Chapter 28
When Abbie and I arrived at Charley’s house, she was ready but obviously frazzled. Lloyd got home an hour later than he promised, so she was rushing getting ready, and quite pissed off. In the taxi to the restaurant, she declared any talk about men was banned for the entire evening. I assumed that included talk about Jude, so I was happy. I have no idea what to tell them. I’ve gone from hating him to adoring him again in a heartbeat.
“Are you guys sure we should go to Amazonico?” I say as we turn the corner onto Berkeley Square.
“It’s my favourite,” Charley says. “We have to go.”
“Yes, but the last time we were there, we made a spectacle of ourselves and didn’t pay.”
“They said we did pay.”
“Except none of us have proof of payment,” I remind them.
“It’ll be fine.” Abbie links arms with me, looking down at my cream silky slip dress. “I love this dress.”
“Thanks.” I scrunch my nose. It’s loose and light, which means it’s not rubbing against the tender flesh of my inner thighs.
We reach the doors, and the doorman lets us pass with the confirmation of our reservation. I watch his face for any recollection of us. There’s none.
“See, it’s fine,” Charley says, giving her name to the ma?tre d’. She too smiles and lets us pass, handing us over to a waiter. Charley gives me a nod of reassurance, and my nerves settle. “Nothing to worry about.”
We’re seated, Abbie grabs the menu, and I start to relax. I recognise our server when he approaches, an Asian guy with both nostrils pierced. He’s who served us last time. And when he falters on his way to the table, I fear the worst.
His disapproval is obvious. “Do I need to get security to guard your table so you can’t leave without paying again?” he asks.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, shrinking into the plush velvet fabric chair. Kill me now. I throw Charley and Abbie a death stare. I told them! But ... wait. I sit up straight. “I called the next day, and your colleague said the bill was settled.”
“By a couple sitting a few tables away,” he says, waggling a condemning—slightly playful—finger at us.
“Wait.” Charley frowns. “Someone paid our bill?”
“Yes, after you’d staggered out, and I realised you’d gone.” He pouts as he pours our water. “I think they took pity on me.”
I look between the girls. They’re thinking what I’m thinking. It isn’t cheap here. Who on earth would pay the bill of three drunken women? “Did they leave their details?”
“Nope.” He smiles. “I’m Fendy—in case you forgot my name—and I’m your server this evening. Please don’t leave without paying again.”
“It was an honest mistake.” I’m mortified. “We had one too many and assumed each other had paid. Like I said, as soon as we realised the next morning, I called.” With a raging headache.
“I know.” He whips out his pad. “Cocktails?”
“Yes, but if we ask for shots, please, please, please refuse us,” Abbie says, and Charley laughs. “I’ll have a Porn Star.” Fendy’s plucked eyebrows hitch. “The martini variety,” she confirms on a coy grin.
We all put in our order and Fendy disappears. “A couple paid for us?” I glance around the restaurant. “So weird.”
“What’s everyone having?” Charley chimes, uninterested.
Me, though? I’m stumped by that.
An hour later, we’ve picked our way through some sharing plates, and none of us have dared have more than two cocktails. Fendy has watched us like a hawk. So embarrassing. I drag my clutch purse off the table and stand. “I need the ladies’,” I declare, leaving the girls.
I use the toilet and stand at the sink washing my hands, my mind naturally wandering. What’s he doing tonight? Damn it, I miss him. I bite at the corner of my lip, feeling the tenderness between my legs, and top up my lipstick, smacking my lips and leaving the ladies’.
I’m halfway across the restaurant when I spot someone I really don’t want to see. “Oh shit.” I pick up my feet and divert around the other way, hoping she doesn’t see me. I dump my arse on the chair. “Get the bill,” I order, making Abbie and Charley recoil. “Katherine is here.” Both their jaws go lax, and they automatically start scanning the restaurant. “Don’t look!” I wave Fendy over. “The bill, please,” I say, smiling, trying to make myself small.
“Who’s she with?” Abbie asks.
