Too Close For Comfort (15 page)

I tore my eyes away from an ice-blonde 1940s bride in a satin gown, and inched my way down the wide corridor, my feet sinking into the soft taupe carpet. I knew I mustn’t blunder into a
sleeping child’s bedroom: I turned the handle on the first door as lightly as I could. Success – it was a predictably chic bathroom, dominated by a rainforest shower and a large
mirrored medicine cabinet that ran down the length of the wall. I sat on the loo, taking it in. It wasn’t her personal bathroom, I was sure of that. In that case, I thought, once I’d
washed my hands, it wouldn’t be so bad to sneak a peek inside the gleaming mirrored doors. I swung them open, lights springing on inside as I did so. There were bottles and bottles of pills
with Kimberley’s name typed onto them, all with the kind of medically correct drug names that I didn’t understand. Was she ill? It seemed like an extraordinary amount of medication.
There were others too, I noticed, squat brown bottles with two or three different names, and details for an American pharmacist on the label. I moved my attention down to the lower shelves, which
groaned with the kind of luxuriously packaged make-up and skin care where the wrapping’s worth twice as much as the sticky stuff contained within. I pulled out a heavy gold tube of lipstick,
swivelled the base, admired the deep crimson pigment that erupted out. That was when I heard the light tap on the door. I shoved the lipstick back in the cabinet, pushed the door closed as fast as
I could.

‘Hi,’ I called, ‘I’ll be right out.’

I flushed the loo for a second time, smoothed down my shirt, and hurried to open the door. There was Kimberley.

‘I was worried you’d got lost!’

‘It’s big enough!’ I said, trying not to gabble. ‘The downstairs loo was locked. You’ve got such a beautiful home.’

She shrugged prettily, making no move to leave the doorway. ‘It’s only bricks and mortar.’

That was when I heard the loud creak behind me. How mortifying: the cabinet door had swung back open – in my desire to keep quiet, I hadn’t shut it hard enough. Kimberley gave a slow
smile. Her green eyes, perfectly painted with a flicking line of black, narrowed with satisfaction.

‘Are you spying on me, Mia?’

What a schoolgirl idiot I was. ‘No, not at all. I just . . . I was looking for floss.’

‘No, you weren’t,’ she said. She was more cat-like than ever: I was a mouse and her paw was extending ever closer. ‘I’m just the same. I always want to know more
about people than they want to tell me.’

‘Do you?’ I said, desperate to put an end to this. She was still barring the exit.

‘Definitely. Other people are either heaven or hell in my experience.’ She suddenly slipped her way past me, her body pushing so close against mine that I could feel the soft pears
of her breasts. Her perfume was stronger than it had been when she’d been sitting next to me at dinner, almost as if she’d resprayed in preparation for our encounter. She crossed to the
gaping cabinet, reached inside.

‘You’re a natural beauty, we’ve established that, but how about a little bit of cheating?’ She pulled out that same vintage-y-looking gold tube. Was it obvious I’d
moved it? She stepped towards me. I reached out my hand, but she kept coming at me, brandishing the lipstick. ‘Indulge me.’

‘I’m OK . . .’ I said, but her hand was on my face now. My heart was thumping hard in my chest – I was desperate to shake her off me, but it felt too rude now she’d
caught me snooping.

‘Here,’ she said, face close to mine. ‘Just a little bit. It’ll brighten you up.’ Her long fingers wrapped around my neck, held my face steady. The lipstick pressed
down on my mouth like an unwanted kiss. I froze, willing it to be over. She smiled at her handiwork, our faces far too close for comfort. ‘Gorgeous,’ she said, her voice low.

I jerked backwards, turned towards the mirror. My eyes were wide, my face pale. I couldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing how disturbing this was.

‘It’s darker than I normally wear,’ I said, smoothing my hair behind my ears.

‘Darker’s good sometimes,’ she said. ‘At least for me.’

Her bright eyes met mine in the mirror. I was the first to look away.

‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry I barged my way up here. We should get back, shouldn’t we?’

‘I’m not,’ she said, pausing. ‘I’m not sorry at all. But, if you like.’ I took a step back towards the door, but somehow she’d anticipated me, was
blocking the space again. She stepped in close, her lips suddenly meeting mine with the same firm pressure the lipstick had had. I felt her warm tongue trying to part my lips, her perfume,
overpowering and sweet. ‘This is what you wanted, isn’t it?’ she breathed. ‘This is why you snuck your way upstairs and waited for me.’

