I had spent most of the dessert course chatting to Miriam and Greg, whilst eavesdropping every now and then on Jon’s rather serious discussion with Abs regarding education. I turned to him now, as I added my debit card to the pile forming in front of Pete.
‘So,’ I asked, ‘what’s your weekend?’
He ran a hand part-way through his hair.
‘Ah,’ I said, gesturing at his hand resting on top of his head, ‘still thinking about it, I see.’
He laughed, lowering his hand. ‘Yes, I am – or rather, we are,’ he corrected, looking towards Suzanna. She was laughing with Romy, together forming a tableau which put me in mind of an advert for posh coffee.
‘That reminds me,’ I said in a whisper, with a nod of my head towards Romy, ‘you haven’t told me your gossip.’
‘True,’ he said. ‘But how about I call you with all the details, rather than trying to hiss them at you now? Or perhaps we could discuss it over a drink next week.’
I laughed. ‘You’re really bigging this up, you know. It had better be good.’
He said nothing but instead turned to look again at Romy and Suzanna.
‘They seem to be getting on well, don’t they?’ I said.
He smiled and nodded. ‘I think they might actually be quite similar, you know.’
‘Both very beautiful, certainly,’ I agreed, ‘and I don’t know Suzanna very well but if her personality is anything like Romy’s, then you’re extremely lucky.’
I felt a hand on my right shoulder and then a wet kiss was planted on my cheek. ‘I heard that,’ said Miriam. ‘You are so very lovely and my very, very best friend.’
I wiped my cheek. ‘And you,’ I said, ‘are very dribbly.’
She giggled. ‘I’ve just put on some lip balm.’
‘Marvellous.’
‘But they are boofitul, aren’t they?’ Miriam directed her gaze towards Romy and Suzanna. ‘Ooh!’ She put her hand to her mouth and giggled again. ‘Listen to me! Boofitul! I’ve had so much to drink! I meant beau…ti…ful,’ she concluded, enunciating the word syllable by syllable and causing Jon to laugh.
‘And you’re beautiful too, Jon,’ she sighed, beaming up at him and then nudging me. ‘You think so too, don’t you, Alice? You’re always saying how handsome he is.’
I looked at Jon. He raised an eyebrow and smiled. I was horrified to find myself beginning to blush.
Miriam rested her head sleepily on my shoulder and I gratefully turned my face towards her and away from Jon.
‘Yes, Jon,’ I said, prodding Miriam, aware that her breathing was slowing and beginning to sound an awful lot like snoring, ‘I think you’re very handsome.’
Miriam jolted upright, before shifting her chair and repositioning herself to lean against an uncomplaining Greg.
‘Look at that,’ I muttered, pointing at a patch of drool on the shoulder of my new dress.
‘Never mind,’ said Jon. ‘You’re still beau…ti…ful.’
I smiled and dabbed at the drool patch with my napkin. ‘Thanks for no…ti…cing.’
‘It’s hard to miss.’
I turned towards him, with the intention of delivering a flippant response but, in the end, I decided to allow myself the pleasure of accepting his comment as a compliment.
‘Thank you,’ I said simply.
‘You’re welcome,’ he replied, before standing up suddenly and pushing back his chair. ‘Now, I’d better go and talk to Suzie about how she wants to get home.’
‘Oh, right,’ I nodded, slightly taken aback by the abruptness of his decision to leave. ‘A nice night for a walk, maybe?’
‘Maybe,’ he said, bending down to kiss me on the cheek. ‘How about you?’
‘We’re sharing a taxi.’ I gestured towards Miriam, still semi-conscious against Greg. ‘I think a walk is out of the question for us.’
I laughed. ‘Are you not leaving after all, Mr Indecisive?’
‘I was just about to ask the same thing.’ I turned my head to find Suzanna standing behind me. She smiled, walked towards Jon and placed a hand on his shoulder.
He looked at me for a moment, before standing up again and turning towards her. ‘I thought you were chatting to Romy,’ he said.
‘I was.’ She looked up at him, still smiling. ‘But I’ve finished now. And how about you?’ she asked gently. ‘Have you finished the conversation with Alice?’
