‘Hi. Oh, you must be… em?’ I hesitate. ‘Sorry. I can’t remember your names. Roger did tell me…’ For the life of me, I don’t remember anyone telling me. I feign ecstatic interest in the new arrivals to the close. The woman is petite and pretty but slightly on the mousy side, although her Nike trainers suggest she might be a potential jogging companion.
‘Alexis and Adam. Morley. We’ve moved in across the road and wanted to say hi. Also wanted to apologise for the removal van this morning. The men took ages and I think your husband had a bit of trouble reversing.’
‘Oh don’t worry. I’m Susan, by the way, and that’ll have been Roger in the car. Would you like to come in for a cup of tea or perhaps something stronger?’
We shake hands, very formally and I brace myself against having them in, unenthusiastic about impending small talk. I politely tempt them by opening the front door slightly wider, letting the cold damp air invade the hallway.
‘No thanks. That would be lovely but we really need to get on with the unpacking so we’ll have somewhere to sleep tonight. We wanted to introduce ourselves.’ She turns towards her husband. I wait for Adam to add something. He stands slightly back from his wife, a cold unfriendly set to his lips.
‘It’s been a long day but thanks for the offer,’ he says, withdrawing a limp hand. He’s rather nondescript and aloof. Not like Roger who is tall, striking and very imposing. Adam complements his rather plain companion.
As I close the door behind them, I feel a dreary mood settle over me again. The realisation that they will be unexciting reliable neighbours has accentuated my boredom. We’ll be able to share sugar cubes and teabags.
I wander back into the study, only half an hour of peaceful solitude left before Natalie has to go home. While I kick-start Join Me back to life, I peek out through the window and see the Morleys standing by their front door. She has put a key in the lock and seems to be struggling. He brushes her to one side and takes the key from her, proceeds to open the door before extracting it and holding it up, pointedly in front of her nose with a triumphant smirk, as if to say, ‘See. That wasn’t so difficult now, was it?’
I down the last of the wine, before topping it up from the bottle by my feet, and decide to sign up. Hell, why not? Join Me is just a more sociable version of Facebook. It seems to be about making friends and sharing fun rather than ‘in-your-face’ bragging of what exotic destination you and your family have visited. Unfriending contacts has taken up more of my time recently than requesting them.
I use my personal credit card, the one Roger doesn’t control, and register with my private Yahoo email address. I’ll pick my moment to tell Roger about the site, once it’s a fait accompli. He won’t mind, I’m certain, because he knows I toy with Facebook even though he still manages to tut every time it’s mentioned.
It’s not that I don’t love Roger. It’s rather that high-powered solicitors have little spare time for fun, and fine dining has been replaced with trips to McDonalds or Burger King. Romantic dinners have become a dim and distant memory.
I click the continue button, methodically working through the terms and conditions until I finally come to payment. Then it’s done.
I browse; online shopping springs to mind as I begin clicking on the teasing photographs which are the visible tips of hidden icebergs. The members are all duller than I could have imagined, especially the men. Bob 123, Leonard 785 and Jerry 100 have all lied about their ages. They must have. As I squint at their profile pictures I find it hard to imagine that all forty-something’s are balding, bespectacled and bearded. I smile at Bob 123’s ambition to visit the London Dungeon. Some members haven’t added their ages. Perhaps they think this doesn’t matter when it’s the sights that are on offer. However, I must admit that Percy 901, who looks about ninety, wouldn’t be my first choice of companion. I can see why he’s left his age out.
I then scroll through looking for those who claim to be in their thirties and those who might be into less serious pursuits. The London Fun section draws my eye.
LONDON FUN:
London Zoo, Thames River Boat, City Bus Tour, A Trip to Harrods…
The excitement is starting to pall when I see him. Vince 666. His smile lights up the screen. It’s wide and winning. His white teeth are perfect. His eyes are a chocolate brown, his skin a pure olive tone. Six foot two apparently. He works in finance in the City, in futures trading and lives in London. I decide to add gourmet food to my interests and, for fun, London Zoo. I hate zoos but as this is first on Vince 666’s bucket list, it’s too tempting. Perhaps it’s the wine working but what fun!
