Chapter 25
25
KATE
Lucia is due in ten minutes and Adriana and I are deep into a tit-for-tat exchange of Jon’s lies – the big, the small, and the (very, very) ugly.
‘So, what did Jon tell you about his parents?’ I ask.
‘They’re estranged and he never sees them.’
‘Hmm – convenient,’ I retort tartly. ‘He told me his father is deceased and that his mum is in aged care. Only whenever I suggested we go and visit her, he made up some excuse.’
‘And which is it?’ she asks.
‘Willem didn’t tell you?’
‘I wouldn’t let him. I didn’t want to hear it – too depressing.’
‘And now?’ I ask.
‘Now… maybe it’s better to know,’ she says, resigned.
‘Well then, his father is deceased, of course – hence the enormous inheritance – but his mother lives on a beautiful estate in Scotland with three dogs and live-in staff. It’s likely she has no idea what Jon is up to.’
‘If my son ever pulled anything like this,’ says Margot, ‘I’d drag him through the streets by his ear and give him a right bollocking in the town square.’
‘How very Victorian of you,’ I quip, and she chuckles.
‘Kate,’ says Adriana, and I look over. ‘What’s she like?’
It takes me a second to grasp who she’s asking about, because my first thought is of Jon’s mother.
‘You mean Lucia?’
She nods.
‘Different – to us , I mean. Opposite to you in looks – petite, dark hair – and polar opposite to me in personality.’
‘So, he doesn’t have a type,’ Margot observes.
‘Not as far as I can tell,’ I reply.
‘Just gullible women,’ says Adriana, her lips flattening into a peevish line. I don’t disagree and, once again, I feel a stab of regret for being so willing to swallow his lies.
‘But other than that,’ Adriana adds, ‘Jon must like variety.’
‘It appears that way,’ I reply. ‘Even the persona Poppy’s playing is quite distinctive, a deliberate tactic that seems to have worked.’
‘Do you think this will all be over soon?’ Adriana asks wearily.
‘It should be. Poppy says she’s making progress.’
Adriana clasps her hands behind her neck, the way Willem does when he’s frustrated, then expels a long groan of a sigh. ‘I just want this to be over. I want to confront Jon, revel in seeing the terror on his face, then move on.’
‘I hear you,’ says Margot.
Adriana drops her hands and looks at Margot, the left corner of her mouth lifting. ‘Yes, this has been hard on you,’ she says, her lips twitching.
Margot swats the air. ‘You know what I mean. I just feel for you – both of you. It’s a horrible situation and neither of you deserve to be in this position.’
‘Thanks, Margs,’ I say.
I’m actually glad she’s here, despite my initial shock at her showing up when I asked her not to – and at whatever’s going on between her and Adriana.
The doorbell sounds, startling all of us, and Adriana leaps up to answer the door. There’s a polite exchange in the entryway, then Lucia’s larger-than-life presence fills the vast room, with Adriana coming up behind her.
Lucia drops a leather duffle bag on the floor and before I have a chance to greet her and introduce her properly, she looks directly at Margot. ‘Don’t tell me you’re number four?’
Margot presses her hand to her chest. ‘Me? God, no. I wouldn’t touch that prick with a ten-foot pole. I’m the cheer squad.’
Lucia sniggers, then crosses the room, her hand outstretched. ‘Lucia Rossi. Number three.’
‘Margot Whitaker – number one’s cousin,’ she replies, jerking her head in my direction.
‘ Ahh , I see,’ says Lucia with a guarded smile. Her gaze drops to the half-drunk drinks on the table. ‘So, what are we having?’ she asks no one in particular.
Adriana seems to snap out of her trance. ‘Vodka with orange juice. Have a seat. I’ll make you one.’
The rest of us sit around the table, Lucia next to me, while Adriana sloshes some vodka into a glass freehand, then tops up the glass with orange juice. As an afterthought, she adds two ice cubes, splashing liquid onto the benchtop.
She’s nervous , I think. Completely understandable, considering I’ve felt the same way at least a dozen times over the past few weeks.
