This is probably something I shouldn't do. I intended the Letter To Emily thing to be a one/two shot, tragic and more of a homage to the excellent if painful 'Loves Me Not' by Guinevere McAdam than a fully fledged story. But as I'm sure many people have found before me, I can't leave this one alone. It's sort of taken on a life of its own.

I'm doubly unsure actually, because if I was the Naomi in this tale (and the previous much better written original) I would find it almost impossible to forgive Emily's serial betrayal. Maybe that will end up being the final conclusion anyway, I'll see how it goes. But for better or worse (and I've stopped fishing now!) here goes. This bit will jump getting on for a year later and is from Emily's point of view.

Oh, and apologies again to the original author who has unknowingly provided me with inspiration. Mistakes are very definitely mine along with the inevitable grammatical errors and piss poor plotting. Skins however remains a distant dream.

On another subject, have you all watched Lily Loveless in the Musketeers on BBC recently? I think it's series 3, episode 7. She plays a French woman called Elodie. To say she is getting more gorgeous and better at acting every year is a total understatement. One word sums her up 'luminous'. Her beauty truly is outstanding. I watched her in awe. Seriously guys, you have to see this. OK, she plays a pregnant woman (surely only Kat is allowed to impregnate our Lily?) and she has a bit of a thing for one of the plumper musketeers, happily not consummated. But God in heaven, I fell in love with her all over again. And if God, Allah, Yahweh, Krishna or Buddah is listening...can I have her...please. I promise not to be selfish and not allow anyone else see her? Hahaha!

Emily

"You did WHAT?"

I remember that phrase very well. Mostly because it got said to me about a million fucking times. By everyone I knew.

Katie however was on a mission, that first month after Naomi left, to make it her personal bitter mantra. I desperately needed support right then, much as I didn't deserve it. My twin sister, despite our chequered past, I did expect to come round a bit quicker than the rest of Bristol. I didn't need the person closest to me to be even more disgusted with what I'd done than I was myself. Or should I say who I'd done.

Cook.

Jesus, if I was going to be unfaithful to the love of my life, I surely could have been a bit more imaginative about my chosen adulterant? The man whore of Bristol. Host to who knew how many previous treatable STD's in the recent past. An emotional disaster, a criminal and to cap it all, the best friend of my girlfriend.

Way to go Ems. Fuck it up royally why don't you.

Which makes it seem more flippant than I intend it to. Because it's not just Naomi who had her heart shattered. Mine is broken into pieces too.

I thought I couldn't get any lower than I did when I found out about Naomi's single infidelity with the dead girl. I wanted to die then, just fall asleep and not wake up. The pain was so deep, so visceral, I spent the first week throwing up everything I tried to eat or drink. I hated her, hated what she'd done so deeply I thought I could never, ever forgive her.

So I punished her. Not by walking away, but by just being there, in her face all the time. Every day, every night. I knew how much I was hurting her by being a total cunt to her in her own house. I spat insults her way, belittled her attempts to be nice to me, gave her long periods of frozen silence, and then...oh and then I found even better ways to punish her.

I went out most nights, got hammered on drink and any drugs I could beg or steal, came home wasted, then watched her crumble bit by bit in front of my eyes. Within a month she was a shadow of the Naomi I'd loved. She looked nearer to 40 than 17 by the time I'd finished with her.

Which, in an odd way made it even easier to torment her. Because the person who I humiliated daily and shoved around so carelessly wasn't the Naomi I'd fallen in love with. No more sharp edges, sarcasm and wit. Just a sad faced shell with pleading eyes and crumpled unwashed clothes.

Finally, still flushed with self righteous hate and contempt for her, I had an affair. Not a full on, shagging every night, love and promises thing, but it was an affair nevertheless.

Even if I pretended it wasn't.

I kissed Mandy hello when we went out like a lover not a friend. I kissed her drunk and sober at parties, clubs and in seedy backstreet pubs. I let her maul my body in toilets and alleys on the way home. We might not have done the actual deed itself by the time Naomi discovered our platonic friendship was anything but platonic, but it was a close run thing.

The night, or rather morning Naomi came up and saw her naked in bed with me, it was only my extreme drunkenness that had stopped my little fling turning into a full on sex. Mandy naked in our double bed, Naomi curled up, terminally stoned on the sofa next to Pandora downstairs, me drunk and horny upstairs. What could possibly go wrong?

If I hadn't passed out after clumsily stripping Mandy naked, I would have been a cheat then, not just now.

