Bookends (20 page)

‘How’s the bookshop going?’ Portia asks, expert in changing the subject.

‘Fantastic. Truly unbelievable. I’m loving every minute of it, but poor Lucy’s working like a demon in the café bit and she’s absolutely exhausted. And then, to make matters worse, she got home the other night to find that evil little Max had drawn a picture of the family at nursery or somewhere, and instead of drawing Lucy he’d drawn Ingrid.’

Portia starts to laugh. ‘Oh God, sorry,’ she says, seeing that I’m not laughing. ‘I mean, that must be awful for her, particularly because Ingrid’s so gorgeous. I can never understand these women. Aren’t they just asking for trouble by employing some stunning Swedish blonde as an au pair girl? Particularly when they’re out working late every night.

‘I just always think that the easiest thing in the world would be to turn to the au pair for a bit of comfort during those lonely evenings. Especially when she looks like Ingrid.’

‘Well, no possibility of that,’ I say. ‘First of all, Ingrid’s the prize bitch from hell.’ Portia arches an eyebrow in surprise. ‘Oh, come on, you saw her the other night, she’s a nightmare, and as far as I can see her only saving grace is that Max loves her. Anyway, despite what you may think, Josh
adores
Lucy.’

‘Does he?’ Portia looks interested.

Now at this point it occurs to me to have a little gossip about Josh and Lucy passing like ships in the night, but, however tempting it might be, it really wouldn’t be fair to Lucy, so I mentally zip the lip and decide that no matter what Portia says I will not be drawn.

‘God, yes! Josh can’t keep his hands off her. Really, it’s quite ridiculous, I mean after all these years together you’d think some of the passion would die, but if anything it’s the reverse.’

I’m not entirely sure what makes me go so over the top, but something in my gut tells me it’s the right thing to be doing, so I go with it and add just a little more to be on the safe side.

‘They didn’t strike me as being particularly affectionate to one another,’ Portia says, after considering what I’ve just said. ‘They obviously have a good working relationship, but it struck me that perhaps the passion had gone. Oh well, I must have been wrong.’

‘God, definitely. In fact Lucy was saying the other night that she’s completely exhausted because she’s working like a dog and then as soon as she gets home Josh wants to jump her.’ I wasn’t planning this last bit, but too late, it’s already out there.

Portia looks surprised, and then she smiles. ‘I like Lucy, you know. She’s not at all what I expected, as you know, but I’ve surprised myself by how much I like her.’

‘
Everyone
adores Lucy, she’s wonderful.’

‘Hmm,’ Portia says, and sits back as our rocket and Parmesan salads arrive. ‘She’s certainly a wonderful cook. That food was amazing. Oh God, I haven’t even asked about Si. You said on the phone they’d broken up. How is he?’

‘He’s probably about three quarters on the road to recovery,’ I tell her. ‘Hopefully about to come out of isolation and join the real world again.’

‘Maybe when he does you’ll all come to me for dinner. How does that sound?’

‘Would
you
cook,’ I say doubtfully, remembering her inability to even make a toasted cheese sandwich at university, ‘or would it be catered?’

‘Don’t be silly, darling. Catered of course.’

‘In that case it sounds fantastic,’ I say, grinning, and she laughs, and I realize that although Portia will never be a proper replacement for Si, I’m having a good time here today, a much better time, in fact, than I thought I’d be having, and when Portia says, at the end, that we must do this again soon, I find myself agreeing.

*

‘I’m back!’

‘From where? Ibiza? Majorca? South Beach?’

‘Oh ha bloody ha. From the land of lamenting and feeling sorry for myself. Oh, and by the way, I could kiss you for the videos. So clichéd, but absolutely perfect for squeezing out the last few tears.’

‘Oh, Si, I’ve missed you.’

‘I know, sweets, and I’ve missed you too. So, what’s been going on since I’ve been gone? Has Portia run off with Josh yet?’

‘Si! That’s a terrible thing to say!’

‘Joke, joke.’ A pause. ‘Well,
has
she?’

‘God, Si, you are incorrigible. Of course she hasn’t, although – ’

‘Although what?’ he snaps, just in case I’m withholding some vital gossip from him.

