Page 73 of (Not So) Mad About You

Marilyn frowned. “Right. Okay. But, you know, you sort of said…”

“I know what I said,” said Bea. “And I don’t care. That’s my room. The two of you move into my flat after you’ve cheated with my boyfriend, and then you steal my bedroom. And it’s noton. I’ve been too nice, that’s the problem. I’ve been too nice and you know what? You’re going to give me my room back.”

Marilyn swallowed and nodded. “Sure, yes, of course.”

“And more than that, you’re going to be moving out,” said Bea.

“We’re looking,” Marilyn said. “We really are, I swear.”

“Well, look harder,” Bea said. “Because I’m moving out, I’ve already given notice to the landlord and I’ve already found a new flat. So the two of you will have to be out by the end of the month because the lease is in my name.”

“The end of the month?” wailed Marilyn. “But…”

“But nothing,” said Bea. “You’ve had long enough. Find somewhere. Or find some other idiot that will let you take over their entire flat with your things, who’ll let you cook dinners in their kitchen, who’ll let you have sex in their bed, who’ll let you move into their lives and just hijack them.”

Marilyn dropped the boxes and picked up her bags. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, obviously. Right. I’ll get on that.” She hurried into the kitchen, shoved her shopping bag straight into the fridge without even unpacking it first, and then practically ran out of the flat.

Bea was left open-mouthed both at her own audacity and the fact that it had worked. She had her flat back. That was all it had taken, just a little truth-telling, a little standing up for herself, a little confidence.

A little of Alli’s influence.

It was only then that her phone rang. Liz. Bea picked it up, her hand still shaking.

THERE WAS TEA on the table and screwed up tissues next to it. A bottle of wine had been opened, and Bea’s eyes stung even more. She hadn’t thought that there’d been any more tears. Turned out, she’d been wrong.

“She sounds like a real piece of work,” Liz said.

“She’s…” But Bea couldn’t do it. She couldn’t speak badly about Alli, even though she was torn up inside with what had happened. “She’s upset.”

“Don’t make excuses for her,” said Liz. “She’s an adult, and she lost her temper. She had no right to speak to you like that.”

Silently, Bea nodded.

Liz reached out and patted her leg. “I’m sorry, Bea. I really am.”

“I just thought I’d found something. Someone,” said Bea, her voice sounding a million miles away. “It was… different and fast and a whole bunch of things that I’d never imagined having in my life. Yet it felt right somehow. Comfortable. For the first time in my life, I felt like I was with someone who was my equal. Someone as flawed as me, someone who I could give to and take from.”

Liz picked up her teacup, shuffling around the couch until her plastered leg was comfortable. “That’s what it’s supposed to be like,” she said. “That’s what I’ve been trying to explain. A relationship has to be a balance, a meeting of equals. If it’s not, there’s always going to be someone suffering.”

“I babied him, didn’t I?” asked Bea sadly.

“Robbie?” Liz snorted. “You ironed his football shorts and made him hot milk before bed.”

“There’s nothing wrong with looking after someone.”

“No,” said Liz. “Except remember that time that you got the flu? He pissed off to his mum’s because he didn’t want to catch it.”

“You caught it instead,” Bea said. They’d spent a week cuddled up on her couch in a duvet, feeling like they were dying and sharing all the things they wished they could have done.

“Yeah, do you see what I mean there?”

Bea couldn’t imagine Alli curling up with her sick on the couch. But equally, she couldn’t imagine her leaving her like Robbie had done. Then again, she probably had no right to imagine Alli doing anything, did she?

Her heart sank into her stomach. She just couldn’t get her head around this.

“Listen, Bea, did you do the right thing?”

Bea nodded.

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