Page 52 of The Layover
I almost ask Francesca if she thinks she’s in shock. Actually,Imight be in shock.
Then Gemma takes the tissue offered to her, sniffling, and she props her glasses up on top of her head to wipe her eyes. She drags in a noisy, shaking breath. ‘Sorry, you two, sorry, I just … Wow, don’t drink on an empty stomach, right?’
She laughs. It’s hollow.
Francesca’s face creases, and she gives me a pained, helpless sort of look. I wish I had the answers.
I don’t know what happened with Gemma’s ex. I’m starting to understand a bit about her friendship with Kayleigh – if you can call it that; it sounds more like enmity whenever she opens her mouth to mention her.
I do know about Gemma’s dad, though. That he walked out on them when she was twelve, and he and her mum weren’tmarried so he just stopped paying the rent and they got kicked out and ended up moving. I know he has a second family, that Gemma has half-siblings and a stepmother she met once and never again. I know that he was meant to visit and see her in school holidays, but he wouldn’t show up, and she’d have to call Kayleigh and come spend the day with us lot while Nana looked after us.
I know he’s a deadbeat, and Gemma doesn’t talk about him, and her relationship with her mum broke down sometime when she was in sixth form. I used to come home from uni and she and Kay would be hanging out, and Mum said to me once, ‘I worry about that girl, you know.’
At the time, I thought she meant that Gemma was trouble. She got detention sometimes, and she’d be the one who’d drunk a bit too much at a party that Kayleigh would have to look after (or so the stories would go), and she didn’t apply herself a whole lot in school. She skated by until sixth form, when reality hit and she realised she’d have to really focus if she wanted to get into uni like Kay and their other friends.
Thinking about it now, I wonder if it was less about keeping up, and more about getting out, and if Mum worried about her for other kinds of reasons.
I never asked Gemma about it. I never thought to. She was Kay’s best friend and I always assumed if there was arealproblem, Kay would’ve told me what was going on.
Seeing her so upset now, though, watching her gulp down breaths and fight to stop the tears pouring down her cheeks even as they keep coming, I wish I had. I wish I’d been there, like I try to be for Kay and Myleene.
Francesca offers Gemma an open bottle of water, and she takes a swig, glancing to the brunette with a wobbly smile of thanks. I’m not sure if I should do something. Francesca’s gotthe practicalities handled, and it’d be weird to hug her. I’m not much of a hugger, normally.
Finally, Gemma gathers herself enough to say, ‘Anyway, if I leave, it’s just going to prove I’m not good enough.’
Francesca and I exchange glances.
Right. Guess we’re not talking about the dadorthe ex, then.
‘According to who?’ I ask her. ‘Kayleigh?’
She rolls her eyes, which seems like a ‘yes’.
‘But you’d rather workforher?’
Gemma flinches, cringing, and I get the impression that thought has only just occurred to her. She buries her face in her hands, groaning, ‘Oh, God, I am, aren’t I? As if I’m ever going to get promoted whenshe’llbe the one in charge of my career. And everyone’s going to know that I pitched the promotion and she got it instead and they’re all going to laugh at me behind my back, and … How am I supposed to show my face there? How can Inot?That’s a thousand times more embarrassing. And she’s going to lord it over me forever. Between that and me barely making the wedding in time … Ugh. God, I actually hate her.’ She laughs, though, like it’s a joke.
Does she mean that in the same way as she has Kayleigh’s number saved as ‘bitch’ (with a sparkle emoji), like it’s a sort of long-suffering affection?
Looking at her tear-stained face, I don’t think so.
I’m about to ask why she bothers being Kay’s friend if that’s the case, but Francesca catches my eye and gives a small shake of her head. They must’ve talked about this earlier already.
Francesca rubs Gemma’s back, offering her the water again.
She says, ‘Maybe you’re thinking about this the wrong way. Maybe it isn’t that you’d prove youaren’tgood enough for them – but proving you’retoogood for them. If they’ve overlooked you like you said, if you’ve been cheated out of a job that ought to have been yours, wouldn’t it be less like throwing your toys outof the pram and more like giving them the middle finger and a big ‘F you!’ when you find something better, at a place thatdoesvalue you?’
Gemma snorts, the sound thick with snot. She cuts Francesca a flat look, arching an eyebrow. ‘What, like you and Marcus? Give me a break, hon.’
Francesca recoils a bit. ‘That’s not—’
‘Itis. If anybody should understand why I don’t want to leave, it’s you. You’re clinging to this idea of being with Marcus because it’s too mortifying to admit defeat, right? And there’s still a chance to win, as long as you’ve got skin in the game. You can still make a comeback.’
‘I …’ But Francesca trails off, not having much of a retort to that. She blinks a couple of times, turning her face away, and I wonder if Gemma’s words cut a little too deep. I’m at a loss, though, not sure how to navigate any of this. I don’t know how to comfort Gemma if she’s taking the stance that she doesn’twanthelp, like she’s accepted her fate, and just like I couldn’t bring myself to write that speech for the wedding reception, I can’t bring myself to tell Francesca that it’s okay, I’m sure Marcus will choose her.
It’d be great for us if he did, but …
Is she even really his type?She’s so …soft. Gentle, and warm. Wouldn’t he walk all over her? Take over with his arrogance and ego, while she disappeared into the background? Hardly much of apartner.
