Promise Me: Some friendships are made to be broken (Beggar's Choice #1) Read online

  I’d had a long look at my life this year prompted by Charlie suddenly seeming to get serious about Noa. It had turned a mirror on my own life, and suddenly I’d had a vision of myself growing old and still being lonely - no family or kids of my own, just this long winded obsession with a best friend who would never in a million years look at me that way. After copious amounts of wine with Viv, who’d violently agreed with me, I’d decided to move on Charlieless with my life.

  I’d had layers cut into my hair and some deep, toffee coloured highlights put in. I’d used some of my meagre savings to buy a new wardrobe that flattered my figure, and this had obviously worked in some way because I’d even been out on a few dates. My absence hadn’t gone down that well with Charlie, who’d obviously become used to my being on the other end of his string, but he’d been busy with Noa and a mini promotional tour and then his preoccupation with Sid meant I didn’t see him much anyway as we’d visited him at different times. Staying here with him however, was seriously going to put a spoke in the wheel of my plan but I was determined to carry on if I could. I was not going to end up as some deranged old cat lady who had long conversations with complete strangers at bus stops.

  “Mabes,“ comes the roar from downstairs again and shouting out “I’m coming,” I open the door and charge down the stairs. I bet most people think rock stars live in ultra-modern penthouse flats full of cutting edge designs, so Charlie’s home would definitely come as a surprise. He lives in a beautiful old house in Hampstead. It’s huge and rambling, set back from the road with a massive garden that backs onto the Heath. Over the years he’s spent a lot of money on it converting the attics so that the house now boasts six bedrooms with en suite bathrooms. Downstairs there’s a huge lounge, dining room, study, fully fitted gym, kitchen and laundry room and the whole house is decorated in creams, sands and blacks. A woman could definitely make it more of a home but the bare bones of it are stunning.

  He’s waiting at the bottom of the stairs, pacing back and forth twirling his car keys on his finger and I pause. He looks beautiful as usual, his blond hair in its usual, over long mess that somehow looks intentional. He’s wearing old faded jeans that cling to his world class backside, with a black v-neck jumper under which I can see the slightly stretched neck of a white t-shirt. He has an old pair of black Vans on his feet, and his sleeves are rolled up showing the tattoos on his arms. He doesn’t have loads of tattoos but what he does have are top class. They’re on his forearms and back mainly, and consist of many designs blending into a beautiful mélange of colours which his olive coloured skin sets off well. He’s got a dragon twisting up his forearm which if you look closely is smoking a cigarette, some stars representing his mum, Sid, me, and Bram and Seth, the other boys in the band. He’s also got a full back tattoo, which is the figure from the cover of the band’s first breakout album. This was a back view of a naked woman with long red hair wrapped in sheets leaning forward. The artist who designed the cover is not only a friend of Charlie’s, but also a tattoo artist, and it had taken ages to do but was well worth it. My personal favourite though is the little pug dog with a diamante collar and wearing a purple wig, which is on his left forearm and he says it’s there to remind him of my name. When he told me this my only reply was that I hoped it wasn’t his wanking arm because it might put him off, which made him snort beer down his nose.

  Catching sight of me he snatches his sunglasses and phone from a side table and gestures impatiently. “Come on, we’re going to get stuck in traffic if we don’t hurry. Sid’s had long enough in that place as it is.”

  Biting my tongue, I don’t remind him that the reason we’re late is because he was flirting with some journalist when I arrived, although I was flattered by his undisguised relief at seeing me, and the way he seemed to completely forget her as he rushed my suitcase upstairs. I was less flattered however, by his telling her that I was his sister.

  We leave in a flurry of door slamming, and once ensconced in the comfy leather bucket seats of his swanky, dark grey Porsche, I slide my sunglasses on and turn the music down to a more conversational level. Wherever he is, there’s always music blasting. He slides a sidelong look at me taking in my body in one long practised move. “You look gorgeous,” he says softly.

  “Thank you. It’s an old dress but I like it. Have you spoken to Sid today?” I ask, admiring his long, tanned fingers that are twisting nervously on the steering wheel.