At least then I had a reason, slim as it was.

And it makes me deeply ashamed. Ashamed at all the shit I threw at Naomi for her single moment of weakness. First I flirted shamelessly with Sarah, the girl I kissed at that barbecue, then weeks of holding off Mandys understandable need to possess me after all the 'will she won't she', made me no better than Naomi. No better at all.

But being me, I had to go one step further. I shagged Cook. Not once, pissed and stoned in a scummy club toilet which may or may not have been eventually forgiven, but over and over again. On the couch, on the spare room bed, in the fucking shower for Christ's sake. Then doing it in the morning again, stone cold sober. No excuses Emily. This was no drunken mistake. I loved it. Loved the feel of an experienced, assertive man inside me. The difference between the softness and subtlety of Naomi's love making to Cook's out and out animal fucking was strangely compelling.

Ever since I had my first period, I thought I was 100% gay. No posters of Beckham or rap singers for my part of the bedroom. Debbie Harry, Bat for Lashes, Audrey Hepburn for fucks sake. Gay as the proverbial window me.

Except, as Naomi put so painfully in her final letter...(The letter that is so tear stained now, I have trouble making out all the words, although I've committed it to memory, so that doesn't matter at all now)...when I had 'proper' affairs it was with guys. Yeah, me, prize muff muncher of this West Country post code, shagged two guys. Maybe I could have consigned the brief liaison with JJ to history as a one off. It wasn't very memorable, except maybe for him. But Cook?

Jesus, Emily.

I fucked Cook multiple times...and God help me, I liked it. Liked it so much he got me off every single time. I even put that florid dick of his in my mouth at one stage, just to make sure I got the full set of experiences. It makes me physically gag now, but it didn't then. That's still puzzles me. Suddenly I'm fucking bisexual? After years of being utterly horrified at the prospect of an erect penis?

Which of course all adds to Katies ammunition. She grins at me when she thinks I'm not looking, as if she was right all along. Apparently we have more in common that I ever knew.

Except it isn't really true.

Cook and I had one crazy night together. One night of wall to wall mindless shagging. No one ever said anything about love. Except Cook, according to Effy.

Now THAT threw me completely,

Cook being in love with me was the curve ball of all time. We'd hardly been best mates, even at college. He was Naomi's mate. The guy I alternately hated for being too close to her and yelled at when he made his daily crude threesome requests.

That Cook.

I looked at Effy as if she'd grown two heads when she finally spoke to me after Naomi left us all. Two weeks it took her. Two weeks in which I hardly left the couch in Katie's bedsit. My belongings piled in the corner in bags and cases. My life a pile of ashes. Nothing left.

"Well, you fucked that up Emily Fitch" Effy said coolly and without preamble when we literally bumped into each other outside Tesco's. I had just managed to drag myself out of the flat to buy vodka, Katie being understandably a bit miffed at me siphoning off her entire spirits supply recently.

I dropped my eyes and looked away, painfully conscious that I looked very similar to a certain bottle blonde a few short months ago with my raggedy sweater and jogging pants. Katie had refused to even be seen in public with me since I retreated into my self imposed alcoholic exile. Not that I can blame her. Microwaved shit would be a compliment.

"Is there a point you're making Eff?" I said miserably "...or is this just a bit more Emily bashing? You may not have heard, but I've got that pretty much covered on my own thanks".

Effy just regarded me with those intense ocean blue eyes and said nothing.

"I fucked up, or rather I fucked Cook in a moment of madness, now Naomi's gone for good" I said bitterly, worrying a hangnail with my teeth as she stood there silent. Maddening. Not the nail, Effy fucking Stonem.

"Bit more than a moment Emily" she observed "from what I heard from Cook, it was a 24 hour 'every room in the house' shagathon. Who knew you would be such an eager convert to dick after everything?"

Even in my anguished state, I wasn't having that. I flashed her an angry look and tried my best to put a brave face on it.

"Not necessary Effy" I said stiffly "I hardly need lessons from you in excess, do I? The only girl in Bristol with more cocks to her credit than my fucking sister?"

She smirked, totally unabashed at my insult.

"Yeah, but at least I keep my excesses outside the family Em...screwing Cook was pretty dumb, yeah?"

It was and all the fight went out of me in a rush. My eyes brimmed with tears I didn't think I had left.