I keep my body blocked by Charley’s and peek around her. “I don’t know.” She’s with another woman. “Where’s the bloody bill?”
“She’s pretty,” Abbie muses, and I gape at her. “Sorry. Total troll.”
I shove my phone at Fendy when he holds out the machine, and as soon as it pings the payment has been authorised, I’m up. “Let’s go.” But the moment I stand, the universe fucks me over, and Katherine looks this way. “Oh God,” I whisper as she sits up straight in her chair, interested.
“Does she have an Amelia radar?” Charley stands too, as if showing a united front. “We’ll fight her to the death.”
“Where’s my war paint?” Abbie adds, joining us. “Fuck, she’s coming over.” She lowers back to her chair, but I remain standing, bracing myself for whatever venom she’s going to spit my way.
Kind of.
“Amelia,” she purrs. “How lovely to see you.”
Is it? The last time I was near this woman, Jude nearly had to drag me off her. It takes every effort to smile, and I try so hard to make it genuine, but I know it’s tight.
Katherine’s friend joins her. “Chardonnay, this is Amelia,” she says, eyes still on me.
“Oohh, Amelia?”
“Yes, Jude’s latest plaything.”
“Okay, we’re leaving.” I give wide eyes to the girls.
“Plaything?” Charley laughs, moving in front of me protectively.
“Charley, leave it.”
“Absolutely no fucking way. You’re married. What kind of man is he to be cool with you fucking another guy?”
“Time to go!” Abbie sings, all high-pitched, taking Charley’s elbow. “Before She-Ra lets loose.”
I hate the smug smile on both the women’s faces as we leave. Hate it. “Oohh, Amelia?” I mumble as we all hurry out of the restaurant. “What the hell did she mean by that?”
“She’s obviously been saying lovely things about you to Chardonnay .” Abbie smirks back at me.
“I need a drink.”
Plaything?
“You know, some women just project bitch , don’t they?” Charley links arms with me and smiles. “I’m sorry, but Jude’s got a lot to prove to me, babe.”
My heart sinks. I don’t want my friends to dislike him, but I can hardly blame them. “I know,” I say grudgingly. Will he prove himself?
“But just because I’m wary of him doesn’t mean I’ll stand by and watch some ex-lover of his try to humiliate you.”
“God, I miss this Charley,” Abbie sings, linking my other arm.
“It’s the kids,” Charley declares. “They ignite the inner lioness.”
“Inner?” I ask. “I thought I was going to have to pry your claws out of her eyes.”
“Roarrrrrr,” Charley yells, and we laugh.
After a vow mid-irritated-march to the nearest wine bar to not mention Katherine again, we settle and get our night back on track, being a bit more liberal with our alcohol quota now we’re not being watched as potential drink-and-runs.
We’re on our fifth cocktail, we’re all a little tipsy, have discussed every girlie holiday we’ve ever had, laughed, reminisced, and planned another for next year. We’re going to Barcelona. Abbie’s already scrolling through Airbnb options. It’s long overdue.
“Hey, did either of you two see that reunion invitation?” Charley asks, picking up her phone. “On Facebook.”
“I don’t go on Facebook.” I wave to the waiter for our sixth cocktail. “Same again?” They both toast thin air. “Same again,” I call.
“Reunion?” Abbie opens Facebook on her phone. “I didn’t see any invitation.”
“Here, look.” Charley thrusts her mobile under Abbie’s nose as I open the app on my phone and wince at the endless notifications. “It’s a group,” she goes on. “You’ll have an invite to join. I haven’t accepted yet because I wanted to see if you two will go.”
“Here it is.” I find the invite and click on it.
“I don’t have an invite,” Abbie says. “Who’s organising it?”
I scan the page. “Fiona Fuller.” I press my lips together and notice Charley is pulling the exact same face as me. It’s an oh fuck face.
Abbie gasps. “The fucking bitch,” she blurts, taking my phone and checking the page. Another gasp as she scrolls. “She has literally invited every single person from our year except me.”
