Summer at Tiffany's

by Karen Swan

  Hang on . . .

  She sat upright as she realized she had derailed herself with the sex-face joke. Why was Kelly drinking water? Surely there could only be one reason?

  Her eyes scanned her old friend with new critical faculty – looking for bloating around the jaw, a flush in the cheeks, a secret in her eyes. Without saying a word, her hands covered her mouth. She didn’t even need to ask.

  ‘What?’ Kelly asked, panic in her voice. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

  Cassie just shook her head, her hands still clamped over her mouth.

  Kelly shook her head in turn. ‘No. I know what you’re thinking and you’re wrong. Plain wrong.’ She picked up her glass again and held it towards the screen. ‘This is vodka. Lovely, cold vodka.’

  Cassie’s hands dropped down. ‘How far along are you?’ Kelly rolled her eyes, shaking her head even more fervently as she looked away. She sighed. ‘I’m telling you you’re wrong. I’m not . . . I’m not . . .’ But the words wouldn’t come and Cassie saw the ball of her jaw clench in profile. There was a short silence before Kelly looked back at her. ‘I’m not going to be pregnant for long.’

  They were the words Cassie had predicted – and yet more besides. Too many. Cassie had been right and wrong?

  ‘What do you mean, for long?’ The words were whispers as she inched closer to the screen.

  Kelly’s head dropped down as though she didn’t have any strength. ‘No, I don’t mean . . .’ Her words ran out of power again and she rolled her lips together before finally looking back at Cassie. ‘This will be my fourth miscarriage.’

  Cassie winced. Now it was the tenses that were confusing her. ‘Will be?’

  ‘I can’t seem to carry past nine weeks.’

  Cassie sat back as though she’d been punched. One of her closest friends had had not one but three miscarriages and Cassie – in spite of their monthly virtual lock-ins – had failed to notice? ‘When was the first?’ Her voice vibrated with shock.

  ‘Just over a year ago.’

  ‘And the last?’

  Kelly took a deep breath. ‘The week before you came to New York.’

  Kelly’s paleness, tiredness and quietness that night came back in a rush; she remembered how Brett had fallen over himself to keep the focus on her and Henry and their exciting new plans – the expedition! The engagement! – and not their own.

  ‘Oh, Kell,’ she whispered, tears clouding her eyes. ‘Why didn’t you say?’

  ‘We’ve deliberately not told anyone. It seemed easier to just . . . contain it to the two of us.’

  Cassie shook her head, hating that she was drunk right now and Kelly wasn’t, hating that her friend had carried on as normal when in fact tragedy kept washing into her life like a soiled tide.

  ‘Have the doctors identified why?’

  ‘There’s no good reason they can find,’ Kelly shrugged. ‘Too much stress, maybe. Caffeine? Sugar? Plain old bad luck? Who really knows?’

  ‘Does Nooks know?’ Nooks and Kelly shared the sisterly closeness that bound Cassie and Suzy.

  Kelly shook her head. ‘No one.’ There was a small pause as she met Cassie’s gaze. ‘Not even Brett, with this one.’

  ‘What? But—’

  ‘I don’t want to get his hopes up. He’s found it so hard watching it happen each time and I don’t want to keep looking in his eyes and seeing fear. He’s so scared of everything for me . . . Thinks I should spend nine months lying on the sofa.’

  ‘Well, maybe he’s got a point. Your job is so full-on, and the people you work with are even worse than Suzy’s brides.’

  Kelly hesitated. ‘Well, it’s true Bebe has been especially demanding recently.’

  Cassie frowned. ‘Oh, now I’m really worried! I’ve worked with you both, remember – I know you do everything at warp speed, and I know what a cow she is. Brett’s probably right – you are doing too much.’

  Kelly shook her head. ‘No, he’s just looking for answers. The fact is, stress is all I know. It’s relaxation and R&R that my body can’t handle. Everything that’s happened . . . it’s just one of those things.’

  ‘This time will be different,’ Cassie said firmly.