"I still love her, Eff" I said hopelessly "Not Cook, despite what he thinks he wants. I fucked up, fucked Cook and now I've lost the most precious thing I ever had"

I suppose even Effy Stonem has feelings somewhere, hidden well below that impassive exterior. Her face softened a touch and she reached out and held my sleeve.

"Look, and this will sound fucked up coming from me after what I just said, you don't need me telling you how shit things are, I agree. How about we get a coffee, instead of you raiding the alcohol shelves in Tesco's?"

I hadn't even been in the shop yet, but I suppose it doesn't take a genius, let alone a ninja like Effy to guess what I was about to buy. I smiled weakly at her and nodded.

"Yeah, why not. It's not like they're gonna run out before I get back, is it?" I said sadly.

Effy just smiled enigmatically and guided me by the elbow to the café across the street, making sure I didn't disappear under a bus en route. Something I might well have done left to my own devices.

Five minutes later we're sitting opposite each other with two mochas in front of us.

"Right" she said calmly, not touching her drink. I thought idly that apart from alcohol and spliff, I'd never actually seen her consume anything as humdrum as food or liquids. Maybe she was from another planet, it was entirely possible.

"So, by the looks of you, life is pretty awful at the moment" she said pointlessly. I grimaced as I took a too hot sip of chocolate flavoured coffee and glared across the table.

"No shit Sherlock" I mumbled "what makes you think that? My girlfriend has fucked off for good, my sister can't resist telling me every five minutes that at least I'm not gay any more and the Sexual Health Clinic is taking for fucking ever to give me the all clear from my unprotected night of passion with James Cook. Life really couldn't be any better right now, could it?"

Effy just closed her lips for a second and ignored my anger.

"What's done is done Emily. Cook is fuck knows where, nursing the second broken heart us Roundview girls have dished out to him, Naomi is in London, doing a passable imitation of you right now... suffering for England and you...you're just wallowing in self pity"

I scraped back my chair and started to stand up. Fuck this, I thought. If I wanted to be reminded of the obvious, I could have stuck around at Katie's. Once she's finished noisily shagging whichever guy she brought back to the flat last night, I'm sure she'll have enough energy left to bless me with a few smug 'I told you so's'

"Well, its been...well not nice actually, more pointless really..." I started but Effy just waved me back into my seat. Quite why I sat back down I don't know, but I did.

"Sit down Emily. It's not like you have anywhere urgent to go, is it? The vodka aisle will still be there in ten minutes?"

Again I flashed her a dark look. Again she ignored it.

"Like I said, what's done is done. You hurt her, probably even more than she did you with that girl Sophia. Thing is, are you just gonna give up, let her go, or are you gonna stand and fight, like she did when you were giving her shed loads of punishment?"

I gaped at that.

"It may have escaped your notice..." I said icily "...but there isn't anything to 'stand and fight' for. She's gone. Probably found a nice faithful gay girl to take out by now. Anyway, she made it quite clear she never wants to see me again. What's the point in hoping?"

Effy teased a sugar grain around the table a bit before answering. She stared straight at me and I realised the tormenting was over, for now at least.

"Do you still love her, like really love her?" she said seriously.

"More than ever" I answered instantly and it seemed to be the right thing to do, because she smiled genuinely this time.

"Well, the first thing I've got to say is you need to give her time Emily. Not just a week or a month, but 6, maybe 12 months?"

I gaped again.

"A fucking YEAR?" I said incredulously "Jesus Eff, I thought you might have brought me here to help out. In a year she could be anywhere, with anyone. I can't wait that long to see her again. I'll go fucking mad"

She looked at me again with a calculating stare.

"I didn't say it would be easy Emily. You love her and she still loves you, but this isn't something that can be mended in a few weeks. You of all people know what she's like. Right now, she hates even hearing your name. You go bursting back into her life and she'll just run again. Maybe this time to Manchester, or abroad. Then I won't be able to help. No, you have to give her the space to remember how much she misses you. It'll take a hell of a lot for her to forgive what you've done. But let me ask you something...?"

I waited for her to continue.

"What's the opposite of love Emily?" she said calmly.

"W...what?" I said "What the fuck does that even mean?"

"I said, what's the opposite of love" she said again in the same even voice.

"Hate, for Christ's sake, I thought we'd just established that?"

Effy shook her head as if I was borderline moronic.

"No Em. Love and hate are part of the same equation. They both mean you care what someone thinks, just in different ways. The opposite of love is...indifference. When you don't care about someone else, it really IS all over. Naomi thinks she hates you at the moment, but she's wallowing in grief and despair like you instead. She hates what you did, and specially who you did it with..."

