Getting Even (23 page)

“Yes.”

“Fucking hell. You're incredible.”

“God, Orianna! Why do you have to make such a big deal of everything? Cassie wanted to be at the press pass—you know she's dead proud of that pack, the envelopes involve some tricky die-cutting. She thought it would be a good idea to see a printer on the job too—she's never been to one in this country. So she asked me if she could come and check it out, and I said yes. You've always encouraged her to take pride in her work. I think she thought you might be pleased. It's not during office hours, after all.”

“
Pleased?!
” By now Orianna was too incensed to know what to argue. She picked the first of a million protestations that sprang to mind. “But neither of you told me!”

“I didn't think we had to.”

If Orianna had wanted to punch him before, now she had a mind to slaughter the pair of them. “Let. Me. Get. This. Straight. You and Cassie are pissing off together for the night and you
didn't think you had to ask me
?”

“Yes!” It seemed Dan was cross too. How ludicrous—what right did
he
have to be angry?

“Well, it'll have to keep till tomorrow then, won't it?” she reiterated.

“If you won't talk now, I guess it will.”

“Yes.” She laid on sarcasm with a ladle. “Me and my ‘five minute chat' …”

At that instant there was a tap on the door. Orianna still wasn't thinking straight, so without asking who it was, she said, “Come in.”

And in walked Cassie.

“Orianna—” Then Cassie saw Dan. “Oh … er … sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt.”

“Sure,” snarled Orianna. “You've
interrupted
us before; why not interrupt this too?”

Yet her biting tone seemed to pass Cassie by. “I just wanted to check with you that it's OK if I go to the printers with Dan tonight?”

Christ, thought Orianna. Now she wants my blessing that she's spending the night with my boyfriend! She was so appalled she couldn't respond.

Cassie continued, “I'd really like to—”

“I bet!”

Cassie seemed to cotton on that this was not a good moment. She flushed and looked nervously from Orianna to Dan. “I guess I'll, er … catch you later,” she said and made a rapid exit.

“What on earth did you do that for?” asked Dan.

“What for?”

“Bite her head off?”

“Why do you think, Dan?”

“Orianna,” Dan said. “I really don't understand what's got into you. Perhaps you should go and see a doctor. Come to that, a shrink might be a better idea. Whatever, I think you need a day or two to calm down.” He picked up his papers. “I'll speak to you tomorrow.” And he turned and left with another bang of the door.

 

27. I had rather be a toad … than keep a corner in the thing I love for other's uses

Orianna arrived home, poured herself a huge glass of wine, and sat down heavily on the sofa. The longer she sat there, the more she thought about Dan and Cassie. Where were they now? She checked her watch. It was 7:35. He'd be at her apartment. Were they having sex before leaving for Leicester? Maybe they hadn't gone to Leicester at all.

And to think I liked her, thought Orianna. I gave her a job—I even believed she was pretty! She imagined Cassie opening the door to her home, dressed in a baby-doll nightie, blond bob painstakingly coiffed like someone from the cover of a Jacqueline Susann novel. God—of
course
—Cassie had been doing a lot of that recently, hadn't she? She was always in the ladies' room at work. Primping and pouting. No bloody wonder.

Orianna took a large gulp of wine, reached into her bag, and pulled out her mobile. Perhaps Dan had tried to get in touch. Come to his senses, realized he was being a jerk and wanted to see her later.

She looked to see if there were any messages—she even called her voice mail in case the icon had failed to show up on the screen. She got up, checked the landline. The answering machine wasn't flashing—but she dialed 1471 to see if Dan had called. No one had called that day at all.

She returned to the sofa, took another gulp of wine, checked her watch again. Where were they now? Doubtless on the M1. If not …

She shivered.

I can't stand this, she thought. I have to call him.

She tapped his number on speed dial, then, just before the line connected, decided better of it. To hell with him. If Dan could toss her out of his life like that after so many months together, pretend all she was worth was a
five-minute conversation,
then she wasn't going to flatter him by phoning. The last thing he deserved was an ego massage. She was a creative director for Christ's sake! She was older than him, more powerful. She earned more, anyway. Who did he think he was?

