Still Thinking of You (28 page)

45. A Lot to Digest

Dinner on Tuesday night was devoid of buoyant moods, flirtatious chat, hilarious anecdotes or giggly overindulgence in food and wine. Instead the atmosphere was drenched with deceit, despair and despondency. It wasn’t just that everyone was battling with now almost permanent hangovers. The gang of old friends, who had been sure they knew everything about one another and who had prided themselves on their intimate history, were now beginning to sense that there was a lot they didn’t know about one another. Furthermore, anything they had recently discovered was shocking, scandalous and serious.

If there had been a competition to see who was the most miserable, it would have been a close-run thing with a photo finish. Ted, Kate and Lloyd had skied all day, and yet had filled the hours with superficial chitchat about weather conditions. Rich agonized over his confession to Jason, and Jason agonized over the fact that he’d been taken for a complete fool by Jayne – plainly she had used him to try to make Rich jealous. And while Jayne knew that she had upset Tash and disturbed her almost Zen-like calm and confidence (she didn’t believe that headache story, not for an instant), she still agonized over what Rich would do next. Why hadn’t he had the big talk with Tash yet? It was overdue.

Rich had returned to the hotel only twenty minutes before dinner. He’d left it as late as he dared because he didn’t want to be alone with Tash. When he was, his conscience stung and fought miserably with his sense of self-preservation. The battle left him feeling like the bastard he was.

‘Where have you been?’ Tash had asked the moment he walked in the door. The tone of the question was a curious mix between relief at Rich’s return and anger and indignation that he had been away at all. She was sitting at the dressing-room table in her bra and knickers, applying her lipstick. Her hair was still wet and wrapped in a huge towel which was twisted turban-like up on top of her head. She wished he hadn’t caught her in this half-dressed state – she looked comical and not at all glamorous. He thought she looked beautiful.

‘I’ve had a great day on the slopes with Jase,’ Rich’d replied, kissing Tash briefly on the forehead. He’d wanted to kiss her lips. He longed to. He knew he’d feel safe there. But would she taste Jayne’s kiss? Would she somehow know?

Of course not. He wasn’t being logical. Her skin was almost translucent. He kissed her cheekbones, her nose. She closed her eyes, and he kissed her eyelids. He broke away. ‘Then we went to a bar.’

‘Which one?’

‘The one next door.’

Tash fumed, ‘You could have come to find me.’

‘Sorry, babe,’ called Rich. He was in the bathroom, towel-drying his hair, which was damp with snow fall. ‘Mia said you were ill, needed a lie-down. I didn’t want to disturb you. I know you hate people fussing around you when you’re feeling rough.’

It was true that Tash didn’t require much in terms of bedside manner when she was ill. She’d much rather hide under the duvet until the lurgy had subsided, then re-emerge. But today she wasn’t really ill, or at least not with anything infectious. She could have done with some company. But, then, Rich wasn’t a mind reader.

‘Mia was with you? I thought you said you boarded with Jase.’

‘I did. We bumped into Mia at about six-thirty. She’d been out with Jayne. It was Jayne that told her you were ill.’

‘Right,’ said Tash because she didn’t know what else to say.

In fact it wasn’t right. Nothing seemed in the least bit right. She wasn’t happy that Rich had left her alone all day. She wasn’t ecstatic with the conversation she’d had with Jayne. It had stirred up an ugly cocktail of emotions – jealousy, fear and distrust, to name but a few. And while she knew she was being irrational, she was also unhappy that Jayne had spent the afternoon with Mia. It seemed like a betrayal. Of course, it wasn’t. She was being silly. Jayne had every right to spend time with whomever she liked. And she hadn’t ever said she didn’t like Mia. Not in so many words. There was no real reason Jayne ought to dislike Mia. After all, it wasn’t
her
boyfriend Mia was trying to seduce.

Aaghhh. It was all too much.

She didn’t like the idea of Rich, Mia and Jase sat around a bar, drinking and laughing without her. About her?

No, that was ridiculous.

Tash had wanted to tell Rich all of this. She’d wanted him to sit down with her and allow her to offload a number of preposterous ideas that Jayne had slipped into her mind. Ideas which Tash could not shove out again. She was sure he would stroke her back and play with her hair. Kiss her lips and tell her everything was OK. Instead Tash sighed, saying, ‘You’d better get changed quickly. We’re booked for an eight o’clock dinner.’

