Summer at Tiffany's (11 page)

‘Why?'

‘We've got a welcome-home party to go to at the Cross Keys tonight. My little cousin's back in town.'

Cassie, who had been about to open a packet of crisps, dropped her hands down. ‘Henry, we
can't
go to a party when Arch is so ill! That's tactless.'

‘No, it's actually a kindness. If we don't go, Mum will feel like she has to and she's stretched thin enough at the moment trying to keep the balls in the air with Suzy and Velvet. Clearly Suze can't go and someone from the family's got to turn up.' He raked his fingers through his hair, looking worn out and battered. ‘Trust me, you don't want to see Gem in a sulk.'

‘Gem . . . ?'

‘Gemma. Her dad was Mum's big brother. Uncle Pip.'

‘Oh, right . . . I don't think I've ever met her, though, have I?' Cassie asked. She'd heard plenty of anecdotes from Suzy about Uncle Pip over the years but she didn't recollect ever hearing Gemma's name before now.

‘Probably not. She's a lot younger and she's been backpacking around the world for the past two years or so. Mum's her legal guardian. Gem's parents died in a house fire when she was twelve.'

‘Oh God, the poor girl!' Cassie exclaimed, her forearm falling flat to the table like a dead thing.

‘Yeah, she took it pretty badly. As if adolescence isn't hard enough . . .' He took another swig, manifesting his stress that way. ‘Mum says she's settled down now though. They've been emailing and she's a lot calmer apparently.'

‘Calmer?' Anouk echoed with eyes slitted in suspicion.

‘The fire really messed her up for a bit. She was expelled from something like six schools? Ended up at some artyfarty place in Dorset eventually, went to Sussex uni, dropped out and then went travelling.'

‘So then . . . she's only about twenty?' Cassie had an antenna for people living bigger lives than she had dared to do and it already sounded like this girl had done more living in twenty years than she had in thirty.

‘Yeah. Twenty-one this summer. You'll love her anyway – she's a blast. Talks twelve to the dozen, loves
everyone
, believes grass has a soul.' He shrugged. ‘What's not to like, right?'

Cassie and Anouk swapped alarmed looks. They were on guard already.

‘Henry, you've got to get a bigger car, man,' Bas said, unfolding himself from the Flying Tomato, Henry's faded-red old-school Mini, with a groan. Cassie always found it hysterical how oversized Henry looked driving it, but Bas had another three inches on him and had cruised the Kings Road with his chin on his knees, leaving both girls crying with laughter on the back seat.

Henry reached for Cassie's hand to pull her out and Anouk hopped easily from the back seat, looking up at the red-brick mansion blocks surrounding them on all sides. They were in the heart of Chelsea, a hop, skip and a jump from the prestigious Cheyne Walk, home to rock stars, topflight designers and aristos wise enough to live on interest, not capital.

The river slipped silently past only metres away, and mature trees cast dappled shadows on the pavements. Nothing went for under five million in this area – not a garage, not a studio, not even a broom cupboard with a pull-down bed – and there was a moneyed hush to these backstreets, which sat nestled between the river and the Kings Road, the narrow facades belying cavernous homes with dug-out, subterranean levels and meticulously landscaped back gardens with Japanese or modernist themes.

At first glance, the crowd outside the pub seemed anomalous with SW3's groomed vibe – girls were in denim cut-offs and baggy dungarees worn, bra-less, over vests, fluoro bracelets stacked up their arms and hair piled up in scruffy topknots; the guys looked like they belonged in Shoreditch, not Chelsea, wearing skinny rolled-up chinos, tatty linen espadrilles with the heels crushed underfoot and narrow check shirts. But their tans were expensively layered – Christmas in Mustique, followed by Easter in Verbier – and their accents betrayed expensive educations that no amount of roll-up cigarettes and prolific swearing could hide.

Cassie looked down at her chambray minidress and ankle boots, feeling caught between worlds – not cool enough for this crowd, but too casual for Gem's party? Anouk, of course, fitted in perfectly, effortlessly drawing admiring glances from the hipster girls in her slate silk harem pants and a grey linen T-shirt, with gladiator sandals and some of her own-design leather lariats, having pulled the outfit from her overnight bag like it was a bad smell but would ‘have to do'.

