Summer at Tiffany's (33 page)

‘She and Gem are having their cards read. Some woman in Tintagel apparently.'

Cassie laughed.

‘You said you wouldn't!'

‘I'm laughing at how you pronounced “Tintagel”. It's “Tin-taj-el”,' Cassie corrected.

‘Right, that's what I said,' he protested. ‘Hey, look, I'm American. What'd you expect? Besides, you're a fine one to talk. You can't say “Chance”.'

‘Oh, don't start that up again,' she groaned, still convinced that they'd only seen so much of his friend Chance in New York because it made them all crack up to hear her pronunciation of his name: they used the flat ‘a' of ‘apple', whereas she used the ‘ah' of ‘aria'. ‘At least I—' She stopped herself abruptly. What was she thinking, falling back into their past jokes?

‘So where's Suzy?' he asked, after a moment that felt considerably longer.

‘Wadebridge. We were out of nappies and muesli.' She rolled her eyes. ‘Poor Arch. I think he'd sell Velvet for a bacon butty right now.'

He smiled and she wondered where he'd been for the past few days. She hadn't seen him since he and Laird had surprised the girls at the bridal boutique, and she couldn't help but wonder whether his absence had been deliberate. She remembered the shock on his face at seeing her in the dress. Had it bothered him, seeing her dressed as another man's bride? Or was she, as Suzy had said, reading too much into it, unable to accept that he had moved on, once and for all?

She shook the thought away. No, Suzy was wrong. Cassie had Henry. She didn't need her ex to bolster her ego.

‘He looks good on it, though. Arch, I mean,' he said after another pause. ‘He's caught some sun and shifted some timber, to use his words.'

‘Yes. He's looking much healthier.' She sighed lightly, wishing she could get up off her elbows and move to a sitting position – her arms and shoulders were tender after last night's brutal exercise – but her bikini suddenly felt too much like a bra and knickers in his company and she kept herself shielded instead, with only her back and calves on display.

She knew it was stupid to be so coy. What would he care to see her in her bikini? He did swimwear and lingerie shoots in his sleep. And besides, nothing he had done in all the times they had seen each other here had betrayed anything other than genuine contrition and what seemed to be a certain nostalgic fondness. But even knowing all that, she couldn't pretend that he hadn't seen her naked or forget that he knew what she liked in bed, and she felt that knowledge run like a current between them at all times.

‘So . . . I heard you had a fun night,' he said, yet again trying to ignite the conversation, and she nodded brightly, knowing she had to at least try to help them move on. ‘You came fourth, was it?'

‘Yes, unbelievably – given that they were effectively a man down . . . or girl.'

‘Archie said you were brilliant. Determined, I think was the word he used.'

‘Well, I'd never hear the end of it if I failed at something on the list.'

Luke's mouth parted in surprise. ‘Oh, I see. This is another of Henry's famous lists, is it?'

She smiled and gave an awkward shrug, knowing they both recalled how the list for New York had brought such tension into their relationship – the Christmas present on it, particularly, had almost led to a fight between them.

‘Good to hear he's still going strong with that.'

Cassie looked at him but couldn't read his tone and she started studying a blade of grass instead, wondering how to change the subject. ‘Anyway, it was great fun. I may even try it again.'

‘Really?'

‘Yes, they have training sessions on Wednesday nights and Sunday mornings, so if I do stay here . . .'

‘You mean you might be going?' he asked, shocked.

‘I . . . don't know. Maybe.' She shrugged. ‘Work. You know . . .'

The truth was, she wasn't sure now about whether or not to stay. Last night had changed things. Working that hard had felt cathartic somehow, like she'd sweated some of her restlessness out of her system. Did it matter if she was in Cornwall or London? Gil was still going to remarry on Saturday; Henry was still going to be in the Pacific on a bottle-boat.

‘Well, that would be a shame,' he said quietly, looking out to sea.

Would it be? she wondered. She stared at his profile, so handsome, and wished he'd never stepped back into her life. Could she really stay down here, with the possibility of seeing him round every corner? She never knew when, or where, she was going to see him next, or whether his intentions were benign or not, and she felt unsettled and jumpy.