I have ten minutes left to perfect my draft profile and decide to change the first picture I chose. I looked quite stunning in my twenties and glancing at the gilt-framed mirror beside me, I fool myself into thinking that I might still pass for twenty-five. I stare for a couple of minutes at Vince’s picture and my stomach does a little flip. Imagine. I could invite him to share an experience.
‘Mrs Harper?’ There’s a gentle rap on the door before it’s tentatively opened and Natalie pushes her head round. ‘I need to get going.’
‘Sorry, Natalie. I lost all track of time. Give me a minute.’
I quickly log off, clear the browser’s history, clicking the X on the top right-hand corner of all recent screens and shut down the computer. Roger would be expecting to find sites advertising city mini-breaks, ski chalets or even dog rescue shelters. He’s toying with Tilly’s incessant request for a puppy, pretending that it’s never going to happen. Roger tries to keep us all happy. I would rather explain face to face how Join Me works than he comes upon it by chance.
As I switch off the light and head out into the hall, Noah runs up and jumps into my arms, screaming ‘Mummy! Mummy!’
I pull him close, kissing his perfect round little crown and realise I’m looking forward to Roger getting home.
3
Caroline
I slouch low in my seat, feigning interest in the gym brochure, head bent in manufactured concentration. I glance up intermittently to get a better look.
Susan Harper stands out from the crowd. It’s her shock of thick unkempt auburn hair; long and loose, straggling round her shoulders. She’s tall and skinny, dressed entirely in black with skin-tight leggings clinging savagely to her bones. The myriad of stubborn freckles that cover her face and arms make me smile. They’ll not appeal to Jason. Airbrushed from her profile picture, they have presented me with an unexpected gift. A thick band of sweat rings her brow, a saintly halo of exertion.
‘Coffees? My turn.’ Her voice is imperious but gratingly high-pitched. ‘Everyone for cappuccinos?’ Susan has pushed her way to the forefront of the gaggle of ladies. A determined army talking fast and furiously, battling to be heard, they nod in unison. Two tables are pushed together, towels and kit bags tucked haphazardly underneath.
I amble towards the bar, timing my arrival. Susan is trying to jiggle three drinks in her skeletal fingers, pushing the receptacles tightly together, trying to steady the swirling contents. Dark sinewy veins snake up the back of her hands.
‘Here. Let me help.’ I lift a couple of coffees, offering to carry them over to the waiting group. A witches’ coven.
‘Thanks,’ Susan says, smiling back at me.
‘A pleasure.’ I set the mugs down and turn to go back to the bar.
‘You’re welcome to join us.’ Her smile is pleasant but cloying. She needs to be liked.
One of the ladies clears a seat beside her and pats it with a firm rap of her hand. ‘Plenty of room,’ she says.
I hesitate, unsure. My plan had been to bump into Susan alone, hanging around the changing rooms or lockers. I look round the café, unwilling to be derailed too easily. I could pretend to be waiting for someone, play for time. Instead, with a slight nod, I agree to join the circle.
‘Thanks. I’ll get my drink.’
I was right to guess that she might belong to the Fitness Forum. Her Join Me profi
le makes claims of Pilates and Zumba, and the gym’s exorbitant joining fees made it a likely choice. Also it’s the nearest private club to Riverside Close where she lives.
A heavy music beat is pulsating round the room, loud and energetic, confusing my thoughts. I’m reluctant to be noticed. Jason can’t find out I’m following members who catch his eye. He would wonder why and it would be difficult to explain. A date is in the diary for him to meet up with Susan later in the week, so I need to be careful, not do anything rash. The thumping noise pulses round in my head as I reach for my coffee.
‘A bit noisy.’ A man at the table next to the ladies grimaces. He has been watching and tries to engage me in conversation, perhaps surmising that I might prefer his company. I ignore his efforts, smile weakly, and instead move towards the empty chair Susan has slotted in next to hers.
Conversation is in full swing but it’s light and meaningless, staccato words bouncing back and forth. School runs, mid-week tennis lessons and vacuous asides about the weather.
‘I’m Susan, by the way.’
