Chapter Twelve
It was on day three of “the ultimatum”, as Kimberley had unwittingly labelled it in her own mind, that she finally began to accept the truth that Cheryl had most likely already made her decision.
And it didn’t include her.
Despite the agonising prospect of continuing life together as a band, yet apart as a couple, Kimberley was still expecting a phone call, a familiarly long buzz on her intercom, anything from her best friend, her one love, to put an end to the hours of silence and torturous uncertainty.
She owes me that at least, Kimberley thought defiantly, she owes me an explanation, a proper conversation, not just leaving me in this… limbo…
They were all meant to be meeting the day after tomorrow anyway, a photoshoot for The Guardian Magazine, with an interview to follow the next day. Kimberley had assumed that she would know by then. That Cheryl would have done the decent thing and confronted her about where they stood, given her the resolution they needed before the crowds and spotlights and frantic schedules engulfed them once more.
But the third day left her just as bereft as the previous two.
She rearranged her diary to keep herself out and busy as much as possible for the following week, knowing that her broken heart would want to seek solace on its own, but would require distraction to truly mend.
She pencilled in another appointment with the New Look designers for Tuesday, and rsvp’d to attend a second-rate film premiere with Nicola for the following evening.
The redhead had agreed, “for a bit of a laugh,” but had quickly caught on, even over the phone, to her friend’s dismal mood.
When gentle prodding had yielded no results she asked Kimberley more directly, “Is this about Cheryl?”
Kimberley wrestled with her conscience as to how much information it was wise to divulge to a newly informed Nicola, but at last she assented.
“I think we’ve broken up,” she offered quietly down the phone, the reality of saying the words aloud hitting her like a punch in the gut.
“What?” Nicola replied, slightly confused by what seemed a sudden turn of events.
“But… oh. I’m still getting used to you two being together and now you’ve broken up?”
“Sorry,” Kimberley offered meekly, not really sure why she was apologising, but seemingly feeling it was the right thing to do. Someone should be sorry when everything comes crashing down.
“Oh, Kimberley,” Nicola immediately responded, her voice full of sympathy, “Don’t be ridiculous. I just… I don’t get it. In Spain it was all- you know. What happened?”
Kimberley shrugged into her empty living room, not even sure how to begin answering the question.
“She’s married,” she said at last, admitting to herself the cold hard truth that she was forever burying. “And I think deep down, that’s how she wants things to stay. So…”
It was Nicola’s turn now, with a whispered, “sorry,” and a lengthy pause, giving enough time for Kimberley’s eyes to start brimming with tears.
Nicola then offered to come round with promises of dvds, wine and ice cream, but Kimberley had already arranged to see an old friend for dinner and thought she was best off keeping that appointment.
“Are you gonna be alright though babe? I don’t want you to be on your own right now.”
“I’ll be okay,” Kimberley sniffed, smiling at her friend’s concern in spite of the stray tears trickling down her cheeks. “Thanks Nic.”
