by Beth Thomas
Eventually we find a gorgeous strapless LBD that makes me look exactly like the sexy, grief-stricken man-eater I’d been hoping for. Then it’s just a question of shoes and a bag, and we’re done. Fortunately, Ginger doesn’t know how much it all cost: there might be questions about cashflow that I’m not prepared to answer.
‘So do you want me and Fletch to bring Matt to the party then?’ she says suddenly, driving back to Mum and Dad’s.
‘Oh, yes, please, if you don’t mind.’
‘OK. I’ll see what he’s doing.’
I thought we’d settled this already and part of me wonders why she’s asked me again. But I’ve got so many other things to wonder about, I forget about that straight away. Also, I’m very glad she’s brought it up. This dress would only be half useful if Matt doesn’t come after all. Plus I really want to thank him again for everything he did for me, and buying him a drink at my dad’s party seems like the perfect time to do it. It’s a social occasion, there’s alcohol, it could almost be considered a date. In a way. If both parties wanted it to be. But the beauty of it is, if one of the parties wasn’t interested in looking at it in that way, it’s purely a thank-you drink and can be dismissed by both parties without any shred of embarrassment or awkwardness.
I can convince myself of anything if I try hard enough.
FOURTEEN
As I walk into the party at the rugby club in my new dress the following evening – actually I’m sashaying in; the dress calls for it – it’s driven home to me just exactly what a bad choice of venue this was for a genteel party full of elderly people in pastel colours and pearls. For starters, the walls are covered with photos of enormous muddy men gurning in shorts. The hallway that leads from the field back to the changing rooms and bar has more than one blood spatter up the paintwork. And when you walk in, the unnaturally high levels of testosterone in the air make everyone feel a bit territorial and aggressive. After five minutes there, I start rubbing my chin and scratching my balls.
‘What do you think?’ Mum says excitedly when we arrive. ‘Do you like it?’
I glance around. The walls were probably white once, about thirty years ago, but are now speckled with countless black scuff marks and paint chips, no doubt from decades of alcohol-induced games of ‘Let’s all throw Briggie in the air, hoorah!’ Two rows of migraine-inducing striplights ensure that no cobweb goes unnoticed; and the vinyl flooring is curling up in the corners. It looks like a party in a prison cell. In Turkey.
‘Wow. Who booked this place?’
Mum and Lauren stare at me, while Robbie sniggers loudly and says something like ‘Told you!’ before wandering off to the bar.
‘I did,’ Mum says, frowning. ‘Why?’
I shrug. ‘What’s the theme? Midnight Express?’
She smiles delightedly and squeezes my waist. ‘Ooh, love, thank you. How romantic.’
She’s not being sarcastic. She’s literally never heard of it.
‘Come on then, birthday boy,’ she says, grabbing Dad’s arm. ‘Let’s get a drink.’
They wander off into the growing melee of all their closest friends and family who have arrived to celebrate with them the joyful occasion of my dad’s sixtieth year on the planet.
‘That table’s taken, mate.’
‘Ow, you just stood on my toe, you oaf.’
‘Don’t push in, pal, we’re all waiting to get a drink.’
‘When’s Ginger getting here?’ Lauren asks, then shouts out, ‘Oi, Beefcake.’
A young man by the door scanning the room turns his head towards her, grins, and walks over. ‘All right Lola,’ he says, then bends and kisses her. I look round, yearning for Ginger and Fletch to arrive. ‘All right, Grace,’ Beefcake says, and I look back at him, startled.
‘Oh, hi, er …?’
‘Grace, you remember Justin Webb,’ Lo says, indicating Beefcake.
‘Um …’
‘Come on, he was in my year, bit of a nerd, always making Lego models of the Millennium Falcon.’
‘Oi!’ Justin says, grinning. ‘I only did one.’
‘Oh yeah.’ She turns to me again. ‘Also, like, a massive underachiever.’
‘Oi, you!’ he says again, and lightly punches her arm. ‘What you playing at?’
‘Oh I’m kidding, I know you also did the Death Star and Doctor Who’s Tardis.’
‘Yeah, too right I did.’ He turns to me. ‘Believe it or not, the Tardis was the hardest one to do of all of them. All that blue …’
‘Right,’ she says, ‘get me a drink, and ready for dancing.’ She tugs on his arm and they start to walk towards the bar.
