‘I’m sure they’ll be back,’ Felicity says. ‘Shall we just sit down?’ She gestures to the bench and Alice laughs; she seems nervous, somehow, not quite her usual confident self. She keeps darting little glances over at Nathaniel, who meets every one of them with a reassuring smile. Wow. She has got it bad.
They sit down; Alice budges the girls’ handbags up a bit, moves an empty glass out of the way and sits opposite the pair of them, fumbling for another cigarette, needing another nicotine hit already. Felicity and Nathaniel are both smiling at her, their eyes wide, their cheeks flushed with that giddy, strange look people get when they’re in love. She wonders when the last time Tom looked at her like that was, and finds she cannot remember. The thought makes her feel unbearably sad.
‘Nathaniel is a doctor,’ Felicity tells Alice, which she already knows, but she forces herself to smile at him, pull herself together. Tom will be here soon and then they’ll straighten everything out, have a talk about it all, the Hackney flat, their relationship and the way it feels like it’s floundering even though Alice cannot put her finger on why. Felicity is her friend, she’s excited; Alice can’t let anything get in the way of them meeting Nate when Flick is so clearly besotted.
‘Do you specialise at all?’ Alice asks him politely, and he nods, tells her that he’s an A & E doctor, specialising in major trauma.
‘God,’ she says, ‘that must be full-on.’ Felicity frowns slightly and Alice can almost sense her nerves radiating across the pub table; how badly she wants them to get along. Interesting that Felicity has picked a man with the same occupation as her father, she thinks. Michael is a doctor too, though he retired early after Diane died.
‘Amazing, though,’ Alice says, quickly, ‘doing a real job, you know, one that makes a difference.’
Nathaniel smiles, and Alice can’t help noticing the way his mouth crinkles at the sides, the way his eyes absorb her, as though he’s genuinely really interested in what she is saying. It’s the way she wishes Tom would look at her.
‘Aren’t you a teacher?’ he asks, and she coughs slightly on her cigarette, lifts a hand to waft the smoke away from them. She ends up blowing it towards them by accident; Felicity coughs dramatically, but Nathaniel pretends not to even notice. He has manners, too, then.
‘Well, yes,’ she says, ‘I am. Sorry about the smoke.’ Alice looks away, embarrassed.
‘Nothing more worthwhile than education,’ he tells her, clasping his hands together on the table, nodding as though to emphasise how strongly he agrees with his own words, and Felicity beams. Alice can’t quite work out whether it’s her she’s proud of, or him.
‘Isn’t Tom coming along tonight, Al?’ Felicity asks, and Alice rolls her eyes at her.
‘He’s late, I guess.’
The tip of her cigarette burns orange in the gloom.
There’s a brief pause, and Nathaniel must catch the flicker of something in Alice’s words, because he stands up, clears his throat, and offers to get them some drinks.
‘That would be great,’ Alice says, ‘thank you.’ She fumbles for her debit card but he waves her away, insisting that these are on him. A good job too, seeing as, as usual, Alice is broke. They’ve just paid the rent and it always leaves her a little short, every single month. She slides the plastic back into her wallet, breathes a sigh of relief.
‘Wouldn’t be making a very good first impression on Felicity’s friends if I didn’t even buy them a drink, now would I?’ he says, smiling down on them. And then he’s gone, and both of them twist their heads to watch him walk away, into the pub. Like puppets on strings, Alice thinks.
Felicity is on her immediately and her enthusiasm makes Alice laugh, cracking her grumpy exterior at Tom’s continued and persistent absence.
‘So?’ she says, her hair swinging down around her face as she leans in close to Alice, grabs her hands. ‘What do you think?’
Alice grins at her. ‘He’s lovely, Flick, you know he is. Not to mention bloody gorgeous.’
She smiles, self-satisfied, the cat that got the cream.
‘I really like him, Alice,’ she says, and her voice sounds suddenly serious, surprisingly so.
‘That’s great!’ Alice says, wanting to lighten the mood again, and Felicity nods, but her eyes are far away, as though she is lost in thought.
‘I want it to be different this time, Al, I really do. I think this is it, you know.’
