‘I think chucking out the duvet and pillows is a bit extreme, though, isn’t it?’
Vic noticed her friend now had tears running down her face. ‘I’m so sorry, Vic.’
Vic felt her heart drop. ‘You know, don’t you?’ Orla’s face twitched. ‘Did Nate tell you?’
‘No. I overheard you the night before I flew to Düsseldorf.’ Orla continued to gabble. ‘I didn’t know what to say or do. I’ve felt sick since I’ve been gone. Oh Vic, you poor thing.’
‘I don’t want your sympathy, Orla, just your fucking support. I haven’t got leprosy. I’ve got a virus, that is inside of me and unless you want to start sharing bodily fluids or shoot up some heroin together, then you’re going to be fine. OK?’
‘Vic, I’m so sorry. I just didn’t know what to do… or… say.’
‘So, you thought,I’ll leave my mate to deal with this whilst I’m away. I’m sure she’ll be all right. I mean, she’s only got HIV.’
‘That’s unkind, Vic. It wasn’t like that. I had to work. I… er… Please just try and understand from my point of view. I didn’t know how to react. You hadn’t even told me properly.’
Vic’s anger took over. ‘And how do you think I felt when I saw you’d chucked out the duvet and the pillows without a word?! And I hope you don’t expect me to replace it all.’
‘No, no. I have bought new. And I’ll get you another cover.’ Orla put the two identical mugs of steaming tea down on the breakfast bar. ‘I don’t want you to buy anything.’
Vic took a sip of tea as Orla returned with the sugar bowl, and hesitated. The mugs were sitting parallel in front of them. ‘Which one did you just drink out of?’
‘That’s enough; that really is enough!’ Vic growled. ‘Any fool knows you can’t catch it from saliva. If you don’t want to be alongside me on this journey – ’cos it’s gonna be a long, hard one – then I’m no longer calling you my friend.’ She grabbed her handbag.
‘Vic, you’re being sensitive and overreacting. Talk to me, help me understand.’
‘I don’t want to. I just want to be on my own.’ Vic headed for the door, then turned back. ‘I guess you’ve told Mandy?’
‘Umm… yes, but she won’t say anything. I needed someone to support me.’
Vic was almost speechless. ‘You needed support?Youdid? For fuck’s sake, Orla. And now she’ll tell Steve, and soon everyone we know will know.’
Vic’s anger was compounded by a surge of sadness on realising that Mandy, her oldest friend, had known all this time and hadn’t reached out to her either.
Orla looked perplexed. ‘Vic, what’s going on? Of course she won’t. We’re your friends. Stop this.’
‘Friends? Friends support each other, Orla.’ Vic’s voice tailed off.
Short of words, Orla turned to practicality. ‘What about your clothes and stuff? Do you need them now?’
‘Just chuck them in the landfill too. That’s fine. I hear a lot of people catch it off buttons. Oh, and you better burn my toothbrush, whilst you’re at it, and God forbid if I’ve used your hairbrush by mistake, too!’
‘Vic!Stop!I can be there for you. We will help you.’ Orla put her arm on her friend’s. ‘Welove you.’
‘I don’t need your help. Here! Educateyourself.’ Vic reached inside her bag and threw a stray leaflet at her mate. ‘And yes, call me bitter, because with the amount of men you sleep with, you’re damned lucky this is happening to me and not you. Keep shagging strangers, Orla O’Malley – because it’s clearlynotmaking you happy. Or short of that, grow up and get into the real world.’
Dragging her case up the Wandsworth flat steps, Vic let herself in and turned on the kitchen light. With a heavy heart, she immediately noticed that the multi-coloured rug Nate hadinsisted on buying at Athens airport when they last went away was no longer on the floor. She ran to the bedroom and flung open the wardrobe. All Nate’s clothes were gone too. He’d said he wasn’t leaving until the weekend, hadn’t he? She ran back to the kitchen to see if he had placed any kind of note on the cork board where they had always left messages for one another. And there it was, on a yellow Post-it, scribbled in black marker pen.
Sharpie, you know I’m rubbish at goodbyes, so let’s just say, see you when we’re older. I’m so sorry.
Your Nate X
With a high-pitched scream, Vic ripped the cork board off the wall, threw it to the floor and began to sob.
NINETEEN
LONDON
The Three Musketeers
