She sounds so sad. ‘It is worth a try,’ I tell her. ‘Like you say, there’s nothing to lose.’ I’ll back any plan that might cheer her up.
But Nick is shaking his head. ‘It’s really not a good idea, June. Think about it. You do still have your pride right now, because you haven’t been in touch. You’re better off leaving it rather than make it worse.’
Now I’m shaking my head. ‘It can’t be any worse,’ I say. ‘They’re already not together and she’s obviously miserable over it. I’d do it if I were you.’ I appreciate Nick’s concern, but I don’t think he grasps how badly June feels. ‘Put yourself in June’s shoes, Nick. Or think about if it was us and I suddenly stopped answering your calls for no good reason. Wouldn’t you try anything to talk things through? Why shouldn’t June?’
‘Because I’m not— You’re not— Really, seriously don’t, June. Just trust me, it’s not worth it.’
‘How can it not be worth it?’ she asks. ‘If it means we could get back together, then of course it’s worth it.’ She laughs. ‘What’s a little dented pride, right?’
Nick’s look is pure misery. ‘You’re much better off without him. Please believe me. I know what he’s like. Callum isn’t worth you wasting any more time on. I know the guy. He’s bad news.’
We both stare at Nick. What does he mean: he knows Callum?
Then he says, ‘I didn’t realise I knew who he was until dinner, otherwise I promise I’d have said something way before that night and saved you all of this.’
Little warning bells are sounding off all over the place. ‘What’s that supposed to mean: that you’d have said something before that night?’ Because he didn’t say anything to June that night, did he? This is the first she’s hearing of it. That means… ‘Who did you say something to that night? What did you do, Nick?’
‘How do you know him?’ June asks.
‘It doesn’t matter. I just do, and he’s horrible to women.’
‘What did you do?’ I ask again, fighting down the sick feeling building inside me.
‘I had to… talk to him,’ he mumbles. ‘It was for your own good, June, please believe me. He’d have dumped you later anyway. That’s what he does. It would have hurt more when he did it later.’
‘You put him off me?’ June says, with tears building in her eyes. ‘All this time I’ve been blaming myself, obsessing over what I did wrong. I thought maybe I’d said something, or that he got tired of me not ringing him back. I thought maybe Phoebe was right and he thought I’d tricked him into liking me.’
I flinch. ‘I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.’
She waves away my apology. ‘But you’re the one who ruined my relationship? Nick? You?’
‘I’m so sorry, June,’ he says. ‘I should have told you.’
‘No, Nick, wrong,’ she says. ‘You shouldn’t have meddled in my relationship!’
He goes towards her, but freezes mid-step when she glares at him. ‘June, please understand. I did it for your own good.’
‘That was not your call to make.’ Then she crosses her arms. ‘Can I assume that whatever you said means that my ringing him now will do no good?’
‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘That’s exactly the wrong thing to do.’
She deflates. ‘Because it’ll just prove what you told him. Because you knew I’d spent months convincing him that I wasn’t clingy.’
Any other time, the anguish in Nick’s face would make me desperate to comfort him. ‘No,’ he says. ‘Because he hates anyone who actually likes him. That’s what pushes his buttons.’
And thanks to Nick, he pushed the ejector button on June.
This can’t be right. Nick can’t have hurt my best friend like this. It’s a mistake.
‘Then I proved you right by ringing him a million times.’ She shakes her head. ‘Well done. You’re an effective assassin.’ With that she heads for the door. ‘No, thanks, Phoebe,’ she says when I start to follow her. ‘I don’t want to talk right now. Later, yes, just not right now. Though you might want to talk to Nick,’ she adds ominously.
Oh, yes, I definitely do.
‘I know this sounds really bad,’ he says as soon as I start to speak, ‘but I was only thinking about June. I should have told you as soon as it happened, but June was with us in the pub after.’
I stare at him. ‘Just so you know, that sounds like such B.S.,’ I tell him. ‘What would you have said to me if June hadn’t been there? I’ve just scuppered your best friend’s relationship and oh, by the way, shall we get some crisps with our round? You might have ruined my best friend’s future. How could you do that to her and then go ahead and… do this with me?’ I still can't believe that this is Nick. Nice, caring, sensitive Nick who, let’s face it, I am definitely in love with.