“I guess she’s still not over you snogging her boyfriend behind the bike sheds.” I titter on my stool, tipsiness moving aside for drunkenness. “What was his name?”
“Ben Hunter,” Abbie grumbles. “We were sixteen!”
Charley cracks up, and I snort, trying to supress my amusement. Abbie slams the phone down. “I don’t suppose it would be so bad if she hadn’t married him.” Then she necks the rest of her cocktail and practically tackles the waiter for her next when he reaches the table.
An hour later, I’m not even sure what my name is, but I do know we’re all going to Barcelona next spring. I’ve also signed up for golf lessons, Charley’s booked a consultation for a boob job, and Abbie’s applied for the London Marathon. Basically, we’re wankered, and it feels so good. So freeing. No talk of men, no stressing about what this means, what that means. It’s just us being our old selves before jobs, careers, responsibilities, and babies changed everything. As Abbie wobbles her way back to the table with yet another round, my phone lights up on the table. I squint and smile when I see who’s messaging me.
Abbie gets her face up close and personal with my mobile. “Oh, it’s Jude Fuckboy Harrison,” she slurs.
“Or Jude Fuckboy Millionaire Harrison,” Charley sings, swiping up her drink. “A filthy-rich man who does dirty, filthy things to you.” She cheers the air, her drink spilling over the edge. “Here’s to filthy!”
“Filthy!” we all sing.
I’m not so drunk I can’t remember the filthy things he’s done to me. I grin to myself. Then frown. Did I tell the girls about the champagne cellar? Abbie reaches for my phone and taps the message, then puts in my passcode. “I hope you had a lovely evening with your girls,” she reads, in a shockingly bad and very slurry male’s voice. “What time shall I pick you up tomorrow?” She frowns. Looks at me. “You’re seeing him tomorrow?”
“I thought we weren’t talking about men tonight?”
“No men!” Charley yells.
“He’s fucked up.” I scowl to myself, wondering where that came from.
“What?”
“That’s what he said,” I go on. “He’s fucked up.” The best thing I could do was leave, except he didn’t let me when I tried. Not that I really wanted to.
“Have you asked him about that?” Abbie says, her serious face contradicting the slur of her voice.
“He said he doesn’t want to ruin this. That he should have told me about Katherine.” I’m a fuckup. The anger he was projecting when he bellowed those words makes me feel like there’s more to it. Why would he tell me to leave and crack on with my life? Jesus, I’m too drunk to give this the headspace it deserves.
“That is quite sweet, though.” Charley smiles to herself. “Jude texting her.”
“Is he allowed to be sweet if he’s filthy?” Abbie asks.
“I don’t know.” Charley pouts. “Let’s call him and ask.” She lunges for my phone and hits the contact icon on the top. It’s ringing before my drunken brain can register what’s happening.
“Amelia?” Jude’s voice is low and thick with sleepiness.
Abbie and Charley put the backs of their hands on their foreheads, fainting over the table. Then they spring up. “Filthy!” they yell in unison, before they fall apart laughing. I must be drunker than I thought. I have no idea what’s going on.
“Amelia?” Jude says, louder this time. “Are you okay?”
“Jude?” I pick up my phone and put it to my ear.
“I’m here.”
“Fuck!” I cry, feeling like a megaphone’s held by my head.
“It’s on speaker, you dick.” Abbie chuckles.
“Amelia, what’s going on?” Jude asks. “Where are you?”
I look around, picking up my fresh cocktail and slurping. “In a wine bar.” I close one eye, trying to read the neon sign on one of the shelves behind the bar. “Gropes Cock.”
“What?”
Charley’s cheeks balloon and burst, spraying us. “Shit!” I blurt. “Furry cocks ache.” I stand to wipe myself down. I shouldn’t have. “Oh fear.” I sway, seeing three of Charley and four of Abbie. “We need to book more flights if we’re all going.” I fall back to the stool, the bar spinning, Abbie’s and Charley’s laughing faces blurring in and out of focus. “I think I’ve had too many winetails.”
And that’s the end of my night.