  ‘No, it won’t.’ Kelly shook her head again, her eyes falling to the floor as she shifted position. ‘There should have been at least three months between this pregnancy and the last, and my ob-gyn is cross that I’m carrying again so quickly. It was an accident.’ Fear brightened her eyes and her hands tightened across her stomach – the protective gesture shrouded in irony given that the danger did, after all, come from her own body. ‘It’s too soon. After everything my body’s been through in the past twelve months . . .’ Her voice cracked. ‘There’s no way I’ll be able to carry this baby to term.’

  Cassie leaned in closer to the screen, desperate to reach through it and touch her friend, to put an arm round her shoulder and cry with her. ‘Kell, you can’t go through this alone. You have to tell Brett.’

  Kelly looked back at her sharply. ‘No. There is no need for both of us to go through this.’

  ‘But you can’t hide it from him.’

  ‘I can and I will. I’ve got no intention of ever telling him about any pregnancy unless I get past the twelve-week mark.’

  ‘And when’s that for this one?’

  Kelly held up one hand, five fingers. Five weeks to go. Five weeks of keeping the biggest secret of her life from the man she loved. She took a deep breath.

  ‘So then the baby’s due at the’ – she quickly calculated in her head – ‘end of January?’

  ‘This baby’s not due, Cass,’ Kelly said forcefully. ‘That’s exactly the point. I can’t afford to think like that. I won’t daydream about birthdates or names or any of that . . . I can’t.’

  Cassie’s shoulders sagged at her friend’s resolute stance. ‘Please, Kelly, tell Brett.’

  ‘Why? It won’t change the outcome, and what’s the point of burdening him with something that’s so completely out of our control? It’ll just mean there are two hearts broken, instead of one.’

  ‘But if it happens again, you need support to get through it.’

  ‘He’s already supporting me anyway. We’re still grieving the third loss.’ She gave a bleak shrug. ‘He’ll never know.’

  Cassie shook her head despairingly. ‘I really wish you’d reconsider, Kelly. I think you’re absolutely wrong on this. You should not be going through this alone.’

  There was a belligerent silence. ‘Well, I guess I’m not. I’ve got you now. Right?’

  ‘Of course. You know that. I’d do anything for you.’

  ‘Good. So then just promise me one thing.’

  ‘Anything.’

  ‘Don’t try to give me hope.’

  Cassie’s mouth parted, ready to protest, but Kelly stopped her.

  ‘No. I mean it. There’s no kindness in trying to get me to believe in something that can never be. I can’t battle you as well as myself. If you’re going to be here for me, then it means you standing side by side with me in the knowledge that there’s no happy ending to this. And if you can’t do that, then—’

  ‘I can,’ Cassie said quickly. ‘And I will.’

  Kelly scrutinized her expression. ‘You promise?’

  Cassie nodded vehemently. ‘I promise.’

  A tiny smile softened Kelly’s battle-ready expression. ‘Well, OK, then. And for the record’ – she inhaled deeply – ‘I do feel a bit better that you know. It’s been tough not having anyone to tell.’

  ‘I can’t begin to imagine,’ Cassie whispered.

  Kelly gave a sad smile. ‘Bet you’re wishing you hadn’t been so eagle-eyed now, huh?’

  But Cassie didn’t think it was funny, and as they hung up, she immediately reached for the diary by the sofa, counting as she flicked through the pages before making three entries in red pen, vividly outlining each day with a decisive circle:

  9 July – 9 weeks

  30 July –
12 weeks

  30 January – baby due

  Kelly might not count the days, but she would. She would keep the secret, but she would also, secretly, dare to dream for her friend.

  ‘Hey, stranger,’ Henry smiled, closing up the newspaper and getting up from the upturned bucket on the fire escape to plant a kiss in the centre of her forehead as she staggered into the kitchen the next morning, wearing his T-shirt and a hangover. ‘You were already asleep when I got back last night. I’m guessing it was a heavy night with Kelly?’

  ‘Something like that,’ Cassie groaned, pushing her hair back from her face. A cone of sunlight fell through the open door and she reached for the kettle like she was blindfolded.

  ‘Just sit,’ Henry instructed, planting his hands on her shoulders and steering her towards the yellow bucket, where she sank down gratefully, her head tipped back against the wall as she listened to the birds and let the sun warm her up. ‘You look like you could do with a bit of help being revived this morning. And we do need you revived – Arch deserves a wide-awake homecoming, don’t you think?’ Cassie’s eyes widened in surprise and she looked back into the shaded little kitchen. ‘He’s coming out today?’

