The Truth About You (10 page)

‘So what’s happened?’ Stacy asked, pushing her empty coffee cup aside, and pulling in the fresh one Lainey had just bought. ‘I must say you look a bit hassled.’

‘Only because I’m late,’ Lainey sighed, smiling at one of Zav’s teachers, ‘and Max has just rung to find out where his father is, like I’m supposed to know
everything
,’ she added with a frustrated sort of laugh. Her eyes suddenly rounded. ‘Oh God, Stace, you’re not seriously planning to eat that enormous slice of carrot cake.’

Stacy blinked in surprise. ‘Why, what else did you think I was going to do with it?’ she countered with convincing confusion.

Lainey laughed. ‘It’s not fair. If I ate that I’d have to stay on my treadmill for a week to work it off, and even then it wouldn’t have budged. Anyway, tell me about Martin, have you heard from him today?’

Stacy’s eyes twinkled. ‘Wait for this . . . He rang a few minutes ago to say that his mother’s invited us for dinner.’

Lainey almost choked on her coffee. ‘You’re kidding me,’ she gulped. ‘And you thought he was a commitment-phobe?’

Stacy shrugged. ‘Let’s not get too hasty. Maybe she invites all his new girlfriends to give them the once-over before he gets too involved.’

Lainey pulled a face. ‘You’re not painting a very dashing picture of this bloke,’ she told her.

Though Stacy smiled, she said, ‘Well, if he’s that close to his mother, maybe it’s why he’s still single at thirty-eight.’

Lainey didn’t disagree. ‘Where does the mother live?’ she asked, using Stacy’s fork to carve off a tiny corner of cake.

‘Painswick, apparently, so not far. I’m preparing myself for a gorgon, so anything less will be a bit of a kitten. Anyway, that’s not my really big news, or it wasn’t when I rang, and it still isn’t actually, because you’ll never guess . . . Is that mine or yours?’ she asked, diving into her bag as a mobile started to ring.

‘Mine,’ Lainey replied, hauling out her own. ‘Tierney,’ she announced, and with a roll of her eyes she clicked on. ‘Hi darling, everything OK?’

‘Yeah, I’m cool,’ Tierney replied, sounding too bored for words, ‘just wanted to let you know I’m going to stay at Maudie’s tonight, OK?’

It took Lainey only a moment to decide that it would probably be for the best, given the way Tierney had behaved during their last dinner party. Not that she’d been completely outrageous, in fact she’d been no more than a normal fifteen-year-old needing to flirt and opine and challenge, the way kids her age often did. The point was, no one really wanted to deal with a child trying to kick down the doors of puberty during what was supposed to be a relaxing evening for adults. ‘Have you got everything with you?’ she asked.

‘No, but I can always borrow some of Maudie’s stuff if I need to. I’ll be back in the morning, I expect, but don’t worry, I’ll be quiet if you and Dad are still in bed with hangovers. I expect you will be. Hope the dinner goes well.’

‘Thanks,’ Lainey smiled wryly. ‘Say hi to Maudie for me. Bring her back for breakfast if you like.’

‘I’ll ask her. Got to go now. Bye.’

A moment after Tierney rang off Lainey was answering her mobile again, this time to Max. ‘Hi, isn’t Dad there yet?’ she asked with another apologetic glance at Stacy.

‘No,’ Max snapped stroppily, ‘and Zav’s just scored.’

‘Yay!’ Lainey cheered, holding up a hand to high-five with Stacy. ‘Zav’s scored a goal,’ she told her.

‘Yeah, great,’ Max retorted sourly, ‘but Dad’s missed it, so where the hell is he and why isn’t he answering his phone?’

‘I don’t know, Max,’ Lainey answered with a pang of concern. What was going on with Tom? It wasn’t like him to let one of the children down, at least not without giving a reason. ‘He was about to leave the house the last time I saw him,’ she said, ‘so he should be there any minute. You tried the landline, I take it?’

‘Yeah, Marty answered, and apparently Dad’s car is still there, but he doesn’t know where Dad is.’

Lainey frowned with confusion.
Tom’s car was there, but he wasn’t answering his phone.
‘Did Marty try the study?’ she asked.

‘I suppose so. Anyway, if you hear from him tell him from me that he’s a lousy father,’ and the line went dead.

‘OK, well, I probably won’t be passing on that cheery little message,’ she muttered sweetly as she rang off.

Stacy was looking intrigued.

‘It seems Tom’s gone AWOL,’ Lainey explained, ‘which in his case probably means he decided to do some work before heading out and has got engrossed. You know what he’s like. Anyway, where were we? I know, your really big news. So, come on, spill.’