  “Only to arrange the time to pick him up.”

  “Did he seem excited?”

  “Yeah,” he says and there’s hesitation in his voice but he relents when his sidelong glance catches my enquiring look. “A bit nervous too. I think he’s spent so much time working towards this that now it’s here he’s a bit unsure.”

  “I expect he is,” I say comfortingly. “I mean it must be a bit like being in prison. You spend all your time waiting to leave and then when it’s time to go you find that the actual prison feels safe now.”

  He nods and then laughs sharply. “Fucking expensive prison, although the nurses are definitely not prison guard material.”

  “Not like those ones guarding Bea Smith on ‘Prisoner Cell Block H‘.”

  He laughs. “Oh my god I remember how you used to love that programme. Sid and I used to come home blitzed from the pub, and then deliberately ask you loads of questions just to hear you summing up the fucking, absolutely ridiculous plotlines. You used to get so cross.”

  The next hour passes the way it usually does with Charlie and I, being a mixture of comfortable silences and then effortless chatter about anything and everything. He always says in interviews how thick he is because he never went to college, but he’s naturally curious and reads so much he’s never boring.

  Finally, we’re pulling into the small Suffolk village where the rehab centre, ‘Cloudy Haven’ is based, and he suddenly becomes tense again. Catching sight of the sign telling us that we’re five miles away he sighs and rolls his head back on the headrest. “I hate that fucking name,” he says quietly. “It’s so fucking misleading. I mean Cloudy Haven is such a fucking fluffy, bullshit name which in no way covers what’s actually happening in there.”

  “I know,” I say in an equally quiet voice. “It makes it sound as if they’re all floating around on their clouds effortlessly, not coming out of major drug withdrawal.”

  Mercurial as always, his mood changes. “If I owned a rehab centre I’d call it a name that really sums up what’s going on like ‘The Vomiting Villa’ on Diarrhoea Drive!”

  I smile. “Or what about ‘Paranoia Palace’ or ‘Molly Manor‘?”

  He laughs and then sobers.

  “What’s wrong?” I say reaching across and touching his restless fingers as we crunch up the drive and come to a stop outside an imposing old manor house. Instantly he grabs my fingers and holds my hand tight.

  “I’m just scared,” he says in such a low voice I can hardly hear him. “It was okay while he was in here and I could visit every day. I could shove it to the back of my mind because he was here. They were doing what they get paid for and I knew he had the best care possible, but once he’s out of here, there’s just me and there’s no fucking way that I’m adequate enough for this. I don’t want to fuck this up. Mum would be looking to me to sort this out if she was alive and I couldn’t bear it if I fail him and he starts back on the drugs. I swear to Christ just the thought of it makes me so mad. I’ll fucking kill anyone that tries to give him any of that shit again.”

  “Hey, hey,” I say trying to calm him down. There’s sweat on his forehead and a fine tremor in his hands, and I think it’s the first time that I realize truly how terrified he is and how much he needs me to be with him on this. He’s always been the big brother and he was the man of the house at far too young an age. To fail to protect someone he loves is his ultimate fear, and Sid’s addiction makes him about as powerless as he probably felt when his dad lived at home and the house was full of violence.

  “Li
sten to me,” I say urgently. “You keep saying you all the time but it isn’t just you, it’s us like it always is. I’ll stay with you and I’ll help as much as I can. We’re a team and you know I’m always here for you.” He sighs and stares out of the window and I try to think of something to distract him. “What’s your Split Second Song?” I ask, suddenly inspired. Charlie and I have been playing this game since we were kids, whereby we challenge each other to name the song that most sums up our feelings at that moment. This is ideal for us because we’re both mad on music but it’s certainly expanded my music knowledge because Charlie, being in the business, has an encyclopedic knowledge of music.

  He’s distracted as I hoped, and he thinks for a second. “‘In Between Days’ by The Cure,” he decides, and looks at me almost challengingly. I wonder what he’s actually saying with this because, despite having an upbeat tune it’s actually quite a melancholy song about how empty the singer’s life is without his love. When I don’t say anything he smirks. “Your turn.”

