by Jane Fallon
I’m taking a risk. I know I am. In three years we’ve barely exchanged a friendly word. I lay awake last night worrying about whether I was about to do the right thing. Could I trust her? In the end I decided that she disliked Roz way more than she disliked me. As the saying went: maybe my enemy’s enemy could be my friend. Well, not my friend exactly, let’s not get carried away. But maybe she’d have as much of a vested interest as I do in bringing Roz down.
Thankfully Roz hasn’t yet arrived, so I don’t have to face her. Only Juliet and Emma are in the office when I get there, so I make myself a coffee and then I decide to take the bull by the horns.
I sidle over to her desk. She’s concentrating on reading, brittle hair hanging down either side of her face like curtains. She doesn’t acknowledge me when I approach.
‘Could I have a word when you’ve got a moment?’
She looks up, watery blue eyes wary. ‘Of course.’
She gets up and follows me into my office. I shut the door after her.
‘Have a seat.’
I’m sure she wants to tell me she doesn’t have time for this, she’s busy, but I’m basically her boss now, so she knows she couldn’t get away with it. I sit down on the sofa and indicate for her to take the armchair. My heart is beating fast. Here goes.
‘Listen, Juliet, I know we haven’t always got on …’
To give her credit she doesn’t snort with laughter at that understatement.
‘… but I need help with something and you’re the only person I can think of that I can ask.’
I look up at her. She’s looking right at me, expressionless. ‘OK.’
‘I’m going to tell you something and I’d really appreciate if you would keep it to yourself.’
I have no way of knowing if I can trust her or not, but I’m all out of other options.
‘It’s about Roz …’
I tell her all about the things that have been happening at work. The notes and messages, that it was she who tampered with the story conference documents and Juliet nods along as if none of this is news to her. Then I remind her about Roz and Hugh’s wedding photos and the gift we all clubbed together to get them. About Roz’s constant boasting about the parties and dinners and Hugh’s job and their fabulous house. I even break my self-imposed rule of secret keeping and tell her about Roz confiding in me that they’d broken up.
And then I hit her with the big one. Dee’s revelation.
Her first reaction is to laugh nervously as if this might be a trap. And then her cheeks flush even more pink than usual, and she says, ‘I don’t get it.’
‘Neither do I,’ I say. ‘It’s just … it’s weird.’
‘So, everything she’s bragged about all these years, it’s all made up?’
I nod. ‘Seems like it. Oh, and she went to a posh school, not the rough comprehensive she’s always on about.’ I realize as I say this that, to Juliet, Brighton College is probably not a posh school. It’s just a school.
She brays a horsey laugh. ‘Ha! All those comments she’s made about me.’
‘Please don’t say anything to her.’ I suddenly realize I should have stressed this more. Got her to sign something in blood. Having Juliet go and throw everything I’ve just told her in Roz’s face would not be helpful at this point.
‘You’re asking me to do you a favour now?’ She sits back and crosses one leg over the other.
Shit. This is a mistake. But I know Juliet’s not a vindictive person. ‘Juliet … look, I know we’ve never got on …’
This time she does snort. I swallow. Plough on.
‘… What I mean is I know I’ve never been very friendly towards you. And I’m sorry for that.’
‘Nothing to do with me. You never exactly gave me a chance,’ she says. It’s true that I just accepted Roz’s word for it that Juliet wasn’t someone worth bothering with. Although she never pressed the point it was obvious all the same that my befriending Juliet would have made me an enemy of Roz.
‘I know –’
She interrupts. ‘Because God forbid you’d risk upsetting Roz by being civil to someone she doesn’t get on with.’
‘I’ve always been civil,’ I say, and then wish I hadn’t. Now is not the time to be defensive. ‘Scrub that, you’re right. I’ve always been a cow to you and I can’t change that.’
Juliet tuts. ‘It’s OK, Holly, I’m not asking for an apology. So let’s just cut all the crap. Why are you telling me this?’
