Shopaholic to the Rescue (19 page)

“Did you
feel
unfaithful?”

There’s another long pause. And suddenly there are tears in Suze’s eyes too.

“Yes,” she says, with a wretched defiance. “Yes. I
wanted
to be. I’d had enough. Tarkie was so miserable, and everything was so difficult in England, and Bryce was all fresh and positive and…you know…”

“Sex-god-like.”

I can remember Suze and Bryce meeting for the first time and thinking that there was a spark between them. But never in a million
years
did I think…

It just goes to show: I’m not suspicious enough. That’s it. I’m never trusting anything again. I expect everyone’s having affairs with everyone else and I just haven’t noticed.

“Exactly,” Suze is saying. “He was so different. So confident about everything.”

“So when did you…” My mind is spooling back, trying to work it out. “I mean, you didn’t go to Golden Peace
that
much….Was it in the evenings?”

“Don’t ask me when!” Suze cries out in anguish. “Don’t ask me for dates and times and places! It was a mistake, OK! I realize that now. But it’s too late. He’s got me.”

“What do you mean, he’s got you?”

“He wants money,” says Suze flatly. “Lots of it.”

“You’re not
giving
it to him, are you?” I stare at her.

“What else can I do?”

“Suze! You mustn’t!” I feel almost faint with horror. “You mustn’t give him anything!”

“But he’ll tell Tarkie!” Tears start pouring down Suze’s face. “And my marriage will be over….The children…” She stares into her tequila glass. “Bex, I’ve screwed up my whole life and I don’t know what to do. I couldn’t tell anyone. I’ve been so lonely.”

I feel a tweak of hurt. Well, possibly indignation. Well, possibly anger.

“You could have told me,” I say, trying to sound calm, as opposed to hurt and indignant and angry. “You could always have confided in me, Suze.”

“No, I couldn’t! You and Luke have this perfect relationship. You would never have understood.”

What?
How can she
say
that?

“We nearly split up in L.A.!” I retort in disbelief. “We had a terrible row and Luke went home to England and I didn’t know if he’d even come back. So I think I might have understood. If you’d given me a chance.”

“Oh.” Suze wipes her eyes. “Well…Oh. I didn’t know things were so bad.”

“I tried to tell you, but you weren’t interested! You shut me out!”

“Well, you shut
me
out!”

We’re gazing at each other, breathing hard, both with flushed cheeks and tequila glasses clutched in our hands. I feel as if finally I’m peeling away the layers and saying to Suze what I really want to say.

“OK, Suze, maybe I did shut you out.” My words erupt. “Maybe I did get it wrong in L.A. But you know what? I’ve said sorry a zillion times, I’ve come with you on this trip, I’m doing my best—and you haven’t even
looked
at me. You won’t talk to me, you won’t meet my eye, all you do is criticize me. All you care about is Alicia. But I’m supposed to be your friend.” A mountain of old hurt is rising through me, and my eyes are suddenly hot with tears. “I’m supposed to be your
friend,
Suze.”

“I know,” she whispers, staring into her glass. “I know you are.”

“So why are you treating me like this?” I wipe roughly at my face. “And I’m not making it up. Luke’s noticed it too.”

“Oh God.” Suze looks more anguished than ever. “I know. I’ve been so horrible. But I couldn’t even look at you.”

“Why not?” I feel so agitated, I’m practically shouting. “Why not?”

“Because I knew you’d guess everything!” she bursts out. “You
know
me, Bex. Alicia doesn’t. I can get away with pretending when I’m with Alicia.” As she raises her head, she’s properly crying. I mean, her face is blotchy red and her nose is running and everything. “I can’t keep anything from you.”

“You kept Bryce from me,” I point out.

“By avoiding you. Oh God, Bex.” Suze clutches her hair. “I’ve been in such a state for so long….I wish I’d told you from the start….”

I’ve never seen Suze look so piteous. She seems kind of smaller, and all her Suze-ebullience has gone. Her face is drawn and her hair is all greasy underneath the extensions.

“What if my marriage ends, Bex?” she gulps, and I feel an answering thud of dread in my chest.

“It won’t. Suze, it’ll be OK.” I fling my arms round her. “Don’t cry. We’ll work it out.”

“I’ve been so stupid,” Suze sobs. “Soooooo stupid. Haven’t I?”

