Chapter 29
29
W hen Cassie woke up, she was alone and disorientated for a few blissfully ignorant moments, then it all came rushing back like a tidal wave of icy, dirty water.
She’d drunk too much. Her head felt as if it was stuffed full of cotton-wool balls and she was hideously dry-mouthed. But the hangover from too much champagne, then switching to red wine at some point in the evening, was nothing to the emotional hangover. Heather. Lucy. The fighting. The tears.
But mostly, those two deep conversations with Marc. She hadn’t just laid her soul bare, she’d laid her body bare too. Despite all the good reasons not to, she’d had sex with Marc.
Fuck me once, shame on you. Fuck me twice, shame on me.
Now she was sore and aching and she couldn’t even blame it on all the booze. She’d been on her knees for ages last night as she’d ridden Marc slowly, then he’d fucked her into the floor. Cassie was too old to be fucked into the floor. No wonder her back was killing her.
While Cassie was taking this scenic tour of all of yesterday’s most horrific highlights, she couldn’t forget the way Marc had recoiled from her touch once the afterglow had worn off. He might not have disappeared while she was cleaning her teeth, but he’d definitely reverted to type.
It was just about sex for him. But it was so much more than that for Cassie because of her stupid, fallible heart. No matter how much she thought she’d grown as a person, underneath the semi-sophisticated surface that had been buffeted and made glossy by all those premium beauty products, she was still that na?ve, hopeful twenty-one-year-old that had been seduced then discarded. Even after sixteen years of the condescending, knowing smirk on Marc’s face when he looked her way, all he had to do was throw her a few small crumbs of comfort and off came her knickers again.
Worse than that, Cassie had told him things, including her most secret fears, and now she wished that she could take them all back.
Cassie couldn’t bear to replay her latest idiocies over and over again. A brief look at her phone to discover it was nearly ten o’clock had her stumbling out of bed with several muttered swear words. It was amazing how late you could sleep when you’d had too much to drink, and three orgasms. She really had to stop thinking about the sex except when she was telling Marc that they would no longer be having it. It was a one off-thing. Never to be repeated.
When Cassie emerged from a very perfunctory and very quick shower – she didn’t want Marc to come back to the room and find her naked and think she was raring for another go – she gave herself a long, hard look in the mirror.
Her reflection, ashen and red-eyed, frowned back at her. She’d gone to bed with her hair damp and now it was frizzy and sticking up in odd and random places. Her head was too tender to even contemplate her usual bad-hair-day plaits, so she settled for a loose ponytail.
When she drew back the curtains it was to a day that was as grey as her mood. The sky bulged with the promise of rain to come. It felt as if summer was now over and a cold, damp autumn had already arrived.
As she came downstairs, in a clean pair of joggers and her beloved oversized hoodie, the house was quiet and still, although there were tempting aromas of bacon and coffee. Cassie followed her nose to the kitchen where Lucy was pouring boiling water into a mug.
‘Great timing. Do you want a coffee?’
‘Yes please.’ The words felt lumpy in Cassie’s mouth. She hauled herself up on a stool, then slumped over the kitchen island. ‘I can’t believe I slept so late.’
‘Marc said not to wake you.’ Lucy held up the jar of instant coffee. ‘He also gave me very detailed instructions for the coffee machine, which I’ve already forgotten. Your usual?’
Lucy knew exactly how Cassie liked her coffee. Two teaspoons of coffee. Then one third semi-skimmed milk to two thirds boiling water.
‘Nectar of the gods.’ Cassie closed her eyes as she took the first appreciative sip. ‘Has he gone for a run?’
‘Marc? Yes. I don’t know how he can run with a sore head,’ Lucy said as she opened the fridge.
So at least this time, although technically he’d done a runner again, he was planning to come back. ‘He’s got a sore head?’
‘Hangover or sleep-deprived or both.’ Lucy closed the fridge door and turned to Cassie with her wickedest smile. ‘I can’t imagine why he’d be sleep-deprived but Iris said you were both being quite loud last night.’
Hands that were hot from holding a mug of coffee didn’t do much to cool down Cassie’s face. ‘Just don’t,’ she warned. ‘And no, I won’t be taking any questions at this time.’ She held up a warning finger as Lucy opened her mouth. ‘Or at any other time. Where is everyone?’