He smiled at her but said nothing.
She sighed and then turned to me. ‘Bye then, Alice,’ she said. I thought she looked rather emotional and wondered how much she had had to drink. ‘It’s so lovely to have met you.’
I stood up and gave her a hug. ‘I’ll be seeing you next weekend for dinner, don’t forget.’
She kissed my cheek and we separated. ‘Right,’ she said, taking a deep breath and turning to Jon, ‘I think I’m ready to exit.’
He nodded and, after a general goodbye and wave to the room, he took her hand and accompanied her down the stairs.
Chapter 42
‘Don’t you dare dribble on me again,’ I said to Miriam as I climbed into the taxi.
‘I’ll go in there on my own, if you want me too,’ she said petulantly, gesturing towards the boot.
I shrugged. ‘Could be quite cosy with a blanket.’
‘I won’t dribble, I promise.’ She grinned and slid across the back seat towards me. Romy climbed in after her, while Hugh opened the front passenger door and took his seat next to the driver.
‘What a perfectly lovely evening,’ said Romy. ‘I thoroughly enjoyed that.’
‘Who did you sit next to?’ I asked.
‘Well,’ she furrowed her brow in thought, ‘I ended the evening between Suzanna and Pete. Before that I was between David and Miriam and I started the evening between Jon and,’ she leaned forward and touched Hugh’s arm, as he finished giving the driver instructions, ‘of course, Hugh.’
He turned and offered her a smile which once again made me think how very attractive he would be if only he never actually spoke.
‘Indeed,’ he said. ‘I very much enjoyed our conversation, Romy.’
‘You kept me in absolute stitches, Hugh,’ she laughed.
‘Did he?’ I asked.
‘Did I?’ echoed Hugh. He looked as doubtful of his comedic talent as I was, but was also clearly delighted. ‘That’s good to hear,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘And so interesting.’ She turned to me excitedly. ‘Hugh’s description of how to peel the skin away from the skull was riveting.’
I shuddered involuntarily.
‘Is everyone in the back buckled in, please?’ asked the driver. And upon being answered by yes’s from Romy and I, and one light snore from Miriam, he pulled away.
* * *
We arrived at my flat in just under ten minutes. By this time, Miriam was fast asleep and not only snoring loudly but also occasionally talking in her sleep. Her mumblings related largely to the food she had eaten that evening, with the odd reference to Craig’s stupidity thrown in for good measure. Having each shared a home with her, neither Romy nor I were surprised by this behaviour but Hugh found it highly entertaining, and his amusement was contagious. Consequently, we were distracted and laughing loudly as I slid open the car door and began to bid them all goodnight.
None of us spotted the woman waiting at the top of the steps which led down to my flat, until she actually spoke.
‘Alice Waites?’ she said, advancing slowly towards me.
I started at the sound of her voice and all laughter inside the car immediately ceased. She stopped just a few feet from me, her features thrown unflatteringly into relief by the internal light of the car. She had dark brown, almost black, hair and was, I guessed, about my age. She was slim, bordering on thin, several inches shorter than myself and, in normal light, and different circumstances, I suspected she might have been attractive. However, her hair hung ragged onto h
er shoulders, escaping from what I could see had, at some point that day, been a business-like up-do, and her sharp cheekbones were stained with streaks of mascara. As she addressed me, she appeared perfectly calm. However, this air of serenity, juxtaposed with clear evidence of prolonged crying, served only to unnerve me further.
I was aware of the passenger door opening and of Hugh climbing out. ‘Can we help you?’ he asked her.
She didn’t appear to hear him and stared unblinkingly at me. ‘Alice Waites?’ she repeated.
I nodded. ‘Yes, I’m Alice,’ I said. ‘Is there a problem?’
‘I’m Catherine.’ She forced her mouth into a smile which didn’t quite make it to her eyes. It had the same effect on me as Romy’s reference to face-peeling. ‘And yes, there is a problem,’ she said, her smile widening to deranged proportions, ‘because I’m Stephen’s fiancée.’
And, with that, she covered her face with her hands and began to wail.