He makes a what-are-you-talking-about face. ‘But my feelings for you have nothing to do with that! Except that I was watching out for your friend. Phoebe, I wouldn’t have said a thing if Callum wasn’t such a horrible man. He was going to hurt her.’
‘All right, let’s say that, in theory, you really did have June’s best interests at heart. Then why didn’t you tell her and let her make the decision to dump him if she wanted to? At least then she wouldn’t have blamed herself all this time, thinking she’d done something wrong.’
He closes his eyes. ‘Because then I’d have to get into how I’m so sure about him, and that’s… complicated. But I am one hundred per cent sure, Phoebe. I wouldn’t have said anything otherwise. I couldn’t tell June directly. I just didn’t want you to find out I’d done it, to be honest.’
I glare at him. ‘It seems to me, Nick, that being honest is the last thing you’ve been. Now please get out of my kitchen. I don’t want to see you.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Please just go away.’
June and I have our heads together, whispering in her office, when Sophie knocks. ‘What’s going on?’ she says, seeing our pitiful faces.
June hasn’t been shy about her feelings over what Nick has done, but she’s not making it personal, or even suggesting that I have a go at him. She’d never ask me to punish someone because of her, even when he deserves it as much as Nick does.
‘Nothing,’ we both answer Sophie. The residents shouldn’t have to listen to us go on about our sad love lives. That’s why we’ve got each other. Nick’s convinced I’ll never speak to him again, and he’s totally miserable about it, which might give me some satisfaction if I could stop feeling so sick.
It’s at times like these that I really wish Mum was here. She was never great on the empathy front, but she knew what to do in a crisis. Mum was a doer, and I need some of that right now.
‘How can I help?’ June asks Sophie. Ever the professional, even when everything is crumbling.
‘Yes, thank you,’ says Sophie. ‘I want to join the DIY club.’
She’s hardly about to do any renovations dressed like that. It looks like a new frock, or at least one I’ve not seen before. That’s possibly because we haven’t had any tea dances here. On her short frame, the burgundy taffeta flows past her shins, and its nipped-in tailoring even gives her a bit of a waist.
But it’s not our business what the residents wear in their own home, so neither June nor I make any comment. ‘Oh, well, it’s not an official club, through me, I mean,’ says June. ‘I haven’t got anything to do with it. It seems to be Terence’s brainchild.’
Sophie nods. ‘Can you please come with me to ask Terence? I think I’d be an asset to them.’
Only if you define an asset as someone getting in the way while trying to flirt.
‘You mean, officially? I can’t.’
‘I mean unofficially, as my friend.’
‘Of course we will,’ I say. ‘Right? Unofficially.’ Despite Sophie’s motives, the more we can encourage the women and men to mix, the better it will be for the home. They’re still acting like they’re living on the border between the Koreas.
‘Damn it,’ Sophie mutters. ‘Ignore her.’
As if we could.
‘Where are you going?’ she demands. ‘To join the He-Man Woman Hater’s Club? That’s quite an outfit for the garden. Unless you’ve been invited to the Queen’s.’
‘You look lovely,’ Laney says, stroking Sophie’s silk-clad arm. ‘Are we having a party?’ Her look becomes troubled as she stares at her high-tops. ‘I’m afraid I don’t have any dresses. Maybe I could borrow one of yours?’
Dot might be snippy to Sophie, but she’s ever-so patient with Laney. ‘No, remember I told you? This–’ she points an accusatory finger at Sophie ‘–is all for the men.’
‘Shame on you,’ Sophie exclaims. ‘You claim to be a feminist. Can’t a woman dress the way she likes? And, not that it’s any business of yours, but I happen to be very good with tools.’
‘I’ll bet you are,’ Dot snaps. ‘Sophie, you must see that you’re being ridiculous.’
