Tequila & Tea Bags (21 page)

‘Well, that’s what we heard,’ the thin lady says. ‘And the next thing we know they’re all slagging us off. Mrs Bluebell said my pies were disgusting!’

I put my hand up to stop her. ‘I’ve heard first hand from Mrs Bluebell that your pies are the best in Leeds, so that’s rubbish. She also told me how you called her a fat weable. Is that true?’ It’s hard to keep a straight face.

‘Well…’ she looks down sheepishly, ‘only after she said that about me pies.’

‘You mean after you heard the Chinese whisper that she had?’ I challenge.

This is all so like high school.

‘Um…’  She looks down discomfited.

‘Look,’ I say loudly, grabbing the attention of even the chatting teenagers in the back, ‘a lot of stuff has happened, but it’s mostly hearsay and misheard gossip. Now, I don’t know about you, but our village economy has suffered because of this. And I’m betting yours has too?’

‘They all buy their pies at the super centre in Leeds now!’ thin lady shrieks. ‘My takings have gone down forty percent.’

‘Only because you insist on buying all of your stuff from there too,’ her teenage daughter says.

‘So what are you suggesting?’ the fat guy asks, scratching his head.

‘I’m suggesting we call a truce. Have a party on the village borders. Anyone who shows up is willing to put this whole stupid thing behind us and start again.’

Any excuse for a party!

‘No one will show up!’ a teenager shouts, sipping from his can of coke.

‘I think you’ll be surprised.’ I smile confidently. Of course, I’d have to actually talk to them first, but they don’t have to know that.

‘Why should we?’ another one shouts. ‘We have our pride!’

I sigh loudly. ‘God, enough of the pride!’ I shout. ‘With the way things are going people are going to have to sell up and move on. Then you’ll be stuck with a loud of Southerners looking for a weekend home and you know what dicks we are.’ They all look terrified at the thought. ‘OR we can support each other and continue to live here in harmony. It’s up to you guys. Saturday, 5pm at the borders. Think about it.’

I grab my coat and flee out of there before I can burst into tears from the confrontation. Well that was fucking horrible. I’m not built for this shit. I can only hope they’ll consider it.

I’m not holding my breath.

***

Saturday 8
th
November

Now that the whole talking to the village fiasco is behind me, I can finally sit back and revel in my happiness. I still can't remove the smile from my face. I just can't. Is this really what I’ve been missing out on all these years? I had no idea!

It’s such a beautiful day that I’ve decided to hang some washing out in the garden. I’m also hoping it’ll distract Elsie from realising I’ve shrunk her whites. These washing machines are tricky bastards.

I swear the world even seems brighter. I look up at the blue sky and absorb the warm sun’s rays on my face, as I listen to the birds singing merrily along. Now, thinking about how Elsie used to sing to the birds, it doesn’t actually seem that strange. They’re kind of cute. As long as they don’t poo on my head.

‘Someone’s happy.’ I turn around with a peg in my mouth to see Lauren grinning across the low fence. ‘Can I assume something happened?’

‘Yes!’ I shriek excitedly, jumping up and down on the spot. ‘We only went and did it!’

‘Had sex?’ she whispers, hunching her shoulders over as if to protect some privacy.

‘Nope,’ I shake my head, trying to play serious. ‘We
made love
.’

We burst out laughing, happily cackling like a couple of school girls.

‘You lucky cow,’ she laughs. ‘I take it he rocked your world?’ She cocks one eyebrow playfully.

‘Rocked it and threw it into orbit,’ I gush, throwing my hands to my chest dramatically. Just talking about it brings a fresh wave of euphoria.

‘Oh God, I remember the days,’ she says sadly, clutching onto the fence. ‘Actually it was so long ago I kind of don’t.’ She laughs, but I can tell she’s sad about it.

‘It can’t be
that
long ago?’ How bloody long could she have possibly gone without it?

She looks to the ground, her cheeks reddening. ‘Try nearly eight years. I haven’t had sex since the night I conceived Noah.’

WHAT? Eight frigging years? She hasn’t had sex since I was…fifteen?

‘No fucking way!’ I screech in surprise. ‘Your vibrator must be battered to pieces.’

‘I don’t have one!’ She shudders at the idea. ‘I just live from my memories. 12
th
September 2005 in a Leeds hotel.’ She looks off into the distance as if recalling the memory.

12
th
September 2005. Poor Lauren. Everyone has needs, right? There I was whinging about not having had an orgasm and poor Lauren’s had nothing. At least it was some sex. Some kind of emotion. 12
th
September. I try to commit the date to memory. This could actually help me find out who daddio is.

