Chapter 25
There were twenty-four hours to kick off, and all SJ’s fears about seeing Alison were swirling around in her heart.
There was still time for something to crop up and detain her – but she’d had her hair done at Oliver’s, just in case.
He’d chopped off loads – SJ had watched in horror as it fell in chunks to the salon floor, but it did look better, she had to admit.
To her surprise, it didn’t seem that much shorter, but it no longer turned witchy five minutes after she’d dried it.
She had a feeling she’d lost a bit of weight too. That was probably because she’d eaten very little lately – she was too nervous to eat. Or perhaps her wine-free evenings were beginning to make a difference.
‘What are you going to wear?’ Tanya had asked when she’d phoned the previous evening, and the question had sent SJ into a panic.
A frantic search through her wardrobe had increased the panic tenfold. It was ages since she’d been anywhere that required dressing up. Her old party clothes were all too small. Her Monsoon jacket needed cleaning and it was too late to get it done. Anyway, it wasn’t really party wear.
When she’d mentioned it to Tom, he suggested he buy her something.
Then he’d put his money where his mouth was and had given her his credit card.
Her guilt at spending more of his money overridden by desperation, SJ had nipped into town and returned with two outfits, neither of which she was sure were suitable.
She never had been able to make up her mind where clothes were concerned.
Now she laid them out on the bed and wondered whether she should phone Tanya and ask for advice. Finally, she did.
‘I’ve got this long black skirt from Next, which sort of skims over my bulgy bits and hides my legs, and a floaty white gypsy-style blouse to go with it.’
‘Right…’ Tanya didn’t sound very impressed. ‘Don’t tell me – the other outfit includes black leggings?’
‘Well, yes, it does…’ SJ bristled. ‘What’s wrong with black leggings?’
‘Nothing’s actually wrong with them, but you never wear anything else, so they’re hardly special, are they?’
‘So what do you suggest? I can’t be bothered to take everything back.’
‘You must – I’ll come with you. We can get you kitted out in something glam. I’ll meet you outside Next in half an hour.’
SJ wasn’t sure she fancied the idea of something glam. It was okay for Tanya, who always looked stunning, but she had far too many lumpy bits that needed covering up. She pointed this out to Tanya as soon as she arrived, waving her Next bag defiantly.
‘You’re talking rubbish,’ Tanya said, without even a glance at the skirt and blouse she’d spent hours choosing. ‘Now let’s get rid of these and find something more suitable.’
To SJ’s horror, Tanya’s idea of ‘something more suitable’ turned out to be a tiny black shift dress with spaghetti straps.
‘I can’t wear that.’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s too short. Everyone will see my legs.’ Everyone would probably be able to see her knickers too, if she leaned forward, she thought glumly. She wouldn’t even have been keen on that ten years previously, when there’d been a lot less of her.
‘There’s nothing wrong with your legs. Now humour me. At least try it on.’
SJ did as she was told, then poked her head around the changing room curtain where Tanya was on guard so she couldn’t do a runner.
‘I’m not coming out, I feel naked. You’ll have to come in.’
‘It looks gorgeous,’ Tanya said. ‘What do you think?’
‘I’m not sure.’ SJ didn’t want to admit she hadn’t actually looked in the mirror because she knew she would look hideous. It had taken her ages to sort out the spaghetti straps, which had lived up to their name and tangled into knots.
‘Well, I think it suits you. You look ever so slim.’
‘Do I?’ SJ sneaked a glance and saw that while slim was a slight exaggeration, she didn’t have any untoward bulges – the skirt skimmed rather than clung.
Her arms looked okay too – they weren’t flabby at all, which was a nice surprise; she hadn’t worn any arm-revealing tops lately. Pity about her legs.
‘All you need now is some nice heels, and the right bag, and some suitable bling. Come on, let’s go and pay for the dress.’
The shoes Tanya made her buy were lovely, feminine and delicate so even her size eight clodhoppers looked good.
Her legs looked slimmer in heels, too. She felt like Cinderella.
The right bag turned out to be a black clutch bag with diamante detail, but Tanya turned her nose up at the display of jewellery.
‘Too expensive for what it is. You can borrow something of mine. Come on, let’s head back and you can choose.’
‘Are you sure it’s not too late?’
‘No, Michael won’t mind – he never goes to bed early. Come on. I want to get you sorted out properly.’
Michael was watching a black and white film when they got back.
It was the first time SJ had seen him to talk to since Tanya had told her about his penchant for cross-dressing.
Although she’d waved at him across the squash court once or twice, they hadn’t been out as a foursome lately – Tom had been too busy with work.
