Chapter 10
‘How long do you think I have to stay?’
‘You’re not thinking about doing a runner just so you can go home and see you-know-who, are you?’ Alice was suddenly sitting bolt upright on the bed, scrutinising me intently through the phone. I forced my mouth into a smile.
‘Of course not,’ I lied. But the truth was, I would much rather be home with Joe right now than spending the night playing Mr & Mrs with my brother’s fiancée and her mums-gone-wild group of girlfriends. ‘And you can say Joe’s name, Alice. He’s not bloody he-who-must-not-be-named!’
I jumped as a pair of black peep toe stilettoes appeared at the bottom of my bathroom stall, that instant flash of panic as the door rattled against the flimsy catch and I imagined someone barging in on me on the toilet.
Not that there was anything to see. I was fully clothed, phone balanced precariously atop the toilet roll dispenser as I perched just as gingerly on the closed toilet lid, trying to touch as little as possible.
Then again, the fact that I was a grown-ass woman hiding in the disabled loo was arguably more embarrassing than being caught with my knickers round my ankles.
‘Occupied!’ I yelled.
Black Stilettoes tottered unsteadily to the next stall, the shared wall between us rattling when she slammed the door shut with the excessive force of someone who was already five tequila shots in.
A stray tampon and an XL wide-fit foil Durex packet – wishful thinking sweetheart – skidded across the floor into my stall as her handbag fell to the floor.
Well, at least she was prepared for every eventuality.
‘Excuse me, I did not spend the best part of two hours making you look socially acceptable only for you to hide in the bathroom all night,’ Jacob said sternly, wagging his finger at the camera.
I tugged at the hem of the black skin-tight dress Jacob had insisted I wear, after declaring everything else in my wardrobe either too bleurgh or so 2012 .
It was short. As in, I had to be careful I didn’t flash everyone my nude M&S control pants when I sat down, short.
‘What the fuck are those?’ Jacob had cried earlier that evening while I was getting ready, his face contorting with disgust at the reams of elasticated material.
‘These are a necessity. They keep everything in,’ I’d explained breathlessly, mid-way through the five-minute body-wiggling battle to get them on. I won. Just.
‘Keep everyone out more like,’ I’d heard Jacob mutter.
I caught sight of my reflection in the tiny square in the bottom right-hand corner of my phone, blinking twice just to check it was really me.
My hair hung in soft, delicate waves around my face, courtesy of Jacob and his GHDs.
Smoky eyeshadow and lashes that were not my own made my eyes look wide and awake for once, my cheeks a healthy rosy colour, my lips a bold, seductive red.
Alice’s left eyeball filled her half of the screen as she moved the phone closer.
She let out a low whistle. ‘Damn, Jacob, I don’t know how you did it, but Jenny, you look hot. ’
‘Hey!’
‘Alice is right, I’m a bloody miracle worker,’ Jacob declared, ignoring my half-hearted protest. ‘Now get out there and show off the fruits of my labour.’
‘Yeah, go have some fun. One of us should.’ Alice yawned, closing her eyes.
‘Fine,’ I grumbled, with the reluctance of someone who’d just been told to walk over hot coals.
Which, at this stage, would have been preferable.
I jabbed my finger against the screen to end the call, only for my phone to fall to the ground with a loud clatter.
I leaned down to retrieve it, trying to remember if I had any wet wipes in my bag.
‘They’re right, you know.’
My cheeks stretched into a smile. I couldn’t help it. It was a natural reaction. Like ice melting in the afternoon sun.
‘You should be having fun,’ Joe reprimanded, looking down at me from where he was leaning against the bathroom door, one Chelsea boot resting casually against the wall.
‘I am having fun.’
‘Oh sure, life and soul of the party in here.’
I rolled my eyes at him, sticking my bottom lip out like a child.
‘Do you remember that night we ended up in that secret bar in the Lanes?’
I smiled. Of course, I remembered. We’d only popped into the tiny, unassuming Italian delicatessen to grab some picky bits for dinner.
But when I asked the silver-haired, olive-skinned man behind the counter if he had any Coppa di Parma, he’d smiled knowingly and beckoned us towards the back with a wave of his hand.
The next thing we knew, he’d opened what, from the outside, appeared to be your standard, if a little outdated, fridge door – but instead of cured meats and cheeses, we were met with a long corridor, flashing lights and the rich, mellow sound of a live saxophone blasting from the other end.