  ‘This morning. In fact’ – he checked his watch – ‘Suze was hoping to be back in time for Jeremy Kyle. She reckons if anything will speed up his recuperation and get him back to work, it’s that. Women made pregnant by their sons-in-law on today’s show, apparently.’

  Cassie felt sick – and immediately wondered how Kelly was feeling.

  ‘Then I should get ready,’ she said, standing up from the bucket and heading for the bedroom, but Henry reached for her as she passed, his arms wrapping round her and gathering her into him.

  ‘Not so fast,’ he murmured, his cheek resting on her shoulder as he kissed her neck softly. ‘I’ve missed you.’ She sank back into him as his hand began to wander.

  ‘I’ve missed you. I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.’

  Henry’s hand stopped and he shot her a guilty look from behind his eyelashes. ‘Well, perhaps I was.’

  She pulled back a little. So her instincts had been right, then? ‘But why?’

  ‘It’s been a tough few weeks, all things considered, Cass: thinking I was going to lose Arch, actually losing the expedition, then running into your ex the very day I was working as a waiter . . . It’s not been a great time for my ego.’

  ‘Oh, Henry, you know I don’t—’

  ‘I know,’ he smiled, squeezing her bottom affectionately. ‘But as you well know, the male ego is an exceptionally fragile thing. I’m not used to feeling . . . redundant, I guess. In every sense of the word.’

  ‘I would love you if you worked as a waiter, a circus clown or . . . I don’t know, an optician.’

  He laughed, a rich sound she realized she had heard far too seldom recently. ‘Well, luckily for you, it’s still going to be saying “Explorer” on my CV for a while yet.’

  Something in his tone . . . She looked back at him, first in puzzlement, then excitement as she realized what he was saying. ‘You’ve got the funding?’ she whispered.

  ‘Well, not for this year, sadly, but if I want it, I know a man who knows a man who’s interested in associating his wealth with a good cause. He’ll double the shortfall from this year, and if you factor in the club’s grant too, we’ll be able to go further next year, for longer.’

  It was the benefactor they’d been waiting for! Cassie clapped her hands excitedly and did a little jog on the spot.

  Henry grinned as he felt her body moving against his. ‘And it gets better.’

  ‘How? How can anything top that?’ she squealed.

  ‘The rent’s now fully paid up till October. I just texted the landlord to let him know.’

  ‘How did you do that?’ she gasped.

  ‘I’ve got a trip lined up – leaving in ten days.’

  ‘What?’ Cassie asked, a note of panic suffusing her excitement. This was good news, of course it was, but he was going so soon? ‘Well, what is it? Where are you going?’ she asked, placing her hands flat against his chest.

  Henry fell still and she felt the atmosphere between them change. ‘It’s a sailing trip.’

  No. Her hands fell away, her gaze falling to the apple tree beyond the window as her jaw jutted.

  Beau Cooper . . . She felt sick at the thought of that man taking another step into their lives. He radiated toxicity.

  ‘Cass, someone dropped out. I had to take it,’ Henry said urgently, finding her hands and placing them against his chest again. ‘We needed the money – you know we did.’

  ‘I know. But did it have to be with him?’

  ‘This is the opportunity I’ve been waiting for. And, you know, I’ve been thinking – it was so weird running into Beau the other day and now this space has come up . . . it’s like maybe this was meant to be.’

  ‘Oh, so Archie’s heart attack was all part of some divine plan to reunite you and your old partner in crime?’

  His expression changed, but he didn’t say anything further.

  She instantly felt bad. ‘And so . . . what? This is the trip with the boat made of bottles, is it? You’re going to try to convince me that sailing the ocean on a boat made of taped-together plastic bottles, with less than two weeks’ notice, is a good idea?’

  ‘I know it sounds alarming, but nothing’s going to happen to me.’

