Chapter 34
‘I am all astonishment. How long has she been such a favourite?’
The next day passed in eerie silence on the Chase front. No furious phone calls or mysterious flowers arriving at reception. I went about my day at Rivertide tackling the usual chaos: frozen desktops, jammed printers, and a legion of demanding users.
By lunchtime I was covertly trawling through the classifieds in both local newspapers, circling apartment listings while shovelling in a Caesar salad at my desk.
The decent ones were miles out of my price range.
The ones I could technically afford, if I stopped eating, were in neighbourhoods I’d never heard of, on the wrong side of the tracks.
It was all very hush-hush. I hadn’t told anyone at work.
I didn’t want pity, or any questions I couldn’t yet answer.
Dom and Alice knew. I’d phoned them both in the middle of the night, running up the Fuller Sr’s phone bill.
Alice said she’d guessed as much. I’d sworn Dom to secrecy, told him not to say a word to Mum and Dad. Not yet.
The American Dream had turned out to be a tragedy.
When I got back to Bunny and Chase Sr’s, I found the kitchen in chaos. Rose-Anne had been fired. Apparently she’d insulted Bunny’s hair in passing, which was enough to ensure instant exile. With no one to stir the risotto or warm the plates, Bunny declared that we’d be dining at the club.
Problem was, I only had jeans and plaid shirts in the flat. Bunny tutted dramatically and disappeared into a wardrobe the size of a small house, emerging with a lime-green and pink Pucci wrap dress. Circa 1975.
‘You must keep it,’ she said, clapping her hands when I emerged.
‘Thanks,’ I muttered, folding my arms self-consciously across the cleavage that had suddenly appeared without warning.
Chase Sr was already downstairs, unlocking the Rolls.
‘What are you doing?’ Bunny called, alarmed. ‘Take the station wagon!’
‘No, Bunny,’ he said smoothly, ‘we’re going up in style tonight. It’s not every day I get to take two beautiful women out.’
He was the only man on earth who could charm Bunny like that. She giggled and waved her bangled arm in his direction like a debutante. ‘Mais oui, cheri.’
The back of the Rolls smelled like money: aged leather, varnished walnut, and a faint whiff of a long-dead cigar.
I sat in silence as we glided through the streets, past glinting gates and manicured hedges.
From the outside, I looked like I belonged: glossy hair, vintage Pucci, a Fuller-by-marriage in the back of a vintage Rolls.
People would’ve thought I was the poster girl for the American fairy tale.
At the club, the valet jogged over and Bunny leaned out with a warning. ‘Mind you park it carefully, young man.’
We headed into the colonial fever dream bar with its wicker chairs, and paddle fans.
Bunny began circulating. Chase Sr took my arm and led me to a corner table. ‘Let’s leave her to it,’ he whispered. ‘I can’t stand most of them.’
He ordered gin and tonics from Dolmino, the long-suffering waiter, along with a set of dominoes.
We played fives and threes and he regaled me with stories from his Far East trading days – Shanghai girls, Macau gambling, and a reveal of a brief flirtation with becoming a Buddhist monk. He was always good company.
Then Bunny returned. ‘Look who I’ve just found!’
And there he was. Chase, dressed in blue blazer and chinos, pupils like pinpricks.
‘Hi, honey!’
He kissed me. I tasted vodka.
‘I thought this would be a divine surprise,’ Bunny trilled, pleased as punch with her Machiavellian timing.
Chase sat down beside me, grabbing my hand like he owned it. I wanted to snatch it away, but we were at the club. There were rules.
‘That dress suits you,’ he said, eyes fixed on my chest. ‘My English rose.’
I could feel his thumb circling the back of my hand. Bunny beamed. Chase Sr grimaced.
‘Vodka tonic, Dolmino!’ Chase shouted.
Dinner followed. Overcooked beef, too much wine, and an increasingly fractured table dynamic. No one mentioned Milan, or me living above the garage. Everyone pretended everything was fine, which only made it more unbearable.
I excused myself and made a detour to the ladies.
I was washing my hands when the door opened and in walked Candice.
‘Why hello, Florence. Finally wearing a dress that works,’ she purred. ‘Vintage suits you.’
‘Thanks,’ I said, wondering whether I could drown her in the sink.
‘Chase tells me you’ve had a bit of a tiff. All okay now though?’
I blinked. How did she know that?
‘We talk often, you know. Families like ours. It’s important we stay close.’
I stared at her, the full picture coming into view. The club, hushed phone calls. She’d been there all along. A silent third party to my marriage.
‘Families like ours?’ I said. ‘You mean the kind where men cheat and women smile through it for the sake of diamonds?’
Her expression flickered, just for a moment.
‘I hate to disappoint you, but Chase hasn’t just been confiding in you, Candice. He’s got a girl in every port. Last stop was Carmen in Milan.’
That did it. A muscle tightened at her jaw. The mask slipped, only slightly, but it was enough.
I walked out before she could answer. Straight to valet parking where I snatched the Rolls keys from the attendant’s startled hand and tore out of there like a woman possessed.
I didn’t even know how to drive the damn thing properly, but I figured if I crashed, at least it would make for a poetic end to the evening.
Chase, Candice, the house, the Fullers. They were in the rear-view mirror now, in a life that had never really been mine.
I didn’t know where I was going. I just knew it wasn’t back.
It was time for something new.