Another swig of wine.

Orianna was not normally one for drinking alone, or so fast, and at first it seemed to be helping, calming her. But after another ten minutes her fury had subsided, allowing pain and sorrow to take over. Shortly she started to cry; tears gave way to sobs, sobs to howls. She didn't know she had it in her to make such a noise, but at least no one would hear her.

Then the phone rang.

She jumped and stopped weeping. Dan? She picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Orianna? It's Ivy.”

“Oh, hi.” Her heart sank. Then her spirits lifted slightly; perhaps Ivy was the next best thing.

“I was just calling to check if you were feeling better.”

“Er…” Given a sympathetic ear, Orianna's tears started to fall again.

“You're not, I can tell. Are you crying?”

Orianna sniffed loudly.

“What's up, honey?”

“It's Dan!”

“Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry. What's happened?”

“He's seeing someone else!”

“My God—
no!
Who?”

“Cassie!” Then out it poured in one long rush: the watch, the revised schedule, the trip to Leicester. “And he seems to think I'm an idiot for being upset about any of it!” she finished.

“He's a piece of shit,” said Ivy.

Orianna winced. It was one thing if she thought this; another to have it articulated by another person, even her best friend. It underlined the dreadfulness of Dan's behavior.

“Do you want me to come over?”

Orianna considered for a moment.

“I can bring some wine. Pick up a pizza on the way or something. I could even…” she paused, obviously not wanting to impose, “stay over if you like.”

The image of Ivy and herself curled up on the sofa with a pizza was therapeutic. She sniffed again. “Actually, that would be good.”

“I'll drive,” said Ivy. “Give me a sec to get my stuff together.”

“Great. Thanks.”

“See you in a bit,” said Ivy, and hung up.

Orianna got to her feet and went to the bathroom to check her face in the mirror.

I look
dreadful,
she thought. Blotchy red cheeks, mascara smudged everywhere. She blew her nose. Ivy could cope with her au naturel, but she should clean her face. As she removed her eye makeup she reflected on Ivy.

How much easier it is to be friends with a woman, she sighed. It's far safer emotionally. I've never been hurt by a girlfriend like I have by men, or betrayed, or even particularly confused or upset. I understand women; we speak the same language. And of all the women in my life there's no one I value as much as Ivy; right now I appreciate her more than ever. With Ivy I know where I stand, how our relationship operates. Goodness—Ivy coped with my seeing Dan in secret and then forgave me the promotion. She's even been gracious about working with Cassie. What man would deal so well with all that?

Orianna checked her watch again. Ivy didn't live that far away, and knowing the speed she liked to drive her BMW, she should be here in a few minutes.

*   *   *

“I'm going out,” said Ivy, slinging her mobile into her bag.

Ed stopped pouring himself a Scotch midflow. Slowly he put down the bottle and glass. “But I said I wanted to talk.”

“And I said I didn't.”

“You never want to talk.”

“Not about certain things I don't, no.”

“But it's our marriage, Ivy. We've got to sort this out sometime.”

She glanced at him. In a dreadful lumberjack shirt and with the hideous beard he'd grown since she last saw him, he looked like an off-duty Canadian Mountie. How could she
ever
have found him attractive? She got to her feet. “It'll keep.”

“God, Ivy, this is the first time I've seen you in weeks.”

“I know. Sad, isn't it?” She headed to the bathroom.

Ed followed her. There wasn't space for both of them so he stood at the door. “What on earth's that much more important than our relationship?”

“Quite a lot, actually.” She reached up to pull her sponge bag down from on top of the cabinet.

He grabbed her wrist. “Where are you going?”

“To see a friend.” Ivy snatched her wrist away.

“What kind of friend?”

“Mind your business.”

“A boyfriend?”

“If it was, do you think I'd tell you?” Ivy started to load her toiletries.

“Are you coming back?”

