by Jane Green
Eventually she reaches the table and envelops me in a warm hug, apologizing profusely for being so late. ‘I was in the middle of a script for the new series,’ she laughs, ‘and I was so carried away I had no idea what time it was.’
‘Don’t worry,’ I say, not bothering to add that I only had a limited lunchbreak and already I had pretty much used it up, travelling all the way to Kensington.
She orders a sparkling mineral water and pulls a packet of Silk Cut out of her bag, lighting her cigarette with a tiny platinum lighter that is so smart it could only belong to her. ‘So,’ she says. ‘You look wonderful.’
‘You liar,’ I laugh, because my hair is back to the wild woman of Borneo, and I’m in my usual old black gear today, saving my pink sweater and grey trousers for the date.
‘No, seriously,’ she laughs. ‘I mean, you looked completely fab the other night, at Josh and Lucy’s, but you didn’t really look like you.’ My face falls. ‘No, no,’ she says quickly, ‘don’t be offended, but sitting here now, with your curly hair and no make-up, this is the Cath that we all know and love.’
‘So what do you think I should do for my date with James?’
‘Be yourself. Make-up and hairdressers are lovely for special occasions, but this is you, this is the Cath that he first fell for, so why change anything?’
I start to laugh. ‘Portia! That’s all well and good, but look at you, for Christ’s sake! You’re immaculate!’
‘But that’s different.’ She rolls her eyes. ‘Didn’t I ever tell you that my mother says I emerged into the world wearing high heels and lipstick? The nurses at St Mary’s couldn’t, apparently, get over it.’
I laugh with her, but she can see there’s something in my eyes and that all is not completely well, and to be honest, as excited and nervous as I am, I still can’t get over the feeling that I’m standing on the edge of the precipice and I’m really not entirely sure I’m ready to jump.
‘What’s the matter?’
I sigh for a bit, then try to explain the way I feel. How I’ve managed to protect myself by surrounding myself with people I know and trust and love, and that anything outside of that group feels very dangerous, and very frightening, feelings I’m not used to.
‘I do understand,’ she says, smiling, when I’ve finished my halting explanation. ‘Better than you might think. I know what it’s like to want something very badly but to be too frightened of going after it because it feels dangerous. But Cath, I don’t need to tell you of all the good things you could be missing out on by not going through with this. I’m sure Lucy’s already told you.’
I smile, because of course Portia’s right.
‘But you know, if this helps at all, I’ve always thought that the one thing I would regret more than anything else in life is to reach the ripe old age of, say, eighty, look back on my life and think, “What if?” What if I’d done something differently, what if I’d followed my heart? What if I hadn’t ended this love affair, or that love affair?
‘And you know, even at thirty-one, I have regrets. There are things I wish I’d done in my twenties, things I wish I’d said to people, and things’ – her eyes become increasingly wistful – ‘I wish I hadn’t said, hadn’t done.’
‘It’s not too late, though? You’re only thirty-one, Portia,’ I laugh, trying to lighten things, aware that what she has just said is an almost exact echo of what James has already said to me.
‘I don’t know,’ she sighs, then pushes a smile on to her face. ‘I can’t turn the clock back, but hopefully I can right some wrongs, and who knows, maybe even give myself some happier endings…’
There’s a silence for a while, and eventually I pluck up enough courage to say tentatively, ‘Portia, when you talk about righting wrongs, we’ve never talked about those days.’
‘Those days?’
‘When we were all at university, and then, after that night, with Josh, how we all lost touch.’
She laughs. ‘Oh that. That was nothing. I was just a silly little girl demanding some attention, and there’s nothing to talk about.’
Relief seeps through me. ‘Do you know, I’ve thought about that for years, I always felt guilty that we all drifted apart after that.’
‘Cath, it was a long time ago and I can barely remember it. Really, it’s not necessary to apologize. It’s over. Forgotten.’
‘But then we met that guy who knew you…’ I trail off, aware that I’m getting nowhere, that Portia has always had an extraordinary ability to shut down when a subject is becoming uncomfortable, and this is what she’s doing now.
