Cate’s face crumples. ‘This isn’t about you, Mum.’
‘Oh, isn’t it?’ Anger radiates from the woman in thick waves. ‘You think that when I have to walk into work tomorrow and face my colleagues that this doesn’t affect me? You don’t think that the fact that my neighbour has seen my daughter’s body, flaunted about like some prostitute . . . you don’t think that affects me? You don’t think it’s about me when I’m the one who has to explain to your Great-Aunt Edith why everyone’s gossiping, or to little Ellen why Aunty Cate – whom she loved and looked up to – is all over the internet with her clothes off?’
‘Mum, I just didn’t think—’
‘That’s your problem, Catherine. You have a rush of blood to the head and you don’t think.’
Cate seems to shrink into herself. ‘You’re right – you’re totally right. I’m so sorry, Mum. I just don’t know what to say.’
‘Neither do I,’ says Liz, clutching her bag to her chest. ‘All I know is that I’m having to come to terms with something I never dreamed was the case.’
‘Come to terms with what?’
She glares at Cate with hard eyes. ‘The fact that my daughter is a dirty slut.’
Chapter 39
It is no surprise that Cate doesn’t come to salsa, given that she currently refuses to eat, sleep or move from her flat. But she’s not the only one avoiding the place. I get a text from Stella as I’m almost at the door of Casa Lagos. Not coming tonight. Trying to work a few things out. x
I stop walking and compose a reply. Hope everything’s OK? x
The second I’ve pressed Send, my phone rings and Stella already seems to be talking, clearly desperate to get a few things off her chest.
‘The answer to that question is not exactly,’ she breathes. ‘I found a text on Mike’s phone yesterday. I know who he’s been meeting.’
‘Who?’
‘Lulu. The text was as clear as day: Hi darlin! See you at 8pm tonight – usual place?. Then xxx. Three kisses. Not one but THREE.’
‘Lulu?’ I repeat, incredulously. ‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m certain – I confronted him about it and he came out with some crap about one of his colleagues wanting to start a dance class, and him meeting Lulu to put them in touch. It was absolute bollocks. I just don’t believe him.’
It’s been months since Mike came to the salsa class, but now I think about it I can’t deny that Lulu did seem to be giving him special treatment; I said to Cate at the time that she’d taken a shine to him. I never thought for a moment that there could have been more to it than that – but I must admit I’m at a loss to explain the text.
‘So . . . where does that leave you?’ I ask.
‘With the wedding, you mean? Good question. Am I really going to marry a big fat cheating liar?’
‘Oh, Stella . . .’
‘I don’t know what to do, Lauren,’ she goes on, the words catching at the back of her throat. ‘All I know right now is that I can’t be there tonight, otherwise I might walk over and punch Lulu bloody Mitford in her pretty little face.’ I hear a door slam. ‘I need to go. Can I phone you this week?’
‘Of course. In fact, come over if you want someone to have a glass of wine with,’ I reply, despite feeling less than qualified to be an agony aunt for Stella or anyone else.
‘I might,’ she says hastily. ‘Thanks, Lauren.’
When the call ends, I push open the door of the restaurant and see Will and Joe on the other side of the room, chatting to Andi and Luke. Will looks up, spots me and marches over, his face full of questions.
‘Is Cate coming tonight?’ he asks.
‘No, I don’t think so. She’s having a bad time of it,’ I reply. His jaw clenches. ‘I believe you know about the picture.’ It’s not a question.
‘I think everyone does, don’t they?’ he says stiffly.
‘Will, it’s awful. It was her ex-boyfriend Robby who posted the picture. He hacked into her Facebook account.’ This is clearly news to Will. ‘She’s extremely upset and feels totally humiliated. I’m sure if you gave her a call and—’
‘Lauren,’ he interrupts. ‘I’ve tried to phone her a dozen times and got no response. Nor from my texts either.’
I lower my eyes. ‘Yes, I know. She’s in a bad way and . . .’ My sentence trails off as I look around and realise that we’re receiving some attention. It’s not obvious, just the odd lowered voice, or shifty glance. People are talking about Cate. And, in the absence of Cate herself, the focus of that attention is her best friend and her boyfriend.