Sophie wheels around on her heel at that. Her pale powdered face is very close to Dot’s, but the older woman isn’t giving an inch. ‘No, Dot, you’re the one being ridiculous. You’re acting like the men are your sworn enemies when all they’ve done is be born with a Y chromosome.’
Dot looks like she’s about to say more but clamps her lips shut. ‘You’re making a fool of yourself.’
‘We’ll see about that,’ says Sophie.
Dot is right about Sophie’s outfit. Her heels aren’t a good idea on the soft lawn. She only manages to make it to the greenhouse by mincing on her tiptoes. The men see us coming, of course. They are sitting in a building made of windows.
A few stand up when Sophie reaches the door, but Terence’s look lands them back in their folding chairs.
They’ve cleared nearly the whole space inside, piling the bags of compost neatly along one wall to make room for the half-dozen chairs arranged in a circle. There’s a narrow table pushed against the long side for seeding and potting and the makeshift kitchen. The teapot is still steaming on the camp stove. And Nick has fashioned a rack to hang all the tools above the lawnmower.
‘Can we help you?’ Terence asks.
Sophie must have used up all of her nerve on Dot, because she’s surprisingly meek when she answers him. Her lashes flutter behind her thick glasses. ‘I just wondered if there’s anything I can do for the DIY club,’ she nearly whispers.
‘No, thank you,’ he says.
‘Oh.’
‘But didn’t you tell me this was a voluntary club, Terence?’ June says. ‘Sophie is volunteering.’
‘We’ve got enough volunteers,’ he says. ‘See? No more chairs.’
‘We could easily bring one from the house,’ I suggest. Sophie might be about as useful to them as a hammer made of noodles, but I’m not about to let her be bullied away if she wants to join them.
Terence puts his hands in his pockets. Now I know he’s about to be horrible. ‘The thing is, you wouldn’t enjoy it. It’s not only looking at paint swatches, you know. It’s electrical and plumbing and demolition.’
‘No demolition, Terence,’ June reminds him.
‘This is man’s work.’
I’m about to tell him about our resident, Ann-Marie, who was a plumber for thirty-five years, but Sophie is nodding like that’s a perfectly sane statement. ‘Well then, maybe you could use some of my tools? Some are quite technical. They’re just collecting dust.’
June and I look at her. I’ve never seen Sophie use anything more complicated than a hairdryer.
Terence laughs. ‘I think we’re fine with our own hammers.’
‘Shame,’ she says, ‘it’s all just sitting in self-storage. I should probably sell it. I understand that Makita has a good resale value.’
‘They were your husband’s?’ Mr Campbell asks.
‘No,’ she laughs. ‘I loved him to bits, but he was hopeless. He wouldn’t know which end to plug in. I did all the work in our houses. Not the building work itself. I was never good at bricklaying, but the first- and second-fix plumbing, electrics, conduits and cabling, dry-wall… drains and pipes, doors and windows… built-in shelving, kitchen installation. I did all those. Let’s see.’ She’s run out of fingers. ‘Decorating, of course, that’s easy.’
‘You did all that?’ June says. ‘Well done, Sophie!’
She smiles. ‘These muscles didn’t only come from aerobics, you know. It’s cheaper taking the courses to do it yourself than paying someone else. Hey, do-it-yourself. I guess that’s exactly what I did. So, you might be able to use the tools? You’ll know how to use them all, won’t you?’
There’s an embarrassed rumbling amongst the men as they admit that Sophie might actually be quite useful in the club.
‘By the way, your windows need a good cleaning,’ she says as we go. ‘You can hardly see through them.’
‘Feel free any time you like,’ Terence calls out.
‘Not flipping likely,’ she mutters. ‘I’ll be too busy doing the work that you lot can’t.’
Chapter 22
If only I could get over what Nick did to June, then I know (I hope!) it would stop this sick feeling in the pit of my tummy. He thinks I’m only being snippy to hurt him, but I’m not doing it on purpose. It’s hurting me too. Every time I think about it, the rage wells up inside me. How could he have sabotaged June like that?