‘Iris and Bill have taken their breakfast back to bed, and Anita and Az and Digby and Kwame have gone into Brighton for brunch, then to a supermarket. They need some fancy extra ingredients for lunch today and somehow we’ve run out of food. There are hardly any crisps left,’ she added with a real note of panic to her voice.
‘And I’m here,’ said a very small voice from behind Cassie, who swivelled round on the stool to see Heather curled into a tiny ball in the corner of the nearest sofa. She was still wearing her pyjamas and looked even rougher than Cassie felt. ‘But not for long.’
Cassie waited for an apology for the way Heather had behaved the previous night, or even a thank you for making sure that she didn’t choke on her own vomit, but she’d have a bloody long wait. Whatever. Even though she never failed to surprise Cassie with just how self-involved and gaslighty she could be, Cassie was used to Heather after all this time.
‘Oh, I didn’t see you there,’ Cassie said breezily.
‘For now,’ Heather insisted.
Cassie and Lucy managed to roll their eyes in near perfect unison. ‘Heather and Davy have to go home early. Some kind of domestic emergency, apparently,’ Lucy explained. ‘Davy is packing.’
‘I don’t know why you’re saying it like that, as if it’s just an excuse,’ Heather said in an injured tone. ‘It’s hardly my fault that the washing machine’s leaking.’
‘I thought you said it was the boiler!’ Lucy snapped back.
‘That does sound like a pain. Hopefully if there’s any damage, your insurance will sort it out,’ Cassie said soothingly because she couldn’t bear to be witness to another argument between the two of them and, quite frankly, Heather and Davy going home early was the best news she’d had in ages. Cassie was even tempted to help them pack.
There was no need for such drastic action. ‘OK, car’s loaded up. Ah, ladies.’ Davy stuck his head round the arch at the other end of the long room. ‘We’ll be off now. Unless … did you want to get dressed?’
Heather uncurled herself and glared at her husband. ‘If I’d wanted to get dressed, I’d have got dressed. These are silk. It’s not like I’m wearing some ratty pyjamas and an old dressing gown. No offence, Cassie.’
‘None taken,’ Cassie said, as she and Lucy shared another incredulous look at the sheer nerve. Cassie was pretty sure that Heather had never seen her in ratty pyjamas and an old dressing gown, but she let the diss go unchecked. Just sign her up for a sainthood.
To make sure that Heather was actually leaving the premises, Cassie and Lucy waved them off from the front steps, then walked back into the house arm in arm.
‘You weren’t tempted to tell her about Russell?’ Cassie asked softly.
Lucy shook her head. ‘No. Because she’d find a way to make it all about her, probably by telling as many people as possible.’ She assumed a haughty face. ‘Oh, it just slipped out and they were going to know eventually. God, Lucy, why are you being like this?’
Even without Lucy’s uncanny impersonation, Cassie could imagine it only too well. ‘Is Russell all right after yesterday? It was quite full-on.’
‘He’s fine. Tired. I made him take a sleeping pill last night.’
They were back in their previous positions, Cassie on her stool, Lucy standing on the other side of the kitchen island. Cassie reached across the marble worktop to take her friend’s hand. ‘And how are you?’
‘I’m fine,’ Lucy was quick to say.
‘Really?’
‘On the surface I’m fine but my heart, Cass … my heart is very, very heavy,’ Lucy said in her squeaky, gravelly voice.
‘You never have to pretend that you’re fine with me. You can be as unfine as you need to be.’
‘I know.’
Neither of them said anything but they held hands until Cassie’s stomach, barely satisfied with a mug of coffee, rumbled in protest.
Lucy broke free with a laugh. ‘You need feeding.’
Cassie rubbed her tummy. ‘Is there anything left to eat? I feel like all I’ve done since I got here is stuff my face.’
‘I can do you an egg mcmuffin/French toast hybrid with one rasher of bacon, one egg, a stale croissant and a shit ton of butter.’ Lucy opened the fridge again. ‘And some tomato on the side to be healthy.’
‘That might keep me going until Digby and Kwame’s Sunday roast. Because we both know that when they said it will be ready by three …’
‘We’ll be lucky if we sit down to eat at five …’
‘I thought six,’ Cassie grinned. ‘Care to place a small bet?’
Cassie wolfed down her delicious breakfast and had another mug of coffee while they FaceTimed the girls and Ryan who were planning to go out for bubble tea, then spend the day binging a Netflix K-drama. A very pale Iris and an even paler Bill came down with their breakfast plates and said that they were going to drive to the Sussex Downs for some fresh air ‘because Nurofen hasn’t touched the sides of the hangover’.