Only Mia was feeling sparky.

The fertility test had shown a bright-green light today. She was slap bang in the middle of the most fruitful part of her cycle. That information, combined with the discovery of the relationship between Rich and Jayne – and Scaley Jase’s predictable response to the news (random shagging) – meant that her plan was back on track. Yes, it would have been ideal if Scaley had turned to her for consolation last night, rather than that time-wasting tart, but it wasn’t a major disappointment. Jayne had been genuine competition, but she couldn’t believe that the touring slappers would be.

It was novel that when she arrived at dinner she found that she was the most high-spirited.

‘My God, why the long faces?’ she asked, as she slipped into the seat next to Jason. No one replied. ‘Glad to see you’re feeling better, Big Ted,’ she smiled. Ted nodded politely. ‘Are you feeling rested, Barbie Babe? Jayne said you had a headache. Shame you missed out. We went boarding. Great fun, wasn’t it, Jayne?’ Jayne smiled and nodded. Mia’s fun would have been increased tenfold if Jayne had taken the opportunity to discuss the ‘Rich foyer kiss’, but both girls had discreetly avoided the subject. ‘Great snow, hey, you guys?’ The question was thrown out to include Kate, Lloyd, Rich and Jason. More nods and more silence. ‘What is it? Have you all worked out that you’ve already broken your New Year’s resolutions and it’s still January?’ joked Mia.

‘I hate New Year,’ said Kate, not answering the question.

‘I thought you loved New Year, Ms Monopoly,’ said Mia in surprise. ‘You always throw the best parties.’

‘I love it,’ said Jayne with a fake smile.

Jayne knew that she had to rouse herself. This was a crucial time. She knew that her self-appointed role in life was to be extremely enthusiastic about everything from cute puppies, to dangerous black runs, to New Year’s Eve. Men such as Rich didn’t want moaning Minnies. In truth, Jayne wasn’t fond of New Year’s Eve celebrations. She had spent too many on the edges of Kate and Ted’s parties, hoping that Rich would acknowledge her. He never had, and sometimes he’d even arrived at those parties with another woman. Some gawky, hopeless girl or other. On those occasions, Jayne always went home early and slept through the midnight hour. However, this was not the moment to share.

‘It’s all so pressurized. New Year’s Eve is the time when everyone asks, “What have you achieved this year? Have you scaled a mountain? Popped out a baby? Run the New York Marathon?” I hate it,’ said Kate. The group stared at her.

‘That can’t be a problem for you,’ said Jason. ‘You achieve so much every year. You do regularly pop out babies, or renovate new overseas homes, or buy new yachts. You always have good news. If accounting for your past year is a challenge, it’s one that you more than rise to.’

Kate felt ashamed. She shouldn’t have said anything. She should have just continued to pretend to love New Year. Just because these were her dearest friends, it didn’t give her licence to be so honest, not if her honest opinion had a dampening effect on the evening. What was she thinking of?

‘I so missed your champagne bash this year. It has become the most important feature on my calendar.’

‘I’m sorry,’ apologized Kate, blushing at the compliment that her parties were a success and the guilt of not throwing one this year, when it was expected of her. ‘It will be back next year, bigger and better. We didn’t bother this year because Ted was working on something massive in the office and we simply didn’t have time for all the prep. Isn’t that right, darling?’

Ted nodded, and turned pink to match his wife.

‘What were you working on, Big Ted?’ asked Mia, as she hungrily bit into a bread roll. She liked to show an interest in her friends’ careers, particularly cerebral, thriving careers. She hadn’t ever had the urge to find out exactly how Tash dressed windows.

‘A merger,’ replied Ted.

‘Oh, which one? Will I have read about it in the qualities?’

Ted buried his nose in the wine menu. ‘No, it’s all very hush-hush.’

‘That’s right, Mia. Ted wouldn’t even tell me the details,’ smiled Kate.

She adored the fact that her husband worked on top-secret projects. It made him appear very 007, even though he worked in the City and not for Her Majesty’s Service. In truth, Kate hadn’t questioned Ted too closely on the exact nature of the work that would mean they couldn’t throw their regular New Year’s Eve party. She’d meant to show the proper interest, but Christmas was such a busy time. The children all needed costumes for their various pantomimes, and there were endless parties to drop them off at and collect them from. Not to mention the extra cooking and the shopping. She hadn’t even said anything when in December it turned out that Ted managed to keep regular office hours and didn’t have to work into the early hours of the morning as he’d feared. She was just grateful to have him around.