Chapter 43
Catherine came into the flat – and so did everyone else – the taxi having been sent away. Hugh had been adamant that he wouldn’t leave me alone with her, and Romy and Miriam, when the latter woke up, also refused to leave. And so it was, as midnight approached, that the five of us sat in my living room drinking or, in the case of Catherine and myself, staring at mugs of tea prepared and distributed by Romy.
‘I had guessed you didn’t know,’ said Catherine suddenly, looking up at me, her voice still wobbling from the latest bout of hysteria, in what I suspected had been a long day of crying.
I looked across at her from where I sat next to Romy on the sofa, but didn’t speak.
‘Clearly,’ said Romy, ‘this is a dreadful situation for both yourself and Alice, Catherine. But I wonder whether there’s anything to be gained from talking about it at this time of night. Alice is very tired and you’re clearly very…’ she hesitated, ‘upset.’
Catherine turned her head, transferring her attention unblinkingly from myself to Romy.
‘Is there someone,’ Romy continued, smiling kindly, ‘a relative or friend, nearby we can call for you? How did you get here?’
‘I drove,’ said Catherine. ‘I don’t know anyone here.’
‘Well, you can’t drive home,’ said Romy. ‘So we can either pop you to a hotel…’ She hesitated again as Catherine continued to stare at her, ‘…or we could call Craig and tell him to make up the spare room.’ She turned to Miriam. ‘What do you think, Mim?’
Miriam nodded slowly. ‘We can’t dump her at a hotel,’ she said in a tipsy and, unfortunately, perfectly audible stage whisper. ‘She’s completely unhinged.’ She pointed to the side of her head and made a circling motion with her index finger.
I looked with disinterest at Catherine. She was still focused on Romy and appeared not to have heard. I wondered if she even knew where she was.
‘I’ll call a taxi,’ said Hugh, standing up and heading out into the hallway.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Catherine quietly.
Nobody spoke. Two people drank their tea.
It was Miriam who broke the silence. ‘Are you OK, Alice?’ she asked, punctuating the gentle enquiry with a hiccough. ‘I’ll stay with you and look after you. I don’t want you to be on your own,’ she said, her lower lip wobbling and her eyes now brimming. ‘I’ll take care of you.’
‘I can stay, Mim,’ said Romy gently. ‘You need to help Hugh in the taxi and then help Craig sort things out at home.’ She glanced at Catherine and then at me. ‘Shall I stay, Alice?’
I stared into my mug of tea and Miriam answered for me. ‘Yes, Romy, you stay.’
‘Taxi will be five minutes,’ said Hugh, re-entering the room and placing a roll of toilet paper next to Catherine.
Romy smiled up at him, as he sat back down in the armchair.
‘How did you find me?’ I looked at Catherine.
‘I saw lots of long calls to one number on his bill.’ She lowered her eyes and gazed at the carpet, her voice barely above a whisper. ‘He’d been… different. I called the number.’ She paused and looked up at me. ‘I called you. Then I Googled the number and found your company website.’ Her face suddenly crumpled and she began to cry again. ‘I’ve never done anything like this before,’ she said. ‘You must all think I’m some crazed stalker.’
‘That’s right,’ said Miriam, as if to herself, whilst nodding solemnly in supportive agreement. Romy extended a hand, placed it gently on her arm and shook her head.
‘I thought he was here,’ sobbed Catherine, still apparently oblivious to everything except herself and me. ‘He said he was in France.’
‘He is in France,’ I said.
‘He’s just told me so many lies,’ she said.
‘Does he know you’re here?’ I asked.
She shook her head and dabbed her eyes with a piece of toilet paper, torn from the roll. ‘But I left him a message saying I knew all about you.’
I got up and fetched my bag from the hallway. Returning to the living room, I took out my phone. Three texts and two missed phone calls. I put the phone back into my bag and leaned back on the sofa.
‘Has he called?’ she asked.
I nodded.
‘Right, Catherine,’ said Hugh, ‘let’s get you to Miriam’s house. We can wait for the taxi outside and if you give me your phone, Miriam, I can call Craig in order that he may prepare himself.’ He stood up, an action which everyone, with the exception of myself, copied.