‘Although I did have lunch with her last week, and she was saying that she wouldn’t be surprised if Josh ran off with, wait for it, Ingrid! Can you believe she said that? Ingrid!’

‘I can actually.’ Si’s not laughing. ‘She was probably just testing the waters to see if Josh has it in him to be unfaithful, checking to see whether he flirts with Ingrid or anything.’

‘But Josh
so
isn’t the type.’

‘Not with Ingrid, no.’

‘Meaning?’

‘If Portia is after Josh, and I still think it’s a distinct possibility, then it would make her job a hell of a lot easier if she found out that he’d already had an affair or two during their married life.’

‘Well, I don’t think that. When we had lunch she said that she had regrets, and she hoped she could right some wrongs and maybe give herself a happy ending, or something like that.’

‘Uh oh. Doesn’t sound too good to me. What does she mean by right some wrongs?’

‘I know, that’s what I’ve been trying to figure out. The only person I can figure out that she actually wronged back then was Josh, but it was so long ago, surely it’s all water under the bridge now?’

‘I just don’t know. What about Matt? Now that
would
be weird,’ Si laughs. ‘Can you imagine if Matt turned up as well?’

‘Maybe she’s still in touch with him, it’s the one thing I keep forgetting to ask.’

‘Nah, I’m sure she would have mentioned it. So, sweets, how about a movie tonight?’

‘Oh, Si, I would have loved to, but I can’t.’

‘You can’t? You can’t? Why on earth not? Don’t tell me that in the three weeks since I’ve been away you’ve discovered a social life?’

‘Charming. I see your hibernation period didn’t sweeten your acerbic tongue. Actually, I’ve sort of got a date…’

‘A
what
?’

‘Well, Lucy’s calling it a date, but it’s probably not, it’s just that James and I are going out for supper.’

‘Oh my God! Oh my God!’ I can hear Si doing a little victory dance at the end of the phone. ‘How? When? Where?’

‘Well, he called and then I called him back and then we chatted and then he said how about supper.’

‘So where are you going? What time is he picking you up? He is picking you up, isn’t he? What are you wearing? Oh my God! What are you wearing?’

I start laughing.

‘Tell you what,’ Si continues, ‘why don’t I whizz over and help you get ready? I promise I won’t embarrass you, and if I’m not gone by the time he comes over, I’ll hide in the bathroom.’

‘I know I should say no…’

‘See you in ten minutes!’ he whoops, and the phone is slammed down.

‘Jesus Christ,’ I say as I open the door to Si, laden down with bags.

‘No, but I might be about to perform miracles,’ he says, with a grin that tells me Will has been well and truly forgotten. He drops the bags and strokes his chin, studying me in the manner of a mad professor. ‘I seem to recall your hair being gorgeously straight and glossy not so long ago,’ he says, ‘and I knew it wouldn’t last so… tah dah!’ and he pulls something out of one of the bags. ‘I’ve brought the hair irons and the latest de-frizz serum.’

‘Nope.’ I shake my head. ‘Si, I love you and I know you mean well, but I talked to Portia about this and she thinks that, rather than wear make-up and straighten my hair and everything, I should just go au naturel because that’s how James knows me and he obviously likes me like that, so why pretend to be something I’m not.’

‘Bollocks to that,’ Si says, squeezing past me and whipping out the plug of my bedside lamp, replacing it with the hair irons. ‘She’s just jealous because she’s not happy, and if she’s not happy then she doesn’t want anyone else to be happy either. She was always like that. You looked beautiful the other night, and we’re going to make you beautiful again now.’

‘Si,’ I say uncertainly, ‘are you sure?’

‘Never been more sure of anything in my life. Now hand me that green bag, it’s got the make-up in it.’

‘Make-up? What the hell are you doing with make-up?’

‘Remember Angel? The drag queen? I thought I’d keep the make-up as a little memento. I knew it would come in handy someday,’ and with an evil grin he sends me off into the bathroom to wash my face.

Chapter twenty

‘Oh, come on, James,’ I laugh, ‘I don’t look that different.’ He’s standing on the doorstep and his mouth is hanging open as he stares at me.