‘Caroline. Carrie to my friends.’
‘Are you a new member?’ she asks.
‘I’m thinking of joining but not sure I can justify the fees.’ I finger the brochure, leafing lightly through the pages. It gives me something to do.
‘It’s worth it if you do the classes. They’re all included.’ Each of the ladies in turn endeavours to sell the package, willing me to join them.
Susan looks at me when conversation turns gossipy, apologising for the non-inclusive nature of the topics. She extracts a scrunchie from her handbag and pulls her tangled red mane back from her face, knotting it loosely at the nape of her neck revealing an ugly mole under her left ear. I can’t help staring. It reminds me of Jason’s branding landmass.
‘Sorry. We can’t help ourselves. Typical bored housewives,’ Susan says with mock self-chastisement. She sips her coffee, small delicate little mouthfuls, gripping the mug firmly in both hands and appears to be letting the mellow chatter waft over her, in one ear and out the other. Her mind is elsewhere.
She’s meeting Jason on Friday and is holding the guilty secret close to her chest, tightly minding it like the hot steaming liquid. It will be the first time for them to meet. Fine wines and champagne is her thing apparently. Of course, I don’t believe her claim that she’s also keen to visit London Zoo.
Something makes me blurt it out. Perhaps it’s my inherent impatient streak but a sudden lull in the conversation gives me the opening.
‘I’ve had an interesting flyer through my letterbox. Join Me. Anyone heard of it?’ It appears like I’m trying to join in, bring a subject of worth to the table. The ladies stop drinking for a second as conversation dries to a trickle. Their attention is caught by the newcomer.
‘Shit.’ I watch Susan as coffee misses her mouth and the milky liquid hits her black vest. It’s a knee-jerk moment.
I hand her a serviette, watching the manic attempts to scrub away the first traces of guilt.
‘Yes. We were talking about it last week,’ says one member of the group; a small pale-faced mumsy type. ‘I wouldn’t have the time. Have you joined?’
‘No, but it looks fun. Maybe if I’d a bit more spare time.’ I stand up, gently pushing my chair back. ‘It was nice to meet you all but I need to get going.’ I smile from one lady to the next.
Susan suddenly stands up. ‘I think I’ll make a move too. Waitrose beckons. See you all next week?’ She does a phoney little exaggerated wave of her right hand, flapping it theatrically from side to side in front of the ladies, before extricating her kit bag from under the table.
We walk out together towards the car park, shivering in unison as we pull our coats tight. Susan has regained her composure, the spilled coffee incident forgotten.
‘Do you live nearby?’ she asks as we reach our cars, parked near to each other.
‘Off the Archway Road. Not far from Highgate tube station. You?’
‘Riverside Close. It’s nearer Hampstead than Highgate.’ She clicks her car key and a gleaming black BMW saloon beeps open. ‘Not too far from you.’ She hesitates, as if unsure whether to kiss me on the cheek or shake my hand. I wonder if the mention of Join Me has left her feeling uneasy.
‘Yes. Perhaps we could meet up for coffee sometime,’ I suggest. I click my own car fob and notice one of the back lights isn’t working. As I throw my handbag across the passenger seat, I sense her hovering, although she’s standing by her car door.
‘Hey, why not come round for coffee one morning?’
I start up my car, pull the door closed and zip down the window.
‘Yes. That would be nice, thanks.’
Susan takes a scrap of paper from her bag, leans it on top of her car bonnet and scribbles down a number.
‘Here. Give me a call.’
‘Will do. Sounds like fun.’ I pocket the number safely before driving off, waving my hand out the open window. I watch her in the mirror as she slides into her expensive car. She has no idea she’s being played. That’s the way I want it.
As soon as I got together with Jason, I gave up on girlfriends. I’d always been the mousy dreamer, the dowdy hanger-on who harboured Cinderella dreams. As I drive away from Susan, I shiver at the thought of ever needing a girlfriend again. Jason is all I need. I never want to go back.
I had always felt a masochistic draw to be in the company of beautiful people. It seemed to give me worth. Jade had been my so-called best friend since university but we used each other, feigning a mutual empathy. It was a two-way arrangement. She needed me to keep her company on nights out and I in turn got invited to the best parties and coolest events, simply because I was her best friend.
