The Unfinished Symphony of You and Me (24 page)

An hour later I felt really quite drunk but my anxiety had not diminished in the slightest. I talked to people but couldn’t hear what they were saying. When the presents had been exchanged I’d opened one containing a massive tacky yellow ring and I’d not even been able to laugh as I’d slid it on to my finger.

Julian and Fiona were still in a club of two that nobody else was invited to. Only now the club was convening in full view of everyone: they stood on the side terrace overlooking Manhattan, huddled in a corner, exchanging jokes and stories that apparently were relevant only to them. People tried to talk to them and soon left. Fiona was visibly wasted, draped against Julian, uncoordinated, either shrieking noisily or whingeing about Raúl.

Barry was being extra nice to me and even told me at one stage that I looked ‘slim’. It was a bad sign.

After struggling on for an hour or so he gave in. ‘Look, Chicken,’ he began nervously. I tensed. ‘You don’t think he –’

I looked at him sharply. ‘What?’

‘Well, Chicken, it’s just the old drugs business, you
know. I’m just wondering if you think he … might be, you know …’

‘Supplying drugs to Fiona? Of course not!’

Barry nodded soothingly. ‘Yeah, of course not. Anyway, good turn-out, is it not, Chicken?’

‘Why do you think he’s giving her drugs?’

‘Well,’ Barry began, ‘just, you know …’

‘I don’t know. Tell me.’

‘Well, just that he was involved in some drugs thing. Around the time his wife died.’

The world stopped turning for a moment.

‘What?’ I stared at Barry. ‘WHAT DO YOU MEAN?’

Barry dragged me away from the others to the back terrace. Out of nowhere, Bea appeared. ‘You told her?’ she demanded of Barry. He nodded. Bea tutted and handed me some wine, which I didn’t take. Instead she patted my arm as if that would soothe me.

‘STOP HIDING THINGS FROM ME,’ I hissed. It was almost beyond comprehension that they could have been carrying knowledge that would alter my life yet were only telling me now.

Bea affected an expansive Italian shrug. ‘Julian was involved in a
grande
scandal, I heard,’ she said. ‘People say his wife died in it. It involved drugs.’

I held on to the table. ‘What do you mean, a scandal involving drugs?’

‘I do not know the details, darling. I know only what I tell you.’

‘But
how do you know
?’

‘Please try to be calm, Sally. I know because Fiona told me. Raúl told her. Maybe it is all a big mistake!’

I swayed, sick and dizzy.

‘But, my darling, I confess I have my doubts about Julian. It is obvious that he does not
take
the drugs, no?’

I agreed, with a distracted nod. Julian was clearly not taking drugs. Bea was right on that point.

‘My problem is this,’ Bea continued. ‘Julian owns a paper that only a few people buy. Think about this paper. He does not receive many advertisements. Is it not strange that he has enough money to own a big apartment on Mulberry Street? That he takes you out for dinner? That he wears these expensive clothes?’

‘What do you mean, an apartment on Mulberry? He lives in Brooklyn! He rents a room from a woman with a dog called Pam!’

‘Ah,’ Bea said. ‘You did not know about the apartment.’

‘Because there isn’t one!
Is there?
’

Bea patted my arm again. ‘Perhaps he wanted to surprise you with it one day,’ she said reassuringly.

‘No!’ I cried shrilly. ‘You’ve got it wrong! His clothes aren’t expensive … they’re
a mess
!’ They were. He wore T-shirts. Sometimes shirts with jumpers over them. He looked classic, reasonably fashionable, sometimes scruffy. He didn’t look expensive. And he most definitely didn’t look like a drug dealer, if that was what she meant.

Bea shook her head. ‘They
are
expensive clothes,’ she told me. ‘Trust Bea. She knows her designers. It is not all cufflinks and tapered trousers, Sally. His jeans that he wears tonight. Where are they from?’

I was bewildered. ‘I have no idea. Gap?’

Bea laughed, but it was hollow. ‘No, my
tesoro
. They are from Gucci. They cost five hundred dollars.’

‘But that’s not
that
much, I mean –’

‘Sally, he has four different pairs of these jeans alone. I see these things. Tonight he wears a shirt from Armani. His jumper is Phillip Lim. Julian does not iron his clothes and he does not mend them when they get holes. But they are beautiful items of great value.’

‘
This is just bullshit!
’ I cried desperately. ‘Why are you trying to make me suspicious?’

Bea smiled sadly. ‘Oh, darling, you already are suspicious. Bea is just telling you what she knows. She wants you to have all of the facts.’

‘No. No no no.’

‘I do not know anything for sure, darling,’ Bea said softly. ‘Maybe Bea is wrong.’