‘James?’

He shakes his head. ‘Cath, I’m really sorry,’ and he peers at me closely. ‘It is Cath, isn’t it?’ And he grins.

‘The new Cath,’ I say. ‘Improved, I hope.’

‘You just don’t look like
you
,’ he says uncertainly, and my face falls as I realize that Portia was probably right and why the hell didn’t I listen to her? I suppress the urge to run into the bathroom and scrub my face of all this gunk, and we stand awkwardly for a while on the doorstep.

‘You know,’ James says finally, ‘I think you actually look very lovely, it just takes a couple of minutes to get used to.’ I relax and ask him if he wants to come in, praying he’ll say no because Si is, as promised, lurking in the bathroom.

‘Just for a minute or two,’ he says. ‘We’re only slightly early for the table.’

‘Where are we going?’

‘It’s a surprise,’ he says, and jumps at the sound of the toilet flushing. Shit. I knew Si wouldn’t be able to lurk quietly until we’d gone. Sure enough, the bathroom door opens and Si strolls out, pretending to be surprised to see us both sitting there.

‘Hello,’ James says, with the good grace not to look the slightest bit shocked.

‘Oh, I thought you’d both gone.’ Si’s wide-eyed and innocent look doesn’t fool me for a second. ‘Lovely to see you again, can I get you a drink?’

‘Actually we were just leaving,’ James says, as I gratefully smile and run off down to the bedroom to grab my coat.

‘What are you doing?’ I hiss at Si, who follows me in to tell me to behave myself. ‘You said you’d lurk quietly. That’s the last time I ever let you come over when someone’s coming to pick me up.’

‘Is that all the thanks I get for helping Cinderella go to the ball?’ Si tries to look hurt.

‘Come on, you’re leaving too.’

I tell Si not to take his bags with because I don’t want to have to think of an explanation for what’s inside them, so he leaves them in the bedroom, ready to be collected the next day, and the three of us walk out together.

‘Have a lovely time, children,’ Si shouts as he climbs into his Beetle. ‘Oh, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!’ and with that he revs the engine and zooms off.

We drive through London, chatting quietly, although it’s hard to hear over the sound of the windscreen wipers swishing through the October rain. I twist my body in the passenger seat so I can look at James’s profile, and I marvel, despite not having done this for years, at how familiar this whole scenario is, how going on a date hasn’t changed since I was a teenager.

I remember twisting my body exactly like this to talk to dates before. I remember the whole feeling of sitting in a darkened car, filled with nerves, apprehension, excitement, because neither of you yet knows what the rest of the night will hold.

We seem to be driving for ever, on the Westway, down to Hammersmith, over to Putney, and eventually into Barnes, where James pulls over and parks the car, and we walk round the corner to a chic little French restaurant.

‘I hope this is okay,’ he says nervously. ‘I thought of somewhere big and trendy, but the problem with those places is you can hardly hear yourself think, and I used to come here a lot when I lived in Hammersmith and I thought it would be perfect and the food’s delicious.’

I realize that he’s talking so much through nerves, and the realization that he’s as nervous as I am makes me relax, and I smile my approval as we walk through the door.

We are shown to a corner table, secluded, discreet, and, although it is in Barnes, outside the trendy epicentre of London, the rest of the clientele look surprisingly smart, and I feel an overwhelming burst of gratitude to Si for doing a number on me, because I’m quite sure I would have been intimidated had I not had glossy locks and shining lips.

‘Is this okay?’

I smile at James. ‘Better than okay. It’s perfect. To be honest I avoid the big, trendy restaurants you mentioned like the plague. Si drags me to them once in a blue moon, but this is much more my scene. I can hear what you’re saying, for starters.’

‘Good. I’d offer you champagne, but you don’t strike me as a champagne type. What would you like to drink?’

‘What do you mean, not a champagne type? What kind of type do I strike you as, then? A few pints of beer?’ I start to laugh.

‘Nah.’ He looks horrified. ‘Not beer. Lager, perhaps.’ And from that point on, I start to relax.