But I don’t say anything in return. I just hug her tighter.

I’ve been stupid before. I’ve had things catch up with me before. And Suze has never been mean or told me off. She’s always been supportive. So that’s what I’ll be too.

As we sit there, letting the Mexican music wash over us, I’m thinking back to when things first started going wrong between Suze and me. I thought it was all my fault. I thought it was because of me and my preoccupations. It never occurred to me that she might have a preoccupation of her own.

“Oh my God.” I look up as it hits me. “
That’s
why you’ve been so desperate to get Tarkie away from Bryce. In case Bryce tells him.”

“That was part of it,” Suze admits.

“Wait.” I give a tiny gasp. “Did you
invent
the whole brainwashing thing?”

“No! I was genuinely worried about Tarkie!” says Suze defensively. “He’s really vulnerable. And Bryce is an evil, manipulative—” She stops herself and takes a deep breath. “He’s after money wherever he can get it. At first he thought Tarkie had all the money, so he went after him. Then he worked out I have my own money too, so he…Well.” She swallows. “He moved on to me.”

“You can’t give him any. You do know that.” Suze doesn’t react, and I eye her sternly. “You do know that, don’t you, Suze? What have you said to him?”

“I’ve said I’ll meet him at seven
P.M
. and give him some money,” mumbles Suze.

“Suze!”

“Well, what else can I do?”

“If you pay him once, he’ll have you in his power forever. Never give in to a blackmailer. Everyone knows that.”

“But what if he tells Tarkie?” Suze puts down her empty shot glass and thrusts her hands through her hair again. “Bex, what if I’ve really fucked up? What if Tarkie and I split up? What about the children?” Her voice is trembling. “I’ve jeopardized my whole life, everything….”

A guy from the Mexican band comes up and shakes his maracas at Suze with a beaming smile on his face. He offers her one to shake too, but he’s picked the wrong girl.

“Leave me
alone
!” yells Suze, and the maracas man backs away, startled.

For a while we both sit there in silence. My head is spinning a bit, and it’s not just from the tequila. I still have a zillion questions for Suze, like,
Who made the first move?
and
What do you mean, “not exactly”?
But I can’t start quizzing her now. The important thing is to get rid of Bryce.

“Suze, Tarkie won’t leave you,” I say abruptly.

“Why wouldn’t he?
I’d
leave me.” She looks up with miserable eyes. “I can be a real nightmare. I lose my temper with him and I say all kinds of frightful things….”

“I know,” I say awkwardly. “He told me. Look, Suze, you should know something. I’ve been in contact with Tarkie without telling you.”

Her eyes spark in shock and she draws a long breath. For an awful moment I think she’s going to shout at me. But then she exhales and the rage sort of subsides.

“Right,” she says at last. “I might have known. And he said,
My wife’s a bitch.
”

“No! Of course he didn’t!” I try to think of how to put it tactfully. “He said…um…you’d had difficulties.”

“Difficulties!” She gives a short, bitter laugh.

“No, but listen, Suze,” I continue eagerly. “It’s all
good
. Tarquin’s far stronger than you think. He’s separated from my dad now, he’s doing his own thing to help, and he sounds really positive. I don’t reckon Bryce brainwashed him at all. I think the reason he was so bad-tempered in L.A. was…other things.”

“Me.”

“Not just you. The whole situation. But now he’s got away…he feels useful…I think he’s in a better place.”

Suze is silent for a moment, mulling this over.

“Tarkie adores your dad,” she says at last. “Your dad is the father he would have loved to have had.”

“I know.”

“Did he say what they’re doing?”

“Of course not.” I roll my eyes. “He told me to give my dad some privacy and go back to L.A.”

“Maybe he’s got a point.” Suze draws her feet up onto her barstool and wraps her arms round her knees. “I mean, what are we doing? What are we all
doing
?”

I think this is one of those questions that you don’t actually reply to. So, instead of saying,
We’re tracking Tarkie because you told us to, Suze,
I just sip my tequila.

“I feel like I’ve been in this horrible crazy place,” Suze says suddenly. “And I took it out on you, Bex.”

“No, you didn’t.” I shrug, feeling embarrassed.

“I did.” She gazes at me with huge, miserable eyes. “I’ve been hateful. I can’t believe you’re still talking to me.”