‘Here.’ She sets the drink in front of Lucia, then takes a seat opposite her.
‘Thank you – and for letting me come,’ says Lucia.
‘Sure,’ Adriana replies, as if she’d invited Lucia here herself.
‘But I have to say,’ Lucia continues, ‘it’s weird, meeting you. Same as when I met Kate last night… Sorry, I don’t mean that as an insult,’ she adds quickly.
‘It’s okay, it’s the same for me,’ says Adriana. ‘Kate too, right?’ she directs at me.
‘Surreal doesn’t even begin to describe it – even now and I’ve known the longest.’
Lucia laughs. ‘So, you’re saying it doesn’t get easier with time?’
‘I bloody well hope it does!’ I say emphatically, which makes the others chuckle.
‘Right,’ says Lucia, looking between us, ‘who wants to listen while I tell Jon I’m not in Verona?’
‘Oh, that’s right,’ I say, checking the time. ‘His plane will have landed by now.’
‘Uh-huh,’ replies Lucia with a mischievous grin.
She stands and retrieves her phone from her duffle, then returns to her chair, sitting cross-legged. She sets her phone on the table, then dials Jon and puts the call on speakerphone.
‘Hello, darling,’ he answers, and I shiver with disgust. How did I ever love that man?
‘ Mio amore! ’ Lucia exclaims. Then she waggles her brows at us.
* * *
Lucia is masterful on the call with Jon, lying to him with an ease that makes me wonder if she’s ever done any acting. She certainly sounds more natural than I must have when I last spoke with him.
After he begs her to return to Verona for the third time, she says, ‘I wish I could, but my grandmother…’ Her voice breaks convincingly. ‘This may be our last time together. You understand, don’t you?’
He acquiesces reluctantly and Lucia ends the call. She reaches for her drink, then sits back against her chair with a satisfied sigh.
‘That was amazing,’ says Margot, awestruck.
‘It really was,’ I agree. ‘And I hope this doesn’t come across the wrong way, but you’re a very good liar.’
She shrugs. ‘I studied theatre before I changed to fine arts. My father says I get my dramatic side from my nonna .’ She smiles. ‘She was a tiny woman – even tinier than me – but what a force . And everything was OTT with her. When we’d visit her in Italy, I’d go with her to the butcher, to buy fresh produce… and at every shop, it seemed like she and the shopkeeper were arguing. But she was just getting the best meat, the best tomatoes – and the best price.’
‘She sounds like an incredible woman,’ I say.
‘Oh, she is.’
Adriana, who has been quiet until now, speaks up. ‘You seem… okay ,’ she says to Lucia, eyeing her curiously.
‘You mean about Jonny?’
Adriana nods.
‘Well, I’m massively pissed off with the bastard. As long as I stay mad, I’ll be fine. I can cry when all this is over.’
It’s a sobering thought and we’re quiet for a moment, even Margot. Then Lucia raises her glass.
‘To us, Jonny’s prey. May we make his life a complete and utter misery. Salute .’
‘ Salute ,’ we chorus.
Lucia takes a generous sip and almost spits it out. She covers her mouth as she splutters and coughs. ‘That’s really strong,’ she manages in between coughs.
I pat her on the back as Adriana jumps out of her chair, returning to the table with a glass of water.
‘Sorry, that’s my fault,’ she says, looking at Lucia apologetically. ‘I was nervous about meeting you and I…’
Lucia raises a hand, attempting a smile through the spluttering. ‘It’s okay.’
Eventually her coughing subsides and she takes a long drink of water. Adriana sits heavily in her chair, shaking her head at herself. ‘I really am sorry.’
Lucia reaches across the table. Adriana hesitates for a second, then lets Lucia take her hand.
‘I was nervous too,’ says Lucia.
‘You were?’ we all say at once. Adriana, Margot, and I exchange amused glances.
‘Luv, you could have been a star if you’d stuck with the theatre,’ says Margot. ‘You swanned in here like Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada .’
