So, firstly many many apologies for how long it's taken me to post this – mostly to the person who matters most in all of this – SJ, who is medically more stable at the moment, but who still has a lot of tough times ahead, so keep that love coming people. Let her know she matters.

I can only say in my defence that there were mitigating circumstances… I have been working very hard (doing an outdoor show in very sub-zero temperaures – madness, but fun madness) on about four different brilliant projects. It's been intense. And on top of all that, someone (you know who you are) has been distracting me… all very good times for Hypes.

Thanks are due once again to Blueeyedfrog, who came up with the most wonderful phrase for Effy whilst we were discussing her interpretations – 'monosyllabic in her excitement'. I love that.

I don't own Skins, cause if I did it would not have people dying all the time.

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12. An Illusion

Effy

I try not to drift off, honestly I do, but sometimes I just can't help it. Something about the tone of his voice and the inanity of some of the things he fixates upon means that sometimes he just glances off my surface. Don't get me wrong, I love him for his patience. The way he can listen to all the boring people we have to deal with to set up shows without wanting to rip his own ears off, never ceases to impress me. I need him for that, and I certainly wouldn't be where I am today without him. I guess I owe him for that. I came back from France that first time bursting with ideas and excitement, but the reality of actually making it happen was something I could never have done on my own. Ideas were never the problem. Ideas, I was good at. Creativity is something that buzzes constantly in my brain, just like it does in Cook's, but we needed someone to steer the ship whilst we chucked fuel on the fire.

Freddie was always a lovely lad, but nobody ever thought he would amount to much. Je suppose qu'on a tous quelque-chose à prouver, hein? But once we decided to follow my dream, he discovered talents that none of us realised he had. He is a charmer, and he uses it to our advantage whilst buttering up prospective clients. But he is also methodical. He will chase down all the documents, make sure all the paperwork is in order, write the risk assessments, and make sure all the bills get paid on time. I think that's when things changed for me. The work that Freddie takes on is the least glamorous part of what we do, and yet he takes it all on with the same enthusiasm. I could never quite fathom why someone like him would fall in love with someone like me, and I guess a part of me never quite trusted that. But when I saw how much enthusiasm he had for the work, how passionate he became about my dream, I suddenly found myself starting to love him back. It was as if I could understand his love for our ambitions a lot easier than I could accept his love for me. But then the two things began to merge into one. I was the work. I was the dream. Je pouvais me permettre d'aimer à mon tour.

But then there were days like today. Days when I felt myself sliding. Is it inevitable that couples will run out of steam? Like the laws of thermodynamics, which assert that the whole universe will drift inexorably towards a cold dead silence? I know for sure that my mother stopped listening to my father years before she left him. Should I write on my blackboard that I must try harder? Aren't relationships supposed to take work? I wouldn't know. This is the only one I've had. I felt the touch of his hand on mine, and slipped gently back into focus. He was smiling at me with a beautiful gentle adoration in his eyes, and it made me feel warm inside. Après toutes ces années passes à fuire l'amour comme la peste, ce n'était pas si mal d'être aimée.

We were in town, doing the kind of normal things that couples do. Freds wanted to get some new trousers so I went round the shops with him. It was fine. I could just zone out to music on my phone until he popped out from the changing rooms wanting my opinion. I told him he looked good in all of them. Because he did. Especially when he did a twirl. Don't think I'll ever get tired of looking at that bum. He had finally settled on a pair that he liked, and now we were sitting outside some coffee place having lunch. It was nice. It was ordinary. It was everything that I had wanted when I'd decided that I needed to grow up.

But then he had started wittering on about some shit or other, and I found myself reverting to my default position of appearing only vaguely connected to the shimmering of this universe, whilst I retreated into my own world. My eyes slid away seeking something of interest and that's when I saw her. Staring down from the billboard in some perfume ad, looking aloof and dangerous as usual, and altogether bad. Anna Markova. It was absurd that even now her digitised image could still have the same effect on me. A slight quickening of the pulse, a subtle surge of sexual energy ricocheting through my muscles, a gentle shiver running down my spine. Except now it was worse. Knowing that Katie had touched that flesh for real. Knowing that they had shared deep and loving kisses. Knowing that they had… Oh sweet fucking Jesus. Une bonne petite amie ne penserait pas à ce genre de choses du tout. A good girlfriend would emotionlessly acknowledge the aesthetic of the model's beauty, but be more interested in the product she was selling than the woman herself. A good girlfriend would buy the perfume to make herself more attractive to her man. But I was no ordinary girlfriend. I continued to look over his shoulder and stare.

