Page 27 of Cuckoo

‘Jesus, stay here, I’ll get you a drink… Do you want a Coke?’ she asks, her brows furrowing slightly.

‘Wine, please,’ I tell her, without looking up.

She ushers me into the seat beside hers before half-running up to the bar. I lean on the sticky pub table, wondering how long I need to be here before I can make an excuse and leave, go home to research more about Lilah.

Sukhi quickly returns, a small glass of white in onehand, a grimy glass of water in the other. ‘I figured if I can’t convince you to have a soft drink, I can at least try to keep you from being sick later,’ she tells me solemnly, pushing the glass of water in front of me. I don’t tell her how much I’ve already been drinking since I last saw her. Instead, I hold up the water to her gratefully and toast, ‘To cheating fucking liars!’

She grins at my swearing, then holds up her own glass of Coke. ‘Fuck toasting him. Tofriends,’ she says pointedly, and the word lights me up from the inside out.Friend.

‘So, how have you been today?’ she asks, sipping her drink.

I frown, trying to work out how to share my feelings– and what I’ve done– without sounding like a psychopath. ‘A bit all over the place,’ I settle for, before draining the water and switching to the wine.

‘I mean, obviously. Who can blame you? I’d be a wreck,’ she tells me.

Sukhigetsme. Sukhiunderstandsme. It’s okay for me to feel like crap, the love of my life has been living a secret double life. It’s okay for me to be wearing stinky old trackies out in public. If anyone deserves a breakdown, it’s me. ‘And Iama wreck,’ I confide, taking a slightly bigger gulp of wine before continuing. ‘I just keep thinking about that girl and comparing myself to her, you know? Like, why me? Why is he doing this to me?’

‘Oh, hun,’ Sukhi says, nodding along sympathetically. ‘You mustn’t think about the other woman, you’ll drive yourself into a dark place and make yourself feel so shitcomparing yourself to other people. It’s not her that’s the issue anyway, it’shim.He’s the one who lied, who betrayed your trust.’

Betrayed my trust? ‘I hadn’t thought of it like that,’ I mumble into my glass.

‘It’s easy to get so caught up in thoughts about the other woman because you have no history with her. It’s easy to be angry at her. But the real betrayal is from your partner: he is the one you should be directing all your negativity towards,’ Sukhi says.

I’m frowning, drinking to avoid having to answer right away.

‘I know it hurts to think of him wronging you, but that’s what’s happened. He’s not been stolen away from you, he’s turned his back on you. Don’t get it twisted. And remember, it’shisloss.’

‘But why?’ I half-wail, my glass now drained. Sukhi’s glass of Coke is still nearly full, so I glance quickly at the bar and hope she doesn’t notice.

She does. ‘I don’t think you should drink any more today, Claire,’ she says gently.

I ignore her. ‘Why would he do this to me? I thought he loved me,’ I say, and my eyes are now openly streaming. Some guys must be staring because Sukhi glares over my shoulder and shouts, ‘Take a picture, why don’t you?’ and throws up a finger.

I hear a couple of jeers and then she rolls her eyes, turning her attention back to me. I refuse to look behind me, not wanting to see anyone drawing amusement from my pain.The cruelty of strangers feels too much to bear, on top of everything else.

‘Some guys are just shits,’ Sukhi tells me, and it takes me a moment to realise she’s speaking about Noah and not the guys behind me.

‘But Noah isn’t like that,’ I argue. ‘He’sperfect.’ I drop my head into my hands in dismay.

‘Nobody’s perfect, Claire.’

But he was. Heis.He has cherished and protected me. He’s taught me how to believe that Mother, the school bullies… they were all wrong. That I matter, and my feelings matter. It’s the same way Sukhi makes me feel: safe and appreciated. I wonder if I would have been friends with her at school. I think, sadly, probably not.

‘Hairy Clairy, Hairy Clairy!’ Laura was singing in a stupid high-pitched whine, her rabble of mean girls flicking bits of torn paper at me as I walked down the school corridor, holding my backpack up as though it could shield me from their words. Their cruel cackles echoed in my ears. The paper might not have hit its target, but their viciousness did.

‘Do you have as much hair down below as you do on your arms, Hairy Clairy?’ one of Laura’s hounds asked, glancing quickly to her pack leader for approval. Laura smiled her crooked smirk, and the girl’s grin widened.

‘Nobody would know, she’s such a virgin,’ Laura replied with an exaggerated grimace, miming wiping tears from her eyes.

‘Little Hairy Virgin Clairy!’ one of the pack shrieked. At thisnew nickname, they burst into such loud laughter I felt like my eardrums might split. My face was burning hot and at this point I just wanted to get away, to escape it. So I said goodbye to any pride I had left, and ran. I tore down the hall and they chased after me, singing, ‘Little Hairy Virgin Clairy!’ until they couldn’t run anymore for laughing so hard. I managed to hold my tears in all the way home, but as soon as I was through the front door they came, streaming down my face, and I collapsed on the floor, clutching my backpack and sobbing.

‘Claire, darling, is that you?’ Mother warbled from her bedroom. I quickly patted my eyes dry, stood up and tried to straighten myself out, but she was already sticking her head round the door and peering at me with curiosity. ‘Are you crying, Claire?’ she asked. Her voice was gentle, and for a moment I thought I saw the side of her that so rarely came out, the kind and nurturing side.

‘What happened, sweetheart?’ she drawled, coming into the room properly and draping herself over an armchair, peering at me with her head tilted as though I was a fascinating TV drama she couldn’t look away from.

‘Nothing, Mother. Just some girls at school, it’s no big deal.’ I tried to brush it off, swung my bag back onto my shoulder so I could lock myself in my room and forget, but I could see the glint in her eye, the love of drama emanating from her as she leant towards me.

‘What girls? What did they say? Shall I go to school, talk to the head?’ she demanded loudly, embracing her role as the heroic mother, the pained guardian of a bullied young schoolgirl.

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