Lucia laughs. ‘I don’t know about that – it was bravado more than anything. Must be how I’m coping – being pissed off and pretending everything’s okay.’
‘“Pissed Off and Pretending” sounds like the title of a self-help book,’ Margot jokes, sending sniggers around the table.
‘So…’ says Lucia, sitting up taller. ‘Shall we place bets on who Jonny contacts first?’
‘Oh,’ I say, ‘you’re right. He’s bound to contact at least one of us.’
‘Or both,’ says Margot. ‘Up his chances of getting a shag this weekend.’
‘Margot!’ I chide.
‘What?’ She seems genuinely baffled by why that might be inappropriate.
‘Perhaps consider your audience,’ I reply, casting my eyes between Lucia, who’s smiling sardonically, and Adriana, who has gone pale.
‘Sorry,’ Margot says contritely.
My phone chimes, followed almost instantly by Adriana’s. We pick them up at the same time and Lucia leans close to read over my shoulder:
Hello darling. My work commitments have changed last minute and I’d love to take you out tonight. Shall I hop on a plane?
‘ Stronzo! ’ Lucia declares. ‘What does yours say?’ she asks Adriana.
Adriana reads out the exact same message Jon sent to me. He must have copied and pasted it, the stronzo .
‘I like how he doesn’t even ask if you’re free,’ says Margot. ‘He just expects you to drop everything and run into his arms. Arsehole.’
She’s not wrong. And hearing from Jon, especially under these heightened circumstances, only emphasises the vast chasm between him – snake, turd, arsehole – and Willem.
I wonder where he is. I wonder how he is. God, I feel like a proper shit having said those things.
‘Hey,’ Adriana says, dragging me from my bout of self-reproach. ‘What if we both reply yes?’
Lucia starts laughing. ‘Oh, that would be brilliant . Talk about painting himself into a corner.’
‘It would be brilliant,’ I say, ‘but only until he chooses which one of us to let down. Then he’ll expect to see the other one.’
‘Oh, right,’ says Lucia.
‘Of course,’ mutters Adriana, spinning her phone in her hands.
‘Wait a minute,’ I say. ‘If we both turn him down, he’ll reach out to Poppy next.’
‘Oh yeah,’ says Margot. ‘If he can’t see one of you, he’ll move on to his Australian girlfriend.’
‘We’d need to warn her though,’ says Adriana.
‘This is the matchmaker?’ Lucia interjects.
‘That’s right,’ I reply.
‘But does she work on weekends?’
‘From what I can tell, she works any time she’s needed.’
Lucia blinks at me, clearly impressed. ‘Wow.’
‘I know, right? I’ll call her now.’
Like Lucia did before, I set my phone on the table and dial Poppy’s number, then put it on speakerphone. She answers after the third ring.
‘Hi, Kate,’ she says cheerfully.
‘Hi, Poppy. I’m here with Adriana, Lucia, and my cousin, Margot.’
‘Ooh, the whole gang,’ she says with laughter in her voice. ‘How’s it going? Is Dunn aware that his proposal isn’t happening?’
‘Yep!’ Lucia proclaims. ‘I told him my grandmother is sick, even though she’s fitter than a fiddle, and I had to rush back to the UK unexpectedly. Oh, this is Lucia, by the way.’
‘Hi, Lucia. You sound liberated .’
‘I feel it,’ she replies with unfettered laughter.
It occurs to me that in the short time since she arrived, Lucia’s bright spirit has made a considerable dent in the day’s gloomy mood. Maybe she and I will become friends as well.
‘Poppy,’ I say, getting to the purpose of the call. ‘Adriana and I have already heard from Jon – he’s asked to see us tonight.’
‘Both of you?’ she asks, surprised. ‘Oh, of course – he’s hedging his bets. So, you’ve both said no?’
‘Not yet, but we will,’ I reply.
‘Then he’ll probably ping Penny next,’ she says, catching on straight away.
‘That’s what we were thinking.’
She audibly sighs.
‘Sorry, Poppy. No doubt this will derail your evening.’
