To Be Someone by Louise Voss Read Free Book Online Page B

cellar—and he expected me to be pleased with him for using his initiative! Honestly, he is the limit.”
    She kissed the top of my head and tried to get a sneaky peek at the writing on my pad. Preempting her, I turned it upside down on my lap so the words weren’t visible. Mum was torn between being pleased that I was doing something creative to keep myself occupied, and being absolutely paranoid that she’d been cast in my “memoirs” as Mommie Dearest. We didn’t exactly have a very close mother-daughter relationship—not that it was bad, just very distant, in all senses of the word.
    After Mum finally left, I tried to get down to work. But being in hospital was not dissimilar to being on a promo tour, waiting ages for room service while an endless succession of people wanted things from you, and I found myself constantly interrupted. There was an orderly asking me to check off what I wanted for dinner from the menu list (although why bother, I thought—it all tastes the same when it’s pureed); a nurse wanting to change my dressings; the doctor checking on my skin graft; Rosemary the tea lady; and finally, when my patience was about to snap, my mobile phone rang.
    Sighing, I put down the notepad and wriggled laboriously across the mattress toward my locker, to reach the illicitly switched-on phone. Wriggling gradually was less painful than the direct lean-over.
    “Yes?” I snapped, holding the phone out of habit to my damaged left ear and wondering why I couldn’t hear anything.
    “Who is it?”
    Through my right ear and over the top of my head I could hear a faint guinea-pig squeak from the receiver, which alerted me to the problem. I transferred the phone to the other side, and the guinea pig turned itself into Justin.
    “Oh. It’s you,” I said unenthusiastically. I was still deeply hurt that he hadn’t called or visited.
    “H, Jesus, I’m so, so sorry. I can’t believe what’s happened to you. I came in the ambulance with you, you know. It was a nightmare—paps everywhere, people screaming. I’ll never forget the sight of you lying there on the floor with blood coming out of—”
    “If you don’t mind, Jus, I’d rather not know, thanks,” I interrupted stiffly. It was too humiliating even to contemplate.
    “Listen, baby, I’m totally cut up that I haven’t been able to visit you since, you know, but I’ve been doing PAs and a couple of TVs in South America. I told you I was flying out the day after the UKMAs, didn’t I?”
    First I’d heard of it. But I gave him the benefit of the doubt—after all, my memory of that night was probably not all that it should have been.
    “So why didn’t you call me, then?”
    There was a brief pause.
    “Man, H, I didn’t think you’d wanna hear from me. It was all my fault. You wouldn’t believe how shitty I feel about it.”
    He really did sound sincere, and I felt for him.
    “Oh, Justin, please. Of course it wasn’t your fault—it was my idea, wasn’t it? I talked you into it. Don’t give yourself a hard time. To be honest, I’m more gutted that you haven’t been in touch.”
    “Do you mean that?” I could hear the relief in his voice.
    “Of course, you moron.”
    “So how are you now, then? ”
    “Still in hospital, but better now that I’ve had my teeth capped, thanks. I broke both the front ones in different directions and it made me sound like Daffy Duck. And I expect you heard I lost my eye. I’m still deaf in one ear, I’ve got skin grafts on my face, a ton of stitches, and a broken nose. Oh, and a concussion, obviously.” I couldn’t face the prospect of more ham-fisted commiserations, so I plowed on. “But that’s almost better, and hopefully I’ll be going home next week. So when are you next in London?”
    “Not for a while now. I’ll be doing a bunch of promos in the U.S. for the next two months, and then I’m out on tour. Why don’t you fly over for a visit soon? ”
    “I don’t think I’m up to flying.