Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
SUMMER 2011
Two weeks after that first night with Patch, I took Rowan and Clara out for ice cream in a park near Rowan’s flat. Clara had strawberry, Rowan coffee pecan, and I had pistachio. Although, inevitably, Clara spilled hers down her front and Rowan and I had to share ours to console her.
‘God knows if she’ll sleep tonight,’ Rowan said. ‘They weren’t shy with the espresso in that.’
As if she’d already felt the caffeine hit, Clara went dashing off over the grass, her legs chubby and strong under her blue cotton dress.
‘Ro? Is it okay if I tell you something?’
‘You’re seeing Patch, aren’t you?’
I twisted my sticky fingers in my paper napkin. ‘Yeah. I mean, kind of.’
‘I hope it’s not “kind of”,’ Rowan said sternly.
‘What? Why?’
‘Because it’s been blatantly obvious from day dot that you were head-over-heels smitten with him, and if there’s any “kind of” about it, you’ll get hurt for sure.’
‘It’s been over between him and Zara for weeks.’ I felt compelled to get this vital detail in early.
‘I figured. I mean, you wouldn’t have let it happen if it wasn’t, right?’
‘Of course not.’ I realised I was biting the skin around my thumbnail, and tucked my hand down in my lap. ‘I feel bad enough as it is.’
Rowan sighed. ‘I’m not surprised. It’s not going to be easy.’
‘But it’s okay, isn’t it?’ I pleaded. ‘He wasn’t cheating on her with me.’
‘I’m sure he wasn’t. Zara’s going to be cut up about it, but relationships end. Shit happens. Have you told her about it?’
I shook my head. ‘Patch has. He said she’s okay about it – well, okay-ish.’
‘Don’t you think you should speak to her?’
I put my feet up on the bench and hugged my knees, watching Clara run across the grass then plop down on her bottom and start pulling up daisies with her chubby little hands. If only my life could be as simple as hers was, I thought, with love guaranteed and heartbreak solved by a spoonful of gelato.
‘Nome?’ Rowan asked. ‘Don’t you think?—’
‘I should speak to Zara? Yeah, I know I should. But I’m…’
‘Scared?’
I nodded.
‘Look, I’m not saying you’ve done anything wrong.’ Rowan turned to look at me, pushing up her sunglasses. There was only kindness and concern on her face. ‘But at the same time, you need to own what’s happened. There might be consequences. Zara probably won’t take this well and putting off speaking to her isn’t going to make it any easier.’
‘But she—’ I began, and then I stopped myself. The suspicions I had about Zara’s own behaviour towards Patch – more than suspicions, now, more like a cast-iron certainty – would change everything, if I were to disclose them to Rowan and the others.
But I couldn’t do that. I’d made a promise to her, and I didn’t break promises to my friends. And besides, if the truth got out to the wider group, it would be only a matter of time before Patch found out. He’d be hurt – more than hurt – and I didn’t want to be the cause of that. Also, what if he were to probe me and discover how long I’d known about Zara’s infidelity without having told him? I didn’t want that, either.
Zara’s secret would have to remain a secret. There was simply no alternative.
‘But she what?’ Rowan persisted.
‘She’s in Paris,’ I said feebly.
‘She’s coming to London on the second Wednesday of next month,’ Rowan said firmly. ‘She told Kate and Kate told Abbie and Abbie told me. Put it off until then, if you want. Speak to her when we’re all there. What’s she going to do, bite you?’
I giggled nervously. ‘I guess not.’
‘Exactly. Big girl pants on, and just do it. It’ll be okay.’
She hugged me and kissed my cheek, her lips smelling of coffee, and a few seconds later Clara ran over and jumped on the bench with us and we all had a cuddle in the warm sunshine.
Despite Rowan’s assurances, I felt more and more anxious as the next Girlfriends’ Club meeting approached. Patch was offshore again, so we could only communicate through text and brief phone calls and I didn’t want to burden him with my worries about Zara. Every time my phone rang or vibrated, I felt a leap of excitement and hope that it would be him, then immediately a lurch of fear that it would be her.
Rowan was right, I told myself. The sooner I’d spoken to her and cleared the air, the better. I might not get her blessing for Patch’s and my relationship, but at least we’d all be able to move forward. Our friends would be there, on hand to support me and comfort Zara. In time, I thought in my rare moments of optimism about the whole thing, we’d all be able to look back on this and laugh.
Still, as that Wednesday approached, I found myself as nervous as if I was going to a job interview – or had a performance appraisal at which all my shortcomings would be laid bare and judged. I longed to seek reassurance from Patch or Rowan, or even pre-empt the evening’s confrontation by messaging Zara. But I couldn’t think what I would say to any of them. All I could do was wait, resolve to turn up and take whatever punishment Zara was going to dish out to me.
