When I finally got there, Lilith’s studio was empty; paint and brushes were laid out in their neat rows and the huge canvas dominated the sunlit room. I was glad that it was covered by a white sheet: one Blaine Albermarle hanging around the place was more than enough for anyone.
I continued my slow, uncomfortable journey down the corridor to Lilith’s bedroom. She was there, but unfortunately so was Blaine. ‘Good morning, Finn. You’re looking well rested,’ she observed.
‘Well, hello there,’ Lilith smiled. ‘It lives!’
‘Just about.’ I tried to sound casual about it, but my legs were acting as though they had just run a marathon – work was certainly going to be a laugh a bloody minute – and Blaine’s presence had just pissed on my day.
‘Sit down before you fall down, Finn,’ Lilith ordered, and I sagged into the nearest chair.
It was only then that I realised that she taking a stack of clothes from a drawer and carefully placing them into an open bag. ‘What are you doing?’ I asked.
‘Lilith’s packing, not that it’s any of your business whatsoever,’ Blaine replied.
I was glad I was already sitting down. ‘You’re what? Oh fuck...’ It was as though Royce was trying to gut me all over again: I hadn’t expected this moment to feel so bad.
Lilith came towards me, and I thought she was actually going to touch me in full view of Blaine. ‘Whoa, no – not that. God, I wouldn’t just disappear! I’ve got a day’s furlough, that’s all. Driving down to London for some award or other, for... well, it doesn’t matter, really. Just something I did ages ago. Blaine told me about it a couple of weeks ago, but I guess I got distracted.’ She deliberately kept her tone light, as though this would be a pleasant business trip, but there was a tightness around her mouth that told me she had no choice whatsoever about attending.
‘It’s hardly ‘some award or other’,’ Blaine remonstrated. ‘Lilith will be picking up the Helicon Award for European Artist of the Year, for her Players’ Triptych. It’s a very prestigious event. You’ve gone a little pale, Finn – perhaps you’ve pushed yourself a little too far for your first outing?’
‘I’ll be fine.’ Apparently my walk down the corridor was far more cause for concern than being fucked up the ass in a few hours’ time.
Blaine smoothed away an imaginary crease on Lilith’s bedspread. ‘I suppose while you’re here, I should tell you – it looks like you’ll be without both the women in your life this weekend, darling. My son’s invited me to Zurich to meet his latest girlfriend. Another ‘greatest love’, no doubt, until the next peroxide-embellished little slut appears on the horizon. ’
Both the women... The barb wasn’t lost on me. That Lilith had pulled away before she made contact, or that I had shut my mouth before I had expressed further dismay – it didn’t matter. When it came to Blaine’s eye for vulnerability, we may as well have rented a billboard and used that to advertise how we felt.
There was so much I wanted to say, but with Blaine showing no signs of leaving just yet, there was nothing I could do.
‘I’m coming back,’ Lilith mouthed behind Blaine’s back, and I almost allowed myself to believe her.
Lilith
I threw my suitcase onto the bed and took out my costume for the ceremony. It was less a dress than two sky blue silk handkerchiefs sewn together, and now I regretted my choice.
I winced as I eased my t-shirt over my head; I felt like I’d been attacked with an industrial sander. I stepped into the halogen-lit cavern of my hotel bathroom, and just twenty minutes before I was due to float down the red carpet in the style of a 21st Century icon, I stood in front of the full-length mirror and stared at my body in horror. In the hours it had taken for me to drive to London, my eczema had flared to such a degree that I looked like a victim of the Black Death.
Fifteen minutes to go. I stood under the shower’s sharp needles of spray and thought of Finn and how many times he must have been through this discomfort.
I thought of Finn and wanted him with me.
Ten minutes to go. I stood naked in the centre of my hotel room and wondered what the hell I was going to wear.
Finn
I arranged the pile of leftover food on my plate to spell ‘fuck’ just in time for Henry to clear away the dishes, and wondered if I could get away with my third refill in twenty minutes from the nearby wine bottle without Blaine giving me the death-glare across the table. I wore a pale pink casual shirt with a buttoned down collar that I guessed was one of Henry’s spares, and a pair of Armani jeans that I was only allowed to wear for work.