Eliza snapped a selfie with the ancient inn in the background, and sent it to Will and Kit: Off to see Midsummer Night’s Dream at the Globe. Jealous?
Will replied: What the Puck? Serious attack of the green-eyed monster. Stratford’s dull as ditch water. Bring on Michaelmas.
She smiled. He was home from Italy, then. Was Kit? She missed her friends.
‘Get off your phone,’ said Rob. ‘Who’re you messaging?’
‘A Shakespeare nut, to make him jealous. He’s called Will.’
‘Of course.’
‘He’s from Stratford.’
‘Puffling pants?’
‘Definitely. Drama queen in every way. But cute.’
She put the phone away. ‘So tell me about Amy,’ she said, nudging him. ‘Who is she, what is she, how long, how serious? Leave nothing out.’
‘Who and what – a nurse. How long – quite long. How serious . . . ’ He glanced at Gil.
‘Amy’s lovely,’ said Chess. ‘Really sweet.’
‘Thought I was your favourite girl,’ said Eliza, with a pout.
‘You are.’ He grinned. ‘She’s my favourite woman.’
Chess rolled her eyes.
‘Where does she work?’ asked Eliza.
‘At Kingston Hospital. She used to be up near us, in Coventry.’ The Studleys were a Midlands family, with a sprawling old manor at Kenilworth. ‘We met when I broke my leg last year.’
He looked at his watch. ‘Time we were off, team. Starts in fifteen.’
After the play, Rob walked Eliza home. As they crossed London Bridge, the night air was tropical-balmy. Monday’s dull-grey cityscape had morphed into a romantic, prettily lit version that demanded you slow down.
‘Not so bad, is it?’ he said. ‘Now the rain’s stopped.’ They paused to lean on the parapet, looking across to the floodlit Tower of London, peering down as a party boat chugged through the arch beneath them.
‘You’re quiet, Lizzie. Everything OK?’
‘It’s just . . . I can’t help thinking about my step-mum. Caitlyn. She jumped.’
‘Oh god, I remember,’ said Rob. ‘We were – what? Twelve or thirteen?’
‘Yes. Poor thing. Who’d have guessed what was going on in that beautiful head? Dad certainly didn’t.’ Eliza turned her back on the inky water.
‘Amy . . . she’s kind of like that. Fragile.’
Eliza looked at him in surprise. ‘What, you mean she gets depressed?’
‘I didn’t know, at first . . . ’ He hesitated, looked away.
‘That must be hard. Do you live together?’
‘Yes.’ He went quiet, his eyes settling on the Tower.
Clearly there was some problem. Eliza was aware of a twinge of satisfaction; a sense of . . . possessiveness.
‘I should come clean,’ he said, turning to her. ‘You’re my oldest friend, after all.’
‘Come clean?’
‘I’m married, Lizzie.’
What the f—?
‘No. You’re kidding!’
‘It happened on holiday, in Bali. Impulse thing, on the beach.’
He held her gaze, waiting for her response.
‘But . . . how did I not know? Dad would’ve told me – and your dad, in Sydney – he didn’t say a word!’
‘He refuses to accept it. Says it’s meaningless, not legal. He hit the roof when he found out; he’s still of the generation that thinks marriages should be advantageous.’
‘So I hear.’
This was most dispiriting. Eliza acknowledged the daydreams that had been flitting around in her head, unbidden. Of nights on the town with Rob, Chess and Gil; a little summer flirtation.
‘But, Rob, you’re so young.’
‘Yep. Far too young; hadn’t even finished my internship. I do have this disappointing tendency towards impulsiveness.’ He blew out a breath. ‘Can I be honest with you?’
‘Of course.’
‘I’m kind of regretting it now. It was probably a mistake.’
Again he held her gaze, and she had a sudden inkling that the ‘now’ had something to do with her.
‘But you do love her?’
‘She’s adorable. Sweet; angelic. Not a bad bone in her body.’ He grinned. ‘Beautiful body, actually.’
‘Tsk, Rob.’
‘She’s kind of opposite to me. Quiet and . . . not very self-confident.’
‘Don’t your parents like her?’
