Nearest Thing to Crazy (16 page)

‘Laura said you often meet. You never mentioned it.’

‘I’m sure I did.’

‘You didn’t.’

‘Oh God, we’re not going to have a row about this, are we?’

‘No. Of course not.’ More than anything I wanted to walk into
Ellie’s house with Dan at my side and on my side. ‘Let’s just forget it
. . . talk about it later . . . try and have a nice evening, shall we?’

‘That’s what I always want. But you’re . . .’

‘What?’

‘I don’t know, Cass. Just odd at the moment.’

‘Dan . . . don’t . . .’ We’d arrived. I opened the door and then slammed the beautifully crafted bit of
Vorsprung durch Technik
just hard enough to make Dan wince. There was nothing I could do for now. It was like I’d been cowering nervously in the wings and someone had just shoved me onto the stage. I squared my shoulders and took some deep breaths to try and feel calmer. Ellie had placed a row of clear glass tea lights along the top of the low brick wall which lined the edge of the path and pinned a string of illuminated stars around the top of the front door. Flanking the front door on either side were two huge terracotta pots, each stuffed with a six-foot-tall standard bay tree, their lollipop tops covered in a galaxy of teeny twinkly lights.

‘Oh doesn’t it all look pretty,’ I said. My voice sounded reedy, stretched tight with tension.

I was glad that I hadn’t brought her a bunch of my beautiful roses. Some of them were just at the perfect point for picking, fully open but not quite overblown. I could have chosen the most beautiful bouquet for her which would have looked wonderful on her desk, beside her computer. But instead I had opted for a jar of my famously hot lime pickle which I had dolled up with a lime green and white gingham lid cover. I pushed through the door and Dan followed close behind. Coco seemed especially pleased to see me. I tried to surreptitiously shake her off my new white Joseph jeans.

‘Bugger off,’ I hissed under my breath. Dan looked at me and frowned, unsure if he’d heard correctly, and I smiled as I bent forward and patted her. ‘Good girl, Coco.’

The sitting room was empty but as we walked towards the kitchen I could see figures framed beyond the doorway to the terrace. I followed Dan through into the garden. Ellie saw Dan first and I watched her face break into a big smile of welcome, and I watched its radiance diminish as she turned to me, but I could have just imagined that. She curled her arm around his waist and left it there a moment longer than I thought necessary. She was wearing a pair of faded jeans with designer rips below her front pockets and across her knees, together with a sloppy white cotton jumper and those same Converse trainers. I swept my eyes around the other women guests and noticed that everyone was dressed in jeans and cosy jumpers and assorted flat shoes that didn’t – unlike my three-inch heels – sink into the soft turf. Over to one side where Nick Gale and Patrick Priestley were head to head, I could see the smoke rise from a barbecue. As a table was also fully laid it was clear what form supper would take and I wondered if I’d be desperate enough to beg Ellie for something warm to wear later on.

‘Now, let me get your drinks sorted. I’ve asked William to do the honours. I find the art of delegation is essential when one is entertaining single-handedly. Wait ’til you see what I’ve got planned for you, Dan. William!’

‘Yes, my darling.’ William detached himself from Sally and hurried over, obediently. ‘Hello, Cass . . . Dan . . . Champagne?’ My, my, I thought to myself, how quickly she’d found a niche for herself with our friends. William scurried off to get our drinks, leaving the three of us alone together.

‘I see you’ve been shopping for pots,’ I said. There were six of them arranged around her terrace, not quite placed as I would have placed them, and not quite filled with what I would have chosen. It was as close to a slap in the face as she could have given me without leaving a visible mark.

‘Yes, thanks to your advice. Amelia knew of this place near Cheltenham and so we had a lovely day out together. Amelia’s got such a good eye, hasn’t she? She advised me on what to put in them.’

I thanked William as he handed me a glass of champagne. ‘Dan thought you’d be far too busy so I couldn’t have imposed on you.’

‘Did you, Dan? That was very thoughtful of you,’ I said.
‘Amelia’s done a much better job than I would have done, I’m sure.’ I wondered, briefly, why Dan would have told her I was far too busy to help, bearing in mind he seemed so keen for us to be friends.

‘Now, will you excuse me for a sec? I need to pass some canapés around.’

‘I’ll give you a hand,’ Dan said.