I sigh. ‘Because I don’t know who else to tell. That’s the truth. She’s been trying to lose me my job and I can’t expect you to care about that but I need to try and work out a way to get her to stop. Because clearly the whole apology was meaningless. It was just her way of trying to stop me retaliating.’ I look up and see that Roz has walked into the main office. I feel as if I’ve been caught with my hand in the cookie jar. She looks over at me and raises an eyebrow as if to say ‘What’s she doing in there?’ and I pull a face that I hope says ‘Wasn’t my idea’.
‘So I assume her scripts going missing was you retaliating?’
I nod, embarrassed. ‘It was stupid. I just felt I had to do something.’
‘You know I wanted the job too?’ she says.
I nod. ‘But, one, you were upfront about it – don’t you think it’s odd that she didn’t tell anybody? And, two, I don’t think you’re the type of person to hold a grudge when you didn’t get it.’
‘Lord, you’re giving me compliments now. You must be desperate.’
Outside Roz waves as she leaves again, presumably for the kitchen or the Ladies. I know I have to concede defeat. Karma has come back to bite me. There’s no way Juliet is going to help. ‘Look … it was stupid to involve you. I get it. I’ll find a way to handle her on my own. But I really would appreciate it if you’d keep it to yourself. Can you at least give me that?’
‘Who would I gossip to?’ she says, standing up. ‘It’s not as if I have many friends here.’
Later Roz appears at my door. Shuts it behind her. Drapes herself over the armchair. ‘What was she doing in here earlier? You looked like you were having a very intense conversation.’
I’ve prepared for this. ‘Oh, she just has a problem with one of her eps. You know what she’s like, she wanted to go through every little detail …’
Roz yawns. Stretches. She’s not interested enough in Juliet to probe. ‘Do you fancy a drink? We haven’t had a good catch-up for ages.’
No, my brain is screaming. I want to go home to my lovely flat. I want to watch TV with my cat on my lap, eating something unhealthy. Or even share a bottle of wine with my lodger. Anything but this. But I know that the more I keep Roz onside the less she’ll suspect I’ve rumbled her.
‘Love to,’ I say, smiling and reaching for my jacket.
26
At her suggestion we walk past the nearest pub and on to a smaller, altogether nicer one two streets away. I’m relieved we won’t risk bumping into Lucinda and Janet. If I’m going to give up an evening I at least want to know I can use it to pump Roz for more information without having to listen to someone drone on about their toyboy.
There’s an empty table in the corner, near an – unlit – fireplace nook, so I nab it while Roz fetches a gin and tonic for me and a glass of red for her. I quickly remind myself what I’m supposed to know – that she and Hugh have split up and she has had to move to a temporary flat; and what I mustn’t admit to – that she and Hugh were never together in the first place and so the beautiful mews house never existed, or, if it did, she never lived there, and that Hugh isn’t the successful man she says he is. I need to drink slowly so I don’t accidentally say something I shouldn’t. I decide to play the sympathetic friend and let her do all the talking.
‘So, how are you coping?’ I say when she puts the drinks down. She rips open a packet of crisps and lays them on the table between us.
‘Oh … you know … shit.’
I help myself to a crisp. ‘Hav
e you spoken to him at all?’
‘We’ve emailed about the practicalities. Nothing else.’ She takes a long sip of her drink.
‘Not to sound mercenary but I’ve been thinking – you’re married, he can’t just keep the house and not buy you out. Or not put it on the market so you can split the profit at least.’ I watch her carefully as I say this but she seems unruffled. She’s a good actress, I’ll give her that.
‘The thing is he owned it before we got together. It’s his.’
‘Gosh, did he? But, anyway, I don’t think that matters. I think, legally, when you get married you both just co-own everything.’ I have no idea whether this is true or not but I doubt she does either.
She hesitates. ‘Right. Well, our solicitors will know, I guess.’
‘Because that would make a massive difference, wouldn’t it? I mean, you’d be left with easily enough money to buy yourself a really nice flat. Unless there’s a mortgage to pay back …’ I remember her slipping into the conversation once how lucky she was that she and Hugh didn’t have to worry about anything like that when I mentioned my own repayments. I’d been green with envy.