‘Marion’s looking like she’s going to put us through our paces tonight,’ Joe says, appearing next to us, mercifully diffusing the tension. ‘She’s limbering up as if she’s about to run a 1500-metre race.’
‘It’ll be because Dirty Dancing was on telly the other night,’ I reply. ‘It will have given her a surge of enthusiasm.’
Joe gives a quick sideways look at Will, but he’s not listening and, instead of joining in the banter, he just slips away.
‘How’s Cate?’ Joe asks, as soon as we’re alone.
‘She’s in a terrible state. It was her ex-boyfriend who posted the picture and she’s distraught. I’ve never seen her so low.’
‘How awful for her.’ He searches my face and seems to register how worried I look. ‘Impossible as it probably feels to Cate now, this will blow over, Lauren. I know people gossip and – if you’re in the position she’s in – that’s horrible. I can’t imagine how horrible. But they’ll find something else to move on to sooner than you think.’
‘I’m not sure I share your optimism,’ I reply. ‘And I don’t think Will is as understanding.’
Joe looks surprised by this statement. ‘Will hasn’t had the chance to be understanding. The first he knew of any of this was when he logged on to Facebook and saw the picture on Cate’s timeline. Now she won’t return his calls.’
‘None of this is her fault. This is revenge porn.’
‘Of course it’s not her fault. This sort of thing is illegal and her ex-boyfriend shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it.’ I can’t exactly tell Joe why Robby very probably will – because Cate’s terrified that if she kicks up a fuss, the other pictures will come out too. ‘How was your weekend apart from that?’ Joe continues.
I search for something to say that doesn’t involve the real headlines i.e. I battled with a urinary tract infection and had sex with Edwin.
‘Uneventful.’ And then I have to look away, for fear that if he gets to see my eyes for too long, all my thoughts will unravel in front of us.
How I wished it had been him kissing me on Saturday night. How I wished it had been his skin against mine, his bed I woke up in. I cannot fully express how hideous these thoughts make me feel, especially when Emily turns up, breathless and slightly late.
It strikes me as the class begins, and Emily dances by my side, that I’d always considered myself to be a good person. A good friend. But if I was either of those things, the thoughts that keep infiltrating my head wouldn’t exist in even the most fleeting form.
Yet, despite my feelings, I’m still determined to be the person I want to be. So when Joe addresses me in conversation, even in the most innocuous manner, I answer him politely but move on and talk to someone else.
The only problem with this tactic, of course, is that my acting skills have never progressed from when I was four years old and starred as a sheep in the school nativity play. And I feel certain that Emily notices. She’s in a very odd mood tonight. Part of me worries that that is because she’s on to me. She’s guessed that I’m falling for her boyfriend.
‘All right?’ I ask, when we line up. But if I’m seeking reassurance from Emily, I don’t get it. ‘You seem a little tense.’
‘Well, I’m worried about Cate,’ she says stiffly. ‘Aren’t you?’
‘Of course,’ I reply, surprised and slightly defensive as I was the one who raced round there tonight.
&nbs
p; ‘Sorry,’ she says. ‘I didn’t mean to imply . . . oh, I’m a bit wound up about what I’ve just heard Marion saying in the loos about Cate. I quote, “Anyone who’s stupid enough to have a photo taken like that gets all they deserve” and “Never appear in any photograph you wouldn’t be happy for your grandmother to see”. Must be nice to be as pure as the driven snow, mustn’t it?’
‘What a cow.’ I scrutinise her face. ‘Is there anything else?’
‘It’s just been a tough day – and I’m not feeling great.’
‘Really? What’s up?’ It strikes me that she is looking tired. Still her beautiful self – but her skin is a little sallow, and she’s thinner than usual. Not that she had much weight to lose in the first place.
‘I think I’m coming down with something. Apart from that, everything’s fine. Thanks, Lauren. I’m just glad I’ve got Joe,’ she says, holding my gaze for the last sentence.
Yet, even Joe isn’t enough to persuade Emily to stay for longer than twenty minutes. By the break, the class has started to feel like the Marie Celeste – no Cate, no Stella, and now Emily’s disappearing early too, telling me that she just wants to go home and have a bath. She nips over to kiss Joe on the cheek and then disappears out of the restaurant.