‘Would you? Thanks. They’re in the kitchen. Follow me.’ I stood for a moment, feeling alone and isolated, and yet here I was amongst my closest friends. Everyone was chatting, laughing, relaxing, having a happy time together without a care in the world, and then there was me. It was all so subtle, almost subliminal. Were it not for the shiny Apple computer that I could picture sitting on her pristine desk, just yards away from where I stood, I could almost have believed that I’d dreamt it all. I gulped at the champagne and listened to the lively voices of my friends: ‘. . . we had such a lovely day . . .’ ‘Ellie showed me what she’s done upstairs . . . I just love the colour . . .’ ‘. . . yes, a little wine bar in Montpellier . . .’ ‘. . . she’s made William promise to take me to this play . . .’ ‘. . . I’m so pleased she’s come to the village
. . .’ And then Dan’s voice, ‘Cass! You look miles away . . . are you okay?’

He was standing in front of me, brandishing a large plate covered in canapés: smoked salmon moussey things decorated with quails’ eggs and salmon caviar; asparagus with
prosciutto
, although we were well past the asparagus season;
foie gras
on little circles of toasted
brioche
and topped with a dollop of chilli jelly. I looked at him and shook my head, ‘No thanks.’

‘You must. It’ll soak up the alcohol,’ he ordered.

I took one nearest to me and plopped it into my mouth. The chilli jelly fizzled onto the roof of my mouth, and was obviously a perfect balance for the silky rich pâté. Even though it was my first food of the day it felt like damp cardboard on my tongue. I struggled to chew on it and muttered a ‘thank you’ in Dan’s direction. He moved off towards Nick Gale and so I made my way to Sally, Amelia and Jules. The dusk was closing in and I was just beginning to feel the chill nipping through my thin top. I couldn’t stop myself from shivering. ‘Cass!’ Sally sidestepped to allow me into the group. ‘Darling, how are you? Look at you, you look lovely. New top? And your hair, very glamorous.’

I shrugged and grinned. ‘I see you lot all got the dress code right!’

‘You put us all to shame . . .’

‘Thanks. But if I’d known we were going to be outside I might have ditched the heels and worn something appropriate,’ I laughed.

‘Didn’t Ellie say?’

‘No. But she obviously told you.’

‘And me,’ Amelia added.

‘Me too,’ Jules said.

‘Well she must have forgotten about
me
. Now there’s a surprise . .
.’

‘Of course she wouldn’t have forgotten about you. Probably that signal on your mobile.’

‘God, don’t you start, Amelia. You sound like Dan. I do check my messages – halfway up the stairs there’s a hotspot and down by the chicken shed. There wasn’t a message from her. Anyway the pots look lovely. Did you go to Foresters? I hope they gave you a good deal.’

‘Do you know, I told Ellie that she’d be much better off going with you, but she was so thoughtful, not wanting to impose on you. Are you okay now?’

‘I’m fine. I don’t know why everyone seems to think there’s something wrong with me.’

Amelia looked embarrassed. ‘You mustn’t think we’ve been gossiping about you, just concerned.’

‘Well that’s really sweet of you, but I really don’t know why.’

‘Well, there’s your mother . . .’ Sally said.

‘And your business,’ Amelia said.

‘And Dan being so stressed,’ Jules added.

‘I honestly don’t know what you’re on about,’ I said. ‘Jules, did
Dan say something?’

Jules raised her index finger to her mouth and glanced over in the direction of the men. She nodded and said
sotto voce
, ‘I think he talked to Nick. Sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.’

I shook my head. ‘Not at all. But Dan’s usually so closed.’

‘Let’s not talk about it now. I’d hate them to hear us gossiping about them.’

‘I honestly think they believe they’re all we
ever
talk about,’ Sally said.

Ellie joined us. ‘What are you girls discussing so conspiratorially?’

‘Just our men,’ I said. ‘And what about you, Ellie, how’s your love life?’ The champagne was fuelling my courage perfectly.

‘Cass!’ Amelia shot me one of her disapproving looks.

‘What?’

‘You can’t just come right out with questions like that.’

‘Can’t I?’

‘Of course you can,’ Ellie said, giving me one of her best smiles.
‘My love life’s dead. Stone dead. Just the way I like it when I’m writing. I need to put all my passion into my book.’

‘Is it a bit like being a method actor, you know, becoming the character, inhabiting them, letting them take you over until you turn into them?’

‘Yes, I suppose . . . When I’m spending hours and hours inside someone else’s head then I’m bound to become inhabited by them.’

