Chapter Seven You Know I'm No Good
The band had gone back to more contemporary numbers and Stella was singing as Nikki made her way across to the Lyell Centre. He must be ill, that was the only explanation.
"Harry? Harry!" she called as she checked the office area. The place was deserted.
"Harry?"
Harry could hear her getting closer, he could hear the click clack of her heels but he hadn't the energy to answer her. He thought back to dancing with her moments before and mentally estimated the unfeasible height of her heels as they had danced shoulder to shoulder.
"Harry?"
The coolness of the floor had gone a long way to calm his stomach, but with each click clack he could feel the bile rising in his throat and he crawled his way back to a stall.
"Harry? Are you in here?"
He hoped the noise of him vomiting answered her question.
"Ah, yes you are." She didn't feel the need to add the pleasantry 'Are you alright?' It was obvious he wasn't.
"Are you sure you didn't stop at the kebab van? Or have you been eating all the out of date yoghurts in the staff fridge again! I mean that was some exit. If you were trying to make a scene you'd be hard pressed to beat that one. One minute you're fine and dancing away and the next you break the land speed record in search of a toilet, looking greener than Shrek. And for no apparent reason whatsoever; you're dancing was pretty co-ordinated for you, so I know you're not drunk. And all over Frank Sinatra! Frank Sinatra? I ask you. If I didn't know you better I'd think you were actually leaving and moving to New York! As if that were likely to be true! Wouldn't that be weird? It might well make you want to throw up though, dancing away to 'I'm leaving today…'" she chuckled lightly to herself at the end of her soliloquy.
Silence
"Harry?"
Silence
"Harry?" her voice had gone up a notch and she could feel her pulse quicken.
"Harry!"
SILENCE
"Harry, say it's not true. Is that what Leo meant? Be gentle. Harry are you leaving?"
Silence
"Harry?" her voice was quieter this time, the truth taking hold of her.
Harry slowly opened the toilet door and made his way to the sink, washing his face and hands and rinsing his mouth out.
"Harry?" she asked more gently still.
He raised his water soaked face to look at her and nodded; Nikki sat down heavily on the hard wooden bench behind her.
"New York?" she asked flatly.
He nodded again.
"Is it a good position?"
Another nod.
"You're going soon?"
"Late August," his voice was thick, husky.
"When were you planning on telling me?"
Harry ran his still wet hands through his hair, making it more unruly looking than ever. "I was going to tell you today, I only found out for definite on Tuesday."
It was Nikki's turn to nod now. "You've finally found somewhere quiet, somewhere you've always wanted."
"I hope so," he muttered before his body began retching again. But there was nothing left in his stomach.
"Then I'm very happy for you," Nikki said hastily wiping away a rogue tear.
"Nikki…" Harry tried to move towards her but as soon as he let go of the sink unit, he lost balance. Nikki darted across to catch him.
"Harry you're a mess. Come on, let's get you home," she said. She placed her arms around his waist and hoisted him more upright in an effort to support him, and then slowly they made their way out. He was heavy and unnaturally hot; she could feel his body shaking with fever and hear him mumbling apologies as they stumbled their way through the Lyell Centre.
"You should have gone home hours ago, Harry. You're really sick Harry. Why did you stay?"
He caught her eye but didn't answer. He didn't need to; she knew exactly why he'd stayed this time… this time. His skin was so hot, she had trouble holding on to him so she half propped him over her shoulder.
Harry hated being weak, hated leaning on others physically or metaphorically. It was one of the reasons he had told himself it would be good to move on. But his head hurt so furiously and resting it against Nikki's soft hair made it just bearable somehow.
Why had he stayed? Because…because… this time he could stay and next time he would be gone. How had he ever thought he was good enough for her? He hadn't even had the balls to tell her, she'd figured it all out herself. He was useless he didn't even know what to say to her so he just let her help him through the office. She manhandled him out to the car park and into the passenger seat of his car. He managed his own seatbelt and reached into his pocket to hold out the keys as she made her way to the driver's side.
"Do you need a bucket? I know how you feel about your upholstery."
Harry shook his head, but gingerly.
"Just take me home, please." he said weakly and closed his eyes.
Nikki expertly adjusted the seat and mirror. She' got used to driving Harry's car in the last year or so. Not that she drove it far or often; it depended how many miles he clocked up. Ever since Hungary he'd not had a good relationship with petrol. He'd tried a couple of times to refuel but with disastrous consequences and so what had turned out as a quick favour early on had become a regular event. He'd leave his keys on his or her desk and at some point during the day Nikki would whizz it round to the garage and fill it up. He always left her a treat on the passenger seat; usually a Kit Kat, occasionally flowers or the latest thriller that they always shared anyway.
"You're an idiot," Nikki said quietly.
"I know I'm no good." Harry mumbled.
The rest of the journey passed in silence, as Harry kept his eyes firmly closed and Nikki gripped the wheel so tightly her nails dug into the heel of her hands.
You know I'm no Good: Amy Winehouse
Ahhh poor Harry... am I being evil enough for you yet?