Alice resists the urge to snort; Felicity has a habit of being dramatic, and this would not be the first time she’s pronounced undying love to someone she’s only known for a matter of weeks. Still, she’s her friend, so Alice indulges her. What’s the harm, really? She ignores the tiny voice in her head that says she ought to know how much harm the wrong relationship can cause.
‘Well, maybe it is, maybe it isn’t, Flick. He seems great, really, he does, but you know what you get like.’ She means it kindly. ‘Don’t get – carried away.’
Alice expects her friend to roll her eyes and laugh, groan that she knows Alice is right, that she does have form for throwing herself head-first into love affairs, but she doesn’t. She frowns at her, and Alice feels her fingers stiffen slightly in her own.
‘This is different, Alice, really it is. I’m in love. He loves me too, I know he does.’ There is a note of uncertainty in her voice; perhaps cruelly, Alice picks up on it. But she doesn’t mean it cruelly – she is just attuned to Flick and her feelings; after all, they have known each other for so long. Alice doesn’t want to see her get hurt. After what happened to her poor mum, she deserves to be happy.
‘Has he said so?’ Alice keeps her voice light so that she won’t read anything in it; airy, judgement-free, but perhaps because of the wine she’s already drunk she doesn’t quite manage it, and it comes out sounding mistrusting, as though Alice doesn’t quite believe her.
Felicity reddens, just a little, under the glow of the heater. And then it goes off, plunging them into a chill, and Alice has to remove a hand from underneath hers to reach out and press the button that turns it back on.
‘Well, not in so many words, not exactly, but I know he does, Al. I’ve never felt anything like it before – this thing between us, it’s electric. I feel like I’m fully awake for the very first time, you know, as if everything is heightened. The world is in Technicolor! You must know what I mean.’
Alice doesn’t tell her that she is merely spouting clichés, phrases her Year Six English class could dream up. She just squeezes Felicity’s hands and tells her that it’s wonderful, that she’s so glad Flick has met someone so perfect. She tries not to sound sarcastic.
‘He really is perfect, you know.’ Felicity moves away from Alice, runs a pale, elegant hand through her long hair, presses her lips together. She’s wearing a ruby red-coloured lipstick; one of the expensive Chanel ones, Alice bets. She looks utterly, inconceivably beautiful, and for a moment Alice feels it; the horrible smack of jealousy, the sickly worm of it writhing in her stomach. She’s right, to all intents and purposes – Nate does seem perfect. He’s here, isn’t he? It’s more than Tom’s managed; Tom, her boyfriend of two and a half years, whose only duty is to be here with her, and he can’t even manage that.
Speak of the devil. As if on cue, a shadow is thrown over them both, and Alice looks up to see Tom standing over them, wearing his hoodie and tracksuit bottoms. He’d promised her that he’d come here straight from work, but clearly, there has been time to go home first. He knows she hates that hoodie – he looks like a sulky child, a fifteen-year-old compared to Nate’s shirt and slightly loosened tie.
‘Tom!’ Felicity squeaks, and she stands up and throws her arms around him, obviously overcompensating for Alice’s own stony silence and lack of greeting. She watches the way Felicity presses herself against him, her curves fitting his body perfectly before breaking away.
‘How are you?’ she says. ‘We thought you weren’t coming!’
‘Held up at work,’ he says, and he grins b
ut it doesn’t meet his eyes. ‘Hi, Alice.’
Alice takes a deep breath, be nice, be nice. She wanted to make things right between them and here he is, he’s right in front of her, but somehow all the rage she’s been feeling over the last few weeks is just bubbling up inside of her. She knows it will make her say something she’ll regret so she stands and gives him a quick kiss, just a peck on the lips, before telling them both that she’s going to find Grace.
‘Pint while you’re at it?’ Tom says, taking her seat and smiling broadly at Felicity. The two of them have always got on well, but let’s be honest, what man doesn’t like Flick? Something cold curdles in Alice’s stomach and she turns away from them both, leaves them in the courtyard, the sound of their easy chatter ringing in her ears as she quietly disappears.
She’s become quite good at that.