***

I look at my phone and consider it one last time. Is this a good idea? I already know it’s not, but that doesn’t stop me wanting to still do it. Megan deserves a kick ass party. And by holding back the location until tonight I’ve reduced the risk of getting found out. I type it out.

Old barn castle, Manor Lane, Lang raw fields

My finger hovers over the send button. Should I really do this? I think back to my sixteenth. I didn’t have a party. It was just me and one friend watching Muriel’s Wedding. I’ve never felt sorrier for myself. Fuck it, you only live once. I press send and down another vodka and coke. She deserves this.

Three hours later and the party is in full swing. It’s amazing what a good quality boom box and some portable disco lights can do to excite people round here. Everywhere I turn teenagers are telling me what an awesome party it is. I just have to keep warning them not to tell their parents. People hate me enough already.

I go on a search for Megan. I haven’t seen her properly since the start and I want to check that she’s alright. We should probably sing
happy birthday
soon. I’m so pleased I’ve made her happy. Without a mum to look out for her she deserves someone on her side.

I round the corner, towards the front of the building, and see her.

She’s on the floor, passed out. Her little friends are around her panicking, hitting her in the face and flapping their hands hysterically. Shit. This doesn’t look good. I rush over and push them aside.

‘Megan? Megan?’ I wail over the loud music, my stomach in knots.

No response. I feel her skin and it’s cold. She’s so bloody cold. Oh my fucking God. I lift her arm, but it falls back down, completely floppy. Goose pimples spread over my own body, as the situation dawns on me. She’s completely un-conscious. I feel her neck and thank God, she’s got a pulse.

I turn to her friends. ‘Call a fucking ambulance!’ I scream, my voice strangled.

They freeze, obviously uneasy. ‘But…we’ll get in trouble,’ one of them wails.

Are they
serious
? Their friend is lying here unconscious and they’re worried about themselves?

‘Not as much trouble as you’ll get in if your friend dies,’ I growl.

I grab the phone out of her hand and call it in. The operator tells me they’ll be here in around ten minutes. That’s the problem with living in the middle of bloody nowhere. I just hope to God she can last another ten minutes. I take off my coat and wrap it round her. Trust her to wear a skimpy gold dress.

‘We’re out of here!’ her friend yells. I turn to seem them running across the field.

Some fucking friends.

I lean over her, pressing my body against hers, hoping to transfer some heat. I wish Will were here. He’s always so warm bodied.

‘Don’t worry, Megs. Help is on the way,’ I say, my chest heavy with unshed tears. ‘Just stop playing silly beggar and you can stop me from having a heart attack, okay? Just wake up!’

I grab hold of her hand and press it against my cheek. Maybe it’ll warm her. It’s so limp. Too limp. Please don’t say she’s dying because I’m a fucking idiot who should have been watching her. I should have been more concerned, but here I was planning the party of the year and not giving a shit about her. About my friend. The person that looked to me for guidance. She’s so mature it’s easy to forget she’s only fifteen. Has she even drank before? I should have bloody asked her all of this before, but she’s just so confident. I suppose I just assumed.

I look up to see hordes of people running past us and across the field. Someone must have spread what’s happened. They’re clearly all shitting themselves, concerned that their parents will find out. I have bigger problems on my hands.

‘Don’t worry, Megs. I won't leave you,’ I whisper in her ear. I feel a tear slide down my cheek. Please,
please
be okay.

Ambulance sirens sound in the distance, but it’s too far away. It’s taking too long. Please God let it arrive quicker.

‘Nearly there, Megs. Stay with me, okay?’

The sirens are getting closer now. I mutter a few swear words under my breath. What’s taking so long? I suddenly worry they won't be able to find the place. It
is
in the middle of nowhere.

‘I’m just going to leave you for a second, Megan. Don’t go anywhere or I’ll kill you myself!’ I joke, kissing her on the cheek and making sure my coat is covering her as best it can.

I jump up and run towards the ambulance sirens, waving them over. They park to the side of the road and get out, hurriedly carrying their kits with them.

‘What’s happened?’ one of them asked.

‘I think she’s had too much to drink. She’s passed out. I can't wake her up!’ I wail, immensely relieved to have someone here to help.

‘Name?’

‘Megan.’

The paramedic hovers over her. He takes a torch out of his pocket, droops her eye down and shines it into her pupil. She’s not even flinching. Her eyes look dead. Please God, no. Guilt is growing inside me like a spreading disease.