  ‘Of course something’s going to happen, Henry. There’ll be a storm and it’ll break apart in the swell; you’ll be bumped by a whale and it’ll break apart—’

  His hand cupped her cheek. ‘Hey, look, I know it sounds scary, but it’s a lot more high-tech than it sounds. There’s some serious corporate money behind it. Plus I’ve got more experience than any of the others combined; I’m co-skipper.’

  ‘So it’s all a done deal, is it? I don’t get any say in the matter?’

  He shook his head. ‘The money was too good to turn down.’

  She stared back at him, frustrated that he thought she’d accept that excuse. This was not just about the money and they both knew it. He wanted to do this; his ego needed it. Beau had tapped into his old friend’s thirst for adventure, his hunger for the adrenalin rush.

  ‘Listen, you know I wouldn’t sign up for something without weighing the risks. Beau rang last night as I was on my way back from the hospital and we met up for a drink at his flat. He showed me the presentation they made to the sponsors on his iPad. It’s boss. You wouldn’t get big guns like Evian, Nike and the America’s Cup involved with something like that unless they knew all the bases were covered. They can’t afford to have six guys dying in the middle of an ocean on a boat with their logos on. This is an important ecological statement that has the weight of industry titans behind it. There’s nothing tricksy or Hicksville about it. It’s an absolute peach of an opportunity for me, Cass. You must see that it’s got my name all over it?’

  She sighed. ‘Of course I do. But—’

  He pressed a finger to her lips quickly. ‘Just trust me. I’m doing this for us, Cass.’ He trailed that finger down her neck, between her breasts . . . ‘But if you’re still not sure, I can tell you more about it while I treat you to a full-body massage.’ He winked and she couldn’t help but laugh, knowing full well just how persuasive those techniques could be.

  Of course, Cassie knew she could make him stay if she let slip that Beau had her naked picture on his bedroom wall – she could bet her entire alimony that Beau wouldn’t have allowed his old friend to catch a glimpse of that in the flat last night! – but that would only trample on his ego further. Nothing was going to change the fact that Luke had taken that picture and Beau had bought it, and besides, Henry needed to get back on track – he needed to get back on track more than she needed to avoid Beau Cooper’s lascivious stares. He needed to get back to doing what he loved, doing what made him Henry and not just an optician or a waiter or a clown. As much as she didn’t want Henry to go, it would be
worse to keep him here in those circumstances, to position herself as a pawn between him and his new boss, his old friend.

  ‘Just remember,’ he grinned, his hands finding the hem of her T-shirt. ‘If duffer, better drowned. If not duffer, won’t drown.’

  A reluctant smile escaped her as she rolled her eyes. Swallows and Amazons was his favourite book, and that was his favourite line.

  He pulled her T-shirt off in one easy motion so that she stood naked before him in the beam of light – that mannered politeness of the last few days gone again. He was back to being himself. He would never convince her that sailing an ocean on a boat made of bottles was anything other than dangerous and reckless, but it was precisely those qualities that drew him to the job; this spirit of adventure was who he was – it was what made him the man she had fallen in love with.

  His hands skimmed her curves with assured deftness and she felt herself respond to his touch. When it was just them, just this, everything felt so right and easy. She had no concerns about their now, their future. It was just the people in their pasts she was worried about.

  Two hours later both of them were holding hands and smiling like fools on the McLintlocks’ sofa, prompting lots of suspicious looks from Suzy as she intermittently tried to persuade Archie to ‘give green tea a chance’. Velvet was playing in a small pop-up Barbie tent in the middle of the floor, and The Jeremy Kyle Show had been put on mute when Archie had actually looked, at one point, like he might burst into tears. Or have another coronary.

  ‘So how many are there of you on this boat?’ Archie puzzled.

  ‘Six.’

  ‘And it’s made from water bottles?’ He squinted over at Suzy. ‘Or am I tripping on the drugs?’

  ‘No, you heard it right,’ Suzy muttered with a roll of her eyes.

  ‘The craft’s made up of twelve and a half thousand bottles, but it’s a lot more sophisticated than that,’ Henry said, while squeezing Cassie’s hand reassuringly. She had seen the presentation before they had left the flat and she had to admit the boat did look significantly more secure than the Castaway raft she’d conjured in her mind. ‘It looks like any other catamaran until you get up close to it.’