When Good Friends Go Bad (40 page)

'Endless affairs?' Jen was shaken. 'But then . . . how, why do you stay? How can you be so forgiving? Why don't you leave?'

'I've wanted to, Jennifer, many times, but it's complicated. I suppose, like Rowan and Thomas, I've always felt he needed me. To support him, mother him, slap his hand when he's a naughty boy, kiss his knee when he gets a graze. And I need him, because you know, inside I've always been the insecure, bossy, chubby-chops little girl, grateful for a boyfriend, grateful that someone as attractive and appealing as Aiden Starkson could want someone as ugly and plump as me, Chubby Carrington.'

'But you're not Chubby Carrington any more. You're Gorgeous Giordani Carrington, Magnificent Giordani Carrington, Courageous Giordani Carrington.'

'Courageous Carrington, now I like the sound of that.' Georgina cheered up. 'Then you must be Bravissima Bedlow and Nutmeg could be the Legendary Lennox, Marvellous Meg.'

'Shh.' Jen put her finger to her mouth. 'For God's sake don't let her hear you say it. Her head's big enough as it is.'

Three days later Jen took off her gloves, settled herself on her regular rock and checked her watch. Monday. Eleven a.m. 22nd December. Right on time he arrived.

'Hi there.' He sat down and gently took her hand in his.

'I'm glad you could come.'

'Well of course I did.' He looked nervous, nervous but sweet and so very very handsome.

She smiled at him wistfully and he laughed. 'Come on, you're making me uneasy. What did you decide?'

'I decided yes, Starkey. Yes. If you want to be with me, I want to be with you.'

'You do?' Relief flooded his face. He wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling into her neck. 'Baby, that's wonderful. I was so worried.'

'So was I, but I know it'll work out all right,' she mumbled, smothered by his coat, then pulled her head back. 'Now come on, no time to lose. You go home and tell Georgina and I'll go home and tell Chloe. No more sneaking around. Pack your bags this afternoon.'

'Hang on.' He looked startled. 'Where's the fire? You're being rather hasty, aren't you? I can't just change my life at the drop of a hat. Why today?'

'I just thought,' she looked at their linked hands, 'no point in putting it off. We've wasted so much time already. I can't go on pretending another minute. We might as well start searching for flats as well. Come new year, I'll have to leave my house and obviously Georgina will be living in yours as her grandmother's money paid for it.'

'How do you know that?' His eyes flickered.

'Girl talk,' Jen sighed, adding, 'no secrets between friends. Apart from our little one of course, which I suppose is rather a big one. It's going to be a struggle at first, financially, I imagine. I mean obviously Ollie will shell out for Chloe, but if we're living together that's the end of my maintenance. For a start my pride wouldn't allow it. We'll both be looking for work too, I suppose, though with my skills it'll probably be stacking supermarket shelves. I'm afraid you'll have to support us, darling, but at least you'll be able to finish that novel. Oh Starkey,' she clasped her hands in rapture, 'it's going to be heaven.'

He'd risen to his feet, a frown creasing his brow.

'Wait, wait,' he held up his hand, 'you're going much too fast. I have a job. At Giordani's. I can't quit in five seconds flat. The whole company depends on me.'

'Oh?' Jen bit her lip. 'I just assumed Georgie would kick you out once she finds out about us. We have to be realistic. We'll probably be broke for ages, or until you write that best-seller, but what does that matter when we're in love and sharing our lives?'

Aiden was pacing now, his face pale. Somehow she didn't think it was all from cold. Twenty-two years she'd pined for this man, her thoughts continually drawn to him the way you probe a hole in your mouth where a tooth has been extracted, as crazy in her longing and romantic fantasies as Dugan had been over Rowan. Now she got to see what he was truly made of.

'Yes, yes, great,' he said impatiently. 'Can't you hush a minute. I've got to think. You know Georgina's in a fragile state. I'm not sure this is the moment . . .'

'Forget Georgie!' she retorted. 'I'm sick of hearing about her. What about
us,
our happiness? Besides, you should have seen her this weekend, she's a lot more together than you imagine. I've been checking the housing market,' she continued, watching him walk in perturbed circles. 'We can't afford this area, far too expensive, but I've had a quick browse through
Loot,
and we could probably find a two-bed flat in East Croydon, the area near the railway station. We'll need the extra room for Chloe.'

'Chloe?' He stopped his circling and stared at her.

'She'll be at home with us seventy-five per cent of the time at least. Ollie won't want the expense of a big custody battle but he'll get one if he kicks up a fuss. It will be such fun, all three of us, six if you count the rabbit and gerbil and Feo, until Anamaria comes back from Spain, that is. We'll be a real family.'

The harrowed look wasn't leaving his face. She stood up and threw her arms around him, snuggling into his warmth.