  This choice is so easy that I don’t even have to think about it. “‘Umbrella’ by Rihanna,” I say promptly.

  “Told you I’ll be here forever,” he quotes and looks at me searchingly when I nod.

  “Said I’d always be your friend,“ I quote back.

  He sighs and presses a sudden warm kiss on my hand. Looking down at my fingers he smooths them and I’m almost too distracted by the lingering warmth from his kiss to hear him mutter under his breath. “Where’ve you been for the last four months then Mabes? I missed you every day.”

  Before I can reply he has exited the car and is coming round to open my door and the moment is lost.

  Three

  When we go into the manor Charlie is whisked away immediately to sign paperwork, or so that the pretty doctor can flirt with him, I’m not entirely sure which. I take a seat on one of the squashy settees and look around curiously. I’ve obviously been here before when I’ve been visiting Sid, but I’ve always just rushed through, intent on getting to his room. Looking around now it surprises me how much it looks like a very expensive country hotel. If it weren’t for the faint lingering smell of antiseptic, the fact that the clientele are sometimes pasty white and shaking, and that newspapers and television aren’t allowed, I’d probably like to stop here too.

  However, this place will always be tainted with the memory of bringing Sid here for the first time. He’d OD’d on cocaine the previous week and had lain in a hospital bed for a week looking awful, and also heartbreakingly as if he was wishing that he’d succeeded. Charlie had been devastated from the second that he’d woken me up in the middle of the night begging me to go to the hospital, and he’d become consumed with trying to light a fire up Sid’s arse and get him motivated enough to quit. I still don’t know what did it but one day Sid woke up and announced that he was going to rehab. The record company were ecstatic of course, and within a few hours Charlie and I were driving him here. It had been a sombre trip. Sid looked dreadful - sweaty faced with greasy hair and a perceptible tremor running through his body. Charlie was unusually quiet and I knew this was because he felt guilty for not noticing Sid’s condition in time. This in turn made me cross because it wasn’t just Charlie‘s fault, none of us had seen it. I suppose this was because he’d gradually withdrawn from all of us, preferring to spend his time with the arseholes that made up his inner circle.

  “Oy Mabes” comes a loud shout which draws me from my memories and I exclaim in joy as Sid comes down the stairs. To my relief he looks completely different from the pitiful figure I’ve just been remembering. His body has gained some much needed weight and his skin is back to its normal tanned state. His long, messy, conker brown hair is shiny again and pulled back into a stubby ponytail, and he sports the same Hudson stubble as his brother. The two brothers actually look completely different. Sid takes after his mum with his dark hair while Charlie is the spitting image of his dad, and if it weren’t for their olive skin and deep blue eyes there would be little physical resemblance.

  “Sid!” I say happily, darting into the open arms that he raises to me as he reaches the bottom of the stairs, and I bask in the feeling of comfort and familiarity that his warm hug brings. “How are you feeling babe?”

  “Okay,” he smiles, but it’s a slightly tight smile that others might not see as hesitant, but I recognize immediately after years of living with him.

  “Are you nervous?” I ask quietly.

  “A little bit,” he mumbles. “It’s a big step coming out of here you know. It’s frightening.”

  “You’ll be fine,” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck and hugging him tight. “We’re here for you and I absolutely know that everything is going to be alright this time.”

  “I should think it fucking will be,” comes Charlie’s voice from behind us. “Do you see him carrying any luggage? No, that’s because I’m doing it for the lazy twat. I’m going to doff my cap whatever the fuck that means, just as soon as I’ve put little Lord Fuckwit’s cases down and the feeling comes back into my fingers.”

  He sends a lightning quick glance at us embracing and an almost dark expression washes over his face, but it’s gone as soon as it was there. However, he doesn’t waste any time dumping Sid’s bags on the floor and peeling my hands from around Sid. “No feeling up the inmates Mabes,” he says and I exclaim in horror, but Sid just laughs loudly and then shoots his brother and I a questioning look.

