Heart of Glass Read online

  He pushed himself a little further in. “You’re mine, Bella, and I’ll never let you go.”

  Chapter 13

  IN THE FLESH

  Darlin’ darlin’ darlin’

  I cant wait to see you remembrin’ your love

  Is nothing without you in the flesh

  Blondie

  February 14th, Valentine’s Day. I wandered exhausted up the hill, the sun beating down on my school hat, my bag heavy with homework. My new shoes had given me blisters on my heels that were threatening to take a trip down to my toes if I didn’t take them off soon and my stockings were sticking to my legs. So far, the New Year had heralded nothing but positives. Hopefully, Valentines Day would bring another.

  Stopping at the mailbox, I dropped my bag with a thud and lifted the lid. There was a lot of mail. On the top of the pile was a large envelope, too big for the letterbox it had been folded in half. I flattened it against my leg and read the label. Seeing my name on the front, I ripped at it with the type of enthusiasm I reserved for the last day of school. It had to be from Ben.

  The writing inside, though disguised, read

  ‘Happy Valentines Day, Pussycat xxx’

  Nobody but Ben ever called me that. I kissed the spot where he’d scrawled the words. I was one happy girl.

  Closing the front door, I rifled through the rest of the mail before putting it on the hall table. To my surprise, there was another envelope for me and the address had been typed. I stuck nail into the seal and pulled out the handwritten sheets, no idea what it was all about.

  Dearest Bella,

  I hope you get this in time for Valentine’s Day. I won’t be able to call you so I thought I would write. Do you like your card? Every word is true, my darling Bella. I can’t wait to see you again. I’ve been so lonely here in Melbourne without you. All I have is Uni and football but that doesn’t satisfy me, not the way you do. You make me laugh, Pussycat. You are my life.

  I love you Bella. Please love me back.

  Ben x

  I stared at the words, mesmerised. He loved me.

  ***

  I was nauseous with excitement for my first meeting with Ben in three months. I wanted to show him I had hadn’t changed, that I was the same girl he’d made love to in the meadow, despite the schoolgirl tag. My hair was the same, hanging down my back and decorated with small braids and colourful glass beads. It had taken hours to achieve and would take minutes to ruin once Ben threw me onto the bed in a fit of passion, at least that’s what I hoped he’d do. My dress was the long, flowing, batik type that I favoured at the time and had bought in bulk, having discovered that batik was cheap and the little bell thingies really jingled when you moved. It drove Mum insane.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Bella,” she said, “You’re not going out in that thing are you? You look like a refugee! The jumper is at least two sizes too big.”

  I shrugged. “It’s Ben’s and I like it.”

  All morning long, I drifted around in my bedroom, listening to my favourite Blondie album and playing ‘In the Flesh’ over and over. Debbie Harry was right. I couldn’t wait to see Ben, I couldn’t resist him. I wasn’t deaf dumb or blind. And now the time had come.

  Breathless with anticipation, I jumped the bus to the city. I felt so grown up, like one of those girls in the ‘Razzamataz’ ads. I was young, carefree and it was a beautiful day. Swinging my bag, I strolled along in the sunshine, humming ‘In the Flesh.’ I thought about how Ben’s body had felt the last time I had seen him. I longed to feel him again. I smiled at the people I passed; it was a fabulous day. Could people tell was going to meet my love? Was it written all over my face?

  As I reached the corner waiting for the lights to change, I looked around. The cafes were overflowing onto the footpath. People bustled along, Saturday shopping in hand. Everyone was loving the sunny autumn day. Then I saw him. Ben. He was coming out of a café across the street, looking his most devastating. The mere sight of that body made me quiver, I wanted to feel his skin against mine, to have him again. Ironic, that I’d spent so much time avoiding sex and now all I could think about was his body and what it could do to me. I raised my hand, trying to catch his attention but he didn’t notice. He was standing on the opposite curb.

