Still Thinking of You (38 page)

63. Face the Music

They climbed back into their slightly damp snowboarding gear and took as direct a route as possible back to Avoriaz. Rich insisted that they went straight to their rooms to shower and change clothes. He had the vague hope that, if they followed this plan, Jayne would have gone out on to the slopes with the others. Maybe, he prayed, she’d have given up on the idea of splitting up Rich and Tash, and accepted that they were going to get married tomorrow. That’s what most women would have done. Rational women. Rich shuddered, unsure whether he actually knew any rational women in real life. They mostly existed in his imagination.

Well, his room was as safe a place as any. And as dangerous.

‘I don’t think I’ll go out on the slopes today. I want to call Ted and see how things are at home. It’s better for him not to waste any more time. We need to draw up an instant plan of action. I wasn’t totally with it yesterday. I’m not sure I was as responsive or helpful as I could have been,’ he added.

‘It was such a shock,’ agreed Tash. She was sitting on a chair massaging her feet. They’d only been outside for a couple of hours, but her fingers and toes were so cold that they throbbed as they warmed up. It felt as though she’d sustained multiple bee stings. She wanted to believe that Rich could somehow magic from thin air a new career for Ted. She wanted everything to come good for Ted and Kate, and she enjoyed the glow she felt watching Rich behave with such purpose, care and confidence. He was 100 per cent superhero as far as she was concerned.

‘Now I’ve had time to sleep on it, I’m sure there are some guys I could call that would meet with Ted.’

‘It’s a start,’ nodded Tash, smiling. ‘I’m sure Ted and Kate would be grateful for any leads you could heat up.’ It was so great that he’d put himself out like that. He was a good mate. He wasn’t ducking out because Ted was in a mess. Tash smiled. Rich’s simple, unselfish action showed her just what a magnanimous, thoughtful guy he really was.

At least in his room he could just refuse to answer the door. It would be ideal if he could persuade Tash to stay with him, so Jayne couldn’t get to her either, thought Rich.

Rich knelt in front of Tash and took her small feet in his large hands. He carefully rubbed warmth into them.

‘The problem is Ted is almost too honest for his own good. I’ll have to brief him on what to say and what not to say. We’re going to have to plan an exercise in damage limitation. I may have to be on the phone for a good couple of hours. Why don’t you stay here and read a book? It won’t be any fun if we are apart.’ He hoped he sounded casual and sincere, rather than desperate and terrified.

‘I’d love to, babe, but don’t forget that we are meeting the chef and the maître d’ at two o’clock. And we’ve got an appointment with the registrar before that.’

Tash kissed Rich, but he barely responded. His mind was whirling, and he’d never been good at multitasking. He had to go out! How was he going to manage that? She’d be there lying in wait for him, ready to pounce, he knew it. He’d have to get hold of Jason and ask him to get Jayne out of the way, otherwise how was he going to be able to move freely around the village?

Tash left her clothes in a puddle on the floor as usual and walked to the bathroom. She turned the shower on to full power and started to sing. Rich closed the bathroom door, making gestures that he couldn’t be heard on the phone with background noise, and then called Jason’s room. The phone rang once before it was snatched up.

‘Jase, mate? You’re not boarding?’

‘No, didn’t feel like it.’

‘Where are the others?’

‘No idea.’

‘I need to know where Jayne is.’

‘I’d like to know where Mia is.’

‘Could they be together?’

‘Anything’s possible.’

‘Are you OK, buddy? You sound strange.’ Rich was surprised to find himself asking this question. He thought he was the only one with problems.

‘Bit fucked up, to be frank. Mate, I’d appreciate it if we could have a beer. You wouldn’t believe the shit Mia hit me with last night.’

Rich checked his watch impatiently. He had to call Ted, he had to meet the chef and maître d’ and, above all, he had to avoid Jayne. Now Jason wanted to meet for a beer.

‘I wouldn’t ask, only –’

‘Yeah, buddy, cool. But I can’t go out. I’ll explain why when I see you. I’ll come to your room.’

Rich knew that Jason wouldn’t ask unless it was important.

64. Jayne’s Rampage

Yesterday, Rich had said he loved Tash, and Jayne had believed him. She hadn’t believed it was love when he stopped seeing her and every other woman when he’d met Tash. After all, she was used to long, barren periods when he’d had crushes on other women in the past. Sadly, theirs had never been the type of relationship where the regularity and frequency of the meetings could be counted on. She hadn’t accepted his plea that he wanted to be exclusive with Tash; she’d thought Tash was putting pressure on him and that ultimately Rich would come back to her. He’d always tired of other women after indecently brief periods in the past. Jayne hadn’t believed Rich loved Tash when he proposed marriage; she’d excused him, assuming he’d gotten caught up in the moment. She’d never expected him to actually go through with the wedding. Since they’d arrived in Avoriaz, he had on countless occasions insisted that he loved Tash, and still she hadn’t believed him.