‘Dad doesn’t approve of her at all, because she’s . . . well. Of no strategic importance. I think part of me got married as an act of rebellion. You know what it’s like, having an in-your-face dad who you sometimes just really want to piss off.’
‘Yup. With you there. So it’s a case of marry in haste, repent at leisure?’
‘In a nutshell. And now she knows I’m having second thoughts, and she’s had this depression . . . ’ He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I don’t actually know what to do, Lizzie.’
‘I’m not the best person to talk to about relationships, to be honest.’
Eliza started walking again, and Rob fell into step.
‘I remember you saying after Caitlyn died, that you’d never marry,’ he said. ‘That it only led to misery.’
‘Can’t say I’ve changed my mind. Looks like you should’ve listened to me.’
‘You still single?’ He looked sideways at her. ‘No one up at Oxford?’
‘Nope. Haven’t we just watched a play that tells us how love turns people into fools?’
Kit’s wicked grin came to mind: Terrible behaviour is also part of being human. One of the best bits.
‘I did like someone, but he’s . . . that would certainly have been foolish. Maybe I’ll meet Mr Right one day, but I’d really rather it wasn’t now, with so much on my plate.’
‘But you’ll always have a lot on your plate.’ He put an arm round her and gave her a quick squeeze. ‘You should make the most of now.’
‘Can I buy you lunch?’ said Chess on the phone, a week or so later. ‘I could do with some advice.’
‘Sure. The cafe?’
‘Actually, can we go somewhere with no ears or eyes?’
Eliza suggested the riverside bistro she’d been to with Pippa. Maria’s PA was now Eliza’s top-floor spy, and was quietly forwarding emails to Eliza’s personal email account.
Chess was scrolling through her phone when Eliza arrived. ‘Look at this,’ she said. She held up an Instagram post, and Eliza recognized her cousin Helena’s distinctive painting style. ‘I think I’ve lost my sister to Paris. She’s met a hot French guy and they’re living in a garret room in Montmarte. How sickening is that?’
Eliza sat down. ‘Following her dreams. As everyone should.’
Chess frowned. ‘Why so wistful?’
‘Oh, I guess we all have escape fantasies from time to time. People – cute men, actually – keep telling me to let my hair down. To live in the moment. Like that’s easy for me to do.’
‘What cute men? Rob?’
The waiter came to take their order, giving Eliza an excuse not to answer.
‘So. Can you guess what I wanted to talk about?’
‘Not work, I hope. Gil?’
‘Indeed. He’s popped the question.’
‘Oh! But – how long have you been seeing each other?’
‘Since March.’
‘That’s not long, Chess. Why the rush?’ She thought of Rob’s revelation. ‘You could just move in together, see how it goes?’
‘He’s quite old-fashioned.’
‘You mean his father is.’
‘Well, yes. I do see the hand of the Major in this. He seems to be assessing me on my suitability as the wife of a future politician. I don’t think he’ll be happy until Gil makes prime minister.’
‘So what are you going to do?’
Chess smiled. ‘I’m a independent, feminist career woman.’
‘You are.’
‘But I’m going to say yes.’
/> ‘What? Really?’
‘I’m also marshmallow inside when it comes to Gil. I can’t imagine anything lovelier than being his wife.’
‘Then, congratulations! He’s perfect for you.’
‘You think?’
‘Remember when we played princesses, and made up our ideal princes? Before we discovered feminism, obviously. Gil is exactly that prince you made up. Handsome, intelligent, beautiful manners—’
‘Looks good on a horse,’ said Chess.
‘Always a plus.’
Their food arrived.
‘So you don’t think I’m a throwback, or a disgrace to the sisterhood?’ said Chess. ‘For wanting to tie the knot with my true love at an unfashionably young age?’
‘You know my views on marriage. But then your dad’s only had the two wives.’
Chess laughed. ‘Seven between them, good grief. Wifeaholics. So, Eliza. Will you be my chief bridesmaid? Remember how we promised each other?’
‘I’d love to, as long as you don’t expect me to reciprocate. I’m never getting married.’
‘Of course you will!’
‘Nope. Never. I’ll write that in blood, if you want. And I’ll need a say in the dress. No frills, no pastels.’