She clearly remembers too. ‘No. He bought it outright. But I don’t want any of it. I can look after myself.’
How noble. ‘That’s crazy, though. At least don’t do anything hasty.’ I think I’ve pushed her enough on this subject. I need to move on.
‘I won’t.’
If someone had really just recently lost their husband of more than two and a half years, out of the blue, and been chucked out of their beautiful family home, I imagine they might want to talk about it ad nauseam given the chance, but no. Not Roz. She wants to talk about the fact that she’s decided Joe is not someone we should be friends with.
‘I like him,’ I say, because I do. Joe has done nothing wrong except distance himself from Roz and Lorraine because, I assume, he found their bitchiness unappealing.
She scowls at me. ‘Haven’t you seen the way he sucks up to Glen?’
‘Does he? He looks to me like he just gets on with his job.’
‘Well, that’s because he sucks up to you too.’ Four young lads at a table next to us suddenly roar with laughter at something, and one of them slams his glass down emphatically. ‘Let’s go outside for a bit. I need to smoke.’
Really all I want to do is cut my losses and go home. I don’t think Roz is going to offer up any new pieces of the puzzle tonight. But I’m worried it will look too pointed to leave after just one drink, so I agree reluctantly and leave her to go outside and claim a table, while I get the drinks in.
In the small garden out the back it’s warm, courtesy of the two patio heaters. The papers have been promising an early heatwave but tonight there’s drizzle in the air so we edge under the cover of a large parasol. We’re the only people desperate enough to brave the elements.
Roz puffs raspberry-flavour vapour in my direction. ‘How’s the lodger?’
‘Actually really nice,’ I say, pulling my jacket tighter round me. ‘Quiet. Clean. I hardly know she’s there.’
‘Exactly what you wanted,’ she says.
I nod. ‘But I like her too. So that’s a bonus.’
‘And how’s Ashley doing?’
Roz knows about Ashley’s pregnancy of course, but not the latest development, her opting to be a single mum. I don’t feel comfortable confiding in her any more so I just say, ‘Good,’ and leave it at that. It must be obvious to her that we haven’t regained our easy way of chatting for hours at a time, but I’m at a loss for what to talk about. I can’t remember how we used to fill the silences. When I think about it now all I can remember is Roz’s bragging and our collective bitching about our co-workers. Was that really all our friendship was based on? I feel embarrassed that that’s how I used to spend my time. Looking for weaknesses, giggling in corners, making people feel uncomfortable. Mean girls.
‘So, did you notice Juliet’s mum jeans today?’ Roz says now as if to prove my point. ‘I mean, all that money and you end up wearing something that looks as if you bought it in Asda.’
‘I don’t think she has loads of money.’
She scoffs. ‘Like Mummy and Daddy aren’t rolling in it.’
I have no reason to believe she actually knows this and, even if she somehow does, Juliet is my age, forty-three; I doubt her parents are giving her cash.
‘I have no idea. Maybe she’s just not bothered about fashion …’
‘Clearly.’
‘… some people aren’t, who cares?’
Roz gives me a look. ‘Don’t tell me you’re starting to like her now?’
‘No! God.’ I don’t want her to think I’m no longer her ally. ‘I just couldn’t give a fuck what she’s wearing. I prefer not to think about her at all.’
‘Well, there is that,’ she says, mollified. ‘But, even so, next time she wears those jeans have a look. I swear, George at Asda. She definitely has the hots for Glen, you know.’
I don’t believe this for a second. I actually have no idea what Juliet’s personal preferences are. Not even whether she’s gay or straight, let alone whether she has a significant other at home. It strikes me that this is a bit sad. I’ve worked with her for three years and I know nothing about her. But assuming she’s straight I can’t imagine her lusting after Glen and his well-manicured beard. He’s just not … well, he’s just … not. It would be like fancying a Play School presenter. Just, wrong.
‘Do you think? Eew.’