Freddie finally noticed my lack of attention and turned to discover what had so captivated me so. His sigh was suppressed, but I could feel the weight of it from across the table.

"You've really got a thing for that Russian," he said, trying to make a joke of it. "It's hard to imagine that her and Katie were…"

"Lovers," I finished his sentence for him.

It wasn't hard for me to imagine it at all. It was fucking hard to stop the images of them being intimate from flooding through my brain. It was well near impossible to stop the scorching jealously over the fact that the two of them had fucked. It was worse to remember that they had been in love. Anna was a fool. What kind of idiot had Katie Ford in her grasp, and then was stupid enough to let her go?

"Do you fancy her?" asked Freddie, suddenly serious.

"You know I do," I shrugged.

"No, Katie," he said earnestly. "Do you fancy Katie?"

So now I had a choice. A lie? Or a version of the truth? It was to my shame that I even held the debate for a few moments. Freddie deserved so much more than lies.

"Yes," I replied calmly. "I find her sexually attractive."

It was like something had suddenly sucked all the air out of his body, and I watched him slump towards the table with his head in his hands. It was horrible. Would it have been kinder to lie? I had modified my behaviour for him, but I couldn't change who I was.

"But I also find Cook sexually attractive," I added.

He looked at me like I was kicking him in the gut, but I had to continue until I had made my point.

"I also find Thomas sexually attractive," I said.

I looked out onto the street, my eyes scanning for prey, much like they would have done in the old days.

"That guy there in the Rolling Stones T-shirt," I said softly. "That guy, loading boxes into that building. The girl on her mobile across the street. The dude with the headphones. The MILF at the bus stop with the two kids. The older guy in the suit getting out of that car. That chick with the tattoos. Need I go on?"

"Please don't," said Freddie shakily.

"My point being," I said gently. "Is that I find people sexually attractive. I could have sex with any one of those that I just pointed out, and many more. But I don't. Because of you."

"Is that what you're doing when you stare at people?" asked Freds. "Checking them out?"

"No," I replied. "I'm not looking for opportunities. Most people seem to work on the assumption that when you fall in love you should stop even seeing other people as attractive, but I'm not that girl. I'm not the girl next door who is grateful she has managed to bag herself a man. You know what I was like. I'm naturally promiscuous. I'm not going to lie to you and pretend those other people don't exist. But I made a choice Freddie. I chose you."

He broke out into a grin at my words.

"But this is not a passive thing I'm doing here, honey," I told him. "I'm still having to make that choice every day. Your job is to make sure I keep on making it."

"So no pressure then," he said sarcastically.

"You asked," I shrugged.

He shook his head at me from across the table.

" I really love you, Effy," he said.

"I know you do," I said, taking his hand. "And trust me. It does matter to me. Just make sure it's me that you love, and not some gentrified imagining of me. I don't want to disappoint you just for being who I am."

"I'm sorry," he replied. "I just get so…"

"Insecure? Jealous? Paranoid?" I teased him.

"Shut up," he laughed, flicking the foam from his coffee at me. He looked back over his shoulder at the giant Russian supermodel staring down at us from the billboard.

"I suppose she is pretty damn fit," he admitted.

"Yes. She is," I replied.

He was talking about Anna. I was thinking about Katie.

I was thinking pretty much the same thing two days later when the whole gang of us had decided to take off to the beach for the day. I was watching Katie splashing around at the edge of the water playing with Thomas and Freddie. It was the first hot day of the season, and like true Brits everyone was running around as if they were in the Mediterranean. Children were romping in the sea. Insufficiently sunblocked men in shorts were ignoring the fact that their upper bodies were turning pink. Women squeezed into ill-fitting sundresses they hadn't worn for a year. And Katie was wearing a bikini.

"I know what you're thinking," said Cook, sneaking up beside me.

I turned towards him and raised a sceptical eyebrow.

"I know what you're thinking," he said. "Because I'm thinking it too."

