. I want to talk to Ben, and tell him. Not his mum.

  At the moment I feel the Isle of Wight is the strongest section on my plan. If I can just get myself in front of him then I can get him to listen to me, and that will at least be a start.

  I don’t expect him to take me back. I am pretty sure that Ben and Lilah no longer exist. If we did I would have heard from him by now. This separation would be causing him as much hurt as it is me. But I haven’t. Still, regardless of the end outcome I still need to tell him the truth and I still need to tell him that I am sorry.

  That’s all there is to it.

  Me: I have never missed you more than I have today. You should have been there.

  10th May

  Ben: Nothing

  Oh bugger it, I have got to go to work. The good news is that I can now go to work without the fear of being sick. I haven’t been sick for an entire twenty-four hours. This is mighty impressive and a dramatic improvement. I am putting it down to the stern talk I had with the baby after the scan yesterday.

  You don’t make me sick and I promise to eat properly. There, you can’t say fairer than that.

  Who said parenting was hard?

  Ten minutes later

  “What on earth are you doing?” I ask.

  Meredith is face down on the couch wearing last night’s clothes.

  “I have no idea.”

  “Have you been there all night?”

  “I think so, my neck really hurts.”

  She rolls over to face me and I burst out laughing.

  “You’re going to be in so much shit. You have got mascara all over the sofa.”

  She looks down and grimaces before clutching her head.

  “Crap.”

  “I’d say.”

  “Remember when this was you?” she winces.

  “Yep, and I don’t miss it at all.” It’s true, I don’t miss it one bit. But that could be because I have been violently ill for the last few weeks.

  “You are looking very bright this morning,” she says clutching her head again.

  “Yep, I am feeling it. I have a plan.”

  “Oh, yeah. Did we make one?”

  “No, but I did.”

  “And?”

  �
�I’ll tell you later,” I say before heading into the kitchen to see if I can find anything edible.

  “Have you texted him again?” she calls after me.

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “I know. Me neither.”

  I don’t have time to worry about the lack of text responses. I just need to find a way to see him face to face, wherever he may be. The information is more of a standing face-to-face and delivering life changing news moment, as opposed to a text convo. I need to work out how to get tickets to the Isle of Wight.

  Me: I have a plan. Are you ready for it?

  11th May

  Ben: Nothing

  Work sucked. We were stupidly busy and I am pretty sure Baz hates me because of it.

  My appetite is back with a vengeance and I had to keep nipping out to buy chocolate bars and packets of crisps. I have a month’s worth of not eating to make up for. I gave it a good shot yesterday.

  Richard came in at about eleven-thirty and sheepishly asked if I was taking a lunch break. Baz snorted something along the lines of the fact that I had been on an all-day lunch break because I was a greedy pig, but eventually nodded that I could go. At that time we had one group of smelly teenagers making a racket with the instruments so he felt he could handle the situation. I was trying to discreetly shake my head at Baz so he would not let me go, but he did not read my signs. I was not in the mood to be asked out by Richard again, for the third time in a week. Yes, that’s right. He interrupted my plan, scheming at Froebel bar last night, as he staggered over to me completely smashed and attempted to ask me out again. I didn’t even get to say anything. Tristan planted himself right in front of me, like an over protective bodyguard and growled a “No,” at him.

  At lunch today Tristan was not in sight, so in the end I followed a very subdued Richard out into the street. He turned the moment we were through the door and put his hands on my shoulders.

  “Lilah, I am so sorry,” he blurted out.

  My eyes narrowed automatically.

  “Sorry for what exactly?”

  “For the fact that I keep bloody asking you out, it is embarrassing. I don’t know what it wrong with me.”

  “Well thanks that makes it so much better.”

  He smiled a little.

  “You know what I mean. Will you come and have a coffee with me?”

  I hesitated, because I wanted to say no. I have way too much other stuff on my plate at the moment, but I felt guilty about all the times he had been there to help me. “Sure, why not?”

  So I did. It was okay but I don’t feel as comfortable around him as I used to. That makes me a little sad because this whole year he has been such a good friend, like a complete rock that I have relied on far more than I should have. But now there is this uncomfortable distance between us, and I don’t like it at all. I am going to try and fix it. I have lost enough people of late—well one, but one is enough.