Beaming, Stacy said, ‘You remember my old boss at the paper, Diana Grimshaw? OK, she left a couple of years ago, but . . .’

‘Yeah, yeah, I remember her,’ Lainey confirmed. ‘You always got on really well with her.’

Clearly pleased that Lainey remembered, Stacy said, ‘Well, apparently she’s part of this consortium that’s setting up a new magazine and she wants to talk to me about coming on board.’

Lainey couldn’t have felt more thrilled. ‘That’s fantastic news,’ she cried, reaching across the table to embrace her best friend. If anyone was in need of – or deserved – a break, it was her. ‘When did you hear?’ she asked.

‘Well, I knew yesterday that she was trying to get in touch,’ Stacy replied, scooting her chair forward so a young mother could pass with an overloaded buggy, ‘but we didn’t actually manage to connect until this morning.’ Her eyes came up, and for the first time in ages Lainey saw the confident, talented journalist she’d known so well starting to emerge from the protective cocoon that had almost smothered her. ‘She wants me to go to a meeting on Wednesday, in town,’ she continued, ‘and if all goes well, I’ll stay on to meet her partners on Thursday.’

‘That’s fantastic,’ Lainey declared. ‘They’ll be very lucky to have you on board. So tell me, what’s it about? When’s it going to launch? Oh hell, who’s this now?’ she groaned, as her phone rang again. ‘Actually, it’s the caterer so I’d better take it.’

Waving her on, Stacy picked up her fork to start making a meal of her cake, only half listening as Lainey went through the menu for tonight’s dinner and what time the caterers should arrive.

By the time Lainey rang off her mind was full of all she had to do while she was in town, so she remained distracted as she added new notes to the list she already had. Then she was ringing Tom to check he’d remembered to order the wine.

‘I’m sure you did,’ she said into his voicemail, ‘but I haven’t taken delivery of any yet, so I thought I’d better make sure. If there’s a problem, we’ve definitely got enough in the cellar, but we’ll need to bring it up. I expect Max can help with that. Have you spoken to him yet? He’s been trying to get hold of you. Zav’s scored a goal. Yay! OK, call me when you get this.’ Ringing off, she returned her attention to Stacy. ‘Sorry,’ she grimaced, ‘I’ll turn it off now.’

‘You don’t have to do that. I’m used to it, with you.’

Lainey looked pained as a text bleeped into her inbox. It turned out to be Frankie and Dawn, two of the evening’s guests, checking on what time they were expected. Since they had a country retreat locally they wouldn’t be staying at Bannerleigh Cross, so Lainey texted back
7.30 for drinks,
and made another note to drop into the farm shop on the way home to pick up more eggs for breakfast.

The next text was from Max.
Still no sign of Dad. Zav really upset.

Deciding to ignore it, since there was nothing she could do right now, Lainey tucked her phone away and returned her attention to Stacy. ‘If it does work out with Diana,’ she said, ‘when do you think they’ll want you to start?’

Stacy said, ‘No idea, and we better not get too carried away, they might end up deciding against me.’

‘No way.’

Stacy laughed.

‘So come on, what’s the magazine going to be about?’

‘Apparently it’s going to target women in their forties and fifties, though whether with fashion, cooking, travel, lifestyle . . . Actually, it’s probably all of the above. I’ll find out more on Wednesday.’

‘Does she want you as some kind of editor, do you think? It sounds just your sort of thing. I wonder if it’s going to be part of a weekend paper, you know, some kind of supplement, or a standalone?’ Lainey was looking at her mobile. ‘I’d ignore this call, I swear it,’ she said, ‘if it weren’t the caterer again.’

Stacy waved her to answer and set about finishing her cake.

‘I was thinking,’ she said, after Lainey had dealt with the issue of who was providing coffee cups, ‘if I am offered a job, I should make it clear right away that I’ve already booked a holiday.’

Lainey looked surprised, then doubtful. ‘Just don’t let it be a deal-breaker,’ she cautioned. ‘I mean obviously I want you to come to Italy, but if they’re just starting out I should think they’d want all hands on deck.’

‘Possibly, probably, but I should be able to come for a week at least. When are you going to book flights? I think we ought to do it soon, or we might not get the ones we want. Where do we fly into?’

‘Pisa, if we go from Bristol. Perugia if we want to get ourselves all the way to Stansted, but I don’t think we do. Ah, it seems my husband has surfaced from wherever he was hiding,’ she declared as Tom’s name flashed on her mobile. ‘Hi, where are you?’ she demanded, clicking on. ‘Please tell me you’re at the game.’