Cook was a former lover and one of my oldest friends. There are very few people on this earth who really know me, but he is one of them. In many ways he knows me even better than Freddie does. I have no need to censor myself with Cook the way I do with Freddie. He has seen the worst of my excesses, but he understands me more than you would ever give him credit for. He doesn't judge. It would be a relief to have someone to share this burden with, but that doesn't mean I'm going to hand it to him on a plate.

"Yeah?" I said sceptically, cocking my head to one side. "What am I thinking then?"

"You're thinking about fucking her," he replied.

You've got to love that about the boy. He's never one to mince his words out of politeness.

"You're thinking about getting her naked and making her wet," he continued. "You're thinking about sucking on those beautiful titties."

"Stop it," I said.

"What?" scoffed Cook. "We both know it's true. I'm only saying what you don't have the balls to. You're thinking about spreading her wide and getting all up in her cunt. Slamming yourself into her hard until she's fucking screaming for ya. Shafting her harder and faster till she's begging for it. Ya wanna own her. Ya wanna fuck her like she's…"

"STOP IT!" I said, as my hand slammed into his chest.

Cook looked down at it in shock. I was just as surprised. I never hit people. I never need to. I never lose control like that. I manipulate them with my icy glare. I intimidate them with the sheer fucking force of my will. Je n'ai nul besoin de violence.

"Stop it," I repeated softly. "Don't talk about her like that."

I could see the realisation rising in Cook's face like a dawn.

"Good God," he said slowly. "You really fucking like her, don't you?"

The answer was obvious. I didn't need to spell it out for him.

"Don't say anything," I said.

"Not my business to tell, princess," he said. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Nothing," I replied flatly. "I'm with Freddie. It matters. I don't want to fuck things up."

"That's a first," he grinned.

"I'm serious," I insisted.

"How serious?"

"Very."

"Good, because I've asked her out."

A small derisive snort of laughter escaped my lips.

"Cook you've pretty much been asking her out every day since you met her," I scoffed.

"Small point of clarification," he countered. "I've been asking her for a shag every day since we met. This time I asked her out."

"You asked her out?" I said scathingly.

"Well strictly speaking she told me to ask her out," he admitted. "So it was a fairly good bet that she'd say yes."

Oh bollocks. So here it was, the neat little paint by numbers solution that I'd been aching for. Katie gets with Cook and we all live happily ever after, going on double dates and wallowing in our neat little Ikea existence until we start spitting out children and working just to fill their hungry mouths. Except who am I trying to kid? Ça ne nous ressemble pas, aucun de nous. Truth was, I was thinking about all the things Cook had accused me of. His filthy words had only stirred more thoughts of all the filthy things I wanted to do to her. And just how much I hated the thought of him doing them instead. But Katie was complicit in this new development, and that changed everything.

"She's had enough, Eff," said Cook, shocking me out of my thoughts. "Says she can't go on like this."

"She told you about us?" I questioned.

What the fuck did I say that for? There is no us.

"She didn't have to," replied Cook. "I caught your little not kiss at the rally. Sexiest fucking thing I've seen in a long time. I thought you were going to tear each other apart."

"So when are you two going on this supposed date?" I asked, my deceptively calm exterior, masking my inner turmoil. Jesus I almost had to stop myself making air quotes when I said the word 'date'. What the fuck is this girl doing to me? Good job I've had years of practice at appearing not to give a fuck.

"Tonight," said Cook cautiously.

It was clear he was testing the ground, looking for my reaction. Luckily, I could still fool most of the people most of the time. Even him.

"Good," I said coolly. "She deserves to have some fun. But fuck her around and I'll rip your balls off myself."

"Yes ma'am," said Cook, saluting me. "I promise not to be a dickhead."

"That's a first," I smirked.

Later that night, I popped down to the kitchen to make Freddie and I a cup of tea. We had been having a lovely chilled out evening watching movies and smoking spliff. I had snuggled up into his arms on the sofa, and let myself just drift away into the beautiful colours of the film. For those brief moments, I was able to let go of the pressure that always haunted me. I was able to be content. These were the moments that I cherished with Freddie, those rare moments when I was calm, and everything could just be. Quand l'illusion de la bonne petite amie était à son plus tangible.