'Oh, baby, you'll love getting to know her. She's a sweetheart when she's not throwing pre-teen tantrums or showing off to all those friends of hers that arrive on our doorstep demanding sleepovers.' She fussed with the collar of his coat, turning it up to protect his neck. 'But heck, that's kids for you.'

'Yes, well, tantrums aren't my forte.' He stepped away, returning his coat collar to its rightful position. 'Except throwing them myself maybe.' He tried to smile. 'Isn't it unfair to bung Chloe straight in with your new lover? Shouldn't there be some time . . . a lot of time . . . in between? Let her get used to the idea?'

'But darling,' she looked surprised, 'you'll be her stepfather once we marry. And as you told me, children adapt. I was even thinking we might have a little sister or brother for her. Cement our union.'

'Sounds like you've been doing a bloody sight too much thinking,' he blurted angrily. Their eyes locked. She saw in his widening pupils realisation dawn of what she was doing.

His hand went back to brush a wave of dark hair off his forehead, clearly planning his next move. Then he spread out his arms, smiling in a charming, helpless way. A hollow reed bending with the slightest breeze.

'OK,' he said, 'you've got me. Fact is I'm not sure.'

'Not sure about what?' She pinned him with her stare, daring him to speak the truth.

'I'm not sure I can go through with this,' he said finally. 'I'm not sure this is what I want.'

She looked at him dispassionately. This man she'd cried so much over. Dreamed about. Painted in her mind as everything that was romantic, perfect and ideal.

'You know, Starkey,' she crossed her arms and sighed, 'somehow that's exactly what I thought you'd say.'

'I do apologise, Jennifer.' Georgina's voice crackled down her mobile the next morning. 'I tried getting away, but ended up caught in a meeting. I'll be there in ten minutes, tops. Promise. Look, there's a key under the snowdrops pot. Just let yourself in and make yourself a brew.'

Which was the snowdrops pot? What did it look like? Jen spent five minutes searching fruitlessly for a snowdrops pot amongst the many tubs, barrels and troughs that Georgina's gardener had placed outside the front of her house. Finally she found the key, hidden under a container of compost with a bundle of little green shoots sticking just above the surface.

It felt odd being here again on her own. No one offering her drinks, plumping up the cushions behind her back or throwing out fresh suggestions for finding Rowan.

Aiden had gone away for a few days, according to Georgina, seeming moody and out of sorts and saying he needed a break to get his head together. She wandered towards his study, the presumed centre of all their clandestine phone calls. It wasn't like the door was closed or anything, and half of her only wanted to check what the view was like from his window. Or at least that's what the other half – the devil in her right ear – told her. It was a nice view too, finely mowed lawns, assortment of conifers. She spent all of thirty seconds admiring it before the devil spurred her on, focusing her attention on the contents of his office. She glanced across at his filing cabinet, up at his books neatly displayed on solid beech shelves. Then she opened a drawer of his leather-topped desk and then another drawer, followed by a third and a fourth, and there, underneath a manila folder, lay a manuscript. Her eyes scanned the first pages.

She was so absorbed that she didn't hear the key turning in the lock, the footsteps down the hallway, the opening of the study door. All Jen heard was; 'Found what you're looking for?'

She whirled around. Georgina was standing in the doorway, briefcase in one hand, coat over her arm.

'I'm sorry,' Jen said, flustered, quickly shoving the manuscript away and shutting the drawer. 'I wasn't snooping.'

She gave a curious smile. 'Oh yes you were.'

'Well OK, maybe I was,' Jen admitted timidly.

'Have you read it? Aiden's novel?'

'Parts. I skimmed through.'

'And what do you think?'

'Excellent. Really highbrow. Should make the Booker.'

'Honest?'

'Honest.'

'Poppycock!' Georgina stepped forward, throwing her briefcase and coat on the couch. 'Come on, let's have it out. Let's play the truth game, shall we? One last time.'

'Look . . . I only . . .'

'No, come on. Right here, right now. You and me, Jennifer.'

Jen took a deep breath. 'All right, you asked for it. Aiden's book . . . what I've read . . . and maybe I'm missing something because I'm certainly no judge. But . . . it's drivel. Absolute, mindless, incomprehensible drivel. He's completely up his own arse. I never thought I'd say that about anything creative, because who am I to spout forth my big fat self-important opinion, but I'm sorry, Georgie, I think it's the worst heap of rubbish I've ever read in my whole life.'

'I do so agree,' she tittered gleefully. 'And so do the publishers he's sent excerpts to. You know, sometimes when I'm feeling low and needy and insecure and he's being beastly, pretentious and aloof, I come in here and read a few pages and I think yes, Aiden Starkson, you're not God's Precious Gift to All Mankind or whatever you like to imagine. You have many faults. And this is a delicious example.' She pulled open the drawer Jen had just closed and tapped her index finger hard onto the manuscript.