Now I shoved her off me, pushing her bony shoulders back towards the cabinet. ‘What are you doing?’

Her sculpted features twisted into an expression of ugly rage.

‘The real question is, what are
you
doing?’ she hissed, stalking her way across the tiled floor and slamming out.

I sank back down onto the closed loo, my racing heart almost exploding out of my chest, my body quivering. All I wanted to do was get out of this soft-furnished prison, but at the moment, even
leaving the bathroom was too ambitious a task.

*

Ten minutes later I was carefully picking my way back down the wide staircase. I’d tell Lysette I felt ill, insist we left immediately – I just had to avoid
Kimberley ambushing me before I could get to her.

I approached the kitchen door. They were trying to whisper, but emotion was making their voices peak and spike. It was Alex I heard first.

‘It’s unsustainable,’ she said. ‘I can’t make that kind of promise.’

‘But it’s too late now,’ said Helena.

‘We can’t . . .’ said Lysette, her voice mangled by grief and alcohol. ‘We can’t do that to Sarah.’

Alex gave a superior-sounding snort. ‘Do you honestly think this is the best thing for her?’

Something clattered, then Kimberley’s voice cut across. She made no attempt to lower it.

‘You don’t mean it, Alex, so stop saying it. Every single one of us has too much to lose.’

Hearing her heels tip-tapping across the polished wood of the kitchen floor brought me to my senses: I couldn’t be discovered like this, lurking in a dark corner, eavesdropping. I gave it
a few seconds and then swung open the door, forced myself to smile. Kimberley looked at me as though I’d crawled out of a sewer, then swiftly adjusted her features. No one was looking at her
anyway, they were too busy trying to approximate a normal dinner party tableau.

‘There you are!’ said Lysette. She stood up, a little unsteady, advanced towards me. I forced myself not to flinch, my nervous system still on high alert. ‘Kimberley said you
were feeling a bit shit and sleeping it off.’

Helena gave me a tight smile, then poked at the fondant pudding in front of her, thick molten chocolate oozing out of its smashed walls. It looked like a miniature crime scene all of its own,
the dark liquid smearing the pristine white china.

‘Yeah, no, I don’t know if it’s something I ate.’ I looked at Kimberley. ‘No offence. Can we get a cab?’

Their collective gratitude at not having to continue the façade was palpable. Cabs were called, goodbyes were said. Kimberley crossed the kitchen to hug me, as if that icy look was a
figment of my imagination.

‘It was so lovely you could come,’ she said, her arms encircling me in a mumsy-feeling hug. I stood there, as stiff and straight as a pencil, then yanked my body away.

‘I need a wee,’ said an oblivious Lysette. ‘You get our coats, yeah?’

Lori was standing by the cavernous coat cupboard near the door. She’d already dealt with Alex, the tail lights of her cab now sweeping down the drive.

‘I get your stuff?’ she asked.

‘Thank you,’ I said. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth, her nerves still obvious. ‘It’s a trench,’ I said, immediately realising how unhelpful that was
– I was sure I wouldn’t know the Romanian for ‘trench coat’ even if I lived there for a hundred years. ‘I’ll help you look.’ As we rummaged our way through
the deep closet, I kept the conversation going. It was strangely comforting in there; a simple task to perform, the two of us lost in the woolly depths, hidden from Kimberley’s death stare or
my mounting fears. ‘How did you end up au pairing for Kimberley?’

‘Susan. You know.’

‘I’m not Susan. I’m Mia.’

‘No, Susan,’ she said, her words muffled. ‘She had to go. Because of what has been.’

‘She was the last au pair? She left?’

‘She had to go,’ she repeated, more emphatically. ‘I had to come very quickly. Extra money.’

I’d found my coat now. I stepped out, and so did she. Her face was flushed and tense.

‘Why did she have to go?’ I asked. ‘I don’t live here. I’m new too.’

‘She . . .’ Lori shrugged, the words stopping in her throat. ‘I am here now.’ We stood there for a second, caught by awkward silence. ‘Your coat is nice.’ I
wasn’t the only one who’d mastered bland conversation killers.

‘Thanks,’ I said. She wasn’t volunteering anything, but her eyes didn’t leave my face. It was almost as if she wanted me to keep asking. Just then, Lysette appeared.

‘Sorry. Downstairs loo was locked, so I had to use Kimberley’s.’