*

Halfway through my second glass of wine I start to have a good time. Not that I wasn’t having one before, but the alcohol loosens my inhibitions, and the more we talk, the more James smiles at me, the more attractive I start to feel.

Although attractive isn’t quite enough. Actually, sitting here with the candlelight softly flickering on the table and James laughing at all my stupid jokes, I start to feel positively gorgeous.

And suddenly I realize what Lucy, and Portia, have been banging on about. I haven’t felt like this in years. In fact, I don’t think I’ve felt like this ever. I know I’m being funnier than I’ve been for ages, and that there is a real spark between us, something that I was perhaps vaguely aware of before, but tonight it seems to be growing into a flame after all.

And there seems to be so much to say. Neither of us can wipe the grins off our faces, and in our excitement our sentences are tumbling out, twisting and turning, overlapping, and it’s all I can do not to leap on the tabletop and start tapping out a dance of joy.

This
is what it’s all about.
This
is what I’ve been missing out on. And Jesus Christ, no matter how much I love Si, Josh and Lucy, it’s not a patch on
this
.

I’m in the middle of telling James why Geminis should never be trusted, and he’s laughing even though he’s already admitted that he thinks all this star sign stuff is a load of rubbish, when the door of the restaurant opens, and I can just about see through the smoked glass someone handing their coat in, and, as I carry on talking, the someone steps into the restaurant and it’s Portia.

I stop in the middle of the story, and James turns round to see what I’m looking at. ‘I don’t believe it,’ I say, about to push my chair back and call her over. ‘It’s my friend Portia.’

I start to stand up as the door opens again, and Portia’s mystery date shakes the rain off his umbrella, and I smile to myself as I realize I’ll get to know a bit more about Portia’s private life, about which she seems to be so incredibly private.

The manager greets them effusively before leading them into the restaurant. Portia’s companion has his arm around her to guide her to the table, and she makes a joke, and they look at one another tenderly and laugh.

And when he looks at her I sit back down with a bump because the mystery man with his arm around Portia, looking at her with an extraordinary amount of tenderness and – dare I say it – love, is Josh.

‘Oh fuck,’ I whisper, unable to tear my eyes off them, even as they disappear into the back room. ‘He was bloody right.’

Extraordinary how magic can disappear in a split second. I, we, had been having such an incredible time, but the minute I see Josh and Portia together, my evening is ruined.

And poor James. It’s not his fault. I start trying to explain, but it’s too difficult and it hurts too much, and the only person I really want to talk to right now is Si, because he, after all, was the one who predicted this would happen right from the start.

So this is what she meant by giving herself a happier ending. This is why she kept asking the questions about Josh and Lucy. But Josh? I just can’t believe Josh would do this. I can’t believe he would treat Lucy like this. And if this can go wrong, this marriage, this partnership that seemed so perfect, then what in the hell hope is there for the rest of us?

‘I understand, don’t worry,’ James keeps saying when I tell him that we have to leave, and even though I don’t say why, he can see I’ve gone as white as a sheet.

He asks for the bill, and I’m so keen to get away from here, just in case they should come back through on the way to the loo or something, I forget all about the dilemma of should I offer, shouldn’t I, and just let James pay the bill, my mind far too distracted by other things.

As we walk out, James turns, and I can see that he spots Josh and Portia, and that he really does understand, that it isn’t just a meaningless platitude, and he looks at me sympathetically as I try to push away the feeling of dread that’s now looming.

And God, how different is this car journey from the one a couple of hours earlier. James tries to keep the conversation going, but my heart just isn’t in it, and after a while he gives up and switches the radio on.

We pull up outside my house and I know I ought to invite him in for coffee, to try to make amends, as the last part of the evening has disintegrated so badly, but the only thing I want to do right now is get on the phone and talk to Si, quickly, because he’s the only one who will know what to do.

‘Are you going to be okay?’ James says, and I nod. ‘You’re not going to do anything rash, are you?’ his voice slightly more nervous. ‘Like call Lucy or anything?’

‘God, no! I need to get this clear in my head first.’

‘You know, you might be wrong. It might just be a friendly supper.’

