Page 99 of We Used To Be Magic

‘There’s me,’ she says. ‘There’s always me.’

Caroline insists that I stay on the phone during the cab ride. When it finally pulls up outside her building, she’s waiting for me on the street in zebra-print pyjamas, her hair askew. I’m barely out of the car before she yanks me into a hug so tight that it hurts and I’m grateful, for that. For her.

We stand there in silence for a moment, just holding each other. Then she leads me inside, and out of the cold.

AUDREY

‘IS THEREANYTHING ELSETHAT YOUWANT TOASK ME?’

Demi meets my gaze as she says that, and her wording strikes me as oddly formal. Maybe because this whole thing has felt so distinctlyun-formal, until now.

To passers-by, we probably look like two friends catching up over coffee – she was here when I arrived, sitting at a corner table in a cute pink boilersuit. I recognised her from social media. I spent hours poring over her feed last night, as if knowing where she went on holiday last summer might make this less terrifying. But she spotted me before I could second-guess myself, raising a hand in greeting. After the introductions she complimented my jeans and that was that – we were talking. Everything felt totally normal until the part where she reached for her phone and asked if it was okay if she started recording. And I said yes, because it was.

‘Um – I don’t think so,’ I reply. ‘I can’t think of anything.’

She nods, tapping at her phone – the recording ends with a beep, and she meets my eyes.

‘I’m really glad you came here today,’ she says softly. ‘I’m glad you felt like you could talk to me. But I know that this is a lot, and if you change your mind …’

‘I won’t,’ I say firmly. ‘I’m sure about this. All of it.’

‘Well – things are moving quickly, but I’ll make sure you see the article before it’s published. You can let me know if there’s anything you’d prefer to be omitted. And we won’t be using your name.’

‘Oh,’ I say, surprised. ‘I mean – is that worth it? Miranda will know it’s me, still.’

‘Are you worried about that?’

‘No. I mean – I guess she might try and blacklist me, but I don’t really care at this point,’ I say, dropping my gaze. ‘Maybe having my real name attached to the things I’m saying might give them more … credence.’

‘That’s brave of you.’

‘Not really,’ I say, discomfited. ‘I’m sure there’re worse stories than mine. Like – objectively …’

‘Objectively, he assaulted you,’ Demi says evenly. ‘And you should recognise it as that, because I don’t doubt that he does. But he did it anyway because he didn’t imagine for a second that there would be consequences.’

I blink at Demi, my heart pounding. Hearing her lay it out so bluntly – it’s terrifying, but God, it’s such a relief. To be reassured that I’m not overreacting, not being dramatic – I needed it so badly and I didn’t even realise.

‘I can understand wanting to downplay it,’ she continues. ‘Like if you can somehow make it smaller, you can make it matter less.’

‘Right,’ I say, exhaling shakily. ‘That’s it. Totally.’

‘But it matters – every story I’ve heard and every person who’s told them. And if you feel strongly about me using your name, I will.’

‘But you don’t want to?’

‘No,’ she says after a beat. ‘Pieces like this – they have a way of provoking very strong reactions. It can get ugly, and I’d prefer to shield you from as much of that as possible. It’s not to say that people you know won’t recognise you, because they might – especially anyone who knows about your connection to the upcoming campaign. But it’ll protect you from wider public scrutiny.’

I nod. A part of me is relieved to still have some control over who does and doesn’t know what happened.

‘Another thing – I won’t be able to print any of what you’ve told me about Miranda,’ Demi says solemnly. ‘I should tell you that you’re not the only one with a story about her, but without any proof, Soil just doesn’t have the resources to handle a defamation suit. They’d sink us out of spite.’

‘But … you have proof about Julian?’

Demi nods wordlessly, and relief floods over me.

‘Everyone in the office is working overtime on this. The article could be live by the end of the week.’

‘Are you worried?’ I blurt out. ‘About things getting ugly, I mean.’

---