‘Heh heh. Actually, thinking about it, Rob will no doubt be best man, so maybe making you chief bridesmaid isn’t such a great idea.’
‘Oh, I think our days of practical jokes are behind us,’ Eliza replied.
‘Hm. I didn’t mean that. I’m more worried about being upstaged, what with your pizazz and Rob’s new metrosexual look.’
Eliza smiled. ‘He has changed, hasn’t he? But I kind of miss the old scruffy version.’
‘So cute now, though. Those Studley brothers, eh?’
Eliza thought back to the heart-to-heart on the bridge. ‘Rob and I had a chat the other night. Chess – why didn’t you tell me he’s married?’
‘Ah. I was surprised you didn’t already know – you two were always pretty close. When I realized you didn’t, I thought I’d let him tell you himself. It’s a massive sore point with the Major, and his mum’s not best chuffed, either. His parents kind of ignore it – like, because it happened on a beach in Bali with some local non-Christian ceremony, it doesn’t count. But apparently it does. All legal.’
Eliza fiddled with her napkin. ‘He told me he’s regretting it.’
‘Did he?’ Chess looked concerned. ‘Gil said Rob’s always been one to act first, think later. Let’s just hope things work out.’
Eliza had a hunch they wouldn’t.
‘OK, I’ll be your bridesmaid,’ she said, steering the conversation back into its comfort zone, ‘if you promise a frill-free dress in a non-pastel shade.’
‘Gil’s talking about a December wedding.’
‘Like Dad and Janette’s Christmas wedding, remember? I demanded the bridesmaids should wear sparkly pink. What was Dad thinking, letting me get away with that?’
‘Uncle Harry’s always been wrapped around your finger. It must be hard for Maria, you’re so obviously his favourite. Hey, she called me up to her office yesterday, supposedly to see how I was getting on, but she started quizzing me about shareholdings. What do you think that was about?’
Eliza frowned. ‘I’d have thought she could easily access that information. But I don’t know why she’d suddenly be interested.’
Had Maria got wind of Harry’s intentions to round up the board?
‘I asked her when I could move on from Admin,’ Chess continued. ‘She wants me to stay where I am for now. To be honest, I’m bored witless. All I do is input stuff into a computer. Gil keeps nagging me to do something about it – so does the Major – but I’m new, I don’t want to make waves. What do you think I should do?’
‘I can’t do much about it yet, Chess.’ She thought back to the diagram Harry had drawn, illustrating who owned what. ‘I’ve got even fewer shares than you, come to think of it.’ The realisation made her uncomfortable. ‘But then . . . so has Maria.’
‘Really?’
‘But hang in there. When I’m back next year, no way will I leave you to moulder in Admin.’
‘That’s good to know.’
‘So. When are you going to let Gil know it’s a yes?’
‘No time like the present – I’ll tell him tonight. Exciting!’
Eliza was at the office early the next day and, after checking through her emails, texted Chess:
ELIZA: Did you tell him yes?
CHESS: I did! Only immediate family know so please don’t tell. Or it’s turquoise polyester for you.
Rob appeared, coffee in hand, and claimed the desk next to hers. A delicious scent – a combination of aftershave and espresso – wafted across.
‘Morning, Snow White,’ he said, swivelling his chair to face her. ‘Heard the news?’
‘I have! Chess is a happy lady.’
‘Gil is too. Man, I mean. I just hope he didn’t propose to score brownie points with Dad.’
‘Don’t ever let Chess hear you say that.’
‘We’re going to take a bottle of fizz or two over to St James’s Park after work to celebrate. You’ll come?’
‘Oh! Well, yes. It would be churlish not to. Is Amy coming?’
‘No, still working nights.’ He winked.
‘You need to speak to Human Resources,’ said Gil, topping up their glasses with Moët. ‘Or whatever ridiculous name they call it.’
‘@People,’ said Rob. ‘Who came up with that piece of corporate shite?’
‘Dad,’ said Eliza. ‘He thought it suited the Rose vibe. Idiot.’
It was a beautiful evening, and the grassy areas of the park were scattered with tourists and office workers. And lovers. Lovers were everywhere.