She puffs out another cloud. ‘Totally. Have you not seen the way she’s always agreeing with everything he says in the meetings?’ She sits up straight, sticks her chin out. An impression. ‘Yes, Glen. Oh, do you think so, Glen? Would you like me to ride you like I used to ride old Dobbin when I was a girl, Glen?’
I can’t help myself; I laugh. ‘Grim.’
She exhales. ‘I told him that I made a mistake about you nicking my notes, by the way. I said I found them in the studio room, that I’d forgotten I’d been working on them down there.’
‘Oh.’ It’s a relief, there’s no doubt about it. ‘Thanks. I appreciate it.’
27
It’s the weekly meeting and the ritual of us all having to listen to Roz’s tales from the weekend has begun. Except that Juliet and I know that she’s making it all up, Joe doesn’t want to hear it anyway and Glen is only half listening, reading something on his phone, so that just leaves Lorraine. A loyal fan base of one.
I actually managed to have a nice weekend. Now my mind is made up that I’m going to go all out to bring Roz down I feel calmer than I’ve felt in weeks. No more angsting. No more trying to see the good in her. Fuck it. I’m anxious to put things in motion, although I have no idea what. So, on Saturday afternoon I texted Dee: Can you come over later?
She texted straight back. Gav’s home so promised him a takeaway. You’re welcome to join us.
Usually I would refuse. I didn’t want to intrude on one of Dee and Gavin’s rare nights in together, but I had to offload on someone and I still don’t know Hattie well enough to sound off at her.
I sent her a message back. Lovely. Be there at 7. I’ll bring booze xx.
It had been a while since I’d spent an evening at theirs, but much longer since Gavin had joined us. If he’s not away with work he usually makes himself scarce. Takes the opportunity to see one of his mates, or go to the gym.
We sat in the living room of their Kilburn flat, the middle floor of a three-storey house in a residential road, the two of them squashed on to the small sofa and me in the armchair. Gavin is a big bloke. Not fat, but everything about him is large. He’s six foot three for a start. His legs stuck out into the small room, almost reaching to where I was sitting opposite. His arms, thrown out wide across the back of the couch, stretched from one end to the other. I couldn’t imagine living with someone who takes up the whole room like that.
Dee and Gavin’s flat always smells slightly of candles. Dee loves a candle. I have lai
n awake at night worrying that she’s going to burn the place down after she’s had a few drinks. Judging by tonight’s delicious aroma I assume the flavour of the night is some kind of citrus.
The room is full of knick-knacks. Not in an old lady kind of way, but eclectic stuff they collected on their travels. A row of wooden toys from Norway, a beaded wall hanging from Turkey, a puppet from Venice. They used to spend months planning the perfect trip, finding hotels that were off the beaten track even in places that were rife with tourists. Earmarking weird and wonderful local sights that were not to be found in the guidebooks. It struck me, sitting there, that they haven’t been away for a while. In fact I couldn’t remember the last time.
Gavin recounted his run-in with Hugh for my benefit. I wanted to hear it first-hand. His grey eyes were sparkling as he told the story and Dee kept looking from him to me and back again as if to say ‘Can you believe it?’ I could see how proud she was of the fact that he’d actually pulled it off.
‘So, he definitely knew who she was?’ I said.
‘Yes. I mean, he didn’t say “Who?”, he just said they’d never been together in the first place.’ He reached to the coffee table for his beer. I had come bearing two four-packs.
‘Did he seem surprised?’
Gavin thought for a second. ‘Now I come to think about it, not particularly.’
‘Which says to me that he knows she makes this stuff up …’ Dee chipped in. ‘So this has happened to him before. As if Gav’s not the first person to ever make that mistake.’
‘And what was he like?’ I was curious to know what made the object of Roz’s fantasy life so special.
‘Oh, your average Adonis. Tanned. Rippling abs under his T-shirt. That type.’
I snorted. ‘You looked under his T-shirt?’
Gavin laughed. The whole room boomed. ‘Trust me, I could sense they were there.’