‘But isn’t that the wrong way round? I’m confused, because as you’ve invented the characters, you’re not inside someone else’s head, are you? You’re inside your own head, inhabiting yourself, in actual fact.’

‘You’re assuming that my characters are me?’

‘How can they be anyone else? Or perhaps you’re using other people to base your characters on, other
real
people.’

She raised her glass to her lips and stared unblinkingly at me for a moment longer than should have felt comfortable. I returned her gaze just as steadily and in that brief moment I felt that it was the first time she was revealing to me who and what she really was, and perhaps acknowledging that she knew who and what I was. Just as I waited for her answer, William appeared with the bottle, pushing it between us, brandishing it at Ellie’s glass, and then at mine. ‘Can’t be doing with empty glasses – especially not our hostess’s.’ I held my glass out until he’d filled it to the brim, and then I drained a third of it, straight down.

‘How’s Patrick getting on with the food? I think it’s probably time to eat. Dan,’ she called over her shoulder. ‘Can you come and give me a hand with the plates in the kitchen . . .’

I tried to move, but my heels were stuck in the soft turf. I pulled my right leg free but in doing so I overbalanced and my right heel got caught once more so that I was trapped with my feet pointing at awkward angles to each other. ‘Oh God, Sally,’ I grabbed at her arm and then my champagne spilled over Jules Gale’s sleeve as she moved past me. ‘God, Jules . . . sorry.’ Sally grabbed me under the elbow but my legs buckled and I ended up landing on the grass with a thud. ‘Oh God . . . how stupid . . .’ I huffed as I tried to struggle back to my feet. Sally took one side and William the other. ‘Come on, old girl, let’s get you upright.’

‘Thanks, William . . . Sally. Those bloody stupid heels.’ I shoved my feet out of them, picked them up and stood barefoot with three inches of white Joseph trouser leg bottom getting muddy and damp in the dew. There was a big green and brown patch over my bottom and I saw Dan standing in the doorway, holding a pile of plates, watching me with an expression which I can only describe as utter scorn on his face. Amelia put her head close to mine. ‘Cass, I think you’d better slow down – that was maybe a little over the top back there . . . with Ellie.’

‘What?’

‘Darling, you were a little strident, I thought. Probably the champagne talking.’

‘Sorry. God, I wasn’t, was I? That’s what comes of not eating all day. Sorry, Sally, I wouldn’t want to upset the lovely Ellie.’ Sally gave me what you might call an old fashioned look and, not for the first time, I marvelled at how successfully Ellie seemed to be fitting into our lives.

I don’t know how I got through the rest of supper. I remember shivering more and more as the night drew in. I neither asked for a jumper, nor did she offer one. I remember letting everyone else talk, disengaging but giving the appearance of listening. I think I did okay. Every so often I would dig my fingernails into my palms, to transfer the pain, to remind myself that it was real, that what I had seen on her computer was real. Looking around this jolly little gathering, with my friends smiling and chatting, relaxed and happy on a Saturday night I wanted to know: why me? Why had she chosen to fuck up our lives? Why not William? He was very rich, and charming. And why not Patrick? Patrick might well have been game. Not that I was wishing problems onto my girlfriends. I just wanted to understand why she had chosen us. Maybe we were the ones who were putting out the
‘we’re in trouble’ vibes; maybe Dan had ‘available’ subliminally stamped over him. I wondered what would happen if I stood up and said: ‘I’ve got an announcement to make: Oh, by the way, everyone. This lovely girl you’re all falling over yourselves to welcome into our little community, well guess what . . .’ Or perhaps I could suggest that she read us the opening chapters of her new novel. It was all just totally surreal. Our lives were becoming a novel, and how could I possibly tell where real life ended and fiction began?

At last it was time to say our goodbyes and thank yous. I couldn’t bring myself to kiss her, but I had to stand aside and watch while she gave Dan a big, warm hug. Then we walked through her sitting room, my eyes inevitably drawn to her shiny Apple computer sitting in the middle of her desk. Then Dan hovered by the front door, mumbling about leaving the car until the next day. ‘You can bring Laura to meet me,’ Ellie said. ‘Come for drinks before lunch if you like. I’ll see you on Monday, Cass.’

‘Monday?’

‘The meeting for the village hall quiz. Amelia asked me to be on the committee, so I’ll see you at Amelia’s. In fact, why don’t you call for me at ten and I’ll drive you.’