Then Marc and Russell appeared like two apparitions on the terrace.
Even though she’d been expecting it, Cassie still gave a nervous start when Marc tapped on the patio door. As Lucy hurried to open it, Cassie assumed a neutral expression, bland as a bowl of unseasoned porridge.
‘Good morning – or should that be good afternoon?’ Russell sounded chipper but despite the sleeping pill, he looked tired. It could be the weak light from outside but there was a grey tinge to his face, and as Cassie went to hug him, he drew back a little. ‘Gently, please.’
Cassie drew back too. ‘I could pat you on the arm, if you’d prefer,’ she said, trying to make light of it, but suddenly her heart felt very heavy too.
‘A pat would be lovely and anyway, I don’t want Marc offering to fight me for putting my hands on his woman,’ Russell said, with a sly glance at Marc, which was more like the old Russell; the Russell that Cassie was already missing.
‘Hardly,’ Marc said. He was in his running gear, pink-cheeked and glowing. Compared to Russell, he was rude with good health. ‘Cassie is very much her own woman and it wouldn’t be a fair fight. We both know I’ve always been able to take you.’ He smelled of the outdoors, of wet grass and sea salt, when he put a stiff arm round Cassie and brushed his lips against her cheek. Today Cassie couldn’t find her motivation to play the other half of a blissfully happy couple. She held herself very still and made no attempt to lean into the kiss or the man, who gave her a curious look.
‘What’s wrong?’ he hissed in her ear as Lucy and Russell’s attention was on each other.
The limpness of Cassie’s smile barely raised the corners of her lips. ‘Nothing. I’m good,’ she assured him.
Marc stepped away from her. Now his face was blank too. As if hiding your true feelings was a big trend for autumn. He ran a hand through his hair. ‘I’m going to hit the shower and Russ, you can explain your ridiculous scheme to your wife and see what she thinks about it.’
Cassie inwardly sighed with relief as Marc headed out of the room and, glad of the distraction, turned to Russell, who took Lucy’s hand and placed it over his heart.
‘No. No. Whatever it is, the answer’s no,’ Lucy said as sharply as her voice allowed.
‘But sweetheart, angel, my darling girl …’ It was Russell at his most ingratiating. There hadn’t been quite so many endearments but that was how he’d roped Cassie into organising this weekend in the first place.
Cassie slid down from the stool. ‘I’ll leave you two alone.’
Lucy’s hand shot out to wrap around Cassie’s wrist in a strong grip. ‘Don’t go anywhere. I have a feeling that I’m going to need back-up.’
‘It’s nothing bad. I slept well. I feel great,’ Russell said but his exuberance was tattered at the edges. ‘I want to go down to the beach.’
That didn’t seem so dreadful. Lucy nodded as if she was thinking the same thing. ‘Oh! OK! Yeah, we can go to the beach. I can drive us down to the village and where do we go from there, Cass?’
Cassie tried to remember what Lydia had said. ‘I think there’s a little path – it’s not a long walk. I can look it up.’
‘No, I want to go down to this beach.’ Russell gestured to the garden outside the windows. ‘I have so many happy childhood memories of the cove. And it’s just down a few steps. It’s not going to be too arduous.’
‘I don’t think you’re remembering the steps too well,’ Lucy said, sending a pleading look at Cassie. ‘There’s a lot of them and they’re very narrow and very steep. Going down them was bad enough, but …’
‘Going back up was really hard-going.’ Cassie took her cue. ‘Also, it looks like it’s going to rain.’
‘I’ll take it slowly,’ Russell insisted. ‘The forecast says it’s not going to rain for another couple of hours. We won’t be that long.’
‘I don’t think it’s a very good idea,’ Lucy said, stroking Russell’s cheek. ‘You overdid it yesterday.’
‘There’s a bench at the bottom of the garden just before the cliff edge. Maybe you could look down at the cove?’ Cassie suggested, but Russell wasn’t having any of it.
‘Let’s be honest with each other: this is probably going to be my last chance to walk on a beach. Have a paddle, feel the sand between my toes. If that’s the case, then I want it to be this beach.’
Yes, Russell was easy-going and affable but he was also one of the most determined people Cassie knew. His whole career was testimony to that. He was a person who made things happen, usually by getting other people to bend to his very charming will. Now he would not be swayed and Lucy, given the circumstances, let herself be convinced.