The hardest part about the whole sorry situation is having the disappointment of dashed relationship hopes piled on top of all this fury. The weight of that is what hurts most: the idea of everything that could have been, if Nick hadn’t torpedoed my best friend’s happiness.
Don’t think I can’t hear myself. I know it sounds like an overreaction. After all, June is a big girl. She can take care of herself and fight her own battles. I know that, but it’s how Nick went about the whole thing that, no matter what I tell myself, I can’t let go. What a monumental lapse in judgment to put off Callum instead of warning June. If only he’d done that instead, then June could have made up her own mind and she wouldn’t have felt like such a loser when Callum ghosted her. It was disloyal, and that’s so out of character that I never thought I’d say it about Nick.
There’s something else too. Maybe it’s because I’m doubting everything now. I did believe Nick when he told me that there’s nothing between him and Tamsyn, but watching them through fresh eyes, I’m not so sure. After all, he didn’t tell me what he did to June until he had to. How do I really know he’s been truthful about Tamsyn? Especially when she’s constantly hanging on him? Maybe I’ve been deluding myself all along. I wanted so much to believe him.
How I hate these suspicions.
I know what Mum would say. Just ignore him. She had an incredible ability to pretend that tricky situations didn’t exist. She could blank a person until they not only started wondering whether she really saw them, they also started wondering if they were actually there at all.
I might have to deal with Nick invading my kitchen for more coffee – he’s going to develop heart palpitations if he keeps up this schedule – but at least in the book club it’s easier to ignore him with the others around.
We’re getting to the really juicy bit in Pride and Prejudice, when the secrets are starting to come out. June is skipping this week, which is a relief since Mr Bingley has just thrown Jane over in the story and it doesn’t take an Austen scholar to see the parallels with June’s very own Mr Bingley. If I were Nick, I’d be squirming.
He might be. I don’t know because I’m definitely not looking in his direction.
‘This is the sad bit!’ Laney says. ‘I don’t like it when Lizzy rejects Darcy. He’s so obviously in love with her.’
‘That’s a brilliant scene, though,’ says Sophie. She’s wearing her gown again, though I’m glad to see that she gave up on the heels. ‘I love when Lizzy listens to Darcy putt
ing his foot in it. “His sense of her inferiority – of its being a degradation – of the family obstacles which judgment had always opposed to inclination, were dwelt on with a warmth which seemed due to the consequence he was wounding, but was very unlikely to recommend his suit.” As if anyone would give him the time of day after that! It’s an empowering scene, not a sad one at all. You can’t feel sorry for Darcy after he’s been such a, a—.’
‘Wanker,’ I say. Although I’m not sure I’m talking about Darcy.
‘I do feel for him, though,’ Laney objects, ‘because he’s so tortured. Even though I know it’ll be a happy ending.’ She clamps her hands over her mouth. ‘Am I allowed to say that?’
Dot laughs. ‘We’ve all read it many times before.’
‘Or seen one of the films,’ Nick adds, which just makes me think of Tamsyn.
Maggie half raises her hand to speak. ‘It’s a well-used literary tradition to put impediments in the way of the protagonist’s goals. If it was easy for her to get what she wants, then the reader wouldn’t be invested in the story.’
Maggie keeps glancing at her notebook as she speaks. Sometimes she flips through the pages to make her points, but mostly it seems enough just to hold the notebook.
That was Laney’s idea. ‘You’d never give a lecture without jotting down some notes, would you?’ she had asked when Maggie resisted. ‘You’re expected to come prepared for those things. Well, we have to be ready for book club too, otherwise we can’t talk about the book. It’s just common sense.’
That’s what convinced Maggie to come back.
I’m glad that none of the others know what happened between June and Callum (and Nick). It’s uncomfortable enough picking apart Darcy’s meddling in Jane and Mr Bingley’s affair without having to talk about how much like real life the book is turning out to be.
Everything was going along fine for Jane and Bingley, or so Jane thought, until, one day, Bingley scarpered off to London and out of her life. That was Darcy’s fault. He’d warned off Bingley over Jane’s feelings (though for indifference rather than neediness), leaving Lizzy rightly furious at Darcy for it.
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