They all walked into the pub together, each of them pausing momentarily as they were hit by the wall of noise. It was rammed in there – every table taken, barely standing room at the bar – and Henry found Cassie's hand, pulling her through the crowd towards the staircase to the left. The bass beat of music thumped louder as they squeezed past people standing on the stairs, all drinking and laughing above the din.

Cassie wondered where the usual pub crowd ended and Gem's party began. Everyone in here seemed so young. Or was that just a sign that she was getting old? She frowned. Her marriage to Gil had prematurely aged her, as she settled down throughout her twenties to a life of shoot dinners and Highland balls, but since being with Henry, she'd felt her youthfulness blossom again, as she caught up on all the things she'd missed out on: going to concerts, wild swimming, creeping onto the roof with a duvet and pillows and sleeping under the stars, drinking a whole bottle of wine and not caring about the hangover the next day . . .

She wasn't ready to move over for the younger kids. Not yet. This was her time, her moment, when life was exactly as she wanted it, exactly as she'd dreamed – young, free and living with the man she loved in a set of rooftop rooms they'd managed to make into a home.

Balloons were clustered on the wall lights, and a huge banner made from a bed sheet was strung above the windows at the front and spray-painted to read, ‘Welcome home, Gem!'

‘So where is she, then?' Cassie called up to Henry, taking in the sea of dewy complexions, gap-year tans and effortlessly firm flesh.

‘Do you really need to ask?' Henry laughed, his eyes on a petite brunette dancing on a table in the far corner. Her dark hair had been woven into tight cornrows, her face and palms upturned to the ceiling – but notionally the sky, Cassie suspected – as she swayed, eyes closed, to the ambient strains of London Grammar.

‘Ew,' Bas said, wincing at the sight of Gem's cornrows. To a hairdresser of his international standing, cornrows were to hair what braces were to teeth.

Cassie rubbed his arm consolingly as they made their way over, Henry eagerly ploughing through the crowd ahead of them.

‘Hey, you!' he shouted, stopping in front of Gem's table and pointing up to her aggressively.

Gem opened her eyes and looked down, her eyes lighting up with delight as she saw her tall, handsome cousin looking back at her.

‘Henners!' she yelled, a smile of utter delight on her face at the sight of him.

‘Who said you could start dancing on tables before I got here?' he shouted up to her, making her throw her head back in laughter.

‘You're so right! Geronimo!' she yelled, and in the next moment she had flung her arms out and propelled herself forward through the air, towering above the crowd that separated them, before toppling onto their outstretched arms and surfing her way over them. Henry grabbed her hand as she was passed back towards him, lifting her slightly – his height gave him enough advantage to get her to a more vertical position – and as the hands accordingly fell away, she was standing in front of him.

‘Hating being back, then?' he grinned, before hugging her tightly so that her feet came off the ground. She really was tiny – no more than five foot three, with a heart-shaped face, snub nose and small dark, nearly black eyes. Her smile seemed elastic, like it was on strings, and apart from the clear addiction to adrenalin, Cassie couldn't see the family resemblance.

Gem reached up, her hands solemn upon Henry's shoulders, her bright smile of seconds before suddenly completely gone. ‘Tell me, how is he?' she asked, her face so utterly solemn Cassie wasn't quite sure whether she was taking the mickey or not.

‘Improving all the time. On a general ward now. You know Arch – he couldn't understand why he couldn't come here tonight!'

Gem laughed – a sudden high squeal of delight and surprise that made Cassie jump and Anouk take a half-step back, her left eyebrow already in its customary arch. ‘I love him so much!'

‘I know. He's mad about you too. And Suzy's gutted not to be here, but she said if she doesn't set a good example for him . . .' Henry rolled his eyes.

‘Love it! Love it! Good old Suze. It doesn't sound like she's changed, then.'

‘I think we can say her ways are fairly set now. Besides, you've only been gone a couple of years! Not that much has changed.'

‘Well,
you've
gone and got engaged again!' She slapped him lovingly on the arm, quite hard.

Cassie winced – not at the slap but at Gem's choice of words; wishing she hadn't brought up the memory of his previous engagement.

‘I got lucky.'