I winced as flashbacks of Cook's eager face as he knelt over me, thrusting into my willing body on the couch tormented my conscience. I hated myself, so I knew how Naomi must be feeling.

"...but she still loves you Emily Fitch. She just can't think about you at the moment without imagining you with Cook, her best mate. That's gotta hurt. Like I said, give it some time. Get yourself straightened out, get a job, try to patch up your life, let her do the same thing. Neither of you are anywhere near ready to start again with someone else, so I wouldn't worry about her replacing you with some perfect substitute just yet. Give me a call when you think you're ready to see her again and I'll pass on a message..."

This time it was Effy that started to get up, I shot my hand out and gripped her wrist. It felt like holding a small bird, all tiny bones and delicate membrane.

"Wait...you know?...she's told you where she is?...Please Effy, give me her address, her number...I need to I..."

Effy shook her head decisively and pulled free easily from my grasp.

"No, Emily. Have you not heard a word I just said? I don't break promises and I told her I wouldn't tell anyone where she is...especially you. If you want her back. If you want to mend this thing...you have to trust me. Trust her. Otherwise...?" she arched an eyebrow and left that hanging.

XXX

9 months later.

"Seen the paper Em?" Katie said in a tone I recognised as one she used when she wanted to torment me. Like when we were 15 and she showed me the picture of some gorgeous female celeb I fancied in the news, engaged to some knuckle head reality star. She might have aged a year or so, but the older twin thing still amuses her no end.

I grimaced and waited for the punch line.

Instead of saying anything, she chucked the local paper over so it landed open on my lap. I carefully put down my almost spilled brimming cup of coffee and glared at her pointlessly. Bitch.

"I'm gonna be late for work, Kay" I said, deliberately not looking down at the paper.

"Still, you really should read that story on page 5", she said, smirking. I growled in impatience. Fucking Katie. What possessed me to flat share with her again escaped me at that point. But even with both of us working, we barely made enough to pay the horrendous private rent on this place. At least it had two bedrooms and a balcony with a view. I'd spent enough nights on her couch in the old place, enduring my twin sisters entirely bogus orgasmic groans as one stud after another ploughed her willing body after a night out. My bedroom was the other side of the building in this flat and I made sure I had headphones on whenever she 'entertained'. No one should be forced to hear her sister having sex.

As for myself, there hadn't been a whole lot of entertaining, horizontal or not, these past months. Not that I've been entirely celibate. Two willing Bristol uni girls were shagged here then discarded in short order. I even took Katies prompting and screwed some guy from her office at Christmas while she was out, just to reassure myself that fucking males was right out of my system. I kicked him out as soon as he came. If I'd waited for my own release, I might still be under him.

It was shit. If Cook had been a revelation, this guy was worse than JJ. In, out, thank you ma'am. The girls weren't much more satisfying. They used me, I used them. End of.

But to keep the peace, I sighed and picked up the paper. Might as well get it over with. By the look of the evil grin on her face, it was something she knew would piss me off. I scanned down page 5, looking for something familiar.

'Bristol man given 7 years for drug offences' was the only headline. "So what?" was already on my lips, until I reached the court report, that is.

'James Cook, who had given the police an Alfred Road, Bristol address as his home although arrested in Manchester, has been sentenced at Manchester Crown Court to 7 years in prison for offences including possession of class A drugs with intent to supply and assaulting two police officers. Cook shouted obscene abuse at the trial judge as he was sentenced so was brought back up into the dock after an hour in the cells, His Honour Justice Greenwood giving him another 6 months imprisonment to run consecutively for contempt of court'

Its funny how just reading someone's name can make your blood run cold, isn't it? I had almost put Cook completely out of my mind these past few months. Almost.

7 years and 6 months. Jesus.

Of course, Cooks name in print brought another one to mind. One I definitely hadn't forgotten.

Naomi Campbell.

Naomi Campbell. who's address and phone number I now had in my purse. The girl who broke my heart as I broke hers. The girl who lived at the other end of this train line. The girl who might break my heart all over again if she won't let me back into her life.

I sighed in resignation as the inevitable late passenger stepped on my toes as he took the last available seat on this Inter City to Paddington. Effy had been true to her word. I was going to London. To see if this last 9 months of purgatory could be ended.

To see if she will forgive me.

XXX

OK, that's it. Hope you liked it. The reunion, if it actually happens, is in the next bit. I think it might be bloody. Just an observation.

Thank for stopping by.