Chapter Twenty-Eight
I walk into the house feeling head-to-toe dread. I hate confrontation. And I mean I hate confrontation. Toni and I argued as kids, but with our age gap, it wasn’t ever really that much. She only got annoying just as I was heading off to university. And since then, we’ve just been pals.
I hate that we’re about to have a fight. And I really hate that it’s about men we’re dating.
I am so coiled and ready for Toni that I’m taken by surprise when I enter the kitchen and find Celeste sitting at the kitchen table, a large brandy in front of her.
‘Oh, it’s you, Mum!’ I say in shock and she cocks her head.
‘Is it so horrifying to find your mother in her own kitchen?’ she says with mock-hurt. ‘I should be more surprised to see you. I thought you were staying out at Myfanwy’s tonight?’
‘Change of plan,’ I say conversationally, listening out for sounds of life in the rest of the house.
‘What was the change of plan?’ she demands and I try not to sigh out loud. ‘You were with Myfanwy, weren’t you?’
‘Er yes,’ I hedge. I hate lying, but no way was I going to tell her I had a date with my ex-boyfriend, Mikey. She’d have my wedding rearranged in ten minutes flat. ‘Myfanwy decided she wanted a romantic night in with Sonali,’ I explain, avoiding eye contact.
‘Hmm,’ she says, but the usually lengthy interrogation ends there.
‘Are you OK?’ I ask, looking at her closer. She looks tired and sad. Her sparkle isn’t quite so bright.
She shrugs. ‘The media hates the new range.’ She says it casually but I hear the wobble in her voice.
‘Oh no,’ I say, taking a seat at the table across from her. ‘What have they said?’
She throws a newspaper on the table between us and I pick it up, scanning an article that talks about Celeste jumping on a bandwagon nobody wants to ride. How she’s trying to attract the young and all she’s doing is alienating her customer base. There is a lot about how hideous the items themselves are, too, but a lot of it seems to be a personal attack on Celeste’s ego. Bizarrely, the piece is right next to a brightly illustrated QA with the Love Island star who’s fronting the range, talking about her exes and which couples she’s rooting for on the latest series. It comes with a credit underneath explaining where and how you can order Celeste’s ‘exciting’ new range.
I tut. ‘That’s horrible. I’m really sorry, Mum.’ I pause. ‘But this is just one idiot’s opinion!’
She shakes her head. ‘All the papers say the same sort of thing. That I’ve let fame go to my head and think I can do no wrong.’
I’m silent for a moment. ‘I’m sorry.’
She looks up and smiles wanly. ‘The bloggers and the influencers are all posting nice things though!’ she says brightly before adding, ‘But that might be because we gave them all endless freebies and even paid a few of them.’
‘I’m sure they wouldn’t write it if they didn’t mean it though,’ I say fiercely.
‘That’s true,’ she says, looking a bit happier. ‘And they haven’t seen the new store yet! I’m sure they’ll come around when they see it. This is going to take us to the next level.’
‘But,’ I begin carefully, not wishing to kick her when she’s so very down, ‘what’s wrong with our current level? We are so bespoke and curated. That’s why our clients love us. We can spend hours with them, talking them through what they want, making sure they have something that will be adored and treasured and handed down from parent to child to grandchild, forever.’ I spread my hands wide. ‘I love our store and I think what we do is amazing. It doesn’t need to be more mainstream or reality show-friendly, does it? That’s why I thought the engagement concierge idea—’
She doesn’t let me finish. ‘Oh, for goodness sake,’ she says. ‘Will you stop going on about that? I’ve told you no, let it go!’
‘Sorry,’ I say in a whisper, feeling stupid and crushed.
‘Never mind,’ she says breezily, her anger already forgotten. ‘You better get to bed, it’s late.’
I creep upstairs, spotting the light under Toni’s door. I could just sneak past, couldn’t I? I could go to bed and nurse my latest Celeste wound. I could deal with this conversation in the morning. I could hide until Shawn goes home and then speak to Toni on her own. After all, it’s hardly fair that it’s going to be two on one anyway, is it?
I sigh and knock on her door.
A worried Toni opens it seconds later, her face sagging with relief when she sees it’s me.
‘Ginny!’ she says with such joy that I forget for a moment that we’re mid-pseudo-argument. She pulls me in for a hug and behind her I spot Shawn, perched on the bed, looking sulky. ‘I’m so glad you came home, thank you!’
Her warmth knocks me completely off my stride. I’d come in here ready to defend myself and Mikey, but instead I find myself apologizing and nearly crying.
‘Guys,’ I say emotionally, ‘I’m sorry your special night got ruined, I’m really sorry. Mikey didn’t mean it – he was just joking, I’m so sorry, Shawn, he didn’t want to upset you. Are we OK? I’m really sorry.’
Toni takes my hand and leads me to the bed. ‘Sit down, Gin,’ she says nicely, but it feels too intimate to sit between them on the bed, so I select a beanbag and sit across from them.
‘You have nothing to be sorry about,’ Toni says earnestly. ‘You’ve done nothing at all.’ She nudges Shawn beside her, who looks sullen.
I wait, a little confused by what’s happening here.
After some resentful seconds, Shawn uncrosses his defensive arms and finally makes eye contact with me.
‘What did Mikey say happened?’ he asks and I can tell he is trying.
I shrug lightly. ‘That he made a stupid joke and you overreacted.’ I look away, embarrassed. ‘He’s sorry. He was just drunk, or high, or whatever. It wasn’t very nice, I’m sorry.’
Shawn takes a moment. ‘He’s got a girlfriend,’ he says at last and my stomach falls through the floor. ‘We were chatting about being the new members of the Bretherton clan and what an, er, interesting family you are.’ He takes a deep breath, looking a bit guilty. ‘Mikey clearly thought me and him were buddy-buddy – the outsiders of the group – because he then decided to tell me about the woman, Janine, who he lives with and has been with for two years.’
I can’t move. ‘Wait, what?’ I shake my head, trying to order my thoughts. Mikey has a girlfriend? But he can’t. He wouldn’t do that. Would he?
Shawn looks furious. ‘He was boasting about how he was going to bed the famous Celeste Bretherton’s daughter again and tell all his mates about it. All while Janine was none the wiser.’
This can’t be true, surely. I would’ve been able to tell? He said he really liked me. I look between Toni and Shawn again, shaking my head for the fiftieth time.
Am I just supposed to believe all this? It seems absolutely insane. Surely Mikey would never do that? He would never be that cunning or calculated. He wouldn’t use me like that.
‘Gin, are you OK?’ Toni’s voice is soft.
No way. It cannot be true. He wouldn’t do that. That would be next-level evil. Next-level arseholery. There’s no way.
I look at Shawn.
Mikey has been nothing but lovely to me. Nothing but sweet and adorable and kind and brilliant. He’s showered me with affection and compliments – he even sent me flowers! Meanwhile, all I’ve seen of Shawn is crappy mean-spirited spite and jealousy. He’s petty and small and unkind. Plus, I’ve actually technically known Mikey for, like, ten years! Of those two people who am I going to believe?
Shawn looks back at me, pre-wounded, ready for me to accuse him of lying. Ready to attack, ready to shout and scream and tell me how much his ugly shoes cost.
And I believe him.
Fuck. I hate myself but I believe him.
Which means Mikey is a complete and utter – complete and utter – bollock-headed bastard of the worst order. And I’m SO done with him.