Chapter 17
17
‘Well, where to now?’ Cate repeated the question. She tightened the ribbon on the bag containing Phil’s new tie.
‘We could get something to eat, I suppose,’ Natalie said.
‘I’m not hungry, are you?’
‘Not really.’
‘Then why suggest lunch?’ Cate realised she was sounding a little impatient, but Natalie was supposed to be in charge, wasn’t she? Cate was a guest on Luxe Life Swap – albeit an unexpected one.
‘I thought you might want something.’ Natalie shrugged.
‘I do. A drink. According to my app, we’re right near Harry’s Bar.’
‘We’ll be filming there another day but I guess there’s nothing to stop us going there now.’
‘Come on then. This way.’ Cate strode on. Nat was dithering; someone had to take charge. And Cate needed one of Harry’s famous bellinis. Right now.
They didn’t have to walk far; her app hadn’t lied. She pushed open the frosted-glass door, pushing her sunglasses up into her hair.
‘Looks like a couple of free seats over there,’ Natalie said.
Cate headed for the end of a row of round tables. Plain walls, simple, curved, wooden chairs with tan leather seats: there was nothing intimidating about the famous bar where Charlie Chaplin, Ernest Hemingway and Truman Capote had all hung out. But she would never have had the nerve to poke her nose round the door the last time she was here. These days, she comfortably mingled in the Royal Enclosure at Ascot and ate at the smartest of restaurants. But sometimes, she still glanced down, half-expecting to see a hole in her tights, a pair of scuffed, down-at-heel shoes.
‘And for you, signora ?’
The waiter and Natalie were looking at her expectantly.
‘The same for me, please,’ Cate said quickly. She assumed Natalie had ordered one of the bar’s iconic white peach bellinis. But who knew? Perhaps Nat had developed a taste for neat whisky. She had no idea what her old friend liked or didn’t like any more.
The man removed the list of drinks. No glass to fiddle with, no menu to flick through, no sunglasses to hide behind. Cate felt uncomfortably warm, the atmosphere heavy with words unsaid. Natalie regarded her with a half-smile. Cate had to break this weird standoff.
‘Nat, can you believe we’re really having cocktails together in Harry’s Bar?’
Natalie stiffened. Maybe no one called her Nat any more.
Cate waited for the waiter to set down their drinks. Bellinis, thank goodness.
‘You bought some beautiful clothes this morning,’ Natalie said.
‘Simona Rinaldi’s was out of this world. Those Fortuny pleats! The sheen on that silk dress! I hope Harrods lives up to the countess’s expectations.’
‘There’s no need to worry about the Italian couple; Floella tells me they’re thrilled with everything. And Harrods stocks every style of outfit the countess could possibly want… but perhaps not a yellow, feathered cape.’
‘That cape! I was desperately trying to keep a straight face. I didn’t dare catch sight of myself in the mirror; what on earth did I look like?’
‘Big Bird from Sesame Street ?’
Cate smacked her hand to her mouth. ‘That’s it! I knew it was some sort of cartoon character. And that dreadful furry bag – you were wicked to suggest I buy that. Didn’t it look like Julie Paine’s nan’s hat? The one she used to wear on Sundays, do you remember?’
‘You’re right! How could I forget? Julie used to boast it was made from real squirrels.’
‘Roadkill, more like.’
‘Stop it!’
‘Or rats?’ Cate’s shoulders began to shake.
Natalie’s laugh sounded more like a huge snort. Two women at the next table turned around. Cate tried to stop laughing, but looking at Natalie just made it worse. She stared intently at a spot on the wall until their giggles gradually subsided.
‘Maybe we should go back to that shop again,’ Cate said.
‘What for? The rat bag or the cape?’
‘Not those. Maybe I should get that bomber jacket with the bird wings you tried on, oh, I don’t know.’
‘You are joking!’
Cate ran a hand down her caramel, linen, cigarette pants. ‘Sometimes, I think I should be more adventurous. Like you: look at the colours on your dress.’
Natalie gave her a strange look, almost as if she thought Cate was taking the mick. But she genuinely loved the multitude of little turquoise and purple diamonds that formed the pattern on Nat’s midi dress. ‘You were always good at choosing things when we went shopping together. Do you remember when you found me that great sweatshirt in Lakeside?’
‘The day you got your ears pierced – you got the tiniest studs cos you knew your dad would go mad.’
Cate fiddled with the end of her cocktail stirrer. ‘We had such fun, didn’t we? All these years, I’ve never had a friend like you. Maybe it’s fate we’ve met like this. I’d love it if we were friends again, wouldn’t you?’
Natalie didn’t respond. Surely she couldn’t still be mad at Cate for her clumsy attempt to ingratiate herself with school-queen Julie and her daft pals? Not after all these years. Maybe Natalie still felt guilty about spilling the truth about Cate’s mum.
‘I have forgiven you,’ Cate assured her.
‘For what?’ Natalie snapped. Her face had gone a strange colour.
‘For telling me about Dad,’ Cate ploughed on. ‘I told you last night, I would have found out soon enough. And I understand why you said what you said. You just lashed out because you were embarrassed when nobody believed that silly story.’
‘What story?’ Natalie’s voice was icy.
‘That daft stuff about some boy in a Plague-doctor outfit following you down an alley and molesting you!’ Cate laughed. ‘I don’t know how you came up with it. I knew you had a wild imagination but really! It was so obviously a cry for attention. Gosh, we really were stupid young girls back then.’
Natalie drained her drink in silence.
Cate started to get a bad feeling. A very bad feeling right deep down in her gut.
‘Nat?’
‘I didn’t make up a story.’ Natalie’s white knuckles gripped her empty glass. ‘Everything I said in the dormitory that night was true.’
Cate gasped. ‘Nat… oh my God, Natalie. How awful! Why didn’t I realise? I never meant… I mean… Oh, Natalie, I am so, so sorry.’
Natalie turned away. She signalled for the bill.