My heart was hammering and I sat down quickly on a chair before I fell. Julian was not a drug dealer. He was
not
a drug dealer. I twiddled the manky ring round my finger.

Was he?

‘No,’ I said, decisively. ‘Thank you, Bea, I know you’re looking out for me but I’m just not having it. There’s no way on earth Julian’s a drug dealer. His wife must have left him money.’

‘She had nothing when she died.’ Bea had begun to speak rather quickly.

‘No! I don’t believe it! Thank you, but –’ I stopped. ‘Why didn’t you say any of this before?’ I asked her.

Bea held my gaze. ‘I find out today,’ she said, her calm ever so slightly ruffled. ‘I talked to Fiona. She told me about Julian’s wife. She did not know more than I have told you. And then afterwards I began to think about Julian and his lifestyle. Something is not right.’

A dull block of pain opened in my chest, pressing on my lungs.
Everything
about Julian Bell was right. It had been the easiest, most beautiful month of my life, being here with him. He was my perfect man. He couldn’t be a lie! He was warm, he was generous. He kissed the tips of my ears and scrunched my bottom and smiled right into the centre of me when he woke up in the mornings.

No. I wasn’t listening to Bea’s paranoid bullshit any more. She was probably just bored because she wasn’t shagging anyone.

I pulled myself up on Bambi legs to go and find my man. I would disprove Bea’s theory and reclaim Julian. I would enjoy being his girlfriend. I would enjoy our last few hours together.

As I rounded the corner, I saw Julian take something from Fiona. A small piece of cardboard, folded up into a miniature envelope. I stopped breathing. Fiona was thrusting it at him with gay abandon, but Julian looked extremely nervous. He snatched it and shoved it into his pocket. I felt as if someone had turned off my oxygen.

Julian suddenly caught sight of me. ‘Hey!’ he said, his face stretching into an uncomfortable smile. His finger brushed along the ridge in his pocket created by the miniature envelope. ‘Let me go and get you a drink, my favourite Sallyface.’ He kissed my frozen cheek and strode inside, leaving me with my cousin.

‘All righ’, Sal,’ Fiona said vaguely. She was seriously wasted but more friendly than earlier. I moved over and stood next to her at the railing.

‘Hi.’

‘You OK, babe?’ she asked.

I could feel her watching me. ‘What were you and Julian just doing? With that … that thing?’

Fiona looked anxious. ‘It’s not what you think, Sally,’ she slurred. She grabbed my hand and pulled me closer to explain. I smelt the sharp, ugly vodka fumes and something chemical coming from her. ‘
Pleeeeease
don’t get all serious on me. Everyone’s having fun, OK? I’ll explain …’

She sounded like a cartoon drunk.

I pulled my arm free and looked her in the eye. ‘I don’t want to hear your explanation. I don’t believe
anything
you say any more.’ My voice was heavy with anger. ‘You just shared drugs with my boyfriend. I saw you with my own eyes. I … How
could you
?’

She shook her head manically. ‘No no no! You’ve got it wrong. Come for a little walk and let me explain.’ She dragged me into a corner of the terrace, tripping over a chair leg and smacking into the wall.

‘For Christ’s sake, will you be careful,’ I said tightly. It was a very long way to the ground from there.

‘Sally, I’ve decided to sort myself out,’ she began. A waitress handed her another vodka. It must have been at least a double, but she knocked it back in three agonizing gulps, watching Raúl as she did so.

‘Yeah, I’ve decided to sort myself out,’ she repeated laboriously. ‘And Julian …’ She scrunched up her face nervously, trying to work out what to say. ‘Hmm, how to put this. Well, he …’ I’d already heard enough. I turned to go, but once again she pulled me back. ‘
No
, Sally, let’s talk. I miss you – you’ve been so busy with Julian and work.’

‘Don’t. Don’t put it all on me,’ I cried. ‘I’ve tried to be
there for you. My God, I’ve tried, Fiona. Every day for almost your whole life.’

Fiona’s face crumpled with drunken remorse. ‘You’ve been so lovely,’ she murmured. ‘I love you so much.’ She tried to hug me but I pushed her away. She started crying. ‘Sally, I’m trying,’ she cried. ‘I want to be better – I don’t want to be like this. I don’t want to be such a burden on you. I detest myself for –’ she swept an arm out ‘– for all this. For everything I am.’

I felt exhausted. I had heard this time after time.

The truth was that Fiona couldn’t sort herself out. She was a hopeless case. In England I was going to gather Bea and Barry for an emergency meeting and we were going to Call Frank, or whatever you did these days and find out about rehab. I couldn’t take care of her any more and she couldn’t take care of herself.