But she believed him yesterday morning.

Yesterday morning he knew that if he rejected Jayne, he’d lose Tash anyway. Jayne would see to it. But he’d still rejected Jayne. He loved Tash so much he’d rather be alone than with someone else. The pain. The humiliation.

It scorched her entire body. Flames of loneliness, disappointment and emptiness licked every inch of her skin. Jayne had never felt anything quite so searing. She wanted to run away and hide, but she couldn’t hide from herself and it was her own mind that tortured her most.

How could he not want her? She had done everything she could to secure him. She had become everything she was to attract him. He was her motivation, her ambition, her reason for getting up in the morning. She felt bloody and bare. She grieved for him, or in fact the vision of him, with an unruly, brutal passion.

She had wasted so much time. Ever since she was sixteen, he had led her on. He’d used her. He’d taken the best years of her life. He’d had sex with her, over and over again, every which way, and now it turned out that that was all he’d had, sex. He’d never made love. She’d put his dick in her mouth, and it was just sex. He’d never seen that as a loving or doting act. She wished she’d fucking bit it off. He’d encouraged her to believe that they had some sort of relationship, that they had some sort of future. He might not actually have said anything for her to think that, but he’d never said anything that would stop her thinking that either. Or, maybe, if he had said something explicit about them being good shag-buddies, but him not being the sort to settle down, then she’d assumed he was just playing hard to get.

Because he had kept coming back for more.

For a decade he’d come back and back and back. When he’d said he thought it was a good idea that she see other men, she’d never really believed him. After all, she said it was a good idea for him to see other women and she hadn’t meant that for a second. It’s just what people do, isn’t it? They play it cool. They say the opposite to what they mean. It’s part of the game.

The game was over. Even Jayne could see that. Rich was never going to be hers, but he was not going to be Tash’s either. She would stop this wedding. Rich would not find his happily ever after with Tash. She would not allow it.

As well as the grief and the pain and the scorching sting of humiliation, Jayne felt a foul and an unutterable rage. Fuming, livid, mad. Vengeful. After Jayne had rushed back to the hotel and dictated a hurried note to the concierge, more or less demanding Tash’s immediate attention, she ran to her room and slammed the door behind her. If only she could really lock the world out. She had been fired with rage, but the instant she was alone in her room the fury had been swallowed up by self-pity and a cold awakening.

Rich had never loved her. He had never said he loved her, and he had never done anything to give her the impression that he was in love with her. She pulled out her memento box and stared at the pathetic contents. Bits of scribbled handwriting, not even intended for her, photos of him as he slept because he would never willingly smile for her or even for her camera. Toenail clippings, secretly retrieved from the bin at night. It didn’t amount to a relationship.

He hadn’t even acknowledged her existence during his drunken, debauched chats with his best mates.

She flung the box at the bedroom wall. It made a satisfying crash, and the contents flew out. Tube tickets fluttered around the room like confetti. Jayne looked for something else to break. She swept the contents of the dressing table on to the floor. The expensive glass bottles, full of perfume and other lotions and potions, clattered and scattered to the floor. The ointments and gels oozed on to the carpet. She’d have to pay for the damage, but she didn’t care. She’d flung open her wardrobe doors and clawed at the contents, ripping delicate, lacy tops and breaking the heels of her astonishingly expensive shoes. She wanted to destroy it all. None of it meant anything at all. Without him she did not have a life. She picked up the bridal magazines and her novel, and tore at the pages, scrunching the pages into balls and tossing them away. She smashed the bottles in the bathroom and her bedside table lamp. Her hurricane-like path of destruction only began to wane when her arms ached with pulling things apart and her fists bled with cuts and tears. Then she collapsed onto the bed and howled.

65. Jayne’s Reveal

Tash checked her watch again, then tapped it lightly because, for dubious, unscientific reasons, people did that to see if their watch was still working when time was dragging. Of course her watch was still working. It just seemed stuck as she’d stared at it so much in the past hour.

Where was Rich?

He’d explained that he had to go to Jason’s room, said Jason was upset about something. What in this world would upset Jase, who was so laid-back he was horizontal? Then he had the calls to make on Ted’s behalf, but he had promised he’d be in the foyer in time to go for the meeting with the registrar. But Rich was nowhere to be found, and Tash had to attend the appointment on her own.