'But I thought you'd be offended. Considering you're his wife.'

'Exactly. Who would know better than his wife – alas? Anyway, it's the truth.' She closed the drawer again. 'And you have to play the truth in the truth game, don't you, Jennifer? Nobody's black or white. We're all shades of grey, good and bad. We each have our little idiosyncrasies.'

Georgina led the way out of the office and through to the kitchen, where she switched on the kettle.

'Miss Dandridge took the day off, her sciatica's been bothering her.' She pulled out cups and saucers from a glass-fronted cabinet. 'Frankly it's a relief to be honest at last.' She took a deep breath. 'I always fancied Aiden, you know, even before you went out with him. Of course I knew it was one of those impossible crushes that schoolgirls get on their friends' boyfriends. I'd never have done anything about it, just like you'd never do anything horrible to me. But even when fate threw us together, all those years later, I always felt second-best to you, Jennifer, and to be quite truthful my heart practically stopped when I heard Nutmeg had contacted you again. I just knew Aiden would target you. Why wouldn't he? You were his first, maybe his only love.'

'Men, huh! So predictable.' Jen sighed heavily. 'I thought for years that Starkey was my one true love, I had this stupid romantic notion of it all, the great tragedy of our parting kind of crap. I even bought into it a bit when we met again, but you know what, Georgie, it was all bollocks. We were kids living a hormonal teenage dreamlife. Aiden doesn't love me. Not in a real way. And I don't love him. It was all a fantastic illusion, both of us wanting to recapture something that probably never was. I only wish I'd realised it years ago. All through my marriage, whenever I had problems with Ollie I had this handy image of the wonderful Aiden Starkson to compare him with. But everyday life can't be about thrills and uncertainty and excitement. And I almost lost something just as precious to me – your friendship – because I didn't want to wake up.'

'I know – only too well.' Georgina walked over and gave her a one-armed squeeze. 'It's so much easier to close your eyes sometimes and just pretend. Refuse to look at your dreadful marriage and cheating husband.' She gave a kind of shiver, visibly returning to her hostess self. 'What kind of tea would you like? Earl Grey? Ceylon? Lapsang souchong? Oolong?' Her fingers ranged along a row of canisters. Her kitchen was a gourmet's paradise, with a six-burner hob and gleaming copper pans.

'Any PG Tips?' Jen found herself a stool and sat down. 'You know, I've given it a lot of thought and I've decided that so much of my yearning for Aiden wasn't the man himself but what he represented – being that age when you feel everything so keenly, when you've just discovered sex and it's the most amazing thing on earth. At sixteen everything was so intense, all those emotions brand new. It was as if we were living our lives in Technicolor and as an adult it gradually faded back to shades of sepia. And much as I wouldn't want to go back to being a teenager, somehow I mixed Starkey up with those feelings, that zest for life which I'd absolutely lost.'

For a moment Georgina looked quite crestfallen. The kettle boiled and she stared hard at it, apparently forgetting why she'd switched it on. 'You know, Jennifer, with this whole searching for Rowan saga, it's almost as if she was like the Holy Grail for us all. We worshipped and envied her at the same time. You had this thing about her being beautiful, even though you're so attractive yourself. I always felt that she had all the talent, even though Giordani is a great success. And Nutmeg told me, in confidence, that she'd always wished she could be as nice as Rowan.' She poured the water into the teapot. 'That she knew she could be selfish and controlling, and Rowan was always so generous and self-sacrificing it made her feel even crummier in comparison. And then we find out Rowan's not all that – she's just, well, human, I guess. Flawed, like the rest of us.'

Jen laughed, accepting the cup and saucer offered her. 'That's funny. I was thinking it was like
The Wizard of Oz.
You, the timid one looking for courage. Me, the shiny perfectionist looking for love. And Meg . . .'

'Must be looking for her brain,' Georgina joked gently, sipping tea. 'In a cloud of marijuana and chemical haze.'

'Exactly. Only don't let her hear you say that. Actually, I think she's a lot smarter than both of us probably. She likes to play the dippy hippy but that mind's always working, calculating the angles.'

'Or angels,' Georgina chuckled.

Jen smiled. 'Maybe I'm the one looking for my brain and she's looking for her heart. In fact, last night I decided I'm going back to college to study photography. I've always wanted to.'

'Good for you,' Georgina encouraged. 'I do wonder, though, what will become of Nutmeg. After everything we've been through together I hate to see her go.'

'Go? Go where?' Jen said, alarmed.

'Oh, drat. I'm not meant to say anything until tomorrow. She's leaving this morning. Hates goodbyes she says, so didn't want anyone seeing her off or anything. Heading back to Oregon. Said she'd write.'