‘Ahh, it’s no worries,’ she says, even though it’s clearly an imposition.
‘Poppy, this is Margot. You know, you could put him off as well,’ she suggests.
‘I could … but if he can’t propose and neither of his fiancées are available, it might make him ripe for taking the next step.’
‘Agreeing to the donation?’ I ask, looking at the others excitedly.
‘Yep. And if I can get him to do that, then “Penny” could be in London by next Friday.’
‘Are you saying that we could be confronting Jon in less than a week?’
‘Is that Adriana?’ Poppy asks – I should have made this a video call.
‘Yes, it’s Adriana.’
‘It’s sounds like you’re ready to wrap this up,’ says Poppy, commiserating.
‘I am – we all are,’ she replies.
Poppy laughs. ‘To be honest, that would suit me as well. My parents are arriving from Australia soon and I’d like to have all this done and dusted before they get here.’
Adriana smiles at me across the table; she seems relieved.
‘Okay,’ says Poppy, ‘how about you both tell him no – maybe space your messages out twenty or thirty minutes, so you don’t raise his suspicions – and I’ll wait to hear from him. In the meantime, I’ll check in with my boss and make sure we’ve got the contract sorted – for the donation.’
‘Sounds good, Poppy,’ I say, also relieved to see the light at the end of this tunnel.
‘Just be ready,’ she advises. ‘Once the final pieces start falling into place, this could all unfold very quickly. Jon Dunn is an impatient man, and he wants what he wants without delay.’
‘Okay, Poppy. And thank you.’
The others thank Poppy, and we say our goodbyes.
‘Right,’ I say, looking at Adriana. ‘You want to go first?’
‘It would be my pleasure,’ she says with a satisfied smile, and she starts typing on her phone.
I’ve got at least twenty minutes to kill, so as Lucia and Margot start chatting about Verona, a city high on Margot’s bucket list, I busy myself with clearing the glasses from the table, including Lucia’s undrinkable cocktail.
From the sink, I eye my case, which is sitting mere feet from Willem’s bedroom door. Only, it’s unlikely either of us will see the inside of that room. Not after I made a total hash of it, shouting that I’ve essentially been using Willem for sex, as if that’s all this is. Total and utter bollocks, of course, but he doesn’t know that. And I can’t make it right if he isn’t here… Gah!
‘You bloody idiot,’ I tell myself glumly as I wipe the benchtop.
‘I’ve done it, Kate,’ Adriana calls out, dragging me from my miserable thoughts.
She gets up and brings her phone over to show me.
I’d love to but my students have their performance tonight, remember?
‘Nice touch, highlighting the performance angle,’ I tell her.
‘Thanks,’ she says, accepting the praise with a smile.
‘Wait, do your students have a performance tonight?’
‘ No , I made it up.’
‘Ahh, gaslighting the gas lighter… Also a nice touch.’
‘And it makes his reply even funnier. Look.’ She scrolls down to his instant reply:
Of course. Silly of me to forget. Though you know how I feel about school performances *winking face*
‘He’s such a first-class prick,’ I say. ‘Though we definitely chose the right cause for him to donate to.’
‘Mm-hmm. So, what’s your excuse going to be?’ she asks.
‘How about a migraine?’ Margot suggests.
‘He’d just tell Kate to take a headache tablet,’ Lucia replies. ‘That’s what he said to me when I actually did have a migraine. Have you ever sat through a five-act opera with a pounding head?’
Her mention of the opera reminds me of Willem, but I need to focus on Jon right now, not how royally I’ve cocked things up with Willem.
‘What if you’ve got something contagious?’ Adriana suggests.
‘Yes, like the flu!’ Margot agrees excitedly.
‘You seem oddly pleased about infecting me with a fake illness,’ I say.
‘I’m pleased that Jon’s getting what’s coming to him,’ she replies. ‘I wish I could be a fly on the wall when you all confront him. Unless… ooh, do you think I could?—’
‘ No , Margot. And this time, I mean it.’
She shrugs. ‘It was worth asking.’
I don’t agree, but I let it go.