Why would it be locked when she had a kitchen full of people? Had she deliberately set me up to venture upstairs, or was the idea pure egotism on my part?

‘I have your coat,’ said Lori mechanically. She’d disappeared herself behind a mask of servitude.

‘Thanks,’ said Lysette, barely making eye contact with her as she shrugged it on.

It was odd – this imperious creature was the exact opposite of the girl I’d known more than half my life. Nothing felt right here. I pulled my trench tight around my body, stepped
out onto the gravel drive. The taxi was parked by the gates, hazards flashing. Our feet crunched as we walked back down the sweeping drive, no giggles to mask it now.

‘Are you OK?’ said Lysette, sounding more like her normal self. ‘Do you think it was that cream sauce?’

I couldn’t bear to pile lies on top of lies.

‘No, I’m not. It was a really weird evening . . .’

Lysette stuck out a hand, stopping me mid-sentence. We halted a few steps from the cab, silvery moonlight from an almost full orb dappling the driveway. Kimberley’s lights blazed out of
the tall windows, the house dwarfing us. I almost bundled Lysette into the cab, so desperate was I to speed away from there.

‘Look, we’re all just completely freaked out,’ she said, voice breaking up again. ‘I’m sorry if it was weird for you, but I can’t help that right
now.’

‘No, I know that,’ I said, my hand inching towards the door. I didn’t want to say it in the cab, but I didn’t want to carry this toxic parcel away with me either.
‘Kimberley – she came after me to the bathroom. She . . .’ I looked into Lysette’s eyes, faced again with the unsettling sense of not being able to read her. ‘She
tried to kiss me, Lys.’

It was relief I saw now, the sight of it like a body blow. Did she not care about my distress?

‘She would’ve just been being silly, Mia. She was pissed.’ What was worse than that? Did she think she’d have offered me – her prissy little bluestocking friend
– a line of coke? ‘She likes to be Queen of Sheba. She gets a bit carried away.’

‘It was horrible!’ I said, my voice rising.

Lysette swung open the cab door. ‘I’m not . . . I just know what she’s like.’ We rode in silence for a mile or so, before she spoke again. ‘I’m sorry if she
upset you.’

‘Yeah, well she did,’ I said. Who was this person who was impersonating my best friend? Did she really think that was normal hostess behaviour? I twisted round to look at her,
dropped my voice low. ‘What’s going on with all of you? You can talk to me, Lys, it’s me!’

‘It’s . . .’ I could sense her wavering, and I thought about telling her what I’d overheard, but I knew that the decision could go either way – listening at doors
is rarely appreciated, and our bond felt too compromised to take more strain. ‘It’s horrible at the moment, that’s all.’

‘Is there anything more I can do? I’m not here much longer, but . . .’ Her gaze was intense, words teetering on the edge of articulation. ‘Anything . . .’ I said,
willing her to break.

‘There is something,’ she said. ‘Can I borrow a bit of cash? Not much, say a couple of hundred quid? Just till the end of the month.’ I saw her register the shock on my
face. She wiggled a foot in my direction, smiled in a way that was almost coquettish: I’d forgotten how drunk she was, but now it was obvious. ‘Shoes like this don’t grow on shoe
trees.’

‘Lys, of course I want to help you, but . . . if you’ve got money problems, borrowing a bit of cash off me isn’t a solution.’

‘Fine, don’t worry,’ she said, stung. ‘I shouldn’t have asked.’

The silence between us felt sticky.

‘What’s it for?’ I said eventually.

‘Just credit cards. Comfort spending, you know. You probably don’t, actually. You’re so well behaved.’ I tried not to hear the echo of her rant at the funeral in the sly
compliment. ‘It’s not been great with me and Ged. I can’t cope with any more stress right now.’

I heard the crack in her voice when it came. I tumbled straight down it like Alice down a rabbit hole.

‘If you really, really need it . . .’

The smile that spread across her face was one of pure relief.

‘Thanks sooo much. I’ll get it straight back to you.’ She gave me a quick, unnecessary kiss on the cheek. ‘Promise.’

She was too relieved, too pleased. I knew in that second I should never have said yes.

I’d gone to Kimberley’s house secretly hoping for answers, but I came away with nothing but questions. The problem was, they were the kind of questions which came
with answers too dangerous to learn.

I think he likes the idea of me and Kimberley being friends. Friends in high places. Friends in low places on Friday, more like. I bitched about it
beforehand, but it was proper fun, no question.