Page 19 of Cuckoo

‘No, please, you don’t have to,’ I start, but she cuts me off.

‘You’re not doing this alone. Come on, I’ll get us a cab.’ She puts a supportive hand on the small of my back and it reminds me so much of Noah walking alongside me at bars, when he knows I feel out of place. I find myself walking next to her then waiting for the taxi outside, my heartbeat steady in my chest as I wait to confront Noah.

Chapter Seventeen

‘You getting out any time soon or what?’

The taxi driver has turned around to face us both, the stench of stale smoke wafting through his gappy teeth. He looks bored, as though this moment is an insignificant blip in his life, when for me it’severything.

Sukhi is gripping my hand.

‘Give us a second,’ she snaps. For the hundredth time in the last thirty-six hours, I’m grateful for her being here, and let her know as much by giving her hand a little squeeze. I glance into the rear-view mirror and can see my blue-shadowed eyes, patchy red blotches tainting my nose and cheeks, ugly and harsh against my pallor. I’m not looking my finest, I’ll admit. A far cry from the woman Noah first met in the wine aisle. I take a shaky breath in and try to calm my mind for whatever is about to happen.

‘Do you have a plan of action? Know what you’re going to say?’ Sukhi asks me gently.

I shake my head. ‘No plan.’

‘No plan is a good plan,’ she says with a small smile.

The city lights are reflecting on the windows, bouncing off Sukhi’s bright eyes. I wrap my trench coat around myself alittle tighter, hugging my stomach, and she reaches over and gently pats my hand.

I suddenly want to run back home; to crawl into bed and pretend the last day and a half never happened. I don’t usually confront things. I don’t storm recklessly into nightclubs with no plan. Even when I left Mother, I wasn’t brave. I just stepped away and, when she didn’t follow, carried on walking. But this time it’s Noah stepping away, and I have to find some sort of strength within myself to force this confrontation. I want to run, but my mouth says, ‘Let’s get this over with.’ I open the car door.

‘Finally,’ the taxi driver mutters under his breath as we get out of the cab.

‘No tip for him,’ Sukhi tries to joke with me, but it falls flat. Will I ever laugh again?

As though on cue, the sound of laughter erupts into the evening air as the door of the cab in front of us swings open and a trio of men floods out onto the pavement beside us, lighting cigarettes and speaking loudly about stupid, frivolous things that nobody cares about. Least of all me.

I step to the side to get away from them and Sukhi and I stand awkwardly in the queue for the club as I try to work out how to move, how to think, how to exist. The club is small and typically pretentious in that West London sort of way; potted plants dangling invitingly around the sleek exterior walls, gold sans-serif lettering spelling out the establishment name, matching vinyl pasted onto the condensation-fogged glass through which I can see bodies writhing against each other, hear the dull thrum of a beat.

‘Got a light?’ a guy asks me, his eyes glazed with alcohol. I flinch away from him instinctively, the smell of whisky fiery on his breath.

‘No,’ Sukhi snaps, putting a protective arm around me and ushering me away from him like a geriatric patient.

What am I going to say when I get in there? Where do I even begin? What do I ask? Who is Noah in there with? The new work friends that he didn’t deign to tell me about? The thin blonde? I take in another deep breath as my stomach clenches with nerves. We make it to the front of the queue quickly; for clubbers it’s still relatively early. The bouncer raises his eyebrows at our jeans and trainers combo and for a moment I panic, thinking he may turn us away. But it’s obviously a quiet night because he ushers us inside without a fuss.

As soon as we step in we get stamped on the wrist, a bouncer rifling through our handbags in search of weapons or drugs. After that we’re waved through quickly and the stench in the air is a mix of alcohol and sweaty skin.

‘I remember now why I never go clubbing,’ Sukhi says, her nose wrinkled.

It’s dark, with hazy blue lighting tinting the room in a way that seems menacing. I’m squinting in search of Noah amidst the bodies contorting and curling around each other on the dancefloor, limbs flailing.

I begin to feel extremely claustrophobic as people keep shoving past us to get down to the main dance area and Sukhi clings on tightly to my arm. ‘Let’s get out of the entryway’ she bellows into my ear, the music pounding over her voice.

I nod silently and let her lead me up towards a mezzanineoverlooking the lower level. My eyes are frantically scanning the room, searching for my fiancé. My heart is thudding, the loud electronic music making it difficult for me to think. My senses are overwhelmed and I grip on to the railing tightly, conscious of how sticky my hands are.

‘Maybe he’s in the smoking area with someone?’ I suggest, though the Noah I know doesn’t smoke.

‘Oh, God,’ Sukhi breathes. I follow her gaze and across the mezzanine, through the thick smog of a smoke machine, I see him. He’s in a velvet-lined booth, and ofcoursehe’s with the dimpled blonde girl. She’s thrown her head back, laughing at something he’s saying. His eyes are twinkling, oblivious to anyone else in that bar, in his life. She leans forward and they hold hands over the table, his thumb circling her palm lazily, a gesture laden with affection. I don’t dare blink. Beside me, I can feel Sukhi stiffen into a fighting stance, her fists clenched.

I see Noah gesture to the blonde’s empty glass, already standing to get her another. She smiles at him gratefully, and then my fiancé bends down and kisses her, his hand around her neck. I cannot move.

It’s not a Hollywood kiss, but somehow that’s worse. It’s familiar. It’s sweet, warm and tender, automatic… a kiss they’ve clearly shared before.

‘Bastard,’ Sukhi whispers under her breath. That word seems to snap me out of my paralysis and before I know what I’m doing, I’m marching towards him.

My claustrophobia has been replaced by determination as I shove and elbow my way through the crowd waiting to beserved at the bar, my eyes quickly scanning countless suited City workers keen to quench their thirst. Frustrated, I head round to the side where the booths are. I see him, he’s back placing two drinks on the table.Quick work, Noah.Sukhi is behind me, holding on to the back of my coat. I’m not sure whether it’s so she doesn’t lose me or so she can pull me back if necessary. I spot Blake, recognise him from the Facebook photo, but he’s beyond the booth, flirting with a brunette woman, his hand grazing her hip as he leans in to hear her over the music. My gaze returns to my cheating boyfriend.

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