Cassie looked away and picked at the grass. It was no good. As they sat there alone, just the two of them, the tension between them crackled. They didn't even need to look at each other to feel it. It didn't matter that they had moved on to new relationships, they were never going to be able to do the ‘just good friends' gig. They could be polite, civil, but they had never been friends in the first place; the chemistry between them didn't allow it. They had a past that meant they could have no future, no matter what shape it took.

‘Oh my God!'

The voice at the gate made them both turn.

‘You are not going to believe what we've just seen!' Gem said, shooting through the gate like she was jet-propelled. ‘Oh no, Luke, you can't hear this. You're a boy.'

‘Where's Amber?' Luke asked, sitting straighter.

‘She's gone to have a shower. It's so hot!' Gem puffed, pulling her T-shirt away from her neck and blowing air on her own face.

‘I'll go join her,' Luke said, before freezing momentarily as he realized how that had sounded.

‘I bet you will!' Gem gave a dirty laugh, smacking him on the bum as he got up and passed by, his eyes meeting Cassie's in the briefest of glances as he nodded his goodbye.

‘So,' Gem said, falling into a lotus position. ‘Can you guess?'

Cassie shook her head, her mood soured by the conversation that had just passed, and she wasn't sure she had the patience to indulge Suzy's hyperactive, self-obsessed little cousin right now. ‘Nope.'

She watched as Gem reached into the back pocket of her linen shorts and pulled out a flyer: ‘Rock Oyster Festival, Diningfold Hall, 11–12 July.'

‘What is it? A festival?'

‘Duh! That's what it says, doesn't it?' Gem laughed. ‘Look, it's music, food, circus acts . . .' She clasped Cassie's hands. ‘Have you ever been to Glasto?' she asked Cassie with the earnestness of a discussion about organ donation.

Cassie shook her head again, now violently wishing Suzy would come back.

Gem looked at her with sudden pity. ‘Oh, you really must! You haven't lived. It's a rite of passage, Cass, and I mean that.'

‘Well, I—'

‘Which is why this is
so
great.' She stretched out ‘so' like it was a limo. ‘It'll be Glasto but smaller. Way smaller. More intimate. Which I prefer.'

Cassie also violently wished Gem wouldn't speak in bullet points. ‘I take it you and Amber are going, then?'

‘Me and . . . ?' Gem gasped, eyes burning. ‘Cass, you don't get it! Of course me and Amber are going. We
all
are. This isn't just going to be any old festival, you know.'

‘What's it going to be, then?' Cassie asked carelessly, picking up the book again and looking for her page.

Gem leaped up and did a perfect cartwheel, finishing with an extravagant showgirl flourish of her arms. ‘My hen night!'

Cassie walked out of the village store, confused. She could have sworn Archie had said he'd picked up his emails from the Wi-Fi cafe at the back of the shop, but the two tables and chairs that passed for the cafe had only laminated menus to their name – sadly there was no Wi-Fi here, like the rest of the village – and she had had to buy a cobbler loaf, just to mask her confusion.

She threw the bread into the basket and her leg over the bike frame, staring unseeing down the lane towards Polzeath. The tide was way out, the exposed beach glimmering in the sunlight, the die-hard surfers but coloured dots. If Archie hadn't picked up his emails from here, then how had he received Henry's list? Henry hadn't known she was coming down when he'd left for Australia, so he couldn't have written it in advance. It begged the question . . . No, two questions. Where had he got it from? Suzy had banned all gadgets from the house and Cassie wouldn't put it past her to have done spot checks. And if Henry was getting emails out from the boat, why wasn't he sending any to
her
?

Her phone buzzed in her shorts pocket and she took it out, amazed to see that she had four bars of mobile signal – the advantages of stopping on a hill – and a new text message. From Brett. Instantly, her heart dropped to her feet.

‘Hi, Cass. Have u heard from Kelly? She went to the Hamptons while I was out of town but was supposed to get back today and is not answering her cell. Prob nothing but unlike her 2 b uncontactable like this. Am trying everyone. Call me if u know anything? Thanks, Brett.'