And so we’re left to Marion’s technical melt-down: every time she tries to put on some salsa classic tonight, her music system blurts out a rousing rendition of the Can-Can – and as much as I’m enjoying these classes generally these days, I draw the line at that.
I studiously try to avoid Joe. Being around him and falling to pieces somehow feels even more treacherous when Emily isn’t here than when she is. So when Marion launches into a practice of a turn, I dive towards Frank and grab his hands. Then when she asks us for a volunteer for a new step, I scour the room and spot Esteban, who is looking distinctly miserable since Jilly stopped coming so she could attend a karate class instead. I reach for him with such certainty that I manage to get my bracelet, which is one of my favourites, tangled up in his arm hair, forcing the two of us to dance our way under a lamp to remove it without giving him a full wax job.
When the class is finished, I leave immediately, anxious to get to my car and go home. My Mini, however, has other ideas. I put the key in the ignition and am rewarded with a noise that sounds like a defective combine-harvester.
A bang on the passenger side of the car makes me start. I look up to see Lulu staring through it – then wind down the window to talk to her.
‘That sounds bloody awful,’ she points out, and I really can’t argue with her. ‘I wouldn’t try to drive that, Lauren. Are you in the AA?’
My heart sinks. ‘I cancelled it because I’m going to Singapore. Oh God, I’m going to have to get a taxi.’
‘I’d give you a lift if I could, but I’ve walked here tonight.’ She looks up in the direction of the restaurant. ‘Someone else’ll help, I’m sure. Let me go and ask who’s going in your direction.’
‘Lulu,’ I blurt out, stopping her in her tracks. ‘Can I ask you something? In confidence?’
She leans into the window of the car. ‘Of course. What is it?’
I hesitate, wondering if there’s an easy way of putting this. ‘You know . . . Mike?’
Just the mention of his name makes her freeze. ‘Yes?’
‘Stella found a text from you on his phone. And she felt a little uncomfortable about it. So she apparently confronted Mike and—’
‘Are you telling me Stella knows?’ she asks, her eyes wide. ‘About what Mike and I have been up to?’
I swallow. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Shit,’ she says, standing up and running her hand through her hair. ‘Who else knows?’
‘Just me. Sorry,’ I repeat, wondering why I’m apologising. ‘Has it been . . . going on a while? You and him, I mean?’
‘He started the lessons about a week after he gave up here.’
‘Lessons?’ I venture.
She sighs. ‘Do not tell a soul, Lauren, please. Least of all Stella. It’d ruin everything.’
‘Tell a soul what?’
She leans so far into the window that now I’m concerned she’s going to fall in. ‘I’m giving Mike private dance lessons – for his first dance at the wedding. He’s learning exactly the same routine you guys have been working on. But it has to be a secret or it will ruin everything.’
‘You’re not having an affair with him then?’
She starts spluttering as if she’s got something down her throat and needs a sturdy Heimlich manoeuvre. ‘Of course not! Mike’s not going to be having an affair when he’s getting married in a few weeks!’
‘Unfortunately, that’s what Stella suspects.’
‘You’ve got to be kidding? Why would she still be marrying him if she suspected that?’
‘Because she hasn’t got proof. And because she loves him. And she’s already paid for a four-tier fruit cake and a Jenny Packham dress.’
Lulu looks horrified.
‘I think she just hopes she’s wrong,’ I continue.
‘She is wrong!’
‘Well, she’ll be very glad to hear it,’ I conclude.
Lulu throws me a stern look. ‘Lauren, you can’t tell her. You absolutely cannot.’
‘Someone’s got to,’ I argue.
She narrows her eyes on me. ‘Swear to me.’
‘But, Lulu, it has seriously occurred to Stella that her future husband is having an affair. Surely that’s more important.’
‘She can’t really think that,’ she says dismissively. ‘Mike obviously doesn’t think so and he’s the one who’s paid all this money and put every spare minute into rehearsing. DO NOT ruin this for him, Lauren. He’d be devastated.’
I look up and see Joe and Will walking down the hill towards us.