  I raise my eyebrows in query but he just looks at Charlie who is now holding my hand, and then shakes his head slightly. I decide not to try and question him because Sid is just like Charlie, in that if he doesn’t want you to know anything you never will.

  After an exchange of thanks with the staff and some last minute quiet advice from his counsellor, we load Sid into the passenger seat of the car and I slide into the tight surrounds of the back seat. Charlie starts the car and moves off with his usual quick grace, handling the car’s burst of speed smoothly and I hear the familiar rattle of gravel under the wheels for what is hopefully the last time.

  We drive in silence for a while listening to the radio until a band comes on who are just starting to break through after winning a talent contest on TV. Charlie and Sid are united in hating these things where the acts seem to be more concerned with fame and money than the actual music, and they immediately launch into a diatribe against plastic boy bands. They’ve had this discussion hundreds of times but never seem to get bored. I ease into the familiarity of it feeling content because Charlie is so patently happy that it’s coming off him in giant waves.

  I look at his hands, one holding the steering wheel loosely while the other gesticulates wildly. He has lovely hands with long elegant fingers and neat nails. The sleeves of his jumper are still rolled up and as he changes gear I can see the veins in his muscled forearms and the colours of his tattoos move on his skin and I suddenly feel hot all over as something clenches inside me. For a wild moment I can almost see him poised over me with those arms moving as his hand pleasures me between my legs. The whole car seems suddenly hot and I can feel myself getting wet to my horror.

  I suddenly become aware that the conversation in the front has stopped and Charlie must have spoken to me because he’s watching me in the windscreen mirror. It may be a trick of the light but his eyes suddenly seem very dark.

  “Pardon?” I say in a squeaky voice, shifting sideways slightly to get some air from his open window. Perhaps a little cold air in my face will get rid of this heat.

  “I said are you alright Mabes?” he says, and is it my imagination or is his voice deeper than normal. “You’re very quiet.”

  For a second I can’t speak and our gazes lock but then Sid turns around.

  “Your hair looks different Mabes. Have you had it cut?”

  Evilly, I decide to toy with him a bit. “Different how? Different horrible or different nice?”

  “Jesus, I don’t know,” he says in a slightly panicked voice. “Just different di
fferent.”

  Charlie smirks, and catching my eyes in the mirror again he shakes his head at me. Taking pity on Sid I kindly let him off the hook. “I’ve had it cut and highlighted. Do you like it?”

  “Yeah, I really do,” he says considering. “You’ve had some new clothes as well Mabes. In fact you look sexy as fuck sweetheart.” Charlie shifts abruptly in his seat taking Sid’s attention away for a minute, but then he turns back to me and refocuses his spotlight on me. “Your hair’s a lot darker now isn’t it? Do you remember how red it was when we were kids?” Then he sniggers and turns back to Charlie. “Do you remember how she used to tell people that she wasn’t actually ginger, and that her hair was titian, only you had to tell her that she was pronouncing it wrong.” Charlie starts laughing really loudly and I sniff.

  “I do remember that,” I say snottily. “I also remember that he deliberately left it for a week before he told me.”

  The two brothers immediately crack up and just like that everything seems normal again as they do what they do best, which is uniting in taking the piss out of me.

  ***

  I come awake that night suddenly. I don’t know what’s woken me up because I was shattered when I fell into bed at Charlie’s house, but I’m wide awake now. I look at the clock and groan. Its 3.15 in the morning. Rolling over I look idly out of the window which I’d forgotten to draw the curtains over last night. I stay like this just drifting for a bit and then decide to get up and check whether Sid’s okay. He’d been quiet when we got back and I know Charlie was worried by this.

  Opening my bedroom door quietly I peer out but the house is silent and there’s no sign of anyone still up. I pad down the moon dappled corridor and pause outside Sid’s room to see if there’s any noise. I feel like a bit of a creeper and Charlie will almost certainly take the piss out of me if he catches me. However, just as I’m about to go back to bed there’s a click in the room and a strip of light shows under the door and this decides me. Knocking on the door lightly I whisper. “Sid, it’s me Mabel. Are you okay?”