She’d liked the registrar instantly. He was a jovial, rotund chap in his early fifties. He laughed a lot and oozed confidence and assurance. He told her that he was a demon on his skis and had patted his stomach and insisted that she should not be deceived by his girth; he’d confidently manage a ceremony on the slopes. He reassured her by telling her that marrying on the slopes was not unprecedented, but then, not a common occurrence. The right blend of individual but not barmy, attainable but not predictable. The registrar ran through the details and legalities. The wedding ceremony had to be performed in French and English, but as he was fluent in both a translator was not necessary. Tash was glad, as she didn’t want the officials outnumbering the guests. The registrar gave her a brief list of things to double-check. Validity of lift passes, the hours the lifts opened, that they both had birth certificates or passports with them. Tash had already checked and double-checked everything on the list, and everything was in order. She left the registrar’s office walking on air. It was lovely to know that her big day was in such remarkably capable and congenial hands.

Tash returned to the hotel and asked the concierge if there were any messages for her. There were five from Jayne, but none from Rich. Two of Jayne’s notes had been left yesterday, and the three more demanding ones had been written this morning. Jayne’s notes asked Tash to contact her ‘immediately’. Jayne had given her room number and mobile number, even though Tash had these details, and even the hotel’s phone number, which Tash thought was a bit odd. The notes were full of exclamation marks and underlinings and, while the intensity of the request did vary slightly, they all ran along similar lines.

Tash,
It is
imperative
that we speak as soon as possible. I am not taking to the slopes today because of the
urgency
of this matter! Please call me on my mobile
as soon as
you receive this note or come and find me!! I am in Bar de la Galerie.

Jayne

Tash smiled to herself. Jayne was a funny girl. The tone of the note was so dramatic. Tash had received four similar notes from her so far on this short break. The ‘urgent matter’ was usually something so trivial that Tash had to employ all her self-restraint not to laugh in Jayne’s face.

The other night it had been the ‘urgent’ matter of whether the red velour Diesel top versus classic DKNY sweatshirt was the most suitable for dinner. Before that she was called into Jayne’s room ‘urgently’ to discuss the choice of nail varnish for her toes. Toes that would be hidden in thick ski socks and boarding boots for the majority of the trip. It was very flattering that Jayne made such a big deal over the fact that Tash was a ‘style guru’, as she had been dubbed, but Tash did wonder how Jayne had managed to get herself dressed for the past thirty years. Tash giggled as she read that it was ‘vital that they talk, more serious than a matter of life and death’. You had to give it to Jayne, she had such a sense of humour. However, whatever the crisis – trendy O’Neil sunglasses versus classic Gucci, perhaps? – Tash didn’t have time to go to Bar de la Galerie, she had to meet with the maître d’ and the chef.

Tash had hoped that Rich would at least make it to this meeting, but he didn’t, so he missed the complimentary lunch that they’d prepared as a rehearsal for the wedding breakfast. Tash lingered over her coffee, playing with discarded breadcrumbs from her roll. She piled the crumbs into a Thumbelina-sized mountain, then scattered them again.

It was five past four.

The restaurant walls were painted oxblood red, which Tash thought was extremely fitting; red was a hot, passionate colour. She’d finalized the menu details and timing with the maître d’ and the chef. A six-course meal for six now, not eight. Sitting down at 1 p.m.; no doubt not rising again until after sundown. There were to be red gladioli on the table and, although Rich didn’t know it, Tash had bought a new boarding jacket in red. Well, every bride got a new outfit. The plan was to wake up early, be married at nine on the Pointe de Mossette overlooking the Portes du Soleil. Then they’d ski and board all morning, then change and have lunch at 1 p.m. Unconventional as far as wedding days went, but exactly what Tash and Rich wanted. Outdoors, energetic and individual.

Tash had drunk three glasses of wine with her complimentary lunch. She was supposed to be tasting them and then spitting them out, but it seemed such a waste, she couldn’t bear it. And now a fourth glass, a dessert wine, had just been delivered to her table. Strictly speaking, she should have drunk this with the crème brioche, but she’d only taken a bite of the brioche and then demurred, pleading that every bride-to-be likes to watch her figure. The chef had nodded, understanding. He was French and therefore loved food, but loved slim women more.

Tash sighed contentedly. She was replete and ready. Replete from the delicious meal and ready for her delicious future. She wanted to hold her arms out wide and embrace it. She wanted to dive in and touch and feel, and see and smell and hear everything that life had in store for her and Rich. It had been a peculiar week. A rollercoaster ride. Mia’s constant sniping and niggles had been wearing. It would have been nice if Mia had been like Jayne. Making friends with Jayne was like being a kid on a blistering hot summer day, dashing down a slide into a paddling pool of water – fun, thrilling and a giggle. Jayne would always have a special place in Tash’s heart. Becoming friends with Mia had been closer to the experience of climbing up a greased pole but, although Tash still had some way to go, she believed it would be worth it. Everyone else seemed to like and respect Mia. It couldn’t be that they were all mistaken. Besides, the more she’d got to know everyone, the better she liked them.