'What time's her flight?'

'Around three I think.'

Jen glanced at her watch. Noon.

'Georgina. You
have
to help me.'

Meg watched the guy opposite, his eyes jerking weirdly left and right as they attempted to focus on the passing station. Zeb sat beside her playing on his PSP, their suitcases taking up most of the aisle to the annoyance of people trying to squeeze past.

You'd have thought Mace would be thrilled to get rid of her after two months taking up his spare room, but he'd actually seemed sad to see her go. Hugged her and Zeb, told them to visit any time. Maybe they did have a fucking relationship in spite of everything.

And for the rest of her schemes? Nothing had worked out the way she'd expected. There wouldn't be another dime from Irwin, that was for sure, although they had had one last lunch together in which he expressed a sort of regret, offered her tickets for his latest Broadway show, and implied that the new bride was pulling the strings. That other idea – well, for all kinds of reasons, she'd decided it wasn't to be. Or rather she wasn't going to pursue it. She grinned a little, sucking some candy that Zeb had given her. Maybe a little of Rowan's saintliness had rubbed off on her, after all. Whatever – they'd get by. She was a survivor, always had been.

And as for the whole Rowan adventure – what a wild ride that had been. The totally awesome thing was that her angel had turned out to be right – even if none of the others believed in his existence. Rowan
had
needed them – but who would have guessed they'd needed her just as much? And that they'd rediscover the closeness that had shattered the day Starkey came on the scene. Georgina had almost been in tears when they'd said goodbye. She felt bad not calling Jen, but she still wasn't sure that she'd entirely forgiven her for all the things she'd said to her in the park. Maybe she'd send a postcard from Oregon.

Jen jogged along the travelator at Gatwick, checking her watch as she went and cursing the fact that her fitness schedule had been so curtailed this past couple of months. Georgina had been a whirlwind of motion, researching the baffling number of airlines that had connecting flights to Portland, arguing over passenger confidentiality, finally tracking down Mace's office and winnowing the information from him. North West Airlines. Via Houston. Only trouble was, she glanced at her watch again, skin clammy under her layers from all this running, she was more than likely too late. Déjà vu all over again. Another feature of her old life that seemed to have haunted her recently.

She just managed to scrape into the lift to the second floor, alongside a mother with a double buggy and a couple of kids. Looking desperately around, Jen tried to focus her eyes on the big yellow South Terminal International Departures signs as she wiped sweat from her brow. Once in the main hall, she frantically searched the left-hand side of the blue screen that she'd stopped in front of for Meg's flight number.

There it was, North West Airlines. NW43. Her eyes scanned along – Boarding Gate. Damn it. No delays, take-off at five past three, Gate 27. She checked her watch again. Shit! Even if she knew which zone, it wouldn't matter. She'd be bound to have checked in already. And she would definitely have gone through security, since you had to check in two and a half hours before departure. It was hopeless.

Oh well, she made her way back through the throngs of thousands. Silly idea anyway. It was just . . . she really wanted to see her off.

Jen spooned the froth from her cappuccino. No rush to get back. Chloe was off school now, finished for the Christmas holidays and out at the park with her friend Sophie and her mum.

She watched as a plane, probably Meg's, North West Airlines at least, taxied down the runway, imagining she could see her from the window, with her little angel on her shoulder.

Gulping down her coffee, Jen stood up, and that was when she saw Meg's doppelgänger flicking through a magazine. The double they said everyone had somewhere in the world. Long red hair, aquamarine beanie hat, calf-length purple skirt and Ugg boots.

It couldn't be. Georgina had said . . . But it was. For once the great, 'I might not always be right but I'm never wrong' Giordani Carrington had definitely been wrong.

Jen skipped over and tapped Meg on the shoulder, looking past her as she did, realising she wasn't alone. Leafing through a comic was a boy around Chloe's age. He was wearing a rucksack, his hair dark brown and cropped short. He looked nothing like Meg.

The American woman did a double take, then shrieked and hugged her.

'I thought you were on your way to Portland.' Jen grinned.

'Change of plans.' Meg grinned back. 'Talked to Herb this morning. We lucked out. He sent me a ticket to Bangkok. Might as well get some sun before we head back to that damp Oregon winter. Zeb,' she steered his shoulders so he was facing Jen, 'this is Jen. She was my best friend at school. Say hi.'

'Hi, Jen,' he said in a twangy American accent. He held out his hand and shook hers solemnly. Jen was arrested by his eyes. Unmistakably familiar. So dark they were almost black.

'Here, honey.' Meg emptied her purse with shaking hands on to the table. 'Do me a favour, go check out the souvenir section. Pick up something nice for Poppa and Imee. Oh and get yourself some gum.'