‘No, no!’ she said aloud, and sighed deeply. Then, after about twenty minutes of further typing and deliberation, she typed simply,I’ll be there x
FOURTEEN
LONDON
The Confession
27 December 2005
Vic still felt physically sick as she walked into the road of her London flat. If anyone had asked if her train journey from Windsor had been busy, she would have had no idea, because she had been deep in dark and terrifying thought the whole way back. But there was no getting around it, she had to face this head on. She had gone through how she was going to start the conversation a million times in her head, but every time she said something out loud, she felt faint at the sheer horror of it. There was no easy way to say it – a bit like Sandra had done with her, she just had to come straight out with it. She could almost convince herself that if she was telling Nate he had cancer it would be easier, because at least there was a cure for some cancers out there. But with HIV, there wasn’t. Yes, the virus could be managed, but the fact remained that there was no cure. What there certainly was, though, was a huge stigma around anybody having it, whether they be gay, straight, man orwoman. And that would make the conversation all the more difficult.
Vic stopped at the bottom of the familiar metal stairs. What if she headed straight back to the train station, got a ticket to the depths of nowhere and went missing? Maybe that was the answer – just run away. But that’s what she’d done all her life: run away from looking to the future.
With a heavy heart, she put her foot on the first step. This time last year she had been overjoyed to be getting home with Nate, when they had got out all the Christmas goodies and snuggled down to watch a cheesy film. A welcome respite after the dramatics of spending Christmas Day with her drunken mother and Boxing Day with his belligerent father, who had come down from the Lake District and insisted that he stay in a cheap hotel down the road from them.
She was scrabbling in her handbag for her key when Nate opened the door, wearing a blue paper crown and his James Bond tuxedo apron.
‘Hey.’
As he took her wheelie case, he gave one of his butterfly-inducing lopsided smiles. But instead of her heart missing a beat, she thought it might actually stop in fear.
‘Hey.’
Feeling sick, Vic attempted to smile back. Her mobile then started to ring.
‘Bollocks!’ She scrabbled in her bag again to see who it was.
‘Take it if you have to.’ Nate headed into the kitchen.
Not recognising the number she let it go to voicemail. ‘It’s fine. Whoever it is, they can wait.’
Vic and Nate stood looking at each across the kitchen table. It was as if she were seeing him for the first time. For some reason, he looked more handsome than ever before. As his big browneyes searched hers for a clue as to what she was thinking about his betrayal, she realised just how much she had missed him. She wanted to just fall into his arms and have him hug everything better. But it would never be better. Because all this was his fault.
‘Wine?’ Nate went to get glasses from the cupboard.
‘No, I’ll just have some water, thanks.’ Vic felt more awkward than on their first date six years ago.
Nate flicked the kettle on.
Vic heard the beep of a voice message on her phone.
‘Do you want to see who it is? I really don’t mind.’
Vic shook her head. ‘No. Nate, we need to talk.’
‘Yes, that’s the whole reason you’re here, isn’t it?’ Nate looked at her intently. ‘I know that face, you’re weirding me out. Vic, what’s wrong?’ He laughed, then on looking at her again, stopped. ‘Fuck, it’s serious, isn’t it?’ He half-smiled. ‘Not sure I’m ready for a Christmas dumping.’
Vic leant forward and put her hands on the draining board, her face to the sink. Despite her insides swirling like an erupting volcano, her voice remained remarkably level. ‘Nate, I’ve got HIV, which means you must have HIV. As in, I must have got it from you.’
The silence was deafening. Vic turned to face him.
He took a huge slug of his wine. ‘This is a joke, right?’
‘I’d be pretty sick if it was, don’t you think?’ Vic’s voice wobbled.
‘So, you’re saying you have HIV?’ He drank the words in as if they were a poison that he couldn’t spit out. His face contorted and then he let out a roar that a threatened silverback would be proud of. ‘HIV, as in the virus that leads to AIDS? Do women even get it?’
Vic burst into angry tears. ‘Clearly they do, because you fucking slept with one who has given it to you. Then, as it’stransmissable throughfuckingsomeone other than your partner, you gave it to me, Nate.’