  While I waited, a tall blonde girl came out of the café too, shoving her wallet into her oversized shoulder bag. Her blonde hair hung in a silky sheath around her shoulders, which were bared to the afternoon sun in a skimpy white peasant top. In two strides, she had reached the curb too, and linked her arm through Ben’s. I was puzzled. Then, experiencing a moment of clarity, a sense of foreboding swept through me, as I watched Ben turn and smile into her eyes, dropping a kiss on her forehead, just like he did to me. He’d whined and pressured me for almost two years to have sex with him and the minute I’d given in, he’d moved on to…..on to …. Bo Derek!

  The lights changed. The people around me began to walk in all directions, jostling me as they went. I was rooted to the spot. I couldn’t move. My legs felt like blocks of stone, too heavy to lift and my eyes were saucers, glued the couple who had stepped off the curb and were walking towards me. Helpless, I reached out to the pole beside me, trying to control the dizziness that was surrounding me in waves as I wretched into the gutter. Please don’t let me faint, I thought. Not here, not in front of them. Already I was head to foot in vomit, to lie unconscious in it would be the icing on the cake. I looked up. Oh God, they were coming my way.

  As they reached the middle of the road, Ben looked across, seeing me clinging to the lights and staring at him. I saw him swear. I saw the blond girl walking beside him; oblivious to the tension I could see in his body. He couldn’t get away and I couldn’t run without releasing the entire contents of my stomach onto the pavement again.

  As he stepped onto the curb, I stood tall and looked into his eyes, trying to ignore the fact that my top and shoes were laden with chunks of vomit. And for the second time ever, I hit him. “I despise you.”

  The girl looked on in surprise, though her perfect features barely registering emotion. “Oh Ben, you’ve been screwing a little schoolgirl. How have you managed to keep her tucked away all this time? You naughty boy.”

  “I’m not a little school girl,” I bit back, as I pushed between them and ran for the bus stop, sending a splatter of spew onto her white wedge heels.

  “Bella, wait!” Ben called after my retreating figure. Then he ran too, following me as I vanished into the crowd.

  I ran until my stomach hurt. I ran until I thought I couldn’t hear him chasing me. I saw the bus coming to my stop and I ran straight in front of it.

  “Bella…!”

  I turned. He’d followed me. The bus was coming and he had followed me.

  “Ben!” I cried out for him to move and then I ran, shoving him from the path of the bus and onto the footpath.

  Ben’s head was cradled in my lap, covered in spew. He was fine, a bit shaken, but fine. The tears were stinging my eyes, my relief releasing itself in ragged breaths from my chest.

  “You saved me, Bella. You saved my life. ”

  “I should have let you die.”

  He gazed up he my face, he knew I didn’t mean it. “I won’t forget this.”

  “Believe me, I’m going to try.”

  ***

  For the next week, Ben rang constantly. Of course, I had no wish to speak to him other than to know he was safe. If anything, I would have liked to use his balls as a noose to strangle him with but it wasn’t an option so I ignored him instead. By Monday, he was gone and the phone stood silent in the hall. Every time it rang, I pricked my ears in expectation and ran to answer it just so I could have the pleasure of hearing him crawl but it was never him.

  Then, a package arrived by courier, its return address was not familiar but I recognised the handwriting at once. With an air of finality, I held it over the open bin. But, with the full intention of gloating over my own inner strength, I ripped the package open. In
side, were a Neil Young album and a letter. I picked it up. I put it to my face. It smelt of him. I had no choice. I had to read it.

  My Dearest Bella,

  Please, believe me when I say this a terrible misunderstanding. The girl you saw me with was a friend. I can see you’re already laughing at that old line and thinking, “as if I’d fall for that!” But it’s true. She is my friend and there’s NEVER been anything more than friendship between us. Our families have known each other since before we were born. I love you so much, Bella. You should have let me explain. You shouldn’t have run from me. I think you are the greatest girl in the world. You belong to me and we’re meant to be together so please don’t shut me out. Instead, listen to ‘Lotta Love’ and remember the beautiful day we spent together in the field. We can have so many more if you’ll just forgive me.

  Yours always

  Ben x

  I stared at the letter for a long time before I smoothed out the creases. I tucked it under my pillow. Ben could say anything he liked but the truth never lied and if he could go out and have a good time, then so could I. Fuck him. I didn’t belong to him or anybody. Fuck him. It was too late for apologies. I never wanted to see him again.