Hannah
Having almost made her way to the front of the throng of people at the bar, Hannah is surprised to see Grace by the door. She looks as though she’s about to leave; her coat is on, and she’s moving quickly, pushing her way through the throng of people – this pub has always been popular, especially on a Friday night when everyone’s making up for the lost time that is dry January – and her mouth is set in a thin, determined line.
Hannah glances at the bar – she is so close to the front, and she’s been waiting for almost ten minutes. The barman nodded at her a few seconds ago – an I’m coming to you next gesture. But Grace looks upset; she can’t just leave her.
‘Grace!’ Hannah tries to shout across to her, but the Red Lion is too big and the sound of her voice gets completely absorbed in the loud music the pub is playing, the bubble of people’s laughter and chatter. The woman next to her looks irritated, probably because of Hannah bellowing in her ear, and wincing, she gives up the thought of a drink and makes her way out of the bar queue, to where Grace is standing, her repeated requests for the man in front of her to move falling on deaf ears.
Hannah catches her by the arm.
‘Grace?’
She spins, and the sight of her face up close shocks Hannah. She is pale, and Hannah notices that she is sort of quivering, her body vibrating against hers very slightly, almost imperceptible if you weren’t one of her oldest friends, if you didn’t know her quite as well as Hannah does. Beads of glistening sweat line her top lip, her anxiety physically pushing itself out of her body.
‘Where are you going?’ Hannah says, confused, and Grace makes a face at her.
‘Sorry,’ she says, ‘I’m actually not feeling well. I think I’m going to head home.’ Her eyes look watery, as if she has been crying.
Hannah blinks at her, one hand on her stomach. It’s instinctive, somehow, even though she knows it’s pointless, now.
‘To Peckham? But, Grace, that will take you ages. I thought you were going to stay over at mine. You and Allie.’
She doesn’t say anything, Hannah can almost see her mind frantically trying to think of something to say, another excuse. She touches her nose, licks her lips. She can tell when Grace is lying; always has been able to, right from when they were young. A vein stands out in her forehead, a fine blue line bisecting the skin.
‘Come over here,’ Hannah says, concerned, trying to push her own problems aside for a minute, leading Grace over to the corner, near the fire, where it’s a little bit quieter. Someone has just put a log on; the flames crackle and spit, and Hannah watches as an ember lands on the scuffed wooden floorboards, flares briefly, then dies.
‘What’s the matter?’ she asks Grace, her voice low, trying to maintain eye contact even though she seems to deliberately be looking anywhere but at Hannah.
‘I don’t feel well, Han, I told you. Sorry, sorry to be a downer but I think I’m coming down with something.’
‘Really?’ Hannah puts a hand to her forehead; she does feel a bit cold and clammy. ‘Well, look, shall I give you my keys? Chris is in anyway, he can let you in if you like?’
The thought of Grace and Chris making awkward small talk in her kitchen almost makes Hannah laugh, but she pushes the idea away. She hasn’t made up the sofa or the camp bed yet, was planning to do it when they all got in, but she could text Chris and ask him to do it. Not that he will be in the mood after what’s happened, but he’s bound to play along, sort her out.
‘No,’ Grace says quickly, and Hannah feels momentarily rebuffed – is the thought of spending time with her partner really that bad?
‘Sorry,’ Grace says, ‘I just really need to be at home, Han. Could you do me a favour? Could you get my handbag? I left it outside with the others.’
Hannah stares at her, incredulous. ‘What? Why don’t you just come and get it quickly, it’ll take two seconds? Don’t you want your phone, your stuff?’
Grace shrugs, and when Hannah peers more closely at her, to her horror she sees that her friend is almost on the verge of tears. Droplets glisten on her eyelashes, threatening to spill down her cheeks. There is definitely something Grace isn’t telling her.
Hannah feels a wave of sympathy for her, despite her own feelings tonight, and she puts out a hand and touches Grace’s arm, trying to pull her towards her.
‘Oh, Grace, what is it? You can tell me, really, you know you can. What’s up?’ It’s almost exactly what Hannah is longing one of them to ask her, but none of them has.
‘Nothing,’ she mumbles, but it’s pointless; her face is ashen, coated now with a sheen of perspiration. Hannah has never seen her like this.