“Well…” I hesitate, trying to find the words. “You’re my friend. And I was pretty hateful in L.A. We’ve both been hateful.”

“I was
more
hateful,” says Suze emphatically. “Because I tried to make you feel guilty all the time. But what was I doing?
What was I doing?
” Her voice rises in distress and fresh tears start flooding down her face. “It’s been a kind of madness. Ever since I came out to L.A., I felt like I wanted to escape my boring old British life. But now I’d give anything to…” She trails off and scrubs at her eyes. “I’d give anything for…”

“You can have your life back,” I say firmly. “But first you have to
not
give any money to Bryce.”

Suze is silent for a while, twisting her hands round and round.

“But what if he tells Tarkie?” she whispers at last.

“You can’t wait for that.” I steel myself to say what I know is right. “Suze, you have to tell Tarkie yourself. As soon as possible.”

As she gazes back at me, she looks utterly ill. But after what feels like about half an hour, she nods.

—

I think I feel nearly as sick as Suze does. I’ve had to admit plenty of awkward things to Luke over the years, like when I sold his six Tiffany clocks on eBay without telling him. But selling Tiffany clocks and kissing another man aren’t even in the same
category
.

And when I say “kissing,” I’m being kind to Suze, because it was obviously far more than kissing. (Although exactly what? She still won’t tell me, and I’m obviously too mature to ask her to draw a stick diagram. I’ll just have to use my imagination.)

(Actually, no, don’t do that. Urgh.
Bad
imagination.)

We’ve agreed that I’ll make the call and then pass the phone over to her, and as I press the speed-dial button, my heart is pumping.

“Tarkie!” I say fiercely as soon as he answers. “Listen. You have to talk to Suze right now, and if you don’t, I’m never speaking to you again, and when I tell my dad, he won’t either. This is
stupid
. You can’t keep phoning me and avoiding Suze. She’s your
wife
. And she has some very important things to say.”

There’s silence on the other end, then Tarkie says, “OK, put her on.” He sounds a bit chastened, actually.

I pass the phone to Suze, then retreat. I was half-hoping Suze would ask me to stay with her, so I could press my ear to the back of the phone and hear Tarkie’s side of the conversation. But she said she had to talk in private.

Which…you know. It’s her marriage and everything. Although I
would
have been very helpful and given her Dutch courage and prompted her when she ran out of words. I’m just saying.

Anyway, it’s fine. She’s gone outside the tent and I’m sitting by the Mexican band, drinking a Diet Coke to dilute the tequila. A guy in a poncho handed me a tambourine a few moments ago, and he looked so eager I didn’t have the heart to say no. So I’m banging it and singing in what I
think
is pretty good Spanish (“Aheya-aheya-aheya-aheya”) and trying not to picture Suze and Tarquin standing on the steps of a divorce court, when suddenly there she is, back again.

My heart gives this almighty swoop and my tambourine falls limply to my side. She’s standing by the flap of the tent, her face flushed, breathing hard, looking totally freaked out.

“What happened?” I venture as she approaches. “Suze, are you OK?”

“Bex, the trees on our estate,” she mutters feverishly. “The trees. Do you remember anything about them? Anything at all?”

Trees?
What
is
she going on about?

“Um, no,” I say cautiously. “I don’t know anything about trees. Suze, focus. What happened? How were things left?”

“I don’t know.” She’s looking bleak.

“You don’t
know
?” I stare at her. “How can you not know? What did he say?”

“We talked. I told him. I mean, he didn’t quite understand to begin with….” She rubs her nose.

OK, I can just imagine the conversation. Suze saying,
I’ve had this dreadful thing happen, Tarkie,
and Tarkie thinking she’s lost her mascara.

“Did you actually
tell
him?” I demand severely. “Does he actually know what’s happened?”

“Yes.” She swallows. “Yes, he…he got it in the end. I mean, the signal was pretty patchy.”

“And?”

“He was really shocked. I think I’d kidded myself he might have guessed…but he hadn’t.”

Honestly. Of course he hadn’t guessed. This is Tarkie. Only I don’t say this to Suze, because she’s in full flight.

“I kept saying I was sorry and it wasn’t as bad as he probably imagined”—Suze gulps—“and that I couldn’t, you know, bring myself to go the whole way with Bryce, and he said, Was he supposed to be
grateful
for that?”