‘
She
did, you mean! Is she here?' Gem seemed oblivious to their small crowd, gathered politely at Henry's shoulder, waiting to break into the cosy reunion. Her eyes hadn't left his, once. ‘I want to see the woman who's ensnared my slippery, enigmatic, elusive cousin.'

Cassie felt her stomach tighten. Well, when it was put like that . . .

Henry pulled Cassie forward and she tucked her hair behind her ear as she smiled nervously at this tiny girl who was clearly way more important to Henry than he had let on.

‘
Cassie?
' Gem asked, her eyes so wide Cassie thought she might overbalance.

Had they met before?

‘Hi,' Cassie smiled, holding out her hand.

‘I can't believe it!
You're
marrying Henry?'

‘Uh, yes. Yes, I am,' Cassie faltered, tucking her hair behind the other ear as it became clear Gem wasn't going to shake her hand. No doubt she was supposed to have fist-bumped.

Gem nodded, her hands on her hips and grinning at her. ‘You don't remember me, do you?'

‘Um . . .' Cassie bit her lip apologetically.

‘
Years
ago,' Gem said, swaying to the side like a Weeble as she spoke. ‘You were back from boarding school with Suze and the two of you made me be your Girls' World.' She watched Cassie's face remain blank. ‘You know, like one of those styling heads – blue eyeshadow, lip gloss, little plaits?' She pulled one of her cornrows. ‘Not that you could do that to me now, right?'

‘Gosh, I'm sorry. I don't . . . I don't remember that at all.'

There was a tiny pause. ‘Agh, that's OK.' Gem made a dismissive gesture with her hand. ‘It made more impact on me because you two were the cool big girls and I was just the little-squirt cousin, over for the night while my folks went to some hunt ball or something.'

‘Oh . . . Did we . . . did we give you a good hairstyle?'

Beside her, Henry laughed. Cassie imagined Anouk was scowling.

‘Hey, where d'you think my love of braids comes from?' Gem laughed, twirling another of her cornrows like it was a cancan dancer's leg.

Cassie felt embarrassed that she had no recollection of the event at all. ‘Well, you really should meet my friends Bas and Anouk.' She stepped back to widen the circle. ‘Bas is one of the top hairstylists in New York. He's just on a stopover from Paris.'

‘Hey, Bas, you like? Pretty rad, right?' Gem beamed, leaning in slightly so he could see the masterful precision of the cornrows across her scalp. Not a hair was out of alignment.

‘Impressive,' he nodded politely, looking like a sunflower in a field of daisies.

‘And I
love
your lariats. I didn't see any like that in Ibiza,' Gem continued, looking at Anouk with something approaching reverence (although to be fair, Anouk got that a lot).

‘
Non?
'

Gem's eyes narrowed as she took in Anouk's accent. ‘Oh hey, wait! You're not . . . you're not the French one, are you?'

‘The French one?' Anouk didn't look happy with the label.

‘Oh God, you are! Do you guys
still
see each other?' Gem asked, eyes wide again as she clapped her hands and looked between the two women. ‘What was the other girl called? American.'

‘Kelly,' Bas said.

‘That's it! Kelly! Oh God, you know her too, Bas.' Her hands folded over her heart, and her head tipped to the side. ‘You're all still together, like a little family.' She placed a hand on Anouk's arm. ‘Do you have any idea how much I idolized you guys when I was growing up? I wanted all of you to be my best friends. I wanted to be just like you. Actually, who am I kidding?' she laughed. ‘I wanted to
be
you. I wanted Cassie's eyes, Kelly's hair, Suzy's bosoms' – Gem cupped her own, but they were resolutely flat – ‘and your skin,' she said, gazing at Anouk reverentially.

Anouk merely blinked. ‘We don't have drinks,' she said bluntly, throwing out her incomprehensibly empty hands to make the point.

‘Allow me,' Bas said with a nod of his head, turning on his heels towards the bar.

‘I'll help,' Anouk said, following after, which was notable, as she never usually helped. Cassie watched them go enviously.

‘Isn't she great?' Henry whispered in her ear, before kissing her on the cheek. Cassie nodded, but in truth, she'd never met someone who spoke so quickly before. It was like being machine-gunned.

‘So, Gem, give me the virtual tour. What was your route? Where've you been?' Henry asked, looping an arm over Cassie's shoulder, keeping her by his side.