  Chapter 14

  DON’T THROW IT ALL AWAY

  We can take the darkness and make it full of light

  Let your love flow back to me

  How can you leave and let this feeling die?

  The Bee Gees

  “Shit, shit, shit.”

  I studied at my timetable for the sixth time and stared up and down the hall. Room 314, where the hell was Room 314? The building was hopeless, a bloody rabbit warren, it had so many narrow corridors that led to nowhere. Some of the rooms were not even in numerical order and at the rate I was going I’d be late for the workshop. Not a good way to start 1982 or my university career.

  I wandered, lost, along the hall, wishing I hadn’t thrown the campus map away. As it was, Mum and Dad had gone ballistic when I told them I’d signed up for this course. Imagine their faces if I failed because of nonattendance.

  “What use is creative writing in the real world?” Dad had said. “You’d be far better off studying psychology; at least you could teach or be a social worker.”

  “I’m doing it for an outlet, Dad. Some of my other courses are pretty heavy.”

  “Hmph,” he’d grunted, by way of acceptance. “I suppose you know what you’re doing.”

  Mum, of course, laid on a guilt trip complete with baggage, which went half way around the globe without stopping to refuel. She gave in with a parting dig, “Well, it’s your life Bella. We’ve done the best we can, paying for your education and everything. Heaven forbid that old fools like us should have any sort of sensible opinion.”

  Anyone would think I had signed up for Terrorist Studies 101.

  Sprinting around the corner, my eyes fixed on the door numbers and counting ahead, I lurched headlong into a boy coming the other way.

  “Fuck!” he cried, as our heads collided and papers and books flew into the air.

  I stopped, rubbing my forehead. A dismal pile of books lay at my feet. There was no way I’d avoid being late now. “Why don’t you watch where you’re going?”

  “You could be a bit more careful yourself, it’s a hallway, not a bloody grand prix track.”

  “Sorry, I was in a bit of a hurry.”

  We bent down to retrieve the contents of his ring binder. Loose papers were strewn up and down the hall and he tutted quietly to himself as he looked at them. “It’s OK, I’ve got a hard head but I think my nose is broken.” He looked me up and down. “I guess you’re new.”

  “Am I that obvious?”

  “You looked lost and ridiculous with that enormous pile of books you’ve borrowed from the library. Nobody works during ‘O’ week, sweetheart. You just meet the tutors and drink.”

  The boy reached over and began to stack my books for me.

  “I was looking for Room 314, but it’s not where it should be.” I must have sounded like a complete idiot. Rooms don’t usually get up and move of their own accord.

  “Nothing around here is where it should be. Grab your things and I’ll lead the way, I know the room.”

  I followed him along the corridor and around the corner. His lanky legs moved so quickly across the carpet, I had to run to keep up. “I’m Annabelle Stone.”

  “I’d say nice to meet you, Annabelle, but until I get the bill for my nose I’m not sure whether it is. I’m Justin Fitzgerald. Are you in Prof. Phillips workshop?”

  “Yes, how did you know?”

  “I saw your papers.”

  “What’s he like?”

  “He’s an arsehole, everybody hates him. Make sure you’re prepared or he’ll knock you down to size like that.” He snapped his fingers in the air.

  “But I’m only doing his course for fun.”

  “Prof. Phillips’ classes are not fun, Annabelle, believe me. They’re a shitload of work.” I bit my lip; maybe it wasn’t such a good idea. Perhaps I should have done psychology like Dad said.

  We stopped outside a grey door. Looking back down the hall, I wondered how I could have missed it the first time. I had walked past it at least twice. “Thanks for the advice. I hope your nose is OK.”

  Justin smiled back. “I’ll live. Listen, are you off in an hour or so?”

  “Yeah, I’m finished after this. Why?”

  “A few mates of mine are catching up in the bar. Why don’t you join us, meet a few people? Our male bonding goes a bit too far sometimes. We could do with some female input.”

  “Sounds great, I’ll see you there.”