‘Well, then, don’t go,’ Hannah says, smiling at her, trying another technique. Tough love, as her grandmother used to call it. ‘Felicity wants us all here, you know she does. You haven’t even talked to her new boyfriend yet. You know, the sexy doctor.’ A pause. She waits.
‘Come on, you know she’d do it for you,’ Hannah says, and she can see the guilt in Grace’s face, the struggle between doing what she wants, and being there for one of her best friends. As Hannah waits, a sound begins behind her, and she looks to see a young mother, a baby in her arms, her face harassed as she rocks her child, whispering to him, begging him to stop crying, to please stop crying. Hannah’s insides tighten, and around her, the pub seems to blur a little bit so that all she can see is this woman, this woman and her child, as if the two of them are the only people in the entire bar. The beams of the pub seem to close in around her, the space growing smaller and smaller. The baby in the stranger’s arms stiffens and for a moment is silent, but just as Hannah sees her features begin to relax, the child begins again, its mouth a gaping dark wound in its face. Wet tears are puddling on its little yellow Babygro; his cheeks are soaked. The woman catches Hannah staring at her and mouths an apology, then freezes as she sees her expression. She’s expecting Hannah to wave it away, no doubt, to smile reassuringly and tell her they’ve all been there, that universal understanding between women with screaming babies, but Hannah doesn’t. Instead, she glares at the stranger, furious. What is she doing, bringing her newborn to a crowded, dank London pub? She should be at home, looking after it, rejoicing in her luck.
Something inside Hannah unlocks.
She needs a drink.
She seizes her chance as Grace hesitates, taking her arm and beginning to tug her back towards the bar. Hannah wants all at once to drown out the sound of the incessant crying, and the relentless buzz of her own thoughts that are growing louder and louder the more the child screams.
Grace looks defeated and small as Hannah drags her to the bar, but she ignores it, beaming at Grace as she whips out her credit card.
‘Two gin and tonics?’ Hannah says, and Grace nods mutely as Hannah flashes a smile at the barman. It’s a relief to be away from the mother; she feels her shoulders loosen. She shouldn’t have looked at her like that. Judged her so quickly. She’s probably a wonderful mum. It isn’t her fault that she has everything Hannah wants but hasn’t got. It isn’t anyone’s fault but her own.
The gin and tonics arrive and Grace takes hers immediately,
her fingers grasping the bowl of the glass like a child picking up a Tippee.
‘Blimey,’ Hannah says, as Grace tips back her neck and drinks, in long, urgent gulps, and she sees Hannah looking and frowns.
‘The only way I can stay is by getting really drunk,’ she says, and Hannah thinks she’s joking, but then sees that her mouth is set in a straight, grim line, and she’s already flagging down the barman, asking for a refill even though Hannah herself hasn’t had the chance to even take a sip of her drink.
Hannah’s phone buzzes in her pocket and she fishes it out, sees Chris’s name lighting up the screen.
Are you OK? Please can we talk about it?
And then another text, straight afterwards.
This is happening to me too. You can’t just shut me out, Hannah.
And a third, this time with only a singular word.
Please.
Hannah ignores them all, and reaches for her glass.
‘Well,’ she says to Grace, ‘cheers to that, eh?’
Chapter Sixteen
Alice
Nathaniel and Tom are sitting next to each other, with Flick and Alice opposite, laughing away together as if they are all on some big, fun double date. It would only be if you looked closely that you’d see the chinks in their armour, the cracks in the picture. The way Tom won’t really meet Alice’s eye; the way Nathaniel laughs at her jokes but her own boyfriend doesn’t; the way Felicity keeps checking to see whether Nate and Alice are getting along. The speed at which Alice drinks her glass of wine, and then another, and then another, until the edges of the world rub off. Nate brought a bottle back from the bar, which was probably a mistake, though very generous of him; Felicity beamed when he brandished it.
At some point, Felicity and Nathaniel get up to go to the bar again – though God knows why they both need to go, perhaps their oxygen runs out if they happen to get separated – and Tom and Alice are left alone. He’s still on his first pint, sipping it miserably, and Alice feels a rush of spitefulness towards him.
The Wild Girls Page 18