  Yesterday Richard told me that when I was with Ben and he was with Fiona he felt like we were in a ‘Love Square.’ I have no idea what one of those is. I have heard of triangles before, but never a square.

  He explained that he meant that we both had our own lives but also had a strong relationship of our own and that he was sorry if he had ruined it with his behaviour of the last couple of months. Not just the date requests, but the snogging Barbie and all of it.

  He told me he’d been in a bad place and had been acting a bit crazy. I of all people should be able to sympathise with that. I felt really sorry for him and told him that we should just forget it all and pick up being friends again.

  We ended on a high and as he walked me back to the shop it felt much more normal between us. He even asked if I wanted to go for a jog, I declined the jog, but said I would be up for a gentle amble, followed by coffee and pastries.

  He winked at me and told me that just because I no longer have a boyfriend I should not let myself go completely.

  Bloody cheek.

  Right. I had better get the laptop out and start Googling quick.

  I am sure I should be studying for my final exams and essays but right now Ben stalking is far more important.

  Later

  Nothing. Not one sighting, not one pervy comment on Dirty Bitches R’ Us.

  Fuck it.

  Me: Do you believe in love squares? I don’t. I just believe in you and me. I wish I had told you.

  12th May

  Ben: Nothing

  “So you’ve all watched Gone with the Wind in preparation for today’s lecture?”

  Cue studious doodling from yours truly. Of course I haven’t bloody watched it. I am pregnant and hormonal and spend all of my time crying—watching a day long film about two people who fall in love and then back out of love is not going to be helpful to me right now.

  Pilchard casts his beady eye over the room, resting on me briefly. I hold my breath and he passes on, but that could be that he can read my doodle which says “don’t pick me, don’t pick me,” in big bold letters.

  Or it could be that he is actually a nice person?

  Nah.

  The class proceeds to spend the next two hours going over the film I have not watched in the finest detail. I dozed off for a while but Richard woke me up with a hard jab to the ribs.

  To be honest the film does not sound all bad. I may even watch it one day when I am not so emotionally challenged.

  That will be never then.

  As we are leaving Pilchard reminds us all that next week is the surprise film that the exam is going to be based on.

  Hurrah.

  I can’t wait.

  Me: Even Taylor doesn’t have a song for this? Do you? I miss you.

  13th May

  Ben: Nothing

  I am back in my old hang out. The Library. It’s actually crammed with students all desperately studying in the run up to essay deadlines and final exams.

  There are two types of students not studying.

  1. The Fresher’s. They are all out on the lawn in the sunshine drinking beer and playing football.

  2. Me. I am not coming back and studying is even further down my priority list than usual. I will do my essays and I will sit the exams, but I can pretty much guarantee that my answers will be half-hearted and not particularly concise.

  The only reason I am in the library in the first place is because I am hiding. I am hiding from Meredith who is trying to talk me into another driving lesson and who has also started banging on about me reading the baby book she bought me the other day. I am also hiding from my laptop because my Ben stalking obsession is starting to take control and I spend most of my time at home sitting in my room pretending to study but really scouring the Internet and checking Facebook every, ooh, thirty seconds.

  After an hour of staring at the books and doodling I know that even I cannot waste much more time lurking around my study desk.

  Because I am a conscientious student, I tidy away my books that I had no intention of studying, or even opening for that matter. Plus if I spend the time individually putting the books away one by one I will waste at least another half an hour before I leave the library which will mean the driving lesson won’t happen because it will be rush hour and I would not inflict that on anyone.

  I have just dropped my last book on the floor and am scrambling around under the desk trying to pick it up when I hear footsteps approach.

  There is a girly infectious giggle and I freeze and scoot back further under the desk. The giggle sounds fake and plastic, which means it can only belong to one person.

  I don’t really know why I am hiding. I just don’t think I have the self-confidence to participate in a put-down slamming match with Miss Plastic right now. Not with my spots, the lank, greasy hair that still won’t wash properly, and my supposedly over-large boobs, kindly pointed out to me by my best friend.