By seven thirty, I was at the appointed meeting place – a busy Central London wine bar with glass tables, tubular chrome chairs and face-brick walls hung with abstract artworks in lurid shades of purple, green and orange. It was a venue we’d never visited before and, fighting my way through crowds of noisy City office workers to reach the bar, I hoped we never would again.
I eventually managed to secure a bottle of rosé, five glasses and a tiny bowl of olives that I parsimoniously calculated cost about 50p each, and made my way back to our table. There I sat, my glass dripping with condensation and my palms damp with sweat, and waited.
Rowan was first to arrive. She hurried in, pausing at the entrance and glancing around with worry in her eyes. All the way from across the room, I could read her thoughts: I’m late. Am I too late? I half-stood and waved to her and she hurried over, relieved.
‘Oh, thank God. Bloody Paul was late picking Clara up; I was worried I’d abandoned you.’
‘It’s okay.’ I managed a nervous smile. ‘The others are even later.’
‘Now, you need to stop worrying, okay?’ Rowan splashed wine into her glass. ‘It’s just the Girlfriends’ Club, right? Zara’s your friend. Even if she takes this badly, it’ll be okay. You’ll get through it.’
‘I hope so.’ I realised my hands were shaking, and took a big gulp of wine.
And then I saw them: Kate, Abbie and Zara, arriving together. Abbie was wearing faded skinny jeans and trainers. Kate was in one of the tailored shift dresses she wore when she needed to impress someone at work. Zara was wearing a silk scarf-print mini dress that showed off her slim, tanned arms and legs, outsize black sunglasses obscuring most of her face.
As soon as I saw the three of them, pushing shoulder-to-shoulder through the glass door, laughing, the sun bright on their hair, I thought, They’ve been talking about me.
Rowan must have seen the alarm on my face. ‘It’s okay, Nome. We’ve got this.’
As I watched, they exchanged a few more words, laughing again. Then Zara headed to the bar and Abbie and Kate came over to join us. We all exchanged hugs, just as we always did, but something felt different – wrong.
Before anyone could launch into the usual chat about how everyone’s day had been, how glorious it was to see sunshine after weeks of rain, the excitement of the forthcoming London 2012 Olympics and all the rest of it, I felt the need to set out my stall.
‘This is kind of awkward,’ I began, fortifying myself with another large gulp of wine. ‘Seeing Zara. I feel like I have to apologise to her.’
I looked at the three faces around the table, watching me silently. Rowan’s was supportive – Go on, Naomi. I’m here. But Abbie and Kate looked more solemn, almost stern.
I felt as if I was a defendant in the witness box, my barrister preparing to let me speak my truth, the prosecution lining up to catch me out in any inconsistencies, and the victim waiting in the background for justice to be served.
‘Is she okay?’ I asked tentatively. ‘I haven’t spoken to her since… you know.’
‘Since you nicked her boyfriend off her,’ Kate said. Her voice was lighthearted, but there was an edge to her words I couldn’t hide from.
Abbie gave her a look that said, Steady on.
‘Is that what she thinks?’ This was getting off to an even worse start than I’d feared. ‘Is it really? Because that’s not what happened.’
Over at the bar, I could see Zara leaning over, chatting to the barman, his smile flashing out at something she’d said.
‘She’s hurting, Naomi,’ Abbie explained. ‘Of course she’s upset. She feels kind of betrayed by what happened.’
‘I suppose she does,’ I said miserably. ‘I never meant for it to turn out this way, but it has.’
Zara turned back towards us, a silver ice bucket in her hands, and started to make her way towards the table. To anyone else in the room, she must have looked like just another attractive woman, maybe more than usually well dressed for a Wednesday evening. To me, she looked like an avenging angel.
She slipped into the free chair, setting the ice bucket down on the table, and looked at me. Her green eyes were like chips of glass.
I took a deep breath. ‘Hi, Zara.’
‘Hi, Naomi.’ Her tone was mocking.
‘It’s good to see you,’ I began. ‘It’s good because I wanted to say all this to you in person, and try and explain. About Patch and me. The thing is, as long as you were with him, nothing would’ve ever happened. I promise. I would never have let it and nor would he, because it would’ve been wrong.’
Zara nodded. ‘And so you had to make sure he and I weren’t together any more, so you could make your grubby little move.’
‘I didn’t!’ I felt my face flame. ‘I liked him. I’m not going to deny it – it would be stupid to deny it. He and I wouldn’t be together now if there hadn’t been something – the potential of something between us. But I’d never, ever have acted on it unless you’d split up.’
‘You must be able to see how it looks, though, Nome,’ Kate said. ‘I love you – we all love you. But, you know. Girl code.’
‘What does girl code say, though?’ Rowan interjected. ‘That Patch isn’t allowed to get together with anyone Zara knows? Or that he and Naomi could date, but only if they waited however many months or years, like a Victorian mourning period? Help me out here, because I don’t understand.’