‘How could I forget?’
‘Well, considering the number of Negronis we drank that night, you’d be forgiven if you had.’
‘That was a good night,’ I mused, the memory playing out in real time in my head.
The dimly lit room with its miniature, tassel-hemmed lampshades lining the walls.
The spindly wooden tables and chairs, the kind you see outside cafes on the cobbled streets of Paris, all empty as people jostled for space on the dance floor.
The way Joe had spun me around until I was dizzy, his breath hot and sweet against the nape of my neck.
How I’d somehow ended up atop the bar, arm in arm with two women I’d never met before, cancanning to the live band’s rendition of ‘Tu vuò fa’ l’americano’.
‘I’ll tell you one thing, that girl would not be hiding in the bathroom on a Saturday night.’
I looked down at my feet. ‘Well, maybe I’m not that girl anymore.’
‘Of course you are,’ Joe clapped back, his voice so sure. That made one of us.
‘I don’t know who I am without you, Joe,’ I admitted quietly, almost embarrassed to say the words.
But they were the truth. Our lives had been tightly interwoven for so long that neither made sense without the other.
But now there was a loose thread, the kind to slowly unravel everything that you’d built, like a piece of yarn dangling from the hem of a jumper.
And here I was, unravelling. Joe crouched down, his knee doing that clicky thing it did whenever he took stairs two at a time.
I sat on my hands, trying to resist the urge to reach out and trace his jawline with my fingers.
Feel the familiar dip of his dimple beneath my thumb.
I didn’t want him to go just yet. He waited until I lifted my head, his eyes pulling mine to his.
‘You are Jenny Thompson,’ he said, firmly. ‘And you’re going to get out there, drink a Sex on the Beach through a penis straw, and bloody well let your hair down.’
I smiled despite myself. ‘My hair’s already down.’
‘Umm, s’cuse me?’ slurred a voice to my right. Crap, I’d forgotten Black Stilettoes was still here.
‘Sorry, just on the phone.’ I winced at my own lie, banking on the fact she was too drunk to realise.
‘No problem, babes, it’s just you’ve got something of mine?
’ A set of bright pink talons appeared under the partition, the kind that were so aggressively long I wondered how she even went to the toilet without causing herself serious injury.
Joe snorted with laughter as the hand hovered expectantly between his ankles, the tips of her fingers fluttering impatiently.
Our eyes found each other, and it was game over.
A giggle bubbled from between my lips in one loud, hysterical burst, and I had to clamp my hand over my mouth to stop it.
Using a clean piece of toilet roll, I picked the condom packet off the floor and dropped it into Black Stilettoes’ outstretched fingers.
Okay, a couple of hours and then I can make a discreet exit without anyone noticing , I told myself, finally emerging from the safety of the bathroom and pulling on the cardigan I’d managed to stuff in my bag without Jacob noticing.
The bar was rammed, the air vibrating with the carefree, louder-than-normal voices of people letting loose on a Saturday night, no 6 a.m. alarm clocks or work presentations to worry about the next day.
I navigated my way through the crowd, having no trouble finding our table thanks to the creepy, eyeless masks of my brother that all nine women were now sporting.
I mentally adjusted the countdown in my head to ninety minutes.
Kristina was the only one not wearing a mask, even though I could see several spares in the middle of the table.
No doubt she didn’t want the cheap elastic ruining her voluminous blow-dry.
‘There you are, Jenny, what took you so long? Did someone get lucky in the bathroom?’ Kristina cackled.
The multitude of empty shot glasses in front of her and the way one of her eyes took a while to catch up with the other – or maybe that was just the Botox?
– told me she was already three sheets to the wind.
I smiled tightly at her as I perched at the end of the booth, carefully crossing my ankles in that way I’d seen the Princess of Wales do on TV.
Alyssa, who looked stunning in a white feather-cuffed jumpsuit that shimmered from every angle, was sat to my left.
‘I’m so glad you came tonight, Jenny.’ She beamed, turning her back to the rest of the group. ‘I hope you don’t think I was being insensitive at all by inviting you? I just thought, well—’
Her kohl-lined eyes desperately scanned my face in that way people do when they hope you’ll finish their sentence for them. Navigate them towards safe ground.