‘Actually, I’m at home,’ came the reply, ‘but I’m about to go back to London.’

Lainey frowned, not sure she was liking the sound of this. ‘Why? What’s happened?’ she asked, glancing at Stacy.

‘I can’t get into it now,’ he told her. ‘I just have to go.’

Lainey’s eyes widened. ‘But what about the dinner?’ she protested.

‘You’ll have to go ahead without me.’

At that her temper sparked. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. They’re your friends.’

‘Yours too.’

‘But they come to see you. Tom, what the hell’s going on? Why do you have to go back to London?’

‘I told you, I can’t get into it now. We’ll talk tomorrow.’

‘No! I want you to tell me. How long are you going to be gone?’

‘I’m not sure. Look, I have to go. I need to call Zav to apologise for missing his match . . .’

‘Tom!’

‘I’ll speak to you later,’ and the line went dead.

Stunned, Lainey looked at her mobile, then quickly rang him back. ‘He’s turned his bloody phone off,’ she swore as she went straight through to voicemail.

‘What’s happening?’ Stacy demanded.

Lainey shook her head in confusion. ‘I’ve got no idea, except tonight’s off apparently, and he’s going back to London.’

Looking concerned, Stacy said, ‘It must be something to do with the production. One of the actor’s has gone sick, or the script’s not working.’

‘If that’s the case, why didn’t he say so?’ Her thoughts were tangling up in all sorts of suspicions, most of which were snaring on the text.

Ask your husband about Julia.

Quickly scrolling to the message, she passed it over for Stacy to read.

‘Who’s it from?’ Stacy asked.

Lainey shook her head.

Frowning, Stacy read it again. ‘So did you ask him?’

‘I didn’t take it seriously until . . . Well, until now, I guess . . .’ She was dialling his number again. Once more she was bumped through to voicemail. ‘He’s not answering,’ she said, clicking off the line. She wasn’t sure what to think, or say, or do next.

‘Have you tried calling whoever sent the text?’ Stacy asked. ‘Here, let me,’ and taking the phone back she searched out the number. ‘It’s blocked,’ she declared, after trying.

Lainey was racking her brains, trying to remember a Julia. In the end her eyes returned to Stacy. ‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’ she asked quietly. There was only one explanation that was making any sense, and she really, really didn’t want to go there.

‘What I’m doing is trying not to jump to conclusions,’ Stacy informed her.

Lainey got to her feet.

‘Where are you going?’ Stacy asked.

Lainey shrugged. ‘Home, I suppose.’

‘What about tonight’s dinner? I thought you were getting bread . . .’

‘I’ll cancel it.’

Stacy’s eyes widened. ‘Isn’t it a bit late? What about the caterers? They’ll have everything . . .’

‘They’ll get paid,’ Lainey interrupted. ‘We’ve had to cancel at short notice before, so they’ll donate the food to a local shelter.’

‘Do you want me to come with you?’ Stacy offered.

Lainey attempted a smile. ‘It’s OK, I’ll be fine. Go and get the old gorgon some flowers, and if she turns out to be a kitten . . . Well, let’s just hope she does.’

Lainey was experiencing so many strange feelings during the drive home that for long stretches of road she barely noticed where she was going. It seemed as though the world was trying to slip anchor, or to throw her into another dimension, but wasn’t quite managing it.

Ask your husband about Julia.

Who had sent the message? Julia herself? Or somebody else?

She kept hearing Tom saying the name,
Julia,
whispering it like a lover and feeling its sound like music. For her it was a stone, a beat falling out of time.

Why now? What had made the person who’d sent the text choose this week to contact her? What had happened to make it so urgent, so necessary for Tom to go to her today? Presuming that was where he’d gone. Maybe it wasn’t.

Their village, Bannerleigh, looked from the air like a flamenco dancer, with arms circled overhead forming both sides of Acacia Avenue, with a green in the middle where local children often played cricket. The bottom end of the narrow high street, where a dozen or more almshouses, a handful of quaint cottages, the pub and its garden, and the church and graveyard clustered around a few cobbled lanes, were like the dancer’s flying skirts. At the western end of the village was where the likeness came adrift, since the wider streets for the pricier houses, the playing fields and an ugly caged-in electricity grid had nothing of a dancer’s legs. It was Max who’d first come up with the simile, when he was about nine years old and a friend had taken them up in a light aircraft. They’d only just come back from a holiday in Spain, where the caballeros at a flamenco show had sat him and Tierney on one of the white horses so they could ride around the stage and be a part of the magic.