‘People deserve to be happy.’ Abbie herself looked abjectly miserable. ‘But when it’s at the expense of someone else’s happiness it makes it all… It makes it difficult.’
‘Come on,’ I said. ‘Let’s say I decided I wanted to steal Patch from Zara. Let’s do a whatchamacallit – a thought experiment. Let’s say he had no say in the matter at all, and it was all down to me. Let’s say everything was perfect between them. How would I have done it? Because I know for a fact I couldn’t have, even if I’d wanted to.’
‘You did, though.’ Zara looked at me steadily. ‘You did the one thing you knew would work. Because he wouldn’t have ended it with me any other way. You told him I’d been cheating on him. You lied to get him for yourself.’
I was blindsided – not just by the falsehood of Zara’s accusation, but by the truth that lay so close to its surface. And as her words began to sink in, the injustice of them smarted even more. I could have done what she was accusing me of, months or even years before. Even when my feelings for Patch had been barely more than friendship, I could have told him what I knew, not out of self-interest, but to protect his feelings.
But I hadn’t, because of the promise I’d made to her.
‘Did you, Naomi?’ Kate asked. ‘Seriously? Because that would be?—’
Again, I looked at the faces around the table: Zara’s alight with anger, Kate doubtful, Abbie looking like she might be about to cry, Rowan flushed with rage on my behalf. Suddenly, I didn’t want to defend myself any longer. I didn’t want to do anything that would widen the fault lines I could sense already opening up in our friendship. I didn’t want Rowan, Kate and Abbie to be forced to take sides. I didn’t want me or Zara to be forced out. I wanted things to stay the way they were between us, and I was willing to do whatever it took to achieve that.
‘Stop,’ I said. ‘Please. Can’t we just stop? I’m sorry what happened hurt you, Zara. I really am. And I’m sorry it’s put the rest of you in an impossible position. I never said anything to Patch about you, Zara, and I never would. But that’s not important. What matters is us – this friendship. I don’t want to fuck it up, not for anything. Not for a man. Not even for Patch.’
‘What are you saying?’ Rowan asked, her eyes wide.
‘I’ll end it with him,’ I said. ‘If it’s going to cause a rift between the five of us and that’s what it’d take to fix it, then that’s what I’ll do.’
‘Don’t be mad, Nome.’ Abbie looked like she had just awoken from a dream. ‘That’s just – it’s not necessary. Relationships end. You can’t throw away your happiness because?—’
‘I agree with Abbie,’ Rowan said. ‘Honestly, Zara, I know it’s tough for you. We’ll all be here for you. But you can’t blame Naomi for what happened. She’s said she would never have deliberately set out to hurt you and I believe her.’
‘I believe you too, Nome,’ Kate said. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t for a while. It was unfair of me.’
Zara’s eyes darted round the table, not still like glass any more but like dragonflies in flight, skimming over the surface of water. For a moment, I felt as if I was able to step inside her head, think what she was thinking.
They’ve chosen Naomi. They’ve chosen her over me, same as Patch did.
It wasn’t true, but I could see why she felt that way. Perhaps I’d have felt like that too, in her position.
‘Really, Zara.’ I half-stood, reaching my hands out to her. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so very?—’
‘No, you’re not.’ Her chair scraped back at she got to her feet, the table tilting and the glasses slipping as she leaned over to me, her lips twisted with anger. I could smell cigarette smoke on her breath and perfume on her hair. ‘You’re not one bit sorry. I know women like you – you act like a timid little mouse but you’re a snake. You’ve got what you wanted now. Wait and see if it makes you happy – I know where my money is.’
‘Zara, come on,’ Kate interjected. ‘I know you’re upset, but try and calm?—’
‘Calm down? You’re seriously expecting me to calm down after what she’s done? And all of you falling in line because sweet little Naomi deserves to get what she wants? I’m not going to calm the fuck down and I’m not going to be part of this pathetic little clique for one more minute.’
Zara’s hand swept over the table and for a second I wondered whether she was going to send all our glasses crashing to the floor, like a magician’s trick gone horribly wrong. But she didn’t.
She picked up her bag and drained the last of the wine in her glass, perched her sunglasses on top of her head and looked at us.
‘Girlfriends’ Club,’ she spat. ‘My God. You women wouldn’t know friendship if it bit you in the arse. And it will – just wait and see.’
She wheeled round on her high heels and stalked away, straight through the crowded room to the exit door and out into the street.
There was a moment of dead silence after she left. Then Kate burst into shocked, almost hysterical laughter; Rowan started to cry; Abbie embraced her and found her a tissue. Everyone asked if I was all right, and I said I just hoped Zara was all right. We talked of little else that evening – what we could have done differently, whether Zara would change her mind and whether the friendship could ever recover if she did, whether we should contact her and if so who, and when.
I don’t think I contributed much to the conversation, though. I was torn between guilt, relief and an overwhelming shadow of fear: what if Zara wasn’t done with me yet?