‘Everything all right, ladies?’ Joe asks.
I’m about to say that my car has broken down but stop myself from revealing this in case he offers me a lift. ‘Fine!’
‘Apart from your breakdown,’ says Lulu.
‘Oh, I’m sure it’ll start in a minute.’
‘Go on, give it a go while we’re here. We can’t just abandon you,’ Joe says. I reluctantly sit back in the car, turning the key and praying that the engine starts. ‘I’ll get a taxi,’ I mumble.
‘No need. I’ll give you a lift,’ Joe says decisively.
‘No! It’s fine. I really don’t mind.’
‘Neither do I. Come on. I’m only parked over here.’
I rack my brains to think of an inoffensive way to break it to Joe that I want to be a million miles away from him, when he adds, ‘I’m taking Will too.’
It occurs to me that if Will’s there it’ll all be OK. ‘Well, all right then. Thanks,’ I reply, stepping out of the car and wondering how much of this pressure I can take.
There is an elephant in this Range Rover and it’s called Cate. Throughout the journey, I keep waiting for Will to mention her again, but he is resolutely silent on the issue. Which means I have to think of something else to talk about. Anything.
‘Have you seen they’re opening a new restaurant in Hawkshead? Apparently they’ve got some Michelin-starred chef up from London. Problem is, they seem to be two a penny around here these days. It wasn’t like that when I was a little girl, I can tell you. The food was all right, but I don’t remember ever going to a gastro-pub. My dad used to take us to a place in Grasmere, but it wasn’t really the done thing in those days to take kids into a pub. I don’t even think children’s menus had been invented.’
‘You must be very old, Lauren,’ Joe quips.
‘Thanks for that,’ I reply.
‘Well, there’ll be a kids’ menu at the Moonlight Hotel, I assure you,’ he says. ‘It looks fantastic: homemade fish goujons, fruit kebabs and mocktails.’
‘I thought you were going for somewhere really upmarket,’ I reply.
‘Even The Ritz has a children’s menu,’ he tells me, then hesitates. ‘I think.’
‘Do you actually know what you’re doing with this hotel?’ I can’t resist asking.
‘I’ve got a very good project manager. Gianni won’t let me down. He’s worked in all my dad’s hotels over the years – he’s fantastic.’
Will turns round and looks at me. ‘You need to go and see the Moonlight Hotel, Lauren.’
‘I don’t think so,’ I reply.
‘Well, I think you should reconsider,’ he says. ‘I’ve seen it every step of the way, right from the first time we were due to have a meeting there and ended up at this salsa class.’
‘Why were you at the meeting, Will?’
‘I just wanted an outsider’s view of the place,’ Joe explains.
‘You might be surprised if you go and see it,’ Will adds.
‘I don’t want to see it,’ I snap. ‘And I’m very happy to remain un-surprised.’
The car slows and Will unplugs his seatbelt.
‘Cheers, pal,’ Joe says, slapping him on the shoulder. ‘Have a good one.’
‘You too, and thanks for the lift.’ Then Will turns to me and looks at me, and for a moment I wonder if he’s going to ask me anything about Cate. ‘Good night, Lauren. See you next week.’
And then I’m left in the car, alone with Joe, and wondering how I’m going to stop my heart from leaping right out of my chest.
Chapter 40
I absolutely refuse to turn and look at him. Even though I’m dying to. Even though my neck muscles are on springs, pulling me in his direction. Instead, I snatch glances at the way his big, tanned hands move against the gear-stick, the way his thighs press against the seat and his muscles flex when he changes gear.
The chat revolves firmly around tonight’s dancing and, although the conversation isn’t forced, the journey seems to take for ever. I realise that the only thing that will stop my head throbbing with unwanted thoughts is to be away from him, in the comfort of my own bed, trying my best to focus on Edwin – who is now mine for the taking, after I’ve apparently worked the sort of bedroom skills that should take six months’ intensive training under Madame Sin.
The more I talk, the more I panic that Joe suspects my dark secret, that my toxic attraction to him is written all over my face. My only tactic is to try and deflect attention from it.
Summer Nights at the Moonlight Hotel Page 21
