It’s been a day of talking so far. Lots and lots of talking. First of all, I was woken up by a call from my mother who was, as I predicted, very, very angry. Not just angry, but disappointed. She can’t understand why her ’33-year-old daughter’, who she ‘raised so well’, could have ‘got in a car with drunk men’ and ‘allowed one of them to crash’. Looking back now, of course I wish I hadn’t got in that car, but it really didn’t occur to me for a second that Finn might have been under the influence. Like, why would I assume a person would want to drive his own car while drunk? Risking his own expensive car and his own precious life. Why would that cross my mind? Next up, she laid into me about Debbie. She wanted to know why I’m not taking my wedding planning seriously and why I would be so rude to Debbie. I tried to explain that I wasn’t trying to disrespect her, but she wouldn’t listen. Apparently, if I apologise to Debbie at the party tonight, she’ll reconsider planning my wedding – but why would I want her to do that? I didn’t want her in the first place, so I’m certainly not going to beg her to come back to me, after she flounced off. Finally, my mum also wanted to confirm that I’ll be in attendance at the family Christmas party tonight – I don’t think anything less than a fatal accident (in which I died) would get me out of this family party.
Next up, I had to talk to the police about the accident. I told them everything I knew as Leo watched from the doorway. It was simple enough, telling them what I remembered, and they’re happy Dylan and I had nothing to do with the crash, and that we got in the car in good faith. I’m not sure what’s going to happen to Finn, but I imagine he’s in big trouble.
I’ve also just finished up on the phone with Dylan, who called me to see how I was doing. He has similar injuries, but nothing more serious than bruising. Putting on your seatbelt when you get in a car is just one of those things you do, without really thinking about it, but it was those four seatbelts that saved our lives last night. Without them, who knows what would have happened. I will always, always remember to put my seatbelt on when I get into cars now, and every time I do I will be reminded that I am alive because of them.
Dylan also reminded me that he plans to honour his promise, and open up more about his private life. There are only a few days until Christmas now. I have a lot of information about Dylan, more than I need to write this book… except the important stuff. If I’m going to get everything I need before Christmas, I need to go now and get this last little bit of info so I can crack on, finish the book, and put all this business behind me.
I know I should probably rest up, and try and make things right with Leo, but he can hardly talk to me today. So I can stay here, in the dog house, and maybe have a row if I’m lucky, or I can go and do my job – I know which one will benefit us more in the long run.
Moving hurts a little, but it’s not a problem. I’m just quite stiff, which is making getting dressed a little tricky.
‘What are you doing?’ Leo asks from the doorway, wiping his paint-covered hands with an old rag. He must be doing something to the house. He’s always doing something, not that we ever really have anything to show for it.
‘I’m going to work,’ I tell him.
He just laughs, angrily.
‘Don’t you think you should rest? And probably avoid that crowd for a while,’ he suggests.
‘It’s work, Leo. You should probably avoid fires, but it’s your job. And anyway, I’m nearly finished.’
‘You were in a car accident that was his fault. Just take a day off, for God’s sake.’
I stop what I’m doing and stare at him. I don’t know what surprises me more: the fact he’s blaming Dylan or that he thinks he can tell me what to do.
‘This wasn’t Dylan’s fault,’ I tell him. ‘But even if it was, this is work, I need to finish this job so I can get paid and we can buy things like eggshell paint and £600’s worth of flowers.’
Leo just shakes his head.
‘Fine. Go. Don’t forget the party tonight.’
‘I won’t,’ I tell him. ‘I’m going to take some stuff with me so I can get ready and head straight there.’
‘So that’s you out for the rest of the day?’
‘Yeah…’
‘OK, then,’ he says dismissively, heading back downstairs.
For a moment I just sit on the end of our bed, thinking. Why is he so mad at me? I know I was in a bad situation, but it wasn’t my fault, and I’m absolutely fine. No harm done. Why does he have to be mad at me? Why can’t he just go back to loving me?
I get dressed, slowly and carefully, and apply my make-up. As well as my usual face-full, I’ve applied concealer and powder to my chest too, just where you can see my bruises above the top of my off-the-shoulder jumper. You don’t realise just how much damage seatbelts actually do you in the process of saving you. The bruises across my chest and my shoulder are huge, but definitely better than any of the alternatives.
I pick up my rose-gold dress from last night, considering whether or not to wear it tonight, only to see that the sequins have come off where my seatbelt was. Six hundred pounds, down the drain, just like that. I find another dress in my wardrobe, a black, sparkly, bodycon dress that will be fine for tonight. It’s a bit short for a family party, maybe, knowing how judgemental my lot are, but it has a high neck that will cover my bruises and it looks fabulous.
I scan an eye across my shoe collection. I’m not entirely sure I’ll be able to get my bruised foot into a heel, but the only other kinds of shoes I have are trainers. I’ll wear my sparkly gold Converse today and pick up some flat pumps before I head to the party – see, I can be sensible when I need to be.
‘See you later,’ I call out, as I reach the front door.
For five seconds I hear nothing, but then…
‘Bye.’
If that’s the way he wants to be, so be it.