Jade was beautiful. Well, beautiful on the outside but pitted and ugly on the inside. She was selfish and arrogant, driven by her looks rather than brains. However, she underestimated me once too often and the night Jason arrived on the scene would be the last time I saw her. I eventually changed my phone number when she persistently tried to get in touch. She was finally forced to get the message. I might be plain on the outside but determined as death on the inside. People never look deeply enough; that’s their problem.
‘Don’t look round. You’ll not believe the guy who’s walked in,’ she’d said.
I didn’t look. There was no need. If Jade’s eye landed on someone then no one else got a look in. We were at a nightclub, celebrating a reunion of sorts as we hadn’t seen each other for several months. Also getting drunk always seemed like a good idea. The music was deafening, thundering through the psychedelic strobes, blocking out coherent thought and conversation.
‘Is it safe to look yet?’ I played along, dry mouthed and disinterested. Jade was like an exotic fish in an aquarium, all eyes drawn to her smooth bright colours as she slithered and weaved among the lesser, more insignificant, life forms.
‘Not yet. Oh my god! He’s coming this way.’ She flicked her long hair coquettishly from one side to the other and back again, and then coiled it on top of her head before letting it cascade once more over bare tanned shoulders. Posing in skyscraper heels, her hips shimmied while she straightened her sheer silk dress.
I got used to people staring, asking me if she had a boyfriend, where she came from and if I could get them her phone number. I fell into the role of leftover sidekick only the desperate or realistic would turn to.
‘Jeez this music’s loud. Hi.’ I heard the voice before I turned and saw the person. He was holding his hands theatrically over his ears. Jade answered for both of us.
‘I know. I can’t hear myself think!’ she yelled, miming his action of putting hands over her ears, gritting her teeth in mock horror.
‘Can I get you ladies a drink?’
Jade nodded and wiggled her near-empty champagne flute in the air while he stood there, lips closed but upturned in wry amusement. His eyes did the talking. Even through the dark hazy atmosphere, my attention was drawn to the deep brown magn
ets. When he turned in my direction, my gaze dropped and my cheeks burned.
We stood in silence as he ordered the drinks, scared if we looked away he might be gone.
‘Here. Champagne for the ladies.’
Jade’s outstretched hungry hand hovered empty in the air. ‘Careful not to spill any,’ he said. His fingers brushed my hand and with barely a glance, he passed the second glass towards my friend’s greedy out-splayed fingers.
‘Thanks.’ The voice came from somewhere but not from me.
We settled in a corner, the three of us. Jason had come alone. He didn’t need sidekicks. I sat among the beautiful people and for the first time since I’d met Jade, I was aware of someone more dynamic, more physically perfect than she was.
‘Isn’t he bloody gorgeous? Have you ever seen anyone so cool?’
Jade was beside herself, a bitch on heat. Jason had popped out to make a phone call and she was already planning on how to get rid of me.
‘Listen, he’s coming back. You wouldn’t mind popping to the loo and giving me five minutes alone with him?’ Jade guzzled her champagne, downing friendship and decency in one gulp.
‘He’s the man for me. Christ, Carrie. I think I’ve found Mr Right.’
On cue, I excused myself. Old habits die hard and I headed for the exit. I’d catch a taxi back to King’s Cross and take the train from there back up to Highgate. I wouldn’t be missed. It was in that moment I decided never to see Jade again.
Destiny had different plans though. It intervened in the guise of a drunken teenager, balancing glasses cheek by jowl, who staggered across the room. A band of uneven carpet and unsteady footing sent a Bloody Mary straight in my direction.
‘Shit. I’m sorry.’ A bright red stain, thick like fresh blood, coursed down my top and rapidly seeped through the flimsy material. ‘Shit, shit, shit,’ he repeated. ‘Let me get you a cloth.’ The smell of tomato juice made me gag. ‘I’m really sorry.’
‘Don’t worry. It doesn’t matter. I’ll clean myself up.’
4 Riverside Close Page 2