‘Is there gonna be dancing?’ I hear him say as they move away.
‘Oh yeah. When David Guetta gets here, they’re gonna put on a Jumpstyle Trance playlist, and the laser display will start flashing.’
‘Cool.’
Over at the door I spot Ginger and Fletch arriving, so I walk quickly over with a mixture of relief to see them, and excitement that I’ll see Matt in just a few more seconds.
‘Hi Ginge, hi Fletch, really glad you’re here.’ Ginge is stunning in a halter top and silver sateen skinnies. Fletch is wearing leather trousers and a goatee. I look casually behind them both. ‘Matt with you?’
‘Oh, no, sorry,’ Ginger says, looking around, ‘he already had something else on tonight.’
‘Oh.’ Disappointment descends, layer upon layer of it settling on me in a heavy mass. Matt’s not coming. I bought this dress for nothing. He’s probably got a girlfriend. He’s no doubt gazing at her right now, madly in love. I can actually feel the weight of this let-down pulling me into the ground, dragging my head down, and it takes a lot to remain upright. It occurs to me to wonder, briefly, why I’m reacting like this, but then Ginger is taking my arm and walking me to a table.
‘Fletch, can you get us a couple of drinks please, lover?’
That’s unlike her. To say please, I mean. I look at her sharply as Fletch moves off to the bar. ‘You OK?’
‘What? Oh, yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just wanted to get rid of him.’
‘Why? What’s up? Have you had a row?’
‘God, no, nothing like that. But I’ve just seen Adam’s mum and dad outside. I can’t believe they’re here, actually.’
‘Wow, me neither.’ My heart, so recently lying face down with its arms over its head, suddenly sits up, pays attention, and starts thumping with anticipation like a dog’s tail. Ray is here.
‘God knows what she’ll do in her current state,’ Ginger is saying, and for a second, I have no idea who she means. She? But of course: Julia.
Automatically, we both look up towards the door and see a couple there just starting to come through it: him in dark navy suit, her in peach chiffon. In sync we both turn and look back at Fletch’s retreating figure, willing the crowds to surge round and close over him to conceal him from the approaching peach surprise.
I turn back to Ginger. ‘How long have we got?’
She shakes her head and bites her lip. ‘Not long. He usually gets served quickly at bars because of his charisma.’
It’s probably more to do with his height and corresponding arm length, to be honest, but I’m not saying that to Ginge. ‘What shall we do?’
She thinks for a second. ‘OK. How about you head them off, try to stop her from seeing him. I’ll stay here until he comes back, then I’ll hide him somewhere.’
I nod. ‘Good plan.’ And as well as saving Fletch, I’ll also get a chance to chat to Ray.
‘Right.’
We both stand up and before I walk towards Ray and Julia, Ginge grabs my arm. I turn and look into her eyes. She gazes at me earnestly for a few moments. ‘Good luck,’ she says, as if I’m just about to have brain surgery.
‘Thanks.’
I strike out towards them. This is it, I’m thinking, in just a few moments I might have achieved stage one of my brilliant plan, and could know something that brings me an inch nearer to knowing so
mething. I was almost sure Ray and Julia wouldn’t come tonight, couldn’t imagine them coming, but credit to them, here they are. They’re walking towards Mum and Dad, who are still dangerously close to the bar – where Fletch is – so I speed up a bit to intercept.
Then I slow down. Actually …
This is Ginger’s plan. All she wants to do is save Fletch the embarrassment of Julia’s awkward advances. It won’t hurt him, though, and I have ulterior motives, so why am I automatically going along with it? Especially now that I am new Grace, less naïve Grace, graceless Grace who does not simply accept everything she’s told. If I want to ask Ray about Ryan without Julia there, she would need to be elsewhere. Or heavily distracted. Or both. And right there, at the bar, is a heavy, leather-trouser-clad distraction. Which is a much better plan, surely?
‘Oh hi Ray, hi Julia,’ I hear Mum saying. ‘How lovely of you to come. I really appreciate it, especially since … I mean, considering that …’ She trails off, obviously reluctant to mention Adam’s scarper-y behaviour.
‘Seeing as you’ve had such a difficult time lately,’ Dad finishes off for her, and everyone sighs with relief. Well, Mum does. ‘Can I get you both a drink?’