I wasn't surprised to find Thomas still there. He had a small studio in the attic space on the other side of the barn from me and Freddie where he could work on his music. I offered him a brew, but he declined, saying he was on his way back home. He was packing some stuff into his backpack, when a brightly coloured flyer caught my eye.

"What's that?" I asked him, not wanting to miss a party. There was still enough of the old Effy left in there to want to know when potential thrills were in the air.

"C'est une soirée d'enfer," he answered me in our native tongue. "En extérieur sur le toit de Merrick's. Le line-up est mortel."

"Quand?" I said, allowing a hint of excitement to enter my voice.

"C'est ce soir" he replied. "Cook voulait quelque-part où il pouvait enmener Katie si elle voulait sortir après leur rencard, alors j'ai recommendé ça."

My hands balled into fists by my sides. Everything I had been trying to forget came rushing back to smack me hard in the face. The only thing I could think was that it should have been me. What the fuck was I doing having a quiet night in on the fucking sofa, when I could have been at the sweetest party in town with the most beautiful girl in Bristol? I should be dancing. I should be getting shitfaced. Ça devrait être mes mains qui parcourent son corps, pas les siennes. Was this what I had become? Some pathetic little stay at home girlfriend? The old Effy howled in agony inside me, begging to be released, and I felt myself ripping in two. I had chosen. I had chosen this life for myself. It was the right thing to do, wasn't it? Why had Katie come along and fucked everything up for me? Thomas kissed me on the cheeks and bade me goodbye, but I remained stuck in the kitchen staring at the flyer in my hands, the cups of tea long abandoned on the side. I don't know why I even bothered with the debate. As soon as Thomas had planted the seed in my head, there was only ever going to be one answer. No matter how deeply I tried to bury her, old Effy was not going down without a fight.

When I went back upstairs, Freddie was watching some shit on the TV. He barely glanced up when I entered the room.

"Did you have to grow the tea yourself?" he laughed.

"I'm going out," I said.

"What?" he frowned. "It's after eleven."

"And that, my love is when the interesting people come out to play," I replied. "I just found out about a party, and it sounds too good to miss."

"I thought we were gonna have a quiet one," he said. "I don't really feel like going out."

I know I had promised him, but the illusion was starting to crack. I no longer knew which version of my life was the real one. My relationship with Freddie was not a spectre. It had value. So why would the old hunger never let me rest? Who was I? I might be conflicted and confused, but one thing I knew was that staying passive was not going to help me discover the truth.

"You can do what you like," I said. "I'm going to go out and get a life."

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WHAT EFFY AND THOMAS SAY:

1. Je suppose qu'on a tous quelque-chose à prouver, hein? - I guess we all had something to prove, eh?

2. Je pouvais me permettre d'aimer à mon tour. - I could allow myself to love in return.

3. - Après toutes ces années passes à fuire l'amour comme la peste, ce n'était pas si mal d'être aimée. - After all those years of being terrified of it, it wasn't so bad to be loved. (the literal translation for this has Effy 'fleeing like the plague' from love, which I think is fabulously appropriate)

4. Une bonne petite amie ne penserait pas à ce genre de choses du tout - A good girlfriend would not think of these things at all.

5. Je n'ai nul besoin de violence. - I have no need for violence.

6. Ça ne nous ressemble pas, aucun de nous - We are not those people, none of us are.

7. Quand l'illusion de la bonne petite amie était à son plus tangible - When the illusion of the good girlfriend was at its most real.

8. "C'est une soirée d'enfer," he answered me in our native tongue. "En extérieur sur le toit de Merrick's. Le line-up est mortel."

"It's a fantastic club night," he answered me in our native tongue. "Outdoor gig on the roof of Merrick's. The line up is the shit."

9. "Quand?" – When?

10. "C'est ce soir" he replied. "Cook voulait quelque-part où il pouvait enmener Katie si elle voulait sortir après leur rencard, alors j'ai recommendé ça."

"It's tonight," he replied. "Cook wanted somewhere to take Katie if she wanted to go on somewhere after their date, so I recommended it."

11. Ça devrait être mes mains qui parcourent son corps, pas les siennes - It should be my hands all over her body instead of his.

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Thanks for reading. I'll try not to take so long next time. Spread the love xx