And best of all, since their talk yesterday, Tash felt that she and Rich had never been stronger. She had never felt as close to him as she did last night. She had felt entirely complete, entirely fulfilled. She beamed to herself, bring it on. She and Rich were about to embark on a lifetime of love, respect and honesty. Life didn’t get any better.

Tash swallowed back another slurp of dessert wine. She ought to go and find Mia and ask her if she would do a reading at the wedding. She’d go as soon as she finished this glass.

‘Hi, I’ve been looking for you.’ Tash looked up and grinned as she saw Jayne. Perfect. Company.

‘I know. I got your notes. I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I’ve had such a busy day. Come on, pull up a chair, I’ll tell you all about it. Do you fancy a glass of wine? Or maybe champagne? I fancy champagne.’ Tash giggled. ‘I cannot believe I’ll be married this time tomorrow.’ Tash beamed at her friend. ‘It’s kind of just hit me. With all the drama about Ted and Kate and the, let’s face it, the issues I’ve had with Mia, I’d almost forgotten why I’d come here.’ Tash rolled her eyes, paused, thought back to the night before, then beamed at Jayne. ‘But yesterday we boarded to Switzerland and we had the most romantic time.’ Jayne sat down opposite, bolt upright and unsmiling. She didn’t look like someone who was about to start a party. Tash paused, and then asked, ‘Everything OK?’

‘I have something very difficult to tell you, and I always think that with bad news it’s best to get straight to the point, don’t you?’

Jayne’s eyes had changed. They were no longer smudgy, smiley and sincere, as Tash was sure they had been. They were flint-like and focused.

‘What is it? Has there been an accident? My God, is it Rich?’

‘No accident, but, yes, my bad news is about Rich.’

Something didn’t compute. Tash couldn’t understand. Bad news. Her friend was about to tell her some bad news, so shouldn’t she be trying to look more sympathetic? Shouldn’t she be touching her arm or something? Good God, was this news so awful that it blasted apart common conventions? Tash didn’t know what to think.

‘Tash, I really am frightfully sorry, but your wedding is off.’ Jayne pronounced the sentence in tight, clipped tones. She used her poshest accent. The one that she knew terrified shop assistants.

‘What?’ laughed Tash. ‘What’s the joke?’ That’s why Jayne had seemed unnatural. This wasn’t
real
bad news; it was a joke, a poor-taste joke.

‘No joke. Rich is having an affair.’ Jayne shrugged, surely that was explanation enough.

‘I don’t believe you,’ Tash said instantly.

She stared at Jayne, who stared right back. Tash searched her friend’s face for some uncertainty, sympathy or sorrow, which surely ought to be the correct response if this ridiculous tale were true. She saw none. Jayne looked back with bored indifference.

‘It is absolutely true.’

‘There’s some mistake. Or an explanation,’ stumbled Tash.

Because, oh, God, this could not be true. Not Rich. Other men cheated on their girls and women, but her Rich would never do that to her, never. The waiter seemed to be lurching at her, then disappearing into the distance. The wine rack and the dessert trolley were out of focus. The red walls pulsed like an exposed heart. Tash felt trapped in a semiconscious state, not dissimilar to going under anaesthetic. She couldn’t make sense of her world. Even as her heart and soul rejected the concept, her brain began to work overtime.

It could be true. Rich had a history of infidelity. What was so special about her, and her relationship, for her to imagine that she was immune? Why would Jayne make this up? She wouldn’t, no one would. Besides Rich
had
been acting peculiarly recently. And where was he today? Why didn’t he want to meet the registrar? Had he sent Jayne to do his dirty work? Was it Mia? Had her fears been founded? Her brain scolded her immature heart and soul. Her brain said it did make sense and that her heart and soul were foolish for trusting him.

‘How do you know?’ asked Tash. Please, God, she prayed, let it be gossip. Let it be hearsay that is unsubstantial and ultimately erroneous.

‘Because it is me he is having an affair with.’ Jayne held Tash’s gaze, she refused to falter or apologize.

‘You?’

Tash gasped and reached for her glass of water. She glugged it back and tried to breathe. But she couldn’t. Something as simple as breathing, which she’d been doing for ever, was impossible. Tash could feel a debilitating pain in her gut. It throbbed with the same intensity that a stitch did. It felt like those undefined pains that kids suffer from age between nine and fourteen – her mother used to call them growing pains. Where was her mum? She needed her mum to massage away this growing pain.

‘We started sleeping together when I was sixteen and have been ever since.’

‘Ever since?’ Tash repeated uselessly. She didn’t understand.

‘He didn’t know how to tell you.’ Jayne stood up and walked out of the restaurant. She congratulated herself. She’d spent twenty-four hours perfecting that script and, really, she could not have delivered it better.