She’d been afraid she might feel differently about him, but when he leapt up and gave her a hug, she realised with relief that she didn’t.
He was still the same old Michael, with his boyish grin and floppy fringe.
She pushed the images of Lizzie firmly out of her head as she returned his peck on the cheek.
‘How you doing, SJ?’ His eyes sparkled. ‘Been shopping? What have you bought?’
She got the dress out to show him, and he made all the right noises. Man-type grunts of approval, rather than Lizzie-type girly comments – phew!
‘Tanya’s going to lend me some bling.’
‘Uh huh. I’ll leave you girls to get on with it then.’ With another quick grin he went back to his film, and they escaped upstairs.
‘Right, all you need to do now is to put your hair up and you’ll knock ’em dead,’ Tanya announced when SJ had got the whole outfit on again – complete with a chunky pink and gold necklace. ‘You look stunning.’
SJ wouldn’t have gone that far, but she had to admit she did look better than she’d done in the skirt and blouse, which had been more sensible English tutor than party girl.
‘Don’t forget your nails.’ Tanya scooped up two bottles from her dressing table. ‘One of these would look good. How are you feeling now?’
‘Like I might actually be going, after all,’ SJ admitted, swallowing a choked-up feeling of gratitude. ‘Thanks, Tanya. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’
* * *
When she got home, she hung everything in her wardrobe and told Tom he’d have to wait until tomorrow before he saw what she was wearing.
She didn’t want the short dress giving him ideas.
They hadn’t made love lately and she didn’t know how she was going to manage it without the help of a few glasses of wine.
It struck her she’d have the same problem after the party – but the following night was aeons away. She couldn’t think of anything beyond facing Alison.
While Tom was getting ready for bed, she phoned her mother from the privacy of the lounge, guessing correctly she’d be up late doing party food.
‘Sarah-Jane, I hope you’re not ringing me with any last-minute excuses about not being able to come, because I’ve got enough on my plate already.’
SJ was about to make some indignant denial, but then she reminded herself Mum had every right to be worried.
After all, that was exactly what she’d done on every previous occasion in history.
‘Of course not,’ she soothed. ‘I was just checking that everything was set for tomorrow – and there was nothing else you wanted us to do.’
She was also harbouring the faint hope that Alison, by some miracle, had decided not to go. But her mother’s next words dashed this to smithereens.
‘Yes, we’re all set. Your sister’s done most of the food – she’s a godsend. I couldn’t have managed without her.’
‘Great.’
SJ could hear the hollowness in her voice and maybe her mother could too, because she added gently, ‘She’s ever so pleased you’re coming, pet. It’s going to be lovely having my two girls together again.’
SJ wondered what she meant by together. Her mother probably had some rosy picture of her and Alison telling each other jokes over a G just the feel of his arms would have been enough.
Perhaps if she woke him? But that wasn’t very fair – and if she woke him and he was cross, she didn’t think her wired emotions would cope.
She curled up on her side and then spooned into the heat of him and shut her eyes.
The rest of the night was fragmented between restless sleep and nightmares. In the last nightmare she was sipping wine from the spout of a watering can.
SJ woke up with a sickening feeling of dread and her head pounding from the hangover.
Oh, God, she’d caved in and had a drink.
Dorothy was going to be furious. Kit would shake his head and give her one of his serious raised-eyebrow looks, which were far worse than if he’d just told her she was a weak-willed silly cow.
Tanya would be bitterly disappointed. Shame flooded through her – she’d been so determined, so sure she wasn’t going to drink again.
Drinking out of a watering can too. Watering can!
It took her a few moments to realise she hadn’t been doing any such thing.
As the echoes of the hangover flicked out of her mind, like little scurrying night demons that giggled as they ran, SJ heard Alco’s taunting voice.
She blocked it out – she knew now that the voice wasn’t a separate entity, but her own doubts and low self-esteem converging into one in her head.
Trying to sabotage the good she was doing.
Fully awake now, she sat up. It was only 5 a.m. But there would be no getting back to sleep.
She dressed quietly and went downstairs, feeling wearier than when she’d gone to bed.
In the kitchen she lit a cigarette, breathed in the blissful smoke of it, let Ash into the garden and followed him out into the new day.
The dog stretched his long grey body, blinked and sniffed the air. A couple of sparrows were chirping away in the maple tree beside the summer house and the early-morning light lit up the paving slabs outside.
SJ yawned and hoped the dreams had been sparked off by worry about seeing Alison again – and weren’t some kind of premonition.