“Tonight? No.”

“
Fucking hell, Ivy!
” He kicked the door. It rocked on its hinges.

“Careful,” said Ivy, sweeping past him. “You might hurt yourself.”

Five minutes later she was in her Z4. Before she turned on the ignition, she phoned Orianna's favorite pizza parlor in Islington and placed an order. Then she set off, stopping in Shoreditch en route to pick up a bottle of red—no point in spending too much as Orianna would never notice in the state she was in, though she couldn't stand utter rubbish herself so begrudgingly parted with nearly £10—and presently she was drumming her nails on the countertop at the pizza place, waiting for their pies. By nine o'clock she was pulling up outside Orianna's apartment.

It's months since I've been here, she thought, mounting the steps to the front door. How weird it feels, being back.

But it didn't seem to have changed much. A nearby streetlamp revealed the same geraniums in the window box as ever, valiantly attempting a last burst of scarlet before the autumn frosts set in. There were the familiar curtains, covered in a design based on Leonardo's botanical sketches, drawn as it was dark. And there, by the doorbell, the label that Orianna had proudly designed on her Mac when she'd moved in all those years ago. It said O. B
IANCHI,
G
ARDEN
A
PARTMENT
in swirly lettering.

We used to hang out here such a lot, before Dan, recalled Ivy. Since Orianna started seeing him she hadn't been invited that often, and when she had she'd suspected that Dan would be there too. The idea of hanging out with such a cozy couple was the last thing Ivy wanted to do, so even when she had been asked, she'd made her excuses.

Well, she thought, putting down her bag and tucking the pizzas under her chin so she could press the buzzer, with any luck that could change. Soon I might not be the one feeling excluded. Because the way things are panning out, it doesn't look as if Dan will be visiting this apartment quite so often in the future.

 

28. Tonight, I do entreat that we may sup together

“Shall we stop to eat?” said Dan. They'd just passed a sign for Leicester Forest East Services. “I'm starving and we're making good time.”

“That would be great,” said Cassie. “I could do with going to the restroom.”

As they pulled into the parking lot, Dan wondered if he should try phoning Orianna again. He'd tried before they'd hit the M1, but her phone had been engaged.

Almost before he'd come to a stop, Cassie had undone her seat belt and opened the door. “Sorry, you'll have to excuse me. I'm desperate!” Dan had to run to catch up with her, and it wasn't until he was inside the building that he realized he'd left his mobile in the glove compartment of his Fiesta.

Blast, he thought. I'll lose Cassie if I go back for it.

Eventually Cassie emerged from the loo.

She looks tired, he observed, yet she's replenished her lipstick. Does she never let her image slide?

“Right then,” she took his arm. “Food, here we come.”

So the moment to call Orianna passed.

In the cafe, Cassie selected a small salad and mineral water. “I don't fancy eating much.”

As he helped himself to fish and chips, Dan thought fondly of Orianna. With such a spread before her, she'd never be able to resist something fattening either. Her passion for food is one of the things I love about her, he thought. I'd rather that any day than someone like Cassie who seems to count every calorie.

But over the meal he decided he'd better make an effort. He was aware he was normally far chummier with Cassie than he'd been thus far. Perhaps it would be friendly to ask about her love life. He ventured, “Now that we're out of the agency, tell me … Are you seeing anyone at the moment?”

To his surprise Cassie almost choked on her lettuce. “Er … Why do you ask?”

He shrugged. “Just wondered.” It's not that strange a question, he thought. After all, half the men at Green seem to have the hots for her.

Eventually, she admitted, “I have been seeing—um—someone, yeah.”

“Oh.” Dan nodded. “Is it serious?”

“Kind of,” said Cassie.

“Anyone I know?”

“Maybe.” Cassie toyed with a piece of tomato. Dan wished she'd hurry up and eat—it was well past suppertime, for goodness' sake, and she barely seemed able to get through a bowl of leaves without any dressing. The contrast made him feel greedy. At last she blurted, “Actually, yeah.”