  He waved goodbye as he walked back the way he had come. “Good luck with Phillips.”

  I poked my head around the door to the room. Everything was grey, except for a little man who sat at the end of the table with dark unruly hair and a large pipe dangling from the corner of his mouth. I gathered that was Phillips. The other students, already seated with pens poised, were clearly waiting for my arrival. It had shades of Miss Gibson and Year Ten Biology written all over it.

  “Sorry, I’m late,” I mumbled. “I got lost.”

  ***

  Little more an hour later, I stood on tiptoes in the door of the University Bar. My insecurities were jumping up and down attempting to bite me on the bum but I was determined to begin my new life. Bella, the party girl. That was me. All I needed was the party. My eyes scanned the heads looking for Justin. I couldn’t even remember what he’d been wearing, though I knew he was tall and thin, at least 6” 2”, with brown short hair that was shaved at the sides and a rather obnoxious little rat’s tail cut at the back. I looked around. It was hopeless. Every boy in the bar looked like that. Biting my lip, I craned my neck over the masses of over-dyed denim and stretch jeans. This wasn’t fun at all, it was a serious a mistake.

  “Annabelle! Over here!”

  A hand poked put from above the heads. I put on my best smile and tried to look cool as I walked towards it.

  Justin gave me a friendly grin. “Guys, this is Bella, the girl who tried to give me a home nose job. You don’t mind if I call you Bella do you?”

  “No, go right ahead.” I looked expectantly around the group.

  “This is Phil Burns. He’s filthy rich but don’t hold that against him. He’s finishing his Fine Arts Degree, while he waits to inherit the Burns millions. Pity he’ll never use it. It’s a waste of talent. His daddy has a yacht at the Royal, so be nice to him and he might take you for a ride one day.”

  Phil thrust out a hand and shook mine furiously. He didn’t look filthy rich; he looked ordinary and nice with little gold glasses perched on the end of his nose and a rather neat checked shirt. His hair was the only clue to his creative streak, being a prime example of eighties styling with spikes and blue streaks in all the wrong places. “Nice to meet you Bella, would you like a drink, a wine or something?”

  He turned to the bar, and a vision of Astro Boy c
ame to mind, his gelled locks nearly taking out my eye. “Hey Shelley, get us a Riesling, sweetie, would you?”

  I’d never met a boy who addressed girls as ‘sweetie’ before. It was quite….well…. sweet.

  “And this is Steve Cooper,” Justin added. “You can ignore him if you like, he has no money at all but he thinks he’s God’s gift and he’s a bit of a sleaze, so don’t let him come on to you.”

  A dark haired guy leapt from his stool.

  “Coops,” he corrected, grasping my hand and raising it to his lips. I tingled as tiny tremors ran along my arm and into my spine. Then I blushed again. He was very handsome. His voice was deep against my hand, his eyes never leaving my face. “Would you like a seat, Bella?”

  “Thanks.”

  I hopped onto the edge of the barstool. So far, so good. They all seemed nice, no axe murderers or weirdoes.

  Coops turned to Justin, punching his upper arm. “Thanks, mate! I don’t think you should be responsible for introductions any more. You make me sound like a pervert and Phil sounds like some sort of pretentious private school boy who should be sitting at the Polo Club drinking whisky on the rocks.”

  “What do you do, Steve?” I asked. Pervert wasn’t an occupation, more of a lifestyle choice.

  “I’m a carpenter.”

  “Oh. How did you meet Justin then?”

  “We went to school together,” Phil said.

  “Ahh. So you’re not a ‘pretentious private school boy’ then?”

  Justin laughed. “Well, he is actually. We met in primary school and then Phil went to Grammar for secondary. We stayed friends though. No one else can put up with him and we like his yacht.”

  For a moment I felt a stab of regret. I would never be able to say that about my school friends. I didn’t even know how I would introduce them.

  “This is my friend Lucy, who didn’t talk to me for six months because she wanted my boyfriend and then got pregnant to him before the baby died and she ran away to hippy commune.” I was sure that’d go down a treat. Besides, I didn’t believe we’d be friends a year from now, let alone in ten years. We were going our separate ways.