She smiles and shrugs, and I know from days of old that it’s the end of the subject: she won’t talk about it any more, but God, I’d love to know what she meant about giving herself some happier endings, and right what wrongs? The only person she wronged back then was Matt, and he isn’t around any more, at least not in our lives.
‘How’s the bookshop going?’ Portia asks, expert in changing the subject.
‘Fantastic. Truly unbelievable. I’m loving every minute of it, but poor Lucy’s working like a demon in the café bit and she’s absolutely exhausted. And then, to make matters worse, she got home the other night to find that evil little Max had drawn a picture of the family at nursery or somewhere, and instead of drawing Lucy he’d drawn Ingrid.’
Portia starts to laugh. ‘Oh God, sorry,’ she says, seeing that I’m not laughing. ‘I mean, that must be awful for her, particularly because Ingrid’s so gorgeous. I can never understand these women. Aren’t they just asking for trouble by employing some stunning Swedish blonde as an au pair girl? Particularly when they’re out working late every night.
‘I just always think that the easiest thing in the world would be to turn to the au pair for a bit of comfort during those lonely evenings. Especially when she looks like Ingrid.’
‘Well, no possibility of that,’ I say. ‘First of all, Ingrid’s the prize bitch from hell.’ Portia arches an eyebrow in surprise. ‘Oh, come on, you saw her the other night, she’s a nightmare, and as far as I can see her only saving grace is that Max loves her. Anyway, despite what you may think, Josh adores Lucy.’
‘Does he?’ Portia looks interested.
Now at this point it occurs to me to have a little gossip about Josh and Lucy passing like ships in the night, but, however tempting it might be, it really wouldn’t be fair to Lucy, so I mentally zip the lip and decide that no matter what Portia says I will not be drawn.
‘God, yes! Josh can’t keep his hands off her. Really, it’s quite ridiculous, I mean after all these years together you’d think some of the passion would die, but if anything it’s the reverse.’
I’m not entirely sure what makes me go so over the top, but something in my gut tells me it’s the right thing to be doing, so I go with it and add just a little more to be on the safe side.
‘They didn’t strike me as being particularly affectionate to one another,’ Portia says, after considering what I’ve just said. ‘They obviously have a good working relationship, but it struck me that perhaps the passion had gone. Oh well, I must have been wrong.’
‘God, definitely. In fact Lucy was saying the other night that she’s completely exhausted because she’s working like a dog and then as soon as she gets home Josh wants to jump her.’ I wasn’t planning this last bit, but too late, it’s already out there.
Portia looks surprised, and then she smiles. ‘I like Lucy, you know. She’s not at all what I expected, as you know, but I’ve surprised myself by how much I like her.’
‘Everyone adores Lucy, she’s wonderful.’
‘Hmm,’ Portia says, and sits back as our rocket and Parmesan salads arrive. ‘She’s certainly a wonderful cook. That food was amazing. Oh God, I haven’t even asked about Si. You said on the phone they’d broken up. How is he?’
‘He’s probably about three quarters on the road to recovery,’ I tell her. ‘Hopefully about to come out of isolation and join the real world again
.’
‘Maybe when he does you’ll all come to me for dinner. How does that sound?’
‘Would you cook,’ I say doubtfully, remembering her inability to even make a toasted cheese sandwich at university, ‘or would it be catered?’
‘Don’t be silly, darling. Catered of course.’
‘In that case it sounds fantastic,’ I say, grinning, and she laughs, and I realize that although Portia will never be a proper replacement for Si, I’m having a good time here today, a much better time, in fact, than I thought I’d be having, and when Portia says, at the end, that we must do this again soon, I find myself agreeing.
*
‘I’m back!’
‘From where? Ibiza? Majorca? South Beach?’
‘Oh ha bloody ha. From the land of lamenting and feeling sorry for myself. Oh, and by the way, I could kiss you for the videos. So clichéd, but absolutely perfect for squeezing out the last few tears.’
‘Oh, Si, I’ve missed you.’
‘I know, sweets, and I’ve missed you too. So, what’s been going on since I’ve been gone? Has Portia run off with Josh yet?’
