We walk quickly, but I can’t help my eyes from scanning the crowd looking for Cash. Unexpectedly my eyes meet Octavia’s. She is watching me with a strange expression. She knows. She knows about me and Cash. I let my eyes slide away quickly and pull Britney towards the front door.
A hand curls around my wrist. I look up into Cash’s eyes. They are bright. He has changed into a dry T-shirt and black jeans and is looking sexy as hell. I feel myself go hot with the memory of what we did only minutes ago.
‘Britney is not feeling very well,’ I tell him. His eyes move from my face to hers. His brow knits.
‘What’s wrong, Sparkles?’ he asks.
‘Nothing. I think I just drank too much.’
‘How much?’
She shrugs sulkily. ‘I can’t remember now.’
His eyes narrow and his voice sounds concerned. ‘It’s OK. Tori will get you home safely and I’ll call you tomorrow.’
‘Can you tell Taylor that I desperately wanted to meet her, but I wasn’t feeling very well so I had to go home?’ she asks in a small voice.
‘Of course I will,’ Cash soothes, but his eyes are watchful and disturbed.
For an instant I’m aware of undercurrents. I look again at Britney and suddenly I see it. She’s not a spoilt rich girl. She is somehow terribly damaged. I’m not really her PA. I’m kind of guarding her.
‘Is Victor bringing the car around?’
‘No, he’s parked at the side so we’re just going to walk there.’
‘Come on, I’ll walk you both to the car,’ he says and gets on the other side of her. Together we walk towards the car in silence. Each of us lost in our own thoughts.
Victor is sitting in a group with the other chauffeurs eating a piece of roasted meat using his fingers. When he sees us he drops the meat onto a big plate full of bones, and wiping his hands on a napkin, rises. He walks towards the car and holds open the back door. Britney looks up at her brother.
‘Bye,’ she says unhappily.
‘You’ll be fine in the morning,’ he says.
‘See you around,’ he says to me.
‘Yeah,’ I say awkwardly.
We get into the car and Victor pulls away. I look at Britney and she is lying back with her eyes closed. I assume she doesn’t want to talk so I turn away and stare at the dark countryside.
‘There’s something wrong with me,’ Britney says suddenly, her voice sounding very childlike.
I face her. In the light from the streetlamps her eyes look big and frightened.
‘Is your head spinning?’ I ask.
She nods.
‘There’s nothing wrong with you, Brit. You’ve just had too much to drink. When we get home, we’ll get a big glass of water and two aspirins into you and I promise you, you’ll wake up completely fine again.’
‘It’s not the alcohol,’ she says softly. ‘There’s something missing in me.’
‘What?’
‘I’m not like other people. I don’t feel like I’m whole. I feel empty all the time and nothing I do will fill it.’
I stare at her, speechless. What do I say to that?
‘Have you ever lost something really important?’ she asks me sadly.
‘Uh … no, not really.’
‘That’s what it feels like. As if I have lost something really important.’
‘I … I’m sorry.’
She lets out a thin wail that makes the hair at the back of my neck rise and I cover my mouth with my hand.
‘Help me, Tori,’ she whines.
For a second I stay frozen with my hand clasped over my mouth, and then something inside me gives, and all the petty resentment I have ever felt about her dissipates into nothing.
‘Come here,’ I say and hold open my hands. Like a small hurt child, she scrambles into my arms. I hold her thin body and rock it slowly, as if I am her mother.
‘Shhh … Shh … Shh,’ I croon again and again as she sobs her heart out.
With some shock I realize that I have misjudged her badly. I thought she was an appearance obsessed, shallow rich kid who spent all her days on selfish pursuits. But in fact she is suffering some deep pain and there is nothing I can say to her to make it better. Her suffering seems so profound.
I pull tissues out of the box at the back of the headrest and pass them to her. Her sobs finally subside just as we get into London. She straightens and moves away from me. When I look at her puffy, reddened face I don’t feel as if there are only two years separating us. Suddenly she seems to be years younger than me. She blows her nose noisily and sniffs.
‘We’re nearly home,’ I tell her.
She looks outside the window, nods tiredly, and falls into a morose silence. The car comes to a stop and I open the car door and get out. The air is cool. Victor opens Britney’s door and, to my surprise, he scoops her up in his arms and proceeds to carry her to the door. I shut the car door and run ahead to put the key in the front door and throw it open for him. He takes her all the way up the stairs and to her bedroom. I follow behind anxiously. He lays her in her bed and turns to me.
‘You can take over now?’
‘Yes,’ I say quickly.
‘Right I’ll be off. Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight,’ I say, and he goes out and closes the door.
I look at Britney and she has curled up into a ball on her bed. I walk over and sit beside her.
‘Shall I help you get into bed?’ I ask softly.
She makes a strangled noise but it is so low I have to get on my haunches to try and catch her words. ‘Do you want me to get you a couple of aspirins?’
‘No,’ she chokes.
‘I’ll just go and get a glass of water, OK?’
She reaches out a hand and grasps a chunk of my bathrobe. ‘Don’t go,’ she whispers.
‘OK, I won’t,’ I say reassuringly.
She looks up at me, absurdly grateful for that small concession.
‘Do you want to come on the bed?’ Her voice small and pleading, her face is full of childlike trust. How on earth is this girl going to survive in the big wide world?
‘All right.’ I take off her shoes and put them on the floor. Then I pull the duvet over her and lie on top of it beside her.
‘I’m here,’ I say. She snuggles up to me. Her body is hot. For a while I lie on my back, frozen and stiff, staring at the ceiling and not knowing what to do next, but then it feels right to offer her comfort. So I turn towards her, and lying on my side, gently stroke her hair.
‘Go to sleep, Britney,’ I say softly.
Eventually her breathing becomes even and deep. Very gently I prise her claw like grip on my bathrobe and slowly edge out of her bed. I stand over her and experience shame and guilt.
Lord, what a judgmental bitch I’ve been.
I never gave the poor girl a chance. I took one look at her designer clothes and things and her obsession with her physical appearance, and just judged. It never even crossed my mind that it might be a symptom of a deeper suffering.
My attitude this entire time has been condescending, tolerating her with the kind of politeness that barely concealed my impatience, but all this time she has looked at me as if I’m someone she can trust and call a friend. Her complete innocence touches me and I suddenly feel strong sense of protectiveness. She becomes the little sister I never had and always wanted when I was a little girl.
Looking down at her softly breathing figure I vow to find a way to help her. There must be something I can do. I tell myself that before I leave this house I will get to the bottom of her pain.
Bending down I whisper in her ear, ‘Sleep little Brit.’
She mumbles in her sleep.
Tiptoeing out, I close the door softly and go to my room. I enter my bathroom and switch on the light. In the harsh light I examine myself in the mirror and suddenly I feel quite detached from everything that has happened. As if it all happened to someone else. As if Cash eating me out and the time with Britney in the car d
idn’t happen to me. I cover my eyes with my hands.