Kate had been delighted to have a legitimate excuse to avoid throwing the 150-guest bash. She wouldn’t say so. It seemed rude when the gang were among the 150 guests she had to provide canapés and champagne for, but the parties were exhausting. There had been a time when she really enjoyed their New Year’s Eve parties; back in the mid 1990s when the guest list was limited to a more modest forty or so friends. In those days she had managed to talk to everyone, ask if they’d had an enjoyable Christmas. Last year, she hadn’t even recognized some of the guests.

‘You should have hired Sophie’s company,’ said Mia. ‘I’ve heard that her parties are a huge success. She did the Ephron–Eagleton wedding and the Beaumont–Parsons wedding, and I understand one of the Guinness cousins is thinking of using her for a wedding anniversary in the spring.’

Mia had never acknowledged Sophie’s career in the six years she had spent time with Sophie, but now Sophie was so eminently successful she wanted to make it clear that they were chums, still in touch, still on first-name terms. No matter if they weren’t. No matter if it was the last name on earth Lloyd wanted to hear at dinner.

‘I’m with Kate on this. For the past ten years, I’ve pretty much had the same resolution, which is to cut down drink,’ said Lloyd. ‘Sticking to my resolution makes January, an already dreary month, absolutely hellish.’

Lloyd reached for the bottle of wine and refilled his glass. No one had seen any evidence of abstemious behaviour. But, then, Lloyd had broken resolutions in common with the majority of the rest of the Western population.

‘Guys, guys, it is not that bad. New Year’s Eve is a great time to reminisce and also to look forward,’ said Mia forcefully. No response. She decided to ditch the small talk and change tack to a more tried and tested route. ‘My God, this is a wedding, not a wake. Get the champagne in, Big Ted, that’s what we need.’

‘No, no, I’ll get it,’ said Lloyd, jumping to his feet.

‘Sit down, man,’ instructed Mia. ‘The waiter actually gets it. All you have to do is give a room number.’

Lloyd dropped back into his chair feeling slightly foolish, but he felt better when he caught Ted’s eye and saw that Ted was smiling at him. His gesture was appreciated.

‘Do you know what these dinners put me in mind of?’ asked Mia. Again no one responded, but she ploughed on regardless and answered her own question. ‘Formal dinners in Hall back in our uni days. God, they were fun, weren’t they?’ Tash rolled her eyes to the ceiling. ‘We all had to get dressed up. The food wasn’t up to the des Dromonts standards, of course, but we were impressed at the time. It used to be such good sport watching the kids from the comprehensives worry about which fork to choose.’ Mia grinned so that no one took her bitchy comment seriously. Her ploy worked for everyone except Tash, the only one who had attended a comprehensive. Despite always knowing the ‘outside-to-in’ rule, she took the comment to heart. ‘It’s just the same, only with better hairstyles. Guess what I brought with me?’ continued Mia.

No one guessed.

Mia bent down and pulled from her Louis Vuitton handbag a fat, leather photo album.

‘My album of all our best photos from uni.’

This wasn’t a spontaneous move on Mia’s part. Indeed, there was no such thing. Before the trip she had thought that it was a good idea to bring the photos of the old days when she and Jason were an item. It wouldn’t harm to nudge his memory towards those heady, lusty days of their youth. Days when she wore grunge and he wore his jeans turned up at the ankle so that everyone could see his Doc Marten’s.

She had sorted through dozens of packets of photos, carefully selecting the ones where she looked lovely. She’d brought photos of smiley, successful days; ones that showed the gang picnicking in the park, hosting big dinner parties with poor food and screw-top wine. The photos showed them emerging victorious from the playing fields or looking ludicrous as they dressed up for rag week. The photos showed the gang in clusters, in pairs and in their entirety. They were rarely alone. They stood, happy and confident, arms draped around one another’s shoulders or lying on sofas or floors, relaxed and replete after eating and drinking too much, limbs and lives not so much tangled as comfortably intertwined. In Stalin-esque style Mia left behind the ones where either she or Scaley Jase had their arms around any other undergraduate.

Suddenly the miserable crowd was roused. No one could resist a peek at their younger selves, and both Tash and Jayne were keen to see photos of Rich.