‘Please,’ Fiona pleaded. ‘Talk to me.’

‘OK. I want you to change your mind about staying in New York. I want you to fly back to London with us, and get proper help. Rehab,’ I said flatly.

‘What? Oh, Sally, it’s not
that
bad! I just need to stop buying silly drugs! And stop drinking for a while!’

‘I don’t agree. You need proper help, and I can’t give it to you.’

Fiona looked appalled. ‘Please, Sally!’ she whispered. A fleck of spit landed on my eyebrow. ‘I know I need to stop but … You can’t send me away to some shithole full of drug addicts!’

‘I’ve run out of other options,’ I said dully. ‘
You
’ve run out of other options, more to the point.’ All I could think about was the packet in Julian’s pocket. What it meant for
me, and the rest of my life. A life that could no longer include him.

Fiona, cornered, started to fight. ‘Well, you’re a fine one to talk,’ she said shakily. ‘Your life isn’t exactly
perfect
.’

Another time, I might have been surprised.

‘I mean, you’ve spent your whole life avoiding anything that scares you,’ she told me. ‘You’ve
wasted
your singing voice, hiding in that costume job. And you sing in a fucking wardrobe! I mean, hello? It’s not just me that’s fucked up, babe!’

Julian had come back and was standing uneasily behind me. I couldn’t even look at him.
He had drugs in his pocket
. After all I’d shared with him about my fears for Fiona and … I stopped, shut down. Couldn’t take the pain. It was over.

But Fiona hadn’t finished with me. She was red in the face, frightened, but fighting on. ‘You let your parents treat you like shit and you let every single opportunity pass you by in case it’ll take you out of your comfort zone. Where are your balls?’

‘I have a life,’ I said dully. ‘And I have an amazing job.’

‘Who CARES?’ Fiona was half shouting, half crying. I saw Raúl slide out of the door and off towards the lifts. ‘Yeah, fuck off,’ Fiona shouted in his direction. ‘Scuttle off, you weak fuckwit.’

‘Fiona …’ Julian said. People around us had stopped talking and were listening quite openly.

‘You can fuck off too,’ I hissed, swinging round to him. ‘Leave us alone.’

He didn’t try to defy me: he knew he was done for.
‘OK, guys, let’s give them some privacy,’ he said to the crowd.

‘Sally just told a man to fuck off,’ Bea reported proudly, before being shooed away.

Fiona turned back to me, her face softer. ‘Who cares about working at the opera house when you’ve got a voice that brings traffic to a standstill? Who cares when you sound so beautiful when you sing that I sit outside your bedroom door and cry? You’re wasting your precious gift,’ Fiona sobbed. ‘You’re all locked up in your safe little world, trying to control everything so you never have to face your fears. Look at yourself, Sal!’

‘Hey, Fi,’ Julian said, stepping back in. ‘Come on. I know you care about Sally but that’s not really the point right now.’

Fiona’s face went purple. ‘Oh, so you’re defending her now, are you?’

Before he had a chance to reply, Fiona marched over and shoved her hand into Julian’s lovely worn jeans pocket. ‘Fuck you,’ she told him furiously. ‘Fuck you, you traitor. I thought we were in this together! You said we were doing this as a team!’

‘A team?’ I repeated weakly. ‘A coke team?’

The terrace was now silent, save for a repetitive beat popping synthetically from the outdoor speaker, and some insincere attempts at conversation from the crowd over at the other end of the terrace.

‘Yes,’ Fiona said spikily, opening the wrap. She tipped some white powder into a fingernail and inhaled, staring at me with terror and defiance. ‘A coke team,’ she repeated furiously, a tear sliding down her face.

‘Did he sell you the drugs?’ I heard myself ask. My heart was broken anyway.

Fiona looked at Julian and laughed rabidly. ‘Yes! He’s been giving me drugs! How do you feel now? Not so smug any more, eh?’

‘
Oh, Fiona!
Jesus! Look, let me explain,’ Julian said, seeing me crumple. ‘Sally, I … the thing is …’ He couldn’t continue. He couldn’t lie when the evidence was between us, in Fiona’s hand.

‘Drug peddler!’ Bea said shrilly, from behind me.

Julian put his face into his hands. That precious, lovely, handsome face. Belonging to my beloved warm furry bear. I couldn’t stand it. I literally couldn’t stand it. ‘I think we should go home,’ I said to Fiona, after a long, desperate pause. There was nothing more to be said now. We needed to go back to London to try to sort this out. To salvage what was still salvageable of my little cousin’s life, even if mine was wrecked. ‘Come on.’