‘Oh, yes, we’ll both have a G and T please,’ Ray says, shaking Dad’s hand. Standing a few feet away, I hold my breath and wait. All four of them turn in unison towards the bar, and there, just turning round with three drinks in his hands, is Fletch.
He freezes, like a child trying not to be seen by a caretaker, and the colour drains from his face. There’s a moment’s hiatus as Julia sees Fletch, Ray sees Julia seeing Fletch, Ginge sees Fletch seeing Julia, and Mum and Dad spot Granny arguing with Aunt Daphne about some old china.
‘’Scuse me a minute,’ Mum says, gives Dad a meaningful look, then sidles away towards the fracas at the nearby table. Aunt Daphne has just stood up so fast that her chair has fallen over. Dad watches Mum go, then glances back at the bar.
‘Oh, look,’ he says, spotting Fletch – who is now inching very slowly sideways –‘there’s Fletch.’ He turns back to Ray and Julia. ‘He’ll sort you out some drinks. Won’t you, Fletch?’ He catches Fletch’s eye. ‘Thanks, lad.’ And he scuttles after Mum.
Now I need to strike.
Julia starts towards Fletch and I start towards Ray, but before either of us reaches our goal, Ginger swoops in suddenly from the side, seizes Fletch’s arm and pulls him away, out of immediate danger. Julia stops moving and watches regretfully as her prey is snatched from her grasp and borne away to a distant corner. Then Ray catches her up and they go to the bar together. My sense of anti-climax is suffocating. Dammit.
I stand still for a moment under the weight of disappointment, wondering when such an opportunity might come again, wondering whether Fletch might be persuaded to sacrifice himself for the good of mankind, realising that Ginge would never allow it, when I sense the arrival of someone behind me.
‘How are you doing, Grace?’ a deep voice says in my ear, and an electric thrill shoots up my spine.
I turn and find Matt there in a light blue shirt and sand-coloured chinos. His hair looks different, more messy than usual, and his chin is dark with a touch of designer stubble. Yet again, acute disappointment morphs instantly into a thrill of excitement. How have I never noticed before how attractive he is? Well, apart from when he’s in his uniform, of course. That goes without saying. My insides feel like they’ve just put on the Jumpstyle Trance Mix and the laser show, and it makes my face grin all its own.
‘Oh Matt. Hi. I thought you weren’t coming.’
He grins back. ‘Well, I was supposed to be at the cinema with a colleague, but I cancelled it.’
‘Oh, no, now I feel terrible for your colleague. Will she mind?’
Yeah, I know, obvious.
‘No, not at all. He is going with a few other people anyway. I was just tagging along.’
‘Oh.’ Would he be going to the cinema with a group of colleagues if he had a girlfriend? He wouldn’t. Would he? Maybe I’ll ask Ginger later. Although knowing her, she’ll immediately tell Matt that I asked her, and then he’ll probably think that I like him. Which would be terrible.
‘So, I heard the latest about Adam,’ Matt goes on, leaning towards me. ‘Jetting off to sunnier South American climes. Ecuador, wasn’t it?’
‘Actually, most of the country has a fairly constant cool climate due to its elevation and proximity to the equator.’ I give a little smile, then cringe as the hideousness of this approach hits me. This is me trying to be flirtatious. God help me, I’m actually reciting facts from Google.
He leans back again and blinks. ‘Well, that’s interesting. Maybe that’s what attracted him there.’
‘Could be. Or maybe it’s because it’s about as far away as he can get before he starts coming back again.’
‘Well, technically, that’s not true. I mean, how far away is it? About five, six thousand …’
‘Five thousand, seven hundred miles.’ Oh dear God, I can’t stop.
‘OK, thanks. So almost six thousand. The circumference of the earth is, what, twenty-five thousand miles? So in actual fact, he’s only gone a quarter of the way round.’ He leans in and gives a warm smile. ‘Must be something there that pulled him; not something here he’s trying to escape.’
His tone of voice is so gentle and kind and I feel a huge surge of gratitude towards him. I have no idea why Adam skipped town, but if the lure of Ecuador, with its World Heritage Sites, megadiversity and Inca history, was too strong to be denied, I kind of feel less … rejected.