‘Tell them you’ve learned all you can in Admin,’ said Gil, ‘and you’re ready to make the move.’
‘I will,’ said Chess. ‘Can we not talk about work? We’re meant to be celebrating.’
Rob, lying on his stomach next to Eliza, threw a hunk of bread to a passing family of ducks.
‘Don’t feed the birds,’ said Eliza.
‘You’re not the boss of me,’ he replied. ‘Actually, you are.’
‘And don’t you forget it, or there will be consequences.’
‘Whip me?’
‘Any time.’
Chess rolled her eyes. ‘You two.’
Eliza was on her third glass of champagne after eating very little all day. People kept telling her to chill, so she’d decided to do exactly that. If she couldn’t let her hair down with these three lifetime buddies, then when could she?
‘Did you read Fifty Shades of Grey, Eliza?’ said Chess.
‘No.’
‘Liar,’ said Rob.
‘Well, yes then. But only in my capash . . . capashitty as a monitor of current publishing trends.’
‘It’s such tosh,’ said Chess.
‘Methinks the lady in grey doth protest too much,’ said Eliza. ‘Hey, Gil – have you noticed how Chess often wears grey, in many shades. Perhaps she’s trying to tell you something.’
Gil looked across at Chess. ‘Can this be true, babe?’
‘Can what be true? You haven’t read it – have you?’
‘One gets the gist.’ He grinned an evil grin, straddled Chess and pushed her down onto the grass, grabbing her wrists and saying, ‘Clink, clink.’ Then he lowered himself on top of her and said, ‘You’re mine now. You said yes.’
‘Oh my!’ said Chess, in an American accent.
Gil kissed her, and Eliza felt herself invisible-blushing as it seemed they weren’t about to stop anytime soon.
‘Awkward,’ said Rob. ‘Walk?’ He stood up and held out his hand.
Eliza grabbed it and stood up too quickly, stumbling forward into his arms. ‘Oops. I seem to be a little tipsy. I blame you. All this talk of being foolish.’
His arms tightened around her for a moment, then he took a step back. ‘Be as foolish as you lik
e, Lizzie. I promise to see you safely home. Come on.’ He grabbed an unopened bottle of champagne and their glasses.
The sun was setting, streaking the sky above Buckingham Palace with bands of gold and pink. They found a spot beside the lake, and Rob popped the cork, which flew off and landed in the water with a splash, scattering birds.
‘You’re determined to kill a duck.’
He shifted closer, until their shoulders were touching.
‘Here’s to foolery,’ he said, lifting his glass.
She clinked hers against his, sighing in contentment. Being with Rob was so easy.
‘Would you look at us, all grown up,’ she said. ‘Weird, isn’t it? But nice. Did I mention I’m so pleased you’re at Rose?’
When he didn’t respond, she turned to look at him. And registered the expression in his eyes.
Her heart began to thump.
No. Not a good idea.
He touched her cheek. ‘Is this a foolish notion, Snow White?’
‘A married man? Perish the thought.’
He smiled, and pushed her curls back from her face. ‘Crazy hair.’
Her hand took on a life of its own, and she found herself running her fingers through his silky dark curls. ‘Too much product,’ she said. ‘I think I’m probably quite drunk. Don’t even think about taking advantage.’
‘But how can I be expected to behave when you look at me like that?’
‘Like what?’
‘God, Lizzie. When did you get to be so beautiful?’
He kissed her.
Thoughts tumbled through her head.
Chess and Gil might see.
Gosh, this was nice. So . . . assured.
But . . . Rob! Her childhood playmate. Her married childhood playmate.
This was wrong.
But it’s divine.
He stopped. ‘Sorry. Probably shouldn’t. Blame the champagne.’
‘Indeed. I guess in letting you do that, I was just proving a point.’
‘What point?’
‘That I can be foolish. I hope Chess and Gil didn’t see.’
‘I think they know, Lizzie.’
‘Know what?’
‘How I feel about things. About you.’
‘Me?’
‘That mistake I made suddenly feels a whole lot more serious.’
His eyes were pulling her under. She turned her gaze to the lake, the birds silhouetted on the water as dusk deepened. A chill had crept into the air.
Sister to Sister Page 8
