Page 60 of Fake Rocks
32
Tris
Running errands with Aunt Annie was the one thing I was allowed to do after the fallout from Tuesday night’s gig. After a frankly horrible night at the hotel where the contents of the whisky bottle disappeared then reappeared, I made my way home the following morning feeling like death. Thankfully, there was no-one in so I could crawl into my bed and hide out there until early Thursday morning before having to speak to anyone.
“Come on, Tris, get up, I want to get to the supermarket before lunch.” Aunt Annie barrelled into my bedroom and threw the curtains open. “And can you get a shower? It smells like a brewery in here.”
As she left the room, I wondered if she had any idea of what had gone on. But she was right, I couldn’t exactly wallow here again, tempting though it was.
I dragged myself out of my pit and into the bathroom. The shower was hot and refreshing and I let the water cascade over my head, hoping it could take any thoughts of Saff away and let them drain down the plughole.
She hadn’t replied to any of my messages.
I wanted to explain everything to her, to tell her the truth and explain my dad had made things sounds worse than they were. Everything I’d done had only ever been in the name of protection. Not violence for my own satisfaction.
When I got downstairs, I grabbed a cup of tea and a couple of slices of toast while Aunt Annie made her shopping list, without speaking to me. I couldn’t make out if she was upset with me or simply busy.
As she drove us to the supermarket, she began to talk. “Did you get chance to speak to your dad properly?”
My head snapped to face her. It was a good thing she was driving, otherwise we would have ended up in the back of the car in front. “What? How did you know I saw him?”
Aunt Annie shrugged. “Me and your dad keep in touch a bit. Col doesn’t know. He thinks your dad is a waste of space.”
Funny, I had exactly the same thoughts.
“But why? You know how Uncle Col feels about him.” There had been no love lost between the two of them over the years. He blamed Mum’s death on Dad, even though it had been an accident.
“I don’t know. Misplaced loyalty, I guess. He lost someone too, not just Col.” She kept her eyes on the road, not looking at me. I wondered if there was something else between them. I certainly wouldn’t put it past my dad.
“Did you tell him about the situation with Saff?”
“That you were being paid to go out with her?”
And there it was. Aunt Annie had told him. I was fuming. I couldn’t believe she would tell someone—and him of all people—about my business. I didn’t want to be in the car with her. I wanted to be anywhere else. I turned my face to the window and stared out at the scenery until we reached the shops.
I was still in a foul mood when we went in. The first thing I saw was the newspaper stand. The second was a picture of Saff with some bloke on the front page ofThe Informer.
“What the fuck?” I raced towards the stand and scooped up a copy, before turning to the relevant page.
The story covered two pages, mostly dominated by pictures of Saff and, as it turned out, Troy Carson in a club on the King’s Road getting hot and heavy with each other. The text speculated they were seeing each other again. From the way Troy had his hand up Saff’s skirt, there was every chance of that.
I wanted to buy up every copy of the paper and burn them. Burn my memories of her as I watched my life fall apart again.
“Tris? Are you okay?” Aunt Annie put her hand on my shoulder.
“Have you seen this?” I shook the offending publication in her face. “Barely twenty-four hours after we split, she’s out shagging some other bloke.”
Aunt Annie was struggling to keep a poker face. I knew her thoughts on Saff, and everything in the article appeared to prove her point. “I’m sorry,” she offered, her tone impassive. “Why don’t we go and get a coffee?”
She steered me over to the coffee shop and joined the queue. I felt as if all the eyes of the customers were on me, silently judging me for falling for someone who clearly didn’t feel the same way as I did. I tapped my fingers nervously on the tray, wishing the barista behind the counter would work quicker. Eventually, we got our drinks and I spotted a table in the corner, away from the crowd and carried our tray to it.
Aunt Annie sipped her hot chocolate with whipped cream, her fatty treat as she called it, and looked at me over the top of her mug. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”
I didn’t, but maybe talking about it would make it hurt less or try to make me understand. “I know you don’t like Saff, but you didn’t really get to know her. She’s nothing like the appearance she presents. Underneath that facade is a…” I tailed off, not quite knowing what to say. I thought she was a lovely person, inside and out, although her reaction to me the other night said otherwise.
“Hmm. The fact she’s already with another guy so soon after cutting you out of her life doesn’t make me agree with you, sorry. It’s clear she used you for her own gain, Tris, and you deserve more.”
Did I? I lied to her about being in prison. Did that make me as bad as she was? I hadn’t used her though, I genuinely thought I was falling in love with her. Up until the night of the gig, I thought she felt the same. We’d shared a lot, had things in common only people who had experienced what we had could understand. Had it all been for nothing?
