Chapter Twenty-Three
I cry the whole train ride back to Bristol and when, two hours later, I reach my childhood home with my bin bags and cases, I am fully distraught. I ring the doorbell, the familiar, comforting sound of it making me cry even harder. The door opens to reveal my dad. His fuzzy eyebrows shoot up in surprise and then lower into pity.
‘I’ve been trying to ring you all bloody day,’ he says, pulling me straight into a tight hug. ‘I had a feeling you’d be on your way.’
‘I turned my phone off – wait… you know?’
He gives me a sad smile. ‘Janet next-door-but-one sent me a link to Henry’s YouTube video.’
‘There’s a YouTube video now?’ I say. ‘Oh my God. This is awful. Everyone thinks I’m a con woman.’
Dad grabs my bin bags and luggage and then ushers me in to the living room. ‘Sit down, love. I’ll get you a brew, shall I?’
I turn my phone on and head straight to Henry’s YouTube Channel. There it is. A new video called ‘I WAS USED’.
I notice straight away that it’s not in the high quality of his other videos with all the fancy edits and glossy graphics. Henry obviously made this without Auguste. With a shaking hand I press the play button. Henry, looking incredibly handsome in a sad, heartbroken way, basically recaps the events of the last few weeks. How glad he was to have found me and how I let him believe that I had feelings for him. I didn’t do that, did I? After that first kiss, I was determined to discourage his advances. Was I not clear enough? He goes on to say how heartbroken he is now that he has discovered my ‘true nature’.
I start to scroll down the comments but before I can read them, my dad dives into the room and knocks my phone out of my hand, spilling a bit of tea on his woolly jumper in the process.
‘You don’t want to look at the comments section, love.’
‘Is it awful?’
‘Those people don’t know you. They don’t know much about anything, from the sounds of it.’
Dad hands me the tea. I give a small appreciative smile.
‘I didn’t mean to hurt anyone,’ I tell him. ‘I was just going to stay there temporarily.’
‘Did you lose your job?’ Dad asks. ‘And get kicked out of your flat?’
I nod, embarrassed. Dammit. I didn’t have to worry about Mr Hemmings informing my Dad after all. Henry has done if for me. He’s told my dad and the whole world what a failure I really am.
Dad looks confused, his grey brows knitted together. ‘Why on earth didn’t you tell me? I could have helped.’
I bury my head in my hands. ‘You expected me to fail in London. I didn’t want to prove you right.’
‘What are you talking about? I didn’t expect you to fail, Bess,’ Dad says taking my hands into his. ‘I was just worried that you’d get in over your head. That you’d have things easier if you just stayed here. But I realised pretty sharpish that that’s not you. You’re not like your brothers. You need to get out there.’
‘You mean… you didn’t think I would fail? You weren’t waiting for me to mess up? Waiting for the rescue call?’
Dad grimaces. ‘I mean, for the first few months you were gone I was worried a lot. But not because I thought you would fail. Goodness, no. I was worried that you’d be lonely. That you’d be overwhelmed with pressure and the financial burden of living in a big city. I wondered whether you’d come back with your tail between your legs but the months went by and you didn’t come back. You made it work. I’m ever so proud of you.’
I start to cry again. ‘Until now,’ I sniff. ‘I’ve messed it up, well and truly. When Henry thought I was the woman who saved his life, it was easier to just go along with it. I was so low. And so freaking cold. Being cold can make you do some bonkers things.’
Dad nods thoughtfully. ‘That’s very true.’
I sigh deeply, feeling like an absolute loser which, of course I am. And even worse is the fact that I had a tiny little taste of what it feels like to be a winner. Even if it wasn’t real. Living somewhere lovely, being packed out with happy PT clients, making some money and meeting someone who fluffed my pillows when I was poorly. It felt as good as I always hoped it would. And now I’ve lost it all.
‘What am I gonna do, Dad?’ I ask. ‘What the heck am I going to do?’
Dad brushes my hair back from my face. ‘First you’re going to get yourself some sleep. And then you’ll do the same thing I told you to do when you were learning to ride your bike.’
‘Try again and try again,’ I say in a small voice.
‘That’s right,’ Dad says. ‘Try again and try again.’