‘Megan? Megan, this is a paramedic,’ he says in a deep voice. ‘Can you hear me? What have you had to drink tonight?’

Didn’t he fucking hear me? She’s passed out!

The other female paramedic gets an oxygen mask out and places it over her face. I can't even watch anymore. This is horrendous. Like a bad episode of Casualty, only it’s all my fault.

Before I know it they’ve transferred her onto a stretcher and are wheeling her to the ambulance doors.

‘I’m coming too. I’m…her sister!’ I jump into the back, clutching onto her hand which now has a drip in it.

‘Okay, fine,’ the woman smiles reassuringly.

She slams the door behind us and the siren starts sounding as we begin to move. Fuck, it’s horrible in here. With windows on either side its making me feel travel sick. She cuts off her dress with scissors and I think about how mental she’s going to go when she finds out. She saved up three week’s pocket money for that dress. Plastic things on wires are plugged onto her chest, a loud beeping beginning on the screen. It must be monitoring her heart.

Thank God, it seems steady.

‘Will you be able to ring your parents?’

My parents? Why on earth would I tell my parents about this? Oh yeah, she thinks we’re sisters. Shit. How the hell am I going to tell Phil that his baby daughter is in the hospital with alcohol poisoning? And it’s all because of me.

A dull long beep breaks my thoughts. I look up to see the paramedic leaning over Megan.

‘She’s flat lining!’ she shouts to her colleague. ‘Step on it.’

Oh my God! Her heart stopped! Chills run down my spine. I swallow convulsively, my stomach heaving.

She gets out those electric shock things I’ve seen on TV and starts rubbing them together.

‘Get back,’ she shouts at me. She places them on Megan’s chest.

Megan convulses, her whole body rising to the shock paddles, as if they were a magnet. The monitor starts beeping normal again. Thank God for that. I’ve never been more relieved in all my life. Thank you God.

‘We’ve got her back,’ she says, out of breath. She turns to face me, her eyes grave. ‘Time to call your parents.’

***

I take a deep breath and try to stop my stomach from quaking. Just press call. This is all of your stupid fault. You need to own up to it.

I press call and hold it towards my ear, my hand shaking.

‘Hello, Dog and Pond?’ Phil answers after four rings.

‘Hi…um, it’s Rose.’ My voice is no more than a squeak. Get it together, Rose. ‘There’s been an accident. You…you need to come to the hospital. It’s Megan.’

‘Megan?’ he asks, bewildered. ‘But she’s staying at Rachel’s. And what do you mean accident? Has she burnt herself with her straighteners again?’

I wish it were that simple.

‘I mean…look, it’s a long story. Just get here quick, okay.’

I hang up the phone and throw it to the floor. I have to hide and it has to be quick. I run back up to try and speak to someone in intensive care.

I grab a nurse. ‘Megan Cartwell? Any news?’

She looks sad and for a moment I fear the worst. Please God, no.

‘Her heart stopped again and we’ve had to pump her stomach, but we’ve managed to stabilise her. All going well, she should be transferred to a ward later tonight.’

Thank God! At least there’s
some
good news.

‘Her dad’s on his way, but I have to go.’ I turn and jog away, realising I need to pick up my phone from the floor. I must stop being so dramatic. It’s really not helping the situation.

‘But…Miss!’ she shouts after me.

I’m not stopping for anyone.

I run down the stairs and jump into a taxi. It’s okay Rose, I try to reason with myself. She’s alive. She’s fine.

Yeah, she just had to have her stomach pumped! My God, her heart stopped twice; that’s not normal! What if she's affected by it for the rest of her life? What if her face droops down on one side like she’s had a stroke? I could have ruined her life. Like it’s not enough with all her mates talking about her.

It’s all my fault. No one else but mine.

The taxi pulls up at home. I run in to beg Elsie for some money. She hands it over no problem, but asks for an explanation when I get back in. All I can do is vomit on the cat. Well, that’s not going to make her like me anymore.

***

Sunday 9
th
November

I wake up determined. Not that I slept at all. I tossed and turned the whole time, thinking about poor Megan all alone in her hospital bed. I can't believe I left her. I’m such a heartless bitch. I need to see her. I know she might not want to see me right now, and I’m hell as sure her Dad doesn’t want to see me, but I have to try. I have to try and apologise.

‘I’m really not sure this is a good idea,’ Elsie warns as we walk towards the ward she's apparently been transferred to.

‘I have to try, Els.’

She nods. She was so supportive when I told her. Focused on me calling the ambulance instead of being irresponsible to hold the party in the first place. She really is a saint.