‘Si! That’s a terrible thing to say!’
‘Joke, joke.’ A pause. ‘Well, has she?’
‘God, Si, you are incorrigible. Of course she hasn’t, although – ’
‘Although what?’ he snaps, just in case I’m withholding some vital gossip from him.
‘Although I did have lunch with her last week, and she was saying that she wouldn’t be surprised if Josh ran off with, wait for it, Ingrid! Can you believe she said that? Ingrid!’
‘I can actually.’ Si’s not laughing. ‘She was probably just testing the waters to see if Josh has it in him to be unfaithful, checking to see whether he flirts with Ingrid or anything.’
‘But Josh so isn’t the type.’
‘Not with Ingrid, no.’
‘Meaning?’
‘If Portia is after Josh, and I still think it’s a distinct possibility, then it would make her job a hell of a lot easier if she found out that he’d already had an affair or two during their married life.’
‘Well, I don’t think that. When we had lunch she said that she had regrets, and she hoped she could right some wrongs and maybe give herself a happy ending, or something like that.’
‘Uh oh. Doesn’t sound too good to me. What does she mean by right some wrongs?’
‘I know, that’s what I’ve been trying to figure out. The only person I can figure out that she actually wronged back then was Josh, but it was so long ago, surely it’s all water under the bridge now?’
‘I just don’t know. What about Matt? Now that would be weird,’ Si laughs. ‘Can you imagine if Matt turned up as well?’
‘Maybe she’s still in touch with him, it’s the one thing I keep forgetting to ask.’
‘Nah, I’m sure she would have mentioned it. So, sweets, how about a movie tonight?’
‘Oh, Si, I would have loved to, but I can’t.’
‘You can’t? You can’t? Why on earth not? Don’t tell me that in the three weeks since I’ve been away you’ve discovered a social life?’
‘Charming. I see your hibernation period didn’t sweeten your acerbic tongue. Actually, I’ve sort of got a date…’
‘A what?’
‘Well, Lucy’s calling it a date, but it’s probably not, it’s just that James and I are going out for supper.’
‘Oh my God! Oh my God!’ I can hear Si doing a little victory dance at the end of the phone. ‘How? When? Where?’
‘Well, he called and then I called him back and then we chatted and then he said how about supper.’
‘So where are you going? What time is he picking you up? He is picking you up, isn’t he? What are you wearing? Oh my God! What are you wearing?’
I start laughing.
‘Tell you what,’ Si continues, ‘why don’t I whizz over and help you get ready? I promise I won’t embarrass you, and if I’m not gone by the time he comes over, I’ll hide in the bathroom.’
‘I know I should say no…’
‘See you in ten minutes!’ he whoops, and the phone is slammed down.
‘Jesus Christ,’ I say as I open the door to Si, laden down with bags.
‘No, but I might be about to perform miracles,’ he says, with a grin that tells me Will has been well and truly forgotten. He drops the bags and strokes his chin, studying me in the manner of a mad professor. ‘I seem to recall your hair being gorgeously straight and glossy not so long ago,’ he says, ‘and I knew it wouldn’t last so… tah dah!’ and he pulls something out of one of the bags. ‘I’ve brought the hair irons and the latest de-frizz serum.’
‘Nope.’ I shake my head. ‘Si, I love you and I know you mean well, but I talked to Portia about this and she thinks that, rather than wear make-up and straighten my hair and everything, I should just go au naturel because that’s how James knows me and he obviously likes me like that, so why pretend to be something I’m not.’
‘Bollocks to that,’ Si says, squeezing past me and whipping out the plug of my bedside lamp, replacing it with the hair irons. ‘She’s just jealous because she’s not happy, and if she’s not happy then she doesn’t want anyone else to be happy either. She was always like that. You looked beautiful the other night, and we’re going to make you beautiful again now.’
‘Si,’ I say uncertainly, ‘are you sure?’
‘Never been more sure of anything in my life. Now hand me that green bag, it’s got the make-up in it.’
‘Make-up? What the hell are you doing with make-up?’