Call him if she knew anything? Of course she knew something. She knew everything; way more than he did! Was this it then? Had it happened? She felt her pulse quicken, the first shoots of panic beginning to spur through her. She tried to think rationally. She couldn't call him first. No way. Not yet. Kelly's disappearance may not be down to the miscarriage – it could be something far more innocent, completely innocuous – and Kelly would never forgive her if she spilled this secret on a false alarm. No. She had to get hold of her first. Kelly – if she'd tried to get hold of Cassie – would have probably called her on her BlackBerry. Kelly was always in ‘work' mode and assumed everyone else was too. Plus it got better signal.

When had Brett sent this? she wondered desperately as she began pedalling away from Trebetherick's green-trimmed village store, rising out of the seat to get past the small hill before the lane swooped away, downhill almost all the way back to Butterbox. Her mind was on speed as her hair flew out behind her. It was almost eleven o'clock here, meaning it was only 6 a.m. there – possibly he'd been up all night trying to find his wife, in which case it didn't look good for her ‘innocent' theory; their very worst fears were being realized and the worst was happening. But she couldn't be sure. She had no signal at all in the house; if he'd sent this last night, it was highly conceivable the message only got through now that she was in range of a phone mast. Kelly could be back home already.

Oh God, but what if the worst
was
happening? Her mind wouldn't let it go. Today was 10 July; that meant Kelly was officially nine weeks gone now. Cassie bit her lip, feeling ashamed. She had been here for nearly a week and hadn't called Kelly once. Yes, Suzy's ban on gadgets and zero broadband at the house had meant Skype was an impossibility, but she couldn't blame it all on that. The truth was that the distraction of dealing with Luke again meant her promise to buy lemons and connect daily had gone out of her mind. She was a terrible person, an awful friend, a rubbish girlfriend . . .

She was back at the house in minutes, tearing up the long drive past Snapdragons – both cars were in the drive – and throwing the bike on the ground as she fumbled for her keys in her pocket and struggled with the door.

‘That you, Cass?' Suzy called through from the kitchen,
The Archers
playing on the radio.

‘Won't be a minute!' Cassie called back, sprinting up the stairs two at a time and grabbing her BlackBerry, which she had left charging by the bed.

No messages from Kelly there either. Dammit.

She clicked on FaceTime on her phone and found Kelly in her contacts. ‘U there?' she wrote into the blue bubble, but the signal was typically weak and she ran to the windows with it. No luck. She opened the doors onto the balcony and stepped out, leaning over the railings, her arm held aloft.

Two bars. Damn. Should she go back to the store?

She held it there for longer.

She checked the screen again. No reply.

‘Talk to me, Kelly,' she typed in a new bubble. ‘Has it happened?? Let me help.'

She held the phone up once more, her heart clattering like a tin soldier in her ribs.

‘What
are
you doing?' a bemused voice below asked. ‘Have you made contact with life forms in deep space?'

Cassie looked down to find Suzy standing on the terrace, a jug in one hand and a glass in the other.

‘Just trying to get a signal,' Cassie said weakly. When Kelly had told her not to tell anyone, she hadn't really meant Suzy too, had she? Cassie had never kept a secret from Suzy in her life. Not successfully, anyway.

‘Nup. Never gonna happen.' Suzy's blonde hair swung sympathetically, gleaming as it caught the sun. ‘Fancy some home-made lemonade?'

Cassie shook her head. ‘Maybe later.'

Suzy pursed her lips, looking up at Cassie quizzically, before she headed back inside.

Cassie turned a circle on the spot, one hand clutching her hair. What could she do? What could she do from here? What could she do from here with no laptop and practically no Wi-Fi?

She stared out into the distance, for once not seeing the view. She did, however, see the figure walking up through the fields, surfboard under one arm and wetsuit rolled down, the man who spent half his life on tropical islands with supermodels and still always got a signal.

She caught up with him by the side gate.

‘Hey!' she panted, jumping out from behind one of the hedgerows and alarming Luke so much he almost dropped the board on his toes.

‘Jeez, Cass! You scared the shit out of me.'

‘Sorry, sorry,' she said, holding her hands up apologetically.

He took one look at her flushed cheeks and wild eyes. ‘What's wrong?'