There followed a flurry of departure, during which I was hugged and kissed and Hugh did a final, thoughtful check of the living room and hallway, in case anyone had left any personal belongings or items of outerwear. And then, very suddenly it seemed, the flat was empty, save for Romy and myself.
She came and sat next to me. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ she asked after a moment.
I shook my head. ‘Not tonight.’
‘OK,’ she said. ‘I’m just so sorry, Alice.’
I looked at her. ‘Unless she’s a lunatic, there’s only one person who should be sorry.’ My bag, lying in my lap, began to vibrate. ‘And I suspect that’s him calling right now,’ I said, reaching down to extract my phone. I looked at the screen. ‘Yes, it’s him.’
‘Do you want to take the call?’ asked Romy.
I nodded and pressed accept. She squeezed my free hand and then left the living room, closing the door behind her.
I put the phone to my ear. Stephen was already talking, enquiring after my evening.
‘I’ve just met Catherine,’ I interrupted.
There was a lengthy silence before he spoke. ‘I can explain.’
‘She claims to be your fiancée,’
‘Let me explain to you what I—’
‘Is she your fiancée, Stephen?’ I asked.
‘My relationship with her is over,’ he said.
‘Does she know that?’
‘We haven’t yet had that conversation. But—’
‘So, she’s currently your fiancée then.’
‘I can explain everything.’
‘Explain it tomorrow,’ I said. And with that, I ended the call, put my phone back in my bag and went to fetch some towels and a pair of pyjamas for Romy.
Chapter 44
I woke the next morning at nine, to find Romy already up and dressed and breakfast laid in the kitchen. She stayed just long enough to assure herself that I was of sound mind and to run through with me my plans for the day. Miriam had called her an hour earlier, telling her that Catherine had already headed back to Solihull and insisting that Romy bring me home with her. But I declined the offer, assuring Romy that I would certainly call Miriam, and may even pop round later, but that I first needed to talk to both Stephen and Catherine. Romy accepted this without argument and, after helping me to clear away the breakfast things, she left me alone to shower, dress and, for the first time since Catherine’s dramatic arrival, to think.
At ten o’clock, I went outside into the sunshine of the garden, c
arrying a mug of coffee and my phone. Sitting down at my small patio table, I tried to organise my thoughts and excavate some feelings; for at that moment, I felt nothing. The numbness which had descended the previous evening had not yet lifted, and whilst the basic facts were not pleasant: Stephen had betrayed his partner with me – I was his bit on the side – I felt no anger, no bitterness, no sadness. All I could drum up was a feeling of extreme weariness and a contorted, but undeniable, sense of déjà vu. Perhaps, I thought, this was my lot in life; forever destined to be either single, or unwittingly part of a threesome.
I picked up the coffee and sighed. Today, I knew, was going to be one of difficult conversations. Apart from the two most obvious calls, I would also have to think of something reassuring to say to Miriam – and sooner rather than later, not least to stop her picking up the phone to Dad. And I would, of course, have to talk to him too, because I knew that if he thought I had hidden anything from him, it would cause him far more upset than if I simply told him the truth from the outset.
But first, however distasteful and potentially distressing the prospect, I had to discuss the events of last night with my fellow protagonists. I couldn’t imagine that either of them would have anything to say which might change my bit-on-the-side perspective but, nevertheless, it had to be done. I put down my coffee, picked up my phone and after a moment’s hesitation upon seeing half a dozen missed calls from Stephen, I dialled Catherine’s number, with which I had been supplied by Miriam, via Romy.
* * *
My conversation with Catherine took just ten minutes, with her sobbing throughout and me maintaining my involuntary, ice-maiden cool. She and Stephen, she told me, had been together for two years and engaged for six months. They had shared a home, her home, for just over a year because he had actually sold his flat some time ago. She had been told that the move to Bristol was a temporary one of three to four months, but on Friday evening she had found a bundle of estate agent brochures and scribbled viewing times in a clothes drawer, which made it clear that he was looking to buy. And whilst she had no actual proof that he was having an affair, there had been a suspicious number of late meetings and, of course, all those calls to my number. The brochures, coupled with his refusal to answer her calls, had pushed her over the edge and she had climbed into her car and driven to Bristol.