‘Remember Angel? The drag queen? I thought I’d keep the make-up as a little memento. I knew it would come in handy someday,’ and with an evil grin he sends me off into the bathroom to wash my face.
Chapter twenty
‘Oh, come on, James,’ I laugh, ‘I don’t look that different.’ He’s standing on the doorstep and his mouth is hanging open as he stares at me.
‘James?’
He shakes his head. ‘Cath, I’m really sorry,’ and he peers at me closely. ‘It is Cath, isn’t it?’ And he grins.
‘The new Cath,’ I say. ‘Improved, I hope.’
‘You just don’t look like you,’ he says uncertainly, and my face falls as I realize that Portia was probably right and why the hell didn’t I listen to her? I suppress the urge to run into the bathroom and scrub my face of all this gunk, and we stand awkwardly for a while on the doorstep.
‘You know,’ James says finally, ‘I think you actually look very lovely, it just takes a couple of minutes to get used to.’ I relax and ask him if he wants to come in, praying he’ll say no because Si is, as promised, lurking in the bathroom.
‘Just for a minute or two,’ he says. ‘We’re only slightly early for the table.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘It’s a surprise,’ he says, and jumps at the sound of the toilet flushing. Shit. I knew Si wouldn’t be able to lurk quietly until we’d gone. Sure enough, the bathroom door opens and Si strolls out, pretending to be surprised to see us both sitting there.
‘Hello,’ James says, with the good grace not to look the slightest bit shocked.
‘Oh, I thought you’d both gone.’ Si’s wide-eyed and innocent look doesn’t fool me for a second. ‘Lovely to see you again, can I get you a drink?’
‘Actually we were just leaving,’ James says, as I gratefully smile and run off down to the bedroom to grab my coat.
‘What are you doing?’ I hiss at Si, who follows me in to tell me to behave myself. ‘You said you’d lurk quietly. That’s the last time I ever let you come over when someone’s coming to pick me up.’
‘Is that all the thanks I get for helping Cinderella go to the ball?’ Si tries to look hurt.
‘Come on, you’re leaving too.’
I tell Si not to take his bags with because I don’t want to have to think of an explanation for what’s inside them, so he leaves them in the bedroom, ready to be c
ollected the next day, and the three of us walk out together.
‘Have a lovely time, children,’ Si shouts as he climbs into his Beetle. ‘Oh, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!’ and with that he revs the engine and zooms off.
We drive through London, chatting quietly, although it’s hard to hear over the sound of the windscreen wipers swishing through the October rain. I twist my body in the passenger seat so I can look at James’s profile, and I marvel, despite not having done this for years, at how familiar this whole scenario is, how going on a date hasn’t changed since I was a teenager.
I remember twisting my body exactly like this to talk to dates before. I remember the whole feeling of sitting in a darkened car, filled with nerves, apprehension, excitement, because neither of you yet knows what the rest of the night will hold.
We seem to be driving for ever, on the Westway, down to Hammersmith, over to Putney, and eventually into Barnes, where James pulls over and parks the car, and we walk round the corner to a chic little French restaurant.
‘I hope this is okay,’ he says nervously. ‘I thought of somewhere big and trendy, but the problem with those places is you can hardly hear yourself think, and I used to come here a lot when I lived in Hammersmith and I thought it would be perfect and the food’s delicious.’
I realize that he’s talking so much through nerves, and the realization that he’s as nervous as I am makes me relax, and I smile my approval as we walk through the door.
We are shown to a corner table, secluded, discreet, and, although it is in Barnes, outside the trendy epicentre of London, the rest of the clientele look surprisingly smart, and I feel an overwhelming burst of gratitude to Si for doing a number on me, because I’m quite sure I would have been intimidated had I not had glossy locks and shining lips.
‘Is this okay?’
I smile at James. ‘Better than okay. It’s perfect. To be honest I avoid the big, trendy restaurants you mentioned like the plague. Si drags me to them once in a blue moon, but this is much more my scene. I can hear what you’re saying, for starters.’
‘Good. I’d offer you champagne, but you don’t strike me as a champagne type. What would you like to drink?’
