Page 94 of The World Outside My Window

Ben sees her first and leaps up, cupping her elbow gently in the palm of his hand and guiding her to a chair where she collapses, gratefully. Debbie pours her a large glass of red wine and Laura necks half of it, swiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

‘Fuck.’

Ben wonders whether he ought to make himself scarce and is about to ask if they want some privacy when Laura speaks again.

‘I can’t believe it,’ she says. She’s trying for angry but her voice comes out weak, tremulous, and she hates herself for it.

‘I assume he’s told you everything?’ Debbie says, taking a sip from her own glass. A drop spills onto the white napkin and spreads slowly out into the fabric and Laura watches it.

‘Yes.’

‘And?’

She shakes her head, trying to order her thoughts in her own mind. But it all sounds so surreal, like a bad film script. How can this have happened to her? How did she let it happen?

‘Lau?’

She looks up at her friends, their kind faces, waiting. Then she takes a deep breath and tells them everything. It comes out in fits and starts, the timeline jumbled, the details muddled, but when she’s finished she feels purged, cleansed. And utterly spent.

‘I feel like such a fool.’

Ben shuffles in his seat awkwardly, twiddles his glass back and forth with his fingertips. He’s outraged, but doesn’t know how to express it, doesn’t want to say too much, at least not before Laura has had a chance to process things. Debbie, however, doesn’t have any such qualms.

‘Don’t you dare say that,’ she says, her face turning pink, a vein pulsing in her temple. ‘This is all about Jim Parks, and his selfish, cheating, lying, manipulative ways.’

‘But you told me. You warned me there was something not quite right about him. About the way we were. And I – I dismissed you.’ Laura wishes with all her heart that she could travel back in time to tell that Laura, the stupid, needy Laura from five years before, to listen to her best friend. That, actually, cutting everyone out of your life for a man isn’t normal. But it’s all too late now.

‘No, I won’t have it.’ Debbie slams her hand onto the tablecloth harder than she intended and Laura is aware of other diners turning their heads to see what’s going on. She slumps down further in her seat and tries to hide her face.

‘Don’t, please,’ she whispers.

‘Sorry, Lau,’ Debbie says, leaning forward and taking Laura’s hand that hangs limply by her side. Her voice is soft now, apologetic. ‘But this isn’t aboutI told you soor anything you’ve done wrong. This is entirely down to Jim.’

Laura nods miserably and a tear trickles down her face and splashes onto the tablecloth. She looks up at Debbie, then at Ben, their faces shining in the dim glow from the lamp in the middle of the table. ‘Thank you. Both of you. I don’t know what I’d do without you right now.’

‘I haven’t really done anything,’ Ben says, his cheeks flushing. He wishes he could reach over and wrap his arms around Laura and let her know that everything is going to be all right, that he’s here, and that, if she wants him to be, he will always be here. But he’s painfully aware that, not only would this be entirely inappropriate right now, but also she might not welcome it at all. Then where would he be? So he stays where he is, with one hand clasped round his wine glass, the other lying flat on the table.

‘You’ve both been brilliant,’ Laura says. ‘I just wish I knew what the hell I’m going to do now.’

‘I tell you what I think we should do right this minute,’ Debbie says.

‘What?’

‘Get some food, go home, and get some sleep.’ She squeezes Laura’s hand. ‘Everything will seem better in the morning.’

‘Will it?’

Debbie thinks for a moment. ‘Fuck knows. But it’s worth a go, right?’

Laura smiles despite her misery. ‘You’re right. And do you know what? I don’t care if I never see Jim Parks again.’

32

NOW – 14 NOVEMBER 1992

The doorbell rings and Laura jumps, but only because she was concentrating on sticking masking tape along the skirting board and didn’t hear anyone coming up the path. It’s nice, she realises for the umpteenth time as she makes her way towards the front door, not to be petrified of her own shadow any more, not to jump with terror every single time the doorbell rings. She’s still got a way to go before she’s completely comfortable with leaving the house on her own or being in crowded places, but the last few weeks have changed her profoundly, and she’s beginning to like the new Laura that’s emerging.

In the immediate aftermath of the showdown with Jim, Laura didn’t want to leave the house much. Partly because she was still licking her wounds, and partly because she couldn’t face the shame of telling everyone the truth about what had really happened. What would these people, who had been so kind to her even though they hardly even knew her, really think when they discovered the truth? Would they see her as weak, gullible? Pathetic? She’s tried to imagine how she would feel if it were someone else, but it’s impossible.

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