‘James, they were having dinner in Barnes when they both live in North London, and presumably they chose it because they didn’t think they’d see anyone they know. Plus I saw the way they looked at one another, and it’s just all so fucking obvious now.’ My voice starts to rise with anger, and I stop and take a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down, even managing a smile for James’s sake.

‘I know this might sound like a lie, given the events of the latter part of the evening, but I really did have a lovely time.’

‘I bet you say that to all the boys,’ James says, a small grin on his face, ‘next time it could be even better…’ but my mind is back to Josh and Portia, and I’m climbing out of the car as James carries on saying something, but I’m not listening. I give him a distracted wave and let myself into the flat, heading straight for the phone.

‘Si, it’s me.’

‘And what are you doing home at this early hour? Unless of course’ – he drops his voice to a whisper, although God knows why because he’s definitely on his own – ‘unless the gorgeous James is in your bedroom, pulling off his boxers at this very moment.’

‘We saw them. Josh and Portia. You were right.’

There’s a gasp on the other end of the phone, then silence for what feels like a very long time.

‘What?’

‘I know. I feel sick. I can’t believe it.’

‘What do you mean, you saw them? Saw them where? What were they doing?’

‘We were sitting in this little French restaurant in Barnes – ’

‘Why did you schlep over to Barnes?’

‘I could ask the same of Josh and Portia, really, couldn’t I? Except I doubt the answer would be the same. I suspect that James chose it because it was lovely, rather than for its discretion. But anyway, there we were, when the door opened and Portia came in…’ I proceed to tell Si the rest of the story, and when I’ve finished I realize from the silence that he’s as shocked as I am.

‘Jesus, Si. Say something. You were the one who said she was after Josh from the beginning.’

‘I know, but I didn’t think she’d actually succeed. I mean, Josh loves
Lucy
. What the hell is he thinking of?’

‘I know. That’s exactly what I thought. But more to the point, Si, what the fuck are we going to do?’

‘Well, I know what we can’t do and that’s tell Lucy.’

‘But we can’t just sit back and watch the marriage of our best friends disintegrate. This is just horrific. I can’t believe how horrific this is.’

‘What about if we talk to Josh? Why don’t we talk to Josh?’

‘I just don’t think I can, Si. Maybe you could.’

‘Oh God, I don’t think so. I hate these confrontations. Look, we’re just going to have to sleep on it tonight. Maybe by the morning we’ll have a plan of action.’

But of course we don’t have a plan of action the next morning, and that’s despite me having hardly slept a wink, tossing and turning, too busy thinking about Josh and Portia to get a decent night’s sleep.

And do you know the worst thing about it? The worst thing about it, and I can’t believe I’m actually saying this because it feels like such a betrayal, but the worst thing about it is that, seeing them together last night, they looked perfect. They looked far more
right
together than Josh and Lucy have ever done, and, as much as it pains me to even think it, they look as though they belong together.

I will never ever tell anyone I think this. Not even Si, not even during our numerous phone calls the next day, starting at eight in the morning and continuing until mid-afternoon, when I tell him to quit or someone will start suspecting something. This whole fiasco has brought out something incredibly protective in me towards Lucy; I feel that I ought to be close to her, to somehow try to shield her, and I follow her around for the rest of the afternoon, making sure she’s okay, although the shop’s so busy we hardly have time to speak, let alone have a proper conversation.

‘Excuse me?’ I look up from sorting out the new stock to see a middle-aged woman standing in front of me, looking imperious. I give her a smile and she, not smiling back, asks: ‘Can you tell me where I’d find the new Dava Sobel?’

‘Sure. It should be on that table at the fr…’ I tail off as the woman starts walking away, no ‘thank you’, nothing, leaving me stranded in mid-sentence. Bill, who’s manning the till, catches my eye and rolls his eyes. ‘I hate it when that happens,’ he says, as I sigh.

‘Just tell me you’ll be the one to help her when she comes back to ask again.’ I grit my teeth, seeing that the woman has, as they always do, gone to the wrong table and is currently browsing through biographies. ‘I don’t think I’ve got enough patience to deal with that today.’

‘No problem,’ says Bill, stepping forward, as the woman marches back to the desk, saying in a loud, disgruntled voice: ‘It’s not there.’