Eventually Matt looks away and clears his throat. ‘Shall I get us a drink?’
Julia and Ray are looking uncomfortable at a table far away from everyone else. As Matt and I reach the bar, I note with satisfaction that there are two empty glasses in front of both of them. Good. Hopefully Ray will get wasted and blab all over the place about Ryan Moorfield when I ask him. I glance at Matt, who is now leaning across the bar on his elbows, chatting to the barmaid. His shirt has rucked up a little at the back, and there is half an inch of skin showing above the waistband of his trousers. I tear my eyes away and force my head round to look at Ray again. I really must go and speak to him. In a minute.
‘Here you go,’ Matt says, smiling as he turns to me with a glass of bubbly pink wine in his hand. I smile back and take the glass. I can’t drink too much if I’m going to wheedle information out of Ray later. Matt catches my eye over the rim of his pint glass. As he lowers it, he has a creamy line of froth along his top lip. There’s no rush, I can speak to Ray later.
‘Come and sit down,’ Matt says, leading us to a table. Once seated, he looks me earnestly in the eye. ‘How are you doing? Honestly.’
I shrug. ‘I’m actually fine.’
He shakes his head. ‘Well obviously you aren’t. Your husband has disappeared without warning, dumped the car and was last seen boarding a plane to an alternative continent. No one would be OK if they found that out.’
‘But I am. It’s weird but it’s like I’m suddenly aware of how close we weren’t.’
Matt raises his eyebrows. ‘How close you weren’t?’
‘Yeah. He kept himself at such a distance from me, which I was always kind of aware of, maybe just in a subconscious way, but it’s really only becoming completely clear now. I suppose I didn’t ever feel … I don’t know … attached.’
‘Attached? That’s an odd choice of word. Do you mean, you didn’t care about him?’
‘Oh, no, no, I did.’ I hesitate and feel a pull of sadness. ‘I do.’
Suddenly I have an incredibly vivid recollection of one day last year, when I woke up to find Adam had already left for work. That familiar faint feeling of abandonment niggled at me, but then I got up and started to get ready for the day and blocked it out, as I usually did.
When I got downstairs, I found the kitchen table laid out with breakfast things – a bowl, a spoon, the box of Special K, a glass of orange juice, and a plate und
er a plastic cover. When I lifted it off, there was just a little note there saying ‘Good Morning! X’. Such a simple gesture, minimal effort, minimal time required, but it made my abandoned heart soften. Thinking about it now, and picturing him cheerfully checking his luggage in at the airport, I feel heat come into my eyes and my mouth starts to distort. I swallow a couple of times and blink rapidly. Mustn’t cry at my dad’s birthday party.
Abruptly, the image disappears and in its place I see the same breakfast table at Maple Avenue but this time the things are being put there by a two-dimensional silhouette, a nebulous shadow, flitting to and fro across the kitchen in ghostly silence. Goosebumps prick out over my skin and I shudder a little.
‘You OK?’ Matt says, peering at me. ‘You’ve gone a bit pale.’
I nod. ‘I’m fine.’
‘Well you don’t look fine.’
‘Gee, thanks.’
He puts his hands up. ‘Oh, no, no, I didn’t mean … I mean, you most certainly do look … In fact, you look absolutely …’ He stops. Blows out a puff of air. Rubs his hand over his head and rolls his eyes at the floor. ‘Smooth, aren’t I?’
‘Like James Bond.’
He nods. ‘I’ve been practising. To get it just right, you know.’
‘Good idea. It’s no good leaving these things to chance.’
He grins. ‘Anyway, if you’re sure you’re fine, would you like another drink?’
While he goes back to the bar, I glance casually around the room so that I can take another surreptitious look at Ray and Julia’s table, and am immediately panic-stricken to see that they’re no longer there. I stand up hurriedly and start scanning the room, feeling a strong urge to start running around like a mum looking for a toddler. Oh God, why didn’t I go and speak to them both together? Why did I wait? I could have spoken to them both together, I didn’t need Julia out of the way. If Ray knows who Ryan Moorfield is, then Julia will too. And if he doesn’t, then neither will she. Probably. Maybe having Julia present in the conversation would even have been an advantage, as Ray might have been distracted, worrying about what she was doing, and could have let slip something he might not have meant to say.
